PUFFING IN STYLE.--A few days ago a hawker, while cheapening his haberdashery wares, was bawling out, ‘Here’s the real good napkins; they’ll neither tear, wear, ruffle, nor rive; throw in the washing, nor go back in the pressing. All the water between the rocks of Gibralter and the Cape of Good Hope will not alter the colour of them. They were woven seven miles below ground by the light of diamonds; and the people never saw day-light but once in the seven years. They were not woven by a brosy clumsy apprentice boy, but by a right and tight good tradesman, who got two eggs, and a cup of tea, and a glass of whisky to his breakfast; and every thread is as long and strong as would hang a bull, or draw a man-of-war ship into harbour.’ HIGHLAND SIMPLICITY.--A poor simple Highlander, who last week made his appearance at Stirling shore and purchased a cart of lime, met with an adventure sufficiently untoward. Donald had no sooner got his cart well filled, than he turned his own and his horse’s head to his own dear Highland hills. He had not, however, got far beyond Stirling bridge, when a smart shower of rain came on. The lime began to smoke. Donald, who was sitting on the front of his cart, at first supposed it to be nothing but a whiff of mountain mist, but at last becoming enveloped in the cloud, and no longer able to see his way before him, he bethought him it was time to cast a look behind, and was not a little amazed to discover that the whole cause of the annoyance proceeded from his cart of lime. It was on fire, but how was beyond his comprehension. He stopt his horse and stood still, in hopes the rain would quench the intruding element, but remarking no abatement, he next drove his cart to a stream at a short distance, and taking his shovel, began busily to throw water upon his smoking load. This speedily brought Donald’s difficulties to a crisis, for his steed, unaccustomed to the heat which threatened to deprive aim of his tail, began now to exhibit symptoms of open rebellion. Besides, seeing that his cart was in danger of being burnt to a cinder, and not knowing but the horse might take it into his head to commence burning too, he was resolved the bewitched load and ‘the puir beast and braw bit cart’, should instantly be disunited. He accordingly unyoked the impatient animal, and immediately buried the smoking lime in the stream, triumphantly exclaiming as the hissing mass yielded to the overpowering element, ‘the deil’s in her if she’ll burn noo.’ THE COMICAL SAYINGS OF PADDY FROM CORK, WITH HIS Coat Buttoned Behind. BEING AN ELEGANT CONFERENCE BETWEEN ENGLISH TOM AND IRISH TEAGUE; WITH PADDY’S CATECHISM, And his Supplication when a Mountain Sailor. [Illustration] GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. COMICAL SAYINGS OF PADDY FROM CORK. PART I. _Tom._ Good morrow, Sir, this is a very cold day. _Teag._ Arra, dear honey, yesternight was a very cold morning.