I have learned that the superstition about the bees deserting their hives on the death of one of their owner's family, is common in the same county. A lady tells me, that calling upon some poor people who lived at Hyde Green, near Ingatestone, she inquired after the bees. The old woman of the house replied, "They have all gone away since the death of poor Dick; for we forgot to knock at the hives, and tell them he was gone dead." C. MANSFIELD INGLEBY. OLD SONG, "NOT LONG AGO I DRANK A FULL POT." I send another old song; and, as in the case of the "Cuckold's Cap," I would ask is it known? Not long ago I drank a full pot, Full of sack up to the brim, I drank to my friend, and he drank his pot, Thus we put about the whim. Six bottles at a draught he pour'd down his throat; But what are such puny sips as these? I laid me all along, with my mouth unto the bung, And I drank up a hogshead to the lees. I have heard of one who drank whole tankards, And styl'd himself the Prince of Sots; But what are such poor puny drunkards? Melt their tankards, break their pots. My friend and I did join for a cellar full of wine, We drank the vintner out of door, We drank it ev'ry drop, one morning at the tap, And we greedily star'd about for more. My friend then to me made this motion, Don't let's part thus with dry lips; With that we sail'd upon the ocean, Where we met with a fleet of ships; All laden with wine which was superfine, The merchants they had ten thousand tun, We drank it all at sea, before they reach'd the quay, And the merchants swore they were all undone. My friend not having quench'd his thirst, Said, to the vineyard let us haste; There we seized the canary first, That yielded to us but a taste: From thence unto the Rhine, where we drank up all their wine; Till Bacchus cried "Hold, hold! 'ere I die!" He swore he never found, in the universe around, Two such thirsty souls as my friend and I. "Pooh!" says one, "what a beast he makes himself, He can neither stand nor go!" "Sir," said I, "that's a grand mistake of yours, For when did you ever know a beast drink so? 'Tis when we drink the least, we drink the most like beasts; 'Tis when we carouse with six in hand; 'Tis then and only then, we drink about like men, When we drink 'till we neither can go nor stand." J. R. R. Minor Notes.