What is the result? The obstructions remain unmoved. The people curse because the car lags,-or, if it does move, 'tis at the expense of a broken wheel and jaded and sore-backed team. I tell you, the thing won't pay. The time will come when the nasal promontories of these disinterested grinders will be put to the stone, instead of their hardware. I am really afraid that the machine is a-going to stop. The grease is giving out amazing fast. It is beginning to creak on its axis. Gentlemen, it is my private opinion, confidentially expressed, that all the "grit" is pretty near worn off.

Mr. Speaker, you must excuse me for my latitudinosity and circumlocutoriness. My old blunderbuss scatters amazingly; but, if anybody gets peppered, it ain't my fault, if they are in the way. Sir, these candadical, mahogany-faced gentrywhat do they know about the blessings of freedom? About as much, sir, as a toad-frog does of high glory. Do they think they can escape me? I'll follow them through pandemonium and high water!

These are the ones that have got our liberty-pole off its perpendicularity. 'Tis they who would rend the Stars and Stripes -that noble flag, the blood of our revolutionary fathers embalmed in its red; the purity of the cause for which they died, denoted by the white; the blue-the freedom they attained, like the azure air that wraps their native hills, and lingers on their lovely plains.

The high Bird of Liberty sits perched upon the topmost branch; but there is no secession salt on his glorious tail. I fear he will no more spread his noble pinions to soar beyond the azure regions of the borcal pole. But let not Missouri pull the last feather from his sheltering wing, to plume a shaft to pierce his noble breast; or, what is the same, make a pen to sign a secession ordinance. Alas! poor bird! if they drive you from the branches of the hemlock of the North, and the palmetto of the South, come over to the gum-tree of the West, and we will protect your noble birdship while water grows and grass runs! Mr. Speaker, I will subside for the present.

THE BREWER'S COACHMAN.-TAYLOR,

HONEST William, an easy and good natur'd fellow,
Would a little too oft get a little too mellow;
Body coachman he was to an eminent brewer-
No better e'er sat on a box, to be sure.

His coach was kept clean, and no mothers or nurses
Took that care of their babes that he took of his horses,
He had these-ay, and fifty good qualities more;
But the business of tippling could ne'er be got o'er:
So his master effectually mended the matter,
By hiring a man who drank nothing but water.
Now, William, says he, you see the plain case;
Had you drank as he does, you'd kept a good place.
Drink water! quoth William-had all men done so,
You'd never have wanted a coachman, I trow.

They're soakers, like me, whom you load with reproaches,
That enable you brewers to ride in your coaches.

TROUBLES OF NERVOUSNESS.-W. B. BERNARD.

BIGGS, BETTY, ASPEN AND DR. OXYDE.

(BETTY sweeping the room, and BIGGS arranging the table.)

Biggs. Well, Betty, I have made up my mind to look out for another place. This will be my last one, if I keep it another week.

Bet. La, John! do you think you will better yourself? Every master or missus has their humor.

Biggs. That I expects; but it's a hard thing when their humor makes everybody melancholy. Did you ever live with a nervous man before?

Biggs. Then I says this that all people talk of a toad ander a harrow, and fish in a frying pan, is quiet and comfort

to it Do all we can, nothing will please him. He won't believe in such a thing as accident, because, he says, you and I and everybody else is in a conspiracy to worry him.

Bet. But how do we know, John, what he has to abroad?

worry him

Biggs. Well, I don't say I know who it is pulls the bell; I only know that we hears the clapper. And then it's such a trifling matter sets him off! A speck on the cloth will jog his nerves as much as the smashing of a bank; and then, what's worse than all, he's doubly nervous.

Bet. Doubly nervous!

Biggs. Yes; nervous strong, as well as nervous weak. Now, I shouldn't mind living with a man who was so delicate, that whenever he shook himself, he wouldn't shake me; but, you know, when master begins to tremble, he makes us all imitate him.

Aspen. (Without.) Biggs! Biggs.

Biggs. Eh! he's up! Run, Betty, for the urn. No-stop. Hush! don't run. Steal your steps, or he 'll say you're rob bing his rest. (Betty goes out on tiptoe.) Now, let me see if the room's in order. Yes-well. What will be the first thing I shall catch it for this morning? I know-he 'll abuse me for waking him up so early.

Asp. Look at this watch-half-past ten! How dare you suffer me to waste my time in bed till half-past ten, on a Monday morning?

Biggs. You told me, sir, last night, not to disturb you, because you were not well.

Asp. Nonsense, sir! Did you ever hear of a man getting wel! by lying in bed on a Monday morning?

Biggs. Indeed, sir, it was not my fault

Asp. Don't talk, sir—a nervous man can't bear talking,
Biggs. But if you 'll hear a reason, sir—

Asp. Don't reason, sir-a nervous man can't bear reasoning

(Sits at table.) Where's the urn? (Betty steals in with it, and placing it on the table, throws down a plate-Aspen starts.) What's that?

f. Bet. An accident, sir

Asp. An accident! One of your accidents-a subtle mode of irritation!

Bet. Dear sir! I never thought

Asp. Stuff! you think of nothing else. (Exit BETTY.) You know my weakness of system, and you are all leagued to lay me in my grave! Here's a breakfast! Eggs-bulletsmuffins-brickbats-lumps of sugar large enough to pave a street! More of your designs! Where's the paper? Biggs. (Handing a newspaper.) Here, sir.

Asp. (Dropping it.) Damp!

Biggs. I held it to the fire half an hour, sir.

Asp. Give it me. Papers are usually dry enough in November. (Reads.) "Bankrupts-Old Bailey-SuicideHorrible Atrocity! The house of Mr. Crank, a wealthy manufacturer, near Leeds, was entered on the night of the 17th ult. by a gang of ruffians, who threw the unfortunate gentleman into a paddock which contained a bull, who immediately caught him on his horns, and threw him back into the window!" (Throws down the paper.) Here's news! Talk of the good of newspapers! What is their good? All that they do is to make people nervous. (A double knock.)

Biggs. The postman

Asp. Biggs, I thought I told you, sir, to muffle that knocker! Do you know that every rap at that door goes to my heart Are you aware of the weakness of my system?—

Biggs. Yes, sir

Asp. Do you wish me, then, to make your body the door, and my hand that knocker?

Biggs. No, sir; but if I muffle the knocker, people will think you are ill, and then you will have them coming here all day long.

Asp. Go to the door. Stop, sir! Come back, sir! More of your annoyances!

Biggs. What, sir?

Asp. (Pointing to the ground.) Look at that pin! (BIGGS picks up the pin, and exits.) Vivian is right-decidedly right. If I hope to continue my existence, I must leave London. My antipathy to London increases every day. Such a hot-bed for roguery! A lamentable fact-every one that lives in London must be a rogue-he can't help it-it 's in the atmosphere !— my shattered system is a melancholy evidence. Here I am. surrounded every day by a crowd of people, who come cringing and begging solely to swindle me-nothing else. They know the state of my nerves, and they presume on it. My weakness is their strength. If the fact required further confirmation— (Biggs enters with a letter-Aspen opens it)—here it is. Here's a rascal! a fellow-a plumber and glazier-lives somewhere in a dirty lane-I hire him to lead my house-very well-he leads my house, and my warehouse, which I did not order him to lead-sends in his bill-I won't pay him-tell him to take back his lead.

(Enter BIGGS, with a card.)

Biggs. Gentleman 's at the door, sir.

Asp. Doctor Oxyde-my new physician-show him in. (Exit BIGGS.) The very man I wanted! Lucky he 's comeI can't live without advice.

(Enter DOCTOR OXYDE and BIGGS, who places chairs
and exit.)

Doct. Mr. Aspen

Asp. Yes, sir.

Doct. I have done myself the pleasure of calling, at the

request of your friend, Mr. Vivian.

Asp. Bob-perfectly right. Take a chair.

(They sit.)

Doct. Mr. Vivian informs me that you are subject to nerv

ous irritability.

Asp. A victim to it-a martyr, sir-a mere case of fiddlestrings-jar at the least touch!

Doct. Is it possible?

Asp. Don't I show it? Did you ever see such a fag-end