Good evening, Marm, said Mr. Slick, how do you do, and how s Mr. Pugwash? He, said she, why he's been abed this hour, you don't expect to disturb him this time of night I hope. Oh no, said Mr. Slick, certainly not, and I am sorry to have disturbed you, but we got detained longer than we expected; I am sorry that So am I, said she, but if Mr. Pugwash will keep an Inn when he has no occasion to, his family can't expect no rest.

Here the Clockmaker, seeing the storm gathering, stooped down suddenly, and staring intently, held out his hand and exclaimed, Well if that aint a beautiful child—come here my little man, and shake hands along with me-well, I declare, if that are little feller aint the finest child I ever seed-what, not abed yet? ah you rogue, where did you get them are pretty rosy cheeks; stole them from mamma, eh? Well, I wish my old mother could see that child, it is such a treat

In our country, pale as chalk, or

said he, turning to me, the children are all as as yaller as an orange. Lor me, that are little feller would be show in our country-come to me, my man. Here the soft sawder' began to operate. Mrs. Pugwash said in a milder tone than we had yet heard, 'Go, my dear, to the gentlemango, dear.' Mr. Slick kissed him, asked him if he would go to the States along with him, told him all the little girls there would fall in love with him, for they didn't see such a beautiful face once in a month of Sundays. Black eyes—let me see—ah mamma's eyes too, and black hair also; as I am alive, why you are mamma's own boy, the very image of mamma. Do be seated, gentlemen, said Mrs. Pugwash-Sally, make a fire in the next room. She ought to be proud of you, he continued. Well, if I live to return here, I must paint your face, and have it put on my clocks, and our folks will buy the clocks for the sake of the face. Did you ever see, said he, again addressing me, such a likeness between one human and another, as between this beautiful little boy and his mother? I am sure you have had no supper, said Mrs. Pugwash to me; you must be hungry and weary, too—I will get you a cup of tea. I am sorry to give you so much trouble, said I.

Not the

least trouble in the world, she replied, on the contrary a pleasure.

We were then shown into the next room, where the fire was now blazing up, but Mr. Slick protested he could not proceed without the little boy, and lingered behind to ascertain his age, and concluded by asking the child if he had any aunts that looked like mamma.

As the door closed, Mr. Slick said, it's a pity she don't go well in gear. The difficulty with those critters is to git them to start, arter that there is no trouble with them if you don't check 'em too short. If you do they'll stop again, run back and kick like mad, and then Old Nick himself wouldn't start 'em. Pugwash, I guess, don't understand the nature of the critter; she 'll never go kind in harness for him. When I see a child, said the Clockmaker, I always feel safe with these women folk, for I have always found that the road to a woman's heart lies through her child.

CANUTE AND THE OCEAN.-WOLCOTT.

CANUTE was by his nobles taught, to fancy
That, by a kind of royal necromancy,

He had the pow'r, old Ocean to control;
Down rush'd the royal Dane upon the strand,
And issu'd, like a Solomon, command

Poor soul!

"Go back, ye waves, ye blust'ring rogues! (quoth he) Touch not your lord and master, Sea !—

For, by my pow'r almighty, if you do ;" Then staring vengeance,-out he held a stick, Vowing to drive old Ocean to old Nick,

Should he ev'n wet the latchet of his shoe.

The Sea retir'd: the monarch fierce rush'd on,
And look'd as if he'd drive him from the land;

But Sea, not caring to be put upon,

Made, for a moment, a bold stand;

Not only made a stand did Mr. Ocean,
But to his honest waves he made a motion,

And bid them give the king a hearty trimming;
The orders seem'd a deal the waves to tickle:
For soon they put his majesty in pickle;

And set his royalties, like geese, a swimming.

All hands aloft, with one tremendous roar;
Soon did they make him wish himself on shore;
His head and ears most handsomely they dous'd;
Just like a porpoise, with one gen'ral shout,
The waves so tumbled the poor king about;
No Indian diver e'er was half so sous'd.

At length to land he crawl'd a half-drown'd thing, Indeed more like a crab, than like a king;

And found his courtiers making rueful faces.
But what said Canute to the lords and gentry,
Who hail'd him from the water, on his entry,
All trembling for their lives or places?

"My lords, and gentlemen, by your advice,
I've had, with Mr. Sea, a pretty bustle;
My treatment from my foe not over-nice,
Just made a jest for every shrimp and muscle;
A pretty trick for one of my dominion!
My lords, I thank you for your great opinion.

You'll say, perhaps, I've lost one game,
And bid me try another-for the rubber-
Permit me to inform you all, with shame,
That you're a set of knaves, and I'm a lubber."
14*

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?

Bet. No.

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 worry him abroad?

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 robbing 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.