9. (Tom T.)

3. At cricket---after a long and hard service of watching out,---bowled out at the first ball.---Likewise, cricket on very sloppy ground, so that your hard ball presently becomes muddy, sappy, and rotten :---a jarring bat :---a right-hand bat for a lefthanded player:---a hat, vice stumps.

10. (Tom T.)

4. Winding up a top badly grooved, so that the string bunches down over the peg; and, on your attempt to peg it down into the ring,---" volat vi fervidus axis:"---i. e. it flies into the eye of a play

fellow.

11. (Tom T.)

5. Your hoop breaking, and then trundling lame, and perpetually tripping you up, as you boggle along with it;---the other boys, with good hoops, leaving you miles behind.

12. (Tom T.)

6. The stocking perpetually coming down as you run, and bagging below the shoe, so as to be trampled in the dirt, (all, by and bye, to be snugly buttoned to your flesh,) and throw you down:---no garters, except twine, which you are, at last, obliged to use, though it cuts to the bone,

13. (Tom T.)

7. Being obliged to take a severe licking from a boy twice as big, but not half so brave, as yourself; ---then, flogged for fighting, because you, at first, aimed one blow, which, however, did not reach the long-armed rascal.

14. (Tom T.)

8. At dinner---the joint lasting only as low down as the boy immediately above you :---you are too stout to eat bread, and so go starved, and brokenhearted, into school.

15. (Tom T.)

9. Fagging for a niggardly glutton, who does not leave you even the scraps of what you have stolen and dressed for him.

16. (Tom T.)

10. Staying in on a whole holiday, for another boy's fault, falsely charged upon yourself:---very fine day; and the distant noise of all the other boys at play continually in your ears, as you mope, alone, in the house :--

"Sternitur infelix alieno vulnere, coelumque Aspicit, et dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos." VIRG.

Sen. Well said, my noble boy!-we will

swear him, like another infant Hannibal, to eternal hatred against our enemies.-Mean time, having finished our survey of diversions abroad, let us walk in, if you please, and try whether the House has any thing better to shew than the fields.-The first article on my list is Dancing.

17. (S.)

Blundering in the figure all the way down a country-dance, with a charming partner, to whom you are a perfect stranger; and who, consequently, knows nothing of you but your awkwardness.

Tes. That offence may be forgiven, however;—not so the following:

18. (T.)

Entering into the figure of a country-dance with so much spirit, as to force your leg and foot through the muslin drapery of your fair partner.

Sen. There I feel for you indeed!

Mrs T. (who during this, and a few of the other dialogues, is sitting at work in another part of the room.) " Your feelings," Mr Sensitive!-Deuce take it!" my feelings," if you please; -you seem to leave the poor

E

lady, and her ruined petticoat, quite out of the account !

Tes. Pho, pho! Mrs T.-the petticoat may be mended again, and there would be an end of that;—but nothing short of amputation would satisfy the Lady's vengeance against the leg.However, Madam, I have another dancing distress, in which, I am certain, you will join in your heart, whether you choose to confess it or not:

19. (T.)

The plagues of that complicated evolution called right hand and left."

Ned Tes.

"Palantes error certo de tramite pellit; Ille sinistrorsum, hic dextrorsum abit."

HOR.

Being compelled to shift your steps, at every instant, from jig to minuet, and from minuet to jigtime, by the sleepy, drunken, or ignorant blunders musicians.

of your

Ned Tes.

“Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis."

2

Sen. I will now give you a ball-room "Groan," with which nothing in Holbein's "Dance of Death” can stand a moment's comparison:

21. (S.)

When you have imprudently cooled yourself with a glass of ice, after dancing very violently, being immediately told by a medical friend, that you have no chance for your life but by continuing the exercise with all your might;-then, the state of horror in which you suddenly cry out for " Go to the Devil and shake yourself," or any other such frolicksome tune, and the heart-sinking apprehensions under which you instantly tear down the dance, and keep rousing all the rest of the couples, (who, having taken no ice, can afford to move with less spirit)-incessantly vociferating, as you ramp and gallop along," Hands across, Sir, for Heaven's sake!"-" Set corners, Ladies, if you have Right and left-or I'm a dead

any bowels!". man!"-&c. &c.

Tes. Why, to you, Sensitive, such a violent remedy must have been almost as bad as the disease; though, to be sure, as your friend the Doctor had described your case as so