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Bristol was full of painful recollections, and Cole-| ing down into the sky, and the whole range of ridge was still living at Keswick. Thither he mountains, having one line of summits under my

feet, and another above me, seemed to be suspended went :

between the firmaments. Shut your eyes, and Would that you could see (he wrote to his dream of a scene so unnatural and so beautiful. brother) these lakes and mountains, how wonder- What I have said is most strictly and scrupulously ful they are ! how awful in their beauty! All the true ; but it was one of those happy moments that poet part of me will be fed and fostered here. I can seldom occur, for the least breath stirring feel already in tune.

would have shaken the whole vision, and at once He had now lived thirty years, and supposed unrealized it. I have before seen a partial appearhimself to be growing old :

ance, but never before did, and perhaps never again

may, lose sight of the lake entirely ; for it literally Not so much by the family Bible, as by all exter- seemed like an abyss of sky before me, not fog nal and outward symptoms. The gray hairs have and clouds from a mountain, but the blue heaven made their appearance; my eyes are wearing out; spotted with a few fleecy pillows of cloud, that my shoes, the very cut of my father's, at which I looked as if placed there for angels to rest upon used to laugh; my limbs not so supple as they them.-P. 259. were at Brixton in '93; my tongue not so glib; my heart quieter ; my hopes, thoughts, and feelings

“Homed and housed" at Keswick, the poet all of the complexion of a sunny autumn evening. lived in a sort of domestic solitude ; working upon

In a letter of nearly the same date, to Mr. reviews and graver themes, which he variegated Duppa, we stumble upon a pleasant allusion to with occasional glasses of port wine, and glimpses Hazlitt

, who had dropped for a few days into the of the view before his window. He portrays Lake country, and having painted Coleridge for himself with quite a Montaigne simplicity and

liveliness. Sir George Beaumont, was emboldened to try his

We see him bending over his desk, hand on Wordsworth. The portrait was so dis- in the large odd-looking study, dressed in long mal, that one of the poet's friends, on looking at

worsted pantaloons and gaiters, and with a green it, exclaimed, “ At the gallows, deeply affected shade to protect his eyes. The cat, having soon by his deserved fate, yet determined to die like a

found his room the quietest in the house, gives him man.” Southey returns more than once to the her constant company, and sits by his side, and salutary effects of the scenery upon his mind, and purrs with almost as much melody and rhythm as speaks of the best seasons for visiting it; adding, many lines in Kchama. He had formed a canine with great beauty of thought, that in " settled fine as well as a feline acquaintanceship. Poets, from weather there are none of those goings on in heav- Pope and Shenstone to Cowper and Miss Mitford, en, which at other times give these scenes such have rejoiced in dogs. Southey had one, a wellan endless variety.” He had not, however, be- bred hound, Dapper by name ; affectionate, but a

coward. Of deficiency in courage some convincing come accustomed to the stern severity of that hilly

illustrations are recorded. and tempestuous climale ; he thought the white

A porcine apparition bear had one advantage over a mountain resident,

But other

shook Dapper's nerves for the day. and would gladly have rolled hiinself up until the qualities overbalanced the defect. And now the end of October, leaving particular directions to be poet closes his book, and sauntering down to the called early on the first of May. We have been river (Dapper at his heels) which runs at the bot

tom of the orchard, he throws stones until his arms greatly delighted with one picture which he gives

ache. Mr. Bedford ; and remember no prose description

Not a thought of history or drudgery goes

with him. He confessed that he never got into that surpasses it, unless it be Gray's charming account of sunrise at Southainpion :

any regular train of thought unless the pen was

in his hand. The shade of orchard-trees was for I have seen a sight, more dreamy and wonderful than any scenery

that Fancy ever yet devised for poetry and Madoc. Faëry-land. We had walked down to the lake

This great opus, of which numberless intimaside; it was a delightful day; the sun shining, tions meet the reader of the Correspondence, at and a few white clouds hanging motionless in the length reached Keswick in its presentable shape ; sky. The opposite shore of Derwentwater consists La beautiful book in quarto, very dear, and having of one long mountain, which suddenly terminates" Snowdon” spelt wrong throughout.

" I cannot in an arch, thus, and through that opening you help feeling,” he wrote, see a long valley between mountains, and bounded

“ that the poem looks like by mountain beyond mountain ; to the right of the the work of an older man; that all its lights are arch the heights are more varied and of greater evening sunshine.” Madoc did very well; half elevation. Now, as there was not a breath of air of the edition having been exhausted in three stirring, the surface of the lake was so perfectly months. Although late in appearance, it had been still that it became one great mirror, and all its among the earliest of his poetical visions, and he waters disappeared ; the whole line of shore was entertained the most confident hopes of its lasting represented as vividly and steadily as it existed in

fame. He knew its execution to be the finest he its actual being—the arch, the vale within, the single houses far within the vale, the smoke from

had produced. their chimneys, the farthest hills, and the shadow Compare it (he said) with the Odyssey, not with and substance joined at their bases so indivisibly, the Iliad; with King John and Coriolanus, not that you could make no separation even in your Macbeth and the Tempest. The story wants unity, judgment. As I stood on the shore, heaven and and has, perhaps, too Greek, too stoical, a want of the clouds seemed lying under me. I was look-) passion ; but as far as I can see, with the same

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A FAITHFUL SLAVE LIBERATED.-GARRICK'S FIRST APPEARANCE IN LONDON. 589 eyes wherewith I read Homer, and Shakspeare, | Elinsley, and passed a few days with Walter Scott and Milton, it is a good poem, and must live. at Ashestiel. He tracked the Last Minstrel through

Perhaps all works—whether of the pen, the his pleasant haunts, and even took spear in hand pencil, or the chisel—require patient scrutiny, in against the salmon. The Scottish men of letters proportion to the delicate harmony of their compo

did not surprise him ; he considered them to be sition. A glance of the eye takes in Tintoret;

fairly represented by the diminutive literatuli. but a whole day scarcely unfolds the grace of But the country he thought charming—Teviotdale, Raffaelle. Sir Walter Scott assured Southey that the Yarrow, the Tweed, and romantic Melrose, he had read Madoc three times, and with an in- won his praise. For Presbyterianism, with its creasing sense of its merits. We are, nevertheless, twang and its frost, he had no sympathy. He unwilling to admit the high panegyric bestowed returned to Keswick while the news of Nelson's on the poem by its author. Taking occasion to death was bursting, in thunder, over England. He mention William Taylor's opinion, that the press

wrote to Mr. Bedford, “ What a death is Nelson's ! had sent out no production equal to Madoc since It seems to me one of the characteristics of the Paradise Lost, Southey adds—" Indeed, this is not sublime, that its whole force is never perceived at exaggerated praise, for unfortunately there is no

The more it is contemplated, the deeper is competition.” This was a bold saying ; and bolder its effect. When this war began I began an ode, than it was wise. In that long interval of, more

which almost I feel now disposed to complete." than one hundred and thirty years, our poetry was And to his brother, “ You will have heard of Nelenriched with contributions which will be treasured son's most glorious death. He leaves a name for all time. Milton himself had built a wing to above all former admirals.” A volume, or an artihis splendid palace of song ; inferior in its archi- cle, could not have a better conclusion. Southey tecture, and less sumptuously furnished; but still did something more for Nelson than completing of grand design and beautiful execution. Dryden the ode. had written his exquisite Fables ; Pope had in one piece displayed the lustrous gayety of Ariosto, A Faithful Slave LIBERATED.—The following with chaster graces of fancy and taste ; Thomson is an extract from the will of Judge Upsher, late had dipped his language in the lights of the rain- secretary of state of the United States, killed by bow; Young had shed abroad the full wisdom of " I emancipate and set free my servant David Rich,

the explosion on board the steamer Princeton :his most thoughtful mind; and Akenside had re- and direct my executors to give him one hundred vived among us the fading bloom of classic color dollars. I recommend him in the strongest manand outline.

ner to the respect, esteem, and confidence of any Our remarks upon these volumes have been, community in which he may happen to live. He of necessity, too rapid to permit of any close or has been my slave for twenty-four years, during all chronological arrangement. With so large a tract

which time he has been trusted to every extent, to fly over, we have been obliged to keep almost been unbounded; his relation to myself and family

and in every respect. My confidence in him has constantly upon the wing. Dropping down now has always been such as to afford him daily opporand then among the corn, we have found a few tunities to deceive and injure us, and yet he has ears to carry away. To some of the literary never been detected in any serious fault, nor even notices which are scattered through the poet's let- in an unintentional breach of the decorums of his ters, reference has already been made. Towards station. His intelligence is of a high order, his the end of this second volume we meet with two integrity above all suspicion, and his sense of right or three slight sketches, which are not without in- that he is justly entitled to carry this certificate

and propriety correct, and even refined. I feel Mrs. Bare-bald (as he named the ingenious from me in the new relations which he must now lady of Evenings at Home) had said something form : it is due to his long and most faithful seruncivil of Lamb, whom he wished 10 “ singe her vices, and to the sincere and steady friendship which flaxen wig with squibs.” Of Coleridge he observes, I bear him. In the uninterrupted and confidential “ His mind is in a perpetual St. Vitus' Dance- intercourse of twenty-four years, I have never eternal activity without action;" a most penetrating word. I know no man who has fewer faults or

given, nor had occasion to give, him an unpleasant and happy criticism, which Coleridge unconsciously more excellences than he.” — Chambers' Journal. confirms in the Prospectus of The Friend, when he says :-" I am inclined to believe that this want of perseverance has been produced in the muin by

GARRICK's First APPEARANCE IN LONDON.–At an over-activity of thought modified by a constitu- a sale of a collection of autograph letters were fifty tional indolence.” We might enlarge these little of the celebrated David Garrick. In one, which sketches from a visit which Southey made to Lon- was written on the night of his first appearance in don in the summer of 1804. He dined with Sothe- London, he says :-"My mind has always been by, the translator of Oberon, whom he liked; and inclined to the stage

Last night I met Price, “ the picturesque man, and Davies played Richard the Third to the surprise of everyGiddy,” whose face he declared ought to be body; and, as I shall make very near £300 per

annum of it, and as it is really what I dote upon, I perpetuated in marble for the honor of mathemat- am resolved to pursue it.”. This interesting series ics." In the autumn of the following year he of letters sold at high prices, amounting in the went to Edinburgh, in the company of Peter / whole to about £110.


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From the Knickerbocker.

From the Boston Post DISUNION.

THE MINER'S DREAM. Av, shout! 't is the day of your pride,

The day was done—he swallowed a crustYe despots and lords of the earth!

The last he had in his lockerTeach your serfs the American name to deride

He placed his head on a bag of dust,
And to rattle their fetters in mirth.

And his hands on the pick and rocker.
Ay, shout! for the league of the free
Is about to be shivered to dust,

And there by the Yuba's lonely stream,
And the torn branches fall from the vigorous tree, His tent the murky sky,

Wherein Liberty placed her last trust. He dreamed the most auriferous dream;
Shout, shout! for more firmly established will be Alas! that 't was all in his eye.
Your thrones and dominions beyond the blue sea.

He saw the noble palace of gold
Laugh on! for such folly supreme

Which the ancient Spaniards soughtThe world has yet never beheld ;

The dome of gold was lofty and bold,
And ages to come will the wild story seem

And the pillars with gold inwrought.
A tale by antiquity swelled.
For nothing that Time has up-built,

On a glittering throne the inca sat-
And set in the annals of crime,

(Of solid gold 't was builded)So stupid in folly, so wretched in guilt,

“ His mutton was served on a golden plate, Darkens sober tradition or rhyme.

And his gingerbread was gilded.”
It will be like the fable of Eblis' fall,
A by-word of mocking and horror to all.

And the guards wore golden plumes so tall

And their helmets shone like sunsYe mad! who would ’rase out your name

They fired at a mark with golden ball, From the league of the proud and the free, Which were cast for their golden guns. And separate, ideal sovereignty claim,

Like a lone wave flung off from the sea ; The golden-rod waved in every breeze, Oh, pause! ere you plunge in the chasm

And the gold-thread grew in the brakesThat yawns in your dangerous way;

Goldfinches twittered in all the trees, Ere Freedom, convulsed with one terrible spasm, And gold-fish swam in the lakes. Desert you

forever and aye! Pause ! think! ere the earthquake astonish your "I give thee all !" the Inca cried, souls,

My palace, my guard, my throneAnd the thunder of war through your green valleys And the river's bed, and the mountain's side, rolls.

Their treasures are thine alone." Good God! what a title, what name

Now over his dream a change hath come ;
Will history give to your crime !

The fields are rocky and bare,
In the deepest abyss of dishonor and shame He dreams of his old New England home,
Ye will writhe till the last hour of time,

And the memories clustered there.
As braggarts who forged their own chains,
Pulled down what their forefathers built,

He walks by the run at Seymour's pond,
And tainted the blood in their children's young Ah! the grapes of which he was so fond,

Where he hauled the pickerel in ;
With the poison of slavery and guilt ;

In the former age of tin.
And Freedom's bright heart be hereafter tenfold
For your folly and fall more discouraged and cold. Hurrah! Point Rocks! the ocean shore,

And the marching tides deploy,
What flag shall float over the fires,

With the same wild rush and the same wild roar And the smoke of your parricide war,

That thrilled him when a boy. Instead of the stars and broad stripes of your sires ? Now the school-house red, with its hopper roof,

A lone, pale, dim, mist-covered star, With the treason cloud hiding its glow,

And its dust, and noise, and fun, And its waning crest close to the sea;

And the ferrule's whisk, and the sharp reproof,

And the shout when school is done.
Will the eagle's wing shelter and shield you? ah, no!
That wing shelters only the free.

Anon he dreams of the Sabbath day,
Miscall it, disguise it, boast, brag, as ye will, The Sabbath bell doth toll,
Ye are traitors, misled by your mad leaders still. And serious faces throng the way
Turn, turn, men! Cast down in your might

And serious thoughts the soul.
The Anarchs that sit at the helm !
Steer, steer your proud ship from the gulf which And when in dreams he had ceased to roam,
the night

And waked by the Yuba river, Of treason and terror o'erwhelms.

He thought of his wife, and his child, and his home, Turn back! From your mountains and glens,

And of God, the perfect giver.
From your lakes, from the rivers and sea,
From forest and precipice, cavern and den,

Why change the treasures of the heart

For glittering lumps like these? Where your forefathers bled to be free,

So across the isthmus he took a start, From the graves where those glorious forefathers

And came home by way of Chagres. lie,

TRISMEGIST. The warning reëchoes, “ Turn back, ere ye die!" Little Rock, (Ark.)

ALBERT Pike. P. S. He brought the lumps with him.

From Punch.


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Forester (thoughtfully to himself.)-Elderly lady. SCENE FROM THE LIFE OF AN UNPROTECTED Longs is n't it, ma'am Here you are.

Unprotected Female.—Oh, thank you ; I'm sure

I did n't know (goes to the nearest desk and addresses The Bank. The Unprotected Female escapes from herself to nobody in particular.)-Please, I've come

the hands of her cab-driver, after an hour of stop- for my dividends. pages, prayers, fears, remonstrances, higglings, Clerk (seizing a disengaged moment and whipping and general uncomfortablenesses of all kinds. open transfer-book.)– What name? Unprotected Female (before the bank entrance.- Unprotected Female (not understanding.)–Eh? Thank goodness! (Gazes eagerly round her.) What? Oh! I wonder where Mr. Jones is. (St. Paul's Clerk.- Watt! Go to the W's. clock strikes Three.") Oh! it's 3 o'clock, and I Unprotected Female (bewildcred.)— The W’s? ought to have been here at 2. (She enters the court.) Clerk (pointing with his pen.)-Over the way I thought he would have waited. (To the Stately fourth desk—there! Beadle in the cocked hat.) Oh, please, has Mr. Jones Unprotected Female mechanically obeying and acbeen here?

costing clerk at the desk indicated.)–Please, I've Stately Beadle (vacantly.)-Jones? There's a come for my dividends, and they told me to come to deal o' Joneses.

the W's. Unprotected Female (with unsolicited communica- Clerk.-Name? tiveness.)-It 's Mr. Jones who is in the city, and Unprotected Female (replunged into bewilderment.) has always come with me to draw my dividends ; -What? and he said he would meet me here to-day, at 2 ; Clerk.-Christian name? but the horrid cabman would get into a stoppage, (Running over the Watt’swith his finger in the and it's past 3, and I don't see him ; and I 've got Transfer-book.] all my papers here; and if you please, do you think Unprotected Female.—Martha. they'd give me the money! and where am I to go? Clerk.-No Martha Watt here. Must have made and it's too bad of Mr. Jones; for he knows I'm a mistake, ma'am. not used to business; and, please, could you direct Unprotected Female (in great wretchedness.)-Oh, me to the Funds ?

they told me to come. Stately Beadle (whose attention has wandered a Clerk.—How do you spell your name? good deal during the above.)-Fust door to the right. Unprotected Female.—STUnprotected Female.—Oh, thank you!

Clerk (indig

tly.)—Then what do you come to (Enters the door of the Rotunda, which, it being a the W’s for? You gave me your name “ Watt.":

dividend day, is filled with an average of half-a- Unprotected Female (explanatorily.)—No, I said dozen customers to each clerk.)

- What?" Unprotected Female (looking about her in alarm.) Clerk.-Well, “ Watt.” That don't begin with -Oh, I wish Mr. Jones was here. (Addressing STherself to the nearest group of two very impaticnt Unprotected Female.—No—my name is n't Watt. city gents, an embarrassed elderly lady, a deaf old I only said “What.” It 's Struggles is my name gentleman, and a widlow, all upon one clerk.) -Oh!-Martha Struggles. please, I 've come for my dividends. (Finding Clerk (relieved and kindly.)—Go to ST, and herself not listened to, she raps the counter.) Please, give your name, and they 'll give you a warrant. I've come for my dividends.

Unprotected Female.—Oh–I don't want a warrant Clerk (in the same brcath.)—Two three five-how -I 've come for my dividends. will you have it? What d’ye make it? Eight Clerk (impatiently.)TeTe-Te. Why don't four six eight and eight. Take it short? Seven you bring somebody with you? three two. (Despatches his group with incredible Unprotected Female (glad of the opportunity, is rapidity and good temper. To the Unprotected Fe- about to explain the defection of Jones.)—Oh, you male.) Now, ma'am, please.

see, Mr. JonesUnprotected Female. If you please, I'm come for Clerk.-We!l-well-never mind Mr. Jonesmy dividends

go to the ST's—there (pointing with his pen,) and Clerk (rapidly.)-Dividend-office.

take what they give you. Now, sir. (To the next [Dashes into the business of the next half-a-dozen cus- payec.)

tomers, leaving the Unprotected Female in utter Unprotected Female (gaining the ST"s at last with helplessness.)

unusual directness.) --Martha Struggles, and I'vo Unprotected Female.—Oh, they won't attend to come for my dividends. me. It's shameful. They durst n't treat me so if Clerk (discovering the name.)-How much? Mr. Jones was here, (violently thrusting herself to Unprotected Female (plunging into her bag and the desk,) but I must have my dividends.

bringing up a handful of papers.)—It 's all down 1st Custorner (politely.)—Dividend-office, ma'am. here.

2d Customer (indignantly.)—It is n't here, Clerk (hastily.)-Put it down. Now ma'am. ma'am.

(Proceeds to dispose of other applicants.) 3d Customer (humorously.)–First door round Unprotected Female (after performing a series of the corner, ma'am.

complicated calculations, puts in her paper trium4th Customer (savagely.)-Now, ma'am, get out phantly.)—That 's it.

Clerk reading out (waggishly.)-289734—two Unprotected Female (gazing wretchedly from one hundred and eighty-nine thousand seven hundred to the other.)-Oh, it 's my dividends.

and thirty-four pounds-ma'am? Clerk (with contemptuous pity.)-Here, Forester, Unprotected Female.-No-no-two hundred and tell her

eighty-nine pounds, seven shillings and three far(Forester gently conducts the Unprotected Female, things, and I don't mind the copper.

vehemenily protesting, to the Long Annuities Div- Clerk (referring to book.)—No such sum under idend-office.)

that name in Long Annuitics. What stock?

of the way.



Harassed Clerk (comprehending at a glance.)— Clerk.-Bank Stock, Consols, Reduced, Three- 2001. in Longs, the rest in Three-and-a-Quarters. and-a-Quarters, or terms of years ?

If you bring the warrant for the rest, I 'll pay you. Unprotected Female (solemnly, but with much You can only have 2001. on this alarm.)-No, it's all in the Funds.

Unprotected Female (clasping her hands in deClerk.— Yes, but what stock?

spair.)-Oh, they did n'i give me anything but that, Unprotected Female (in a tone intended to inspire and they said you'd pay me if I showed it yourespect.)- In the Government Securities, every and now you won't -04farthing of it.

Harassed Clerk (on the verge of an explosion.)Clerk (suddenly.)-Oh! you 've got your stock Bless the woman! receipts there. Let me look. (Holding his hand.) Unprotected Female (passing suddenly from the

Unprotected Female (suspiciously.)—Oh, but Mr. depths of despair to the summit of felicity.)-Oh, Jones said I was n't. They're my securities. there's Mr. Jones! Oh, Mr. Jones!

Clerk (half amused, half hopeless of arriving at a [Rushes towards that individual, who enters the Roresult.)–Hold 'em tight, Ma'am; only let me look. tunda ; all but falls into his arms, and the scene Longs, and Three-and-a-Quarters. (Makes out the closes on her rapture of relief.] warrant for the Long Annuities' Stock.) Now, sign there, Ma'am. (Pushes the Dividend-book over to her. Unprotected Female is about to write her name promiscuously.) No, no. Opposite there— Pleasant is it to record the ready gratitude of bodies

A BLACK Statue TO THOMAS CARLYLE.So. Unprotected Female (suddenly seized with a qualm.) with his iron pen, pricks “ wind-bags ;" who, with

of men. Well, Thomas Carlyle, the man who, -But you 'll pay me? Clerk.-Dear, dear, dear! Now sign there.

his iron-tipped shoon, kicks “ flunkeydom ;" who, (Giving her the warrant.) So. (signs.) Now, with his, Vulcanic fist, knocks down the giant take that to the Rotunda, and they 'll give you


“ Sham,”—Thomas Carlyle is to be rewarded by

the West India planters for his late advocacy of money.

“ the beneficent whip," and the Kentuckian wrath Unprotected Female. -Oh, but can't you, please?

with which he has all-but destroyed emancipated I'd rather have it here.

6. Black Quashee,” the wretch who will not work Clerk.-No. We don't pay here. There, it's that round room you came through.

among sugar-canes, unless well paid for his sweat ;* Unprotected Female.—Oh, but I asked there as I preferring to live upon pumpkin! to be, in fact, a

free, luxurious citizen of accursed Pumpkindom. came on, and they would n't.

Thomas Carlyle is to be vicariously executed in Clerk.-But they will now, if you show 'em that. Now do go, ma'am. These gentlemen are

black marble, and to stand in the most conspicuous waiting.

spot of the island of Jamaica, with a pumpkin fash

ioned into a standish in one hand, and the sugar[Pointing to a group which has been jointly and sev

cane pointed and nibbed into a pen in the other. erally consigning the Unprotected Female to very

So should it be done unto the man whom the unpleasant places during the above colloquy.] Unprotected Female (very humbly to the group.)

slave-holder delights to honor !

There will be copies in little-statuettes—for the -I'm sure I'm very sorry-But Mr. Jones—(Her explanation is cut short by a rush of payees; and she American market, to grace the mantel-shelf of the wanders back to the Rotunda. Addressing First

Virginian man-buyer.Punch. Clerk, who has his hands full already)—Please, could you pay me my dividends ?

Elderly Gentleman.-Wait a moment, madam.

Unprotected Female.—They said you would if I THE RETURN OF PROSPERITY AND THE BOARD showed you this. [Holding up warrant. Elderly Gentleman is disposed of.]

Now matters are mending ; our exports, ascending, Unprotected Female.—Oh! please, could you ?

Cause Business to caper and Credit to crow; Brisk Clerk.-- There's three before you, old Our fisheries are rising in manner surprising, lady. (Brisk Clerk is disposed of.)

And butter is moving, and cheese on the go. Unprotected Female.--Now, if you please- Up cordage has gotten, and fabrics of cotton Severe Widow (with much asperity.)-I beg you 'll

Exhibit an increase delightful to see : wait for your turn, ma'am.

Glass, hardware, and pottery, with drapery, silkUnprotected Female (in a tone of dignified retort.) shottery, -Oh! by all means, ma'am. (Severe Widow is And leather, are doing as well as may be. disposed of:) Now, please, my dividends. (Hands Our dealings in linen give proof of a spinning, over warrant.)

Which all Europe's spiders can't equal us in ; Harassed Clerk (snappishly)—How do you make We've sold the world inetals for saucepans and it?

kettles, Unprotected Female.-Oh! I did n't make it. It And had a proportionate influx of tin. was my poor Uncle Thomas left it to me. With colors for dying and painters supplying,

Harassed Clerk (glaring at her as with a desire to We 're driving a trade very flattering to hope. annihilate her.)—Add it up. How much is it?

Which consideration affords consolation Unprotected Female (with a ray of intelligence.)

For not having been quite so well off for soap. Oh! it's 2891. 7s. 01d. But I don't mind the Despite contradiction, without any fiction, copper.

Our stationery has advanced we may say ; Harassed Clerk (flinging back the warrant.)- The woollen trade, lastly, is prospering vastly : It's only for 2001.

The inference we draw from these facts is Unprotected Female.-Oh! then they ’ve cheated Hooray!

Punch. me, I thought they would. Here are my securities. [Shows stock certificates.]

* See Living Age, No. 299.


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