I contrived at length to roll it from my plate into my mouchoir, which I had placed on my knees purposely for its reception; the next minute all was safely lodged in my pocket.  Conversing with the object of my affections, during the evening, in a state of nervous forgetfulness, I drew forth my handkerchief, and in a superb flourish, out flew the GIZZARD!  Good heavens! my fair one stared, coloured, laughed; I was petrified; away flew my ecstatic dreams; and out of the house I flung myself without one ‘au revoir,’ but with a consciousness of the truth of that delectable ballad which proclaims, that ‘Love has EYES!!’ I thought no more of love in that quarter, believe me!” M.L.B.

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ADMIRAL RODNEY.

During the heat of the memorable battles with Count de Grasse, of April 9th and 12th, 1782, the gallant Rodney desired his young aid-de-camp (Mr. Charles Dashwood[9]) to make him a glass of lemonade, the ingredients for which were at hand.  Not having any thing to stir it with but a knife, already discoloured by the cutting of the lemon, Sir George coolly said, on Mr. Dashwood presenting it to him, “Child, that may do for a midshipman, but not for an admiral—­take it yourself, and send my servant to me.”  C.C.

    [9] Afterwards advanced to the rank of post captain, in 1801.

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EXPRESSIVE WORDS.

I knew very well a French Chevalier, who on coming to England, applied himself with amazing ardour to the study of our language, and his remarks upon it, if not always very acute were at least entertaining.  One day, reading aloud an English work, he stopped at the word SPLASH; expressed himself highly delighted with it, as a term, which minutely described the thing meant; then repeating it many times with marked pleasure, and a strong sibillation, he added, “No! no! dere is noting at all, noting in my language dat de same would be like splash!” Perhaps the following sentence from the satire of a notorious wit in Elizabeth’s reign, is a fair specimen of those expressive words which paint, the object of which they speak:—­“To which place, Gabriel came, ruffling it out, hufty-tufty, in his new suit of velvet.”  The man was vain; the writer has made him a peacock.  M.L.B.

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I would no more bring a new work out in summer than I would sell pork in the dog-days.—­Bookseller in Cit.  World.

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