marriages idiotism; and marriage at the best he was wont to say, with a kindling eye and a heightened colour, marriage at the best--was the devil. Yet it must not be supposed that Sir William Devereux was an ungallant man. On the contrary, never did the _beau sexe_ have a humbler or more devoted servant. As nothing in his estimation was less becoming to a wise man than matrimony, so nothing was more ornamental than flirtation. He had the old man's weakness, garrulity, and he told the wittiest stories in the world, without omitting any thing in them but the point. This omission did not arise from the want either of memory or of humour, but solely from a deficiency in the malice natural to all jesters. He could not persuade his lips to repeat a sarcasm hurting even the dead or the ungrateful; and when he came to the drop of gall which should have given zest to the story, the milk of human kindness broke its barrier despite himself, and washed it away. He was a fine wreck, a little prematurely broken by dissipation, but not perhaps the less interesting on that account; tall, and somewhat of the jovial old English girth, with a face where good nature and good living mingled their smiles and glow. He wore the garb of twenty years back, and was curiously particular in the choice of his silk stockings. He was not a little vain of his leg, and a compliment on that score was always sure of a gracious reception. * * * * * The Gatherer. A snapper up of unconsidered trifles. SHAKSPEARE. * * * * * Lord Sundon was one of the commissioners of the treasury in the reign of George II. The celebrated Bob Doddington was a colleague of the noble lord, and was always complaining of his slowness of comprehension. One day that lord Sundon laughed at something which Doddington had said, Winnington, another member of the board, said to him, in a whisper, "You are very ungrateful: you see lord Sundon takes your joke." "No, no," replied Doddington, "he is laughing now at what I said last board day."--_Monthly Mag_. * * * * * STINGING MISTAKE. A certain person, who shall be nameless, filled the situation of Plumian Professor of Astronomy at Oxford. He was a great stickler for decorum, and all due respect to his office. One day he received a letter by the post, directed to himself, as the _Plumbian_ Professor. He shook with indignation. What an insult! _Plumbian_ professor! Leaden professor! Was it meant to insinuate that there was any thing of a leaden quality in his lectures or writings! While thus irate, a friend of the professor happened to drop in. He showed him the letter, and expatiated upon the indignity of the superscription. His friend endeavoured to convince him that it must be merely a slip of the pen. In vain. The professor would not be pacified. "Well," said his friend, "at any rate, it is evident the _b_ has stung you."--_Ibid_.