"If the sittings (not counting the free seats Which are placed in the draught near the door), Be computed, I think there must _be_ seats For nine hundred pew-renters or more; Then the district quite swarms with young ladies, And the tenant who's recently gone, From the slippers they worked him, quite paid his Clerk, sexton, and choir of St. John. By the bishop its licence was granted; But the owners no bid will reject-- As the cash is immediately wanted-- From any persuasion or sect. There, the Jumper may practise gymnastics; There the Ranter's glib tongue may run on; Turks or Hindoos, or Buddhists, or Aztecs, May use, if they pay for, St. John. Ha! a Thousand! a Rapper then offers; Fifteen hundred! the Mormons exclaim. Come, Gentlemen, open your coffers, For your biddings are terribly tame. Two thousand! Not half enough! Yet it Must go to the Rappers; Going! Gone! The key's with the sexton, Sir; get it, And yours is the church of St. John." * * * * * OUR METEOROLOGICAL REPORT. The public is much indebted to a gentleman named LOWE, who lives at Bermondsey, and writes every day to the _Times_, to inform the world which way the wind blew on the preceding day, how much rain fell late in the evening, what amount of cloud was floating about at a particular hour of the day, and other equally interesting particulars. On Tuesday this gentleman reports his detection of some "cirri," and he kindly writes to the _Times_ to give the world the benefit of the discovery. Anxious to make ourselves generally useful, we have attempted a few meteorological observations on our own account, and the following is the report we have to offer:-- Barometer fell--to the ground and smashed. Thermometer rose to blood heat--having been turned upside down by an infant. Direction of wind--right in our own face. Amount of rain--.001 in. in our umbrella stand. Amount of cloud--9 from our own tobacco-pipe. Should our scientific observations as recorded above tend to throw any light upon anything, we are more than satisfied. * * * * * [Illustration: NOTICE TO CORRESPONDENTS. OH DEAR NO! OLD BR----GGS IS _NOT_ DEAD--HE HAS TAKEN TO YACHTING FOR THE BENEFIT OF HIS HEALTH.] * * * * * A BIG BROTHER OF MERCY. Besides the Plymouth Brethren, there are the Plymouth Sisters, called Sisters of Mercy. These ladies, however, appear to stand in the relationship of Sister to something else than Mercy; to Choler, we may say, and Choler unbridled, so to speak, and rather asinine. The _Morning Post_ published the other day a correspondence between a MR. J. D. CHAMBERS and MR. PHINN, M.P., which will probably be considered to supply the foregoing remark with some foundation.