n of that same! Oh, mother, mother!--the devil fly away wid yere
ould almanack--a base cratur of a book, to be deceaven one, afther
living so long in the family of us!'

"His first impulse was to cut a caper on the roof of the coach, and
throw up his cap with a loud hurrah! His second was to throw himself
into the arms of his Kathleen; and the third was to wring my hand off in
acknowledgment.

"'It's a happy man I am, your honour, for my word's saved, and all by
your honour's manes. Long life to your honour for the same! May ye live
a long hundred--and lape-years every one of them.'"

What will Mr. Gurney's helpers say to the following

SONNET ON STEAM.

BY AN UNDER-OSTLER.

I wish I livd a Thowsen year Ago
Wurking for Sober six and Seven milers
And dubble Stages runnen safe and slo!
The Orsis cum in Them days to the Bilers
But Now by meens of Powers of Steem forces
A-turning Coches into Smoakey Kettels
The Bilers seam a Cumming to the Orses
And Helps and naggs Will sune be out of Vittels
Poor Bruits I wander How we bee to Liv
When sutch a change of Orses is our Faits
No nothink need Be sifted in a Siv
May them Blowd ingins all Blow up their Grates
And Theaves of Oslers crib the Coles and Giv
Their blackgard Hannimuls a Feed of Slaits!

Space we have not for the whole of "A Letter from a Market Gardener to
the Secretary of the Horticultural Society," but here is the concluding
paragraph:--

"My Wif had a Tomb Cat that dyd. Being a torture Shell and a Grate
faverit, we had Him berrid in the Guardian, and for the sake of
inrichment of the Mould, I had the carks deposeted under the roots of
a Gosberry Bush. The Frute being up till then of a smooth kind. But
the nex Seson's Frute after the Cat was berrid, the Gosberris was al
hairy--and more Remarkable, the Capilers of the same bush was All of
the same hairy description.

"I am, Sir, your humble servant,

"THOMAS FROST."

We have lately paid much attention to the subject of Emigration, but
quite in a different vein to the following, which will introduce one of
the cuts:--

"Squampash Flatts, 9th Nov. 1827.

"Dear Brother--Here we are, thank Providence, safe and well, and in the
finest country you ever saw. At this moment I have before me the sublime
expanse of Squampash Flatts--the majestic Mudiboo winding through the
midst--with the magnificent range of the Squab mountains in the
distance. But the prospect is imp