THE PRIEST AND THE OSTLER.

ONCE, at some holy time, perhaps 'twas Lent,
An honest Ostler to confession went,

And there of sins, a long-extended score,
Of various size and shape, he number'd o'er;
"Till, having clear'd his conscience of the stuff
(For any moderate conscience quite enough),
He ceas'd. "What more?" the rev'rend Father

cried :

"No more," th' unburthen'd penitent replied. "But (said the awful priest) yet unreveal'd "There lurks one darling vice within your thoughts

conceal'd:

"Did you, in all your

various modes of cheating,

"Ne'er grease the horses teeth to spoil their eating?" "Never," said Crop. So then-to cleanse each

stain,

He was absolv'd, and sent to sin again.

Some few months hence, sad stings of conscience

feeling,

Crop at Confessional again was kneeling;

When, lo! at ev'ry step his conscience easing, Out popp'd a groan, and horses teeth and greasing. "Sancta Maria!" cried th' astonish'd priest, "How much your sins have with your days increas'd:

"When last I saw you, you denied all this!"

"True," said the Ostler, "

very true it is; "And also true, that, till that blessed time,

66

I never, Father, heard of such a crime."

DERIVATION OF THE WORD "OSTLER."

THE word Ostler, which now signifies solely an attendant on horses, is derived from the French word hosteller, a person who kept a house of entertainment; which houses were denominated Hostels, and by us at this day Hotels--though some persons maintain that the word Ostler is purely English, and only an abridgment of Oat-stealer, a name given to those gentry, from their great propensity to defraud those useful quadrupeds, horses, of their fair allowance.

KING WILLIAM (Prince of Orange), on his accession to the throne of England, inserted under his Arms,

NON RAPUI, SED RECEPI;

which being shown to Dean Swift, he sarcastically "The receiver's as bad as the thief."

said,

EPIGRAM,

BY DU RELLEY,

ON A DOG WHO KEPT STRICT WATCH AGAINST THIEVES.

BUT SUFFERED GALLANTS TO COME UNMOLESTED.

Latratus fures excipi; mutus amantibus ;
Sic placui domino; sic placui domina.

Which has been thus happily translated in Italian:
Latrai a i ladri a gli amanti tacqui,
Cosi a messere e a madona piacqui.

And may be thus rendered in English,

At thieves I bark'd; when lovers came, was mute;
Thus did my master and my mistress suit.

*TRUE FELICITY.

Mortal, in this earthly sphere,
Fraught with pride and misery,

Sage of nature, tell me where

I can find felicity?

Would'st thou taste of bliss sincere,

Which all other joys excels,

Pleasure unalloy'd by fear,

Take a trip to Bagnigge-Wells.

PHOEBUS AND DAPHNE.

WHEN Phœbus was am'rous, and long'd to be rude, Miss Daphne cried Pish!' and ran swift to the

wood;

And, sooner than do such a naughty affair,
Became a fine laurel to deck the god's hair!
The nymph was, no doubt, of a cold constitution;
For, sure, to turn tree was an odd resolution:
But in this she behav'd like a true modern spouse,
For she fled from his arms to distinguish his brows.

TAYLOR, commonly called the Water-Poet, kept a public-house on the Surrey side of Blackfriarsbridge; and not choosing to exhibit on his sign any of the anomalies of nature, Red Lions, Blue Boars, &c. he adorned the board with his own head, underneath which he had the following lines painted:

There's many a head stands for a sign,
Then, gentle reader, why not mine?

ON THE REVERSE.

Though I deserve not, I desire,

The laurel-wreath, the poet's hire.

ON WEDLOCK.

IN Marriage are two happy things allow'd,
A wife in wedding sheets, and in a shroud:
How can the marriage-state then be accurst,
Since the last day's as happy as the first.

ANECDOTE OF M. PIRON.

THIS gentleman was a debauched as well as a literary character; he wished to become a Member of the French Academy, but was rejected. Mortified at the denial, he wrote the following EPITAPH, to be engraved on his tomb:

C'y git Piron, qui ne fut rien,
Pas même Académicien.

EPIGRAM.

[MARTIAL.]

You ask me, my friend, what lass I'd enjoy?
I'd have one that is neither too coming nor coy:
A medium is best, that gives us no pain

By too much indulgence-nor too much disdain.