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How far this may be supposed to interfere with of apoplectic tendency as belongs to almost every Enthe so-called “Monroe doctrine," and how far that glish squire who has no dislike of mottled beef and doctrine would be worth the price of war, we throw | Cambridge ale-to wit, a pleasant rosiness of face. out as a juicy nut for the political wiseacres to But, as he sat on the Bench of the Court-room, after crack their teeth withal!
| delivering an impressive charge, he was observed to
nod, and gradually to sink : the servitors of the By a pleasant circumbendibus, we pounce again court ran to his assistance, and removed his heavy upon the Paris papers. We find there, that the wig; but he was too far gone to speak, and by the agreeable fish-story of Agassiz and the Californian time they had fairly carried him out of the court, he has found its way to the other side of the water, and, was dead. naturally enough, has excited the wonderment of the It was an English death." quidnuncs in the world of science. The reader And now, for contrast, as our theme is gloomy, knows of the story, doubtless ; how a certain Cali- we will look at a French death. fornian (an odd nativity for scientific discovery !), Maître (we will call him by that name) was a wishing to tempt his appetite with a broiled fish to gardener to a gentleman's establishment, not far his breakfast, threw his line, baited with shrimp, away from Paris. He had a strange love for flowers into a bay of that country of golden sands. He and trees, and tended them as gently as a mother presently took, one after the other, a male and fe would tend a child. But he conceived a strange, male fish : their appearance does not seem particu- and a truly French desire, to discover the secret larly to have attracted his attention. He threw his principle by which plants grew. It was not enough line again, and again, and again. But luck was for him that the showers and sunshine, and the earth gone. He bethought himself of changing his bait; he put about his plants, made them luxurious and and, naturally enough for a fisherman (though most fruitful; but he watched for hours together the ununnatural in any one else than a fisherman or a Cal. folding of a bud, and traced, so far as he was able, ifornian), he sliced a fragment from the stomach of the little fibres leading from root to blossom. one of his victims. The wound revealed a nest of The old man in the story of Picciola made the some twenty lively little fishes, within the parent flower a companion; but our gardener made his all fish; and on being thrown into the water, they swam subjects for dissection. (says the graphic and truthful Californian) “as if At length he wearied of the unavailing pursuit, they had spent their lives in the sea."
wrote a line of explanation upon the gravel walk, The odd thing about it was the fact, that no fish and hung himself upon a tree of his garden. The ever heard of in nature, except this California fish, line he wrote might be written by many at dying; caught by a Mr. Jackson (a name for generals), ever it was, “I can not find it out!" produced young before, in any other way than by | But what is a man, hanging on a tree, stone dead, dropping spawn in the water.
to the thought that crowds on one as the tidings But, as we said, the story is setting the Paris come in from the banks of the Danube? They say naturalists agog; and Mr. Jackson may congratulate that poor Turgot, the party to the Soulé duel, is himself in having given currency to a triumphant still suffering excruciatingly, and that the surgeon hoax, or to a most discouraging discovery. For dispatched from Paris has not succeeded in exalready, in France and in Belgium, articles had been tracting the ball. But what is a solitary Turgot to signed for the formation of a great company to rear the thousands who will be howling soon with the fish, and stock preserves, by protecting vivifying strange pains of splintered bones, or lost limbs, or spawn; but if the fish are to change their tactics, the deep sword-cuts ? shares in the new corporation must fall. Ifthe stock How the sight of even what provident humanity had been offered at the New York “ board,” we is doing brings home to one the ills, more frightful should be compelled to regard the whole affair as a than pestilence, which one ambitious man is pourfabrication, and M. Agassiz himself as writing-in / ing out on Europe ! the interest of the “bears."
Look at these hospital wagons; how coolly the
paragraphist talks of them, as if no son or brother A NOTABLE death belongs to the French news, might be jolted in them over the bogs of Servia! since last we bethumbed the Paris files in the in- | These wagons are designed to carry the wounded terest of our readers. It is that of the strange old from the field of battle, and the sick and disabled man, the Abbé Lammenais. The record of it will upon the march, until they can be deposited in hoshave already fallen under the eye even of American pital. They are upon four wheels, arranged to turn readers. He was a strange French compound of in the shortest possible space, and are furnished saint and sinner; being full of humanity, and yet with springs of unusual length, strength, and elasignoring the laws upon which society rests; indulg. ticity. The bodies are divided into four horizontal ing in grand conceptions about faith and immortality, compartments, 64 feet long by 2 feet in breadth and and yet (as we ordinarily use language) thoroughly depth ; each compartment is fitted with a movable irreligious and infidel; he was intensely intellect. stretcher, carefully webbed and pillowed, on which ual, and yet, at times, in his long life, sensual--to the severely wounded will be raised from the field a crime.
of battle and placed, thus reclining in a compartThe mild and genial Sergeant Talsourd, too, whose ment for removal. The compartments are amply name, many years ago, gained an almost Greek lus- ventilated and protected by Venetian shutters from tre by the authorship of Ion, has fallen among the the sun and night air, and over all is a waterproof dead ones, from his bench in the Justice Court. The cover, supported on light hoops of wood. A door summer past he was traveling, with the rational joy. closes these compartments behind, which, as it is ousness of a healthful old man, among the watering. necessarily deep and large, can be converted into a places of Germany, attended by a pleasant-faced son, table whereon wounds may be conveniently dressed. And people who read books of worth, pointed him in front of one wagon body is a capacious locker out as the author of a glowing and severe English designed to carry water casks, surgical instruments, tragedy. In England, too, up to a very much later and drugs, and on it are seats capable of holding date, he seemed well; and only showed such token six men, whose wounds do not prevent them trav
eling in a sitting posture; these seats are provided over a victory in the Baltic, as we once shouted with guards to support the wounded if faint. over one of Aboukir ? And will news-reading
mothers name their new-born sons “Charley Nam A French provincial paper brings in the story of pier,” as the matrons of our frisk days called therr two young fellows of Bretagne, who, to escape the children “ Horatio" or “ Bronte ?" hazard of conscription and foreign service, married! But, like the whole world of news-writers now. latterly a couple of old girls, aged respectively sev-a-days, our pen runs insensibly to war; whereas enty-seven and eighty. The happy pairs are said our good readers will be looking here for a relief to to have made a bridal promenade to the neighbor- the paper-talk of battles. And they shall have it"; ing village, returning the same day to pass the hon- first, in a little resumé of a French stage-piece, eymoon in their native town!
which is just now attracting attention in the But all are not so fortunate (we do not speak of chief theatre of Paris, and which is the work of husbands, but of conscripts). Many a way-side Madame de Girardin, wife of the famous jourhome, in the far provinces of France, is this year nalist. feeling a blight which comes closer to the heart and No story at all belongs to it; but its interest dethe fears of the cottagers than the famine or a fever. pends wholly on its graceful language and render. The lot which governs French army enrollment takes ing of Gesling, and upon that nice psychologic no cognizance of only sons, or of dependent widow- | power so peculiar to the lady-writer. Its title may ed mothers; and the recruiting sergeants are not be rendered, “Joy is fearful." given to sentimental tendencies, or to any weak. The scene opens with a family in deep affliction; ness for distressed parents.
a son is supposed to have been lost at sea ; the Here and there some strong case, in which the mother is utterly subdued ; a sister, of natural liveagony is very bitter, makes itself heard as far as the liness, is clouded by grief; a young girl, the affiwilling ears of the tender-hearted Empress, and by anced of the drowned one, is endeavoring to recall, her voice the sorrow is turned into gladness. But by a drawing, some trace of the features of the lost these are exceptional; and the fumes of wine and lover. Even the old domestic of the family is unpipes, with a roistering Vive la France ! gives a manned by his kind-hearted sympathy, and the short-lived courage to many a parting whose whole scene is triste to the last degree. memory will bring up the first tears on days of The feeling of the reader (and, à fortiori, of the battle.
spectator, on the boards of the Theatre Français)
is painfully subdued to the mournful spirit of the Every body, long ago, will have read and di- piece. With French extravagance (and, we may gested the speeches in the British Parliament, in add, with French infidelity), the mother is buoyed connection with the Royal declaration of war; but up by no hope, either social or Christian; the young we want to put on the record of our Gossiping col-life of the daughter seems clouded by a grief as umns a fragment of the Earl of Derby's speech, dark as crime; the affianced girl is wilder, and less where he says, “No human being imagines that reasonable in her lament, than either parent or sis. this war can be brought to a close at the end of ter. A brother, who is more moderate in his ex. six months. No human being supposes that the pressions of sorrow, gives token (in true French call now made upon the Parliament (of a doubled spirit) of a wish to supply the place of the shipincome-tax) will be sufficient even for a tenth part wrecked one, in the affections of the affianced; but
the expenditure that will be incurred by the is repelled with scorn. country.”
Thus matters stand, when the old gray-haired And from the debate in the House of Commons, domestic (whose part is the best one of the play), let us drop on record also, this little whimsey from talking with himself, as he busies himself about the the observations of Mr. Bright : “Give us seven salon, indulges in the chimera that perhaps the boy years," says he, “ of this infatuated struggle, and is not lost; and he paints to himself how joyous a let America have the same period of peace, and thing it would be, if only the story of the shipwreck she would show us where the balance of power lay, were to prove untrue; and if it should appear and whether England would retain her vaunted that his young master were really safe; and if he supremacy of industry, and on the seas.”
were to come back again, in the old way, with Let the reader put these things in his pigeon. what a quiet pleasure he would shake him by the hole, and when a twelvemonth has gone by, we
hand! will call them to his mind again; and so measure No sooner said than done. The boy does apthe foresight of the statesmen of England.
pear! But so far from quiet, the old man trembles, There are those of us who remember, long ago, cries, and would have fallen to the floor but for the when England was at war; and when the slow. help of the lost one, who has come suddenly to lisc sailing ships, with weeks between their arrivals again. (as there are now only hours), brought the eagerly. When the old man recovers, the young sailor sought-for news of Wellesley's marches on the explains to him how a complication of strange rePeninsula, and of the swoop of Nelson's great fleet. verses have given rise to the story, and delayed his There are those who can recall (when school-jack- return. He inquires eagerly about the family; but ets were not yet cast off, nor the Columbian class the old man, now fairly himself again, and remembook abandoned) how caps were tossed high in the bering how joy had nearly been the death of him, air, and a boyish “hurra!" rung out, when news contrived a system of cautious maneuvres by which came that the Trafalgar fight was a glorious vic- the recovery of the lost son, and brother, and lover tory! We are curious to sce, and to compare, the shall be brought to the knowledge of the sorrowing war-tidings of our age with those which came over friends. when the wee days of tops and marbles made us The whole art and design of the piece lies in the joyful. There are other elements now blended in strange nicety with which Madame de Girardin has the great bulk of what makes our nationality; and painted the action of an unexpected joy upon the Celtic, and maybe Slavic blood, has crept into the varying temperaments, first of the simple old doveins of American school-boys: will they shout mestic, and then of the sister, the betrothed girl, and, lastly, the incredulous and broken-hearted | The Guardsman, like a sensible man, contrasted mother.
| favorably the new alliance with his dull service at The sister finds the old white-haired domestic, the doors of the Royal barracks; and in due time who had been so crest-fallen, chirruping and sing. I the parties were joined in marriage. ing at his work. Amazed at the change, she de- ! Nothing could be happier than their wedded lot mands indignantly an explanation, and guesses it for a six-month. After that time the health of the before it is complete. The brother has been cau- | bride failed: they journeyed to a milder region: tioned; and even when he overhears his sister's where, after a few months of lingering illness, the glad expressions of delight, of her desire to meet young wife died ; leaving to her husband the whole him again, he hesitates to approach. Even when he of her vast property. He, with rare disinterestedhas come from his hiding-place, and is fairly in her ness, at once alienated a large portion of it in favor view, he seems to dread some terrible explosion of of some charitable foundation in which his deceased feeling.
wife had, once upon a time, expressed deep con. But the girl, with a natural and healthful out-cern. burst of joy (which we are sure must “ bring down" Returning to England, to look after the accom. the house), says, “ Venez donc, je n'ai pas peur !” plishment of this scheme of benevolence, he chanced,
The communication of the joyful change is, how in the autumn of 18, to be present at the great ever, conveyed to the other parties with minute yacht race off Cowes, in which the America won and fearful caution. The reader, or spectator, is such glorious laurels. The winning yacht was un. kept in constant anxiety lest it may break too sud- derstood to be for sale ; the gentleman who serves denly ; scenes pass, all tending, by insensible gra- as the hero of this bit of story was desirous of redations, toward the denouement, which,with strange visiting again the scenes of his wife's illness and artistic skill, is put far away.
death. He loved the sea; he admired the staunch And when, finally, the whole truth is borne down little American vessel; and he bought the yacht. to the heart of the desolate mother, and the son him. Some months after, she lay moored in the Southself appears, and rushes forward, and is clasped in ampton waters, fully equipped for a trip to the Medher arms, and kissed over and over with frantic joy, iterranean. The owner was about setting sail, when the whole house (say the journals) is in uproar, he received special advices from London, desiring with clapping hands, and with the sobs of the his immediate presence. He hurried up to town, women.
and learned from his solicitor that his father had We have noted and sketched the piece to show died under distressing circumstances two nights on how frail and attenuated a thread is hung even before. The son and father had not met since the a successful drama, and how French histrionic art angry parting three years previous. The person will equip even the commonest emotions with anthrough whom the estrangement had arisen was interest that absorbs attention.
understood to be still an occupant of the paternal
mansion; and to be in virtual, and perhaps legal, AND now we add to this a little drama of our possession of the greater part of the estate. own, and with it we close our budget for the month. The son had no desire for greater wealth than he We say, a drama of our own, since it has never now possessed: and the circumstance only of some before, to our knowledge, been rendered in type ; mystery attaching to the death of his father, induced and yet its facts are all substantially true.
him to revisit his old home. He arrived before the A wealthy nobleman of England, who had an funeral ceremony: a sight of what remained of his only son, grown to manhood, was living, not five father, revealed, with fearful force, the reasons for years ago, upon a magnificent country estate, on the mysterious communications respecting his death. the borders of the manufacturing town of
The face was horribly disfigured, and the jaw and There was scandal attaching to the life of the skull shattered by a pistol-ball. It appeared that old man; and it was said that one, who was not the old gentleman, always proud of his fine person his wife, and who lived at his villa, exercised too and countenance (which the son had inherited in a great an influence over his actions, and prevented double degree), had been seized with the small-pox; full confidence between the father and the son. and, shocked and humiliated by the terrific change
However this may be, the son, who was possessed it had wrought in his features, he had, in a moment of most rare manly beauty, left his father's estate, of frenzy, put an end to his life. went up to London, and being utterly without re- Of the elegance which marked him as a descendsources, enlisted as a private in the Household ant of a long line of aristocratic fathers, nothing Guards of the Queen. His appearance and his ac. was visible now, in the narrow coffin, but the fair quirements (for he was possessed of a University and delicate hand. education) soon attracted attention. The matter. The son took the hand and kissed it; then hur. was talked of, even by those in high position about ried back to London, and thence to his yacht in the the Court; and soon the handsome young guards- bay of Southampton. In a week he was at sea. man became an object of general curiosity.
A fever overtook him; and soon the disease Among those who heard this mention of the dis- which he had gained from a touch of the father's carded son, was an amiable girl, the daughter and hand. The crew gave him such treatment as they heiress of a noble house. She was attracted by could; but the exposure, and the lack of medical his story; and the sight of his manly graces, not attention, gave to the disease strange forcc; and concealed even by the humble uniform he wore, when the vessel cast anchor before Gibraltar, not a made entire conquest of her affections. Under the vestige remained of the manly beauty which had circumstances, the initiative could come only from given a romance to his life. Was it “a visiting of the lady ; but interest was too strong for the inter- | the sins of the fathers upon the children ?” vention of any ordinary laws of etiquette or pro- At any rate, the old moral we may whip at the priety; and the young Guardsman was given to end is made fearfully true: That noble blood does understand that the heart of a high-born lady, whose not guard a man from suffering or shame; and that wealth was equal to her rank, was at his dis our mortal sorrows cut through the thickest shields posal.
Cor. “Was any attempt made to resuscitate
him ?" A S we write, it is May ; but when what we write! Wit. “Yes." A and select from our stores of "things new and Cor. “How ?" old" shall come before our readers, it will be the WIT. “We sarched his pockets !" "leafy month of June ;" June, the fairest of all the Cor. “I mean, did you try to bring him to ?" “ sister-seasons."
WIT. “ Yes-to the public-house." It is strange, but it is true, that the brightness, Cor. “I mean, to recover him ?" the joyousness, the very life of nature, to many a Wit. “ No; we weren't told to." one under whose eyes these words will fall, will | Cor. “ Did you ever suspect the deceased of prove any thing but joyous. What of the bereaved ? | mental alienation ?" -what of the suffering ?-what of the dead? By: W17. “ Yes, the whole village suspected him.” ron has well expressed, what thousands have felt, Cor. “Why ?" in his lines (as immortal as any thing that ever Wit. “'Cause he ailinated one of the Squire's came from his undying pen) upon the death in bat-pigs." tle, at the ensanguined field of Waterloo, of "the Cor. “You misunderstand me. I allude to young, the gallant Howard :"
WIT. “ Some think he was !" “ But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree, That living waved where thou didst cease to live,
Cor. “On what grounds ?” And saw around me the wide field revive
Wit. “I believe they belonged to Squire WaWith fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring
ters! Come forth, its work of gladness to contrive,
Cor. “P'shaw! I mean, was he mad ?" With all its reckless birds upon the wing,
Wit. “ Sartenly he were !" I turned from all she brought to those she could not COR. " What! devoid of reason ?" bring."
WIT. “ Oh, he had no reason to drown hisself, This is the perfection of pathos ; and how many as I knows of." a bereaved parent-how many, who only a short Cor. “ That will do, sir. (To the Jury): Genyear ago, saw around them father, mother, sister, tlemen, you have heard the evidence, and will conbrother, child-will call these lines to mind as | sider your verdict.” records of their own thoughts, when they remem- FOREMAN. “Your worship, we are all of one ber those who saw the last year's foliage in its ten-mind.” der green, and the expanding, perfect bud! Verily, Cor. “ Well, what is it?" * We all do fade as a leaf.”
Foreman. “We don't mind what; we're agreeSay not that these reflections are untimely ; that able to any thing your worship pleases." they are morbid-a “death's head at a wedding Cor. “No, gentlemen : I have no right to dicseast." There is many a sad heart, that the spells tate : you had better.consult together." of the spring-time can arouse no more :
FOREMAN. “We have, your worship, afore we “ As many a bosom knows and feels,
came, and we are all unanimous.” Left in the flower of life alone,
Cor. “ I am happy to hear it, gentlemen. (To the And many an epitaph reveals,
clerk): Mr. Clerk, take down the verdict. Now On the cold monumental stone."
FOREMAN. “Why then, your worship, it's 'Jus. The following picture of an intelligent Coroner's tifiable Suicide ;' but begs to recommend to mercy, Jury is copied from an English newspaper, pub- and hopes we shall be allowed our expenses !" lished twelve years ago :
Lest this scene should be thought to be exaggerCORONER. “Did you know the defunct ?" ated, the journalist affirms its truth to the letter, WITNESS. “Who's he?".
in every particular, Cor. “ Why, the dead man.” Wit. “ Yes."
The ensuing anecdote of Charles Lamb has Cor. “Intimately ?"
never appeared in any English sketches or aneoWir. “ Werry."
dotes of his life, but it is pronounced to be entirely Cor. “ How often have you been in company authentic : with him ?"
“At a dinner-table one evening, a sea-faring WIT. “Only once.”
guest was describing a terrific naval engagement, CoR. “ Do you call that intimately ?"
of which he was spectator, on board a British man. WIT. “Yes ; for he were drunk, and I were of-war. While I was watching the effects of the werry drunk, and that made us like two brothers.” galling fire upon the masts and rigging,' said he, Cor. “Who recognized the body?”
'there came a cannon ball, which took off both legs Wit. “ Jack Adams."
from a poor sailor who was in the shrouds. He Cor. “How did he recognize him ?”
fell toward the deck, but at that moment another Wit. “ By standing on his body, to let the water cannon ball whizzed over us, which, strange to say, run out!"
took off both his arms, which fell upon deck, while Cor. “I mean how did he know him ?"
the poor fellow's limbless trunk was carried overWIT. “By his plush jacket."
board.' Cor. “Any thing else ?"
“Heavens!' exclaimed Lamb; "didn't you save WIT. “No; his face was so swelled his mother him!' wouldn't ha' know'd him."
| "No,' replied the naval Munchausen; 'he Cor.“ Then how did you know him?"
couldn't swim, of course, and he sank before assistWIT. “'Cause I warn't his mother !” (Applause ance could be rendered him.' in the Court.)
" It was a sad, sad loss!' said Lamb, musinglys Cor. “What do you consider the cause of his if he could have been picked up, what an ornament death ?"
to society he might have become !"" WIT. “ Drownding, in course.”
“Never say dye !” would seem to be the maxim slides, preferring the banisters for a mode of con. of the fond wife who writes the ensuing lines. But, veyance, and disdaining danger and the stair ; down punning apart, there are touches of pathos in them which the Mother is fondly carried smiling in her which dispel the thought of humorous fancy : strong husband's arms, as he steps steadily step by
step, and followed by the monthly nurse, on the A WIFE'S PETITION
day when the medical man has pronounced that the TO HER HUSBAND NOT TO DYE HIS HAIR.
charming patient may go down stairs; up which On! touch not with cosmetic art
John lurks to bed, yawning, with a sputtering talOne of those silver hairs!
low candle, and to gather up before sunrise the Thy cherished image in my heart
boots which are awaiting him in the passages ; that No other plumage wears. Thy dark-gray locks are dear, my love,
stair, up or down which babies are carried, old As part of that sweet time,
people are helped, guests are marshaled to the ball, When my fingers fondly through them wove, the parson walks to the christening, the doctor to In my gay girlhood's prime.
the sick-room, and the undertaker's men to the They were not all of sable hue
upper floor; what a memento of Life, Death, and When, in that forest nook,
Vanity it is, that arch and stair, if you choose to You came a little maid to woo,
consider it, and sit on the landing, looking up and With honey'd word and look ;
down! The doctor will come up to us, too, for the And from amid her mountains blue
last time there, my friend in motley. The nurse Your silly wife you took,
will look in at the curtains, and you take no notice; And she, in fondest love for you, Her childhood's home forsook.
and then she will fling open the window for a little,
and let in the air. Your comedy and mine will They mind me of those by-gone days,
have been played then, and we shall be removed, When oft you “sought my bower," With noble, old poetic lays
O how far, from the trumpets, and the shouting, and To charm the evening hour;
the posture making!"...." However much you Or 'neath the full moon's sheeny rays,
may be mourned, your widow will like to have her Dropping their golden shower,
weeds neatly made, the cook will send or come up We trod the garden's fragrant maze,
to ask about dinner: the survivors will soon bear Scented by jasmine flowers !
to look at your picture over the mantle-piece, which I've seen my children's rosy hands
will presently be deposed from the place of honor, Play in their wavy mass,
to make way for the portrait of the son who reigns. While life's swift-rolling golden sands
“Which of the dead are most tenderly and pasBeneath our feet did pass.
sionately deplored? The death of a child occasions Ten thousand mem'ries to them cling
a passion of grief and frantic tears, such as your I would not change a hair!
end, brother reader, will never inspire. The death No locks, though black as raven's wing, Could I with them compare!
of an infant which scarce knew you, which a week's
absence from you would have caused to forget you, When DEATH shall take our souls, my love.
will strike you down more than the loss of your Where we must soon appear, Where kindred spirits blissful rove,
closest friend or your first-born son; a man grown Seeking Earth's lost and dear,
like yourself, with children of his own. We may I fear I should not know thee, love,
be harsh and stern with Judah and Simeon ; our If, in that radiant sphere,
love and pity gush out for Benjamin, the little one. Thy silver locks waved not above
And if you are old, as some reader of this may be, Thy spirit's brow as here!
or shall be-old and rich, or old and poor--you may Memphis, Tenn.
MARY. one day be thinking for yourself: "These people
are very good round about me; but they won't A WELL-KNOWN penurious character invited a grieve too much when I am gone. I am very rich, friend to dinner, and had provided only two small and they want my inheritance; or very poor, and mutton chops. Upon removing the cover, he said : they are tired of supporting me.'”....“Which, I
“My friend, we have a Lenten entertainment; wonder, brother reader, is the better lot, to die prosyou see your dinner before you !"
perous and famous, or poor and disappointed ? To Taking the two chops upon his own plate, his have, and to be forced to yield; or to sink out of faciend replied:
life, having played and lost the game? That must “Yes, I do—but where is your dinner?"
be a strange feeling, when a day of our life comes
and we say, “To-morrow, success or failure won't “When found, make a note of,” was the advice matter much: and the sun will rise, and all the of that “dear good man," Captain Cuttle. We myriads of mankind go to their work or their followed it instinctively, in depositing in our reser. I pleasure as usual, but I shall be out of the tur. voir the following thoughts, suggested by a second-moil.'” floor hall and stair-case of a London dwelling, where & coffin, containing the deceased occupant of the Some years ago the following conversation actu. house has been placed by the undertaker. If the ally took place between a lawyer and his client in scene should be remembered by the reader, he will a certain city of " Down-East :" not be the less gratified that it is again newly called LAWYER. “What's the name of the other party, to his recollection ; and it may induce some who sir ?" have not yet done so to peruse Thackeray's “Van-! Client. “Name ? let me see; I declare, it has ity Fair," from which it is taken:
escaped my mind." “That staircase, by which young master stealth-/ LAWYER. “ What does it sound like ?" ily ascends, having left his boots in the hall and let CLIENT. “It didn't seem to sound like any himself in after dawn from a jolly night at the club; thing. I had it at the tip of my tongue just now. down which Miss comes rustling in fresh ribbons It's something to take." and spreading muslins, brilliant and beautiful, and LAWYER. “Like something to take ? Liko what, pxepared for conquest and ball; or master Tommy then ?".