Eve. Mr. Evelyn has no politics at all!-Did you ever play at battledore?

Both. Battledore !

Eve. Battledore !—that is, a contest between two parties: both parties knock about something with singular skillsomething is kept up-high-low-here-there--everywhere -nowhere! How grave are the players! how anxious the by-standers! how noisy the battledores! But when this something falls to the ground, only fancy-it's nothing but cork and feather! Go and play by yourselves,-I'm no hand at it!

Stout. (Aside.) Sad ignorance!-Aristocrat!

Gloss. Heartless principles !--Parvenu!

Stout. Then you don't go against us?—I'll bring Popkins to-morrow.

Gloss. Keep yourself free till I present Cipher to you. Stout. I must go to inquire after Hopkins. The return of Popkins will be an era in history.

(Exit.

Gloss. I must be off to the club-the eyes of the country are upon Grogenhole. If Cipher fail, the constitution is gone!

(Exit.

Eve. (At table.) Sharp, come here, (Sharp advances,) let me look at you! You are my agent, my lawyer, my man of business. I believe you honest; but what is honesty ?— where does it exist?-in what part of us?

Sharp. In the heart, I suppose.

Eve. Mr. Sharp, it exists in the pocket! Observe! I lay this piece of yellow carth on the table-I contemplate your both; the man there-the gold here! Now, there is many a man in yonder streets, honest as you are, who moves, thinks, feels, and reasons as well as we do; excellent in form-imperishable in soul; who, if his pockets were three days empty, would sell thought, reason, body, and soul too, for that little. coin! Is that the fault of the man ?-no! it is the fault of mankind! God made man-Sir, behold what mankind have made a god! When I was poor I hated the world; now I am rich I despise it. Fools-knaves-hypocrites!

SAM SMITH'S SOLILOQUY.-FANNY FERN.

CERTAINLY-matrimony is an invention of. Well, no matter who invented it. I'm going to try it. Where's my blue coat with the bright brass buttons? The woman has yet to be born who can resist that; and my buff vest and neck-tic, too may I be shot, if I don't offer them both to the little Widow Pardiggle this very night. what a name for such a rose-bud. I'll re-christen her by the euphonious name of Smith. She'll have me, of course. She wants a husband,—I want a wife: there's one point already in which we perfectly agree.

"Pardiggle!"

Pardiggle!" Phœbus!

Do

What the mischief ails this cravat? It must be the cold that makes my hand tremble so there-that'll do; that's quite an inspiration. Brummel himself couldn't go beyond that. Now for the widow; bless her little round face! I'm immensely obliged to old Pardiggle for giving her a quit claim. I'll make her as happy as a little robin. Do you think I'd bring a tear into her lovely blue eye? you think I'd sit, after tea, with my back to her, and my feet upon the mantel, staring up chimney for three hours together? Do you think I'd leave her little blessed side, to dangle round oyster-saloons and theaters? Do I look like a man to let a woman flatten her pretty little nose against the window-panę night after night, trying to see me reel up street? No. Mr. and Mrs. Adam were not more beautiful in their nuptialbower, than I shall be with the Widow Pardiggle.

Refused by a widow! Who ever heard of such a thing? Well, there's one comfort; nobody'll believe it. She is not so very pretty after all her eyes are too small, and her hands are rough and red-dy-not so very ready either, confound the gipsy! What amazing pretty shoulders she has! Well, who Ten to one, she'd have set up that wretch of a l'ardiggle for my model. Who wants to be Pardiggle 2d? I am glad she didn't have me. I ́mean, I'm glad I didn't have

cares?

her!

THE USEFUL YOUNG MAN.

WHAT! make myself useful!-indeed, ma'am, I can't-
'Tis not my vocation, and really I shan't.

What! come when I'm call'd, and do just as desir'd,
Then take myself off when no longer requir'd,
Run, jump, fetch and carry, live but to obey,
Then barely be thank'd, and kick'd out of the way!
That forms, I assure you, no part of my plan--
Indeed, ma'am, I am not a useful young man.

I know how they're used by the merciless fair-
'Tis Tom, pray, come here; or 'tis Tom, pray, go there;
Or Tom, my good creature, just pop on your hat,
And borrow me this thing, or purchase us that;
Or make yourself useful, and change us this book;
Or write us a passage from Moore's Lalla Rookh;
Or I know you'll oblige us to fasten this fan;-
Oh, dear! what a drudge is a useful young man!

But endless his ills when he goes to a rout,-
La! Mary, my dear, there's Miss Cross sitting out;
Do find her a swain;-then they look the beaux o'er,
And the useful young man's trotted up to the bore;
Or, while snuffing the candles, the good-natured pet
Is dragged from the tea-room to make up a set,
Where turban'd old ladies will dance if they can,
While they snap, sneer, and snarl, at the useful young m.n

When the party breaks up and the dancing is done,
'Midst the last dying flashes of folly and fun,
Should some bright-eyed girl have to go home alone,

By some rude, selfish fellow she's seized, ten to one;
While the useful young man shivers off through the snow,
With some ugly old maid that 's a long way to go;

For such are the ladies that always trepan

That poor helpless victim, the useful young man !

THE KISS IN SCHOOL.*

A DISTRICT School, not far away,
'Mid Berkshire hills, one winter's day
Was humming with its wonted noise
Of three-score mingled girls and boys—
Some few upon their tasks intent,
But more on furtive mischief bent;
The while the master's downward look
Was fastened on a copy-book-
Rose sharp and clear a rousing smack!
As 'twere a battery of bliss

Let off in oue tremendous kiss!

"What's that?" the startled master cries:
"That, thir," a little imp replies,
"Wath William Willith, if you pleathe―
I thaw him kith Thuthannah Peathe!"
With frown to make a statue thrill,
The master thundered,-" Hither, Will!"
Like wretch o'ertaken in his track
With stolen chattels on his back,
Will hung his head in fear and shame,
And to that awful presence came—
A great, green, bashful simpleton,
The butt of all good-natured fun.
With smile suppressed, and birch upraised,
The threatener faltered,—“I'm amazed

That you, my biggest pupil should

Be guilty of an act so rude!

Before the whole set school to boot

What evil genius put you to't?"

"'Twas she, herself, sir," sobbed the lad,

"I didn't mean to be so bad

But when Susannah shook her curls,

And whispered, I was 'fraid of girls,

*The above incident in a district school, was described by Mr. William Pitt Palmer, in an address before "The Literary Society," in Stockbridge, Mass

And dursn't kiss a baby's doll,
I couldn't stand it, sir, at all!

But up

and kissed her on the spot;

I know-boo-hoo-I ought to not;
But somehow from her looks-boo-hoo-
I thought she kind o' wished me to!

KILLING A BLUE BOTTLE.

AT Neufchatel, in France, where they prepare
Cheeses that set us longing to be mites,
There dwelt a farmer's wife, famed for her rare
Skill in these small quadrangular delights,
Where they were made, they sold for the immense
Price of three sous a-piece;

But as salt-water made their charms increase,
In England the fix'd rate was eighteen-pence.

This damsel had to help her on the farm,
To milk her cows and feed her hogs,
A Gascon peasant, with a sturdy arm
For digging or for carrying logs,

But in his noddle weak as any baby,

In fact a gaby,

And such a glutton when you came to feed him,

That Wantley's dragon, who ate barns and churches. As if they were geese and turkies,'

(Vide the Ballad,) scarcely could exceed him.
One morn she had prepared a monstrous bowl
Of cream, like nectar,

And wouldn't go to church (good careful soul)
Till she had left it safe with a protector;
So she gave strict injunctions to the Gascon,
To watch it while his mistress was to mass gone.