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Quiz. Who the plague is he, I wonder? (Aside.) Xenophon! Oh, think he unquestionably wrote good Latin, sir.

Sir Ch. Good Latin, man !—he wrote Greek-good Greek,

you meant.

Quiz. True, sir, I did. Latin, indeed! (In great confusion.) I meant Greek—did I say Latin? I really meant Greek. (Aside.) Bless me! I don't know what I mean myself.

Sir Ch. Oh! Mr. Blackletter, I have been trying a long time to remember the name of one of Achilles' horses, but I can't for my life think of it. You doubtless can tell me.

Quiz. O yes, his name was—but which of them do you mean? What was he called ?

Sir Ch. What was he called ? Why, that's the very thing I wanted to know. The one I allude to was born of the Harpy Celæno. I can't, for the blood of me, tell it.

Quiz. (Aside.) Bless me! if I can either. (To him.) Born of the Harpy-oh! his name was-striking his forehead.) Gracious! I forget it now. His name was-was-wasStrange! 'tis as familiar to me as my A, B, C.

Sir Ch. Oh! I remember—'twas Xanthus, Xanthus-I remember now—'twas Xanthus--plague o’the name !--that's it.

Quiz. Egad! so 'tis. Thankus, Thankus"—that's it. Strange, I could not remember it! (Aside.) 'Twould have been stranger, if I had.

Sir Ch. You seem at times a little absent, Mr. Blackletter. Quiz. Dear me! I wish I was absent altogether. (Aside.)

Sir Ch. We shall not disagree about learning, sir. I discover you are a man, not only of profound learning, but correct taste.

Quiz. (Aside.) I am glad you have found that out, for I never should. I came here to quiz the old fellow, and he'll quiz me, I fear. (To him.) 0, by the by, I have been so confused—I mean, so confounded-pshaw! so much engrossed with the contemplation of the Latin classics, I had almost forgotten to give you a letter from your son.

Sir Ch. Bless me, sir! why did you delay that pleasure so long?


Quiz. I beg pardon, sir; here 'tis. (Gives a letter.)
Sir Ch. (Puts on his spectacles and reads.) “To Miss Clara."

Quiz. No, no, no—that's not it-here 'tis. (Takes the letter, and gives him another.)

Sir Ch. What! are you the bearer of love epistles, too, Mr. Blackletter?

Quiz. (Aside.) What a horrid blunder! (To him.) Oh, no, sir: that letter is from a female cousin at a boarding school to Miss Clara Upright-no, Downright—that's the name.

Sir Ch. Truly, she writes a good masculine fist. Well, let me see what my boy has to say. (Reads.)

"Dear Father, --There is a famous Greek manuscript just come to light. I must have it. The price is about a thousand dollars. Send me the money by the bearer.”

Short and sweet. There's a letter for you, in the true Lacedæmonian style-laconic. Well, the boy shall have it, were it ten times as much. I should like to see this Greek manuscript. Pray, sir, did you ever see it?

Quiz. I can't say I ever did, sir. (Aside.) This is the only truth I have been able to edge in yet. Sir Ch. I'll just send to my bankers for the money.

In the meantime, we will adjourn to my library. I have been much puzzled with an obscure passage in Livy. We must lay our heads together for a solution. But

am sorry you are addicted to such absence of mind, at times.

Quiz. Tis a misfortune, sir; but I am addicted to a greater than that, at times.

Sir Ch. Ah! what's that?
Quiz. I am sometimes addicted to an absence of body.
Sir Ch. As how ?

Quiz. Why, thus, sir. (Takes up his hat and stick, and walks off.)

Sir Ch. Ha! ha! ha! that's an absence of body, sure enough-an absence of body with a vengeance! A very merry fellow this. He will be back for the money, I suppose, presently. He is, at all events, a very modest man, not fond of expressing his opinion--but that's a mark of merit.


Of wedded bliss

When we debate
Bards sing amiss,

It is my fate
I cannot make a song of it; . To always have the wrong of it;
For I am small,

For I am small,
My wife is tall,

And she is tall, And that's the short and long And that's the short and long of it!

of it!

And when I speak,

For I am small,
My voice is weak,

And she is tall,
But hers—she makes a gong And that's the short and long

of it.

of it;

She has, in brief,

Against my life
Command in Chief,

She'll take a knife, And I'm but Aide-de-camp Or fork, and dart the prong of it;

of it;
For I am small,

For I am small,
And she is tall,

And she is tall, And that's the short and long And that's the short and long of it!

of it!

She gives to me

I sometimes think
The weakest tea,

I'll take to drink, And takes the whole Sou And hector when I'm strong chong of it;

of it;
For I am small,

For I am small,
And she is tall,

And she is tall, And that's the short and lozg And that's the short and long of it!

of it!

She'll sometimes grip 0, if the bell
My buggy whip,

Would ring her knell, And make me feel the thong I'd make a gay ding dong

of it;

of it;

For I am small,

For I am small,
And she is tall,

And she is tall, And that's the short and long And that's the short and long of it!

of it!


Mr. Pickwick’s apartments in Goswell street, although on & limited scale, were not only of a very neat and comfortable description, but peculiarly adapted for the residence of a man of his genius and observation. His sitting-room was the first floor front, his bed-room the second floor front; and thus, whether he was sitting at his desk in the parlor, or standing before the dressing-glass in his dormitory, he had an equal opportunity of contemplating human nature in all the numerous phases it exhibits, in that not more populous than popular thoroughfare. His landlady, Mrs. Bardell—the relict and sole executrix of a deceased custom-house officer-was a comely woman of bustling manners and agreeable appearance, with a natural genius for cooking, improved by steady and long practice into an exquisite talent. There were no children, no servants, no fowls. The only other inmates of the house were a large man and a small boy; the first a lodger, the second a the offspring of Mrs. Bardell. The large man was always at home precisely at ten o'clock at night, at which hour he regularly condensed himself into the limits of a dwarfish French bedstead in the back parlor; and the infantine sports and gymnastic exercises of Master Bardell were exclusively confined to the neighboring pavements and gutters. Cleanliness and quiet reigned throughout the house; and in it Mr. Pickwick's will was law.

To any one acquainted with these points of the domestic economy of the establishment, and conversant with the admirable regulation of Mr. Pickwick's mind, his appearance and behaviour on the morning previous to that which had been fixed upon for the journey to Eatonville, would have been

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most mysterious and unaccountable. He paced the room to and fro with hurried steps, popped his head out of the window at intervals of about three minutes each, constantly referred to his watch, and exhibited many other manifestations of impatience, very unusual with him. It was evident that something of great importance was in contemplation, but what that something was, not even Mrs. Bardell herself had been enabled to discover.

“ Mrs. Bardell," said Mr. Pickwick at last, as that amiable female approached the termination of a prolonged dusting of the apartment.

Sir," said Mrs. Bardell. “ Your little boy is a very long time gone."

“Why, it's a good long way to the Borough, sir," remonstrated Mrs. Bardell.

“Ah," said Mr. Pickwick, " very true; so it is."

Mr. Pickwick relapsed into silence, and Mrs. Bardell resumed her dusting

“ Mrs. Bardell," said Mr. Pickwick, at the expiration of a few minutes.

"Sir," said Mrs. Bardell again.

“ Do you think it's a much greater expense to keep two people than to keep one ?"

"La, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, coloring up to the very border of her cap, as she fancied she observed a species of matrimonial twinkle in the eyes of her lodger; "La, Mr. Pickwick, what a question ?"

“Well, but do you ?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.

“That depends"-said Mrs Bardell, approaching the duster very near to Mr. Pickwick's elbow, which was planted on the table; " that depends a good deal upon the person, you know, Mr. Pickwick; and whether it's a saving and careful person, sir."

“ That's very true," said Mr. Pickwick, " but the person I have in my eye (here he looked very hard at Mrs. Bardell) I think possesses these qualities; and has moreover a considerable knowledge of the world, and a great deal of sharpness, Mrs. Bardell ; which may be of material use to me."

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