Hudson, who is a general dealer, purchased a cottage, to which pertained amongst other _furniture_ a sty. As this was of course uninhabited, his first care was to supply it with inmates, and, having purchased a couple of fine pigs, he set off homewards with his bargains comfortably lodged in his cart. Upon arriving at Buenos Ayres, a part of the harness broke, down went the cart, and out shot Hudson and his bristly companions backwards; but unfortunately falling upon one of the poor animals, he crushed him to death. This was bad, Hudson looked blank, as who does not upon perceiving Dame Fortune playing him foul? and woeful was it indeed to witness death amongst his live stock; in this dilemma however, his wits did not utterly forsake him, and concluding that if he could make the animal bleed, it would probably be marketable and not prove a _dead_ loss, he proceeded to act on this prudent supposition, and immediately cut its throat; which sanguinary act so alarmed the companion pig, that taking to his heels, he instantly made off (like his swinish brethren of old) towards the sea. Poor Hudson, between the dead and the living pig, was dreadfully distressed, being apprehensive of losing both; however being fortunate enough to engage a man to pursue the absconded delinquent, he proceeded home with the defunct, and by dint of ablutions, and scrapings, &c. really made of it "a very pretty pig." This done, it was hung up in the dairy or beer-cellar, I know not which, ready for market, and if Hudson plumed himself upon cheating fortune at least in one instance, he was not to blame; but, lo! in the morning, poor pig, presented a hideous and horrible spectacle, and poor Hudson stood aghast to behold it! The cats had made during the night so plentiful a repast upon his new purchase, so that instead of a handsome corpse there remained only a mangled assemblage of bloody bones, and fragments of flesh! Poor Hudson! but after all, these misfortunes were mainly attributable to his own carelessness, and as to whether he ever recovered his truant pig, I cannot say; perhaps the man may be in pursuit of him still. S.L. * * * * * ON A PERSON SAYING HE SPENT TOO MUCH TIME ON MUSIC. On music that you spend your time, You surely can't mean what you say, For all who know you must allow You keep time whilst you sing or play. * * * * * OLD PARR. Thomas Parr lived to the extraordinary age of 152 years. He was of the county of Salop, born anno 1483. He lived in the reigns of ten princes, viz. Edward IV., King Edward V., King Richard III., King Henry VII., King Henry VIII., King Edward VI., Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, King James, and King Charles, was buried at Westminster Abbey, November 15, 1635. C.K.W. * * * * * THE MARCH OF INTELLECT.