Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell, For Jenny Lind may boast with greater reason; His numbers he for gold could never sell— She makes her fortune in a season! [Illustration: "OH MY PROPHETIC SOUL! MY UNCLE." ] A CURIOUS INQUIRY. BY A MEMBER OF THE ANIMALS' FRIEND SOCIETY. I wonder with what feelings does a cat contemplate a fiddle? Does the sight of it move his bowels of compassion? Does he look upon it as the hated persecutor of his innocent race for years? Is he vindictive against it? Does some inward voice tell him that on that very spot was murdered perhaps one of his dearest relations? Does he feel prompted to revenge? Does it ever strike him that it may be his own case to-morrow? If a cat feels all this, then the sight of a fiddle cannot be the pleasantest object in the world to him, and I fancy I see in my mind's eye a family of orphan kittens weeping over a violin as the cruel instrument of their father's death. But, alas! it's all fiddle-de-dee. Cats have no feelings, or else every Tom in every village would be a Hamlet! [Illustration] * * * * * HOW TO BEGIN THE NEW YEAR.—The first thing is to take one year off your age. Recollect every year you grow older you are one year younger. Ladies are not restricted to any number. He must be a fine bore indeed who succeeds in piercing a lady's years! * * * * * HOW TO PUT DOWN REPEAL IN IRELAND.—Agitate for it in England. SAYINGS AND DOINGS OF MR. BROOK GREEN. [Illustration: NOT WITTY HIMSELF, BUT THE CAUSE OF WIT IN OTHERS. ] Poor Brook Green was always too ready to display his ignorance. Nothing could restrain him, when he found a good opportunity A gentleman was showing the Elgin marbles to some ladies in the British Museum, when Green rushed up to him, and said in the most positive manner, "Excuse me, sir, but I think you called those stones marbles!" "I did, sir," replied the gentleman, rather surprised. "Well, but now look at them, really you cannot call them marbles." "But I do, sir, I maintain that they are," exclaimed the gentleman in a simmering passion; "do you pretend to tell me that they are not the Elgin marbles?" "Pooh, pooh," said Green, with a contemptuous smile, "it's ridiculous—you can't be serious." "Since they are not the Elgin marbles, then, sir, perhaps you can tell me what they are?" "Oh! that's not for me to say," answered Brook Green; "but I can only assure these ladies that they're a precious deal more skittles than marbles," and he walked away quite triumphantly.