It was a moment of awful import--the widow was equal to the crisis, however, and governed herself accordingly; proving the truth of some dead and gone philosopher who has left it in black and white, that the widows are always more than a _match_ for any man in Christendom! Jones was loving drunk, a stage that terminates and is a near kin to total oblivion, in bacchanalian revels. Jones had not the remotest idea of where he was--time or persons; his tongue was thick, eyes dull, ideas monstrous foggy, and the few sentences he rather unintelligibly uttered, were highly spiced with--"my little (hic) angel, you (hic), you (hic) live 'bout (hic) here? Can't you ta-take me (hic) home with you, eh? My-my old woman (hic) would raise-rai-raise old scratch if I (hic), I went home to-to-night. (Hic) I'll, I'll go home (hic) in the morning, and (hic) tell her, ha! ha! he! (hic) tell her I've be-be-been to a fire!" "O, the villain," said Mrs. J. to herself; "but I'll be revenged. Come, sir, go home with me--I'll take care of you. Come, sir, be careful; this way--in here." "Where the (hic) deuce are--are you going down this (hic) cellar, eh?" "All right, sir. Come, be careful! don't fall; rest on my arm--there, shut the door." "Why (hic), ha-hang it a--all; get a light--that's a de--ar!" "Yes, yes; wait a moment, I'll bring you a light." Mrs. J. having gotten her game bagged, left it in the dark, and retired to her bed-chamber. Some of the servants, hearing a noise in the basement, got up, stuck their noses out of their rooms, and being convinced that a desperate scoundrel was in the house, raised the very old boy. Poor Jones, in his efforts to get out, run over pots, pans, and chairs, and through him and the servants, the police were alarmed! lights were raised, and Jones was arrested for a burglar! Never was a man better pleased to find himself in his own domicil, than Jones! It was all Greek to the watchmen and servants; it was a mysterious matter to Jones for a full fortnight--but upon promise of ever after spending his new year's at home, Mrs. J. let the cat out of the bag. Jones surrendered! A Circuitous Route. We know several folks who have a way of beating round and boxing the compass, from A to Z, and back again, that fairly knocks us into smithereens. One of these characters came to us the other day, and in a most mysterious manner, with the utmost earnestness, solemnity, and _hocus pocus_, says he-- "Cap'n, (winking,) I wanted to see you--(two winks;) the fact of the business is, (wink, nod, and double wink,) I've wanted to see you, badly; you see, I-a--well, what I-a (two winks)--was about to remark (two nods and a short cough),--that is to say, it don't make much matter, if-a--(wink, wink, wink;) you see it was in this way, I-a--wanted to--a, to tell you that (dreadful lot of winks) I've been--not, to be sure, that it's an uncommon-a thing, (nod, cough, and forty winks,) but no doubt if I-a--the fact is--"