The comet of 1770 has very shamefully broken its appointments with the astronomers, and shown a degree of unpunctuality which is no less perplexing than it is unbusinesslike. The comet ought to have entered an appearance, according to the law of comets, every five years and a half; but the eccentric body has been _non inventus_ ever since, and we should be glad to see it regularly outlawed from the solar system. Comets are generally called periodical bodies because their tails are so exceedingly lengthy, like those which are continued from month to month in some of the periodicals. They differ, however, in one respect, the former being very luminous, and the latter utterly destitute of brilliancy. Between the years 1771 to 1780 there happened a regular glut of comets; no less than five having appeared in the period alluded to. This extraordinary assemblage was no doubt the first regular specimen of a monster meeting. [Illustration: THE FALL OF THE LEAF. ] THE FALL OF THE LEAF. Mister and Mistress Henry Brown Were in society but young beginners; And their ambition was to gain renown By giving very nice _récherché_ dinners. It was their boast, they used to say, Not to attempt a great display; In a small house it would have been misplaced, Therefore they merely aimed at perfect taste. It was a standing joke with Mister Brown— A joke in which he hated to be foiled— That there could be no other house in town Where taste so ruled the roast—ay, and the boiled. 'Twas the commencement of the autumn season, After some time in his own mind reviewing it, Brown gave a dinner, simply for the reason That few—except himself—would think of doing it. A London dinner-party in September, Brown did opine, was something out of the common line; A sort of thing to talk of and remember. The arrangements having been completed, The guests are round the table seated; Of turtle-soup each one had got a plate— Some one remarked the summer had been brief— "Yes!" Brown exclaimed, "'tis in the season late, We must be looking for the fall of the leaf." He'd scarcely said the words, when, with a crash, Down came the dinner-table flap, Sending some iced sauterne, with sudden splash, Into his lady's lap. Fish, water-bottles, knives and forks, _epergnes_, Came rattling down upon her all in turns: The sudden movement no one could control— A slice of bread went off into a roll. Decanters seemed disposed to fall, As if they'd had a drop too much; And stoppers never stopped at all— In fact, refused to act as such. 'Twas a mishap, and yet, the truth to tell,