CROSS READINGS.

VISITORS to the metropolis are respectfully invited-to be sold by auction by Messrs. Adams, at 42s. to 48s. per dozen.

Ever anxious to prevent imposition, Day and Martin respectfully inform the public that-the first number of the Monthly Critical Gazette will be a general assortment of warrants, subpoenas, summonses, &c.

Important information-His Grace the Duke of Wellington-arrived at C. Holmes's waggonwarehouse, Jesus College Lane-where he was enthroned, and put in possession of-five or six bakers-and the up-shot is not a little surp rising

University intelligence.-Congregations will be holden for the purpose of-the removal of-100 pipes of wine.

Letters from St. Petersburgh of the 20th March state, that-Dr. Bethel, the newly-appointed Bishop of Gloucester, arrived in-the Independent Tallyho Post Coach.

Birth-The Lady of, Esq., of-a fine-toned piano-forte-empty casks, and a variety of other effects-For particulars inquire of the auctioneer.

Your eyes are so bad, you'd do well to repair,
And seek the assistance of oculist. Ware.

LORD ****

Not I, by my faith, for so bad as they are,
Is mainly-nay, solely-occasioned by wear.

Chronicle.

THE PRAISE OF EATING.

YE sons of the platter give ear

Venter habet aures, they say, The praise of good eating to hear,

You'll never be out of the way;

But with knives sharp as razors, and stomachs as keen,
Stand ready to cut through the fat and the lean-

Through the fat and the lean,

Sit ready to cut through the fat and the lean.

The Science of eating is old,

Its antiquity no man can doubt,

Though Adam was squeamish, we're told

Eve soon found a dainty bit out;

Then with knives sharp as razors, and stomachs as keen, Our passage let's cut through the fat and the lean

&c. &c.

Through the world, from the West to the East,
Whether City, or Country, or Court,
There's no honest man, whether Laic or Priest,
But with pleasure partakes in the sport,
And with knife sharp as razor, and stomach as keen,
His passage doth cut through the fat and the lean-

They may talk of their roast and their boiled,

They may talk of their stew and their fry,

I am gentle simplicity's child,

And I dote on a West-Riding pie,

&c. &c.

While with knife sharp as razor, and stomach as keen,
I splash through the crust to the fat and the lean-

&c. &c.

Blackwood's Magazine.

TRAVELLING.

GOING abroad is now so common and so vulgar, that it is almost more genteel to stay at home; and a person who has travelled the five hundredmiles out of England, which constitute capability for the Travellers' Club, is much less of a curiosity than one who has travelled the same distance in it. The cataracts of the Nile are better known than the Falls of the Clyde; those rave about St. Peter's who never saw St. Paul's; and like the Scotchman who hurried home from Italy to see a magnificent view on his own estate, of which he had first received intelligence from a foreigner-so Englishmen will be put to the blush at Versailles and St. Denis, by puzzling questions about Windsor and Westminster Abbey.A book in praise of our country is perhaps the only sort of book that would not pay the expences of publication; it would have the dulness of a sonnet to one's wife, and the insipidity of English wines; it would be as little purchased as British lace, and as little regarded as an appeal in behalf of British manufacturers. Not till war again closes the Continent, and tourists and travellers are thrown out of foreign employ, will they condescend to visit or describe our own lovely scenery. Then Devonshire and Derbyshire, Wales and Westmoreland, must per force excite ecstacies and employ pens; then exaggeration will succeed indifference, Mont Blanc bow to Ben Nevis, and Milan Cathedral shrink before York Minster. Rather than not add his mite to the mountain of books that is overwhelming our

land, a predestined author would accomplish his fate by publishing "First Impressions on Boxhill," or "Reminiscences of Clapham Common.” New Monthly.

MISCHANCES IN MARRIAGE.

Ir happened four couple one day were presented

At the same parish church to be wed;

"They had plighted their vows," and their friends had consented; So the first to the altar was led.

The service proceeded till come to the clause

"For better, worse, richer, or poorer;"

For "worse" and for "poorer" he would not-because

From these he could never insure her;

But to "richer" and "better" he vow'd to comply.

The parson demurr'd to proceeding:

The bridegroom persisted the words to deny,
And retired with a bow of good breeding.
The second approach'd, and the service was read,
Till the bridegroom proceeded to ring her,
When alas! it appeared they could never be wed,
For the poor bride had lost her ring finger.
To the third, a young couple, no obstacle rose,
That they should not then be united;
And the service proceeded almost to its close,
And their vows were about to be plighted,-.
But, just as those vows had been nearly pronounced
By the bride, in a voice firm and steady,
A stranger arriv'd in great haste, and announced
That the bride had a husband already.

"Mischance on mischance," cried the priest in a pet;

But the fourth couple still was remaining,

And hoping, of them all his fees he should get,

He determined to stifle complaining.

But scarce had he read to the first warning clause,
When the father desired, as a favour,

He would hasten the reading the service-because
The bride was just taken in labour.

Literary Chronicle.

AN EPITAPH,

OR, PUNNING RUN MAD.

HERE lies old John Magee, late the landlord at the Sun,
He never had an ail, unless when all his ale was done :
The Sun was on the sign, tho' what sign his sun was on,
No studier of the Zodiac could ever hit upon.
Some said it was Aquarius, so queerious he'd get;
But he declared no soda-hack should ever share his whet;
His burnish'd sun was sol-o, soul-heart'ning was his cheer,
And quaffing of good porter long kept him from his bier,
As draughtsman he'd no equal, his drawings were so good,
And many a noble draught has he taken from the wood,―
Rare spirited productions, with tasty views near Cork;
And then he had a score or two rum characters in chalk.
Above the mantle-taillee his tally it was nail'd,
And tho' he had lost one eye-sight, his hop-ticks never fail'd.
Good ale and cider sold here, oft made the soldier halt,
And sailor Jack, his sail aback, would hoist aboard his malt ;
Most cordially he'd pour out a cordial for the fair,
Whose peeper meant to ogle the pepper-mint so rare.
While buxom Jean would toss off the juniper so gay,

And swear it was both sweet and nice as any shrub in May.

At last John took to drinking, and drank till drunk with drink, His stuffing he would stuff in till stuff began to shrink;

Tho' mistress shook her hand high, he suck'd the sugar-candy, And often clos'd his brand eye by tippling of the brandy:

His servants always firking, his firkins ran so fast,

And staggering round his bar-rails, his barrels breath'd their last;
And when he treated all hands his Hollands ran away,
Nor reap'd he fruit from any seed for aniseed to pay.
And tho' he drank the bitters, his hitters still increas'd,
He pufft the more parfait aucour till all his efforts ceas'd.
The storm, alas! was brewing, the brewer drew his till,
And Mrs. Figg, for 'bacca, to back her brought her bill.
Distillers still'd his spirits, but couldn't still his mind;
He told the bailiff he would try a bail if he could find;
But fumbling round the tap-room, Death tapp'd him on the head,
So here he lies quite flat and stale, because, d'ye see, he's dead.
Literary Gazette.