A lady, seeing her lover running in great haste to meet her, observed to him, that he must be in a very great hurry to run so fast. ‘Madam,’ replied the lover, ‘I was _following_ my inclination.’ THE WEEPING WIDOW. Lady B----, who, in public, bewails her dead spouse, While in private, her thoughts on another are turning; Reminds us of lighting a fire with green boughs, Which weep at one end, while the other is burning. A Lord Lieutenant, going over to Ireland with his lady and family, was in his passage, overtaken by so violent a storm, that the mariners themselves gave the vessel over for lost, and expected every minute that she would either founder or go ashore. At this juncture a sailor observing one of the menials standing pale with fear at the cabin door, came up to him, and asked him if ever he had _lain_ with the duchess. ‘No,’ says the poor fellow, frightened at such waggery in such a dangerous time. ‘Why then,’ says the tar, ‘you have that pleasure to come; for by G----, we shall _lie_ with her grace in less than half an hour.’ The duke, who overheard this, when the storm was abated, and the danger was over, sent the fellow a handsome present, and forgave him the impudence of the jest. ACCOMMODATION.--The following curious notice was affixed to the residence of a gentleman, whose premises had suffered by some nightly depredators.--‘Notice, those persons who have been in the habit of stealing my fence for a considerable time past, are respectfully informed, that if agreeable to them it will be more convenient to me if they steal my wood, and leave the fence for the present, and as it may be some little inconvenience getting over the paling, the gate is left open for their accommodation. ANONYMOUS BAPTISM.--The late Mr. M’Cubbin of Douglas, a most happy humourist, and who was seldom outwitted, had his gravity severely put to the test upon one occasion when officiating in a neighbouring congregation, by a rustic who was no less impudent than ignorant. After having administered the vows, and received the satisfactory nods, the clown reached up the child towards the pulpit to receive the initiatory sprinkling without either whispering the name or tendering _a line_ to that effect. The minister had for a considerable time bent his head, and inclined his head to no purpose; until at last his patience beginning to fail, he addressed the sponsor in rather a surly tone, ‘Your child’s name?’ Not a syllable from the man! Mr. M’Cubbin repeated very audibly, ‘Your child’s name, Sir?’ ‘Ye’ve naething ado wi’ that,’ rejoined the fellow, ‘gie ye’t its water,’ which the good man was obliged to do, to the no small merriment of the gaping congregation.