l mode of procedure, of which please to accept the
following algebraical demonstration:--

Let _x_ be the unknown quantity; _a_, the horses; _b_, the sheep; then per
simple equations _x_, plus _a_, plus _b_, minus tods, plus sheepskins,
equal one thousand--then minus sheep, plus horses, minus wool, plus tods,
equal one million. Lastly, horses plus sheep, minus hides, plus fleeces,
in all equal forty millions.

Quod erat demonstrandum.

There, reader, if you are still a sceptic, I cannot help it.

JACOBUS.

* * * * *

ANSWER OF THE LONDON STONE.[2]

(_For the Mirror_.)

Why hast thou mortal, on my slumber broken,
And dragged my struggling spirit back to earth?
Though "walls have ears," yet stones have never spoken.
Why am I made the object of thy mirth?
Why am I questioned thus to tell my fate,
And primal use? Yet hear--whilst I relate.

When time was young, and earth was in her prime,
Secure I slept within her spacious womb;
And ages passed--I took no heed of time,
Until some Druid burst my dismal tomb,
And dragged me forth amidst the haunts of man.
And then, indeed my life of woe began.

And ere great Caesar in triumphant pride,
Led on by conquest, bade Rome's eagles soar
To this fair isle; full many a victim died
Upon my breast, and I was drenched with gore:
For "midst the tangling horrors of the wood,"
I stood an altar, stained with human blood.

I've witnessed scenes, which I now dread to name,
I've seen the captive bound in wicker rods
Expire, midst shouts, to feed the sacred flame,
And glut the fury of offended gods;
Those days soon passed--the gospel's milder ray
Dispelled the gloom, and spread a brighter day.

Then superstition tottered on her throne,
And hid her head in shades of gloomy night;
Quenched were her fires--her impious fanes o'er thrown,
Her mists dispersed before the Prince of Light,
Then sank my grandeur; in some lonely spot
I slept for years unnoticed and forgot.

Until Vespasian, by Rome's stern command,
To quench rebellion in my native isle,
Brought his bold legions from a foreign strand,
Our land to torture, and our towers to spoil;
He hewed me in a fashion now unknown,
And dubbed me, what I am, "The London Stone."

From me, the miles by Britons once were counte