A feet-id blast. What boots it to complain?

Sen. Hard enough. We find it difficult to stick to the road when there are so many gardens of passion-flowers on every side. Let us finish up our travelling miseries after this one which belongs to the little selfishnesses we were speak- . ing of.

42. To have a lady, whose company you are in, complain to the shopowner of a clerk in a case where he is right and she is wrong.

Tes. A trying dilemma, certainly. Now for the omnibuses once more. They cannot be exhausted yet.

43. To take the seat by an end window, and be regaled with a fresh breeze, tinctured with the boots of a stable friend of the driver's, seated on the top with his feet hanging over.

44. After rushing forward, on account of the great haste you are in, past one stage to catch the one ahead of it, to see the last become first and the first last; the other omnibus passing you, while your rascally driver waits for a load, answering all your remonstrances with as many ruses, to make you think he is going on: pulling up suddenly, as if called by a passenger in the distance, and standing as long as he dares for fear of your finding out that his passenger is a myth—a creature of his imagination; then, just as you are going to get out, he swings open the door to let the myth get in. Nobody comes, and he slowly pulls the strap and goes on, to show you how exceedingly slow an omnibus horse can trot. Soon, however, you hear indications that he is going to pull up again.

Ned Tes. Which only bring new conviction to your ears that "Wo" is the lot of wayfarers in this world.

45. This time, however, you think you know a trick worth two of that, and begin a storm by telling him so, among other things; interrupted by the entrance of a real passenger, an elegant lady acquaintance, who must have heard the whole of your tirade.

46. Calling loudly, "Your stage is full, driver!" with a dignified look at the intruder, and then finding that there are but five on your side.

"Pleasure rowed a fairy-boat." What rode a ferry-boat?

47. For a stranger in the city: to get carefully into the right line of stages, and not find out that it is one going the wrong way, till on reaching Forty-second street he asks innocently, "Is this the South Ferry ?"

Sen. One more, and then " Omnibus finis venit.”*

48. A long ride on a hot day, when the only indication of a breeze is a little puff of dust in your face now and then.

Ned Tes. Perhaps there is no wind: but " de gust-ibus non est disputandum."

50. To be detained by the ferry-boat's running aground or getting into tribulation of some sort, within twenty feet of the dock, there to wait till the tide rises.

Ned Tes. Tied up in one sense, waiting for tide up in another.

51. While congratulating yourself on having caught the last boat going over, to fall asleep, and stay so till the boat has started to go back.

Ned Tes. Unlike Charon's ferry-boat, which never by any mistake brings you back, and to whom Styx in the mud can be no impediment.

Sen. That is a full-grown misery in itself; with the prospect before you of staying in the dark, dusty ferry-room all night, till the woman comes to clean it out in the morning; or, at best, of going to a miserable wharf-hotel for a lodging: and the retrospect of such ineffable stupidity as the cause of your dilemma. Now, suppose that the boat is unfortunately just at that distance as to leave you in doubt as to whether it was a space for jumping, but no doubt as to whether there was space for deliberation. You jump-IN, (water 31 de

* To all things comes an end.

Cattle damages. The joint-stock having to pay for the disjointed.

grees, as near as may be,) and are fished out, half insensible, with a ruined watch and suit of clothes, and without a hat, ruined or otherwise.

Tes. Well, I'm glad our business is only to give the pains of each description of travelling, and not to decide which may

claim the most.

Sen. I stick to the steamboat.

Tes. As for me, I would go in for the regular, unpunctual, hot, cold, dusty, rainy, unromantic, unsafe Rail Road.

Ned Tes. It's lucky the corporations can take a little railing without taking offence.

Sen. If they would take a fence and keep the cattle off the track, it would save the companies some money, and the public some lives, and would be no more than right besides, on the beasts' account. It is bad enough to take away their occupation, without subjecting them to the disagreeable surprise of finding themselves cut in two, before they begin to suspect that any thing is the matter.

Ned Tes. Out of one window of an express train, the head and forequarters of a cow may often be seen grazing; while, from the opposite one, is visible the tail brushing the flies off the odd half! However, we have always one motive for using the railway.

Tes. What is that, my son?

Ned Tes. A locomotive.

Tes. Pshaw! (To Sensitive.) This has been rather a long and laborious trial, albeit we take evidence only for one side. Sen. Yes, and we have not come near the end of our tether yet. Not one word have we said about passports, nor custom-houses, nor banks, money matters, &c.

Tes. Well, let us dismiss them all with one general groan for the whole tribe of officials, and let them continue to prac

Official appointments. Miserable sticks elevated to responsible posts.

tice their annoyances on other people, or, when all the world has become wise enough to stay at home, on each other, like vipers in a barrel, or the bores in Swedenborg's Retributory Paradise.

Sen. Most men, when they get "an appointment," seem to forget that they are hired to do the work in their office, and to imagine that they have hired the rest of the world to do what little there is requiring attention outside of it!

Tes. There they sit and mend their pens, and chat with their friends and each other, while their employer, the public, twirls its thumbs and repeats the multiplication table, to pass away the time outside!

Ned Tes. Where do those men expect to die when they go to? Their consciences will be oppressed with many

The trials of social men. So shall men always suffer.-A fair exhibition of the neat cattle of society. A hard row to hoe.-Divisions made by raillery. Schisms, not witticisms.-Music racks are well named: likewise, the strains of which they are the instruments.-Noisy pets, that might as well be trum-pets, or pet-ards, at once. It's sometimes pleasant to be found "not at home"-never, to be found out. The country tempts you away from home, and the contretemps that follow you. It is hard to have to bring your guests sick smiles.—The pains of politeness. The "mould of form" that gathers on social intercourse.-An unlucky speech that doesn't admit of a-mealy-oration afterwards.-Superlative flatterers, positive flats. Som-nolence vs. bene-volence.-A soar throat is just what a singer should have to reach the high notes with.-Building-sites and other exciting sights not heretofore cited. There's one pathy for all diseases, we all employ when we can get it. Sympathy.-A calf tied to a waggin' tongue, by a halt-er without a bitt of compunction. De vinculo matrimonii.—A father, tend-er to his offspring.

Tes. Robinson Crusoe, indeed! No, no-Timon or Diogenes, if you will-these are the recluses for me-the privilege of storming and railing is all I have purchased by making my bow in drawing-rooms, and I won't part with it for a trifle. Sen.

"The grief that does not speak,

Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break."

Tes. Come, then, "give sorrow words."

1. In attempting to take up the poker softly, (an invalid asleep in the room,) throwing it violently down, sociably accompanied by the tongs and shovel in its fall.

2. Briskly stooping to pick up a lady's fan at the same moment when two other gentlemen are doing the same, and so making a cannon with your head against both of theirs-and this without being the happy man,

after all.