Ready wit in women (now passed away); wit, too, combined with courage, is by no means rare. During the ruro-diabolical reign of ‘Swing,’ that incarnation of ruffianism, in the person of the most hideous blackguard in the district, with a mob of thieves and murderers at his back, attacked Fifield, the old family residence of two elderly maiden ladies, named Penruddock. When the mob were on the point of resorting to extreme violence, Miss Betty Penruddock expressed her astonishment to the ugly leader of the band that ‘such a good-looking man as he should be captain of such an ill-favoured band of robbers. Never again will I trust to good looks!’ cried the old lady, whose flattery so touched the vanity of ‘Swing’ that he prevailed on his followers to desist. ‘Only give us some beer,’ he said, ‘and we won’t touch a hair of your head!’ ‘You can’t,’ retorted the plucky old lady, ‘for I wear a wig!’ On the other hand, the vanity of young ladies was once effectually checked at Hampton Court Chapel. A youthful beauty once fainted, and the handsome Sir Horace Seymour carried her out. On successive Sundays successive youthful beauties fainted, and the handsome Sir Horace carried them successively out, till he grew tired of bearing such sweet burdens. A report that in future all swooning nymphs would be carried out of the chapel by _the dustman_ cured the epidemic. We are much disposed to think that there is at least as much ready wit and terseness of expression among the humbler classes as among those who are higher born and better taught. Much has been said of the ladies of Llangollen, Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Ponsonby. We question if in all that has been written of those pseudo-recluses, they have been half so well hit-off as by Mrs. Morris, a lodging-house keeper in the neighbourhood. ‘I must say, sir, after all,’ observed Mrs. Morris, ‘that they were very charitable and cantankerous. They did a deal of good, and never forgave an injury!’ There is something of the ring of Mrs. Poyser in this pithily-rendered judgment. Quite as sharp a passage turns up in the person of an eccentric toll-keeper, Old Jeffreys, who was nearly destitute of mental training, and whom Mr. Julian Young was anxious to draw to church service. The old man was ready for him. ‘Yes, sir, it be a pity, bain’t it? We pike-keepers, and shepherds, and carters, and monthly nusses has got souls as well as them that goes to church and chapel. But what can us do? “Why,” I says, says I, to the last parson as preached to me, “don’t catechism say summat or other about doing our duty in that state of life in which we be?” So, after all, when I be taking toll o’ Sundays, I’m not far wrong, am I?’ The rector proposed to find a paid substitute for him while he attended church. Jeffreys was ready with his reply. ‘That ’ud never do, sir,’ he said. ‘What! leave my post to a stranger? What would master say to me if he heard on’t.’ Mr. Julian Young, pointing with pleasure to