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Southland Times, Issue 1544, 1 March 1872, Page 3

" I would rather have a spil presently than 2,-light just now," said that incorrigible wag Jones, when the mare ran away. Barbers make many friends, but scrape more acquaintances. Another poor girl has died in Virginia from the use of tobacco at the age of 100. She was an orphan. Why is a spider a good correspondent ? Because he drops a line by every post. What is the greatest instance of cannibalism on record ? When a rash man ate a rasher ! I _Can a man be v/priglit in doing good, if he is bent on doing it ? I William, who used to boast that he never owed a shilling in his life, and never would, in less than a year after his marriage had a little Bill to take up every day. " Ah, Mr Simpkins, we have not chairs enough for our company," said a gay wife to her frugal husband. " Plenty of chairs, my dear, but a little too much company," replied he. " I suppose," said a quack, while feeling the pulse cf a patient, " that you think me a humbug ? " — " Sir," replied the sick man, " I perceive you can discover a man's thoughts by his pulse." The Paris correspondent of the JEcho writes :— A man, name unknown, was dis- ! covered poisoned iv one of the Champs i Ely sees, on Saturday night. On searching the body at the dead-house, a paper was found in the side pocket, on which he had carefully written minute by minute, his " impressions " at the approach of death. 1 subjoin a part of this strange document : — " Ten o'clock at night — I must finish. I will get into the garden and there end all in an unknown corner. Five minutes past ten ; here I am in the corner covered with my cloak. The air is cold and damp ; but what have I to fear from cold ? The gaslight reaches me. Quarter past ten ; everything is ready — I take my bottle of poison. How strange to think that those few drops will separate my soul from my body. Twenty minutes past ten ; 'tis done ; I have swallowed the liquid ! What is going on within me ? I feel nothing but curiosity. The Cafes below are gay ; I hear them. I hear them. Ah ! half-past tea ; fearful pains in my lega and back. My ideas are confused. The world is disappearing from me. My childhood appears before me — mother, father, all ! Quarter to eleven ; sleep is overcoming me. The beginning of the end is at hand. My legs are dead. Where is my soul ? Will it wander from globe to globe through thousands of centuries ? What matters ? I came into the world without thinking, I must leave it the same. Eleven o'clock ; what do they say ? The cold has reached my stomach. My head is heavy. I cannot see. Oh ! I should know ." There were a few words > more, but they could not be deciphered.