Here lies my wife; there let her lie; She is at rest—and so am I. We do not suppose that this was ever engraved on a tombstone, either in French or English; but the following lines are said to have been copied from a slab in an English church:— Here lies the body of Sarah Sexton, Who as a wife did never vex one; We can’t say that for her at the next stone. The next specimen is also known to have appeared on a tomb in Essex:— Here lies the man Richard, And Mary his wife; Their surname was Pritchard; They lived without strife; And the reason was plain; They abounded in riches, They no care had nor pain, And the wife wore the breeches. We will not multiply examples of these compositions. Lines of the description we have quoted have often found their way into print, and we have selected one or two of the least offensive as examples of eccentricity. THE GOOD OLD TIMES IN PARIS. AN ADVENTURE WITH ROBBERS. From Chamber’s Edinburgh Journal. The world, since it was a world at all, has ever been fond of singing the praises of the good old times. It would seem a general rule, that so soon as we get beyond a certain age, whatever that may be, we acquire a high opinion of the past, and grumble at every thing new under the sun. One cause of this may be, that distance lends enchantment to the view, and that the history of the past, like a landscape travelled over, loses in review all the rugged and wearisome annoyances that rendered it scarcely bearable in the journey. But it is hardly worth while to speculate upon the causes of an absurdity which a little candid retrospection will do more to dissipate than whole folios of philosophy. We can easily understand a man who sighs that he was not born a thousand years hence instead of twenty or thirty years ago, but that any one should encourage a regret that his lot in life was not cast a few centuries back, seems inexplicable on any rational grounds. The utter folly of praising the good old times may be illustrated by a reference to the wretched condition of most European cities; but we shall confine ourselves to the single case of Paris, now one of the most beautiful capitals in the world.