First Fiddle (Earl R*88*ll) :-"WE SHOULD GET ON BETTER, MR. B., IF YOU TOOK YOUR TIME FROM ME, AND DIDN'T PLAY SO LOUD."

MRS. BROWN HAS A DOG BROUGHT HOME.

I ALWAYS did say, and them will be my words to my dyin' days, as animals is all very well in their places, and as to BROWN a-sayin' as it don't take much for to keep a dog, why it's downright foolishness, and don't stand to reason, though certainly you wouldn't give to a infant what you gives a dog, yet it costs money, as everythin' does as is money's worth, as the sayin' is.

When I see BROWN come up to the door a-leadin' of that big dog, as I took for a calf, it give me quite a turn. You never see such a awkward, knock-kneed, all-over-the-place animal, as didn't seem to have no command over hisself no ways, and by his footprints up them doorsteps you'd a-thought as he'd got fifty legs, that you would, like the alligator out of the woods.

I says, “'LIZA JANE, don't open the front door for all his knockin'. I will not have that beast a-besmearin' my passage with his paws as is capable of knockin' any one down if jumped on sudden." As well I remembers poor MRS. JACOBS in Great Prescott-street, as was in wholesale glass and China line, with things that lovely a-comin' constant from over there in wooden cases with paper shavins as safeguards agin breakin', and always unpacked them in the fore court, as I've stood myself a-lookin' at, and I'm sure that dog was her death, though bite her he did not, through her jumpin' on the crate for to save herself, as, turnin' up sudden, pitched her into the airey, and never spoke agin.

So I don't hold with them large-sized dogs, as can reach up to the table with only their heads, and lick the cold meat if he hadn't time to collar the lot, as I see him try to do with my own eyes as BROWN was a-leadin' him through for to tie him up by the water-butt. So I says to BROWN, "Whatever are you a-goin' to do with him." He says, "I've only got him for a few days." But, bless you, I see as he was a-kiddin', as the sayin' is, and a-comin' the artful to see how I took it. So I says, "If it's only for a few days it don't matter; but," I says, "live in the house with him I never can."

Bless you, he was down my throat in a minute, a-saying as I'd better stop till I was asked, and that some dogs was much more pleasanter than many as called theirselves Christians. I was natural hurt at them remarks, but didn't say nothin' more till I see BROWN a-fidgettin' about after supper.

So I says, "If it's that everlastin' dog as you're a-grizzlin' over, make your mind easy, for LIZA's give him all the bits, with a bowl of water and a lump of brimstone in, for fear as he should go mad and break his chain, and she's got some straw, and a bit of old stair-carpet for to make him a bed, as is a kind-hearted gal, and seemed to take to the brute, as nearly throwed her down, with his head a-towerin' over her'n, with his paws on her shoulder.

Bless you, BROWN, he couldn't rest till he'd gone out with a light for to see as the creature was all right, as in my opinion was the cause of his goin' on as he did, for animals is very like children, if you wakes 'em up when first off, it's hours afore you'll get 'em to sleep agin, and so I told BROWN when he come up to bed. For I heard that brute a-givin' in to whines and short barks, as I know'd meant as he was a-tunin' up, as the sayin' is.

BROWN is one of them heavy sleepers as nothin' hardly won't rouse, and off like a church the minute as he's in bed.

I was a-droppin' off gentle like when I heard that dog a-makin' a sawin' sort of noise, as though he was a-gratin' of his chain, then I heard him give a short bark and then a lot of whines, and was just off when I started out of my skin, for he give a howl as sounded through the place agin.

A nice game he kep' up till I was pretty nigh mad. As to wakin' BROWN I might as well a-tried to wake the cemetry, for he only says, "Bother the dog," and off in a minute.

"Well," I says, "bear this I can't." So I goes to the staircase winder and opens it, as let in a chilly air, though I had got my thick cloak on and my head tied up. I didn't know the beast's name so calls him "good dog;" but the moment as I spoke he flies out like a roarin' lion, and barked that furious, a-dashin' about like mad.

Well, I was that put out and thinks to myself as pr'aps a jug of cold water over him might quiet him down. So I gets the large stone pitcher, as is always kep' full a-standin' on the landin', and puts the candle on the winder-sell, and just as I'd got the pitcher to the winder if the candle wasn't blowed out, but I thought as I could aim at that barkin' brute, as was tied up just under the winder.

Well, I gets the jug up on the winder ledge, and was just a-givin' it a turn when it give a slip, and out it went, and must have ketched on the corner of the water-butt. I heard it smash with a crash as was distracting, and I hears some one cry out, "Murder! help! thieves! fire!" and I see a policeman's bull's-eye a-gleamin' and hears a rattle.

So I shets the window quick, and goes back to bed all in the dark a-listenin'. But soon there come a-hammerin' at the back-door as obligated me for to go down, and if there wasn't two police as says to me, "If you keeps wild beasts you did ought for to have 'em secured proper."

I says, "Who are you a-callin' wild beasts ?" Says they, "Your dog, as has roused the neighbourhood, as have sent to the stationhouse, and the party next door is pretty nigh drownded, and might have been killed with a stone pitcher a-fallin' on his head, as a nightcap ain't no protection agin."" I says, Hang the dog! for what I cares I wish he was at Jericho." "Well," he says, "he may be by this time, for he's broke his chain and bolted."

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Then I says, “Why ever did you disturb me?" "Cos," he says, "we thought as there was thieves, as the old gentleman next door hollared out."

And if it wasn't poor old MR. BRETTLE next door as had come out of his warm bed for to try and pacify that dog as I'd been and soused through and through with cold water, as is a asthmatic party already. If the stone pitcher hadn't broke its fall agin the water-butt it must have been certain death to him.

Well, I told the policemen for to look round in the mornin', and gets to bed agin. In the mornin', when BROWN drawed up the blind for to shave, I hear him say, "Here's a pretty go," and never did you see such work as that dog had made, why, if he hadn't been and dug a hole big enough for to bury hisself in, and that undermined the water-butt, as it was all sunk a-one-side. So BROWN says, "Where's the dog?" I says, "Thank goodness, gone." "Gone!" says he. "Why he's worth ten guineas. I've bought him for a gentleman as asked me to keep him for a day or two." "What!" I says, "you've paid the money for him." "Yes," says "We're ruined!" says I.

he.

I couldn't rest, for as soon as ever breakfast was over I was out at the police station, but there didn't seem no chance of findin' the dog. I was put out, and went home with a heavy heart, offerin' of a half-aSovereign to any one as would bring him. I wish I'd a-said five shillin's, for a boy brought him about three o'clock, as I do believe was only sent by them police as know'd where he was all the time. Well, we fed him and coaxed him, 'LIZA JANE and me, and let him go about where he liked, for I was afraid to let him go into the garden. Well, at last he took a fancy for to lay on the mat in the passage just as I'd gone up stairs for to tidy myself up for tea. When I come down it was nearly dusk, and if that dog didn't growl that frightful at me as I couldn't come down stairs nor 'LIZA JANE come up all the evenin', and we was prisoners till just on eight, when BROWN come in as soon settled my gentleman, and sent him round to the public-house stables, as is his fit place.

As to poor MR. BRETTLE I hadn't the courage to face him; but when I did he hadn't no idea as I'd throw'd the pitcher, but thought as it had fell accidental, as the sayin' is.

The money it cost for to set that water-butt right, and tidy up the garden after that dog was a little fortune, and I don't believe as ever BROWN got all the money back as he'd paid for the dog, but he took care for to keep that dark, and if ever he said a word about anythin', I was always ready with askin' why he didn't bring home another dog?

TO A LITTLE MAID.

BY A POLICEMAN.
COME with me, little maid!
Nay shrink not, thus afraid-
I'll harm thee not!
Fly not, my love, from me-
I have a home for thee-
A fairy grot,

Where mortal eye
Can rarely pry,
There shall thy dwelling be!

List to me, while I tell
The pleasures of that cell,
O little maid!

What though its couch be rude,
Homely the only food

Within its shade?
No thought of care
Can enter there,
No vulgar swain intrude!
Come with me, little maid,
Come to that rocky shade,
I love to sing

Live with us, maiden rare-
Come, for we "want" thee there,
Thou elfin thing,

To work thy spell,

In some cool cell
In stately Pentonville!

CONTINUATIONS OF DRAMATIC HISTORIES.

Box AND Cox.

Ir will be remembered that immediately on the discovery of the fact that Cox was Box's brother-in the first burst of fraternal enthusiasm -they determined to occupy MRS. BOUNCER's apartments, jointly, during the remainder of their lives. But they did not get on very well together. Independently of the fact that Box was a reckless smoker, and that Cox abominated the odour of tobacco, their dispositions and temperaments were altogether uncongenial. Cox, a remarkably careful man, had saved a little money, the interest of which, added to his salary as a journeyman hatter, enabled him to live in modest comfort. He was, in short, a steady man of moderate desires, and extremely economical, not to say miserly, in his domestic arrangements. Box, on the other hand, was a "jolly dog." He was a dreadfully wild and dissipated young man, and although his occupation as a journeyman printer kept him pretty quiet during the night, yet as soon as he was released from his labours-which happened at half-past six every morning-he gave full scope to his dissipated tastes, and always "kept it up" to a very late hour indeed-seldom getting to bed before two or three o'clock in the afternoon. Of course, Box used frequently to borrow money of Cox, and Cox (who had a fine disposition and loved his brother tenderly) was at first delighted to do anything to oblige him, the more particularly so as Box, on his part, was always ready to promise any amount of interest; going as far even sometimes as seven or eight hundred per cent. But, unfortunately for their domestic happiness, it turned out that Box's disposition was nothing like as fine as Cox's disposition, for when his little promissory notes fell due, he ignored them in a manner which pained his good brother exceedingly, and the little domestic differences that ensued, caused them both to regret that, in the first burst of joy, at the discovery of their relationship, they had taken a ninety-nine years' lease of MRS. BOUNCER's rooms, with power to underlet, on her permission onlywhich she politely, but firmly, declined to give.

LINES TO TRUTH.

BY A CONFIRMED LIAR.
VASTLY Overrated Essence!
Slave to Matter, Time, and Space;
Bubbling up in effervescence

Of the frothiest common-place.
Foe to Fancy and its pleasures-
Giving to thy menial, Proof,
All Imagination's treasures
To be trampled under hoof.
Tell me, is there any merit

In thy being what thou art?
In the form thou dost inherit ?

In the facts thou dost impart ?
We are puppets, thou and I are.
(Talk about free-will, forsooth!)
I was born to be a liar;

Thou wast born to be the Truth.
Clearly, in a fight, the chances
Would be ten to one for me,

I contrive to make my fancies
Pass as representing thee;
While, if thou wert twice as clever
At that kind of game as I,
Obviously thou could'st never
Stoop to imitate a lie!

I shall never meet thee, maybe;
I embraced another walk,
When I was as yet a baby

And was learning how to talk.
Fare thee well! I cannot flatter;
And these verses are an act
Of deception-just a matter
Of opinion, not of fact.

The Young Housekeeper's Friend.

To CURE A SMOKY CHIMNEY.-Discontinue the use of a fire. This is infallible.

HOW TO GET NEW MILK IN LONDON.-Get the dairyman to send in the chalk and water separately and mix it as you want it.

HOW TO LET A HOUSE.-Let it alone.

Then a serious question arose as to what the family name really was-whether Box or Cox? In the absence of any decisive information as to the name of their common parents, they were compelled to fall back upon the best indirect evidence they could come across. Cox vindicated his claim to that name principally on the evidence of a piece of presentation-plate, on which was engraved or printed in some description of brown ink, the family crest-two cocks crowing, with the legend, "A presente from Ramsgatte." Box, on the other hand, contended that this piece of plate was, in an archæological sense, worthless, being (he maintained) evidently a love-token from the proprietress of bathing-machines at Margate and Ramsgate, to whom Cox was known to have been, at one time, attached-and consequently it could only have come into his possession at a recent date. Box rested his claim to the name which he had always borne, on a curious old drinking-goblet with a richly-embossed inscription, "For a Good Boy." This inscription (Box maintained) should have run thus: For a Good Box," the substitution of x for y being one of those unintentional corruptions which are so frequently the result of an accidental similarity between two letters. Box backed his argument with many actual instances in his own experience as a printer, and, as he with some show of reason, observed: "You have only to take the italic capital X and obliterate the right hand lower limb, and there you are!" Eventually they determined on a compromise, Box suggesting "Bocx" as the reasonable combination, and Cox suggesting "CoXB." Cox objected that Box's suggestion left his name virtually the same; and Box took the technical objection to Cox's suggestion, that it looked like a misprint, and was not capable of pronunciation. Eventually, however, they decided on CoxBox as a judicious compromise.

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Box (we will still call him so) ran so deeply into debt, and was so far in arrears with his share of MRS. BOUNCER's rent, that he eventually found himself compelled to marry her, as the only means of squaring the difficulty. He set up as a printer, with her money, and started a religious paper and is doing well. Cox (who has started as