JOHN WESLEY. (1703-1791). I have a very long and curious autograph letter addressed by John Wesley to his wife, 'Dear Molly,' and dated Coleford, Oct 23, 1759. It is a curious and most pitiable complaint of her conduct. He remonstrates with her for appropriating his money, and stealing his papers, for lying, and for treating his servants like dogs. In conclusion he says, 'These are the advices which I now give you, in the fear of God, and in tender love to your soul. Nor can I give you a stronger proof that I am your affectionate husband.' I do not know whether Mrs. Wesley laid this letter to heart, but she had evidently read it very carefully, for she has made autograph notes upon it in three or four places; for instance, where her husband says her conduct may drive him further off, she has written the word 'imposable. A GOOD REASON. A large landed proprietor had been murdered in Ireland, and a car-driver was telling his fare how universally he had been execrated on his estate, when the gentleman naturally enough remarked, 'Then the wonder is that he was not put to death long ago.' 'Och, your Honour,' said Paddy, 'that's how it is, you know-what's everybody's business is nobody's busi ness.' THE CLIMATE OF IRELAND. Irishman.-'Ireland's the finist climate in the world.' Stranger.-'Yes, I believe you have very little frost or snow.' Irishman.-'Oh, plinty, sir, plinty of frost and snow, but frost and snow is not cold in Ireland.' (Probably he meant to say not disagreeable.) REAL HUMILITY. The Vicar met a poor parish girl, who had been in service, and had got married the week before. 'Well, Sally,' said he, 'and how do you like matrimony?' She replied, and with exquisite humility, 'I like it very much, sir' (curtsey). 'It's beautiful, sir' (curtsey). 'It's too good for a poor girl like me.' AN INTRACTABLE BRIDEGROOM AND ONE MORE TRACTABLE. A couple presenting themselves to be married, the clergyman objected that the bridegroom was tipsy, and therefore, very properly, refused to perform the ceremony. A few days afterwards the same thing occurred with the same couple; whereupon the clergyman gravely expostulated with the bride, and said that they must not present themselves again with the bridegroom in that condition. But, sir,'-she naïvely exclaimed—' he won't come when he's sober.' This could hardly be the bridegroom who when the clergyman said ‘Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife,' unhesitatingly replied-'In course I will, sir, why I come here a-purpose.' THE LADY AND THE CABMAN. Lady C a very agreeable and amiable woman, took a cab to the house of a friend; on alighting she observed that cabby was tipsy. After she had taken the precaution of ringing the bell, she gave him his fare, and said, with severity and reproachfully, 'I have hired many cabs, and this is the first time I have been driven by a tipsy cabman.' This was cabby's emphatic and incisive rejoinder-' I was never soberer in my life; it's you that have been a-drinkin'—you knows you have. You ought to be ashamed o' yourself.' was not sorry that at that moment the Lady C front door opened. A LOVER'S MESSAGE. 'Ye little nymphs that hourly wait And haughty Strephon scorns to die.' Earl of Kellie. SPORT. 'He had catched a great cold had he had none other clothes to wear than the skin of a bear not yet killed.' The other day I tumbled on this passage in Fuller, and here, among the lonely hills, it has set me athinking on all the curious vicissitudes of sport, whether it be the pursuit of fishes, or of birds, or of four-footed creatures-including bears. I am Let us suppose, now, that I go a-fishing. encouraged to do so by those who are reputed to be weather-wise, but who prove to be quite otherwise. My pony takes me in less than half-an-hour to the loch. The wind is in the south. There is enough of it. whip the water, I go on whipping it; but, some how, I cannot get a rise out of it. The sky is fairly covered. The water is of the right colour, in fact everything seems as favourable for the sport as possible, but, at last the old Gael (not the old Gael who plies the sculls, but the other, the more ancient Gael, who superintends the sport) suggests, 'Maybe there's joost a wee bit thunner in the air." I think he says this, but his vocabulary is so scant, and his accent so individual that I can't be certain. Yesterday he had assured me that the sun was too bright. The day before that there was much too little 'wund,' and the day before that, that I had not the proper description of fly-I happened to have a 'hare's lug, when, of course, I ought to have had a 'coachman.' He now tells me that if I had only brought a 'phantom' minnow with me, I might have done something, but that, as it is, he fears it is a bad look-out: and then he relates a tantalising anecdote of a certain General Foster who had fished the loch some years before, on just such another day as this, and in just this part of the loch, too, and how he had caught twelve-score trout before luncheon, and not one of them less than a pound and a half. All this time I have been whipping away without any result whatever, and I begin to despair, and this being the case I make up my mind that my twelve-score fish shall be secured after luncheon, so I fall to. I hate sandwiches without mustard -but, hillo !-here's a little pat of that excellent butter |