MR. WESLEY, during his voyage to America, hearing an unusual noise in the cabin of General Oglethorpe (the Governor of Georgia, with whom he sailed), stepped in to inquire the cause of it, on which the General immediately addressed him: "Mr. Wesley, you must excuse me. I have met with a provocation too great for man to bear. You know the only wine I drink is Cyprus wine, as it agrees with me the best of any; and this villain Grimaldi (his foreign servant) has drunk up the whole I had on board. But I will be revenged of him. I have ordered him to be tied hand and foot, and to be carried to the man-of-war that sails with us. The rascal should have taken care how he used me, for _I never forgive_."--"Then I hope, sir," said John Wesley, looking calmly at him, "_you never sin_." The General was quite confounded at the reproof, and putting his hand into his pocket took out a bunch of keys, which he threw at Grimaldi, saying, "There, villain! Take my keys, and behave better for the future." MCDIII.--THE LAME BEGGAR. "I AM unable," yonder beggar cries, "To _stand or move_." If he says true, he _lies_. MCDIV.--HOLLAND'S FUNERAL. HOLLAND, who was a great favorite with Foote, died. While the funeral ceremony was performing, G. Garrick remarked to Foote: "You see what a snug family vault we have made here."--"_Family vault_!" said Foote, with tears trickling down his cheeks, "I thought it had been a family _oven_." MCDV.--PRETTY. HOPE is the dream of those who are awake. MCDVI.--NOT IMPROBABLE. A CERTAIN young clergyman, modest almost to bashfulness, was once asked by a country apothecary, of a contrary character, in a public and crowded assembly, and in a tone of voice sufficient to catch the attention of the whole company, "How it happened that the patriarchs lived to such extreme old age?" To which question the clergyman replied, "_Perhaps they took no physic_." MCDVII.--SOUGHT AND FOUND. THREE conceited young wits, as they thought themselves, passing along the road near Oxford, met a grave old gentleman, with whom they had a mind to be rudely merry. "Good-morrow, father Abraham," said one; "Good-morrow, father Isaac," said the next; "Good-morrow, father Jacob," cried the last. "I am neither Abraham, Isaac, nor Jacob," replied the old gentleman, "but Saul, the son of Kish, who went out to seek his father's _asses_, and lo! here I have found them." MCDVIII.--NO REDEEMING VIRTUE. "PRAY, does it always rain in this hanged place, Enough to drive one mad, heaven knows?" "No, please your grace," Cried Boniface, With some grimace, "_Sometimes it snows_." MCDIX.--A REMARKABLE ECHO.