A PRUDENT REASON.

Our gallant Sibthorp was lately invited by a friend to accompany him in a pleasure trip in his yacht to Cowes.  “No!” exclaimed Sib.; “you don’t catch me venturing near Cowes.”  “And why not?” inquired his friend.  “Because I was never vaccinated,” replied the hirsute hero.

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DOCTOR PEEL TAKING TIME TO CONSULT.

Once upon a time—­says an old Italian novelist—­a horse fell, as in a fit, with his rider.  The people, running from all sides, gathered about the steed, and many and opposite were the opinions of the sudden malady of the animal; as many the prescriptions tendered for his recovery.  At length, a great hubbub arose among the mob; and a fellow, with the brass of a merryandrew, and the gravity of a quack-doctor, pressed through the throng, and approached the beast.  Suddenly there was silence.  It was plain to the vulgar that the solemn new-comer had brought with him some exquisite specific:  it was evident, from the grave self-complacency of the stranger, that with a glance, he had detected the cause of sickness in the horse,—­and that, in a few seconds, the prostrate animal, revivified by the cunning of the sage, would be up, and once more curvetting and caracoling.  The master of the steed eyed the stranger with an affectionate anxiety; the mob were awed into breathless expectation.  The wise man shook his head, put his cane to his nose, and proceeded to open his mouth.  It was plain he was about to speak.  Every ear throbbed and gaped to catch the golden syllables.  At length the doctor did speak:  for casting about him a look of the profoundest knowledge, and pointing to the steed, he said, in a deep, solemn whisper,—­“Let the horse alone!” Saying this, the doctor vanished!

The reader will immediately make the application.  The horse John Bull is prostrate.  It will be remembered that Colonel SIBTHORP (that dull mountebank) spoke learnedly upon glanders—­that others declared the animal needed a lighter burthen and a greater allowance of corn,—­but that the majority of the mob made way for a certain quacksalver PEEL, who being regularly called in and fee’d for his advice, professed himself to be possessed of some miraculous elixir for the suffering quadruped.  All eyes were upon the doctor—­all ears open for him, when lo! on the 16th of September,—­PEEL, speaking with the voice of an oracle, said—­“It is not my intention in the present session of Parliament to submit any measures for the consideration of the House!” In other words—­“Let the horse alone!”

The praises of the Tory mob are loud and long at this wisdom of the doctor.  He had loudly professed an intimate knowledge of the ailments of the horse—­he had long predicted the fall of the poor beast,—­and now, when the animal is down, and a remedy is looked for that shall once more set the creature on his legs, the veterinary politician says—­“Let the horse alone!”