WHO does not remember Francis Hobler, for upwards of half a century principal clerk to the Lord Mayor, and whose pleasantries relieved the tedium of many a strange case at the Mansion-house justice-room? He was a man of generous nature, and in him the wretched and unfortunate ever found a compassionate and sympathising friend; he was a constant terror to the confirmed beggar and hardened criminal; the recognition of his keen and penetrating eye, followed by the notice, "You and I are old friends, I think," being always fatal to their pursuits for at least some time to come.

One illustration of Mr. Hobler's vividness of recollection is very amusing. A daring young thief having been brought up at the Mansion-house on a charge of burglary, the old gentleman eyed him through his glass, and said, "We have seen each other before now." "No, we haven't, old boy," was the impudent reply; upon which, quietly turning on his seat, Mr. Hobler said, "I think I've an invite of yours," and opening a drawer took out and read, to the great merriment of the listeners, a card printed in the hand-writing of the prisoner in red ink, soliciting the favour of his friends' attendance at a public-house in the Borough, to get "gloriously drunk," and which had been taken from his person on a commitment to Bridewell, many years before, as a rogue and vagabond.

In personal appearance, Mr. Hobler was a fine, tall, upright, powdered-headed gentleman, of the old school, always neatly, though somewhat eccentrically dressed, in a closely buttonedup black coat, drab breeches and gaiters, which seemed to be essential to, and form a part of his very existence. In fact, it is pretty well ascertained that he was never seen in trousers.

In his habits he was perfectly regular, and, notwithstanding his advanced age, never rode but always walked to and from his residence in Queen's-row, Pentonville, and the Mansionhouse; and with such exactness as to time, that his appearance on any part of his journey was a sure indication of the precise hour of the day.

Mr. Hobler quitted the Mansion-house clerkship in 1843. He did not long survive his retirement.

SOME men's greatness comes unexpectedly on them. It was so with Mr. Brougham, when he was appointed Lord Chancellor. Two days before he was in possession of the Great Seal, he had not the remotest idea of being raised to the dignity of Lord Chancellor. Eight days before his elevation, he mentioned in the House of Commons, that the circumstance of the dissolution of the Wellington Government, which had then taken place, would not induce him to postpone the motion of which he had given notice on Negro Slavery more than a few days; adding, that his position could not possibly be affected by any new Administration which might be formed.

Lord Brougham had a great horror of hearing the interminable speeches which some of the junior counsel were in the habit of making, after he conceived every thing had been said which could be said on the real merits of the case before the Court by the gentlemen who preceded them. His hints to them to be brief on such occasions were sometimes extremely happy. On one occasion, after listening with the greatest attention to the speeches of two counsel on one side, from ten o'clock till half-past two, a third arose to address the Court on the same side. His Lordship was quite unprepared for this additional infliction, and exclaimed: "What! Mr. A., are you really going to speak on the same side?" "Yes, my Lord, I mean to trespass on your Lordship's attention for a short time." "Then," said his Lordship, looking the orator significantly in the face, and giving a sudden twitch of his nose, "then, Mr. A., you had better cut your speech as short as possible, otherwise you must not be surprised if you see me dozing; for, really, this is more than human nature can endure." The youthful barrister took the hint; he kept closely to the point at issue-a thing very rarely done by barristers-and condensed his arguments into a reasonable compass.

66

BACCHANALIA.

AN English sailor, in a state of extreme intoxication, was lying on his back in the street, in Calais. The police considerately placed him on a hand-barrow, with a view of carrying him to his quarters. They had not, however, proceeded far with their load, when Jack, opening his eyes, threw himself violently on the pavement, exclaiming with an oath, that no Frenchman should carry him." He was placed on the barrow, but he could not be kept there, as he was an unusually powerful man; but his falls had the effect of sobering him. But a richer scene than this with a drunken man was witnessed some years ago, in the suburbs of Dublin. He was lying on his face, by the roadside, apparently in a state of physical unconsciousness. "He is dead," said a countryman of his, who was looking at him. "Dead!" replied another, who had turned him with his face uppermost; "by the powers, I wish I had just half his disase !"-in other words, a moiety of the whiskey he had

drunk.

A country gentleman, after dinner, laid hard siege to his hostess' wine, despite of her pressing invitations to taste her "excellent made wines, for which she had always been so famed." Having at length prevailed, she ventured to ask for an opinion. "I always give a candid one," said her guest, "where eating and drinking are concerned. It is admirable stuff to catch flies."

One of a dinner party, who mistook some Cape wine for Madeira, putting it to his lips exclaimed, loud enough for his host to hear, "Oh, hang this Cape! I wish the place was sunk ;" and this was the last time the vile stuff appeared at that table.