solicitude was now required solely for Joe,
whose head was too deeply buried to be exhumed with so much facility. At
this moment, Bob Casey, of Ballynakill, a very celebrated wig-maker,
just dropped in, to see what he could pick up honestly in the way of his
profession, or steal in the way of anything else; and he immediately
undertook to get Mr. Kelly out of the mortar by a very expert but
tedious process, namely clipping with his scissors, and then rooting out
with an oyster-knife. He thus finally succeeded, in less than an hour,
in setting Joe once more at liberty, at the price of his queue, which
was totally lost, and of the exposure of his raw and bleeding occiput.
The operation was, indeed, of a mongrel description--somewhat between a
complete tonsure and an imperfect scalping, to both of which
denominations it certainly presented claims. However, it is an ill wind
that blows nobody good! Bob Casey got the making of a skull-piece for
Joe, and my brother French had the pleasure of paying for it, as
gentlemen in those days honored any order given by a guest to the family
shopkeeper or artisan.

A PARTNERSHIP.

AFTER divine service at Worcester cathedral, where a remarkably fine
anthem had been performed, the organ-blower observed to the organist, "I
think we have performed mighty well to-day." "_We_ performed!" answered
the organist, "if I am not mistaken it was _I_ that performed." Next
Sunday, in the midst of a voluntary, the organ stopped all at once. The
organist, enraged, cried out, "Why don't you blow?" The fellow, popping
out his head, said, "Shall it be _we_ then?"

A WIT FOR LADIES.

A LADY of vivacity was by a waggish friend proposed to be made
acquainted with a gentleman of infinite wit, an offer she gladly
accepted. After the interview, her friend asked how she liked him. She
said, "Delightfully! I have hardly ever found a person so agreeable."
The damsel, uninterrupted in her own loquacity, had not discovered that
this witty gentleman was----_dumb_!

A BRAGGADOCIO REPROVED.

AN officer relating his feats to the Marshal de Bessompiere, said, that
in a sea-fight he had killed 300 men with his own hand: "And I," said
the Marshal, "descended through a chimney in Switzerland to visit a
pretty girl." "How could that be," said the captain, "since there are no
chimneys in that country?" "What, Sir!" said the Marshal, "I have
allowed you to kill 300 men in a fight, and surely you