Proverbial philosophy will occasionally fail, and we need go no further for an instance than the well known maxim as to the propriety of "a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together." Take six hearty coalheavers, and, putting between them a pot of porter, call upon them to take "a long pull and a strong pull," if you please; but pause before you invite them to the impracticable operation of "a pull all together." * * * * * VESTED RIGHT. There's strength in rock, to take the shock Of wave, with naked brows; There's pith in oak, to mock the stroke Of wind, with stubborn boughs; But where grew wood, and where rock stood Wind blows and sea-wave ploughs. I am not rock, I am not oak; My roots are short and slight; With foes more grave than wind or wave It is my lot to fight. 'Gainst Time and Life I wage a strife-- My name is VESTED RIGHT! And still I stand, all through the land, With face for every foe;-- The Vestry's lord--its law my word-- I deal my "aye" and "no:"-- On Boards of Health I glide by stealth, All new lights out to blow. As Alderman, whene'er I can The civic roast I rule; My fingers fold all icy-cold Round Charity and School; From off the Bench, Law's sword I wrench, And make the blade my tool. From high St. Paul's my vision falls Upon a world of slaves; That foul line rounds my kingdom's bounds With intramural graves; Yon pall of smoke, that Heaven doth choke-- 'Tis my black flag that waves! As Kings of old, when they would hold A Progress through the land, Had hunting-seat or palace meet Still ready at command; So seats are mine, where lodgings line, Garnished and swept do stand-- 'Tis where doth stream the foetid steam From the bone-boiler's vat, The knacker's yard, which penned and barred, Sends out its odours fat; The slaughter-vault, whence, ne'er at fault, Peereth the carrion rat. In tanneries' stink, on cesspools' brink, I sit and sleep and snuff; The fever's breath brings me no death, I hold such terrors stuff; The odours flung from Smithfield dung To me smell sweet enough. I've my own graves to take the slaves Whom 'tis my mood to kill; The parish may the cost defray, Full pits my pockets ill. I've gains allowed from shell and shroud-- Each pauper brings his bill! When of my field an inch I yield, I yield it nothing loath; The vacant spot is straight a plot For Compensation's growth-- That vigorous weed whose fruitful seed I sow and harvest both. While thus I rule, the good old school Rebellious spirits tames: My sway supports in camps and courts-- One shape of many names! Who dares make fight 'gainst Vested Right? Who dares gainsay my claims? * * * * * SOLUTION OF HAUNTED HOUSES.