NEAR-SIDE HORSE—Do you hear how the poor old thing’s a sufferin’?—She must feel it a good deal to have her squabs sat on by everybody as can pay for her. She was built by Pearce, of Long-acre, for the Duchess of Dorsetshire. I wonder her perch don’t break—she has been crazy a long time. WATERMAN.—Snow-hill—opposite the Saracen’s Head. NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—I know’d it! COACHMAN.—Kuck! kuck! WHIP.—Whack! whack! OFF-SIDE HORSE.—Pull away, my dear fellow; a little extra exertion may save us from flagellation. NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—Well, I’m pulling, ain’t I? OFF-SIDE HORSE.—I don’t like to dispute your word; but—(whack)—Oh! that was an abrasion on my shoulder. NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—A raw you mean. Who’s not pulling now, I should like to know! OFF-SIDE HORSE.—I couldn’t help hopping then; you know what a grease I have in my hind leg. NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—Well, haven’t I a splint and a corn, and ain’t one of my fore fetlocks got a formoses, and my hind legs the stringhalt? WOMAN.—Stop! stop! COACHMAN.—Whoo up!—d—n you! OFF-SIDE HORSE.—There goes my last masticator! NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—And I’m blow’d if he hasn’t jerked my head so that he’s given me a crick in the neck; but never mind; if she does get out here, we shall save the hill. WOMAN.—Three doors higher up. COACHMAN.—Chuck! chuck! WHIP.—Whack! whack! COACHMAN.—Come up, you varmint! OFF-SIDE HORSE—Varmint! and to me! the nephew of the great Lottery! O Pegasus! what shall I come to next! NEAR-SIDE HORSE.—Alamode beef, may be, or perhaps pork sassages! The old woman was so long in that house where she stopped, that I was obleeged to toddle home, for my wife has a rather unpleasant way of taking me by the scruff of my neck if I ain’t pretty regular in my hours. Yours, werry obediently, TOBY. COURT CIRCULAR. Communicated exclusively to this Journal by MASTER JONES, whose services we have succeeded in retaining, though opposed by the enlightened manager of a metropolitan theatre, whose anxiety to advance the interest of the drama is only equalled by his ignorance of the means. Since the dissolution of Parliament, Lord Melbourne has confined himself entirely to stews. Stalls have been fitted up in the Royal nursery for the reception of two Alderney cows, preparatory to the weaning of the infant Princess; which delicate duty Mrs. Lilly commences on Monday next. Sir Robert Peel has been seen several times this week in close consultation with the chief cook. Has he been offered the premiership? Mr. Moreton Dyer, “the amateur turner,” has been a frequent visitor at the palace of late. Palmerston, it is whispered, has been receiving lessons in the art. We are surprised to hear this, for we always considered his lordship a Talleyrand in turning. A QUARTER-DAY COGITATION. (WRITTEN ON THE BACK OF A “NOTED” TAILOR’S BILL.) By winter’s chill the fragrant flower is nipp’d, To be new-clothed with brighter tints in spring; The blasted tree of verdant leaves is stripp’d,