a burst of confidence on the subject of his early years. Choruses, too, were sung, some being of an abnormal and even gymnastic character, as witness the following. The vocalist, suiting action to words, commenced:

'One finger and thumb keep movingKeep moving

To drive dull care away!' Others joining in with voice and gesture on a repetition of the lines, the exhortation increased in its demands, Two fingers and thumbs' being next in requisition, and so on, until finally, at the words,

་

'Two arms and two legs keep moving!' all present were jumping up and down in an energetically ludicrous manner only conceivable in insane Shaking Quakers. As this occurred at something like 2 A.M., certain boarders overhead and below were unreasonable enough to remonstrate, but our landlady's company having sanctioned the festivities during the earlier part of the evening, such complaints were treated with merited derision. We have but an indistinct idea at what hour the party broke up, having quitted it at 6 A.M., leaving cards predominant.

It was pre-eminently a masculine establishment, and appeared the more so, as the few lady-boarders generally preferred taking their meals within the sanctity of their own apartments. They, however, sometimes congregated on wintry afternoons in a gloomy old parlour appertaining to the larger and duller of the houses, where we once surprised a select party of three engaged in the consumption of cigars and hot brandy and water. One of these, the proprietress of a rather prettyish face and a large-headed child (which latter article was periodically brought to see her), had a room immediately adjoining ours; and for some time we were in error as to the sex of the occupant, being misled by her proficiency in the art of whistling. Our undeception only occurred upon tapping at her door for the purpose of reigniting a lamp, which we had knocked over and extinguished among the bedclothes. At a later period, when a slight intimacy had sprung up, she occasionally borrowed our boots on rainy evenings to walk to the theatre in, receiving with great good humour any playful allusions to the (presumably) lovely limbs they were honoured by encasing and once telling us to come round to Burton's as

she 'played a leg-part. On our return from that place of popular entertainment, she was very anxious to learn 'how she looked from the parquette,' and 'whether we heard her distinctly?' She had but three lines and a monosyllable to utter during the entire performance!

But, unquestionably, the lioness of the place was the tragedienne before alluded to. She was a handsome, jolly woman, with a deep, rich voice, and would ask you how you did, or make an observation about the weather in such heartfelt, cordial tones as imparted quite a glow to the recipient. She had a will of her own, too, and it was popularly supposed that her husband (who played walking gentleman, and was some years her junior) knew it. She was also a little jealous of him—not without reason. We fancy he had an equal attachment to champagne and to his wife, and it was said the lady herself had a penchant for the former. With two anecdotes in which she figures, the present chapter may fitly conclude.

There was a hard-headed and generally obnoxious Scottish boarder, who, to some originally disagreeable characteristics, added the one of occasional intoxication; when he was prone to discourse about John Knox and the 'Free Kirk' of his country. The actors used to 'sell' him by challenging his admiration for imaginary passages in non-existent novels by Walter Scott; and to excite his anger by pretending to mistake him for an Irishman; as also by addressing him as MacWuggles, MacScratcher, MacGrits, MacTurn'emup, and similiar titles. Now he, coming home one night from an adjacent bar-room, and availing himself of the opening of the street-door by the servant of our tragedienne (whether impelled by antecedent whisky-skins or his natural obtuseness, we know not), followed the girl up-stairs to her lady's apartment; apologising for his presence, when questioned, by a muttered reference to his ordinary theological topic. Mrs not considering this satisfactory, shrieked for her husband, who, like his wife, was in undress, and leaping up at the summons, pursued the invader to our chamber-door, where, overtaking him, he, with his lady's assistance, administered severe fistical chastisement. Upon our issuing forth, lamp in hand, an eminently dramatic tableau was visible. The howling Caledonian, with the sanguine stream of life gushing from his nose, and his countenance further ornamented

UNPOLISHED boys, when you ask them the way to any special place, are apt to answer, 'follow your nose, and you are sure to go right.' I know not how this direction may have served others: for my own part, my nose has often led me wrong. Indeed, I have sometimes thought it a pity that we cannot smell the polar star as well as see it. Ascertaining the point of the compass in which our desired goal lies, we might then, by snuffing as we walked, follow our noses to some purpose. Moreover, this would extend the utility of the star in another way. At present it serves the traveller only on bright nights. But if, to use Hamlet's verb, we could 'nose' it as well as eye it, we should derive help from it on dark nights, and all through the day. See where I am wandering: the polar star is not required to lead many noses in England now-a-days. But I have a story of a man who once followed his nose to some purpose.

About the close of the last century, William Sedley was apprenticed to a farmer near Nottingham. At the time his father was a butcher in the town: his books showed good returns. He had been a Tom Painite;' in religion, sceptical; in politics, republican. The Society of Sons of Freedom' accounted him a leading member; not for his eloquence assuredly, though in many speeches he had liberally disposed of the king and peers of England and of their property; but, I am afraid, for his money. Incorruptible patriots uncover to the man with the purse. The framework-knitters looked upon him as a faithful Abdiel amongst that company of the faithless, well-doing tradesmen. They, the chorus of the play of liberty, uncovered to him in the market-place. These distinctions gratified the pompous butcher. Though to be large among the little, is really smaller than being little among the large, it seems greater. John Sedley accepted the seeming; he magnanimously sacrified the being. Autocrat was his fancy. So that he had it, it was of small mo

ment whether blues or tricolors gave it him.

So for a time he ruled amongst the tricolors. But one spring day an event occurred which wholly changed the politics of the republican butcher. Meat was at a very high rate, and continued to rise higher. The mob had been told a great many times that they were the people,' that everything belonged to the people. One evil May-day, they got out of bed under the delusion that they were the people, and marched to the shambles to attest their right to their own. They tore down the shutters and doors; they loaded their wives and children and themselves with the meat; they seized the butchers' books, and burned them, like necromancers and heretics, in the market-place. This made meat no cheaper; but it made John Sedley a Tory.

He ceased to subscribe to the Jacobin periodicals. He found no more money for fiery tracts. He received no drapers' invoices for ribands of three colours any longer; nor did he hand them over to his housemaid to stitch into cockades. He gave half-a-guinea toward the martyrdom of Thomas Paine (in straw and intention). He even became a wooden-well-holder in St Nicholas' Church, and went thither regularly Sunday morning and evening. Nor was this the loss it at first appeared. Though two entire hours, twice on Sunday, was a great sacrifice of business to propriety, he had a compensation in the gain of the hours heretofore spent with the 'Sons of Freedom.' And after two or three Sundays, he found more positive benefit therein. It gave him a quiet opportunity to examine his weekly accounts.

But the younger Sedley could not get over his republicanism with the ease of the elder; for Master William also had been bitten with the furor libertatis. The disease was epidemical in England at that time. But men caught it according to their constitutions, and were cured of it ac

A COLD JOB.-One of our most distinguished and eloquent lawyers, while entering his cold bed on a sharp night lately, was overheard to say to himself, Well, of all ways of getting a living, the worst a man could follow would be going about town in such nights as this, and getting into bed for folks.'

Fontenelle was ninety-eight years of age when a young lady asked him at what time of life men lose all taste of gallantry. 'Indeed,' replied the old gentleman, 'you must ask that question of some one older than myself!'

An Irish gentleman thus addressed an indolent servant who indulged himself in bed at a late hour in the morning:- Fall to rising, you spalpeen, fall to rising. Don't stand there lying in bed all day.'

RECRUITED. The man whose feelings were 'worked up' has obtained a fresh supply.

NOVEL MEETING.-Dr X-attended a masquerade ball. In the motley and happy throng he falls in with a fair pilgrim in black silk, whose charming person, snow-white neck, and bewitchingly coquettish airs, awaken in his soul the most rapturous love. She casts upon him looks of the most languishing tenderness; he revels in the hope of having made a blissful conquest. He masters up his courage and ventures to address her:-'Who art thou, lovely mask?' asks Dr Xalmost melted in the glow of love.-'Is it possible you do not know me, doctor?' lisps the lady in black silk.-'No, upon my honour I do not know thee.'-'Bethink yourself, doctor.'-'Ah! thou art surely the gracious fairy who has appeared to me to-day, for the fourth time, to open the gates of bliss.' 'You mistake, doctor, I am no fairy.''Ah-whoart thou then?'-'I am the well-known lady to whom you have now these nine weeks been indebted in the sum of two dollars and seven shillings for washing and ironing!' The doctor stood like a petrified herring.

'Sixty

HIBERNIAN CANDOUR.-An Irishman boasted that he had skated sixty miles a-day. miles,' exclaimed an auditor; 'that is a great distance; it must have been accomplished when the days were longest.'-'To be sure it was; I admit that,' cried the candid Hibernian.

A DISAGREEABLE HYPOTHESIS.-Two persons were once engaged in an argument. 'Suppose,' said one of them, 'that you owe me two thousand crowns.'-'I wish, replied the other, 'that you would suppose some other hypothesis.'

It is a strange thing, said a cynic, that friars eat nothing but fish, and yet that they always smell of shoulder of mutton.

THE LATEST INFORMATION. M. d'E- was relating a story. M. De B- said to him, "That cannot be, for I have a letter of the 31st, which says the contrary.'-'Ah,' replied the narrator, 'but mine is of the 32d!'

IMMORTALITY.-Bantru, in presenting a poet to M. d'Hemery, addressed him, 'Sir, I present to you a person who will give you immortality; but you must give him something to live upon In the meantime.'

A stingy Manchester manufacturer invited a gentleman to dine with him. The service was of the best description, but when the cover was lifted, two small chops only presented themselves. 'You see your dinner,' said the host.Yes,' said the guest, taking possession of both chops, but wheere's yours?'

M. DE BANTRU.-M. De Bantru told me one day, that during his embassy to Spain he went one day to visit the library in the Escurial, and saw at once, from the conversation which he had with the librarian, that he was an extremely ill-informed and incompetent person for the situation. He was afterwards introduced to the king, with whom he talked of the beauties of the palace, and of the choice which he had made of a librarian. He told him he had immediately perceived that he was no common person, and that, in his opinion, his majesty would do well to make him superintendant of his finances. 'Why so?' said the king.-'Sire,' said Bantru, 'as he has taken so little from your books, it is probable he may take as little from your fi

nances.'

M. SACHOT.-M. Sachot was pleading for a baker, whose nose, or part of it, had been pulled off by a neighbour in a quarrel in the street. The advocate on the other side, who scarcely possessed a nose at all, in the course of his speech, attempted to turn the whole matter into ridicule. My brother,' said Sachot, in his reply, 'seems to treat the matter lightly. Very probably he thinks a nose is of no consequence.'

A CONDITIONAL GUARANTEE.-A Norman, who had stolen a horse at Rouen, went to sell him at Falaise. The purchaser having agreed about the price, suspected that the animal might have been stolen, and said to the seller, 'Will you warrant him everywhere?'-'Everywhere,' said the Norman, except Rouen; but I would advise you to steer clear of that town.'

HOW TO RISE IN THE WORLD.-A 'bore' buttonholed Sam the other day, with the question, 'How to rise in the world.' Sam grew impatient. 'Well, sir, I'll tell you. Undertake to approach a sore-headed bull with a red scarf on your neck. I'll guarantee your upward progress immediately on the completion of the experiment.'

THE GASCON TURNED ARCHITECT.-A Gascon, who was at a loss for á dinner, seeing Frère Romain, the celebrated architect, superintending the operations of the Bridge of the Tuilleries, determined to dine at his expense. He kept looking attentively at the work, as if he had been a connoisseur-muttered between his teeth -measured what had been erected-walked with great gravity across-and seemed to be engaged in an elaborate criticism of the whole. Frère Romain, a little uneasy, went up to him, and asked him what he thought of it. Brother,' said the Gascon, 'I have some important information to give you about this bridge; but I am hungry-I must dine first.' The Frère immediately invited him to dine with him. The Gascon did not require much pressing, and acquitted himself at table to admiration. After dinner was over, Romain led him back to the bridge. The Gascon walked up and down for a few minutes, and then turning to his host, observed, 'My friend, you have done wisely in building your bridge across the river, for if you had tried to build it the long way, the devil's in it if you would have succeeded.' He then made his bow, and took leave of the confounded architect.

QUANTITY AND QUALITY.-A marquis said to a financier, 'I would have you to know that I am a man of quality.'-'And I,' replied the financier, 'am a man of quantity.'

UNPOLISHED boys, when you ask them the way to any special place, are apt to answer, 'follow your nose, and you are sure to go right.' I know not how this direction may have served others: for my own part, my nose has often led me wrong. Indeed, I have sometimes thought it a pity that we cannot smell the polar star as well as see it. Ascertaining the point of the compass in which our desired goal lies, we might then, by snuffing as we walked, follow our noses to some purpose. Moreover, this would extend the utility of the star in another way. At present it serves the traveller only on bright nights. But if, to use Hamlet's verb, we could 'nose' it as well as eye it, we should derive help from it on dark nights, and all through the day. See where I am wandering: the polar star is not required to lead many noses in England now-a-days. But I have a story of a man who once followed his nose to some purpose.

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About the close of the last century, William Sedley was apprenticed to a farmer near Nottingham. At the time his father was a butcher in the town: his books showed good returns. He had been a 'Tom Painite;' in religion, sceptical; in politics, republican. The Society of Sons of Freedom' accounted him a leading member; not for his eloquence assuredly, though in many speeches he had liberally disposed of the king and peers of England and of their property; but, I am afraid, for his money. Incorruptible patriots uncover to the man with the purse. The framework-knitters looked upon him as a faithful Abdiel amongst that company of the faithless, well-doing tradesmen. They, the chorus of the play of liberty, uncovered to him in the market-place. These distinctions gratified the pompous butcher. Though to be large among the little, is really smaller than being little among the large, it seems greater. John Sedley accepted the seeming; he magnanimously sacrified the being. Autocrat was his fancy. So that he had it, it was of small mo

ment whether blues or tricolors gave it him.

So for a time he ruled amongst the tricolors. But one spring day an event occurred which wholly changed the politics of the republican butcher. Meat was at a very high rate, and continued to rise higher. The mob had been told a great many times that they were 'the people,' that everything belonged to the people. One evil May-day, they got out of bed under the delusion that they were the people, and marched to the shambles to attest their right to their own. They tore down the shutters and doors; they loaded their wives and children and themselves with the meat; they seized the butchers' books, and burned them, like necromancers and heretics, in the market-place. This made meat no cheaper; but it made John Sedley a Tory.

He ceased to subscribe to the Jacobin periodicals. He found no more money for fiery tracts. He received no drapers' invoices for ribands of three colours any longer; nor did he hand them over to his housemaid to stitch into cockades. He gave half-a-guinca toward the martyrdom of Thomas Paine (in straw and intention). He even became a wooden-well-holder in St Nicholas' Church, and went thither regularly Sunday morning and evening. Nor was this the loss it at first appeared. Though two entire hours, twice on Sunday, was a great sacrifice of business to propriety, he had a compensation in the gain of the hours heretofore spent with the 'Sons of Freedom.' And after two or three Sundays, he found more positive benefit therein. It gave him a quiet opportunity to examine his weekly accounts.

But the younger Sedley could not get over his republicanism with the ease of the elder; for Master William also had been bitten with the furor libertatis. The disease was epidemical in England at that time. But men caught it according to their constitutions, and were cured of it ac

cording to their constitutions. His autocratic disposition had led John Sedley into it; incense pleasant to that disposition had kept him there. But William became republican from the emulation and hope that glows in a young man. The young were more susceptible to this disease than the old-ay, and are; almost every youth whom God is about to use passes through it. External influences also furthered its growth in William-the Greek and Roman heroes in schoolbooks, the lean and meagre framework-knitters who passed him in the streets. Hereditary causes also must be counted. An infusion of the parental vanity had crept into his make. William had a clear fluent voice, and could speak without stumbling. He raised it high, deepened it into loudness, dropped it low, did what he would with it. Now to talk loudly and clearly, will convince and carry those whom talking wisely never would. This, and the recollection that he was a rich man's son, got William Sedley great name amongst the Sons of Freedom.

'Father,' said William, one day, they have been ducking poor Ned Sandly in the Leen.'

'Poor Ned!' said his father. 'He's a past-hope Jacobin. Why, boy, he lent the 'Rights of Man' to our prentice Ben. See me catch Ben looking on that book again, and I come down upon him like a thousand o' bricks. I'm right glad they've given it him, Will.'

'It's miserable to see it,' answered Sedley the son. 'One bursts with riches, and one starves, while all have the same right. No man has a right to what he doesn't labour for. How can a man take land for his own? He might as well claim fire and air.' And William made ready to pour down a torrent of the free-and-easy doctrines of Nottingham Sans-culottes.

John foresaw the storm coming. 'I won't have it, Will,' shouted he; 'so stop your catalogue.'

Why, father, you've said all these things yourself."

This was always the last and hardest blow to poor Sedley, senior. William knew it. He never used it in the beginning of their frays. But when the thought of the liberty and

equality which was not, but ought to be, had made him sufficiently wild and sufficiently forgetful, he would hurl it at his father. There is nothing stings like a true tu-quoque. All his enemies and half his friends had wounded turncoat John with these irritating missiles. And his own son amongst the conspirators! Et te Brute!

However, the Nottingham Cæsar did not decorously cover his head with his mantle and fall. He awoke the entire lion, and roared.

Towns

"You shall out of the town. are breeding tubs o' rebellion. A lad o' sixteen goovern England, and set the world to rights! You shall out o' the town. I've often said I 'ud prantice you to Faymer Wilson. Now, by George, I will. None of your spouting clubs of trayson and blaspheeming there. Teach the cows and pigs equality. Tell pitchforks and dunghills they're free and equal. You go, lad.'

Accordingly William went. Farmer Wilson lived near Radclyffe, about six miles from Nottingham. His acquaintance with Sedley was originally a trade one. In politics they quarrelled: but in buying and selling sheep and beeves they agreed. Wilson would have hated Sedley as a Jacobin, if he had not respected him as the butcher who paid the best price. 'Pockets before politics,' as satirical Sedley would observe, when he quoted this fact at the conventions of the Sons of Freedom.

But, since the butcher's conversion, acquaintanceship had ripened into friendship. It was a convenient thing to Sedley to have such a friend. As princes in the middle ages, who presented their children with choice archbishoprics, hurried them through all the ecclesiastical offices of acolyte, subdeacon, deacon, priest, bishop, in a day or two; so rapidly did the farmer initiate the butcher into the shibboleths of Toryism. Mr Sedley was startled to find himself a full-grown Tory, before he had felt more than one definite shock in his old belief. He was no stickler, giving up this point cautiously, and then that. He flung away altogether. He knew what newspapers to read; what__cutting utterances to make about Mr Fox; what glowing ones about Mr Pitt. So adept was he, that had you met him