O quid tua te be bis bia abit ra ra ra es et in ram ram ram i i Mox eris quod ego nunc. By accident the meaning was discovered, and the solution is equally remarkable for its ingenuity and for the morality it inculcates:--"O superbe quid superbis? tua superbia te superabit. Terra es, et in terram ibis. Mox eris quod ego nunc."--"O vain man! why shouldst thou be proud? thy pride will be thy ruin. Dust thou art, and to dust shalt thou return. Soon shalt thou be what I am now." W. G. C. * * * * * THE COSMOPOLITE. WET WEATHER. (_For the Mirror_.) "John's temper depended very much upon the air; his spirits rose and fell with the weather-glass."--ARBUTHNOT. No one can deny that the above is a _floating_ topic; and we challenge all the philosophy of ancients or moderns to prove it is not. After the memorable July 15, (St. Swithin,) people talk of the result with as much certainty as a merchant calculates on _trade winds_; and in like manner, hackney-coachmen and umbrella-makers have their _trade rains_. Indeed, there are, as Shakespeare's contented Duke says, "books in the running brooks, and good in every thing;"[1] and so far from neglecting to turn the ill-wind to our account, we are disposed to venture a few seasonable truisms for the gratification of our readers, although a wag may say our subject is a dry one. [1] Only the other evening we heard two sons of the whip on a hackney-coach stand thus invoke the showery deity: "God send us a good heavy shower;" then the fellows looked upwards, chuckled, and rubbed their hands.