the remainder turn into the first house of public entertainment they arrive at on emerging from the smoke of London to the rural districts, and remain all day absorbed in the mysteries of ground billiards and knock-’em-downs, their principal vegetable studies being confined to lettuces, spring onions, and water-cresses.  But all this is very proper—­we mean the botanical part of the story—­for the knowledge of the natural class and order of a buttercup must be of the greatest service to a practitioner in after-life in treating a case of typhus fever or ruptured blood-vessel.  At some of the Continental Hospitals, the pupil’s time is wasted at the bedside of the patient, from which he can only get practical information.  How much better is the primrose-investigating curriculum of study observed at our own medical schools!

* * * * *

SOME THINGS TO WHICH THE IRISH WOULD NOT SWEAR.

MR. GROVE.—­This insufferably ignorant, and, therefore, insolent magisterial cur, who has recently made himself an object of unenviable notoriety, by asserting that “the Irish would swear anything,” has shown himself to be as stupid as he is malignant.  Would, for instance, the most hard-mouthed Irishman in existence venture to swear that—­

  Mr. Grove is a gentleman; or that—­
  Sir Francis Burdett has brought honour to his grey hairs; or that—­
  Colonel Sibthorp has more brains than beard; or that—­
  Sir Robert Peel feels for anybody but himself; or that—­
  Peter Borthwick was listened to with attention; or that—­
  Sir Peter Laurie’s wisdom cannot be estimated; or that—­
  Sir Edward George Erle Lytton Bulwer thinks very small beer of
      himself; or that—­
  The Earl of Coventry carries a vast deal of sense under his hat; or
      that—­
  Mr. Roebuck is the pet of the Times; or, in short, that—­
  The Tories are the best and most popular governors that England
      ever had.

If “the Irish would swear” to the above, we confess they “would swear anything.”

* * * * *

COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE THEM.

SIR JAMES CLARK is in daily attendance at the Palace.  We suppose that he is looking out for a new berth under Government.

* * * * *

HOSTILITIES IN PRIVATE LIFE.

We have just heard of an event which has shaken the peace of a highly respectable house in St. Martin’s Court, from the chimney-pots to the coal-cellar.  Mrs. Brown, the occupier of the first floor, happened, on last Sunday, to borrow of Mrs. Smith, who lived a pair higher in the world, a German silver teapot, on the occasion of her giving a small twankey party to a few select friends.  But though she availed