In a company where the conversation happened to turn upon the Mosaical account of the creation of the first woman, a lady made the following remark:--“The Creator appears, in this story, in the light of a midnight robber--he steals from Adam in his sleep.” “Allow me, madam,” said a gentleman, “to narrate an anecdote by way of argument against your objection. Last night, some persons broke into my father’s house; they carried away a bar of silver, and left in its place a richly chased golden vase. Can we consider these men as thieves?” “Thieves!” exclaimed the lady, “no; benefactors.” “Well, then,” said the gentleman, “in what manner ought we to regard Him who took away a worthless rib, and gave in exchange an inestimable treasure?” REASON TO BE THANKFUL. A very worthy, though not particularly erudite, underwriter at Lloyd’s, was conversing one day with a friend in the coffee-house on the subject of a ship they had mutually insured. His friend observed, “Do you know that I shrewdly suspect our ship is in _jeopardy_?” “The devil she is,” replied he, “well, I’m glad that she’s got _into some port at last_.” WILKES. At the period of Wilkes’s popularity, every wall bore his name, and every window his portrait. In china, in bronze, or in marble, he stood upon the chimney-pieces of half the houses of the metropolis? he swung upon the sign-post of every village, of every great road throughout the country. He used himself to tell, with much glee, of a monarchical old lady, behind whom he accidently walked, looking up, and murmuring within his hearing, in much spleen, “He swings everywhere but where he ought!” Wilkes passed her, and, turning round, politely bowed. INSCRIPTION FOR AN APOTHECARY. The following was, in consequence of an evening’s frolic, inscribed by some wags of Oxford, over an apothecary’s door:-- Hic venditur Catharticum, Emeticum, Narcoticum, Et omne quod exit in um, Præter Remedium. WIT IN A FOOTMAN. “How do you like your new place, Jack?” said a smart liveried footman, to an old fellow-servant whom he met in Pall Mall, bearing one of the lottery placards. “Pretty well,” replied the other: “if it’s not quite so genteel as yours, it is more independent; for, don’t you see, I get seventeen shillings per week, and _my board_,” pointing to the notice on his shoulder. THE COUNTER-SIGN. When those trusty defenders of the country, the Tower Hamlets militia, were doing duty, a fat shopkeeper having fallen asleep when sentry, was called upon to give the watchword. “The watchword!” said another; “ask him for the _counter-sign_.” MAKING MONEY GO FAR.