up; to play Pope Joan with the curate; to read a novel to my aunt; or to be stuck down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase.

Sir P. I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, madam, these were the recreations I took you from; but now you must have your coach-vis-à-vis-and three powdered footmen before your chair; and, in the summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens. No recollection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double, behind the butler, on a docked coach-horse.

Lady T.

No I declare I never did that: I deny the butler and the coach-horse.

Sir P. This, madam, was your situation; and what have I done for you? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank; in short, I have made you my wife.

Lady T. Well, then,—and there is but one thing more you can make me to add to the obligation, and that is

Sir P. I thank you, madam-but don't flatter yourself; for though your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never break my heart, I promise you: however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint.

Lady T. Then why will you endeavor to make yourself so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense?

Sir P. 'Slife, madam, I say, had you any of these little elegant expenses when you married me?

Lady T. Lud, Sir Peter! would you have me be out of the fashion?

Sir P. The fashion, indeed! What had you to do with the fashion before you married me?

Lady T. For my part, I should think you would like to have your wife thought a woman of taste.

Sir P. Ay-there again-taste-Zounds! madam, you had no taste when you married me!

Lady T. That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter; and after

having married you I should never pretend to taste again, I allow. But now, Sir Peter, since we have finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's.

Sir P. Ay, there's another precious circumstanceing set of acquaintance you have made there.

-a charm

Lady T. Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation.

Sir P. Yes, egad, they are tenacious of reputation with a vengeance for they don't choose anybody should have a character but themselves!-Such a crew! Ah! many a wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief than these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scandal, and clippers of reputation.

Lady T. What! would you restrain the freedom of speech? Sir P. Ah! they have made you just as bad as any one of the society.

Lady T. Why, I believe I do bear a part with a tolerable. grace.

Sir P.

Grace, indeed!

Lady T. But I vow I bear no malice against the people I abuse. When I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure good humor; and I take it for granted, they deal exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir Peter, you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's, too.

Sir P.

character.

Well, well, I'll call in just to look after my own

Lady T. Then indeed you must make haste after me, or you'll be too late. So, good-bye to ye.

(Exit LADY TEAZLE.

Sir P. So I have gained much by my intended expostulation yet, with what a charming air she contradicts everything I say, and how pleasingly she shows her contempt for my authority! Well, though I can't make her love me, there is great satisfaction in quarrelling with her; and I think she never appears to such advantage, as when she is doing everything in her power to plague me.

BOB SAWYER'S PARTY.

Mr. BOB SAWYER; Mr. BEN ALLEN; Mrs. RADDLE; BETSEY.

Scene: BOB SAWYER'S Apartment.-Table with cards upon it. Tray filled with glasses of all sorts and sizes stands by the door.

Allen. Well, it is unlucky she should have taken it in her head to turn sour, just on this occasion. She might at least haye waited till to-morrow.

Sawyer. That's her malevolence-that's her malevolence. She

says that if I can afford to give a party, I ought to be able to afford to pay her confounded "little bill."

Al. How long has it been running?

Saw. Only a quarter, and a month or so.

Al. (Coughing.) It will be a deuced unpleasant thing if she takes it into her head to let out when those fellows are herewon't it?

Saw. Horrible, horrible. (Tap at the door.) Come in! Betsey. (Thrusting in her head.) Please, Mr. Sawyer, Missis Raddle wants to speak to you.

(Disappears. Another tap at the door.)

Saw. Come in!

Enter Mrs. RADDLE in a great rage.

Mrs. Raddle.

Now,

Mr. Sawyer, if you 'll have the kindness to settle that little bill of mine, I'll thank you; 'cause I've got my rent to pay this afternoon, and my landlord's a waitin' below,

now.

Saw. I am very sorry to put you to any inconvenience, Mrs. Raddle, but

Mrs. R. O, it isn't any inconvenience. I didn't want it partic'lar till to-day; leastways, as it has to go to my landlord directly it was as well for you to keep it as me. You promised me this afternoon, Mr. Sawyer, and every gentleman as has ever lived here, has kept his word, sir, as of course anybody as calls himself a gentleman, does.

Saw. I am very sorry, Mrs. Raddle, but the fact is, I have been disappointed in the city to-day.

Mrs. R. Well, Mr. Sawyer, and what's that to me, sir?

Saw. I-I have no doubt, Mrs. Raddle, that before the middle of next week, we shall be able to set ourselves quite square, and go on, on a better system afterwards.

Mrs. R. (Elevating her voice.) Do you suppose, Mr. Sawyer, do you suppose that I am going day after day to let a feller occupy my lodgings as never thinks of paying his rent, nor even the very money laid out for the fresh butter and lump-sugar that's bought for his breakfast, and the very milk that's took in, at the street door? Do you suppose a hard-working and industrious woman, as has lived in this street for twenty year (ten year over the way and nine year and three quarter in this very house), has nothing else to do but work herself to death, after a parcel of lazy, idle fellers that are always smoking, and drinking, and lounging, when they ought to be glad to turn their hands to anything that would help them to pay their bills? Do you

Al. My good soul

Mrs. R. Have the goodness to keep your observations to yourself, sir, I beg. I am not aweer, sir, that you have any right to address your conversation to me. I don't think I let these apartments to you, sir.

Al. No; you certainly did not.

Mrs. R. Very good, sir; then p'raps, sir, you'll confine yourself to breaking the arms and legs of the poor people in the hospitals, and keep yourself to yourself, sir, or there may be some persons here as will make you, sir.

Al. But you are such an unreasonable woman!

Mrs. R. I beg your parding, young man, but will you have the goodness just to call me that again, sir?

Al. I didn't make use of the word in any invidious sense, ma'am.

Mrs. R. I beg your parding, young man, but who do you call a woman? Did you make that remark to me, sir?

Al. Why, bless my heart!

Mrs. R. Did you apply that name to me, I ask of you, sır? (Throwing the door wide open.)

Al. Why, of course I did.

Mrs. R. (Backing gradually to the door, and raising her voice.) Yes, of course you did. Yes, of course you did, and everybody knows as they may safely insult me in my own 'ouse, while my husband sits sleeping down stairs, and taking no more notice than if I was a dog in the streets. He ought to be ashamed of himself (sobs) to allow his wife to be treated in this way, by a parcel of young cutters and carvers of live people's bodies, that disgraces the lodgings (sob), and leaving her exposed to all manner of abuse; a base, faint-hearted, timorous wretch, that's afraid to come up stairs and face the ruffi'nly creaturesthat's afraid-THAT'S AFRAID to come

(Bursts into a fit of weeping, and rushes off into another room, closing the door after her with a crash.)

MR. SQUEERS AT THE INN. --DICKENS.

Mr. SQUEERS seated at table with his breakfast before him. Opposite him, in a row, are several small Boys.

Enter WAITER with a large mug containing a very little milk.

Squeers. (Taking the mug and looking down into it.) This is two penn'orth o' milk-is it, waiter?

Waiter. That's two penn'orth, sir.

Sq. What a rare article milk is, to be sure, in London! Just fill that mug up with lukewarm water, William—will you? Wa. To the wery top, sir? Why, the milk will be drownded. Sq. Never you mind that. Serve it right for being so dear. You ordered that thick bread and butter for three-did you? Wa. Coming directly, sir.

Sq. You needn't hurry yourself, there's plenty of time. (Exit WAITER with mug.) Conquer your passions, boys, and don't be eager after vittles. (Goes on with his own breakfast. Enter WAITER with the mug.) O, that's the milk and water— is it, William? Very good; don't forget the bread and butter,