Sancho, prince of Castile, being present at a papal consistory at Rome, wherein the proceedings were conducted in Latin, which he did not understand, and hearing loud applause, inquired of his interpreter what caused it: “My lord,” replied the interpreter, “the pope has caused you to be proclaimed king of Egypt.” “It does not become us,” said the grave Spaniard, “to be wanting in gratitude; rise up, and proclaim his holiness caliph of Bagdad.” * * * * * DISCOUNT FOR CASH. The following anecdote is related in a journal of the year 1789:-- A service of plate was delivered at the duke of Clarence’s house, by his order, accompanied by the bill, amounting to 1500_l._, which his royal highness deeming exorbitant, sent back, remarking, that he conceived the overcharge to be occasioned by the apprehension that the tradesman might be kept long out of his money. He added, that so far from its being his intention to pay by tedious instalments, or otherwise distress those with whom he dealt, he had laid it down as an invariable principle, to discharge every account the moment it became due. The account was returned to his royal highness the next morning, with _three hundred pounds_ taken off, _and it was instantly paid_. * * * * * SPORTING. A wit said of the late bishop of Durham, when alive, “His grace is the only man in England who may kill game legally without a stamped license: if actually taken with a gun in his hand, he might exclaim in the words of his own grants--‘I _Shute_, by divine permission.’” [77] Dr. Aikin’s Athenæum. ~March.~ “STOP AND READ.” We have seen this requisition on the walls till we are tired: in a book it is a novelty, and here, I hope it may enforce its claim. For _thy_ sake, gentle reader, I am anxious that it should; for, if thou hast a tithe of the pleasure I had, from the perusal of the following verses, I expect commendation for bidding thee “stop and read.” THE FIRST OF MARCH. The bud is in the bough And the leaf is in the bud, And Earth’s beginning now In her veins to feel the blood, Which, warm’d by summer’s sun In th’ alembic of the vine, From her founts will overrun In a ruddy gush of wine. The perfume and the bloom That shall decorate the flower, Are quickening in the gloom Of their subterranean bower; And the juices meant to feed Trees, vegetables, fruits, Unerringly proceed To their preappointed roots. How awful the thought Of the wonders under ground, Of the mystic changes wrought In the silent, dark profound; How each thing upwards tends By necessity decreed, And a world’s support depends On the shooting of a seed!