Parodies, as a general thing, are rather indifferent reading. The "Rejected Addresses" and "Warrenniana," however, are brilliant exceptions to this remark. One of the most happy native exhibitions of this sort that we have seen, is a parody upon the Scottish song of "_Jessie, the Flower of Dunblane_," written by a distinguished jurist in Pennsylvania: "Oh, shweet ish de lily mit its prown yellow plossom, Und so ish de meadow, all covered mit green; But noding's so sweet, nor yet sticks in my posom, Like sweet liddel KATY, vot lives on de plain: She's pashful as any--like her dere's not many; She's neider high-larnt, nor yet foolish, nor vain; Und he's a great villain, mitout any feelin', Dat vould hurt vonce my KITTY, vot lives on de plain." * * * * * In a story which we once heard related by an Englishman, there seemed to us so good an exemplification of one phase of human incredulity, overcome by superior cunning, that we could not resist the inclination to "make a note of it." A fat, burly English landlord was sitting one afternoon at the door of his inn, in a provincial town not a hundred miles from London, when a person entered the house, and after complimenting its cleanliness and snug appearance, ordered a good dinner and a bottle of wine. The dinner, when ready, was laid in an upper apartment, looking out upon a pleasant garden; and after it had been thoroughly discussed, and the wine sipped luxuriously to the bottom of the bottle, the satisfied guest sent for his host, and when he entered the room, thus addressed him: "You have a fine inn here, landlord--a _very_ fine inn: every thing is particularly nice--in fact, what _I_ call comfortable." The landlord expressed his gratification. "I shall have great pleasure," continued the guest, without noticing the interruption, "in recommending your house to my friends in town. There remains only _one_ thing more to mention, landlord; and as the subject is one which I have reason to think will be as unpleasant to you as to myself, I will express it in a few words. I have not, at this moment, any money; but I will be here again in--" "_No money_!" exclaimed the landlord, in a voice husky with anger. "NO MONEY!! then why did you come to the 'Hen-and-Chickens' and run up a bill that you can't pay? Get out of my house this instant! Go! walk!" "I expected this," replied the guest, rising; "I anticipated this treatment; nor can I much blame you, landlord, to tell you the truth, for you don't _know_ me. Because you sometimes meet with deception, you think _I_ am deceiving you; but I pledge you my honor that a fortnight from this day I will be with you again, and you will confess your self ashamed of your suspicions." "Bah! you're a swindler!" ejaculated Boniface; "this will be the last of you: take _that_!" and with a vigorous _coup de pied_, was "sped the parting