SKETCHES BY SEYMOUR

COMPLETE

EBOOK EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION:

"Sketches by Seymour" was published in various versions about 1836. The copy used for this PG edition has no date and was published byThomas Fry, London. Some of the 90 plates note only Seymour's name, many are inscribed "Engravings by H. Wallis from sketches by Seymour. "The printed book appears to be a compilation of five smaller volumes. From the confused chapter titles the reader may well suspect the printermixed up the order of the chapters. The complete book in this digitaledition is split into five smaller volumes--the individual volumes areof more manageable size than the 7mb complete version. 

The importance of this collection is in the engravings. The text isoften mundane, is full of conundrums and puns popular in the early1800's--and is mercifully short. No author is given credit for thetext though the section titled, "The Autobiography of Andrew Mullins"may give us at least his pen-name. 

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CONTENTS:

 EVERYDAY SCENES. SCENE I. Sleeping Fisherman. SCENE II. A lark--early in the morning. SCENE III. The rapid march of Intellect! SCENE IV. Sally, I told my missus vot you said. SCENE V. How does it fit behind? SCENE VI. Catching-a cold. SCENE VII. This is vot you calls rowing, is it? SCENE VIII. In for it, or Trying the middle. 

 A DAY'S SPORT. CHAP. I. The Invitation, Outfit, and the sallying forth CHAP. II. The Death of a little Pig CHAP. III. The Sportsmen trespass on an Enclosure CHAP. IV. Shooting a Bird, and putting Shot into a Calf! CHAP. V. A Publican taking Orders. CHAP. VI. The Reckoning. CHAP. VII. A sudden Explosion

 OTHER SCENES. SCENE IX. Shoot away, Bill! never mind the old woman SCENE X. I begin to think I may as well go back. SCENE XI. Mother says fishes comes from hard roes SCENE XII. Ambition. SCENE XIII. Better luck next time. SCENE XIV. Don't you be saucy, Boys. SCENE XV. Vy, Sarah, you're drunk! SCENE XVI. Lawk a'-mercy! I'm going wrong! SCENE XVII. I'm dem'd if I can ever hit 'em. SCENE XVIII. Have you read the leader in this paper SCENE XIX. An Epistle from Samuel Softly, Esq. SCENE XX. The Courtship of Mr. Wiggins. SCENE XXI. The Courtship of Mr. Wiggins. (Continued) SCENE XXII. The Itinerant Musician. SCENE XXIII. The Confessions of a Sportsman. 

 MISCELLANEOUS. PLATE I. THE JOLLY ANGLERS. PLATE II. THE BILL-STICKER. PLATE III. OLD FOOZLE. PLATE IV. THE "CRACK-SHOTS. " No. I. PLATE V. THE "CRACK-SHOTS. " No. II. PLATE VI. THE "CRACK-SHOTS. " No. III. PLATE VII. DOCTOR SPRAGGS. PLATE VIII. [SCENE IX. (b)] Well, Bill, d'ye get any bites? PLATE IX. THE POUTER AND THE DRAGON. PLATE X. THE PIC-NIC. No. I. PLATE XI. THE PIC-NIC. No. II. PLATE XII. THE BUMPKIN. FRONTPIECE II. SHOOTING TITLE PAGE II. VOLUME II. PLATE XIII. [WATTY WILLIAMS AND BULL] PLATE XIV. DELICACY! PLATE XV. Now, Jem, let's shew these gals how we can row PLATE XVI. STEAMING IT TO MARGATE. PLATE XVII. PETER SIMPLE'S FOREIGN ADVENTURE. No. I. PLATE XVIII. PETER SIMPLE'S FOREIGN ADVENTURE. No. II. PLATE XIX. DOBBS'S "DUCK. "--A LEGEND OF HORSELYDOWN. PLATE XX. STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM. PLATE XXI. A DAY'S PLEASURE. No. I. --THE JOURNEY OUT. PLATE XXII. A DAY'S PLEASURE. No. II. --THE JOURNEY HOME. PLATE XXIII. [HAMMERING] Beside a meandering stream PLATE XXIV. PRACTICE. PLATE XXV. PRECEPT. PLATE XXVI. EXAMPLE. PLATE XXVII. A MUSICAL FESTIVAL. PLATE XXVIII. THE EATING HOUSE. PLATE XXIX. [SCENE X. (b)] This is a werry lonely spot, Sir PLATE XXX. GONE! PLATE XXXI. THE PRACTICAL JOKER. No. I. PLATE XXXII. THE PRACTICAL JOKER. No. II. PLATE XXXIII. FISHING FOR WHITING AT MARGATE. 

 ANDREW MULLINS. --AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. CHAP. I. Introductory CHAP. II. Let the neighbors smell ve has something CHAP. III. I wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly CHAP. IV. A Situation. CHAP. V. The Stalking Horse. CHAP. VI. A Commission. CHAP. VII. The Cricket Match CHAP. VIII. The Hunter. CHAP. IX. A Row to Blackwall. CHAP. X. The Pic-Nic. CHAP. XI. The Journey Home. CHAP. XII. Monsieur Dubois. CHAP. XIII. My Talent Called into Active Service. CHAP. XIV. A Dilemma. CHAP. XV. An Old Acquaintance. CHAP. XVI. The Loss of a Friend. CHAP. XVII. Promotion. 

 A RIGMAROLE. PART I. "De omnibus rebus. " PART II. "Acti labores Sunt jucundi" PART III. "Oderunt hilarem tristes. "

 AN INTERCEPTED LETTER FROM DICK SLAMMER TO HIS FRIEND SAM FLYKE. PLATE I. Dye think ve shall be in time for the hunt? PLATE II. Vat a rum chap to go over the 'edge that vay!

EVERYDAY SCENES. 

SCENE I. 

"Walked twenty miles over night: up before peep o' day again got acapital place; fell fast asleep; tide rose up to my knees; my hat waschanged, my pockets picked, and a fish ran away with my hook; dreamt ofbeing on a Polar expedition and having my toes frozen. "

O! IZAAK WALTON!--Izaak Walton!--you have truly got me into a preciousline, and I certainly deserve the rod for having, like a gudgeon, sogreedily devoured the delusive bait, which you, so temptingly, threw outto catch the eye of my piscatorial inclination! I have read of rightangles and obtuse angles, and, verily, begin to believe that there arealso right anglers and obtuse anglers--and that I am really one of thelatter class. But never more will I plant myself, like a weeping willow, upon the sedgy bank of stream or river. No!--on no account will I drawupon these banks again, with the melancholy prospect of no effects! Themost 'capital place' will never tempt me to 'fish' again!

My best hat is gone: not the 'way of all beavers'--into the water--but tocover the cranium of the owner of this wretched 'tile;' and in vain shallI seek it; for 'this' and 'that' are now certainly as far as the 'poles'asunder. 

My pockets, too, are picked! Yes--some clever 'artist' has drawn mewhile asleep!

My boots are filled with water, and my soles and heels are anything butlively or delighted. Never more will I impale ye, Gentles! on the wordof a gentleman!--Henceforth, O! Hooks! I will be as dead to yourattractions as if I were 'off the hooks!' and, in opposition to the maximof Solomon, I will 'spare the rod. '

Instead of a basket of fish, lo! here's a pretty kettle of fish for theentertainment of my expectant friends--and sha'n't I be baited? as thehook said to the anger: and won't the club get up a Ballad on theoccasion, and I, who have caught nothing, shall probably be made thesubject of a 'catch!'

Slush! slush!--Squash! squash!

O! for a clean pair of stockings!--But, alack, what a tantalizingsituation I am in!--There are osiers enough in the vicinity, but no hoseto be had for love or money!

SCENE II. 

A lark--early in the morning. 

Two youths--and two guns appeared at early dawn in the suburbs. Theyouths were loaded with shooting paraphernalia and provisions, and theirguns with the best Dartford gunpowder--they were also well primed forsport--and as polished as their gunbarrels, and both could boast a good'stock' of impudence. 

"Surely I heard the notes of a bird, " cried one, looking up and down thestreet; "there it is again, by jingo!"

"It's a lark, I declare, " asserted his brother sportsman. 

"Lark or canary, it will be a lark if we can bring it down, " replied hiscompanion. 

"Yonder it is, in that ere cage agin the wall. "

"What a shame!" exclaimed the philanthropic youth, --"to imprison awarbler of the woodlands in a cage, is the very height ofcruelty--liberty is the birthright of every Briton, and British bird! Iwould rather be shot than be confined all my life in such a narrowprison. What a mockery too is that piece of green turf, no bigger than aslop-basin. How it must aggravate the feelings of one accustomed torange the meadows. "

"Miserable! I was once in a cage myself, " said his chum. 

"And what did they take you for?"

"Take me for?--for a 'lark. '"

"Pretty Dickey!"

"Yes, I assure you, it was all 'dickey' with me. "

"And did you sing?"

"Didn't I? yes, i' faith I sang pretty small the next morning when theyfined me, and let me out. An idea strikes me Suppose you climb up thatpost, and let out this poor bird, ey?"

"Excellent. "

"And as you let him off, I'll let off my gun, and we'll see whether Ican't 'bang' him in the race. "

No sooner said than done: the post was quickly climbed--the door of thecage was thrown open, and the poor bird in an attempt at 'death orliberty, ' met with the former. 

Bang went the piece, and as soon as the curling smoke was dissipated, they sought for their prize, but in vain; the piece was discharged soclose to the lark, that it was blown to atoms, and the feathers strewedthe pavement. 

"Bolt!" cried the freedom-giving youth, "or we shall have to pay for thelark. "

"Very likely, " replied the other, who had just picked up a few feathers, and a portion of the dissipated 'lark, '--"for look, if here ain'tthe--bill, never trust me. "

SCENE III. 

"You shall have the paper directly, Sir, but really the debates are sovery interesting. "

"Oh! pray don't hurry, Sir, it's only the scientific notices I careabout. "

What a thrill of pleasure pervades the philanthropic breast on beholdingthe rapid march of Intellect! The lamp-lighter, but an insignificant'link' in the vast chain of society, has now a chance of shining at theMechanics', and may probably be the means of illuminating a whole parish. 

Literature has become the favourite pursuit of all classes, and thepostman is probably the only man who leaves letters for the vulgarpursuit of lucre! Even the vanity of servant-maids has undergone achange--they now study 'Cocker' and neglect their 'figures. '

But the dustman may be said, 'par excellence, ' to bear--the bell!

In the retired nook of an obscure coffee-shop may frequently be observeda pair of these interesting individuals sipping their mocha, newspaper inhand, as fixed upon a column--as the statue of Napoleon in the PlaceVendome, and watching the progress of the parliamentary bills, with asmuch interest as the farmer does the crows in his corn-field!

They talk of 'Peel, ' and 'Hume, ' and 'Stanley, ' and bandy about theirnames as familiarly as if they were their particular acquaintances. 

"What a dust the Irish Member kicked up in the House last night, " remarksone. 

"His speech was a heap o' rubbish, " replied the other. 

"And I've no doubt was all contracted for! For my part I was once aReformer--but Rads and Whigs is so low, that I've turned Conservative. "

"And so am I, for my Sal says as how it's so genteel!"

"Them other chaps after all on'y wants to throw dust in our eyes! Butit's no go, they're no better than a parcel o' thimble riggers justmaking the pea come under what thimble they like, --and it's 'there itis, ' and 'there it ain't, '--just as they please--making black white, andwhite black, just as suits 'em--but the liberty of the press--"

"What's the liberty of the press?"

"Why calling people what thinks different from 'em all sorts o'names--arn't that a liberty?"

"Ay, to be sure!--but it's time to cut--so down with the dust--and let'sbolt!"

SCENE IV. 

"Oh! Sally, I told my missus vot you said your missus said abouther. "--"Oh! and so did I, Betty; I told my missus vot you said yourn saidof her, and ve had sich a row!"

SALLY. OH! Betty, ve had sich a row!--there vas never nothink like it;--I'm quite a martyr. To missus's pranks; for, 'twixt you and me, she's a bit of a tartar. I told her vord for vord everythink as you said, And I thought the poor voman vould ha' gone clean out of her head!

BETTY. Talk o' your missus! she's nothink to mine, --I on'y hope they von't meet, Or I'm conwinced they vill go to pulling of caps in the street:Sich kicking and skrieking there vas, as you never seed, And she vos sohistorical, it made my wery heart bleed. 

SALLY. Dear me! vell, its partic'lar strange people gives themselves sich airs, And troubles themselves so much 'bout other people's affairs; For mypart, I can't guess, if I died this werry minute, Vot's the use o' this fuss--I can't see no reason in it. 

BETTY. Missus says as how she's too orrystocratic to mind wulgar people'stattle, And looks upon some people as little better nor cattle. 

SALLY. And my missus says no vonder, as yourn can sport sich a dress, For vensome people's husbands is vite-vashed, their purses ain't less;This I will say, thof she puts herself in wiolent rages, She's not at all stingy in respect of her sarvant's wages. 

BETTY. 

Ah! you've got the luck of it--for my missus is as mean as she's proud;On'y eight pound a-year, and no tea and sugar allowed. And then there's seven children to do for--two is down with the measles, And t'others, poor things! is half starved, and as thin as weazles;And then missus sells all the kitchen stuff!--(you don't know my trials!)And takes all the money I get at the rag-shop for the vials!

SALLY. Vell! I could'nt stand that!--If I was you, I'd soon give her warning. 

BETTY. She's saved me the trouble, by giving me notice this morning. But--hush!I hear master bawling out for his shaving water--Jist tell your missus from me, mine's everythink as she thought her!

SCENE V. 

"How does it fit behind? O! beautful; I've done wonders--we'll nevertrouble the tailors again, I promise them. "

It is the proud boast of some men that they have 'got a wrinkle. ' Howelated then ought this individual to be who has got so many! and yet, judging from the fretful expression of his physiognomy, one would supposethat he is by no means in 'fit' of good humour. 

His industrious rib, however, appears quite delighted with her handiwork, and in no humour to find the least fault with the loose habits of herhusband. He certainly looks angry, as a man naturally will when his'collar' is up. 

She, on the other hand, preserves her equanimity in spite of hisunexpected frowns, knowing from experience that those who sow do notalways reap; and she has reason to be gratified, for every beholder willagree in her firm opinion, that even that inimitable ninth ofninths--Stulz, never made such a coat!

In point of economy, we must allow some objections may be made to theextravagant waist, while the cuffs she has bestowed on him may probablybe a fair return (with interest) of buffets formerly received. 

The tail (in two parts) is really as amusing as any 'tale' that everemanated from a female hand. There is a moral melancholy about it thatis inexpressibly interesting, like two lovers intended for each other, and that some untoward circumstance has separated; they are 'parted, ' andyet are still 'attached, ' and it is evident that one seems 'too long' forthe other. 

The 'goose' generally finishes the labours of the tailor. Now, somecarping critics may be wicked enough to insinuate that this garb too wasfinished by a goose! The worst fate I can wish to such malignantscoffers is a complete dressing from this worthy dame; and if she doesnot make the wisest of them look ridiculous, then, and not till then, will I abjure my faith in her art of cutting!

And proud ought that man to be of such a wife; for never was mortal'suited' so before!

SCENE VI. 

"Catching--a cold. "

What a type of true philosophy and courage is this Waltonian!

Cool and unmoved he receives the sharp blows of the blustering wind--asif he were playing dummy to an experienced pugilist. 

Although he would undoubtedly prefer the blast with the chill off, he isso warm an enthusiast, in the pursuit of his sport, that he looks withcontempt upon the rude and vulgar sport of the elements. He reallyangles for love--and love alone--and limbs and body are literallytransformed to a series of angles!

Bent and sharp as his own hook, he watches his smooth float in the rough, but finds, alas! that it dances to no tune. 

Time and bait are both lost in the vain attempt: patiently he rebaits, until he finds the rebait brings his box of gentles to a discount; andthen, in no gentle humour, with a baitless hook, and abated ardor, hewinds up his line and his day's amusement(?)--and departs, with thedetermination of trying fortune (who has tried him) on some, future andmore propitious day. Probably, on the next occasion, he may be gratifiedwith the sight of, at least, one gudgeon, should the surface of the riverprove glassy smooth and mirror-like. (We are sure his self-love will notbe offended at the reflection!) and even now he may, with truth, aver, that although he caught nothing, he, at least, took the best perch in theundulating stream!

SCENE VII. 

"Help! help! Oh! you murderous little villin? this is vot you callsrowing, is it?--but if ever I gets safe on land again, I'll make yourepent it, you rascal. I'll row you--that I will. "

"Mister Vaterman, vot's your fare for taking me across?"

"Across, young 'ooman? vy, you looks so good-tempered, I'll pull youover for sixpence?"

"Are them seats clean?"

"O! ker-vite:--I've just swabb'd 'em down. "

"And werry comfortable that'll be! vy, it'll vet my best silk?"

"Vatered silks is all the go. Vel! vell! if you don't like; it, there'smy jacket. There, sit down a-top of it, and let me put my arm roundyou. "

"Fellow!"

"The arm of my jacket I mean; there's no harm in that, you know. "

"Is it quite safe? How the wind blows!"

"Lord! how timorsome you be! vy, the vind never did nothin' else since Iknow'd it. "

"O! O! how it tumbles! dearee me!"

"Sit still! for ve are just now in the current, and if so be you go overhere, it'll play old gooseberry with you, I tell you. "

"Is it werry deep?"

"Deep as a lawyer. "

"O! I really feel all over"--

"And, by Gog, you'll be all over presently--don't lay your hand on myscull. "

"You villin, I never so much as touched your scull. You put me up. "

"I must put you down. I tell you what it is, young 'ooman, if you vantto go on, you must sit still; if you keep moving, you'll stay where youare--that's all! There, by Gosh! we're in for it. " At this point ofthe interesting dialogue, the young 'ooman gave a sudden lurch tolarboard, and turned the boat completely over. The boatman, blowing likea porpoise, soon strode across the upturned bark, and turning round, beheld the drenched "fare" clinging to the stern. 

"O! you partic'lar fool!" exclaimed the waterman. "Ay, hold on a-stern, and the devil take the hindmost, say I!"

SCENE VIII. 

In for it, or Trying the middle. 

A little fat manWith rod, basket, and can, And tackle complete, Selected a seatOn the branch of a wide-spreading tree, That stretch'd over a branch of the Lea:There he silently sat, Watching his float--like a tortoise-shell cat, That hath scented a mouse, In the nook of a room in a plentiful house. But alack!He hadn't sat long--when a crackAt his backMade him turn round and pale--And catch hold of his tail!But oh! 'twas in vainThat he tried to regainThe trunk of the treacherous tree;So heWith a shake of his headDespairingly said--"In for it, --ecod!"And away went his rod, And his best beaver hat, Untiling his roof!But he cared not for that, For it happened to be a superb water proof, Which not being himself, The poor elf!Felt a world of alarmAs the armMost gracefully bow'd to the stream, As if a respect it would show it, Tho' so much below it!No presence of mind he dissembled, But as the branch shook so he trembled, And the case was no longer a riddleOr joke;For the branch snapp'd and broke;And altho'The angler cried "Its no go!"He was presently--'trying the middle. '

SEYMOUR'S SKETCHES

A DAY'S SPORT

"Arena virumque cano. "

CHAPTER I. 

The Invitation--the Outfit--and the sallying forth. 

TO Mr. AUGUSTUS SPRIGGS, AT Mr. WILLIAMS'S, GROCER, ADDLE STREET. 

(Tower Street, 31st August, 18__)

My dear Chum, Dobbs has give me a whole holiday, and it's my intention to take thefield to-morrow--and if so be you can come over your governor, and cutthe apron and sleeves for a day--why

"Together we will range the fields;"

and if we don't have some prime sport, my name's not Dick, that's all. 

I've bought powder and shot, and my cousin which is Shopman to my Uncleat the corner, have lent me a couple of guns that has been 'popp'd. 'Don't mind the expense, for I've shot enough for both. Let me know byJim if you can cut your stick as early as nine, as I mean to have a liftby the Highgate what starts from the Bank. 

Mind, I won't take no refusal--so pitch it strong to the old 'un, andcarry your resolution nem. Con. 

And believe me to be, your old Crony, RICHARD GRUBB. 

P. S. The guns hasn't got them thingummy 'caps, ' but that's no matter, for cousin says them cocks won't always fight: while them as he has lentis reg'lar good--and never misses fire nor fires amiss. 

In reply to this elegant epistle, Mr. Richard Grubb was favoured with aline from Mr. Augustus Spriggs, expressive of his unbounded delight inhaving prevailed upon his governor to 'let him out;' and concluding witha promise of meeting the coach at Moorgate. 

At the appointed hour, Mr. Richard Grubb, 'armed at all points, ' mountedthe stage--his hat cocked knowingly over his right eye--his gunhalf-cocked and slung over his shoulder, and a real penny Cuba in hismouth. 

"A fine mornin' for sport, " remarked Mr. Richard Grubb to hisfellow--passenger, a stout gentleman between fifty and sixty years ofage, with a choleric physiognomy and a fierce-looking pigtail. 

"I dessay--"

"Do you hang out at Highgate?" continued the sportsman. 

"Hang out?"

"Ay, are you a hinhabitant?"

"To be sure I am. "

"Is there any birds thereabouts?"

"Plenty o' geese, " sharply replied the old gentleman. 

"Ha! ha! werry good!--but I means game;--partridges and them sort o'birds. "

"I never see any except what I've brought down. "

"I on'y vish I may bring down all I see, that's all, " chuckled the joyousMr. Grubb. 

"What's the matter?"

"I don't at all like that 'ere gun. "

"Lor! bless you, how timorsome you are, 'tain't loaded. "

"Loaded or not loaded, it's werry unpleasant to ride with that gun o'yours looking into one's ear so. "

"Vell, don't be afeard, I'll twist it over t'other shoulder, --there! buta gun ain't a coach, you know, vich goes off whether it's loaded or not. Hollo! Spriggs! here you are, my boy, lord! how you are figg'dout--didn't know you--jump up!"

"Vere's my instrument o' destruction?" enquired the lively Augustus, whenhe had succeeded in mounting to his seat. 

"Stow'd him in the boot!"

The coachman mounted and drove off; the sportsmen chatting and laughingas they passed through 'merry Islington. '

"Von't ve keep the game alive!" exclaimed Spriggs, slapping his friendupon the back. 

"I dessay you will, " remarked the caustic old boy with the pigtail; "forit's little you'll kill, young gentlemen, and that's my belief!"

"On'y let's put 'em up, and see if we don't knock 'em down, as cleverlyas Mister Robins does his lots, " replied Spriggs, laughing at his ownwit. 

Arrived at Highgate, the old gentleman, with a step-fatherly anxiety, bade them take care of the 'spring-guns' in their perambulations. 

"Thankee, old boy, " said Spriggs, "but we ain't so green as not to knowthat spring guns, like spring radishes, go off long afore Autumn, youknow!"

CHAPTER II. 

The Death of a little Pig, which proves a great Bore!

"Now let's load and prime--and make ready, " said Mr. Richard, when theyhad entered an extensive meadow, "and--I say--vot are you about? Don'tput the shot in afore the powder, you gaby!"

Having charged, they shouldered their pieces and waded through the tallgrass. 

"O! crikey!--there's a heap o' birds, " exclaimed Spriggs, looking up at aflight of alarmed sparrows. "Shall I bring 'em down?"

"I vish you could! I'd have a shot at 'em, " replied Mr. Grubb, "butthey're too high for us, as the alderman said ven they brought him acouple o' partridges vot had been kept overlong!"

"My eye! if there ain't a summat a moving in that 'ere grass yonder--cockyour eye!" "Cock your gun--and be quiet, " said Mr. Grubb. The anxiety ofthe two sportsmen was immense. "It's an hare--depend on't--stoopdown--pint your gun, --and when I say fire--fire! there it is--fire!"

Bang! bang! went the two guns, and a piercing squeak followed the report. 

"Ve've tickled him, " exclaimed Spriggs, as they ran to pick up the spoil. 

"Ve've pickled him, rayther, " cried Grubbs, "for by gosh it's a piggy!"

"Hallo! you chaps, vot are you arter?" inquired a man, popping his headover the intervening hedge. "Vy, I'm blessed if you ain't shot von o'Stubbs's pigs. " And leaping the hedge he took the 'pork' in his arms, while the sportsmen who had used their arms so destructively now took totheir legs for security. But ignorance of the locality led them into themidst of a village, and the stentorian shouts of the pig-bearer soonbringing a multitude at their heels, Mr. Richard Grubb was arrested inhis flight. Seized fast by the collar, in the grasp of the butcher andconstable of the place, all escape was vain. Spriggs kept a respectfuldistance. 

"Now my fine fellow, " cried he, brandishing his staff, "you 'ither paysfor that 'ere pig, or ve'll fix you in the cage. "

Now the said cage not being a bird-cage, Mr. Richard Grubb could see noprospect of sport in it, and therefore fearfully demanded the price ofthe sucking innocent, declaring his readiness to 'shell out. '

Mr. Stubbs, the owner, stepped forward, and valued it at eighteenshillings. 

"Vot! eighteen shillings for that 'ere little pig!" exclaimed theastounded sportsman. "Vy I could buy it in town for seven any day. "

But Mr. Stubbs was obdurate, and declared that he would not 'bate afarden, ' and seeing no remedy, Mr. Richard Grubb was compelled to 'melt asovereign, ' complaining loudly of the difference between country-fed andtown pork!

Shouldering his gun, he joined his companion in arms, amid the jibes andjeers of the grinning rustics. 

"Vell, I'm blowed if that ain't a cooler!" said he. 

"Never mind, ve've made a hit at any rate, " said the consoling Spriggs, "and ve've tried our metal. "

"Yes, it's tried my metal preciously--changed a suv'rin to two bob! byjingo!"

"Let's turn Jews, " said Spriggs, "and make a vow never to touch porkagain!"

"Vot's the use o' that?"

"Vy, we shall save our bacon in future, to be sure, " replied Spriggs, laughing, and Grubb joining in his merriment, they began to look aboutthem, not for fresh pork, but for fresh game. 

"No more shooting in the grass, mind!" said Grubb, "or ve shall have theblades upon us agin for another grunter p'r'aps. Our next haim must beat birds on the ving! No more forking out. Shooting a pig ain't no lark--that's poz!"

CHAPTER III. 

The Sportsmen trespass on an Enclosure--Grubb gets on a paling and runs arisk of being impaled. 

"Twig them trees?"--said Grubb. 

"Prime!" exclaimed Spriggs, "and vith their leaves ve'll have an huntthere. --Don't you hear the birds a crying 'sveet, ' 'sveet?' Thof allbirds belong to the Temperance Society by natur', everybody knows asthey're partic'larly fond of a little s'rub!"

"Think ve could leap the ditch?" said Mr. Richard, regarding with alonging look the tall trees and the thick underwood. 

"Lauk! I'll over it in a jiffy, " replied the elastic Mr. Spriggs thereain't no obelisk a sportsman can't overcome"--and no sooner had heuttered these encouraging words, than he made a spring, and came'close-legged' upon the opposite bank; unfortunately, however, he losthis balance, and fell plump upon a huge stinging nettle, which would havebeen a treat to any donkey in the kingdom!

"Oh!--cuss the thing!" shrieked Mr. Spriggs, losing his equanimity withhis equilibrium. 

"Don't be in a passion, Spriggs, " said Grubb, laughing. 

"Me in a passion?--I'm not in a passion--I'm on'y--on'y--nettled!"replied he, recovering his legs and his good humour. Mr. Grubb, takingwarning by his friend's slip, cautiously looked out for a narrower partof the ditch, and executed the saltatory transit with all the agility ofa poodle. 

They soon penetrated the thicket, and a bird hopped so near them, thatthey could not avoid hitting it. --Grubb fired, and Sprigg's gun echoedthe report. 

"Ve've done him!" cried Spriggs. 

"Ve!--me, if you please. "

"Vell--no matter, " replied his chum, "you shot a bird, and I shottoo!--Vot's that?--my heye, I hear a voice a hollering like winkin;--bolt!"

Away scampered Spriggs, and off ran Grubb, never stopping till he reacheda high paling, which, hastily climbing, he found himself literally upontenter-hooks. 

"There's a man a coming, old fellow, " said an urchin, grinning. 

"A man coming! vich vay? do tell me vich vay?" supplicated the sportsman. The little rogue, however, only stuck his thumb against his snubnose--winked, and ran off. 

But Mr. Grubb was not long held in suspense; a volley of inelegantphrases saluted his ears, while the thong of a hunting-whip twistedplayfully about his leg. Finding the play unequal, he wisely gave up thegame--by dropping his bird on one side, and himself on the other; at thesame time reluctantly leaving a portion of his nether garment behind him. 

"Here you are!" cried his affectionate friend, --picking him up--"ain'tyou cotch'd it finely?"

"Ain't I, that's all?" said the almost breathless Mr. Grubb, "I'm almostdead. "

"Dead!--nonsense--to be sure, you may say as how you're off the hooks!and precious glad you ought to be. "

"Gracious me! Spriggs, don't joke; it might ha' bin werry serious, " saidMr. Grubb, with a most melancholy shake of the head:--"Do let's get outo' this wile place. "

"Vy, vat the dickins!" exclaimed Spriggs, "you ain't sewed up yet, areyou?"

"No, " replied Grubb, forcing a smile in spite of himself, "I vish I vos, Spriggs; for I 've got a terrible rent here!" delicately indicating theposition of the fracture. 

And hereupon the two friends resolving to make no further attempt atbush-ranging, made as precipitate a retreat as the tangled nature of thepreserve permitted. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Shooting a Bird, and putting Shot into a Calf!

"On'y think ven ve thought o' getting into a preserve--that ve got into apickle, " said Sprigg, still chuckling over their last adventure. 

"Hush!" cried Grubb, laying his hand upon his arm--"see that bird hoppingthere?"

"Ve'll soon make him hop the twig, and no mistake, " remarked Spriggs. 

"There he goes into the 'edge to get his dinner, I s'pose. "

"Looking for a 'edge-stake, I dare say, " said the facetious Spriggs. 

"Now for it!" cried Grubb! "pitch into him!" and drawing his trigger heaccidentally knocked off the bird, while Spriggs discharged the contentsof his gun through the hedge. 

"Hit summat at last!" exclaimed the delighted Grubb, scampering towardsthe thorny barrier, and clambering up, he peeped into an adjoininggarden. 

"Will you have the goodness to hand me that little bird I've just shotoff your 'edge, " said he to a gardener, who was leaning on his spade andholding his right leg in his hand. 

"You fool, " cried the horticulturist, "you've done a precious job--You'veshot me right in the leg--O dear! O dear! how it pains!"

"I'm werry sorry--take the bird for your pains, " replied Grubb, andapprehending another pig in a poke, he bobbed down and retreated as fastas his legs could carry him. 

"Vot's frightened you?" demanded Spriggs, trotting off beside his chum, "You ain't done nothing, have you?"

"On'y shot a man, that's all. "

"The devil!"

"It's true--and there'll be the devil to pay if ve're cotched, I can tellyou--'Vy the gardener vill swear as it's a reg'lar plant!--and therevon't be no damages at all, if so be he says he can't do no work, and isobleeged to keep his bed--so mizzle!" With the imaginary noises of a hotpursuit at their heels, they leaped hedge, ditch, and style withoutdaring to cast a look behind them--and it was not until they had put twogood miles of cultivated land between them and the spot of theirunfortunate exploit that they ventured to wheel about and breathe again. 

"Vell, if this 'ere ain't a rum go!"--said Spriggs--"in four shots--ve'vekilled a pig--knocked the life out o' one dicky-bird--and put a wholecharge into a calf. Vy, if ve go on at this rate we shall certainly betaken up and get a setting down in the twinkling of a bed-post!"

"See if I haim at any think agin but vot's sitting on a rail or a post"--said Mr. Richard--"or s'pose Spriggs you goes on von side of an 'edgeand me on t'other--and ve'll get the game between us--and then--"

"Thankye for me, Dick, " interrupted Spriggs, "but that'll be a sort o'cross-fire that I sha'n't relish no how. --Vy it'll be just for all theworld like fighting a jewel--on'y ve shall exchange shots--p'r'apsvithout any manner o' satisfaction to 'ither on' us. No--no--let's shootbeside von another--for if ve're beside ourselves ve may commit suicide. "

"My vig!" cries Mr. Grubb, "there's a covey on 'em. "

"Vere?"

"There!"

"Charge 'em, my lad. "

"Stop! fust charge our pieces. "

Having performed this preliminary act, the sportsmen crouched in a dryditch and crawled stealthily along in order to approach the temptingcovey as near as possible. 

Up flew the birds, and with trembling hands they simultaneously touchedthe triggers. 

"Ve've nicked some on 'em. "

"Dead as nits, " said Spriggs. 

"Don't be in an hurry now, " said the cautious Mr. Grubb, "ve don't knowfor certain yet, vot ve hav'n't hit. "

"It can't be nothin' but a balloon then, " replied Spriggs, "for ve on'yfired in the hair I'll take my 'davy. "

Turning to the right and the left and observing nothing, they boldlyadvanced in order to appropriate the spoil. 

"Here's feathers at any rate, " said Spriggs, "ve've blown him to shivers, by jingo!"

"And here's a bird! hooray!" cried the delighted Grubb--"and look'ee, here's another--two whole 'uns--and all them remnants going for nothingas the linen-drapers has it!"

"Vot are they, Dick?" inquired Spriggs, whose ornithological knowledgewas limited to domestic poultry; "sich voppers ain't robins or sparrers, I take it. "

"Vy!" said the dubious Mr. Richard-resting on his gun and throwing oneleg negligently over the other--"I do think they're plovers, or larks, orsummat of that kind. "

"Vot's in a name; the thing ve call a duck by any other name vould heatas vell!" declaimed Spriggs, parodying the immortal Shakspeare. 

"Talking o' heating, Spriggs--I'm rayther peckish--my stomick's bina-crying cupboard for a hour past. --Let's look hout for a hinn!"

CHAPTER V. 

An extraordinary Occurrence--a Publican taking Orders. 

Tying the legs of the birds together with a piece of string, Spriggsproudly carried them along, dangling at his fingers' ends. 

After tramping for a long mile, the friends at length discovered, whatthey termed, an house of "hentertainment. "

Entering a parlour, with a clean, sanded floor, (prettily herring-boned, as the housemaids technically phrase it, ) furnished with red curtains, half a dozen beech chairs, three cast-iron spittoons, and a beer-bleachedmahogany table, --Spriggs tugged at the bell. The host, with a rotund, smiling face, his nose, like Bardolph's, blazing with fiery meteors, anda short, white apron, concealing his unmentionables, quickly answered thetintinabulary summons. 

"Landlord, " said Spriggs, who had seated himself in a chair, while Mr. Richard was adjusting his starched collar at the window;--"Landlord! veshould like to have this 'ere game dressed. "

The Landlord eyed the 'game' through his spectacles, and smiled. 

"Roasted, or biled, Sir?" demanded he. 

"Biled?--no:--roasted, to be sure!" replied Spriggs, amazed at hispretended obtuseness: "and, I say, landlord, you can let us have plentyo' nice wedgetables. "

"Greens?" said the host;--but whether alluding to the verdant characterof his guests, or merely making a polite inquiry as to the article theydesired, it was impossible, from his tone and manner, to divine. 

"Greens!" echoed Spriggs, indignantly; "no:--peas and 'taters. "

"Directly, Sir, " replied the landlord; and taking charge of the twoleetle birds, he departed, to prepare them for the table. 

"Vot a rum cove that 'ere is, " said Grubb. 

"Double stout, eh?" said Spriggs, and then they both fell to a-laughing;and certain it is, that, although the artist has only given us a draughtof the landlord, he was a subject sufficient for a butt!

"Vell! I must, say, " said Grubb, stretching his weary legs under themahogany, "I never did spend sich a pleasant day afore--never!"

"Nor I, " chimed in Spriggs, "and many a day ven I'm a chopping up the'lump' shall I think on it. It's ralely bin a hout and houter! Lauk!how Suke vill open her heyes, to be sure, ven I inform her how ve've binout with two real guns, and kill'd our own dinner. I'm bless'd if she'llswallow it!"

"I must say ve have seen a little life, " said Grubb. 

"And death too, " added Spriggs. "Vitness the pig!"

"Now don't!" remonstrated Grubb, who was rather sore upon this part ofthe morning's adventures. 

"And the gardener, "--persisted Spriggs. 

"Hush for goodness sake!" said Mr. Richard, very seriously, "for if that'ere affair gets vind, ve shall be blown, and--"

--In came the dinner. The display was admirable and very abundant, andthe keen air, added to the unusual exercise of the morning, had given theyoung gentlemen a most voracious appetite. 

The birds were particularly sweet, but afforded little more than amouthful to each. 

The 'wedgetables, ' however, with a due proportion of fine old Cheshire, and bread at discretion, filled up the gaps. It was only marvellouswhere two such slender striplings could find room to stow away such analarming quantity. 

How calm and pleasant was the 'dozy feel' that followed upon mastication, as they opened their chests (and, if there ever was a necessity for suchan action, it was upon this occasion, ) and lolling back in their chairs, sipped the 'genuine malt and hops, ' and picked their teeth!

The talkative Spriggs became taciturn. His gallantry, however, didprompt him, upon the production of a 'fresh pot, ' to say, "Vell, Grubbs, my boy, here's the gals!"

"The gals!" languidly echoed Mr. Richard, tossing off his tumbler, with amost appropriate smack. 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Reckoning. 

"Pull the bell, Spriggs, " said Mr. Richard, "and let's have the bill. "

Mr. Augustus Spriggs obeyed, and the landlord appeared. 

"Vot's to pay?"

"Send you the bill directly, gentlemen, " replied the landlord, bowing, and trundling out of the room. 

The cook presently entered, and laying the bill at Mr. Grubb's elbow, took off the remnants of the 'game, ' and left the sportsmen to discussthe little account. 

"My eye! if this ain't a rum un!" exclaimed Grubb, casting his dilatingoculars over the slip. 

"Vy, vot's the damage?" enquired Spriggs. 

"Ten and fourpence. "

"Ten and fourpence!--never!" cried his incredulous companion. "Vot ahimposition. "

"Vell!" said Mr. Grubb, with a bitter emphasis, "if this is finding ourown wittles, we'll dine at the hor'nary next time"--

"Let's have a squint at it, " said Mr. Spriggs, reaching across the table;but all his squinting made the bill no less, and he laid it down with asigh. "It is coming it rayther strong, to be sure, " continued he; "but Idare say it's all our happearance has as done it. He takes us for peopleo' consequence, and"--

"Vot consequence is that to us?" said Grubbs, doggedly. 

"Vell, never mind, Dick, it's on'y vonce a-year, as the grotto-boyssays--"

"It need'nt to be; or I'll be shot if he mightn't vistle for the brads. Howsomever, there's a hole in another suv'rin. "

"Ve shall get through it the sooner, " replied the consoling Spriggs. "Isee, Grubb, there aint a bit of the Frenchman about you"--

"Vy, pray?"

"Cos, you know, they're fond o' changing their suv'rins, and--you aint!"

The pleasant humour of Spriggs soon infected Grubb, and he resolved to bejolly, and keep up the fun, in spite of the exorbitant charge for thevegetable addenda to their supply of game. 

"Come, don't look at the bill no more, " advised Spriggs, "but treat it asold Villiams does his servants ven they displeases him. "

"How's that?"

"Vy, discharge it, to be sure, " replied he. 

This sage advice being promptly followed, the sportsmen, shoulderingtheir guns, departed in quest of amusement. They had not, however, proceeded far on their way, before a heavy shower compelled them to takeshelter under a hedge. 

"Werry pleasant!" remarked Spriggs. 

"Keep your powder dry, " said Grubb. 

"Leave me alone, " replied Spriggs; "and I think as we'd better pop ourguns under our coat-tails too, for these ere cocks aint vater-cocks, youknow! Vell, I never seed sich a rain. I'm bless'd if it vont drive allthe dickey-birds to their nestes. "

"I vish I'd brought a numberella, " said Grubbs. 

"Lank! vot a pretty fellow you are for a sportsman!" said Spriggs, "itdon't damp my hardour in the least. All veathers comes alike to me, asthe butcher said ven he vos a slaughtering the sheep!"

Mr. Richard Grubb, here joined in the laugh of his good-humoured friend, whose unwearied tongue kept him in spirits--rather mixed indeed thanneat--for the rain now poured down in a perfect torrent. 

"I say, Dick, " said Spriggs, "vy are ve two like razors?"

"Cos ve're good-tempered?"

"Werry good; but that aint it exactly--cos ve're two bright blades, vothas got a beautiful edge!"

"A hexcellent conundrum, " exclaimed Grubb. "Vere do you get 'em?'

"All made out of my own head, --as the boy said ven be showed the woodentop-spoon to his father!"

CHAPTER VII. 

A sudden Explosion--a hit by one of the Sportsmen, which the other takesamiss. 

A blustering wind arose, and like a burly coachman on mounting his box, took up the rain!

The two crouching friends taking advantage of the cessation in the storm, prepared to start. But in straightening the acute angles of their legsand arms, Mr. Sprigg's piece, by some entanglement in his protectinggarb, went off, and the barrel striking Mr. Grubb upon the os nasi, stretched him bawling on the humid turf. 

"O! Lord! I'm shot. "

"O! my heye!" exclaimed the trembling Spriggs. 

"O! my nose!" roared Grubb. 

"Here's a go!"

"It's no go!--I'm a dead man!" blubbered Mr. Richard. Mr. AugustusSpriggs now raised his chum upon his legs, and was certainly ratheralarmed at the sanguinary effusion. 

"Vere's your hankercher?--here!--take mine, --that's it--there!--let'slook at it. "

"Can you see it?" said Grubb, mournfully twisting about his face mostludicrously, and trying at the same time to level his optics towards thedamaged gnomon. 

"Yes!"

"I can't feel it, " said Grubb; "it's numbed like dead. "

"My gun vent off quite by haccident, and if your nose is spoilt, can'tyou have a vax von?--Come, it ain't so bad!"

"A vax von, indeed!--who vouldn't rather have his own nose than all thevax vons in the vorld?" replied poor Richard. "I shall never be able toshow my face. "

"Vy not?--your face ain't touched, it's on'y your nose!"

"See, if I come out agin in an hurry, " continued the wounded sportsman. "I've paid precious dear for a day's fun. The birds vill die a nat'raldeath for me, I can tell you. "

"It vos a terrible blow--certainly, " said Spriggs; "but these thingsvill happen in the best riggle'ated families!"

"How can that be? there's no piece, in no quiet and respectable familiesas I ever seed!"

And with this very paradoxical dictum, Mr. Grubb trudged on, leadinghimself by the nose; Spriggs exerting all his eloquence to make him thinklightly of what Grubb considered such a heavy affliction; for after all, although he had received a terrible contusion, there were no bonesbroken: of which Spriggs assured his friend and himself with a great dealof feeling!

Luckily the shades of evening concealed them from the too scrutinizingobservation of the passengers they encountered on their return, for suchaccidents generally excite more ridicule than commiseration. 

Spriggs having volunteered his services, saw Grubb safe home to his doorin Tower Street, and placing the two guns in his hands, bade him acordial farewell, promising to call and see after his nose on the morrow. 

The following parody of a customary paragraph in the papers will beconsidered, we think, a most fitting conclusion to their day's sport. 

"In consequence of a letter addressed to Mr. Augustus Spriggs, by Mr. Richard Grubb, the parties met early yesterday morning, but after firingseveral shots, we are sorry to state that they parted without coming toany satisfactory conclusion. "

SCENE IX. 

"Shoot away, Bill! never mind the old woman--she can't get over the wallto us. "

One day two urchins gotA pistol, powder, horn, and shot, And proudly forth they wentOn sport intent. "Oh, Tom! if we should shoot a hare, "Cried one, The elder son, "How father, sure, would stare!"Look there! what's that?""Why, as I live, a cat, "Cried Bill, "'tis mother Tibbs' tabby;Oh! what a larkShe loves it like a babby!And ain't a cat's eye, Tom, as good a markAs any bull's eyes?"And straight "Puss! puss!" he cries, When, lo! as Puss approaches, They hear a squall, And see a head and fist above the wall. 'Tis tabby's mistressWho in great distressLoads both the urchins with her loud reproaches, "You little villains! will ye shoot my cat?Here, Tink! Tink! Tink!O! lor' a' mercy! I shall surely sink, Tink! Tink!"Tink hears her voice--and hearing that, Trots nearer with a pit-a-pat!"Now, Bill, present and fire, There's a bold 'un, And send the tabby to the old 'un. "Bang! went the pistol, and in the mireRolled Tink without a mew--Flop! fell his mistress in a stew!While Bill and Tom both fled, Leaving the accomplish'd Tink quite finish'd, For Bill had actually diminish'dThe feline favorite by a head!Leaving his undone mistress to bewail, In deepest woe, And to her gossips to relateHer tabby's fate. This was her only consolation--for altho'She could not tell the head--she could the tail!

SCENE X. 

SEPTEMBER 1ST, --AN ONLY OPPORTUNITY. 

"I begin to think I may as well go back. "

MY vig! vat a pelter this is--Enough all my hardour to tame;In veather like this there's no sport, It's too much in earnest for game!

A ladle, I might as well be, Chain'd fast to a hold parish pump, For, by goles! it comes tumbling down, Like vinking, --and all of a lump. 

The birds to their nestes is gone, I can't see no woodcock, nor snipe;My dog he looks dogged and dull, My leggins is flabby as tripe!

The moors is all slipp'ry slush, I'm up to the neck in the mire;I don't see no chance of a shot, And I long-how I long for a fire!

For my clothes is all soak'd, and they stickAs close as a bailiff to meOh! I wish I was out o' this here, And at home with my mother at tea!

This is the fust, as I've gotPermission from uncle to shoot;He hadn't no peace till he giveThis piece, and the powder to boot!

And vat's it all come to at last?--There isn't no chance of a hit, I feel the rain's all down my back, In my mouth though I hav'n't a bit!

O! it's werry wezaatious indeed!For I shan't have another day soon;But I'm blow'd, if I don't have a pop--My eye! I've shot Dash! vot a spoon!

O! here's a partic'lar mess, Vot vill mother say to me now?For he vas her lap-dog and pet, Oh! I've slaughtered her darling bow-wow!

SCENE XI. 

"Mother says fishes comes from hard roes, so I chuck'd in the roe of ared-herring last week, but I doesn't catch any fish yet. "

How beautiful is the simplicity of unsophisticated youth! Behold withwhat patience this innocent awaits a bite, trusting with perfect faith inthe truth of his affectionate mother's ichthyological knowledge. Wishingto behold a live fish dangling at the end of his line, he has, withadmirable foresight, drawn up the bucket, that in the ascent the finnyprey may not kick it! It must be a hard roe indeed, that is not softenedby his attentions; but, alas! he is doomed never to draw up a vulgarherring, or a well-bred fish!

Folks who are a little deeper read than the boy--(or the herring!)--maysmile at his fruitless attempt, but how many are there that act throughlife upon the same principle, casting their lines and fishingfor--compliments, who never obtain even a nibble--for why? their attemptsat applause, like his red-herring, are smoked. He does not know thatherrings are salt-water fish--and, in fact, that the well-water is notthe roes--water!

But after all, is not such ignorance bliss?--for he enjoys theanticipated pleasure; and if anticipation be really greater than reality--what an interminable length will that pleasure be to him! Ever andanon he draws up his line, like a militia captain for a review;--putsfresh bait on the crooked pin, and lets it slowly down, and peeps in, wondering what the fish can be at!--and is quite as much in the dark ashis float. But he may at last, perhaps, discover that he is not so deepas a well--and wisely resolve to let well--alone; two points which mayprobably be of infinite importance to him through life, and enable him toturn the laugh against those who now mock his ignorance and simplicity. 

SCENE XII. 

Ambition. 

"He was ambitious, and I slew him. "

What carried Captain Ross to the North Pole? "A ship to be sure!"exclaims some matter-of-fact gentleman. Reader! It was AMBITION!

What made barber Ross survey the poll, make wigs, and puff away even whenpowder was exploded? What caused him to seek the applause of the 'nobs'among the cockneys, and struggle to obtain the paradoxical triplicatedictum that he was a werry first-rate cutter!' What made him a practicalTory? (for he boasts of turning out the best wigs in the country!)

What induces men to turn theatrical managers when a beggarly account ofempty boxes nightly proves the Drama is at a discount--all benefitsvisionary, and the price of admission is regarded as a tax, and theperformers as ex-actors?----when they get scarcely enough to pay forlights, and yet burn their fingers?--AMBITION!

The candidate for the county cringes, and flatters the greasy unwashedten-pounders, in order to get at the head of the poll--so likewise thebumpkin (in imitation of his superior) rubs his hand in the dirt toenable him to cling fast, and reach the top of the soap'd poll, whereonthe tempting prize is displayed. And, what prompts them both to thecontest?--AMBITION!

What is the 'primum mobile, ' of the adventurous Aeronaut, Mr. Green, oneof the most rising men of the day, who aspires even unto the very clouds, and in his elevation looks upon all men of woman born as far beneathhim?--AMBITION!

What prompts the soldier who spends half-a-crown out of sixpence a-day tothrust his head into the cannon's mouth, to convince the world that he isdesirous of obtaining a good report and that he is fearless of thecharge?--AMBITION!

What makes the beardless school-boy leap ditches and over posts at therisk of his neck, and boast that he'll do another's dags'--or thesporting man turn good horses into filthy dog's meat, in riding so manymiles in so many minutes?--AMBITION!

What magic influence operates upon the senses of the barrister (a scholarand a gentleman) to exert his winning eloquence and ingenuity in thecause of a client, who, in his conscience, he knows to be both morallyand legally unworthy of the luminous defence put forth to prove thetrembling culprit more sinned against than sinning?--AMBITION!

What urges the vulgar costermonger to bestride his long-ear'd Arabian, and belabor his panting sides with merciless stick and iron-shod heels toimpel him to the goal in the mimic race--or the sleek and polish'dcourtier to lick the dust of his superiors' feet to obtain a paltryriband or a star?--AMBITION!

SCENE XIII. 

Better luck next time. 

The lamentation of Joe Grishin. 

"O! Molly! Molly! ven I popp'd my chops through the arey railings, andseed you smile, I thought you vos mine for ever! I wentur'd all for you--all--. It war'n't no great stake p'r'aps, but it was a tender vun! Ioffer'd you a heart verbally, and you said 'No!' I writ this erewollentine, and you returns it vith a big 'No!'

"O! Molly your 'No's, ' is more piercinger and crueller than your heyes. Me! to be used so:--Me! as refused the vidder at the Coal Shed! (to besure she wore a vig and I didn't vant a bald rib!) Me!--but it's o' nouse talking; von may as vell make love to a lamp-post, and expect to feedvon's flame vith lights! But adoo to life; this 'ere rope, fix'd roundthe 'best end o' the neck' will soon scrap me, and ven I'm as dead asmutton, p'r'aps you may be werry sorry. 

"It'll be too late then, Molly, ven you've led me to the halter, to vishas you'd married me. "

After this bitter burst of wounded feeling, and, urged by the rejectionof his addresses, the love-lorn Butcher mounted a joint-stool, andstepping on a fence, twisted the awful rope round the branch of a tree, and then, coiling it about his neck, determined that this day should be akilling day; vainly supposing, in the disordered state of his mind, thatthe flinty-hearted Molly would probably esteem her 'dear' (like venison)the better for being hung! Mystically muttering 'adoo!' three times, inthe most pathetic tone, he swung off and in an instant came to his latterend--for the rope snapp'd in twain, and he found himself seated on theturf below, when he vainly imagined he was preparing himself for beingplaced below the turf!

"Nothin' but disappointments in this world;" exclaimed he, really feelinghurt by the unexpected fall, for he had grazed his calves in the meadow, and was wofully vexed at finding himself a lover 'turned off' and yet'unhung. '

Cast down and melancholy, he retraced his steps, and seizing a cleaver(dreadful weapon!) vented his suicidal humour in chopping, with malignantfury, at his own block!

SCENE XIV. 

Don't you be saucy, Boys

"What are you grinning at, boys?" angrily demanded an old gentlemanseated beside a meandering stream, of two schoolboys, who were watchinghim from behind a high paling at his rear. --"Don't you know a littlemakes fools laugh. "

"Yes, sir! that's quite true, for we were laughing at what you'vecaught!"

"Umph! I tell you what, my lads, if I knew your master, I'd pull you up, and have you well dressed. "

"Tell that to the fishes, " replied the elder, "when you do get a bite!"

"You saucy jackanapes! how dare you speak to me in this manner?"

"Pray, sir, are you lord of the manor? I'm sure you spoke to us first, "said the younger. 

"More than that, " continued his companion. "We are above speaking toyou, for you are beneath us!"

The old gentleman, rather nettled at the glibness of the lads, stuck ahook vengefully into an inoffensive worm, and threw his line. 

The boys still retained their post, and after many whispered remarks andtittering, the younger thrust his handkerchief into his mouth to smothera burst of irrepressible laughter, while the other, assuming a modest andpenitent air, said:

"I beg your pardon, sir. "

"What?" demanded the old gentleman sharply. 

"Hope you are not offended, sir?"

"Get along with you, " replied the unfortunate angler, irritated at hiswant of success. 

"I can tell you something, sir, " continued the lad;--"there's no fish tobe had where you are. I know the river well. Father's very fond o'fish; he always brings home plenty. If you like, sir, I can show you theplace. "

Here his companion rolled upon the grass and kicked, perfectly convulsedwith laughter, luckily hidden from the view of the now mollified oldgentleman. 

"Indeed!" cried the angler: "is it far from this?"

"Not a quarter of a mile, " replied the boy. 

"That is nothing. I've walked eighteen this morning, " said the oldgentleman, packing up his apparatus. "I'll go with you directly, andthank you too, for I'm a perfect stranger in these parts. "

When he had joined them, the laughing fits of the younger had subsided, although he chose to fall in the rear. "Now, to shew you how much moreprofitable it is to respect than to mock at your superiors in years, there's a (let me see)--there's a halfpenny for you to purchase cakes. "

"Thank ye, sir, " said he, and turning to his companion with a wink: "HereBill, run to Cummins' and buy a ha'p'orth of eights--we'll make the mostof it--and I'll come to you as soon as I've shown the gentleman thefish. "

"Show me the place, and I'll find the fish, " said the anticipatingangler. 

On they trudged. 

"Must we go through the town?" asked his companion, as he marched withhis long rod in one hand and his can in the other. 

"Yes, sir, it ain't far;" and he walked on at a quicker pace, while allthe crowd of rustics gazed at t e extraordinary appearance of the armedWaltonian, for it happened to be market-day. After parading him in thisfashion nearly through the town, he presently twitched him by hiscoat-sleeve. 

"Look there, sir!" cried he, pointing to a well-stocked fishmonger's. 

"Beautiful!--what a quantity!" exclaimed the venerable piscator. 

"I thought you'd like it, sir--that's the place for fish, sir, --goodmorning. "

"Eh! what--you young dog?"

"That's where father gets all his, I assure you, sir, --good morning, "said the youth, and making a mock reverence, bounded off as fast as hislegs could carry him. 

SCENE XV. 

"Vy, Sarah, you're drunk! I am quite ashamed o' you. "

"Vell, vots the odds as long as you're happy!"

Jack was an itinerant vender of greens, and his spouse was a peripateticdistributor of the finny tribe, (sprats, herrings or mackerel, accordingto the season, ) and both picked up a tolerable livelihood by theirrespective callings. 

Like the lettuces he sold, Jack had a good heart, and his attention wasfirst attracted to the subsequent object of his election by the wit of apassing boy, who asked the damsel how she sold her carrots? Jack's eyeswere in an instant turned towards one whom he considered a competitor inthe trade--when he beheld the physiognomy of his Sarah beaming withsmiles beneath an abundant crop of sunny hair!

"You are a beauty and no mistake, " exclaimed the green grocer inadmiration. 

"Flummery!" replied the damsel--the deep blush of modesty mantling hercheeks. Jack rested his basket on a post beside her stall, and drankdeep draughts of love, while Sarah's delicate fingers were skilfullyemployed in undressing a pound of wriggling eels for a customer. 

"Them's rig'lar voppers!" remarked Jack. 

"Three to a pound, " answered Sarah, and so they slipped naturally intodiscourse upon trade, its prospects and profits, and gradually a hint ofpartnership was thrown out. 

Sarah laughed at his insinuating address, and displayed a set of teeththat rivalled crimped skate in their whiteness--a month afterwards theybecame man and wife. For some years they toiled on together--he, like acaterpillar, getting a living out of cabbages, and she, like anundertaker, out of departed soles! Latterly, however, Jack discoveredthat his spouse was rather addicted to 'summut short, ' in fact, that shedrank like a fish, although the beverage she affected was a leetlestronger than water. Their profit (unlike Mahomet) permitted them thesame baneful indulgence--and kept them both in spirits!

Their trade, however, fell off for they were often unable to carry theirbaskets. 

The last time we beheld them, Sarah was sitting in the cooling current ofa gutter, with her heels upon the curb (alas! how much did she need acurb!) while Jack, having disposed of his basket, had obtained a post ina public situation, was holding forth on the impropriety of her conduct. 

"How can you let yourself down so?" said he, --"You're drunk--drunk, Sarah, drunk!"

"On'y a little elevated, Jack. "

"Elevated!--floor'd you mean. "

"Vell; vot's the odds as long as you're happy?"

Jack finding all remonstrance was vain, brought himself up, and reelingforward, went as straight home--as he could, leaving his spouse (likemany a deserted wife) soaking her clay, because he refused to supporther!

SCENE XVI. 

"Lawk a'-mercy! I'm going wrong! and got to walk all that way backagain. "

A pedestrian may get robbed of his money on the highway, but a cross-roadfrequently robs him of time and patience; for when haply he considershimself at his journey's end, an impertinent finger-post, offering himthe tardy and unpleasant information that he has wandered from his track, makes him turn about and wheel about, like Jim Crow, in anything but apleasant humor. 

It were well if every wayfarer were like the sailor, who when offered aquid from the 'bacoo box of a smoker, said, 'I never chews theshort-cut!' and in the same spirit, we strongly advise him, before hetakes the short-cut to think of the returns!

Should the weather prove rainy, the hungry traveller may certainly get awet on the road, although he starves before he reaches the wished-forinn. 

As there is likewise no more chance of meeting a good tempered guide on across-road, than of finding eggs and bacon, in an edible state, at leaston a common--and as he can no more pull in the summer-rains than he canthe reins of a runaway stallion; the result is, the inexperienced youthludicrously represents so many pounds of 'dripping, ' and although he maybe thirsty, he will have no cause to complain that he is--dry! The bestmode for an honest man to go round the country, is to take astraight-forward course, especially when the surcharged clouds do rulethe horizon with sloping lines of rain! Besides, it is by no means apleasant thing for a man with a scanty wardrobe, to find his clothesrunning away at a most unpleasant rate, while he can scarcely drag oneclay-encumbered leg after the other. 

It is a difficult trial, too, of a man's philosophy, after trudging overa long field, to be encountered by the mockery of a 'ha! ha!'--fence! Heutters a few bitter expletives, perhaps, but nought avails his railingagainst such a fence as that!

The shower which makes all nature smile, only causes him to laugh--on thewrong side of his mouth, for he regards it as a temperance man does aregular soaker!

Reader! never attempt a bye-way on a wet day, with a stick and bundle atyour back--(if you have a waterproof trunk, you may indeed weatherit)--but go a-head on the turnpike road--the way of all mails--leavinglong and short commons to the goose and donkey--and the probability is, that you may not only I make a sign before you die, but get a feed--and ashelter. 

SCENE XVII. 

"I'm dem'd if I can ever hit 'em. "

It is a most extraordinary thing, 'pon my veracity: I go out as regularlyas the year, and yet I never bring down an individual bird. 

I have one of the best Mantons going with such a bore! and then I use thebest shot--but not being the best shot in the world myself--I suppose isthe identical reason why I never hit any thing. I think it must arisefrom a natural defect in my sight; for when I suppose a covey as near--asmy miser of an uncle--they are probably as distant--as my ninety-ninthcousin!

Such a rum go!--the other day I had a troop of fellows at my heels, laughing like mad; and what do you think?--when I doffed my shootingjacket, I found some wag had stuck the top of a printed placard on myback, with the horrid words, "A young Gentleman missing!"

It was only last week, a whole flight of sparrows rose at my very feet--Ifired--bang!--no go!--but I heard a squall; and elevating my glass, lo! Ibeheld a cottage within a few yards of my muzzle--the vulgar peasant tookthe trouble to leap his fence, and inform me I had broken his windows--ofcourse I was compelled to pay him for his panes. 

To be sure he did rather indicate a disposition to take away mygun--which I certainly should never have relinquished without astruggle--and so I forked out the dibs, in order to keep the piece! I'mquite positive, however, that the vagabond over-charged me, and I kicked, as was quite natural, you know, under such circumstances!

I really have an imperfect notion of disposing of my shooting-tackle--butI'm such an unfortunate devil, that I really believe when I post 'em upfor sale--my gun will not go off!--dem me!

SCENE XVIII. 

"Have you read the leader in this paper, Mr. Brisket?"

"No! I never touch a newspaper; they are all so werry wenal, and Ovoid ofsentiment!"

BOB. O! here's a harticle agin the fools, Vich our poor British Nation so misrules:And don't they show 'em up with all their tricks--By gosh! I think they'd better cut their sticks;They never can surwive such cuts as these is!

BRISKET. It's werry well; but me it never pleases;I never reads the news, and sees no meritIn anythink as breathes a party sperrit. 

BOB. Ain't you a hinglishman? and yet not feelA hint'rest, Brisket, in the common-weal?

BRISKET. The common-weal be--anything for me, --There ain't no sentiment as I can seeIn all the stuff these sons of--Britain prate--They talk too much and do too little for the state. 

BOB. O! Brisket, I'm afeard as you're a 'Rad?'

BRISKET. No, honour bright! for sin' I was a ladI've stuck thro' thick and thin to Peel, orVellinton--for Tories is genteeler;But I'm no politician. No! I readThese 'Tales of Love' vich tells of hearts as bleed, And moonlight meetins in the field and grove, And cross-grain'd pa's and wictims of true love;Wirgins in white a-leaping out o' winders--Vot some old codger cotches, and so hinders--From j'ining her true-love to tie the knot, Who broken-hearted dies upon the spot!

BOB. That's werry fine!--but give me politics--There's summat stirring even in the tricksOf them vot's in to keep the t'others out, --How I Should like to hear the fellers spout!For some on 'em have sich a lot o' cheek, If they war'n't stopp'd they'd go it for a week. 

BRISKET. But they're so wulgar, Bob, and call sich namesAs quite the tag-rag of St. Giles' shamesThe press too is so wenal, that they thinkAll party herrors for the sake o' chink. 

BOB. But ain't there no false lovers in them tales, Vot hover wirgin hinnocence perwails?

BRISKET. Vy, yes, but in the end the right one's married, And after much to do the point is carriedSo give me love sincere and tender, And all the rest's not worth a bender. 

SCENE XIX. 

AN EPISTLE

FROM

SAMUEL SOFTLY, ESQ. TO HIS FRIEND, RICHARD GUBBINS, ESQ. OF TOOLEYSTREET. 

O! DICK!

Such a misfortin' has you never heard on as come upon your friend. I'lljist give you a breef houtline of the circumstantials as near as myflurry vill let me. T'other mornin' I vips up my gun for to goa-shootin', and packin' up my hammunition, and some sanwidges, I bidsadoo to this wile smoky town, vith the intention of gettin' a littlehair. Vell! on I goes a-visshin' and thinkin' on nothin', and happy asthe bumblebees as vos a-numming around me. Vell! a'ter an hour or more'svalking, not an house nor a brick vos wisible. 

Natur', in all her werdur', vos smilin' like a fat babby in its maternalharms! But, as somebody has it--

"Man never ain't, but al'ays to be bless'd, "

and I'm bless'd if that ain't true too, as you shall see presently. Vell!I pops at von bird and then at another; but vether the poor creturs vosunaccustom'd to guns, and so vos frighten'd, I don't know, but somehow Icouldn't hit 'em no-how. 

Vell! and so I vos jist a-chargin' agin ven a great he-fellow, in a ruffcoat and partic'lar large viskers, accostes me (ciwilly I must say, butrayther familler)--

"Birds shy?" says he. 

"Werry;--ain't hit nothin', " says I. 

"I'll tell you vot it is, young gentleman, " says he, "it's the unevennesso' the ground!"

"D've think so?" says I. 

"Sure on it, " says he; "I'm a hold sojer! Know this 'ere place, and havepicked up many a good dinner in it. Look at them fe'l'fares yonder, "says he, "on'y let me have a slap at 'em for you, and see if I don'tfinish some on 'em in the twinkling of a pig's visper. "

In course I felt obleeged by sich a hoffer, and hands him the gun. Vell!I vos a-follerin' him quite pleased, ven he visks round, and puttin' themuzzle o' the hinstrument fist agin my vescoat, says he, "Now you've lentus your gun, you may as vell lend us your votch. I can't shoot any thinkfor you till I sees vot's o'clock!"

Here vas a go!--but I see vot vas a clock in a hinstant--and no mistake. So I cotch'd hold on the two butiful chased seals and tugs it out. 

"That's the time o' day!" says he, a-cockin' his hugly heye at the dial;"and now, " says he, "as you seems frightened at the gun, I shall jist putit out o' harm's way. "

And with that he chucks it splash, into a duck-pond, and hoff marches myhold sojer in a jiffy! I vos putrified! and fell to a-blubberin' like ahinfant. 

O! Dick, vot's to be done?

You know I ham, at any rate, Yours truly, S. SOFTLY. 

SCENE XX. 

The Courtship of Mr. Wiggins. 

Among the very few fashionable foibles to which Mr. Wiggins was addicted, was the smoking of cigars. Attracted by the appearance of a small boxmarked 'Marylands--one penny each, ' very much resembling lettuce-leaveswith the yellow jaundice, he walked into the chandler's shop where theywere displayed. 

"Let us look at them cigars, " said he, and then, for the first time, glancing at the smart, good-looking mistress of the emporium, he added, "if you please, ma'am--"

"Certain'y, sir. "

A pretty little fist that, howsomever! thought Wiggins, as she placed thebox before him. 

"Vill you have a light?"

"Thank'ye, ma'am, " said he, ramming the cigar into his mouth, as if hereally intended to bolt it. 

She twisted a slip of waste, and lighting it, presented it to heradmiring customer, for it was evident, from the rapt manner in which hescanned her, that he was deeply smitten by her personal appearance. 

She colored, coughed delicately, as the smoke tickled the tonsils of herthroat, and looked full at the youth. Such a look! as Wiggins asserted. "I'm afeared as the smoke is disagreeable, " said he. 

"Oh! dear no, not at all, I assure you; I likes it of all things. I can'tabide a pipe no-how, but I've quite a prevalence (predilection?) forsiggers. " So Wiggins puffed and chatted away; and at last, delightedwith the sprightly conversation of the lady, seated himself on thesmall-beer barrel, and so far forgot his economy in the fascination ofhis entertainer, that he purchased a second. At this favourablejuncture, Mrs. Warner, (for she was a widow acknowledgingfive-and-twenty) ordered the grinning shop-boy, who was chopping the'lump, ' to take home them 'ere dips to a customer who lived at somedistance. Wiggins, not aware of the 'ruse, ' felt pleased with theabsence of one who was certainly 'de trop' in the engrossing'tete-a-tete. ' We will pass over this preliminary conversation; for awhole week the same scene was renewed, and at last Mrs. Warner and Mr. Wiggins used to shake hands at parting. 

"Do you hever go out?" said Wiggns. 

"Sildom-werry sildom, " replied the widow. 

"Vos you never at the Vite Cundic, or the hEagle, or any of them placeson a Sunday?"

"How can I go, " replied the widow, sighing, "vithout a purtector?"

Hereupon the enamoured Wiggins said, "How happy he should be, " etc. , andthe widow said, "She was sure for her part, " etc. And so the affair wassettled. On the following Sunday the gallant Mr. Wiggins figged out, inhis best, escorted the delighted and delightful Mrs. Warner to that placeof fashionable resort, the White Conduit, and did the thing sohandsomely, that the lady was quite charmed. Seated in one of the snugarbors of that suburban establishment, she poured out the hot tea, andthe swain the most burning vows of attachment. "Mr. Viggins, do you takesugar?" demanded the fair widow. "Yes, my haingel, " answered he, emphatically. "I loves all wot's sweet, " and then he gave her such atender squeeze! "Done--do--you naughty man!" cried she, tapping him onthe knuckles with the plated sugar-tongs, and then cast down her eyeswith such a roguish modesty, that he repeated the operation for the sakeof that ravishing expression. Pointing his knife at a pat of butter, hepoetically exclaimed, "My heart is jist like that--and you have made ahimpression on it as time will never put out!" "I did'nt think as youwere quite so soft neither, " said the widow. "I ham, " replied thesuitor--"and there, " continued he, cutting a hot roll, and introducingthe pat, "I melts as easily afore the glance of your beautiful heyes!"Resolved to carry on the campaign with spirit, he called for two glassesof brandy and water, stiff, and three cigars! And now, becomingsentimental and communicative, he declared, with his hand upon his heart, that "hif there vos a single thing in life as would make him completelyhappy, it vos a vife!"

SCENE XXI. 

The Courtship of Mr. Wiggins. 

Mr. Wiggins was so intoxicated with love, brandy-and-water and cigars, that he scarcely knew how he reached home. He only remembered that hewas very dizzy, and that his charming widow--his guide and friend--hadremonstrated with him upon the elevation of his style, and theirregularity of his progression. 

With his head in his hand, and a strong "dish of tea" without milk, before him, he was composing himself for business the following morning, when an unexpected visitor was announced. 

"Please, sir, there's Mrs. Warner's 's boy as wants to speak vith you, "said his landlady. 

"Show him up, " languidly replied our lover, throwing his aching head fromhis right to his left hand. 

"Vell, Jim, vot's the matter!" demanded he--"How's your missus?"

"She ain't no missus o' mine no longer, " replied Jim. 

"How?"

"I tell you vot it is, sir, she promised to give me a shillin'-aweek an'my feed; an' she ain't done vun thing nor t' other; for I'm bless'd if Iain't starved, and ain't seen the color of her money sin' I bin there. Father's goin' to summon her. "

"It's some mistake, sure?"

"It's no mistake tho', " persisted Jim, "an' I can tell you she ain't gota farden to bless herself vith!--an' she's over head-and-ears in debttoo, I can tell you; an' she pays nobody--puttin' 'em all off, vithpromises to pay wen she's married. "

"My heye!" exclaimed the excited Wiggins, thrown all a-back by this veryagreeable intention upon his funds. 

"More nor that, sir, " continued the revengeful Jim, "I know she thinks asshe's hooked a preshus flat, an' means to marry you outright jist for votshe can get. An' von't she scatter the dibs?--that's all; she's theextravagantest 'ooman as hever I came anigh to. "

"But, (dear me! ) she has a good stock--?"

"Dummies, sir, all dummies. "

"Dummies?"

"Yes, sir; the sugars on the shelves is all dummies--wooden 'uns, done upin paper! The herrin' tub is on'y got a few at top--the rest's allshavins an' waste. --There's plenty o' salt to be sure--but the werrysoap-box is all made up. "

"And so's my mind!" emphatically exclaimed the deluded Wiggins, slappingthe breakfast-table with his clenched fist. 

"Jim--Jim--you're a honest lad, and there's half-a-crown for you--"

"Thank'ye for me, sir, " said the errand-boy, grinning with delight--"and--and you'll cut the missus, Sir!"

"For ever!--"

"Hooray! I said as how I'd have my rewenge!" cried the lad, and pullingthe front of his straight hair, as an apology for a bow, he retreatedfrom the room. 

"What an escape!" soliloquized Wiggins-- "Should n't I ha' bin properlyhampered? that's all. No more insinniwating widows for me!--"

And so ended the Courtship of Mr. Wiggins. 

SCENE XXII. 

The Itinerant Musician. 

A wandering son of Apollo, with a shocking bad hat, encircled by amelancholy piece of rusty crape, and arrayed in garments that had onceshone with renovated splendour in that mart of second-hand habiliments'ycleped Monmouth-street, was affrighting the echoes of a fashionablestreet by blowing upon an old clarionet, and doing the 'Follow, hark!' ofWeber the most palpable injustice. 

The red hand of the greasy cook tapped at the kitchen-window below, andshe scolded inaudibly--but he still continued to amuse--himself, asregardless of the cook's scolding as of the area-railing against which heleaned, tuning his discordant lay. 

His strain indeed appeared endless, and he still persevered in torturingthe ambient air with, apparently, as little prospect of blowing himselfout as an asthmatic man would possibly have of extinguishing a smoky linkwith a wheeze--or a hungry cadger without a penny!

The master of the mansion was suffering under a touch of the gout, accompanied by a gnawing tooth-ache!--The horrid noise without made histrembling nerves jangle like the loose strings of an untuned guitar. 

A furious tug at the bell brought down the silken rope and brought up anorbicular footman. 

"William"

"Yes, sir. "

"D--- that, etc. ! and send him to, etc. !"

"Yes, sir. "

And away glided the liveried rotundity. --

Appearing at the street-door, the musician took his instrument from hislips, and, approaching the steps, touched his sorry beaver with the sideof his left hand. 

"There's three-pence for you, " said the menial, "and master wishes you'dmove on. "

"Threepence, indeed!" mumbled the man. "I never moves on under sixpence:d'ye think I doesn't know the walley o' peace and quietness?"

"Fellow!" cried the irate footman, with a pompous air--"Master desires asyou'll go on. "

"Werry well"--replied the other, touching his hat, while the domesticwaddled back, and closed the door, pluming himself upon having settledthe musician; but he had no sooner vanished, than the strain was taken upagain more uproariously than ever. 

Out he rushed again in a twinkling--

"Fellow! I say--man! vot do you mean?"

"Vy, now didn't you tell me to go on?"

"I mean't go off. "

"Then vy don't you speak plain hinglish, " said the clarionist; "but, Isay, lug out t'other browns, or I shall say vot the flute said ven hismaster said as how he'd play a tune on him. "

"Vot vos that?"

"Vy, he'd be blow'd if he would!"

"You're a owdacious fellow. "

"Tip!" was the laconic answer, accompanied by an expressive twiddling ofthe fingers. 

"Vell, there then, " answered the footman, reluctantly giving him theprice of his silence. 

"Thank'ye, " said the musician, "and in time to come, old fellow, never donothin' by halves--'cept it's a calve's head!"

SCENE XXIII. 

Oh! lor, here's a norrid thing. '

The Confessions of a Sportsman. 

"Vell, for three year, as sure as the Septembers comes, I takes thefield, but somehow or another I never takes nothin' else! My gun's agood 'un and no mistake!--Percussions and the best Dartford, and all thattoo. My haim ain't amiss neither; so there's a fault somewhere, that'scertain. The first time as I hentered on the inwigorating and manlysport, I valks my werry legs off, and sees nothin' but crows and that'ere sort o' small game. 

"I vos so aggrawated, that at last I lets fly at 'em in werry spite, jistas they vos a sendin' of their bills into an orse for a dinner. 

"Bang! goes the piece;--caw! caw! goes the birds; and I dessay I did forsome on 'em, but I don't know, for somehow I vos in sich a preshus hurryto bag my game, that I jumps clean over vun bank, and by goles! plumpinto a ditch on t'other side, up to my werry neck!

"The mud stuck to me like vax; and findin' it all over vith me, and nochance o' breaking a cover o' this sort, I dawdled about 'till dusk, andvos werry glad to crawl home and jump into bed. I vos so 'put out' thatI stayed at home the rest o' that season. 

"The second year come, and my hardor vos agin inflamed. 'Cotch mea-shootin' at crows, ' says I. --Vell, avay I goes a-vhistling to myself, ven presently I see a solentary bird on the wing; 'a pariwidge, byjingo!' says I--I cocks--presents, and hits it! Hooray! down it tumbles, and afore I could load and prime agin, a whole lot o' 'em comes out fromamong the trees. 'Here's luck' says I; and jist shouldered my piece, venI gets sich a vop behind as sent me at full length. 

"'Vot's that for?' says I. 

"'Vot are you a shootin' at my pigeons for?' says a great hulking, farmering-looking fellow. 

"A hexplanation follered; and in course I paid the damage, vich stood mea matter of a suv'rin, for he said he'd take his davy as how it vos awaluable tumbler!--I never sees a 'go' o' rum and vater but vot I thinkson it. This vos a sickener. 

"The third year I vos hout agin as fresh as a daisy, ven I made a haim ata sparrer, or a lark, or summit o' that kind--hit it, in course, and voson the p'int o' going for'ard, ven lo! on turning my wision atop o' thebank afore me, I seed a norrid thing!--a serpent, or a rattle-snake, orsomethink a-curling itself up and a hissing like fun!

"I trembled like a haspen-leaf, and-didn't I bolt as fast as my werrylegs would carry me, that's all?

"Since that time I may say, with the chap in the stage-play, that myparent has kept myself, his only son, at home, for I see no sport in sichrigs, and perfer a little peace at home to the best gun in the field!"--

THE JOLLY ANGLERS. 

On a grassy bank, beside a meandering stream, sat two gentlemen averagingforty years of age. The day was sultry, and, weary of casting theirlines without effect, they had stuck their rods in the bank, and sought, in a well-filled basket of provisions and copious libations of bottledporter, to dissipate their disappointment. 

"Ain't this jolly? and don't you like a day's fishing, Sam?"

"O! werry much, werry much, " emphatically replied his friend, taking hispipe from his mouth. 

"Ah! but some people don't know how to go a-fishinq, Sam; they are suchfools. "

"That's a werry good remark o' your'n, " observed Sam; "I daresay as howhangling is werry delightful vhen the fishes vill bite; but vhen theyvon't, vhy they von't, and vot's the use o' complaining. Hangling isjust like writing: for instance--you begins vith, 'I sends you this 'ereline hoping, ' and they don't nibble; vell! that's just the same as nothanswering; and, as I takes it, there the correspondence ends!"

"Exactly; I'm quite o' your opinion, " replied his companion, tossing offa bumper of Barclay's best; "I say, Sammy, we mustn't empty t'otherbottle tho'. "

"Vhy not?"

"Cos, do you see, I'm just thinking ve shall vant a little porter tocarry us home: for, by Jingo! I don't think as how either of us cantoddle--that is respectably!"

"Nonsense! I'd hundertake to walk as straight as a harrow; on'y, I mustconfess, I should like to have a snooze a'ter my pipe; I'm used to it, d'ye see, and look for it as nat'rally as a babby does. "

"Vell, but take t'other glass for a nightcap; for you know, Sammy, if yousleep vithout, you may catch cold: and, vhatever you do, don't snore, oryou'll frighten the fish. "

"Naughty fish!" replied Sammy, "they know they're naughty too, or elsethey voud'nt be so afear'd o' the rod!--here's your health;" and hetossed off the proffered bumper. 

"Excuse me a-rising to return thanks, " replied his friend, graspingSammy's hand, and looking at him with that fixed and glassy gaze whichindicates the happy state of inebriety, termed maudlin; "I know you're asincere friend, and there ain't nobody as I value more: man and boy haveI knowed you; you're unchanged! you're the same!! there ain't nodifference!!! and I hope you may live many years to go a-fishing, and Imay live to see it, Sammy. Yes, old boy, this here's one of them daysthat won't be forgotten: it's engraved on my memory deep as the words ona tombstone, 'Here he lies! Here he lies!'" he repeated with a hiccup, and rolled at full length across his dear friend. 

Sammy, nearly as much overcome as his friend, lifted up his head, andsticking his hat upon it, knocked it over his eyes, and left him torepose; and, placing his own back against an accommodating tree, hedropped his pipe, and then followed the example of his companion. 

After a few hours deep slumber, they awoke. The sun had gone down, andevening had already drawn her star-bespangled mantle over the scene oftheir festive sport. 

Arousing themselves, they sought for their rods, and the remnants oftheir provisions, but they were all gone. 

"My hey! Sammy, if somebody bas'nt taken advantage of us. My watch toohas gone, I declare. "

"And so's mine!" exclaimed Sammy, feeling his empty fob. "Vell, if thisain't a go, never trust me. "

"I tell you vot it is, Sammy; some clever hartist or another has seen ussleeping, like the babes in the wood, and has drawn us at full length!"

THE BILL-STICKER. 

What a mysterious being is the bill-sticker! How seldom does he makehimself visible to the eyes of the people. Nay, I verily believe thereare thousands in this great metropolis that never saw a specimen. We seethe effect, but think not of the cause. 

He must work at his vocation either at night or at early dawn, before theworld is stirring. 

That he is an industrious being, and sticks to business, there cannot bethe shadow of a doubt, for every dead-wall is made lively by hisoperations, and every hoard a fund of information--in such type, too, that he who runs may read. What an indefatigable observer he must be;for there is scarcely a brick or board in city or suburb, however newlyerected, in highway or byeway, but is speedily adorned by his handiwork--aye, and frequently too in defiance of the threatening--"BILL-STICKERS, BEWARE!"--staring him in the face. Like nature, he appears to abhor avacuum. When we behold the gigantic size of some of the modern arches, we are almost led to suppose that the bill-sticker carries about hisplacards in a four-wheeled waggon, and that his paste-pot is a hugecauldron! How he contrives to paste and stick such an enormous sheet soneatly against the rugged side of a house, is really astonishing. Whetherthree or four stories high, the same precision is remarkable. We cannotbut wonder at the dexterity of his practised hand: The union is asperfect as if Dan Hymen, the saffron-robed Joiner, had personallysuperintended the performance. 

The wind is perhaps the only real enemy he has to fear. How his heartand his flimsy paper must flutter in the unruly gusts of a March wind! Weonly imagine him pasting up a "Sale of Horses, " in a retired nook, andseeing his bill carried away on an eddy!

We once had the good fortune to witness a gusty freak of this kind. Thebill-sticker had affixed a bill upon the hooks of his stick, displayingin prominent large characters--"SALE BY AUCTION--Mr. GEO. ROBINS--CapitalInvestment, "--and so forth, when a sudden whirlwind took the bill off thehooks, before it was stuck, and fairly enveloped the countenance of adandy gentleman who happened at the moment to be turning the corner. 

Such a "Capital Investment" was certainly ludicrous in the extreme. 

The poor bill-sticker was rather alarmed, for he had never stuck a billbefore on any front that was occupied. 

He peeled the gentleman as quickly as possible, and stammered out anapology. The sufferer, however, swore he would prefer a bill against himat the ensuing sessions. Whether his threat was carried into execution, or he was satisfied with the damages already received, we know not. 

OLD FOOZLE. 

There is a certain period of life beyond which the plastic mind of manbecomes incapable of acquiring any new impressions. He merely elaboratesand displays the stores he has garnered up in his youth. There areindeed some rare exceptions to the rule; but few, very few, can learn alanguage after the age of forty. 'Tis true that Cowper did not commencethe composition of his delightful poems till he had attained that age;but then it must be remembered that he had previously passed a life ofstudy and preparation, and that he merely gave the honey to the worldwhich he had hived in his youth, bringing to the task a mind polished andmatured by judgment and experience. But, generally speaking, we ratherexpect reason than rhyme from an elderly gentleman; and when the reverseis the case, the pursuit fits them as ridiculously as would a humming-topor a hoop. Yet there are many who, having passed a life in the soleoccupation of making money--the most unpoetical of all avocations--thatin their retirement entertain themselves with such fantastic pranks andantics, as only serve to amuse the lookers-on. A retired tradesman, itis true, may chase ennui and the 'taedium vitae, ' by digging and plantingin his kitchen-garden, or try his hand at rearing tulips and hyacinths;but if he vainly attempt any other art, or dabble in light literature orheavy philosophy, he is lost. Old Foozle was one of those who, havingaccumulated wealth, retire with their housekeepers to spend the remnantof their days in some suburban retreat, the monotony of whose life isvaried by monthly trips to town to bring tea and grocery, or purchasesome infallible remedy for their own gout, or their housekeeper'srheumatism. Unfortunately for his peace, Old Foozle accidentally dippedinto a tattered tome of "Walton's Complete Angler;" and the vividdescription of piscatorial pleasures therein set forth so won upon hismind, that he forthwith resolved to taste them. In vain were theremonstrances of his nurse, friend, and factotum. The experiment must betried. Having more money than wit to spare, he presently suppliedhimself with reels and rods and tackle, landing-nets and gentle-boxes, and all the other necessary paraphernalia of the art. 

Donning his best wig and spectacles, he sallied forth, defended from theweather by a short Spencer buttoned round his loins, and a pair ofdouble-soled shoes and short gaiters. So eager was he to commence, thathe no sooner espied a piece of water, than, with trembling hands, he puthis rod together, and displayed his nets, laying his basket, gaping forthe finny prey, on the margin of the placid waters. With eager gaze hewatched his newly-varnished and many-coloured float, expectingevery-moment to behold it sink, the inviting bait being prepared'secundum artem. ' He had certainly time for reflection, for his floathad been cast at least an hour, and still remained stationary; from whichhe wisely augured that he was most certainly neither fishing in a runningstream nor in troubled waters. 

Presently a ragged urchin came sauntering along, and very leisurelyseated himself upon a bank near the devoted angler. Curiosity is naturalto youth, thought Foozle--how I shall make the lad wonder when I pull outa wriggling fish!

But still another weary hour passed, and the old gentleman's arms andloins began to ache from the novel and constrained posture in which hestood. He grew nervous and uneasy at the want of sport; and thinkingthat perhaps the little fellow was acquainted with the locality, heturned towards him, saying, in the blandest but still most indifferenttone he could assume, lest he should compromise his dignity by exposinghis ignorance--

"I say, Jack, are there any fish in this pond?"

"There may be, sir, " replied the boy, pulling his ragged forelock mostdeferentially, for Old Foozle had an awful churchwarden-like appearance;"there may be, but I should think they were weary small, 'cause there vosno vater in this here pond afore that there rain yesterday. "

The sallow cheeks of the old angler were tinged with a ruddy glow, calledup by the consciousness of his ridiculous position. Taking a penny fromhis pocket, he bade the boy go buy some cakes: and no sooner had hegallopped off, than the disappointed Waltonian hastily packed up histackle, and turned his steps homeward; and this was the first and lastessay of Old Foozle. 

THE "CRACK-SHOTS. " No. I. 

A club, under the imposing style of the "Crack-Shots, " met everyWednesday evening, during the season, at a house of public entertainmentin the salubrious suburbs of London, known by the classical sign of the"Magpye and Stump. " Besides a trim garden and a small close-shavengrass-plat in the rear (where elderly gentlemen found a cure for 'taediumvitae' and the rheumatism in a social game of bowls), there was a meadowof about five or six acres, wherein a target was erected for the especialbenefit of the members of this celebrated club; we say celebrated, because, of all clubs that ever made a noise in the world, this bore awaythe palm-according to the reports in the neighbourhood. Emulationnaturally caused excitement, and the extraordinary deeds they performedunder its influence we should never have credited, had we not receivedthe veracious testimony of--the members themselves. 

After the trials of skill, they generally spent the evenings together. 

Jack Saggers was the hero of the party; or perhaps he might be moreappropriately termed the "great gun, " and was invariably voted to thechair. He made speeches, which went off admirably; and he perpetratedpuns which, like his Joe Manton, never missed fire, being unanimouslyvoted admirable hits by the joyous assembly. 

Their pleasures and their conversation might truly be said to be of apiece. 

"Gentlemen"--said Jack, one evening rising upon his legs--"Do me thefavour to charge. Are you all primed and loaded? I am about to proposethe health of a gentleman, who is not only an honour to society at large, but to the 'Crack-Shots' in particular. Gentlemen, the mere mention ofthe name of Brother Sniggs--(hear! hear!)--I know will call forth avolley!--(Hear! hear!) Gentlemen, I give you the health of BrotherSniggs! make ready, present and fire!"

Up went the glasses, and down went the liquor in a trice, followed bythree times three, Jack Saggers giving the time, and acting as"fugle-man. "

Sniggs, nervously fingering his tumbler of "half and half, " as if hewanted the spirit to begin, hemmed audibly, and

"Having three times shook his headTo stir his wit, thus he said, "

"Gentlemen, I don't know how it is, but somehows the more a man has tosay, the more he can't! I feel, for all the world, like a gun rammedtight and loaded to the muzzle, but without flint or priming----"

"Prime!" exclaimed Jack Saggers; and there was a general titter, and thenhe continued; "as we cannot let you off Sniggs, you most go on, youknow. "

"Gentlemen, " resumed Sniggs, "I feel indeed so overloaded by the honorsyou have conferred on me, that I cannot find words to express mygratitude. I can only thank you, and express my sincere wish that yourshots may always tell. "

And he sat down amidst unbounded applause. "By no means a-miss!" criedJack Saggers. 

"A joke of mine, when I knocked down a bird the other morning, " saidSniggs: "you must know I was out early, and had just brought down mybird, when leaping into the adjoining field to pick it up, abird-catcher, who had spread his nets on the dewy grass, walked right upto me. "

"I've a visper for you, Sir, " says he, as cool as a cucumber; "I don'tvish to be imperlite, but next time you shoots a bird vot I've brought tomy call, I'll shoot you into a clay-pit, that's all!"

"And pray what did you say, Sniggs?" asked Jack Saggers. "Say?--nothing!but I looked unutterable things, and--shouldering my piece--walked off!"

THE "CRACK-SHOTS. " No. II. 

"Sniggs's rencontre with the bird-catcher reminds me of Tom Swivel'smeeting with the Doctor, " observed Smart. 

"Make a report, " cried Jack Saggers. 

"Well, you must know, that I had lent him my piece for a day's shooting;and just as he was sauntering along by a dead wall near Hampstead, looking both ways at once for a quarry (for he has a particular squint), a stout gentleman in respectable black, and topped by a shovel-hat, happened to be coming in the opposite direction. With an expression ofterror, the old gentleman drew himself up against the unyielding bricks, and authoritatively extending his walking-stick, addressed our sportsmanin an angry tone, saying: 'How dare you carry a loaded gun pointed atpeople's viscera, you booby?' Now Tom is a booby, and no mistake, and sodropping his under jaw and staring at the reverend, he answered: 'I don'tknow vot you mean by a wiserar. I never shot a wiserar!'"

"Devilish good!" exclaimed Saggers; and, as a matter of course, everybodylaughed. 

Passing about the bottle, the club now became hilarious and noisy; whenthe hammer of the president rapped them to order, and knocked down Sniggsfor a song, who, after humming over the tune to himself, struck up thefollowing:

CHAUNT

When the snow's on the ground and the trees are all bare, And rivers and gutters are turned into ice, The sportsman goes forth to shoot rabbit or hare, And gives them a taste of his skill in a trice. Bang! bang! goes his Joe, And the bird's fall like snow, And he bags all he kills in a trice. 

CHORUS. Bang! bang! goes his Joe, And the bird's fall like snow, And he bags all he kills in a trice. 

II. If he puts up a partridge or pheasant or duck, He marks him, and wings him, and brings him to earth;He let's nothing fly--but his piece--and good luckHis bag fills with game and his bosom with mirth. 

Bang! bang! goes his Joe, And the bird's fall like snow, And good sport fills his bosom with mirth. 

CHORUS. Bang! bang! et. Etc. 

III. When at night he unbends and encounters his pals, How delighted he boasts of the sport he has had;While a kind of round game's on the board, and galsAre toasted in bumpers by every lad. And Jack, Jim, and JoeGive the maid chaste as snowThat is true as a shot to her lad!

CHORUS. And Jack, Jim and JoeGive the maid chaste as snowThat is true as a shot to her lad!

The customary applause having followed this vocal attempt of Sniggs, hewas asked for a toast or a sentiment. 

"Here's--'May the charitable man never know the want of--'shot. '" saidSniggs. 

"Excellent!" exclaimed Saggers, approvingly; "By Jupiter Tonans, Sniggs, you're a true son of--a gun!"

THE "CRACK-SHOTS. "--No. III. 

"Sich a lark!" said Bill Sorrel, breaking abruptly in upon the noisychorus, miscalled a general conversation; "sich a lark!"

"Where?" demanded Saggers. 

"You've jist hit it, " replied Sorrel, "for it vere worry near 'Vare vhereit happened. I'd gone hout hearly, you know, and had jist cotched sightof a bird a-vistling on a twig, and puttered the vords, 'I'll spile yoursingin', my tight 'un, ' and levelled of my gun, ven a helderly gentleman, on t'other side of the bank vich vos atween me and the bird, pops up hispowdered noddle in a jiffy, and goggling at me vith all his eyes, bawlspout in a tantivy of a fright, 'You need'nt be afear'd, sir, ' says I, 'Iaint a-haiming at you, ' and vith that I pulls my trigger-bang! Vell, Ilost my dicky! and ven I looks for the old 'un, by Jingo! I'd lost himtoo. So I mounts the bank vere he sot, but he vas'nt there; so I looksabout, and hobserves a dry ditch at the foot, and cocking my eye alongit, vhy, I'm blessed, if I did'nt see the old fellow a-scampering alongas fast as his legs could carry him. Did'nt I laugh, ready tosplit--that's all!"

"I tell you what, Sorrel, " said the president, with mock gravity, "Iconsider the whole affair, however ridiculous, most immoral andreprehensible. What, shall a crack-shot make a target of an elder?Never! Let us seek more appropriate butts for our barrels! You mayperhaps look upon the whole as a piece of pleasantry but let me tell youthat you ran a narrow chance of being indicted for a breach of the peace!And remember, that even shooting a deer may not prove so dear a shot asbringing down an old buck!"

This humorous reproof was applauded by a "bravo!" from the whole club. 

Sorrel sang--small, and Sniggs sang another sporting ditty. 

"Our next meeting, " resumed Saggers, "is on Thursday next when thepigeon-match takes place for a silver-cup--the 'Crack Shots' against the'Oriental Club. ' I think we shall give them I taste of our quality, 'although we do not intend that they shall lick us. The silver-cup istheir own proposal. The contest being a pigeon-match, I humbly proposed, as an amendment, that the prize should be a tumbler--which I lost by aminority of three. In returning thanks, I took occasion to allude totheir rejection of my proposition, and ironically thanked them for havingcut my tumbler. "

"Werry good!" shouted Sorrel. 

"Admirable!" exclaimed Sniggs; and, rising with due solemnity, heproposed the health of the "worthy president, " prefacing his speech withthe modest avowal of his inability to do what he still persisted in doingand did. 

"Brother Shots!" said Saggers, after the usual honours had been dulyperformed, "I am so unaccustomed to speaking (a laugh), that I rise witha feeling of timidity to thank you for the distinguished honour you haveconferred on me. Praise, like wine, elevates a man, but it likewisethickens and obstructs his speech; therefore, without attempting anyrhetorical flourish, I will simply say, I sincerely thank you all for thevery handsome manner in which you have responded to the friendly wishesof Brother Sniggs; and, now as the hour of midnight is at hand, I bid youfarewell. It is indeed difficult to part from such good company; but, although it is morally impossible there ever can be a division among suchcordial friends, both drunk and sober may at least separate--in spirits, --and I trust we shall all meet again in health--Farewell!"

DOCTOR SPRAGGS. 

Old Doctor Spraggs! famed Doctor Spraggs!Was both well fee'd and fed, And, tho' no soldier, Doctor SpraggsHad for his country-bled. 

His patients living far and wideHe was compell'd to buyA horse; and found no trouble, forHe'd got one in his eye!

He was a tall and bony steedAnd warranted to trot, And so he bought the trotter, andOf course four trotters got. 

Quoth he: "In sunshine quick he bounds"Across the verdant plain, "And, e'en when showers fall, he proves"He--doesn't mind the rain!"

But, oh! one morn, when Doctor SpraggsWas trotting on his way, A field of sportsmen came in view, And made his courser neigh. 

"Nay! you may neigh, " quoth Doctor Spraggs, "But run not, I declare"I did not come to chase the fox, "I came to take the--air!"

But all in vain he tugg'd the rein, The steed would not be stay'd;The "Doctor's stuff" was shaken, andA tune the vials play'd. 

For in his pockets he had stow'dSome physic for the sick;Anon, "crack" went the bottles all, And forma a "mixture" quick. 

His hat and wig flew off, but stillThe reins he hugg'd and haul'd;And, tho' no cry the huntsmen heard, They saw the Doctor--bald!

They loudly laugh'd and cheer'd him on, While Spraggs, quite out of breath, Still gallopp'd on against his will, And came in at the death. 

To see the Doctor riding thusTo sportsmen was a treat, And loudly they applauded him--(Tho' mounted) on his feat!

MORAL. Ye Doctors bold, of this proud landOf liberty and--fogs, No hunters ride, or you will goLike poor Spraggs--to the dogs!

SCENE IX. (b)

"Well, Bill, d'ye get any bites over there?" "No, but I'm afeard I shall, soon have one. "

Two youths, by favour of their sponsors, bearing the aristocratic namesof William and Joseph, started early one morning duly equipped, onpiscatorial sport intent. They trudged gaily forward towards aneighbouring river, looking right and left, and around them, as sharp astwo crows that have scented afar off the carcase of a defunct nag. 

At length they arrived at a lofty wall, on the wrong side of which, musically meandered the stream they sought. After a deliberateconsultation, the valiant William resolved to scale the impediment, andcast the line. Joseph prudently remained on the other side ready tocatch the fish--his companion should throw to him! Presently anexclamation of "Oh! my!" attracted his attention. 

"Have you got a bite?" eagerly demanded Joe. 

"No! by gosh! but I think I shall soon!" cried Bill. Hereupon theexpectant Joseph mounted, and seating himself upon the wall, beheld tohis horror, Master Bill keeping a fierce bull-dog at bay with the buttend of his fishing-rod. 

"Go it, Bill!" exclaimed Joe, "pitch into him and scramble up. "

The dog ran at him. --Joe in his agitation fell from his position, whileBill threw his rod at the beast, made a desperate leap, and clutched thetop of the wall with his hands. 

"Egad! I've lost my seat, " cried Joe, rolling upon the grass. 

"And so have I!" roared Bill, scrambling in affright over the wall. 

And true it was, that he who had not got a bite before, had got abite--behind!

Bill anathematised the dog, but the ludicrous bereavement he hadsustained made him laugh, in spite of his teeth!

Joe joined in his merriment. 

"What a burning shame it is?" said he; "truly there ought to be breachesready made in these walls, Bill, that one might escape, if not repairthese damages. "

"No matter, " replied Bill, shaking his head, "I know the owner--he's aMember of Parliament. Stop till the next election, that's all. "

"Why, what has that to do with it?" demanded Joe. 

"Do with it, " said Bill emphatically, "why, I'll canvass for the oppositeparty, to be sure. "

"And what then?"

"Then I shall have the pleasure of serving him as his dog has served me. Yes! Joe, the M. P. Will lose his seat to a dead certainty!"

THE POUTER AND THE DRAGON. 

"Another pigeon! egad, I'm in luck's way this morning. "

Round and red, through the morning fogThe sun's bright faceShone, like some jolly toping dogOf Bacchus' race. 

When Jenkins, with his gun and curOn sport intent, Through fields, and meadows, many fur----longs gaily went. 

He popp'd at birds both great and small, But nothing hit;Or if he hit, they wouldn't fall--No, not a bit!

"It's wery strange, I do declare;I never see!I go at sky-larks in the hairOr on a tree. "

"It's all the same, they fly awayHas I let fly--The birds is frightened, I dare say, And vill not die. "

"Vhy, here's a go! I hav'nt ramm'dIn any shot;The birds must think I only shamm'd, And none have got. "

"I'll undeceive 'em quickly now, I bet a crown;And whether fieldfare, tit, or crow, Vill bring 'em down. "

And as he spake a pigeon flewAcross his way--Bang went his piece--and Jenkins slewThe flutt'ring prey. 

He bagg'd his game, and onward went, When to his viewAnother rose, by fortune sentTo make up two. 

He fired, and beheld it fallWith inward glee, And for a minute 'neath a wallStood gazing he. 

When from behind, fierce, heavy blowsFell on his hat, And knock'd his beaver o'er his nose, And laid him flat. 

"What for, " cried Jenkins, "am I mill'd, Sir, like this ere?""You villain, you, why you have kill'dMy pouter rare. "

The sturdy knave who struck him downWith frown replied:--"For which I'll make you pay a crownNor be denied. "

Poor Jenkins saw it was in vainTo bandy words;So paid the cash and vow'd, againHe'd not shoot birds--

At least of that same feather, lestFor Pouter shotSome Dragon fierce should him molest--And fled the spot. 

THE PIC-NIC. No. I. 

A merry holiday party, forming a tolerable boat-load, and well providedwith baskets of provisions, were rowing along the beautiful andpicturesque banks that fringe the river's side near Twickenham, eagerlylooking out for a spot where they might enjoy their "pic-nic" toperfection. 

"O! uncle, there's a romantic glade;--do let us land there!" exclaimed abeautiful girl of eighteen summers, to a respectable old gentleman in abroad brimmed beaver and spectacles. 

"Just the thing, I declare, " replied he--"the very spot--pull away, mylads--but dear me" continued he, as they neared the intendedlanding-place, "What have we here? What says the board?"

"PARTIES ARE NOT, ALLOWED TOLAND AND DINE HERE"

Oh! oh! very well; then we'll only land here, and dine a little furtheron. "

"What a repulsive board"--cried the young lady--"I declare now I'm quitevex'd"--

"Never mind, Julia, we won't be bored by any board"--said the jocose oldgentleman. 

"I'm sure, uncle"--said one of the youths--"we don't require any board, for we provide ourselves. "

"You're quite right, Master Dickey, " said his uncle; "for we only cameout for a lark, you know, and no lark requires more than a little turffor its entertainment; pull close to the bank, and let us land. "

"Oh! but suppose, " said the timid Julia, "the surly owner should pounceupon us, just as we are taking our wine?"

"Why then, my love, " replied he, "we have only to abandon our wine, and, like sober members of the Temperance Society--take water. "

Pulling the wherry close along side the grassy bank, and fastening itcarefully to the stump of an old tree, the whole party landed. 

"How soft and beautiful is the green-sward here, " said the romanticJulia, indenting the yielding grass with her kid-covered tiny feet; "Doesnot a gentleman of the name of Nimrod sing the pleasure of the Turf?"said Emma: "I wonder if he ever felt it as we do?"

"Certainly not, " replied Master Dickey, winking at his uncle; "for theblades of the Turf he describes, are neither so fresh nor so green asthese; and the 'stakes' he mentions are rather different from thosecontained in our pigeon-pie. "

"But I doubt, Dickey, " said his uncle, "if his pen ever described abetter race than the present company. The Jenkins's, let me tell you, come of a good stock, and sport some of the best blood in the country. "

"Beautiful branches of a noble tree, " exclaimed Master Dicky, "but, uncle, a hard row has made me rather peckish; let us spread theprovender. I think there's an honest hand of pork yonder that is rightworthy of a friendly grasp;--only see if, by a single touch of thatmagical hand, I'm not speedily transformed into a boat. "

"What sort of a boat?" cried Julia. "A cutter, to be sure, " repliedMaster Dicky, and laughing he ran off with his male companions to bringthe provisions ashore. 

Meanwhile the uncle and his niece selected a level spot beneath theumbrageous trees, and prepared for the unpacking of the edibles. 

THE PIC-NIC. No. II

Notwithstanding the proverbial variety of the climate, there is no nationunder the sun so fond of Pic-Nic parties as the English; and yet howseldom are their pleasant dreams of rural repasts in the open air fatedto be realized!

However snugly they may pack the materials for the feast, the packgenerally gets shuffled in the carriage, and consequently their promisedpleasure proves anything but "without mixture without measure. "

The jam-tarts are brought to light, and are found to have got a littlejam too much. The bottles are cracked before their time, and the liberalsupplies of pale sherry and old port are turned into a--little current. 

They turn out their jar of ghirkins, and find them mixed, and all theirstore in a sad pickle. 

The leg of mutton is the only thing that has stood in the general melee. 

The plates are all dished, and the dishes only fit for a lunatic asylum, being all literally cracked. 

Even the knives and forks are found to ride rusty on the occasion. Thebread is become sop; and they have not even the satisfaction of gettingsalt to their porridge, for that is dissolved into briny tears. 

Like the provisions, they find themselves uncomfortably hamper'd; forthey generally chuse such a very retired spot, that there is nothing tobe had for love or money in the neighbourhood, for all the shops are asdistant as--ninety-ninth cousins!

However delightful the scenery may be, it is counterbalanced by theprospect of starvation. 

Although on the borders of a stream abounding in fish, they have neitherhook nor line; and even the young gentlemen who sing fail in a catch forwant of the necessary bait. Their spirits are naturally damped by theirdisappointment, and their holiday garments by a summer shower; and thoughthe ducks of the gentlemen take the water as favourably as possible, every white muslin presently assumes the appearance of a drab, and, becoming a little limp and dirty, looks as miserable as a lame beggar!

In fine, it is only a donkey or a goose that can reasonably expect toobtain a comfortable feed in a field. It may be very poetical to talk of"Nature's table-cloth of emerald verdure;" but depend on it, a damaskone, spread over that full-grown vegetable--a mahogany table--is farpreferable. 

THE BUMPKIN. 

Giles was the eldest son and heir of Jeremiah Styles--a cultivator of thesoil--who, losing his first wife, took unto himself, at the mature age offifty, a second, called by the neighbours, by reason of the narrowness ofher economy, and the slenderness of her body, Jeremiah's Spare-rib. 

Giles was a "'cute" lad, and his appetite soon became, under hisstep-mother's management, as sharp as his wit; and although hecontinually complained of getting nothing but fat, when pork chanced toform a portion of her dietary, it was evident to all his acquaintancethat he really got lean! His legs, indeed, became so slight, that manyof his jocose companions amused themselves with striking at them withstraws as he passed through the farmyard of a morning. 

"Whoy, Giles!" remarked one of them, "thee calves ha' gone to grass, lad. "

"Thee may say that, Jeames, " replied Giles; "or d'ye see they did'ntfind I green enough. "

"I do think now, Giles, " said James, "that Mother Styles do feed thee onnothing, and keeps her cat on the leavings. "

"Noa, she don't, " said Giles, "for we boath do get what we can catch, andnothing more. Whoy, now, what do you think, Jeames; last Saturday, ifthe old 'ooman did'nt sarve me out a dish o' biled horse-beans--"

"Horse-beans?" cried James; "lack-a-daisy me, and what did you do?"

"Whoy, just what a horse would ha' done, to be sure--"

"Eat 'em?"

"Noa--I kicked, and said 'Nay, ' and so the old 'ooman put herself into awoundy passion wi' I. 'Not make a dinner of horsebeans, you daintydog, ' says she; 'I wish you may never have a worse. '--'Noa, mother, ' saysI, 'I hope I never shall. ' And she did put herself into such a tantrum, to be sure--so I bolted; whereby, d'ye see, I saved my bacon, and the old'ooman her beans. But it won't do. Jeames, I've a notion I shall go arecruit, and them I'm thinking I shall get into a reg'lar mess, and getshut of a reg'lar row. "

"Dang it, it's too bad!" said the sympathising James; "and when do theego?"

"Next March, to be sure, " replied Giles, with a spirit which was naturalto him--indeed, as to any artificial spirit, it was really foreign to hislips. 

"But thee are such a scare-crow, Giles, " said James; "thee are thin as aweasel. "

"My drumsticks, " answered he, smiling, "may recommend me to theband--mayhap--for I do think they'll beat anything. "

"I don't like sogering neither, " said James, thoughtfully. "Suppose theFrench make a hole in thee with a bagnet--"

"Whoy, then, I shall be 'sewed up, ' thee know. "

"That's mighty foine, " replied James, shaking his head; "but I'd rathernot, thank'ye. "

"Oh! Jeames, a mother-in-law's a greater bore than a bagnet, depend on't;and it's my mind, it's better to die in a trench than afore an emptytrencher--I'll list. "

And with this unalterable determination, the half-starved, though stillmerry Giles, quitted his companion; and the following month, in pursuanceof the resolve he had made, he enlisted in his Majesty's service. Fortunately for the youth, he received more billets than bullets, andconsequently grew out of knowledge, although he obtained a world ofinformation in his travels; and, at the expiration of the war, returnedto his native village covered with laurels, and in the Joyment of thehalf-pay of a corporal, to which rank he had been promoted in consequenceof his meritorious conduct in the Peninsula. His father was stillliving, but his step-nother was lying quietly in the church-yard. 

"I hope, father, " said the affectionate Giles, "that thee saw her buriedin a deep grave, and laid a stone a-top of her?"

"I did, my son. "

"Then I am happy, " replied Giles. 

[WATTY WILLIAMS AND BULL]

"He sat, like patience on a monument, smiling at grief. "

Watty Williams was a studious youth, with a long nose and a short pair oftrowsers; his delight was in the green fields, for he was one of thosephilosophers who can find sermons in stones, and good in everything. Oneday, while wandering in a meadow, lost in the perusal of Zimmerman onSolitude, he was suddenly aroused from his reverie by a loud "Moo!" and, turning about, he descried, to his dismay, a curly-fronted bull makingtowards him. 

Now, Watt. , was so good-humoured a fellow, that he could laugh at anIrish bull, and withal, so staunch a Protestant, that a papal bull onlyexcited a feeling of pity and contempt; but a bull of the breed which wascareering towards him in such lively bounds, alarmed him beyond allbounds; and he forthwith scampered over the meadow from the pugnaceousanimal with the most agile precipitation imaginable; for he was not oneof those stout-hearted heroes who could take the bull by thehorns--especially as the animal appeared inclined to contest the meadowwith him; and though so fond of beef (as he naturally was), he declined around upon the present occasion. 

Seeing no prospect of escape by leaping stile or hedge, he hopped thegreen turf like an encaged lark, and happily reached a pollard in themidst of the meadow. 

Climbing up with the agility of a squirrel, he seated himself on theknobby summit of the stunted willow. 

Still retaining his Zimmerman and his senses, he looked down and beheldthe corniferous quadruped gamboling playfully round his singular asylum. 

"Very pleasant!" exclaimed he; "I suppose, old fellow you want to have agame at toss!--if so, try it on with your equals, for you must see, ifyou have any gumption, that Watty Williams is above you. Aye, you mayroar!--but if I sit here till Aurora appears in the east, you won't catchme winking. What a pity it is you cannot reflect as well as ruminate;you would spare yourself a great deal of trouble, and me a little frightand inconvenience. "

The animal disdainfully tossed his head, and ran at the tree--and

"Away flew the light bark!"

in splinters, but the trunk remained unmoved. 

"Shoo! shoo!" cried Watty, contemptuously; but he found that shoo'inghorns was useless; the beast still butted furiously against the harmlesspollard. 

"Hallo!" cried he to a dirty boy peeping at a distance--"Hallo!" but thelad only looked round, and vanished in an instant. 

"The little fool's alarmed, I do believe!" said he; "He's only a cow-boy, I dare say!" And with this sapient, but unsatisfactory conclusion, heopened his book, and read aloud, to keep up his courage. 

The bull hearing his voice, looked up with a most melancholy leer, thecorners of his mouth drawn down with an expression of pathetic gravity. 

Luckily for Watty, the little boy had given information of his dilemma, and the farmer to whom the bull belonged came with some of his men, andrescued him from his perilous situation. 

"The gentleman will stand something to drink, I hope?" said one of themen. 

"Certainly" said Watty. 

"That's no more than right, " said the farmer, "for, according to the NewPolice Act, we could fine you. "

"What for?"

"Why, we could all swear that when we found you, you were so elevated youcould not walk!"

Hereupon his deliverers set up a hearty laugh. 

Watty gave them half-a-crown; saying, with mock gravity--

"I was on a tree, and you took me off--that was kind! I was in a fright, and you laughed at me; that was uncharitable. Farewell!"

DELICACY!

Lounging in Hyde Park with the facetious B____, all on a summer's day, just at that period when it was the fashion to rail against the beautifulstatue, erected by the ladies of England, in honour of the GreatCaptain--

"The hero of a hundred fights, "--

"How proudly must he look from the windows of Apsley House, " said I, "upon this tribute to his military achievements. "

"No doubt, " replied B____; and with all that enthusiasm with which oneman of mettle ever regards another! At the same time, how lightly musthe hold the estimation of the gallant sons of Britain, when he reflectsthat he has been compelled to guard his laurelled brow from the randombullets of a democratic mob, by shot-proof blinds to his noble mansion:this was:

'The unkindest cut of all, '

after all his hair-breadth 'scapes, by flood and field, in the service. Of his country, to be compelled to fortify his castle against domesticfoes. "

"A mere passing cloud, that can leave no lasting impression on his greatmind, " said I; "while this statue will for ever remain, a memorial of hisgreat deeds; and yet the complaint is general that the statue isindelicate--as if, forsooth, this was the first statue exhibited in'puris naturalibus' in England. I really regard it as the senselesscavilling of envious minds. "

"True, " said B____, laughing; "there is a great deal of railing about thefigure, but we can all see through it!" at the same time thrusting hiswalking-stick through the iron-fence that surrounds the pedestal. As fordelicacy, it is a word that is used so indiscriminately, and has so manysignifications, according to the mode, that few people rightly understandits true meaning. We say, for instance, a delicate child; andpork-butchers recommend a delicate pig! Delicacy and indelicacy dependon the mind of the recipient, and is not so much in the object as theobserver, rely on't. Some men have a natural aptitude in discovering theindelicate, both in words and figures they appear, in a manner, to seekfor it. I assure you that. I (you may laugh if you will) have oftenbeen put to the blush by the repetition of some harmless phrase, droppedinnocently from my lips, and warped by one of these 'delicate' gentlemento a meaning the very reverse of what I intended to convey. Like menwith green spectacles, they look upon every object through an artificialmedium, and give it a colour that has no existence in itself!

It was only last week, I was loitering about this very spot, when Iobserved, among the crowd of gazers, a dustman dressed in his best, andhis plump doxy, extravagantly bedizened in her holiday clothes, hangingon his arm. 

As they turned away, the lady elevated the hem of her rather shortgarments a shade too high (as the delicate dustman imagined) above herancle. He turned towards her, and, in an audible whisper, said, 'Delicacy, my love--'delicacy!'--'Lawks, Fred!' replied the damsel, witha loud guffaw, '--'it's not fashionable!--besides, vot's the good o'having a fine leg, if one must'nt show it?'

So much for opinions on delicacy!

"NOW JEM--"

"Now, Jem, let's shew these gals how we can row. "

The tide is agin us, I know, But pull away, Jem, like a trump;Vot's that? O! my vig, it's a barge--Oh! criky! but that vos a bump!

How lucky 'twas full o' round coals, Or ve might ha' capsized her--perhaps!See, the bargemen are grinning, by goles!I never seed sich wulgar chaps. 

Come, pull away, Jem, like a man, A vherry's a coming alongVith a couple o' gals all agog--So let us be first in the throng. 

Now put your scull rig'ler in, Don't go for to make any crabs;But feather your oar, like a nob, And show 'em ve're nothink but dabs!

The vaterman's leering at us, And the gals is a giggling so--They take us for green'uns, but veVill soon show 'em how ve can row. 

Alas! for poor Bobby's "show off"--He slipp'd in a trice from his seat--While his beaver fell into the stream, And the gals laugh'd aloud at his feat. 

For his boots were alone to be seen, As he sprawled like a crab on its back;While the waterman cried--"Ho! my lads!I think you'd best try t'other tack!"

Says Bobby--"You fool, it's your fault;Look--my best Sunday castor is vet:Pull ashore, then, as fast as you can. I can't row no more--I'm upset. 

"I think that my napper is broke, Abumpin' agin this wile boat;You may laugh--but I think it's no joke:And I shan't soon agin be afloat. 

"I'll never take you out agin--I've had quite enough in this bout!"Cried Jem--"Don't be angry vith me;Sit still, and I'll soon--PUT YOU OUT!"

STEAMING IT TO MARGATE. 

"Steward, bring me a glass of brandy as quick as you can. "

Since the invention of steam, thousands have been tempted to inhale thesaline salubrity of the sea, that would never have been induced to try, and be tried, by the experiment of a trip. Like hams for the market, every body is now regularly salted and smoked. The process, too, is socheap! The accommodations are so elegant, and the sailors so smart! Noneof the rolling roughness of quid-chewing Jack-tars. Jack-tars! pshaw!they are regular smoke jacks on board a steamer! The Steward ("waiter"by half the cockneys called) is so ready and obliging; and then theprovisions is excellent. Who would not take a trip to Margate? There'sonly one thing that rather adulterates the felicity--a drop of gall inthe cup of mead!--and that is the horrid sea-sickness! learnedly callednostalgia; but call it by any name you please, like a stray dog, it ispretty sure to come. 

The cold perspiration--the internal commotion--the brain's giddiness--theutter prostration of strength--the Oh! I never shall forget thedeath-like feel!--Fat men rolling on the deck, like fresh caughtporpoises; little children floundering about; and white muslins andparasols vanishing below! The smoking-hot dinner sends up its fumes, andmakes the sick more sick. Soda-water corks are popping and flying aboutin every direction, like a miniature battery pointed against the assaultsof the horrid enemy!

"Steward!" faintly cries a fat bilious man, "bring me a glass of brandyas quick as you can. "

But alas! he who can thus readily summon spirits from the vasty deep, hasno power over the rolling sea, or its reaches!

"O! my poor pa!" exclaims the interesting Wilhelmina; and is so overcome, that she, sweet sympathizer! is soon below pa in the ladies' cabin. Infact, the greater part of the pleasure-seekers are taken--at full length. 

Even young ladies from boarding-school, who are thinking of husbands, declare loudly against maritime delight! while all the single young menappear double. 

The pier at last appears--and the cargo of drooping souls hail it withdelight, and with as grateful a reverence as if they were received by thegreatest peer of the realm!

They hurry from the boat as if 'twere Charon's, and they were aboutstepping into the fields of Elysium!

A change comes o'er the spirit of their dream--their nerves are braced;and so soon are mortal troubles obliterated from the mind, that in a fewdays they are ready again to tempt the terrors of sea-sickness in avoyage homewards--notwithstanding many of them, in their extremity, hadvowed that they never would return by water, if they outlived the presentinfliction; considering, naturally enough, that it was "all up" withthem!

PETER SIMPLE'S FOREIGN ADVENTURE. 

"Loud roared the dreadful thunder. "--Bay of Biscay. 

The good ship Firefly tossed and tumbled on the mountainous waves of thestormy sea, like a cork in a gutter; and when she could not stem thewaves, politically tried a little tergiversation, and went sternforemost! The boatswain piped all hands, and poor Peter Simple piped hiseye; for the cry of the whole crew was, that they were all going to DavyJones's locker. The waves struck her so repeatedly, that at last sheappeared as ungovernable as a scold in a rage; and as she found she couldnot, by any means, strike the storm in the wind, and so silence it, shegave vent to her fury by striking upon a rock!

It was a hard alternative truly; but what could she do? The long boatwas soon alongside, and was not long before it was filled with tars andsalt-water. Alas! she was speedily swamped, and the crew were compelledto swim for their lives. Peter, however, could not swim, but the seagave him a lift in his dilemma, and washed him clean ashore, where he layfor some time like a veritable lump of salt-Peter! When the storm hadabated he came to himself, and of course found himself in no agreeablecompany!

Sticking his cocked-hat on his head, and grasping his dirk in his hand, he tottered to a rock, when, seating himself, he philosophically rockedto and fro. "Oh! vy vos I a midshipman, " cried he, "to be wrecked onthis desolate island? I vish I vos at home at Bloomsbury! Oh! that Ihad but to turn and embrace my kind, good, benevolent, and much respectedgrandmother. " As he uttered this pathetic plaint, he heard a chatter--ofwhich, at first considering that it proceeded from his own teeth, he tookno notice--but the sounds being repeated, he turned his head, and behelda huge baboon with a dog-face and flowing hair, grinning with admirationat his cocked hat. 

One look was sufficient! he leaped from his seat, and rushed wildlyforward, threading a wood in his way, and turning in and out--in and out--with the sharpness and facility of a needle in the heel of a worstedstocking--he never stayed his flight, 'till he fell plump into the centreof a group of Indians, who received him with a yell!--loud enough tosplit the drums of a whole drawing-room full of ears polite. 

He would have fallen headlong with fear and exhaustion upon the turf, hadnot a gentle female caught the slender youth in her arms, and embracedhim with all the energetic affection of a boa-constrictor. 

Peter trembled like a little inoffensive mouse in the claws of a tabby!

At the same time one of the Indians stepped forward, brandishing hisscalping knife. 

He was the very prototype of an animated bronze Hercules; and, seizingthe poor middy's lank locks, with a peculiar twist, in his irongrasp--Peter fainted!

PETER SIMPLE'S FOREIGN ADVENTURE. No. II. 

"O! what a lost mutton am I!"--Inkle and Yarico. 

Most luckily for poor Peter was it, that he fell into the hands, orrather the arms, of the Indian maid; for she not only preserved his crop, but his life. When he recovered from his swoon, he found himself seatedbeside his preserver, who, with one arm round his waist, was holding acocoa-nut, filled with a refreshing beverage, to his parched and pallidlips. A large fire blazed in the middle of the wide space occupied bythe Indians, and he beheld the well-known coats and jackets of the bravecrew of the Firefly scattered on the greensward. 

His heart palpitated-he thought at first that the villainous Indians hadstripped them, and left them to wander in a state of nature through thetangled and briery woods. He was, however, soon--too soon--convincedthat the savages had dressed them! Yes, that merry crew--who had sooften roasted him--had been roasted by the Indians!

From this awful fate the lovely Ootanga had preserved him. She hadsuddenly conceived a violent affection for the young white-face; and, after a long harangue to the chief, her father, his consent was obtained, and the nuptials were celebrated. 

"I smell a rat, " said Peter--"I'm booked; but better booked than cooked, at any rate;" and forthwith returned thanks to the company for the honourthey had conferred upon him, in the fashion of an after-dinner speech, accompanied with as much pantomime as he could manage. 

A dance and a feast followed, of which Peter partook; but whether rabbit, squirrel, or monkey, formed the basis of his wedding-supper, he was notnaturalist enough to determine. 

Ootanga's affection, however, was sufficient to make amends for anything;she was, in truth, a most killing beauty, for she brought him tigersslain by her own hands, and made a couch for him of the skins. 

She caught rattlesnakes for him, and spitch-cooked them for hisbreakfast. In fact, there was nothing she left undone to convince him ofher unbounded love. 

Peter's heart, however, was untouched by all this show of tenderness; forthe fact is, he had already given his heart to a white-face in his owncountry. 

The only consolation he had in his forlorn situation was to talk of hercontinually; and, as Ootanga understood not a syllable of what heuttered, she naturally applied all his tender effusions to herself, andlaughed and grinned, and showed her white teeth, as if she would devourher little husband. 

Seated on a tiger skin, with his lawful spouse beside him, arrayed inshells, bows, feathers, and all the adornments of a savage bride, hestill sighed for home, and plaintively exclaimed:--

"Here I am, married to the only daughter of the great chief, who wouldhave roasted me with the rest of our crew, had I not given a joyfulconsent. Oh! I wonder if I ever shall get home, and be married to MissWiggins!!!"

The lovely wide-mouthed Ootanga patted him fondly on the chin, anddreamed in her ignorance that he was paying her a compliment in hisnative language. 

DOBBS'S "DUCK. "

A LEGEND OF HORSELYDOWN. 

It may be accepted as an indubitable truth, that when the tenderestepithets are bandied between a married couple, that the domestic affairsdo not go particularly straight. 

Dobbs and his rib were perhaps the most divided pair that ever were yokedby Hymen. D. Was a good-humored fellow, a jovial blade, full of highspirits--while his wife was one of the most cross-grained andcantankerous bodies that ever man was blessed with--and yet, to hear thesweet diminutives which they both employed in their dialogues, the worldwould have concluded that they were upon the best terms conceivable. 

"My love, " quoth Mrs. D. , "I really now should like to take a boat androw down the river as far as Battersea; the weather is so very fine, andyou know, my dear love, how fond I am of the water. "

D. Could have added (and indeed it was upon the very tip of histongue)--"mixed with spirits"--but he wisely restrained the impertinentallusion. 

"Well, my duck, " said he, "you have only to name the day, you know, I amalways ready to please, "--and then, as was his habit, concluded hisgracious speech by singing--

"'Tis woman vot seduces all mankind--Their mother's teach them the wheedling art. "

"Hold your nonsense, do, " replied Mrs. D____, scarcely able to restrainher snappish humour, but, fearful of losing the jaunt, politically added, "Suppose, love, we go to-day--no time like the present, dear. "

"Thine am I--thine am I, " sang the indulgent husband. 

And Mrs. D____ hereupon ordered the boy to carry down to the stairs acargo of brandy, porter, and sandwiches, for the intended voyage, andtaking her dear love in the humour, presently appeared duly decked outfor the trip. 

Two watermen and a wherry were soon obtained, and Dobbs, lighting hiscigar, alternately smoked and sang, while his duck employed herself mostagreeably upon the sandwiches. 

The day was bright and sunny, and exceedingly hot; and they had scarcelyrowed as far as the Red-House, when Mrs. D____became rather misty, fromthe imbibation of the copious draughts she had swallowed to quench herthirst. 

A lighter being a-head, the boatmen turned round, while Dobbs, casting uphis eyes to the blue heavens, was singing, in the hilarity of his heart, "Hearts as warm as those above, lie under the waters cold, " when the boatheeled, and his duck, who unfortunately could not swim, slipped gentlyover the gunwhale, and, unnoticed, sank to rise no more. 

"Ah!" said Dobbs, when, some months afterwards, he was speaking of thesad bereavement, "She was a wife! I shall never get such another, and, what's more, I would not if I could. "

STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM. 

Among all the extraordinary and fantastic dishes compounded for thepalate of Heliogabalus, the Prince of Epicures, that delicious admixtureof the animal and the vegetable--Strawberries and Cream--is nevermentioned in the pages of the veracious chronicler of his gastronomicfeats!

Yes! 'tis a lamentable truth, this smooth, oleaginous, and delicatelyodorous employment for the silver spoon, was unknown. Should theknowledge of his loss reach him in the fields of Elysium, will not hissteps be incontinently turned towards the borders of the Styx--hisplaintive voice hail the grim ferryman, while in his most persuasivetones he cries--

"Row me back--row me back, "

that he may enjoy, for a brief space, this untasted pleasure? Ye gods!in our mind's eye we behold the heartless and unfeeling Charon refuse hisearnest prayer, and see his languid spirit--diluted by disappointment toinsipidity--wandering over the enamelled meads, as flat and shallow as anoverflow in the dank fens of Lincoln. 

His imagination gloats upon the fragrant invention, and he gulps at thecheating shadow until Elysium becomes a perfect Hades to his torturedspirit. 

Mellow, rich, and toothsome compound! Toothsome did we say? Nay, eventhose who have lost their 'molares, incisores, ' canine teeth, 'dentessapientiae, ' and all can masticate and inwardly digest thee!

Racy and recherche relish!

Thou art--

As delicate as first love--As white and red as a maiden's cheek--As palateable as well-timed flattery--As light and filling as the gas of a balloon--As smooth as a courtier--As odorous as the flowers of Jasmin---As soft as flos silk--As encouraging, without being so illusory, as Hope--As tempting as green herbage to lean kine-------------- a Chancery suit to the Bill of a cormorant-lawyer-------------- a pump to a thirsty paviour-------------- a sun-flower to a bee-------------- a ripe melon to a fruit-knife-------------- a rose to a nightingale--or------------ a pot of treacle to a blue-bottle--As beautiful to the eye as a page of virgin-vellum richly illuminatedAndAs satisfactory as a fat legacy!

Talk of nectar! if Jupiter should really wish to give a bonne-bouche toJuno, Leda, or Venus, or any one of his thousand and one flames, let himskim the milky-way--transform the instrumental part of the music of thespheres into 'hautboys, ' and compound the only dish worth the roseatelips of the gentle dames 'in nubibus, ' and depend on it, the cups ofGanymede and Hebe will be rejected for a bowl of--Strawberries and Cream. 

A DAY'S PLEASURE. --No. I. 

THE JOURNEY OUT. 

"It's werry hot, but werry pleasant. "

Says Mrs. Sibson to her spouse"The days is hot and fair;I think 'twould do the children goodTo get a little hair!

"For ve've been moping here at homeAnd nothin' seen o' life;Vhile neighbor Jones he takes his jauntsO' Sundays vith his vife!"

"Vell! vell! my dear, " quoth Mr. S____"Let's hear vot you purpose;I'm al'ays ready to comply, As you, my love, vell knows. 

"I'll make no bones about the cost;You knows I never stickAbout a trifle to amuse, So, dearest Pol, be quick. "

"Vhy, this is it:--I think ve mightTo Hornsey have a day;Maria, Peg, and Sal, and BetVe'd pack into a 'chay. '

"Our Jim and Harry both could valk, (God bless their little feet!)The babby in my arms I'd take--I'm sure 'twould be a treat;"

Quoth he: "I am unanimous!"And so the day was fix'd;And forth they started in good trim, Tho' not with toil umnix'd. 

Across his shoulders Sibson boreA basket with the "grub, "And to the "chay" perform'd the "horse, "Lest Mrs. S____ should snub. 

Apollo smiled!--that is, the sunBlazed in a cloudless sky, And Sibson soon was in a "broil"By dragging of his "fry. "

Says S____, "My love, I'm dry as dust!"When she replied, quite gay, "Then, drink; for see I've bottled upMy spirits for the day. "

And from the basket drew a flask, And eke a footless glass;He quaff'd the drink, and cried, "Now, dear, I'm strong as ____" let that pass!

At last they reach'd the destined spotAnd prop and babes unpacked;They ran about, and stuff'd, and cramm'd, And really nothing lack'd. 

And Sibson, as he "blew a cloud, "Declared, "It vos a day!"And vow'd that he would come again--Then call'd for "Vot's to pay?"

A DAY'S PLEASURE. --No. II. 

THE JOURNEY HOME. 

"Vot a soaking ve shall get. "

Across the fields they homeward trudged, when, lo! a heavy rainCame pouring from the sky;Poor Sibson haul'd, the children squall'd; alas! it was too plainThey would not reach home dry. 

With clay-clogg'd wheels, and muddy heels, and Jim upon his back, He grumbled on his way;"Vell, blow my vig! this is a rig!" cried Sibson, "Vell! alack!I shan't forget this day!

"My shoes is sop, my head's a mop; I'm vet as any think;Oh! shan't ve cotch a cold!""Your tongue is glib enough!" his rib exclaim'd, and made him shrink, --For she was such a scold--

And in her eye he could descry a spark that well he knewInto a flame would rise;So he was dumb, silent and glum, as the small "chay" he drew, And ventured no replies. 

Slip, slop, and slush! past hedge and bush, the dripping mortals go(Tho' 'twas "no go" S____ thought);"If this 'ere's fun, vy I for vuu, " cried he, with face of woe, "Von't soon again be caught. 

"Vet to the skin, thro' thick and thin, to trapes ain't to my mind;So the next holidayI vill not roam, but stick at home, for there at least I'll findThe means to soak my clay. 

"Tis quite a fag, this 'chay' to drag--the babbies too is cross, And Mrs. S____ is riled. 'Tis quite a bore; the task is more--more fitt'rer for an horse;And vith the heat I'm briled!

"No, jaunts adoo! I'll none o' you!"--and soon they reach'd their home, Wet through and discontent--"Sure sich a day, I needs must say, " exclaim'd his loving spouse, "Afore I never spent!"

HAMMERING

"Beside a meandering streamThere sat an old gentleman fat;On the top of his head was his wig, On the top of his wig was his hat. "

I once followed a venerable gentleman along the banks of a mill-stream, armed at all points with piscatorial paraphernalia, looking out for someappropriate spot, with all the coolness of a Spanish inquisitor, displaying his various instruments of refined torture. He at lastperched himself near the troubled waters, close to the huge revolvingwheel, and threw in his float, which danced upon the mimic waves, andbobbed up and down, as if preparing for a reel. Patiently he sat; asmotionless and unfeeling as a block. I placed myself under cover of anadjoining hedge, and watched him for the space of half an hour; but hepulled up nothing but his baited hook;--what his bait was, I know not;but I suppose, from the vicinity, he was fishing for a "miller's thumb. "Presently, two mealy-mouthed men, from the mill, made their appearance, cautiously creeping behind him. 

I drew myself up in the shadow of the luxuriant quickset to observe theirnotions. 

A paling in the rear offered the rogues an effectual concealment in casethe angler should turn. 

Close to his seat ran some wood-work, upon which they quietly drew thebroad tails of his coat, and driving in a couple of tenpenny nails, leftthe unconscious old gentleman a perfect fixture; to be taken at avaluation, I suppose, part of his personal property being already"brought to the hammer!" the clattering clamour of the wheel precludinghim from hearing the careful, but no less effectual taps. I certainlyenjoyed the trick, and longed to see the ridiculous issue; but he was sointent upon his sport--so fixed that he did not discover the nature ofhis real attachment while I remained. 

Doubtless if he were of a quick and sudden temperament, a snatch of hishumour rent his broad cloth, and he returned home with a woful tail, andslept not--for his nap was irreparably destroyed!

I hate all twaddle; but when I see an old fool, with rod and line, "Sitting like patience on a monument, "

and selling the remnant of his life below cost price in the pursuit ofangling, --that "art of ingeniously tormenting, "--a feeling, "More in sorrow than in anger, "

is excited at his profitless inhumanity. 

Vainly do all the disciples of honest Izaak Walton discourse, ineulogistic strains, of the pleasure of the sport. I can imagine neitherpleasure nor sport derivable from the infliction of pain upon the meanestthing endowed with life. 

This may be deemed Brahminical, but I doubt that man's humanity who canindulge in the cruel recreation and murder while he smiles. 

"What, heretical sentiments, " exclaims some brother of the angle, (now Iam an angle, but no angler. ) "This fellow hath never trudged at earlydawn along the verdant banks of the 'sedgy lea, ' and drunk in the dewyfreshness of the morning air. His lines have never fallen in pleasantplaces. He has never performed a pilgrimage to Waltham Cross. He is, intruth, one of those vulgar minds who take more delight in the simple thanthe--gentle!--and every line of his deserves a rod!"

PRACTICE. 

"Sweet is the breath of morn when she ascendsWith charm of earliest birds. "---MILTON. 

"Well, this is a morning!" emphatically exclaimed a stripling, with amouth and eyes formed by Nature of that peculiar width and power ofdistension, so admirably calculated for the expression of stupid wonderor surprise; while his companion, elevating his nasal organ andprojecting his chin, sniffed the fresh morning breeze, as they trudgedthrough the dewy meadows, and declared that it was exactly for all theworld similar-like to reading Thomson's Seasons! In which apt andappropriate simile the other concurred. 

"Tom's a good fellow to lend us his gun, " continued he--"I only hope itain't given to tricking, that's all. I say, Sugarlips, keep your powderdry. "

"Leave me alone for that, " replied Sugarlips; "I know a thing or two, although this is the first time that ever I have been out. What ascuffling the birds do make"--added he, peeping into the cage which theyhad, as a precautionary measure, stocked with sparrows, in order thatthey might not be disappointed in their sport--"How they long to be onthe wing!"

"I'll wing 'em, presently!" cried his comrade, with a vaunting air--"andlook if here ain't the very identical spot for a display of my skill. Pick out one of the best and biggest, and tie up a-top of yonder stile, and you shall soon have a specimen of my execution. " Sugarlips quicklydid his bidding. 

"Now--come forward and stand back! What do ye think o' that, ey?" saidthe sportsman--levelling his gun, throwing back his head, closing hissinister ocular, and stretching out his legs after the manner of theColossus of Rhodes--"Don't you admire my style?"

"Excellent!" said Sugarlips--"But I think I could hit it. "

"What?"

"Why, the stile to be sure. "

"Keep quiet, can't you--Now for it--" and, trembling with eagerness, hishand pulled the trigger, but no report followed. "The deuce is in thegun, " cried he, lowering it, and examining the lock; "What can ail it?"

"Why, I'll be shot if that ain't prime, " exclaimed Sugarlips, laughingoutright. 

"What do you mean?"

"I've only forgot the priming--that's all. "

"There's a pretty fellow, you are, for a sportsman. "

"Well, it's no matter as it happens; for, though 'Time and tide wait forno man, ' a sparrow tied must, you know. There! that will do. "

"Sure you put the shot in now?"

"If you put the shot into Dicky as surely, he'll never peck groundselagain, depend on it. "

Again the "murderous tube" was levelled; Sugarlips backed against anadjoining wall, with a nervous adhesiveness that evidently proved himless fearful of a little mortar than a great gun!

"That's right; out of the way, Sugarlips; I am sure I shall hit him thistime. " And no sooner had he uttered this self-congratulatory assurance(alas! not life-assurance!) than a report (most injurious to the innocentcock-sparrow) was heard in the neighbourhood!

"Murder!--mur-der!" roared a stentorian voice, which made the criniferouscoverings of their craniums stand on end. 

"Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. "

In an instant the sportsman let fall his gun, and Sugarlips ranaffrighted towards the stile. He found it really "vox et pretereanihil;" for a few feathers of the bird alone were visible: he had beenblown to nothing; and, peeping cautiously round the angle of the wall, hebeheld a portly gentleman in black running along with the unwieldy gaitof a chased elephant. 

"Old Flank'em, of the Finishing Academy, by jingo!" exclaimed Sugarlips. "It's a mercy we didn't finish him! Why, he must actually have been onthe point of turning the corner. I think we had better be off; for, ifthe old dominie catches us, he will certainly liberate our sparrows, and--put us in the cage!"

But, where's the spoil?"

"Spoil, indeed!" cried Sugarlips; "you've spoiled him nicely. I've anidea, Tom, you were too near, as the spendthrift nephew said of hismiserly uncle. If you can't get an aim at a greater distance, you'dnever get a name as a long shot--that's my mind. "

PRECEPT. 

Uncle Samson was a six-bottle man. His capacity was certainly great, whatever might be said of his intellect; for I have seen him rise withoutthe least appearance of elevation, after having swallowed the customaryhalf dozen. He laughed to scorn all modern potations of wishy-washyFrench and Rhine wines--deeming them unfit for the palate of a true-bornEnglishman. Port, Sherry, and Madeira were his only tipple--the rest, hewould assert, were only fit for finger-glasses!

--He was of a bulky figure, indeed a perfect Magnum among men, with avery apoplectic brevity of neck, and a logwood complexion, --and though astaunch Church-of-England-man, he might have been mistaken, from hispredilection for the Port, to be a true Mussulman. To hear him discourseupon the age of his wines--the 'pinhole, ' the 'crust, ' the 'bees'-wing, 'etc. , was perfectly edifying--and every man who could not imbibe theprescribed quantum, became his butt. To temperance and tea-totalsocieties he attributed the rapid growth of radicalism and dissent. 

"Water, " he would say, with a sort of hydrophobic shudder, "is only a fitbeverage for asses!"--"To say a man could drink like a fish, was once thegreatest encomium that a bon-vivant could bestow upon a brotherBacchanalian--but, alas! in this matter-of-fact and degenerate age, mendo so literally--washing their gills with unadulterated water!--Dropsyand water on the chest must be the infallible result! If such an orderof things continue, all the puppies in the kingdom, who would perhapshave become jolly dogs in their time, will be drowned! Yes, they'llinevitably founder, like a water-logged vessel, in sight of port. Thesewater-drinkers will not have a long reign. They would feign persuade usthat 'Truth lies at the bottom of a well, '--lies, indeed! I tell youHorace knew better, and that his assertion of 'There is truth in wine, 'was founded on experience--his draughts had no water-mark in 'em, dependon it. "

He was a great buyer of choice "Pieces, " and his cellar contained one ofthe best stocks in the kingdom, both in the wood and bottle. PoorUncle!--he has now been some years "in the wood" himself, and snuglystowed in the family vault!

Having been attacked with a severe cold, he was compelled to call in theDoctor, who sent him a sudorific in three Lilliputian bottles; butalthough he received the advice of his medical friend, he followedShakspeare's, "Throw physic to the dogs, "

and prescribed for himself a bowl of wine-whey as a febrifuge. Hishousekeeper remonstrated, but he would have his 'whey, ' and he died!leaving a handsome fortune, and two good-looking nephews to follow him tothe grave. 

Myself and Cousin (the two nephews aforesaid) were vast favourites withthe old gentleman, and strenuously did he endeavour to initiate us in theart of drinking, recounting the feats of his youth, and hisdrinking-bouts with my father, adding, with a smile, "But you'll never bea par with, your Uncle, Ned, till you can carry the six bottles underyour waistcoat. "

My head was certainly stronger than my Cousin's; he went as far as thethird bottle--the next drop was on the floor! Now I did once manage thefourth bottle--but then--I must confess I was obliged to give it up!

"Young men, " would my Uncle say, "should practice 'sans intermission, 'until they can drink four bottles without being flustered, then they willbe sober people; for it won't be easy to make them tipsy--a drunken man Iabominate!"

EXAMPLE. 

"You see I make no splash!"

There are some individuals so inflated with self-sufficiency, andentertain such an overweaning opinion of their skill in all matters, thatthey must needs have a finger in every pie. 

Perhaps a finer specimen than old V____, of this genius of egotistic, meddling mortals, never existed. He was a man well-to-do in the world, and possessed not only a large fortune, but a large family. 

He had an idea that no man was better qualified to bring up his childrenin the way they should go; and eternally plagued the obsequious tutors ofhis sons with his novel mode of instilling the rudiments of the Latintongue, although he knew not a word of the language; and the obedientmistresses of his daughters with his short road to attaining a perfectionin playing the piano-forte, without knowing a note of the gamut: but whatcould they say; why, nothing more or less than they were 'astonished;'which was vague enough to be as true as it was flattering. 

And then he was so universally clever, that he even interfered in theculinary department of his household, instructing the red-elbowed, greasy, grinning Cook, in the sublime art of drawing, stuffing, androasting a goose, for which she certainly did not fail to roast the goose(her master) when she escaped to the regions below. 

Even his medical attendant was compelled to acknowledge the efficacy ofhis domestic prescriptions of water-gruel and honey in catarrhs, androasted onions in ear-aches, and sundry other simple appliances; and, infine, found himself, on most occasions, rather a 'consulting surgeon, 'than an apothecary, for he was compelled to yield to the man who hadstudied Buchan's and Graham's Domestic Medicine. And the onlyconsolation he derived from his yielding affability, were the long billsoccasioned by the mistakes of this domestic quack, who was continuallyrunning into errors, which required all his skill to repair. Nay, hiswife's mantua-maker did not escape his tormenting and impertinent advice;for he pretended to a profound knowledge in all the modes, from the timeof Elizabeth to Victoria, and deemed his judgment in frills, flounces, and corsages, as undeniable and infallible. 

Of course the sempstress flattered his taste; for his wife, poor soul!she soon had tact enough to discover, had no voice in the business. 

His eldest son, George, had a notion that he could angle. Old V____immediately read himself up in Walton, and soon convinced--himself, thathe was perfect in that line, and quite capable of teaching the whole artand mystery. 

"See, George, " said he, when they had arrived at a convenient spot fortheir first attempt, "this is the way to handle your tackle; drop itgently into the water, --so!" and, twirling the line aloft, he hooked thebranches of an overhanging tree!--sagaciously adding, "You see I make nosplash! and hold your rod in this manner!"

George was too much afraid of his imperious father, to point out hiserror, and old V____ consequently stood in the broiling sun for a fullquarter of an hour, before he discovered that he had caught a birchinstead of a perch!

A MUSICAL FESTIVAL. 

Matter-of-fact people read the story of Orpheus, and imagine that his"charming rocks" and "soothing savage beasts, " is a mere fabulousinvention. No such thing: it is undoubtedly founded on fact. Nay, wecould quote a thousand modern instances of the power of music quite asastonishing. 

One most true and extraordinary occurrence will suffice to establish thetruth of our proposition beyond a doubt. Molly Scraggs was a cook in afirst-rate family, in the most aristocratic quarter of the metropolis. 

The master and mistress were abroad, and Molly had nothing to do but toindulge her thoughts; and, buried as she was in the pleasant gloom andquiet of an underground kitchen, nothing could possibly be morefavourable to their developement. She was moreover exceedingly plump, tender, and sentimental, and had had a lover, who had proved false to hisvows. 

In this eligible situation and temper for receiving soft impressions, shesat negligently rocking herself in her chair, and polishing the lid of acopper saucepan! when the sweet, mellifluous strains of an itinerant bandstruck gently upon the drum of her ear. "Wapping Old Stairs" wasdistinctly recognized, and she mentally repeated the words so applicableto her bereaved situation. 

"Your Molly has never proved false she declares, " 'till the tearsliterally gushed from her "blue, blue orbs, " and trickled down her plumpand ruddy cheeks; but scarcely had she plunged into the very depths ofthe pathos induced by the moving air, which threatened to throw her intoa gentle swoon, or kicking hysterics, when her spirit was aroused by thesudden change of the melancholy ditty, to the rampant and lively tune, with the popular burden of, "Turn about and wheel about, and jump JimCrow!"

This certainly excited her feelings; but, strange to say, it made herleap from her chair, exasperated, as it were, by the sudden revulsion, and rush into the area. 

"Don't, for goodness sake, play that horrid 'chune, '" said Molly, emphatically addressing the minstrels. 

The 'fiddle' immediately put his instrument under his arm, and, touchingthe brim of his napless hat, scraped a sort of bow, and smilingly askedthe cook to name any other tune she preferred. 

"Play us, " said she, "'Oh! no, we never mention her, ' or summat o' thatsort; I hate jigs and dances mortally. "

"Yes, marm, " replied the 'fiddle, ' obsequiously; and, whispering the'harp' and 'bass, ' they played the air to her heart's content. 

In fact, if one might guess by the agility with which she ran into thekitchen, she was quite melted; and, returning with the remnants of agooseberry pie and the best part of a shoulder of mutton, she handed themto the musicians. 

"Thanky'e, marm, I'm sure, " said the 'bass, ' sticking his teeth into thepie-crust. 

"The mutton 's rayther fat, but it 's sweet, at any rate--"

"Yes, marm, " said the 'fiddle;' "it's too fat for your stomach, I'm sure, marm;" and consigned it to his green-baize fiddle-case. 

"Now, " said Molly, --"play us, 'Drink to me only, ' and I'll draw you a mugo' table-ale. "

"You're vastly kind, " said the 'fiddle;' "it's a pleasure to play anythinkfor you, marm, you've sich taste;" and then turning to his comrades, headded, with a smile--"By goles! if she ain't the woppingest cretur asever I set eyes on--"

The tune required was played, and the promised ale discussed. The'bass, ' with a feeling of gratitude, voted that they should give aparting air unsolicited. 

"Vot shall it be?" demanded the 'harp. '

"Vy, considering of her size, " replied the 'fiddle, ' "I thinks as nothinkcouldn't be more appropriate than

'Farewell to the mountain!'"

and, striking up, they played the proposed song, marching on well pleasedwith the unexpected appreciation of their musical talent by the kind, andmunificent Molly Scraggs!

THE EATING HOUSE. 

From twelve o'clock until four, the eating houses of the City are crammedwith hungry clerks. 

Bills of fare have not yet been introduced, --the more's the pity; but, inlieu thereof, you are no sooner seated in one of the snug inviting littlesettles, with a table laid for four or six, spread with a snowy cloth, still bearing the fresh quadrangular marks impressed by the mangle, andrather damp, than the dapper, ubiquitous waiter, napkin in hand, standsbefore you, and rapidly runs over a detailed account of the temptingviands all smoking hot, and ready to be served up. 

"Beef, boiled and roast; veal and ham; line of pork, roast; leg boiled, with pease pudding; cutlets, chops and steaks, greens, taters, andpease, " etc. Etc. 

Some are fastidious, and hesitate; the waiter, whose eyes are 'all abouthim, ' leaves you to meditate and decide, while he hastens to inform a newarrival, and mechanically repeats his catalogue of dainties; and, bawlingout at the top of his voice, "One roast beaf and one taters, " you echohis words, and he straightway reports your wishes in the same voice andmanner to the invisible purveyors below, and ten to one but you get apiece of boiled fat to eke out your roast meat. 

In some houses, new and stale bread, at discretion, are provided; andmany a stripling, lean and hungry as a greyhound, with a large appetiteand a small purse, calls for a small plate, without vegetables, and fillsup the craving crannies with an immoderate proportion of the staff oflife, while the reckoning simply stands, "one small plate 6d. , one bread1d. , one waiter 1d. ;" and at this economical price satisfies the demandsof his young appetite. 

But still, cheap as this appears, he pays it the aggregate, for there arefrequently 500 or 600 diners daily at these Establishments; and thewaiter, who generally purchases his place, and provides glass, cloths, etc. Not only makes a 'good thing of it, ' but frequently accumulatessufficient to set up on his own account, in which case, he is almost sureof being followed by the regular customers. 

For he is universally so obliging, and possesses such a memory, and anaptness in discovering the various tastes of his visitors, that he seldomfails in making most of the every-day feeders his fast friends. 

"Tom, bring me a small plate of boiled beef and potatoes, " cries one ofhis regulars. Placing his hand upon the table-cloth; and knocking offthe crumbs with his napkin, he bends to the gentleman, and in a small. Confidential voice informs him, "The beef won't do for you, Sir, --it's too low, it's bin in cut a hour. Fine ribs o' lamb, jist up. "

"That will do, Tom, " says the gratified customer. 

"Grass or spinach, Sir? fine 'grass, '--first this season. "

"Bring it, and quick, Tom, " replies the gentleman, pleased with theassiduous care he takes in not permitting him to have an indifferent cutof a half cold joint. 

The most extraordinary part of the business is, the ready manner in whichhe 'casts up' all you have eaten, takes the reckoning, and then is offagain in a twinkling. 

A stranger, and one unaccustomed to feed in public, is recognised in amoment by his uneasy movements. He generally slinks into the nearestvacant seat, and is evidently taken aback by the apparently abrupt andrapid annunciation of the voluble and active waiter, and, in the hurryand confusion, very frequently decides upon the dish least pleasant tohis palate. 

A respectable gentleman of the old school, of a mild and reverendappearance, and a lean and hungry figure, once dropped into a settlewhere we were discussing a rump steak and a shallot, tender as an infant, and fragrant as a flower garden! Tom pounced upon him in a moment, anduttered the mystic roll. The worthy senior was evidently confused andstartled, but necessity so far overcame his diffidence that he softlysaid, "A small portion of veal and ham, well done. "

Tom, whirled round, continuing the application of his eternal napkin to atumbler which he was polishing, bawled out in a stentorian voice, "Plate o' weal, an' dam well done!"

We shall never sponge from the slate of our memory the utter astonishmentexpressed in the bland countenance of the startled old gentleman at thispeculiar echo of his wishes. 

SCENE X. (b)

"This is a werry lonely spot, Sir; I wonder you ar'n't afeard of beingrobbed. "

Job Timmins was a tailor bold, And well he knew his trade, And though he was no fighting manHad often dress'd a blade!

Quoth he, one day--"I have not hadA holiday for years, So I'm resolv'd to go and fish, And cut for once the shears. "

So donning quick his Sunday's suit, He took both rod and line, And bait for fish--and prog for one, And eke a flask of wine. 

For he was one who loved to live, And said--"Where'er I roamI like to feed--and though abroad, To make myself at home. "

Beneath a shady grove of treesHe sat him down to fish, And having got a cover, heLong'd much to get a dish. 

He cast his line, and watch'd his float, Slow gliding down the tide;He saw it sink! he drew it up, And lo! a fish he spied. 

He took the struggling gudgeon off, And cried--"I likes his looks, I wish he'd live--but fishes dieSoon as they're--off the hooks!"

At last a dozen more he drew--(Fine-drawing 'twas to him!)But day past by--and twilight came, All objects soon grew dim. 

"One more!" he cried, "and then I'll pack, And homeward trot to sup, "--But as he spoke, he heard a tread, Which caused him to look up. 

Poor Timmins trembled as he gazedUpon the stranger's face;For cut purse! robber! all too plain, His eye could therein trace. 

"Them's werry handsome boots o' yourn, "The ruffian smiling cried, "Jist draw your trotters out--my pal--And we'll swop tiles, besides. "

"That coat too, is a pretty fit--Don't tremble so--for IVon't rob you of a single fish, I've other fish to fry. "

Poor Timmins was obliged to yieldHat, coat, and boots--in shortHe was completely stripp'd--and paidMost dearly for his "sport. "

And as he homeward went, he sigh'd--"Farewell to stream and brook;O! yes, they'll catch me there againA fishing--with a hook!"

GONE!

Along the banks, at early dawn, Trudged Nobbs and Nobbs's son, With rod and line, resolved that dayGreat fishes should be won. 

At last they came unto a bridge, Cried Nobbs, "Oh! this is fine!"And feeling sure 'twould answer well, He dropp'd the stream a line. 

"We cannot find a fitter place, If twenty miles we march;Its very look has fix'd my choice, So knowing and--so arch!"

He baited and he cast his line, When soon, to his delight, He saw his float bob up and down, And lo! he had a bite!

"A gudgeon, Tom, I think it is!"Cried Nobbs, "Here, take the prize;It weighs a pound--in its own scales, I'm quite sure by its size. "

He cast again his baited hook, And drew another up!And cried, "We are in luck to-day, How glorious we shall sup!"

All in the basket Tommy stow'dThe piscatory spoil;Says Nobbs, "We've netted two at least, Albeit we've no toil. "

Amazed at his own luck, he threwThe tempting bait again, And presently a nibble had--A bite! he pull'd amain!

His rod beneath the fish's weightNow bent just like a bow, "What's this?" cried Nobbs; his son replied, "A salmon, 'tis, I know. "

And sure enough a monstrous perch, Of six or seven pounds, He from the water drew, whose bulkBoth dad and son confounds. 

"O! Gemini!" he said, when he"O! Pisces!" should have cried;And tremblingly the wriggling fishHaul'd to the bridge's side. 

When, lo! just as he stretched his handTo grasp the perch's fin, The slender line was snapp'd in twain, The perch went tumbling in!

"Gone! gone! by gosh!" scream'd Nobbs, while TomToo eager forward bent, And, with a kick, their basket quickInto the river sent. 

THE PRACTICAL JOKER. --No. I. 

Those wags who are so fond of playing off their jokes upon others, require great skill and foresight to prevent the laugh being turnedagainst themselves. 

Jim Smith was an inveterate joker, and his jokes were, for the most part, of the practical kind. He had a valuable tortoiseshell cat, whose beautywas not only the theme of praise with all the old maids in theneighbourhood, but her charms attracted the notice of numerous felinegentlemen dwelling in the vicinity, who were, nocturnally, wont to paytheir devoirs by that species of serenades, known under the cacophonousname of caterwauling. 

One very ugly Tom, (who, it was whispered abroad, was agreat--grandfather, and scandalously notorious for gallantries unbecominga cat of his age) was particularly obnoxious to our hero; and, in anunlucky moment, he resolved to 'pickle him, ' as he facetiously termed it. Now his process of pickling consisted in mixing a portion of prussic acidin milk. Taking the precaution to call in his own pet and favorite, heplaced the potion in the accustomed path of her long-whiskered suitor. Tom finding the coast clear slipped his furry body over the wall, anddropped gently as a lady's glove into the garden, and slily smelling theflower-borders, as if he were merely amusing himself in the elegant studyof botany, stealthily approached the house, and uttering a low plaintive'miau, ' to attract the attention of his dear Minx, patiently awaited theappearance of his true-love. 

Minx heard the voice she loved so well, and hurried to meet her ancientbeau. A slight noise, however, alarmed his timidity, and he scaled thewall in a twinkling. 

Presently the screams of the maid assured him that 'something had takenplace;' and when he heard the words, "Oh! the cat! the cat!" he feltquite certain that the potion had taken effect. He walked deliberatelydown stairs, and behold! there lay Miss Minx, his own favorite, struggling in the agonies of death, on the parlor rug. The fact is, hehad shut the doors, but forgotten that the window was open, and theconsequence was, the loss of poor Minx, who had drunk deep of themalignant poison designed for her gallant. 

This was only one of a thousand tricks that had miscarried. 

Having one day ascertained that his acquaintance, Tom Wilkins, was goneout 'a-shooting, ' he determined to way-lay him on his return. 

It was a beautiful moonlight night in the latter end of October. Disguising himself in a demoniac mask, a pair of huge wings, and a forkedtail, he seated himself on a stile in the sportsman's path. 

Anon he espied the weary and unconscious Tom approaching, lost in theprofundity of thought, and though not in love, ruminating on every misshe had made in that day's bootless trudge. 

He almost, touched the stile before his affrighted gaze encountered this'goblin damned. '

His short crop bristled up, assuming the stiffness of a penetrating hairbrush. 

For an instant his whole frame appeared petrified, and the tide andcurrent of his life frozen up in thick-ribbed ice. 

Jim Smith, meanwhile, holding out a white packet at arm's length, exclaimed in a sepulchral tone, "D'ye want a pound of magic shot?"

THE PRACTICAL JOKER. --No. II. 

Awfully ponderous as the words struck upon the tightened drum of Tom'sauriculars, they still tended to arouse his fainting spirit. 

"Mer-mer-mercy on us!" ejaculated he, and shrank back a pace or two, still keeping his dilating optics fixed upon the horrible spectre. 

"D'ye want a pound of magic shot?" repeated Jim Smith. 

"Mur-mur-der!" screamed Tom; and, mechanically raising his gun for actionof some kind appeared absolutely necessary to keep life within him, heaimed at the Tempter, trembling in every joint. 

Jim, who had as usual never calculated upon such a turning of the tables, threw off his head--his assumed one, of course, and, leaping from thestile, cried aloud--

"Oh! Tom, don't shoot--don't shoot!--it's only me--Jim Smith!"

Down dropped the gun from the sportsman's grasp. 

"Oh! you fool! you--you--considerable fool!" cried he, supportinghimself on a neighbouring hawthorn, which very kindly and consideratelylent him an arm on the occasion. "It's a great mercy--a very greatmercy, Jim--as we wasn't both killed!--another minute, only anotherminute, and--but it won't bear thinking on. "

"Forgive me, Tom, " said the penitent joker; "I never was so near a corpseafore. If I didn't think the shots were clean through me, and that'sflat. "

"Sich jokes, " said Tom, "is onpardonable, and you must be mad. "

"I confess I'm out of my head, Tom, " said Jim, who was dangling the hugemask in his hand, and fast recovering from the effects of his fright. "Depend on it, I won't put myself in such a perdicament again, Tom. No, no--no more playing the devil; for, egad! you had liked to have playedthe devil with me. "

"A joke's a joke, " sagely remarked Tom, picking up his hat and fowlingpiece. 

"True!" replied Smith; "but, I think, after all, I had the greatest causefor being in a fright. You had the best chance, at any rate; for I couldnot have harmed you, whereas you might have made a riddle of me. "

"Stay, there!" answered Tom; "I can tell you, you had as little cause forfear as I had, you come to that; for the truth is, the deuce a bit ofpowder or shot either was there in the piece!"

"You don't say so!" said Jim, evidently disappointed and chop-fallen atthis discovery of his groundless fears. "Well, I only wish I'd known it, that's all!"--then, cogitating inwardly for a minute, he continued--"but, I say, Tom, you won't mention this little fright of yours?"

"No; but I'll mention the great fright--of Jim Smith--rely upon it, " saidTom, firmly; and he kept his word so faithfully, that the next day thewhole story was circulated, with many ingenious additions, to the greatannoyance of the practical joker. 

FISHING FOR WHITING AT MARGATE. 

"Here we go up--up--up;And here we go down--down--down. "

"Variety, " as Cowper says, "is the very spice of life"--and certainly, atMargate, there is enough, in all conscience, to delight the mostfastidious of pleasure-hunters. 

There sailors ply for passengers for a trip in their pleasure boats, setting forth all the tempting delights of a fine breeze--and woe-betidethe unfortunate cockney who gets in the clutches of a pair of plyers ofthis sort, for he becomes as fixed as if he were actually in a vice, frequently making a virtue of necessity, and stepping on board, when hehad much better stroll on land. 

Away he goes, on the wings of the wind, like--a gull! Should he be aknave, it may probably be of infinite service to society, for he islikely ever afterwards to forswear craft of any kind!

Donkies too abound, as they do in most watering placesand, oh! what amany asses have we seen mounted, trotting along the beach and cliffs!

The insinuating address of the boatmen is, however, irresistible; and ifthey cannot induce you to make a sail to catch the wind, they will setforth, in all the glowing colors of a dying dolphin, the pleasurablesport of catching fish!

They tell you of a gentleman, who, "the other day, pulled up, in a singlehour, I don't know how many fish, weighing I don't know how much. " Andthus baited, some unwise gentleman unfortunately nibbles, and he iscaught. A bargain is struck, 'the boat is on the shore, ' the lines andhooks are displayed, and the victim steps in, scarcely conscious of whathe is about, but full well knowing that he is going to sea!

They put out to sea, and casting their baited hooks, the experiencedfisherman soon pulls up a fine lively whiting. 

"Ecod!" exclaims the cockney, with dilated optics, "this is fine--whythat 'ere fish is worth a matter of a shilling in London--Do tell me howyou cotched him. "

"With a hook!" replied the boatman. 

"To be sure you did--but why did'nt he bite mine?"

"'Cause he came t'other side, I s'pose. "

"Vell, let me try that side then, " cries the tyro, and carefully changeshis position. --"Dear me, this here boat o'yourn wobbles about rayther, mister. "

"Nothing, sir, at all; it's only the motion of the water. "

"I don't like it, tho'; I can tell you, it makes me feel all oversomehow. "

"It will go off, sir, in time; there's another, " and he pulls in anotherwriggling fish, and casts him at the bottom of the boat. "Well, that'splaguey tiresome, any how--two! and I've cotched nothin' yet--how do youdo it?"

"Just so--throw in your hook, and bide a bit--and you'll be sure, sir, tofeel when there's any thing on your hook; don't you feel any thing yet?"

"Why, yes, I feels werry unwell!" cries the landsman; and, bringing uphis hook and bait, requests the good-natured boatman to pull for shore, 'like vinkin, '--which request; the obliging fellow immediately complieswith, having agreeably fished at the expense of his fare; and, landinghis whitings and the flat, laughs in his sleeve at the qualms of hiscustomer. 

But there is always an abundant crop of such fools as he, who pretend todabble in a science, in utter ignorance of the elements; while, likeJason of old, the wily boatman finds a sheep with a goldenfleece, --although his brains are always too much on the alert to be whatis technically termed--wool-gathering. Some people are desirous ofseeing every thing; and many landsmen have yet to learn, that they maysee a deal, without being a-board!

ANDREW MULLINS. --AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

CHAPTER I. --Introductory. 

"Let the neighbors smell ve has something respectable for once. "

There is certainly no style of writing requiring so much modest assuranceas autobiography; a position which, I am confident, neither LordCherbury, nor Vidocq, or any other mortal blessed with an equaldevelopement of the organ of self-esteem, can or could deny. 

HOME, ("sweet home, ")--in his Douglas--gives, perhaps, one of the mostconcise and concentrated specimens extant, of this species ofcomposition. With what an imposing air does his youthful hero blow hisown trumpet in those well-known lines, commencing, "My name is Norval. "

Although a mere cock-boat in comparison with these first-rates, I think Imay safely follow in their wake. Should the critics, however, condescendto carp at me for likening myself to a cock-boat, I have no objection, ifby a twist of their ingenuity, they can prove me to be a little funny!

Economy was one of the most prominent characteristics of the family fromwhich I sprang. Now, some authors would weary their indulgent readerswith a flatulent chapter upon the moral beauty of this virtue; but as myfirst wish is to win favor by my candor, I must honestly confess, thatnecessity was the parent of this lean attenuated offspring!--For, alas!

My 'angel mother, ' (as Anna Maria phrases it, ) was a woman of tenthousand, for she dwelt in one of the most populous districts of London!My sire, was of the most noble order of St. Crispin; and though he hadmany faults, was continually mending--being the most eminent cobbler inthe neighbourhood. 

Even in the outset of their connubial partnership, they started under themost favorable auspices--for, whereas other couples marry for love ormoney, they got married for 'nothing' taking advantage of the annualgratuitous splicings performed at Shoreditch Church on one sunshinyEaster Monday. 

In less than three years my amiable mother presented her lord and masterwith as many interesting pledges of their affection--I was the cobbler'slast--and

'Though last, not least, in their dear love. '

CHAPTER II. --Our Lodging. 

Our precarious means were too small to permit us to rent a house, wetherefore rented one large room, which served us for--

"Parlor and kitchen and all!"

in the uppermost story of a house, containing about a dozen families. 

This 'airy' apartment was situated in a narrow alley of greatthoroughfare, in the heart of the great metropolis. 

The lower part of this domicile was occupied by one James, who did'porter's work, ' while his wife superintended the trade of amiscellaneous store, called a green-grocer's; although the stockcomprised, besides a respectable skew of cabbages, carrots, lettuces, andother things in season, a barrel of small beer, a side of bacon, a fewred herrings, a black looking can of 'new milk, ' and those lessperishable articles, Warren's blacking, and Flanders' bricks; while thewindow was graced with a few samples of common confectionary, celebratedunder the sweet names of lollypops, Buonaparte's ribs, and bulls'-eyes. 

In one pane, by permission, was placed the sign board of my honoredparent, informing the reading public, that

'Repairs were neatly executed!'

In my mind's eye how distinctly do I behold that humble shop in all thegreenness and beauty of its Saturday morning's display. 

Nor can I ever forget the kind dumpy motherly Mrs. James, who so oftenpatted my curly head, and presented me with a welcome slice of bread andbutter and a drink of milk, invariably repeating in her homely phrase, "achild and a chicken is al'ays a pickin'"--and declaring her belief, thatthe 'brat' got scarcely enough to "keep life and soul together"--the realtruth of which my craving stomach inwardly testified. 

Talk of the charities of the wealthy, they are as 'airy nothings' in thescale, compared with the unostentatious sympathy of the poor! The formeronly give a portion of their excess, while the latter willingly dividetheir humble crust with a fellow sufferer. 

The agreeable routine of breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper, was unknownin our frugal establishment; if we obtained one good meal a day, underany name, we were truly thankful. 

To give some idea of our straitened circumstances, I must relate onesolitary instance of display on the maternal side. It was on a Saturdaynight, the air and our appetites were equally keen, when my sire, havingunexpectedly touched a small sum, brought home a couple of pound of realEpping. A scream of delight welcomed the savory morsel. 

A fire was kindled, and the meat was presently hissing in the borrowedfrying-pan of our landlady. 

I was already in bed, when the unusual sound and savor awoke me. Irolled out in a twinkling, and squatting on the floor, watched theculinary operations with greedy eyes. 

"Tom, " said my mother, addressing her spouse, "set open the door andvinder, and let the neighbors smell ve has something respectable foronce. "

CHAPTER. III. --On Temperance. 

"I wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly; but I've a blessed mind to turnher out!"

Armed with the authority and example of loyalty, for even that renownedmonarch--Old King Cole--was diurnally want to call for

"His pipe and his glass"

and induced by the poetical strains of many a bard, from the classicAnacreon to those of more modern times, who have celebrated the virtue of

"Wine, mighty wine!"

it is not to be marvelled at, that men's minds have fallen victims to thefascinations of the juice of the purple grape, or yielded to the alluringtemptations of the 'evil spirit. '

It is a lamentable truth, that notwithstanding the laudable and wholesomeexertions and admonitions of the Temperance and Tee-total Societies, thatthe people of the United Kingdom are grievously addicted to an excessiveimbibation of spirituous liquors, cordials, and compounds. 

Although six-bottle men are now regarded as monstrosities, and drinkingparties are nearly exploded, tippling and dram-drinking among the lowerorders are perhaps more indulged in than ever. 

The gilded and gorgeous temples--devoted to the worship of thereeling-goddess GENEVA--blaze forth in every quarter of the vastmetropolis. 

Is it matter of wonder, then, that while men of superior intellect andeducation are still weak enough to seek excitement in vinous potations, that the vulgar, poor, and destitute, should endeavour to drown theirsorrows by swallowing the liquid fires displayed under various names, bythe wily priests of Silenus!

That such a deduction is illogical we are well aware, but great examplesare plausible excuses to little minds. 

Both my parents were naturally inclined to sobriety; but, unfortunately, and as it too frequently happens, in low and crowded neighbourhoods, drunkenness is as contagious as the small-pox, or any other destructivemalady. 

Now, it chanced that in the first-floor of the house in which we dwelt, there also resided one Stubbs and his wife. They had neither chick norchild. Stubbs was a tailor by trade, and being a first-rate workman, earned weekly a considerable sum; but, like too many of his fraternity, he was seldom sober from Saturday night until Wednesday morning. Hisloving spouse 'rowed in the same boat'--and the 'little green-bottle' wasdispatched several times during the days of their Saturnalia, to bereplenished at the never-failing fountain of the 'Shepherd and Flock. '

Unhappily, in one of her maudlin fits, Mrs. Stubbs took a particularfancy to my mother; and one day, in the absence of the 'ninth, ' beckonedmy unsuspecting parent into her sittingroom, --and after gratuitouslyimparting to her the hum-drum history of her domestic squabbles, invitedher to take a 'drop o' summat'--to keep up her I sperrits. '

Alas! this was the first step--and she went on, and on, and on, untilthat which at first she loathed became no longer disagreeable, and bydegrees grew into a craving that was irresistible;--and, at last, sheregularly hob-and-nobb'd' with the disconsolate rib of Stubbs, and sharedalike in all her troubles and her liquor. 

Fain would I draw a veil over this frailty of my unfortunate parent; but, being conscious that veracity is the very soul and essence of history, Ifeel myself imperatively called upon neither to disguise nor to cancelthe truth. 

My father remonstrated in vain-the passion had already taken too deep ahold; and one day he was suddenly summoned from his work with thestartling information, that 'Mother Mullins'--(so the kind neighbourphrased it) was sitting on the step of a public house, in the suburbs, completely 'tosticated. '

He rushed out, and found the tale too true. A bricklayer in theneighbourhood proposed the loan of his barrow, for the poor senselesscreature could not walk a step. Placing her in the one-wheel-carriage, he made the best of his way home, amid the jeers of the multitude. Moorfields was then only partially covered with houses; and as he passeda deep hollow, on the side of which was placed a notice, intimating that

"RUBBISH MAY BE SHOT HERE!"

his eyes caught the words, and in the bitterness of his heart heexclaimed--

"I wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly; but I've a blessed mind to turnher out!"

CHAPTER IV. --A Situation. 

"I say, Jim, what birds are we most like now?" "Why swallows, to besure, "

In the vicinity of our alley were numerous horse-rides, and my chiefdelight was being entrusted with a horse, and galloping up and down thestraw-littered avenue. --I was about twelve years of age, and what wastermed a sharp lad, and I soon became a great favourite with the ostlers, who admired the aptness with which I acquired the language of thestables. 

There were many stock-brokers who put up at the ride; among others wasMr. Timmis--familiarly called long Jim Timmis. He was a bold, dashing, good-humoured, vulgar man, who was quite at home with the ostlers, generally conversing with them in their favourite lingo. 

I had frequent opportunities of shewing him civilities, handing him hiswhip, and holding his stirrup, etc. 

One day he came to the ride in a most amiable and condescending humour, and for the first time deigned to address me--"Whose kid are you?"demanded he. 

"Father's, sir, " I replied. 

"Do you know your father, then?"

"Yes, sir. "

"A wise child this;" and he winked at the ostler, who, of course, laughedincontinently. 

"I want a-lad, " continued he; "what do you say--would you like to serveme?"

"If I could get any thing by it. "

"D-me, if that a'int blunt. "

"Yes, sir; that's what I mean. "

"Mean! mean what?"

"If I could get any blunt, sir. "

Hereupon he laughed outright, at what he considered my readiness, although I merely used the cant term for "money, " to which I was mostaccustomed, from my education among the schoolmasters of the ride. 

"Here, take my card, " said he; "and tell the old codger, your father, tobring you to my office to-morrow morning, at eleven. "

"Well, blow me, " exclaimed my friend the ostler, "if your fortin' arn'tmade; I shall see you a tip-top sawyer--may I never touch another tanner!Vy, I remembers Jim Timmis hisself vos nothin but a grubby boy--MotherTimmis the washer-woman's son, here in what-d've-call-'em-court--ven hevent to old Jarvis fust. He's a prime feller tho', and no mistake--andthof he's no gentleman born, he pays like one, and vot's the difference?"

The next morning, punctual to the hour, I waited at his office, which wasin a large building adjoining the Stock Exchange, as full as a dove-cot, with gentlemen of the same feather. 

"O!" said he, eyeing my parent, "and you're this chap's father, are you?What are you?"

"A boot and shoe-maker, sir; and my Andrew is an honest lad. "

"For the matter o' that, there's little he can prig here;" replied myelegant and intended master. "But his tongs--eh--old fellow--can't yourig him out a little?"

My father pleaded poverty; and at last he bargained to advance a guinea, and deduct it out of my weekly-wages of two and sixpence, and no board. My father was glad to make any terms, and the affair was consequentlysoon arranged. I was quickly fitted out, and the next morning attendedhis orders. 

I had, however, little else to do than wait in his office, and run to theStock Exchange, to summon him when a customer dropped in. I had muchleisure, which I trust was not wholly thrown away, for I practisedwriting on the back of the stock-receipts, of which a quantity hung up inthe office, and read all the books I could lay my hands on; although, Imust confess, the chief portion of my knowledge of the world has beenderived from observation. 

"The proper study of mankind is man. "

Although quick in temper, and rude in speech and manners, Timmis waskind; and, if he had a failing, it was the ambition of being a patron;and he was certainly not one of those who do a good deed, and

"Blush to find it fame. "

He not only employed my father to make his boots, but recommended him toall his friends as a "good-fit, " and procured the old man some excellentcustomers. Among his acquaintance, for he had few friends, was TomWallis, a fat, facetious man, about forty, with whom he was alwayslunching and cracking his jokes. One day, when the stocks were "shut"and business was slack, they started together on a sporting excursiontowards the romantic region of Hornsey-wood, on which occasion I had thehonour of carrying a well-filled basket of provisions, and the inwardsatisfaction of making a good dinner from the remnants. 

They killed nothing but time, yet they were exceedingly merry, especiallyduring the discussion of the provisions. Their laughter, indeed, wasenough to scare all the birds in the neighbourhood. 

"Jim, if you wanted to correct those sheep yonder, " said Tom, "what sortof tool would you use?"

"An ewe-twig, of course, " replied my master. 

"No; that's devilish good, " said Wallis; "but you ain't hit it yet. "

"For a crown you don't do a better?"

"Done!"

"Well, what is it?"

"Why, a Ram-rod to be sure--as we're sportsmen. "

My master agreed that it was more appropriate, and the good-natured TomWallis flung the crown he had won to me. 

"Here's another, " continued he, as Mr. Timmis was just raising a bottleof pale sherry to his lips--"I say, Jim, what birds are we most likenow?"

"Why swallows, to be sure, " quickly replied my patron; who was really, onmost occasions, a match for his croney in the sublime art of punning, andmaking conundrums, a favourite pastime with the wits of the StockExchange. 

CHAPTER V. --The Stalking Horse. 

"Retributive Justice"

On the same landing where Timmis (as he termed it) 'held out, ' were fiveor six closets nick-named offices, and three other boys. One was thenephew of the before-mentioned Wallis, and a very imp of mischief;another, only a boy, with nothing remarkable but his stupidity; while thefourth was a scrubby, stunted, fellow, about sixteen or seventeen yearsof age, with a long pale face, deeply pitted with the small-pox, and anirregular crop of light hair, most unscientifically cut into tufts. 

He, by reason of his seniority and his gravity, soon became the oracle ofthe party. We usually found him seated on the stairs of the first floor, lost in the perusal of some ragged book of the marvellous school--scrapsof which he used to read aloud to us, with more unction than propriety, indulging rather too much in the note of admiration style; for which hesoon obtained the name of Old Emphatic!--But I must confess we did obtaina great deal of information from his select reading, and were tolerablygood listeners too, notwithstanding his peculiar delivery, for somehow heappeared to have a permanent cold in his head, which sometimes threw atone of irresistible ridicule into his most pathetic bits. 

He bore the scriptural name of Matthew and was, as he informed us, a'horphan'--adding, with a particular pathos, 'without father or mother!'His melancholy was, I think, rather attributable to bile thandestitution, which he superinduced by feeding almost entirely on'second-hand pastry, ' purchased from the little Jew-boys, who hawk abouttheir 'tempting' trash in the vicinity of the Bank. 

Matthew, like other youths of a poetical temperament, from Petrarch downto Lord Byron, had a 'passion. '

I accidentally discovered the object of his platonic flame in the personof the little grubby-girl--the servant of the house-keeper--for, as theproverb truly says, "Love and a cough cannot be hid. "

The tender passion first evinced itself in his delicate attentions;--norwas the quick-eyed maid slow to discover her conquest. Her penetration, however, was greater than her sympathy. With a tact that would not havedisgraced a politician--in a better cause, she adroitly turned theswelling current of his love to her own purposes. 

As the onward flowing stream is made to turn the wheel, while the millersings at the window, so did she avail herself of his strength to do herwork, while she gaily hummed a time, and sadly 'hummed' poor Matthew. 

There being nearly thirty offices in the building, there were of coursein winter as many fires, and as many coal-scuttles required. When theeyes of the devoted Matthew gazed on the object of his heart's desiretoiling up the well-stair, he felt he knew not what; and, with a heartpalpitating with the apprehension that his proffered service might berejected (poor deluded mortal!), he begged he might assist her. With aglance that he thought sufficient to ignite the insensible carbon, sheaccepted his offer. Happy Matthew!--he grasped the handles her warmred-hands had touched!--Cold-blooded, unimaginative beings may deride hisenthusiasm; but after all, the sentiment he experienced was similar to, and quite as pure, as that of Tom Jones, when he fondled Sophia Western'slittle muff. 

But, alas!--

"The course of true love never did run smooth. "

Two months after this event, 'his Mary' married the baker's man!--

 * * * * * * * * * *

Wallis's nephew had several times invited me to pay him a visit at hisuncle's house, at Crouchend; and so once, during the absence of thatgentleman who was ruralizing at Tonbridge, I trudged down to his villa. 

Nothing would suit Master John, but that he must 'have out' his uncle'sgun; and we certainly shot at, and frightened, many sparrows. 

He was just pointing at a fresh quarry, when the loud crow of a cockarrested his arm. 

"That's Doddington's game 'un, I know, " said Master John. "What d'yethink--if he did'nt 'pitch into' our 'dunghill' the other day, and laidhim dead at a blow. I owe him one!--Come along. " I followed in hisfootsteps, and soon beheld Chanticleer crowing with all the ostentationof a victor at the hens he had so ruthlessly widowed. A clothes-horse, with a ragged blanket, screened us from his view; and Master'John, putting the muzzle of his gun through a hole in this novel ambuscade, discharged its contents point blank into the proclaimer of the morn--andlaid him low. 

I trembled; for I felt that we had committed a 'foul murder. ' MasterJohnny, however, derided my fears--called it retributive justice--andignominiously consigned the remains of a game-cock to a dunghill!

The affair appeared so like a cowardly assassination, in which I was(though unwillingly--) 'particeps criminis'--that I walked away withoutpartaking of the gooseberry-pie, which he had provided for our supper. 

CHAPTER VI. --A Commission. 

"Och! thin, Paddy, what's the bothuration; if you carry me, don't I carrythe whiskey, sure, and that's fair and aqual!"

I was early at my post on the following morning, being particularlyanxious to meet with Mr. Wallis's scapegrace nephew, and ascertainwhether anybody had found the dead body of the game-cock, and whether aninquest had been held; for I knew enough of the world to draw my ownconclusions as to the result. He, although the principal, being arelative, would get off with a lecture, while I should probably be kickedout of my place. 

In a fever of expectation, I hung over the banisters of the geometricalstaircase, watching for his arrival. 

While I was thus occupied, my nerves "screwed up, "--almost to cracking, Mr. Wallis's office-door was thrown open, and I beheld that verygentleman's round, pleasant physiognomy, embrowned by his travels, staring me full in the face. I really lost my equilibrium at theapparition. 

"Oh!--it's you, is it, " cried he. "Where's my rascal?"

"He's not come yet, sir, " I replied. 

"That fellow's never at hand when I want him--I'll cashier him by ____. "He slammed to his own door, and--opened it again immediately. 

"Timmis come?" demanded he. 

"No, sir; I don't think he'll be here for an hour. "

"True--I'm early in the field; but what brings you here so soon?--somemischief, I suppose. "

"I'm always early, sir, for I live hard by. "

"Ha!--well--I wish--. "

"Can I do anything for you, sir?" I enquired. 

"Why, that's a good thought, " said he, and his countenance assumed itsusually bland expression. "Let me see--I want to send my carpet-bag, anda message, to my housekeeper. "

"I can do it, sir, and be back again in no time, " cried I, elated athaving an opportunity of obliging the man whom I had really some cause tofear, in the critical situation in which his nephew's thoughtlessness hadplaced me. 

In my eagerness, however, and notwithstanding the political acuteness ofmy manoeuvre, I got myself into an awful dilemma. Having received thebag, and his message, I walked off, but had scarcely descended a dozenstairs when he recalled me. 

"Where the devil are you going?" cried he. 

"To your house, sir, " I innocently replied. 

"What, do you know it, then?" demanded he in surprise. 

Here was a position. It was a miracle that I did not roll over thecarpet-bag and break my neck, in the confusion of ideas engendered bythis simple query. 

I could not lie, and evasion was not my forte. A man or boy in the wrongcan never express himself with propriety; an opinion in which Quinctilianalso appears to coincide, when he asserts--

"Orator perfectus nisi vir bonus esse non potest. "

I therefore summoned up sufficient breath and courage to answer him inthe affirmative. 

"And when, pray, were you there?" said he. 

"Yesterday, sir, your nephew asked me to come and see him. "

"The impudent little blackguard?" cried he. 

"I hope you ain't angry, sir?"

"Angry with you?--no, my lad; you're an active little chap, and I wishthat imp of mine would take a pattern by you. Trot along, and mind youhave 'a lift' both ways. "

Off I went, as light as a balloon when the ropes are cut. 

I executed my commission with dispatch, and completely won the favour ofMr. Wallis, by returning the money which he had given me for coach-hire. 

"How's this?--you didn't tramp, did you?" said he. 

"No, sir, I rode both ways, " I replied; "but I knew the coachmen, andthey gave me a cast for nothing. "

"Umph!--well, that's quite proper--quite proper, " said he, considering amoment. "Honesty's the best policy. "

"Father always told me so, sir. "

"Your father's right;--there's half-a-crown for you. "

I was delighted--

"Quantum cedat virtutibus aurum;"

and I felt the truth of this line of Dr. Johnson's, although I was thenignorant of it. I met his nephew on the landing, but my fears hadvanished. We talked, however, of the departed bird, and he wished me, inthe event of discovery, to declare that I had loaded and carried the gun, and that he would bear the rest of the blame. 

This, however, strongly reminded me of the two Irish smugglers:--one hada wooden leg, and carried the cask; while his comrade, who had the use ofboth his pins, bore him upon his shoulders, and, complaining of theweight, the other replied:--"Och! thin, Paddy, what's the bothuration; ifyou carry me, don't I carry the whiskey, sure, and that's fair andaqual!" and I at once declined any such Hibernian partnership in theaffair, quite resolved that he should bear the whole onus upon his ownshoulders. 

CHAPTER, VII. --The Cricket Match

"Out! so don't fatigue yourself, I beg, sir. "

I soon discovered that my conduct had been reported in the mostfavourable colours to Mr. Timmis, and the consequence was that he beganto take more notice of me. 

"Andrew, what sort of a fist can you write?" demanded he. I shewed himsome caligraphic specimens. 

"D___ me, if your y's and your g's hav'nt tails like skippingropes. Wemust have a little topping and tailing here, and I think you'll do. Here, make out this account, and enter it in the book. "

He left me to do his bidding; and when he returned from theStock-Exchange, inspected the performance, which I had executed withperspiring ardour. 

I watched his countenance. "That'll do--you're a brick! I'll make a manof you--d___ me. "

From this day forward I had the honour of keeping his books, and makingout the accounts. I was already a person of importance, and certainlysome steps above the boys on the landing. 

I did not, however, obtain any advance in my weekly wages; but on"good-days" got a douceur, varying from half a crown to half a sovereign!and looked upon myself as a made man. Most of the receipts went to myfather; whatever he returned to me I spent at a neighbouring book-stall, and in the course of twelve months I possessed a library of most amusingand instructive literature, --Heaven knows! of a most miscellaneouscharacter, for I had no one to guide me in the selection. 

Among Mr. Timmis's numerous clients, was one Mr. Cornelius Crobble, a manof most extraordinary dimensions; he was also a "chum" of, and frequentlymade one of a party with, his friend Mr. Wallis, and other croneys, towhite-bait dinners at Blackwall, and other intellectual banquets. Infact, he seldom made his appearance at the office, but the visit ended inan engagement to dine at some "crack-house" or other. The cost of the"feed, " as Mr. Timmis termed it, was generally decided by a toss of "besttwo and three;" and somehow it invariably happened that Mr. Crobble lost;but he was so good-humoured, that really it was a pleasure, as Mr. Wallissaid, to "grub" at his expense. 

They nick-named him Maximo Rotundo--and he well deserved the title. 

"Where's Timmis?" said he, one day after he had taken a seat, and puffedand blowed for the space of five minutes--"Cuss them stairs; they'll bethe death o' me. "

I ran to summon my master. 

"How are you, old fellow?" demanded Mr. Timmis; "tip us your fin. "

"Queer!" replied Mr. Crobble, --tapping his breast gently with his fatfist, and puffing out his cheeks--to indicate that his lungs weredisordered. 

"What, bellows to mend?" cried my accomplished patron--"D___ me, neversay die!"

"Just come from Doctor Sprawles: says I must take exercise; no maltliquor--nothing at breakfast--no lunch--no supper. "

"Why, you'll be a skeleton--a transfer from the consolidated to thereduced in no time, " exclaimed Mr. Timmis; and his friend joined in thelaugh. 

"I was a-thinking, Timmis--don't you belong to a cricketclub?"

"To be sure. "

--"Of joining you. "

"That's the ticket, " cried Timmis--"consider yourself elected; I cancarry any thing there. I'm quite the cock of the walk, and no mistake. Next Thursday's a field-day--I'll introduce you. Lord! you'll soon beright as a trivet. "

Mr Wallis was summoned, and the affair was soon arranged; and I had thegratification of being present at Mr. Crobble's inauguration. 

It was a broiling day, and there was a full field; but he conductedhimself manfully, notwithstanding the jokes of the club. He battedexceedingly well, "considering, " as Mr. Wallis remarked; but as for the"runs, " he was completely at fault. 

He only attempted it once; but before he had advanced a yard or two, theball was caught; and the agile player, striking the wicket with ease, exclaimed, amid the laughter of the spectators--"Out! so don't fatigueyourself, I beg, sir. "

And so the match was concluded, amid cheers and shouting, in which therotund, good-natured novice joined most heartily. 

CHAPTER VIII. --The Hunter. 

"Hunting may be sport, says I, but I'm blest if its pleasure. "

Two days after the cricket-match, Mr. Crobble paid a visit to my master. 

"Well, old fellow, d___ me me, if you ain't a trump--how's your wind?"--kindly enquired Mr. Timmis. 

"Vastly better, thank'ye; how's Wallis and the other fellows?--primesport that cricketing. "

"Yes; but, I say, you'll never have 'a run' of luck, if you stick to thewicket so. "

"True; but I made a hit or two, you must allow, " replied Mr. Crobble;"though I'm afraid I'm a sorry member. "

"A member, indeed!--no, no; you're the body, and we're the--members, "replied Mr. Timmis, laughing; "but, halloo! what's that patch on yourforehead--bin a fighting?"

"No; but I've been a hunting, " said Mr. Crobble, "and this here's thefruits--You know my gray?"

"The nag you swopp'd the bay roadster for with Tom Brown?"

"Him, " answered Crobble. "Well, I took him to Hertfordshire Wednesdaylast--"

"He took you, you mean. "

"Well, what's the odds?"

"The odds, why, in your favour, to be sure, as I dare say the horse canwitness. "

"Well, howsomever, there was a good field--and off we went. The levelcountry was all prime; but he took a hedge, and nearly julked all thelife out o' me. I lost my stirrup, and should have lost my seat, had'ntI clutched his mane--"

"And kept your seat by main force?"

"Very good. "

"Well, away we went, like Johnny Gilpin. Hunting may be sport, says I, but I'm blest if its pleasure. This infernal horse was always fond ofshying, and now he's going to shy me off; and, ecod! no sooner said thandone. Over his head I go, like a rocket. "

"Like a foot-ball, you mean, " interrupted Mr. Timmis. 

"And, as luck would have it, tumbles into a ditch, plump with my headagin the bank. "

"By jingo! such a 'run' upon the bank was enough to break it, " cried mymaster, whose propensity to crack a joke overcame all feeling of sympathyfor his friend. 

"It broke my head though; and warn't I in a precious mess--that's all--upto my neck, and no mistake--and black as a chimney-sweep--such mud!"

"And only think of a man of your property investing his substance in mud!That is a good 'un!--Andrew, " said he, "tell Wally to come here. " Isummoned his crony, and sat myself down to the books, to enjoy thesportive sallies of the two friends, who roasted the 'fat buck, ' theirloving companion, most unmercifully. 

"You sly old badger, " cried Wallis, "why, you must have picked out theditch. "

"No, but they picked out me, and a precious figure I cut--I can tell you--I was dripping from top to toe. "

"Very like dripping, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Timmis, eyeing his fatfriend, and bursting into an immoderate fit of laughter. The meetingended, as usual, with a bet for a dinner at the "Plough" for themselvesand their friends, which Mr. Crobble lost--as usual. 

CHAPTER IX. --A Row to Blackwall. 

'To be sold, warranted sound, a gray-mare, very fast, and carries a lady;likewise a bay-cob, quiet to ride or drive, and has carried a lady. '

Steam-boats did not run to Greenwich and Blackwall at this period; andthose who resorted to the white-bait establishments at those places, either availed themselves of a coach or a boat. Being now transformed, by a little personal merit, and a great favour, from a full-grownerrand-boy to a small clerk, Mr. Timmis, at the suggestion of my goodfriend Mr. Wallis, offered me, as a treat, a row in the boat they hadengaged for the occasion; which, as a matter of course, I did not refuse:making myself as spruce as my limited wardrobe would permit, I trotted attheir heels to the foot of London-bridge, the point of embarkation. 

The party, including the boatman, consisted of eight souls; the tide wasin our favour, and away we went, as merry a company as ever floated onthe bosom of Father Thames. Mr. Crobble was the chief mark for all theirsallies, and indeed he really appeared, from his size, to have beenintended by Nature for a "butt, " as Mr. Wallis wickedly remarked. 

"You told, me, Crobble, of your hunting exploit in Hertfordshire, " saidMr. Wallis; "I'll tell you something as bangs that hollow; I'm sure Ithought I should have split with laughter when I heard of it. You knowthe old frump, my Aunt Betty, Timmis?"

"To be sure--she with the ten thousand in the threes, " replied Mr. Timmis; "a worthy creature; and I'm sure you admire her principal. "

"Don't I, " cried Wallis; and he winked significantly at his friend. 

"Well, what d'ye think; she, and Miss Scragg, her toady, were in thecountry t'other day, and must needs amuse themselves in an airing upon acouple of prads. 

"Well; they were cantering along--doing the handsome--and had just cometo the border of a pond, when a donkey pops his innocent nose over afence in their rear, and began to heehaw' in a most melodious strain. The nags pricked up their ears in a twinkling, and made no more ado butbolted. Poor aunty tugged! but all in vain; her bay-cob ran into thewater; and she lost both her presence of mind and her seat, and plumpedswash into the pond--her riding habit spreading out into a beautifulcircle--while she lay squalling and bawling out in the centre, like alittle piece of beef in the middle of a large batter-pudding! MissScragg, meanwhile, stuck to her graymare, and went bumping along to theadmiration of all beholders, and was soon out of sight: luckily a joskin, who witnessed my dear aunt's immersion, ran to her assistance, and, withthe help of his pitch-fork, safely landed her; for unfortunately the pondwas not above three or four feet deep! and so she missed the chance ofbeing an angel!"

"And you the transfer of her threes!--what a pity!" said the sympathizingMr. Timmis. 

"When I heard of the accident, of course, as in duty bound, I wrote ananxious letter of affectionate enquiry and condolence. At the sameperiod, seeing an advertisement in the Times--'To be sold, warrantedsound, a gray-mare, very fast, and carries a lady; likewise a bay-cob, quiet to ride or drive, and has carried a lady'--I was so tickled withthe co-incidence, that I cut it out, and sent it to her in an envelope. "

"Prime! by Jove!"--shouted Mr. Crobble--"But, I say, Wallis--you shouldhave sent her a 'duck' too, as a symbolical memorial of her accident!"

CHAPTER X. --The Pic-Nic. 

--had just spread out their prog on a clean table-cloth, when they werealarmed by the approach of a cow. 

"People should never undertake to do a thing they don't perfectlyunderstand, " remarked Mr. Crobble, "they're sure to make fools o'themselves in the end. There's Tom Davis, (you know Tom Davis?) he'salways putting his notions into people's heads, and turning the laughagainst 'em. If there's a ditch in the way, he's sure to dare some ofhis companions to leap it, before he overs it himself; if he finds itsafe, away he springs like a greyhound. "

"Exactly him, I know him, " replied Mr. Timmis; "that's what he callslearning to shave upon other people's chins!"

"Excellent!" exclaimed Mr. Wallis. 

"He's a very devil, " continued Mr. Crobble; "always proposing some fun orother: Pic-nics are his delight; but he always leaves others to bring thegrub, and brings nothing but himself. I hate Pic-nics, squatting in thegrass don't suit me at all; when once down, I find it no easy matter toget up again, I can tell you. "

Hereupon there was a general laugh. 

"Talking of Pic-nics, " said Mr. Timmis, "reminds me of one that was heldthe other day in a meadow, on the banks of the Lea. The party, consisting of ladies only, and a little boy, had just spread out theirprog on a clean table-cloth, when they were alarmed by the approach of acow. They were presently on their pins, (cow'd, of course, ) and sheeredoff to a respectful distance, while the cow walked leisurely over thetable-cloth, smelling the materials of the feast, and popp'd her clovenfoot plump into a currant and raspberry pie! and they had a precious dealof trouble to draw her off; for, as Tom Davis said, there were someveal-patties there, which were, no doubt, made out of one of her calves;and in her maternal solicitude, she completely demolished the plates anddishes, leaving the affrighted party nothing more than the brokenvictuals. "

"What a lark!" exclaimed Mr. Crobble; "I would have given a guinea tohave witnessed the fun. That cow was a trojan!"

"A star in the milky way, " cried Mr. Wallis. 

We now approached the 'Plough;' and Mr. Crobble having 'satisfied' theboatman, Mr. Wallis gave me half-a-crown, and bade me make the best of myway home. I pocketed the money, and resolved to 'go on the highway, ' andtrudge on foot. 

"Andrew, " said my worthy patron, "now don't go and make a beast ofyourself, but walk straight home. "

"Andrew, " said Mr. Wallis, imitating his friend's tone of admonition; "ifany body asks you to treat 'em, bolt; if any body offers to treat you, retreat!"

"Andrew, " said Mr. Crobble, who was determined to put in his oar, and rowin the same boat as his friends; "Andrew, "--"Yes, Sir;" and I touched myhat with due respect, while his two friends bent forward to catch hiswords. "Andrew, " repeated he, for the third time, "avoid evilcommunication, and get thee gone from Blackwall, as fast as your legs cancarry you--for, there's villainous bad company just landed here--wickedenough to spoil even the immaculate Mr. Cornelius Crobble!"

CHAPTER XI. --The Journey Home. 

"Starboard, Tom, starboard!"--"Aye, aye-starboard it is!"

I found myself quite in a strange land upon parting with my master andhis friends. It was war-time, and the place was literally swarming withjack-tars. 

Taking to the road, for the footway was quite crowded, I soon reachedPoplar. Here a large mob impeded my progress. They appeared all movedwith extraordinary merriment. I soon distinguished the objects of theirmirth. Two sailors, mounted back to back on a cart-horse, were steeringfor Blackwall. A large horse-cloth served them as a substitute for asaddle, and the merry fellow behind held the reins; he was smoking ashort pipe, while his mate was making an observation with his spy-glass. 

"Starboard, Tom, starboard!" cried the one in front. 

"Aye, aye-starboard it is!" replied his companion, tugging at the rein. 

"Holloo, messmate! where are you bound?" bawled a sailor in the crowd. 

"To the port o' Blackwall, " replied the steersman. "But we're goingquite in the wind's eye, and I'm afeared we shan't make it to-night. "

"A queer craft. "

"Werry, " replied Tom. "Don't answer the helm at all. "

"Any grog on board?" demanded the sailor. 

"Not enough to wet the boatswain's whistle; for, da'e see, mate, there'sno room for stowage. "

"Shiver my timbers!--no grog!" exclaimed the other; "why--you'll founder. If you don't splice the main-brace, you'll not make a knot an hour. Heave to--and let's drink success to the voyage. "

"With all my heart, mate, for I'm precious krank with tacking. Larboard, Tom--larboard. "

"Aye, aye--larboard it is. "

"Now, run her right into that 'ere spirit-shop to leeward, and let's havea bowl. "

Tom tugged away, and soon "brought up" at the door of a wine-vaults. 

"Let go the anchor, " exclaimed his messmate--"that's it--coil up. "

"Here, mate--here's a picter of his royal majesty"--giving the sailoralongside a new guinea--"and now tell the steward to mix us a jorum asstiff as a nor'wester, and, let's all drink the King's health--God blesshim. "

"Hooray!" shouted the delighted mob. 

Their quondam friend soon did his bidding, bringing out a huge china-bowlfilled with grog, which was handed round to every soul within reach, andpresently dispatched;--two others followed, before they "weighed anchorand proceeded on their voyage, " cheered by the ragged multitude, amongwhom they lavishly scattered their change; and a most riotous andridiculous scramble it produced. 

I was much pleased with the novelty of the scene, and escaped from thecrowd as quickly as I conveniently could, for I was rather apprehensiveof an attempt upon my pockets. 

What strange beings are these sailors! They have no care for the morrow, but spend lavishly the hard-earned wages of their adventurous life. Toone like myself, who early knew the value of money, this thoughtlessextravagance certainly appeared unaccountable, and nearly allied tomadness; but, when I reflected that they are sometimes imprisoned in aship for years, without touching land, and frequently in peril of losingtheir lives--that they have scarcely time to scatter their wages andprize-money in the short intervals which chance offers them of mixingwith their fellow-men, my wonder changed to pity. 

"A man in a ship, " says Dr. Johnson, "is worse than a man in a jail; forthe latter has more room, better food, and commonly better company, andis in safety. "

CHAPTER XII. --Monsieur Dubois. 

"I sha'nt fight with fistesses, it's wulgar!--but if he's a mind toanything like a gemman, here's my card!"

The love-lorn Matthew had departed, no doubt unable to bear the sight ofthat staircase whose boards no longer resounded with the slip-slap of theslippers of that hypocritical beauty, "his Mary. " With him, the romanceof the landing-place, and the squad, had evaporated; and I had nosympathies, no pursuits, in common with the remaining "boys"--mynewly-acquired post, too, nearly occupied the whole of my time, while mydesire of study increased with the acquisition of books, in which all mypocket-money was expended. 

One day, my good friend, Mr. Wallis, entered the office, followed by ashort, sharp-visaged man, with a sallow complexion; he was dressed in ashabby frock, buttoned up to the throat--a rusty black silk neckerchiefsupplying the place of shirt and collar. 

He stood just within the threshold of the door, holding his napless hatin his hand. 

"Well, Wally, my buck, " cried my master, extending his hand. 

Mr. Wallis advanced close to his elbow, and spoke in a whisper; but Iobserved, by the direction of his eyes, that the subject of hiscommunication was the stranger. 

"Ha!" said Mr. Timmis, "it's all very well, Walley--but I hate allforriners;--why don't he go back to Frogland, and not come here, palminghimself upon us. It's no go--not a scuddick. They're all a parcel o'humbugs--and no mistake!"

As he uttered this gracious opinion sufficiently loud to strike upon thetympanum of the poor fellow at the door, I could perceive his dark eyesglisten, and the blood tinge his woe-begone cheeks; his lips trembledwith emotion: there was an evident struggle between offended gentility, and urgent necessity. 

Pride, however, gained the mastery; and advancing the right foot, heraised his hat, and with peculiar grace bowing to the twofriends--"Pardon, Monsieur Vallis, " said he, in tremulous accents, "I am'de trop;' permit, me to visdraw"--and instantly left the office. 

Mr. Timmis, startled by his sudden exit, looked at Mr. Wallis for anexplanation. 

"By ___!" exclaimed Mr. Wallis seriously--"you've hurt that poor fellow'sfeelings. I would sooner have given a guinea than he should have heardyou. Dubois is a gentleman; and altho' he's completely 'stumped, ' andhas'nt a place to put his head in, he's tenacious of that respect whichis due to every man, whether he happens to be at a premium, or adiscount. "

"Go it!" cried Mr. Timmis, colouring deeply at this merited reproof--"Ifthis ain't a reg'lar sermon! I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, d___me; I'm a reg'lar John Bull, and he should know better than to be poppedat my bluntness. D___ me, I wouldn't hurt a worm--you know I wouldn't, Wallis. "

There was a tone of contrition in this rambling apology that satisfiedMr. Wallis of its truth; and he immediately entered into an explanationon the Frenchman's situation. He had known him, he said, for severalyears as a tutor in the family of one of his clients, by whom he was muchrespected: a heavy loss had compelled them suddenly to reduce theirestablishment; Dubois had entreated to remain with his pupil--refused toreceive any salary--and had even served his old patron in the capacity ofa menial, adhering to him in all his misfortunes, and only parted withhim, reluctantly, at the door of the debtor's prison!

"Did he do that?" said my master; and I saw his eyes moisten at therelation. "A French mounseer do that! Game--d___ me!"--and lifting thelid of his desk, he drew out a five pound note! "Here, Wallis, tip himthis flimsey! Tell him--you know what to say--I'm no speechifier--butyou know what I mean. " I almost jumped up and hugged my master, I was soexcited. 

The next day Monsieur Dubois again made his appearance; and Mr. Wallishad the pleasure of beholding Mr. Timmis and his gallic friend on thebest terms imaginable. 

As for me, I had good cause to rejoice; for it was agreed that I shouldtake lessons in the "foreign lingo, " by way of giving him "a lift, " asMr. Timmis expressed it. I remember him with feelings of gratitude; forI owe much more than the knowledge of the language to his kindness andinstruction. 

As for Mr. Timmis, he could never sufficiently appreciate his worth, although he uniformly treated him with kindness. 

"Talk of refinement, " said he, one day, when discussing Dubois' meritswith Mr. Wallis; "I saw a bit to-day as bangs everything. A cadgersweeping a crossing fell out with a dustman. Wasn't there some spicy jawbetwixt 'em. Well, nothing would suit, but the dustman must have a go, and pitch into the cadger. 

"D___ me, what does the cove do, but he outs with a bit of dirtypasteboard, and he says, says he, 'I sha'nt fight with fistesses, it'swulgar!--but if he's a mind to anything like a gemman, here's my card!'Wasn't there a roar! I lugg'd out a bob, and flung it at the vagabondfor his wit. "

CHAPTER XIII. --My Talent Called into Active Service. 

"Ar'n't you glad you ain't a black-a-moor?"

"I should think so, " replied his sooty brother, "they're sich uglywarmints. "

Having to deliver a letter, containing an account and a stock receipt, to one of Mr. Timmis's clients, residing at the west end of the town; incrossing through one of the fashionable squares, I observed a flat-facednegro servant in livery, standing at the door of one of the houses. 

Two chimney sweepers who happened to be passing, showed their white teethin a contemptuous grin at the African. 

"Bob, " I overheard one remark, "ar'n't you glad you ain't ablack-a-moor?"

"I should think so, " replied his sooty brother, "they're sich uglywarmints. Master's daughter, wots come from boarding school! says thesight of 'ems' enough to frighten one into conwulsions!"

Alas! for the prejudice of the world! How much this ignorant remarkreminded me of my patron's unfounded hatred of all "forriners. " It wasprecisely the same sentiment, differently expressed, that actuated thethoughts and opinions of both. 

I must, however, do Mr. Timmis the justice to say, that he made ampleamends to Monsieur Dubois for the affront he had so thoughtlessly putupon the worthy Frenchman; and did all in his power to obtain him pupils. 

The consequent change in his dress and manner, his amiable conduct, andgentlemanly deportment, at last completely won upon the esteem of theboisterous broker, who swore, (for that was generally his elegant mannerof expressing his sincerity) that Dubois was a 'downright good'un;' andwere it not for his foreign accent, he should have taken him for anEnglishman born--really believing, that there was no virtue in the worldbut of English growth. 

I had now been above twelve-months in his office, and although I hadreceived but a moderate compensation for my services, yet the vastimprovement I had made (thanks to the instruction of Monsieur Dubois, )was more valuable than gold. My father also, though but scantilyfurnished with book-knowledge, had, nevertheless, the good sense toappreciate and encourage my progress; he was well aware, fromobservation, that 'knowledge is power, ' and would frequently quote theold saw, "When house, and land, and money's spent;Then larning is most excellent"--

and spared all the money he could scrape together to purchase books forme. 

One day Mr. Crobble came into the office with an open letter in his hand. "Here, "--cried he, "I've received a remittance at last from that, Germanfellow--two good bills on the first house in the city--but I can't maketop nor tail of his rigmarole. Do you know any chap among youracquaintance who can read German?"

"Not I, " replied Mr. Timmis. 

"Will you allow me, Mr. Crobble?" said I, stepping forward. "This letteris written in French, not German, Sir, " I observed. 

"What's the difference to me, Master Andrew; it might as well be in wildIrish, for the matter o' that. "

"Andrew can read the lingo, " said my master. 

"The devil he can!" exclaimed Mr. Crobble; "I dare say I shall be able tomake it out, " said I; "and if not, Monsieur Dubois will be here;to-morrow morning, and you can have it by twelve o'clock, sir. "

"Ain't that the ticket?" exclaimed Mr. Timmis, delighted at the surpriseof his friend; "you don't know how vastly clever we are, old fellow. "

Mr. Crobble, much gratified at this information, placed the letter in myhands; and, leaving me to take a lunch at Garraway's with Mr. Timmis, Ieagerly sat about my task--and luckily it was not only plainly written, but the subject-matter by no means difficult, being rather complimentarythan technical. By the time they returned, I had not only translated, but made a fair copy of it, in my best hand. 

"Come, that is clever, " said Mr. Crobble; "let me see, now, what shall Igive you?"

"Nothing, Sir, " I promptly replied; "I am Mr. Timmis's clerk--and allthat I know I owe to his kindness. "

I saw, with pleasure, that this compliment was not lost upon my master. 

Mr. Crobble was really a gentleman in feeling, and therefore did notpersist in offering me any remuneration; but as he left the office, hesaid, "I thank you, Mr. Andrew--I shall not forget your services;" anddeparted evidently much pleased with my performance. 

CHAPTER XIV. --A Dilemma. 

"EE cawnt gow back, 'cause they locks the gates, "

"Well, can we go forward, then?"--"Noa, ee cawnt, 'cause the roads areunder water;"

"EE cawnt gow back, 'cause they locks the gates, " said a bumpkin on theroad-side to a Cockney-party in a one-horse chaise. 

"Well, can we go forward, then?" demanded the anxious and weariedtraveller. 

"Noa, ee cawnt, 'cause the roads are under water;" replied the joskin, with a grin. 

This was certainly a situation more ridiculous than interesting; and Ismiled when I heard the story told, little suspecting that Fortune wouldone day throw me into a similar dilemina--so blindly do we mortals hugourselves in the supposed security of our tact and foresight. 

"How d'ye do, Mr. Andrew, " said Mr. Crobble, when he had seated himself, and sufficiently inflated his lungs, after the fatiguing operation ofmounting the stairs. 

"Where's Timmis?--tell him I want a word with him. "

I quickly summoned my patron, and followed him into the office. 

"Well, old puff and blow!" exclaimed Mr. Timmis, with his usualfamiliarity. 

"What's in the wind? Want to sell out? The fives are fallen three percent. Since Friday. All the 'Change is as busy as the devil in a highwind. "

"No--no more dabbling, Timmis, " replied Mr. Crobble; "I lost a coolhundred last account; I want a word in private with you"--and he glancedtowards me; upon which I seized my hat, and took up my position at my oldpost on the landing. How were my feelings altered since I first loiteredthere, listening to the marvels of poor Matthew!

I was lost in a pleasant reverie, when the sharp voice of Mr. Timmisrecalled me. 

"Andrew, " said he, "my friend Crobble wants a clerk, and has cast his eyeupon you. What do you say?"

I scarcely knew what to say. On one side stood my master, to whom Ireally owed so much--on the other his friend, who offered me a promotion, which I felt, on many accounts, was most attractive. "I should have noobjection, " I replied, "but great pleasure in serving Mr. Crobble, sir--but--I have received so many favours from you, that I'm afraid Imight seem ungrateful. "

The good-natured Mr. Wallis happily stepped in at this moment to myrelief. 

"Nonsense, " replied Mr. Timmis; "the stock is delivered to the highestbidder; here Crobble backs eighteen shillings a week against myhalf-a-crown-take him. "

I still felt some hesitation, although it was evident, from hisexpression, that Mr. Timmis valued the servant much less than the servantvalued the master. 

"Only look here, Wally, " cried he; "here stands Andrew, like an assbetween two bundles of hay. "

"Rather like a bundle of hay between two asses, I think, " replied Mr. Wallis; and good-naturedly tapping me on the shoulder, he continued--"accept Mr. Crobble's offer, Master Andrew: you're much too good forTimmis--he can soon get a grubby half-crown boy--but you may wait a longtime for such an eligible offer. "

"Eighteen shillings a week, " said Mr. Crobble; who, I must confess, without any particular stretch of self-esteem, appeared anxious to engageme--, "but I shall want security. "

That word "security" fell like an avalanche on my mounting spirit, andcast me headlong down the imaginary ascent my busy thoughts had climbedto!

"Five hundred pounds, " continued Mr. Crobble; "d'ye think--have you anyfriends?"

"None, sir; my father is a poor man, and quite unable. " I could scarcelyspeak--like the driver of the one-horse chaise, I could neither advancenor recede. 

"The father, " said Mr. Timmis, "is only a poor shoe-maker--a good fellowtho'--an excellent fit!"

"You mean to say, " cried Mr. Wallis, "it were bootless to seek securityof the shoe-maker. "

A laugh ensued; and, notwithstanding my agitated feelings, I could notforbear being tickled by Mr. Wallis's humour, and joining in themerriment. 

This sally gave a most favourable turn to the discussion. "Come, " saidMr. Wallis, "I'll stand two hundred and fifty--and you, Timmis, must gothe other. "

"No; d___ me, he may bolt with the cash-box, and let me in, perhaps, "exclaimed Mr. Timmis. I burst into tears; I felt, that from my long andfaithful services, I deserved a better opinion--although I had no rightto expect so great a favour. 

Rude as he was, he felt some compunction at having wounded my feelings;and swore a round oath that he was only joking, and I was a fool. "Did Ithink, for a moment, that Wally should get the start of him; no--I was anhonest chap, and he'd put his fist to double the amount to serve me;" andthen bade me "sit to the books, " and make all square before I cut mystick: and thus happily concluded this most momentous change in mycircumstances. 

CHAPTER XV. --An Old Acquaintance. 

"Only three holidays left, and still this plaguey glass says 'verywet;'--I can't bear it--I can't--and I won't. "

How impatiently did I count the minutes 'till the office was closed, forI longed to communicate the glad tidings of my good fortune to my worthyfather. The old man wept with joy at the prospect, and assisted me inrearing those beautiful fabrics termed castles in the air. 

His own trade, by the recommendation of the rough, ill-mannered, butgood-natured Mr. Timmis, had wonderfully increased; and, by making sometemporary sacrifices, he was enabled to give me an appearance moresuitable to the new position in which I was so unexpectedly placed. In anarrow alley, on the south side of the Royal Exchange, on theground-floor, I found the counting-house of Mr. Crobble. Under hisdirections, I quickly made myself master of the details of the business. Alas! it was but the slender fragment of a once flourishing mercantilehouse, of which time had gradually lopped off the correspondents, whilsthis own inertness had not supplied the deficiency by a new connexion; forhis father had left him such an ample fortune, that he was almostcareless of the pursuit, although he could not make up his mind, as hesaid, to abandon the "old shop, " where his present independence had beenaccumulated. I consequently found plenty of leisure, uninterrupted bythe continual hurry and bustle of a broker's office, to pursue myfavourite studies, and went on, not only to the entire satisfaction ofMr. Crobble, but to my own, and really began to find myself a man of someimportance. 

In the course of business, I one day fell in with an old acquaintance. 

"A parcel for Cornelius Crobble, Esq. , " said a little porter, of thatpeculiar stamp which is seen hanging about coach-offices--"Twoand-sixpence. "

I looked at the direction, and drew out the "petty cash" to defray thedemand; when, then, first looking at the man, I thought I recognised hisfeatures. 

"What!" cried I, "Isn't your name--"

"Matthew, " answered he quickly. 

"Matthew!--why, don't you know me?"

"No, sir, " replied he, staring vacantly at me. 

"Indeed!--Have I so outgrown all knowledge? Don't you recollect AndrewMullins?"

"Good heavins!" exclaimed he, with his well-remembered nasal twang; "areyou--"

"Yes. "

"Well, I declare now you've growed into a gentleman. I should'nt--Ireally should'nt--" He did not say what he really "should not"--butextended his hand. --"Hope you ain't too proud to shake hands with an oldfriend?--"

I shook him heartily by the hand, and made some enquiries touching hishistory. 

Poor Matthew seated himself with all the ease imaginable, and laid hisknot beside him, and began, after the manner of his favourite heroes, to"unbosom himself. "

"You've a father, " said he; "but I'm a horphan, without father normother--a houtcast!"--and he sunk his head upon his bosom; and I observedthat his scrubby crop was already becoming thin and bald. 

"Since I left the place in the 'lane, ' I've bin a-going--down--down"--andhe nearly touched the floor with his hand. "That gal, Mary, was the ruinof me--I shall never forget her. --My hopes is sunk, like the sun in theocean, never to rise agin!" I was rather amused by this romantic, thoughincorrect, figure; but I let him proceed: "I've got several places, butlost 'em all. I think there's a spell upon me; and who can struggleagainst his fate?"

I tried to console him, and found, upon a further confession, that he hadflown to spirits "now and then, " to blunt the sharp tooth of mentalmisery. 

Here, then, was the chief cause of his want of success, which he blindlyattributed to fate--the common failing of all weak minds. For my part, notwithstanding the imperial authority of the great Napoleon himself, Ihave no faith in Fate, believing that the effect, whether good or bad, may invariably be traced to some cause in the conduct of the individual, as certainly as the loss of a man, in a game of draughts, is theconsequence of a "wrong move" by the player!--And poor Matthew'saccusation of Fate put me in mind of the school-boy, who, during a wetvacation, rushed vindictively at the barometer, and struck it in theface, exclaiming--"Only three holidays left, and still this plaguey glasssays 'very wet;'--I can't bear it--I can't--and I won't. "

I did all in my power to comfort the little porter, exhorting him todiligence and sobriety. 

"You were always a kind friend, " said he, pathetically; "andperhaps--perhaps you will give me something to drink your health, forold-acquaintance sake. " This unexpected turn compelled me to laughter. I gave him sixpence. 

Alas! Matthew, I found, was but a piece of coarse gingerbread, trickedout with the Dutch metal of false sentiment. 

CHAPTER XVI. --The Loss of a Friend. 

"I say, ma'am, do you happen to have the hair of 'All round my hat Ivears a green villow?'"

I was startled by the batho-romantic sentiment of Matthew, somewhat inthe same manner as the young lady at the bookseller's, when she wasaccosted by a musical dustman, with--"I say, ma'am, do you happen to havethe hair of 'All round my hat I vears a green villow?'"

But, however ridiculous they may appear, such incongruous characters areby no means caricatures--nay, are "as plentiful as blackberries, "especially in the lower grades of society. 

I was indulging in a reverie of this sort, when Monsieur Dubois, my kindand gentlemanly tutor, abruptly entered the office. I felt proud inhaving obtained his friendship--for he was to me a mine of wealth, andappeared master of every subject upon which my curiosity prompted me toinquire, whilst the worthy Frenchman was so flattered by my sincererespect, that he took a delight in imparting his knowledge to so willingand diligent a scholar. 

Mr. Crobble had promised that I should continue my studies, being muchpleased with the proof I had been fortunate enough to give him of myprogress, generously offering to defray the charges of tuition; and Ifound in my new place, even more time than when in the employ of Mr. Timmis: for, indeed, half-a-clerk would have been sufficient to haveconducted the whole business. 

I was no less surprised at the unusual abruptness of approach, than atthe extraordinary excitement apparent in the manner of Monsieur Dubois;for he always boasted of his coolness and philosophy under allcircumstances. 

"Peace, peace!--'mon cher ami'--peace is proclaim"--cried he, raising hishat and his eyes to the dingy ceiling of our office--"Grace a Dieu!--letyran Napoleon--le charlatan est renverse de son piedestal--oui, moneleve--I vill see, again once more my dear France!"

He grasped my hand in his ecstasy, and tears filled his eyes tooverflowing. I had heard rumours of the restoration of the Bourbons, butI had not anticipated the loss of my inestimable tutor. 

I was almost ashamed of my selfishness; but vanquished my feelings so faras to congratulate him on his prospects, with as much cordiality andappearance of truth as I could assume. 

"I trust, however, " said I, "that restored to your country, and yourfriends, you will find that happiness you so much deserve. Go where youwill, you will be followed by the regrets of your English friends. "

"Ah! les Anglais!--'combien'--how motch 'reconnaissance?'" said he, "Ivill have for them! I sall them forget nevare!"

Mr. Crobble interrupted our colloquy. "All right t'other side thechannel, Mounseer, " cried be, elated; "we've licked Boney: he's done up;stocks are up; and Timmis, (your old master, Andrew) is as busy as a bee--only he's making money instead of honey!"

He shook hands with Monsieur Dubois; and congratulated him upon therestoration of Louis the Eighteenth. 

I mentioned to him Monsieur Dubois' intention of proceeding immediatelyto France. "He's right, " cried he; "let every man stick to his King andhis country; and I say"--he suddenly checked himself, and beckoning measide, continued in an under tone--"Andrew, you understand this Mounseerbetter than I do; he appears a good fellow in the main: if he should wanta lift, to fit him out for the voyage, or any thing of that sort, tellhim Corny Crobble will lend him a hand, for old acquaintance sake; Ishan't stick at a matter of forty or fifty pound--you understand--put itto him, as a matter of business; for that'll suit his proud stomach best, perhaps"--then, turning to Monsieur, he said, "Excuse whispering beforecompany, Mounseer Dubois. Good morning. "

"Bon jour, Monsieur, " replied Dubois, making my obese governor one of hismost graceful bows. 

I was highly gratified at being selected as the medium of this generousoffer; which Monsieur Dubois received without hesitation, as one whointended to repay it; but, at the same time, with the most gratefulacknowledgments of Mr. Crobble's considerate kindness. 

CHAPTER XVII. --Promotion. 

"I, think there must be something wrong about your rowing, "

"My rowing!" cried I; "nonsense!--it's because you don't steer right. "

"I remember, when I was a young man, I once took a fancy to rowing, " saidMr. Crobble one day to me. "I wasn't then quite so round as I am atpresent. Cousin Tom and I hired a wherry, but somehow we found we didn'tmake much way. Tom was steering, and I took the sculls, sitting my backto him like a gaby!"

"I, think there must be something wrong about your rowing, " said Tom. 

"My rowing!" cried I; "nonsense!--it's because you don't steer right. Well, at last a waterman came alongside, and grinning (the fellowcouldn't help it) good-naturedly, pointed out the cause of our dilemma;at which we both laughed heartily. Ever since that time I've been ofopinion, that unless people, 'who row in the same boat, ' understand eachother, they'll never get along--"

I smiled at this lengthy prologue, not conceiving to what it couldpossibly lead. 

"Now, Mr. Andrew, " resumed he, "I mean to be very industrious, and devotea whole day to giving you an insight into the business; after which Iexpect you'll pull away, while I only steer, which will suit me to a T--, you understand. "

"Exactly, sir, " I replied; and, in consequence, he really set about thetask; and I soon acquired sufficient knowledge in the business, as notonly to row in the same boat with him, but, what was still more agreeableto my patron's indolence, to manage the "craft" without his assistance. 

Six months after the departure of Monsieur Dubois, he sent a remittance, with interest on the amount, advanced by Mr. Crobble, with a long epistleto me, stating, that he had entered into partnership with his elderbrother, and commenced the business of a banker, under the firm of"Dubois Freres, " at the same time informing me that they were alreadydoing a large stroke of business, and wanted an agent in London, requesting me to inform him if it would be agreeable to Mr. Crobble forthem to draw upon his respectable house. 

I saw at once the advantages of this correspondence, and so warmlysolicited Mr. Crobble to accede, that he at last consented, provided Iundertook the whole management of the affair. 

The English were now daily flocking to Paris, and the money required fortheir lavish expenditure in the gay capital of France compelled theirapplication to the bankers. 

Messrs. Dubois Freres had their share of this lucrative business, and, astheir agents in London, we necessarily became participators in theirlarge transactions. 

In three months these operations had increased so enormously, and theprofits were so considerable, that Mr. Crobble not only advanced mysalary, but consented to engage the assistance of two junior clerks. Iwas now a man of some consideration. I was the senior clerk of theestablishment, although the youngest of the three. 

In two years I found myself at the head of six clerks, and had as muchbusiness as I could possibly manage. 

My star was in the ascendant. I had not only more money than I requiredfor my expenses, but was enabled to maintain my poor old father, whodaily became more and more infirm. 

I rented a small cottage at the rural village of Hackney, but my labouroccupied me early and late, and it was only on a Sunday I could reallyenjoy my home. 

Three years after quitting the office of Mr. Timmis, I had theinexpressible pleasure of employing him to purchase stock for his errandboy! I was proud as a king. 

"I said that boy would turn out well, " said the good-natured Mr. Wallis;"he always had a good principle. "

"And now bids fair, " said Mr. Timmis, "to have both principal andinterest. "

Mr. Crobble having lately had a large property left him in Hertfordshire, rarely came to the office above once a-quarter, to settle accounts. 

"A good dividend--a very good dividend!" said he, upon receipt of thelast quarter's profits. "But, Mr. Mullins, I cannot forget that thisbusiness is your child. "

"And I'm happy to say a thriving one, " I replied. 

"Are you satisfied--perfectly satisfied?" demanded he. 

"Beyond my wishes, sir. "

"I am not, " said he shortly. 

"No, sir?" exclaimed I, with surprise. 

"No, Sir!" repeated he. "Those who sow should reap. I've nochildren--I'm an idle fellow-a drone, sir--and won't consent to consumeall the honey. Don't speak, sir--read that!" and he pulled a parchmentfrom his pocket. 

It was a deed of partnership between Cornelius Crobble, of Lodge, Hertfordshire, Esquire, and the poor cobbler's son, ANDREW MULLINS. 

A RIGMAROLE. --PART I. 

"De omnibus rebus. "

The evening is calm--the sun has just sunk below the tiles of the house, which serenely bounds the view from the quiet attic where I wield theanserine plume for the delectation of the pensive public--all nature, etc. --the sky is deep blue, tinged with mellowest red, like a learnedlady delicately rouged, and ready for a literary soiree--the sweet-voicedpot-boy has commenced his rounds with "early beer, " and with leathernlungs, and a sovereign contempt for the enactments of the new police-act--greasy varlets proclaim to the hungry neighbourhood--"Baked sheeps'heads, hot!"--O! savoury morsel!--May no legislative measure ever silencethis peripatetic purveyor to the poor! or prevent his calling--may thetag-rag and bob-tail never reject a sheep's head!

"I never sees a sheep's head, but I thinks on you, " said Mrs. Spriggins, whose physiognomy was as yellow and as wrinkled as a duck's foot. Spriggins whipped his horse, for they were driving in a one-horse chaise, with two boys, and an infant in arms--Spriggins whipped his horsespitefully, for Mrs. S. 's sarcasm inspired him with a splenetic feeling;and as he durst not chastise her, the animal received the benefit of herimpetus. Spriggins was a fool by nature, and selfish by disposition. Mrs. S. Was a shrivelled shrew, with a "bit o' money;"--that was the baitat which he, like a hungry gudgeon, had seized, and he was hooked! The"spousals" had astonished the vulgar--the little nightingale ofTwickenham would have only smiled; for has he not sweetly sung--

"There swims no goose so grey, but soon or lateShe finds some honest gander for her mate;"

and her union was a verification of this flowing couplet. 

At different times, what different meanings the self-same words obtain. According to the reading of the new poor-law guardians, "Union, " as faras regards man and wife, is explained "Separation;" or, like a ship whenin distress, the "Union" is reversed! In respect of his union, Sprigginswould have most relished the reading of the former! But there areparadoxes--a species of verbal puzzle--which, in the course of this ride, our amiable family of the Spriggins's experienced to their greatdiscomfort. 

Drawing up a turnpike-gate, Mrs. S. Handed a ticket to the white-apronedofficial of the trust. 

"You should have gone home the way you came out--that ticket won't dohere, " said the man; "so out with your coppers--three-pence. "

"I don't think I've got any half-pence!" said Mr. S. , fumbling in hispennyless pocket. 

"Well, then, I must give you change. "

"But I'm afraid I hav'nt got any silver, " replied Mr. S. , with a longface. --"I say, mister, cou'dn't you trust me?--I'd be wery sure to bringit to you. "

But the man only winked, and, significantly pointing the thumb of hisleft hand over his sinister shoulder, backed the horse. 

"Vell, I'm blessed, " exclaimed Mr. S. --and so he was--with a scoldingwife and a squalling infant; "and they calls this here a trust, thefools! and there ain't no trust at all!"

And the poor animal got another vindictive cut. Oh! Mr. Martin!--thoufriend of quadrupeds!--would that thou had'st been there. "It's all myeye and Betty Martin!" muttered Mr. S. , as he wheeled about the jadedbeast he drove, and retraced the road. 

A RIMAROLE--PART II. 

"Acti labores sunt jucundi"

The horse is really a noble animal--I hate all rail-roads, for puttinghis nose out of joint--puffing, blowing, smoking, jotting--always goingin a straight line: if this mania should continue, we shall soon have thewhole island ruled over like a copy-book--nothing but straight lines--andsloping lines through every county in the kingdom!

Give me the green lanes and hills, when I'm inclined to diverge; and thesmooth turnpike roads, when disposed to "go a-head. "--"I can't bear ahorse, " cries Numps: now this feeling is not at all reciprocal, for everyhorse can bear a man. "I'm off to the Isle of Wight, " says Numps: "Thenyou're going to Ryde at last, " quoth I, "notwithstanding your hostilityto horse-flesh. " "Wrong!" replies he, "I'm going to Cowes. " "Thenyou're merely a mills-and-water traveller, Numps!" The ninny! he doesnot know the delight of a canter in the green fields--except, indeed, thesaid canter be of the genus-homo, and a field preacher!

My friend Rory's the boy for a horse; he and his bit o' blood arenotorious at all the meetings. In fact I never saw him out of thesaddle: he is a perfect living specimen of the fabled Centaur--full ofanecdotes of fox-chases, and steeple-chases; he amuses me exceedingly. Ilast encountered him in a green lane near Hornsey, mounted on a roadster--his "bit o' blood" had been sent forward, and he was leisurely makinghis way to the appointed spot. 

"I was in Buckinghamshire last week, " said he; "a fine turn out--such afield! I got an infernal topper tho'--smashed my best tile; tell you howit was. There was a high paling--put Spitfire to it, and she took it infine style; but, as luck would have it, the gnarled arm of an old treecame whop against my head, and bonneted me completely! Thought I wasbrained--but we did it cleverly however--although, if ever I made a leapin the dark, that was one. I was at fault for a minute--but Spitfire wasall alive, and had it all her own way: with some difficulty I got my nobout of the beaver-trap, and was in at the death!"

I laughed heartily at his awkward dilemma, and wishing him plenty ofsport, we parted. 

Poor Rory! he has suffered many a blow and many a fall in his time; buthe is still indefatigable in the pursuit of his favourite pastime--sotrue is it--that

"The pleasure we delight in physic's pain;"

his days pass lightly, and all his years are leap years!

He has lately inherited a considerable property, accumulated by a miserlyuncle, and has most appropriately purchased an estate in one of theRidings of Yorkshire!

With all his love for field-sports, however, he is no better "thebetter, " says he, "is often the worse; and I've no notion of losing myacres in gambling; besides, my chief aim being to be considered a goodhorseman, I should be a consummate fool, if, by my own folly, I lost myseat!"

A RIGMAROLE--PART III. 

"Oderunt hilarem tristes. "

The sad only hate a joke. Now, my friend Rory is in no sense a sadfellow, and he loves a joke exceedingly. His anecdotes of the turfare all racy; nor do those of the field less deserve the meed of praise!Lord F____ was a dandy sportsman, and the butt of the regulars. He wasdescribed by Rory as a "walkingstick"--slender, but very "knobby"--with apair of mustaches and an eye-glass. Having lost the scent, he rode oneday slick into a gardener's ground, when his prad rammed his hind-legsinto a brace of hand-glasses, and his fore-legs into a tulip-bed. Thehorticulturist and the haughty aristocrat--how different were theirfeelings--the cucumber coolness of the 'nil admirari' of the one wasludicrously contrasted with the indignation of the astonished cultivatorof the soil. "Have you seen the hounds this way?" demanded Lord F____, deliberately viewing him through his glass. 

"Hounds!" bitterly repeated the gardener, clenching his fist. "Dogs, Imean, " continued Lord F____; "you know what a pack of hounds are--don'tyou?"

"I know what a puppy is, " retorted the man; "and if so be you don'tbudge, I'll spile your sport. But, first and foremost, you must lug outfor the damage you have done--you're a trespasser. "

"I'm a sportsman, fellow--what d'ye mean?"

"Then sport the blunt, " replied the gardener; and, closing his gates, took Lord F____ prisoner: nor did he set him free till he had reimbursedhim for the mischief he had done. 

This was just; and however illegal were the means, I applauded them forthe end. 

Our friend B___d, that incorrigible punster, said, "that his horse hadput his foot in--and he had paid his footing, "

B___d, by the bye, is a nonpareil; whether horses, guns, or dogs, he isalways "at home:" and even in yachting, (as he truly boasts) he is never"at sea. " Riding with him one day in an omnibus, I praised theconvenience of the vehicle; "An excellent vehicle, " said he, "forpunning;"--which he presently proved, for a dowager having flopped intoone of the seats, declared that she "never rid vithout fear in any ofthem omnibus things. "

"What is she talking about?" said I. 

"De omnibus rebus, " replied he, --"truly she talks like the first lady ofthe land; but, as far as I can see, she possesses neither the carriagenor the manners!"

"Can you read the motto on the Conductor's button?" I demanded. "No;" hereplied, "but I think nothing would be more appropriate to his callingthan the monkish phrase--'pro omnibus curo!'"

At this juncture a jolt, followed by a crash, announced that we had losta wheel. The Dowager shrieked. "We shall all be killed, " cried she;"On'y to think of meeting vun's death in a common omnibus!"

"Mors communis omnibus!" whispered B___d, and----

I had written thus far, when spit--spit--splutter--plop!--my end ofcandle slipped into the blacking bottle in which it was "sustained, " andI was left to admire--the stars of night, and to observe that "Charles'swain was over the chimney;" so I threw down my pen--and, as the house wasa-bed--and I am naturally of a "retiring" disposition, I sought mypallet--dreaming of literary fame!--although, in the matter of what mightbe in store for me, I was completely in the dark!

AN INTERCEPTED LETTER FROM DICK SLAMMER TO HIS FRIEND SAM FLYKE. 

eppin-toosday

my dear sam

i've rote this ere for to let you no i'm in jolly good health and hartyas a brick--and hope my tulip as your as vell----read this to sal whocan't do the same herself seeing as her edication aintt bin in that line----give her my love and tell her to take care o' the kids. ----i've got asilk vipe for sal, tell her; and suffing for 'em all, for i've made axlent spec o' the woy'ge and bagg'd some tin too i can tell you; and vontve have a blow out ven i cums amung you----napps----that's the ass----isparticklar vell and as dun his dooty like a riq'lar flint----

i rode too races ar' needn't say as i vun em for napps is a houtanhouteran no mistake!

lork! didn't i make the natifs stare! and a gintlum as vos by, vantedto oan 'im an oferd any blunt for im but walker! says i there aint sicka ass as this 'ere hanimal in the hole country----besides he's like asvun o' me oan famly, for i've brot im up in a manner from the time he vosa babby!----he's up to a move or too and knows my voice jist for all theworld like a Chrissen. 

Red-nose Bill vot had a nook 'em down here brings this and he'll tell youall about the noose----i shall foller in about, a veek or so----tell salto keep up her sperrits and not to lush vith Bet----i dont like that ereooman at all----a idle wagabone as is going to the Union likevinkin----i'm no temperens cove meself as you nose, sam, but enufs enufand as good as a feast. 

The gintry as taken hervite a likin to Napps and me----they looks upon imas hervite a projidy----for he's licked all the donkies as run aginim----the vimmen too----(you no my insinnivating vay, sam, ) and nobodynose better than me how to git the right sow by the ear----no sooner do isee 'em a comin vith their kids, than i slips of and doffs my tile, an isays, says i----do let the yung jentlum have a cast----and then thelittle in coorse begins a plegyin the old 'uns, and----so the jobs done!

----vot's to pay, my good man? says she

----oh----nothink, marm, says i, as modest as a turnip new-peeld----nappsis a rig'lar racer----i dont let im hout but i'm so fond o' children!

----this here Yummeree doos the bisnis prime, for the vimmen comes overthe jentlum and a pus is made up for anuther race----and in coorse ipockits the Bibs----cos vy?----napps is nothink but a good 'un. 

'tother day hearin as there vos an hunt in the naborwood:----napps, saysi-a----speakin to my ass----napps ve'll jist go and look at 'em----

----vell ve hadnt got no more nor a mile wen i comes slap alongside of astarch-up chap upatop of raythur a good lookin' oss. ----but my i! vorntthere bellows to mend; and he made no more vay nor a duck in agutter. ----i says, sir, says i, dye think ve shall be in time for thehunt? but he never turns is hed but sets bolt uprite as stiff aspitch----jist for all the world as if his mother had vashed im in starch. 

----i twigs his lean in a jiffy----so i says says i "oh-you needn't be soshy i rides my own hannimal, "----

----vich i takes it vos more nor he co'd say, for his vas nothin more nora borrod'un and if i dont mistake he vos a vitechapler----i think iveseed im a sarvin out svipes and blue ruin at the gin-spinners corner o'summerset street or petticut lane----dunno witch. 

----sam, i hates pride so i cuts his cumpny----i says says i----napps itdont fit you aint a nunter you're o'ny a racer and that chaps afeard hisprad vill be spiled a keeping conapny with a ass----leastways i'm o' thesame opinyon in that respec consarning meself and----so i shall mizzle. 

----a true gintlum as is a gintlum, sam is as difrent to these herestuck-up fellers az a sovrin is to a coronashun copper vot's on'y gilt. 

vell lie turns hof over the left and vips up his animal tryin to get up atrot----bobbin up and down in his sturrups and bumpin hisself to make ashow----all flummery!----he takes the middel o' the field to hisself, andi cox my i for a houtlet and spi's a gait----that's the ticket! says i;so liting the 'bacca and blowin a cloud I trots along, and had jist cumto the gait ven turnin' round to look for the gin-spinner, blow me! sam, if i didn't see the cove again heels over head over an edge----like atumler at bartlmy fare;----vile his preshus hannimal vas a takin it coolyin the meddo!

"vat a rum chap"--says i, a larfin reddy to bust----"vat a rum chap togo over the 'edge that vay! ven here's a riglar gait to ride through!"

----and so, i druv on, but somehow, sam, i coudn't help a thinkin' aspraps the waggerbun lead broke his nek----stif as it vas! and so i saidto napps----"napps, "----says i----"lets go and look arter the warmintfor charity's-sake"

----napps vots as good-natur'd a ass as his master, didn't make noobstacle and so ve vent---

----my i!----sam, i'd a stood a Kervorten and three outs ad you a binthere!----there vas my jentlum up to his nek in a duckpond----lookin' asmiserribble as a stray o' mutton in a batter puddin'

"halp! halp!" says he, a spittin' the green veeds out of hismouth----"halp me, faller, and i'll stand a bob" or summat to that efeck. 

----but i couldn't hold out my fin to him for larfin----and napps begun abrayin at sich a rate----vich struck me as if he vas a larfin too, andmade me larf wusser than ever----

----vell, at last, i contrivis to lug him out, and a preshus figger hecut to be sure----he had kervite a new sute o' black mud, vich didn'tsmell particlar sveet i can tell you. 

----"ain't hurt yoursef?" says i, "have you?"

----"no"----says he----"but i'm dem wet and utterably spiled"----or vordslike that for he chewd'em so fine i couldn't rightly hit 'em. 

----ater i'd scraped him a little desent, and he'd tip'd a hog----vichvas rayther hansum----i ax'd him vere he'd left his tile?

"tile?"----says he----a yogglin his i's and openin' his jaws like a dyin'oyster "yes your castor"----says i, "your beaver your hat. "

"Oh!"----says he, p'inting dismal to the pond----"gone to the devil d___me!"----so vith that he takes out a red and yuller vipe, and ties it abouthis hed, lookin' for all the vorld like a apple-ooman. 

----as he had come down hansum i in coorse ofer'd to ketch his prad vichva'n't much difficulty----and up he jumps and lepped with a squosh intothe saddle----and rid of vithout as much as sayin' by your leave goodluck to you or anythink else----

---vell, this here vos the end and upshot o' that day's fun for I vos toolate for the start by ten minnits----i saw 'em goin' it at a distance soi takes a sight!----but i had too much valley for napes to put im to itso as to get up vith 'em----or he might a done it praps!---

----i've lived like a fightin cock and am as fatt as butter----but therace is goin' to begin in a hour and i must go and ketch napps who's agrazin on the commun and looks oncommun vell----so no more at presentfrom, Yours, my prime 'un, dick stammer.