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bearer, who was a painter, to his protection; and begged he would employ him. The gentleman had lately fitted up a new hall, and wanted a large piece to fill up one end of it; he told the painter he should draw him a picture for it, and said he, "you shall chuse the subject yourself. What shall it be?" After hesitating a moment- "What think you of the Judgment of Solomon !" replied the painter.'Why, aye,” said the gentleman, " it will admit a good many figures and decorations; I do not care if it is." He then carried the painter into a closet; "Here," said he, "I want a small picture for the chimney-piece: what story would make a pleasant little piece?" The artist seemed to consider a little, and then scratching kis head, with great taste, replied,-"Why suppose you have a little Judgment of Solomon."— The gentleman started; but being of an easy complying temper, found out it would be well enough to see the same story in large and in little, and consented; but not thinking that he

had still found work enough for his friend's painter, he bethought himself of a summerhouse, where he sometimes drank a cheerful bottle, the ceiling of which was out of repair: he carried the painter thither, and said,-"I should like to have some gay little history painted here can you think of none that would be proper for such a sort of room?"—" O, yes, Sir," said he, "there's not a cleverer story for the purpose than the-Judgment of Solomon." Here the poor gentleman lost all patience, and kicked the rascally pretender out of doors, who had just learned to draw one subject, and was fit for nothing else in the world.

THE OLD COACHMAN;

A NEW BALLAD:

OR THE TRAVELS OF MR. PULTNEY AND LORD CARTERET TO CLERMONT.

WHEN Caleb and Cart'ret, two birds of a

feather,

Went down to a feast at Newcastle's together; No matter what wines, or what choice of good

cheer,

'Tis enough that the Coachman had his dose of

beer.

Derry down, &c.

Coming home, as the liquor worked up in his

pate,

The Coachman drove on at a damnable rate;

Poor Cart'ret in terror, and scar'd all the while, Cry'd, "Stop, let me out-is the dog an Argyle?” Derry down, &c.

But he soon was convinced of his error, for, lo, John stopt short in the dirt and no further could

go;

When Cart'ret saw this, he observed, with a

laugh,

"This Coachman, I find, is your own, my Lord

Bath."

Derry down, &c.

Now the Peers quit the coach in a pitiful

plight,

Deep in mire and rain, and without any light; Not a path to pursue, nor to guide them a friend, What course shall they take then, and how will this end?

Derry down, &c.

Lo! Chance, the great master of human affairs, Who governs in councils, and conquers in wars;

Straight, with grief at their case, for the Goddess

well knew,

That these were her creatures and votaries true,

Derry down, &c.

This Chance brought a Passenger* quick to their aid,

"Honest friend, can you drive?"-" What should ail me he said;

[way,

"For many a bad season, through many a bad "Old Orford* I've driven without stop or stay. Derry down, &c.

"He was overturn'd, I confess, but not hurt," Quoth the Peers-" It was we help'd him out of the dirt;

"This boon for thy master then prithee requite, "Take us up or else here we must wander all night."

Derry down, &c.

* Mr. Scroop was Secretary of the Treasury under Sir R. Walpole, and the new ministry was forced to retain him from their own ignorance of business.—W.