BON MOT OF MR. PLUNKETT.-In 1818, when Mr. Plunkett and Mr. Croker, of the Admiralty, were candidates at the general election (the latter being the government candidate) for the representation of the College, Dublin, a gentleman asked Mr. P. whether Mr. Reagh, one of the fellows of the College, would vote for him: "He will," replied Mr. P.; "If he did not, he would be a Castle Reagh."

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THE late Dr. Hudson, of Dublin, having acquired a large fortune as a Dentist, built a very beautiful and expensive house of hewn stone adjoining Mr. Curran's demesne, near Rathfarnham, the front of which was ornamented with a handsome portico in the Doric order. From the close friendship that subsisted so long between these gentlemen, it may be supposed they spent together almost every moment they could spare from professional pursuits, many of which were, of course, engaged in inspecting the workmen employed at this building. On one of these occasions, while watching the progress of the portico, Mr. Curran turned to his friend, and said, "Well, Med! though I have always admired the chaste simplicity of the Doric order, I wonder you could have preferred any to the TUSK-an, which has such strong claims on your gratitude."

It was on this same occasion, that Dr. H. having congratulated Mr. Curran on the felicity of his pun, the latter exclaimed, “Oh! if I were PUNISHED for every PUN-I-SHED.". To which Dr. Hudson replied, "If you were, Jack, you'd not be left a PUNY-SHED to hold your PUNNISH-HEAD."

The Route."

"SEND for a chair—it blows so hard-I can't bear windy weather;
Now, you and I in one sedan can go quite well together,"

Said Mrs. Frump, while folding tight her shawl around each shoulder,
She took the lean and wither'd arm of sweet Miss Nancy Holder.

This Mistress Frump and Nancy dear were old maids stiff and stupid,
Who long had been shot proof against the darts of cunning Cupid;
So now, good souls, they both were off to Lady Betty Randle,
To have a little shilling whist, and talk a deal of scandal.

The chair it came, and in they went, together sideways sitting,
As closely pack'd as all the threads they just before were knitting.
In minutes three they safe arrived, the double knock foretelling
The fast approach of these two dames to Lady Randle's dwelling.
Forthwith the bawling footman shewed up stairs Miss Nancy Holder,
And Mrs. Frump; while stared Miss Young, and Mrs. Young the older.
"Dear Lady Randle, how d'ye do? I am very glad to see you,"
Quoth Mrs. Frump. Miss Sugarfist cried, "Dear Miss Nan, how be you?"
"Miss Charlotte, I am quite rejoiced to have the boundless pleasure
Of shaking hands, my love, you're looking charming beyond measure;
That roseate bloom upon your cheek outvies the soft carnation."
"O lawk! Miss Ann, you fluster me with such great admiration."

Now, Mr. Sugarfist had been in tea and figs a dealer,
Which was the cause Miss Sugarfist, his child, was not genteeler;
He, having made a fortune large, and trade no more admiring,
Sold all his stock, and cut the shop and business, by retiring.

Yet still he dealt- that is, the cards, for he to whisk was partial;

His partner now, a soldier bold, was gallant Major Martial,

Who oft had seen much service hard, round Brentford, Kew, and Ryegate,

And e'en that very day had march'd from Paddington to Highgate.

By Mr. Sugarfist there sat, of turtle feasts a giver,

A Nabob, who came home with gold, but not an inch of liver;

His partner was no less a man than portly Parson Sable;

Which, if you reckon right, you'll find just makes up one whist table.

But next to these, a noisy set of talking Dames were playing
At guinea Loo, and now and then a temper vile betraying.
Miss Winter, Mrs. Crookedlegs, Miss Glum, and Mrs. Hearty,
With hump-back'd Lady Spindleshanks, exactly made the party.

Upon the sofa, Mrs. Frump, dear soul! had squatted down to
Some shilling whist, with Mrs. Prim, and lo! a foreign Count, too!
Who, as Dame Fortune will'd it, soon became her partner chosen ;
While Mr. Prim, congenial man! sat opposite Miss Frozen.

Around the room, in various parts, some motley groups were seated:
In one place, Captain Splinter bold, with grape (not shot) juice heated,
Made desp'rate work with Sophy Blaze, who swore he meant to kill her;
For, in the warmth of love, he grasp'd her hand just like a tiller.

Then, in the room adjacent, young Miss Randle and Miss Parking,
To treat the company, began through two duets sky-larking.
When Mr. Simple ask'd Miss Quiz, “In what key are they playing?"
""Tis what you are, — A flat,” she said, a sneering smile betraying.

Now up and down the ivory keys the Misses twain kept flying.
As if to make as great a din as could be they were trying.
This o'er, the kind Miss Symphony, with lungs indeed appalling,
Sat down before the harpsichord, and had a bout at squalling.

While all these things were going on, Miss Holder, in a corner,
Had fix'd upon a school girl, Miss Honoria Julia Horner,
Who'd just begun to be come out; so Nancy, by explaining
The histories of the folks around, Miss H. was entertaining.

"Look there! d'ye see? that's General Bomb, just come from Gibraltar; 'Tis rumour'd he will lead next week Miss Simper to the altar:

He's sixty-five, and she sixteen, -
-a pretty match this, truly!
No doubt, in time his brow will be with antlers cover'd duly.

"There goes Miss Flirt, who fancies she is able to discover
In every man she dances with a true and ardent lover.
And here comes Mrs. Paroquet, a widow young and wealthy,
Who's waiting just to catch some peer, old, gouty, and unhealthy.

"That kind of man with whiskers large, and hair that's rather sandy,
A stiff cravat, gold chain and glass, is what they call a Dandy.
Those ladies standing by the door, and making such wry faces,
Because they've lost twelve points at cards, are call'd the faded Graces.

"The youngest's only fifty-eight, the second sixty-seven;
The oldest, who is seventy-six, ought now to be in—heaven.
Folks say they once were pretty girls, but would be always flirting;
A thing, my dear, the hopes of being nicely married hurting.

"Now, goodness me! as I'm alive! there's little Fanny Sawyer
Engaged in earnest chat with Mr. Honesty, the lawyer.

If that turns out to be a match, I'm sure 'twill be a wonder.
But only look at Mrs. Bounce with one-arm'd Colonel Thunder.

"Well, how some people can!—but see, the card parties are breaking, And yonder there's dear Mrs. Frump of tipsey-cake partaking."

So here Miss Holder's eloquence at once was put an end to,

At sight of delicacies, which she ever was a friend to.

Now Champagne bottles, knives and forks, plates, glasses, scandal, chatter,
With laughter interspersed, began to make a glorious clatter.
"Dear Colonel, pray be good enough to help me to a custard”—
"A little lobster, if you please"-"I'll thank you for the mustard.
"Miss Holder, won't you take a seat?"—" What shall I have the pleasure,
Miss Sugarfist, of giving you?"—" Why, when you be at leisure,

I'll take some raisins, if you please.”—“ That savours of the Grocer,"
Miss Clackitt whispered Mr. Prim, "her dad was one, you know, sir."
Now Mr. Prim, alas! poor man! was very absent, making
Sometimes great blunders, which would after set his heart an aching:
Thus sage Miss Clackitt's shrewd remark to him was quite a poser,
Yet, just for answering's sake, he roar'd out, "Yes, her dad's a grocer!"

On which Miss Charlotte's cheeks, poor thing, became as red as scarlet,
And pouting like a sulky child, she sobb'd out, "O the varlet!"
But he, the cause of her dismay, stood looking blank and foolish ;
While Dandy Bubble said, "Why, Prim, upon my soul! 'twas coolish."

Now other noises swell'd the roar: Good gracious! what's the matter?
“O never mind, 'tis Sophy Blaze, again the Captain's at her:-
I wonder if these rattling romps will end in ought like marriage !"-
"Lord Random's Stanhope stops the way"-" Count Marasquino's carriage."
Then rose among the female tribe a strife of silk and satins,

Miss Holder's chair's announced, and Mrs. Bubble's maid and pattens.
In groups the company paired off; some chairing it, some walking,
But all fatigued with doing nought, save playing cards and talking.

As home our brace of old maids went, each passing watchman's warning,
Proclaim'd, "Past two;" said Mrs. Frump, "Dear me, 'tis Sunday morning!
Well, who'd have thought it! what a shame! now is it not, Miss Nancy?
I wish we'd come away before." (She told a lie, I fancy.)

But here to this my beauteous strain, at length I must say, Amen,
And bid adieu to Lords and Counts, to Ladies gay, and gay Men;

And much I hope, although these things sometimes should not be slighted,
When next her Ladyship's "at home," I may not be invited.

A Happy New-Year.*

1.

HARK! hark! the sharp voice of Old Christopher North
Rings out from Edina, the gem of the Forth:
The year twenty-three like a vapour has past,
And he's nearer by one twelvemonth more to his last.
He dreads not that day—for he trusts he has stood,
Though too freakish at times, yet in all by the good;
So he watches the march of Old Time without fear,
And wishes you, darlings, a Happy New-Year.

2.

He greets you, because the dear bond of our love
Is flourishing proudly all others above;

Her sons still as manly, her daughters as true—
[He speaks of the many, and mourns for the few-]
That she still is the realm of the wise and the free,
Of the Victors of Europe, the Lords of the Sea—
And gratitude dims his old eyes with a tear,
While he wishes you, darlings, a Happy New-Year.

3.

His heart sings with joy, while all round him he sees
Her citizens prosper, her cities increase,

Her taxes diminish,―her revenues rise,

Her credit spring up, as her oaks to the skies,-
Her coasts full of commerce,—her purses of gold, -
Her granary with corn, and with cattle her fold.

He is proud to see Monarchs bend low, cap in hand,
To ask aid from her merchants, plain men of our land,
To see them their millions so readily fling,

And book down as debtor an Emperor or King:

That a nod from her head, or a word from her mouth,

Shakes the World, Old and New, from the North to the South;

That her purse rules in peace, as in war did her spear,

And he wishes you, darlings, a Happy New-Year.

From Blackwood for January, 1824.-It is given as addressed "To the True Men of the Land, from Christopher North." — M.