his honor and name would be exposed
were he not to comply, paid the debt and charges.

DCXLI.--PUNCTUATION.

SOME gentlemen talking on the inattention of writers to punctuation, it
was observed that the lawyers used no stops in their writings. "I should
not mind that," said one of the party, "but they put no _periods_ to
their works."

DCXLII.--CON-CIDER-ATE.

LORD BOTTETOT, in passing through Gloucester, soon after the cider tax,
in which he was very unpopular, observing himself burning in effigy, he
stopped his coach, and giving a purse of guineas to the mob, said,
"Pray, gentlemen, if you will burn me, burn me like a gentleman; do not
let me linger; I see you have _not faggots enough_." This good-humored
speech appeased the people, who gave him three cheers, and let him pass.

DCXLIII.--FEAR OF EDUCATING WOMEN.

THERE is a very general notion, that if you once suffer women to eat of
the tree of knowledge, the rest of the family will very soon be reduced
to the same kind of aerial and unsatisfactory diet.

DCXLIV.--A-LIQUID.

PORSON, once conversing with a party of congenial friends, seemed at a
loss for _something_ to cheer the inward man, and drawing his glass
mechanically towards him, he took up one bottle, and then another,
without finding wherewithal to replenish. A friend observing this, he
inquired what the professor was in search of. "Only _a-liquid_!"
answered Porson.

DCXLV.--TOP AND BOTTOM.

THE following playful colloquy in verse took place at a dinner-table
between Sir George Rose and James Smith, in allusion to Craven Street,
Strand, where he resided:--

_J.S._--"At the top of the street ten attorneys find place,
And ten dark coal barges are moored:
Fly, honesty, fly, to some safer retreat,
For there's _craft_ in the river, and _craft_ in the
street."

_Sir G.R._--"Why should Honesty fly to some safer retreat,
From attorneys and barges, od rot 'em?
For the attorneys are _just_ at the top of the street,
And the barges are _just_ at the bottom."

DCXLVI.--A SUGGESTIVE PRESENT.

JERROLD and a company of literary friends were out in the country. In
the course of their walk, they stopped to notice the gambols of an ass's
foal. A very sentimental poet present vowed that he should like