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and his final dissolution of the ties that had bound him to college. All this Hal left out of the reported speech. He did it from disrespect to the sex. More, sir ; he had the unblushing impudence the other day, to tell me, on his honor, that he had rejected, during the past year, eighteen proposals of matrimony from as many lovely damsels. Think of that, Master Brook.' As for Hotspur and Jowl, they are bores of the first water. I should weary your patience, Mr. Speaker, and that of my audience, if I were to go into a discussion of their characters. (Bar. dolph here cried, go on! go on!) Beg pardon, gentlemen, I shall not go on. Having recently risen from a bed of sickness-being indeed, at this moment, as I may say, (pointing to the cofin,) almost at death's door-exhausted nature stops my gushing tongue. Jowl is a miserable sinner-he's in love. Hotspur's modesty is about an equal balance for his conscience-ho cannot be mitigated. (A noise outside was heard, but as it instantly died away, no notice was ta. ken of it.) And now, Mr. Speaker, I proceed to my last agonizing duty. (Low murmurs of grief, from Bardolph.) I wonder not, sir, at those tones of anguish which strike my listening ear. (Groans again.) Poor innocents! How it rends my heart of hearts thus to consign you (seizing the candle) to—by the way, Mr. Speaker, that resolution of censure. (Cheers himself.) I said it might be expected before I should sit down. I do not intend to sit down at all. I shall finish this business, and then adjourn myself. The resolution, therefore, may continue to be expected.”
Bardolph here applied the light, and, as the blaze flared up, began to stamp and cheer vociferously. He cheered not alone! A tremendous burst of applause, in full chorus with his own, echoed and re-echoed without. He sprang from the room, caught a glimpse of two very long legs and five or six short ones at the bottom of the stair-way, and that was all. He gathered up the ashes ; stored them sately away, and put up the coffin in silence ; meditating the while, on the somewhat free criticisms of character, in which he had been indulging. Recovering, however, from his momentary chagrin, he moved “ that the Secretary be instructed to record the proceedings of this meeting in his journal ;” and “that this meeting do forth with adjourn to his room,” both of which motions he declared to have been “passed," and, having received no reply to his inquiry whether the decision of the Chair was “doubted,” added that “the vote was unanimous," and walked off.
8 o'clock, January 29th. Cigars ordered, and lighted. Hotspur arose, and, after a long whitf, begged leave to state that "an acquaintance of his had commissioned him to present an article." The Secretary read as follows:
Messrs. Editors-It was at a dinner of pork that I fell in love. My sweet Sally is a bright-ered, rosy-cheeked, country lass, and I am a country boy. We bad served up to us, one day when I dined with her father, a “spare-rib." The name of the dish was apropos. I was witty upon it. Wit is my vein. Sally luughed, said I was a good-for-nothing fellow, and ran out of the room, carrying with her one heart more than she had brought into it. I came to college and have not seen her since. But as it was pork that brought me into trouble, so pork, if any thing, shall bring me out. I believe in curing yourself by “a hair of the dog that bit you." I have therefore provided myself with the extremity of a pig's curl. I have bent it into the form of a circle, as an emblem of eternal affection, and neatly deco rated it with blue ribbon. I shall send it to Sally, as a Valentine, accompanied by the following lines, which you will, no doubt, be glad to publish. 'If I should prove successful in my suit, I will let you know.
Yours, Oh! Sally, there are seasons when the soul, From her proud height above the midway air,
Filled with the fervor of o'ertiowing love, Down to the miry depths of dire distress,
Curl not that ripe and rosy lip in scom!
Light not with wrath that black and lustrous eye!
Too long this breast a hopeless grief hath bome, But there are seasons whon the heart is wrung And I must tell my tale of wo or die.
With agonies of doubt and fierce despair; Gaze on this emblem of th' eternal flame When the opspringing soul herself is fluny, That crisps my heart, and pity while you blame.
Voted, That the lines be rejected, and Hotspur reprimanded for disrespect to the Club.
[ Some typographical errors were passed over without rection in the first part of " Recollections of Sicily," which appeared in the last number. This was because the author, being in Philadelphia, had no opportunity to read the proofs. If we could possibly find room for a list of errata, we would insert one here. But we trust that this explanation will satisfy both author and readers.