Dr. &c.  Bedford rose to second the proposition.  Dr. &c.  Bedford said, “Dr. &c.  Bedford is a gentleman what I have had the honour of knowing on for many long ears.  His medikel requirement are sich as ris a Narvey and a Nunter to the summut of the temples of Fame.  His political requisitions are summarily extinguished.  It is, therefore, with no common pride that I second this abomination.”

Dr. &c.  Bedford then bowed to his reflection in the glass, and proceeded to take his seat in his easy chair, thumping the table with one hand, and placing the other gracefully upon his breast, as though in token of gratitude for the honour conferred upon him.

Order being restored, Dr. &c.  Bedford rose and said,—­

“I never kotched myself in sich a sitchuation in my life—­I mean not that I hasn’t taken a cheer afore, perhaps carried one—­but it never has been my proud extinction to preside over such a meeting—­so numerous in its numbers and suspectable in its appearance.  My friend, Dr. &c.  Bedford, (Hear, hear! from.  Dr. &c.  Bedford,) his the hornament of natur in this 19th cemetary.  His prodigious outlays”—­

Voice without.—­“Here they are, only a penny!”

Dr. &c.  Bedford.—­“Order, order!  His—­his—­you know what I mean that shoold distinguish the fisishun and the orator.  I may say the Solus of orators,—­renders him the most fittest and the most properest person to take care of the Royal health, and the Royal Infant Babby of these regions,” (Hear, hear! from Dr. &c.  Bedford.)

The Doctor then proceeded to embody the foregoing observations into a resolution, which was proposed by Dr. &c.  Bedford, and seconded by Dr. &c.  Bedford, who having held up both his hands, declared it to be carried nem. con.

Dr. &c.  Bedford then proposed a vote of thanks to Dr, &c.  Bedford for his conduct in the chair.  The meeting then dispersed, after Dr. &c.  Bedford had returned thanks, and bowed to his own reflection in the looking-glass.

* * * * *

A LEGEND OF THE TOWER (NOT LONDON).

In the immediate vicinity of the pretty little town of Kells stands one of those peculiar high round towers, the origin of which has so long puzzled the brains of antiquaries.  It is invariably pointed out to the curious, as a fit subject for their contemplation, and may, in fact, be looked upon as the great local lion of the place.  It appears almost inaccessible.  But there is a story extant, and told in very choice Irish, how two small dare-devil urchins did succeed in reaching its lofty summit; and this is the way the legend was done into English by one Barney Riley, the narrator, to whom I am indebted for its knowledge:—­

“You see Masther Robert, sir,—­though its murduring high, and almost entirely quite aqual in stapeness to the ould ancient Tower of Babel, yet, sir, there is them living now as have been at the top of that same; be the same token I knew both o’ the spalpeens myself.  It’s grown up they are now; but whin they wint daws’-nesting to the top there, the little blackguards weren’t above knee-high, if so much.”