there would be to-morrow to be sure.-Let me see; [sits down] I have it-the meeting of our Elocution Class is near; and this will be an excellent opportunity for me to make preparations for my appearance on that occasion. I really begin to think that, with a little practice, I should make a capital public speaker-and I fancy I shall make a sensation at our Meeting. What shall I give ?-Tragedy 's my line-yes, Tragedy it must be,

"Plato, thou reasonest well."

But wouldn't a bit of Comedy suit better-Tragedy's rather heavy. If I could manage something original, that, after all, would be the thing to tell! Then it's so difficult to choose a subject! What would suit: "Ingratitude to Nelson," too serious-" Woman," rather too indefinite-" Beauty," worn out-"Love," too delicate-" To My Beloved," that'll do!—that'll do !-strike while the iron's hot; [writes] -I bow -I vow- -no change- -be found- -frail body- -the ground -dispute—a frown- -fate-knock him down. Well, come, I think that's a tolerable beginning. I must try if it recites as effectively as it appears on paper [rises] Hem, hem!

Fairest of Nature's works, to thee I bow,
And evermore will love thee, here I vow;

No change in me, dear girl, shall e'er be found,
While this frail body lives above the ground.

Who dare dispute thy beauty, e'en a frown

Shall seal his fate, [Enter SAMPSON] egad! I'll knock him down!
[raising his clenched fist, and staggering back on seeing SAMPSON.

Sampson. What does the fellow mean! Are you mad, sir?

Jacob. Mad, sir? [laughing]. No, sir; not exactly.

Sampson. You appear very much like it, sir.

Middleton's within?

May I ask if Mr.

Jacob. Why you certainly may ask if Mr. Middleton's within.—I believe I understood your question aright?

Sampson. Yes, sir [laughing]. Can I see him?

Jacob. No, he's without.

Sampson. Why couldn't you have said so at once, you booby!

Jacob. Booby, sir! booby is an insulting term which I cannot

brook![takes up the pen]-draw and defend yourself. Sampson. The fellow's mad-mad as a March hare.

Whatever do

you mean? [sternly] I came here on business, sir,-most particular business!

Jacob. Business, sir? I beg pardon-I really took you for a part of my original production, and never for a moment expected that a member of our Elocution Class would call here on business.

What! my

Sampson. A Member of our Elocution Class [staring]! friend [shaking hands] Mr. Jacob Brown!-I really didn't know you. The truth is I am so much occupied, that I find but few opportunities of attending the weekly meetings, and must offer that as an excuse, although a poor one, for not recognizing you; in addition to which you appeared rather excited. Whatever was you after when I interrupted you?

Jacob. I was reciting the first part-and, at present, the last (aside) -of a new original production of my own, composed expressly for the next meeting of our Class.

Sampson. Oh, indeed! but why not try your favourite burlesque ? I will join you ;—and, as you have sent business to the right-about, if you can do the Hamlet, I think I can manage Horatio. As there's nothing like the time present, suppose we have a rehearsal at once.

Jacob. Good; decidedly a good idea, friend Sampson. Let me seeit would read thus :

Hamlet
Horatio

A SCENE FROM HAMLET.

MR. JACOB BROWN.
MR. SAMPSON SMITH.

Now then, we're all right; here goes to make a beginning

Hamlet [rubbing his hands]. The wind is bleak-I'm getting rather cold. Horatio. Wilt have some ale-a drop of prime and old?

Hamlet. [whispers]. Chorus without. 'Tis missing, and we're done!

I'll be't myself [sings loudly] "Jolly Companions every one." Horatio. The king is kicking up a precious riot,

Hamlet.

I wonder why the deuce he can't keep quiet!

I hate the rows of those old ugly files!
Music should be tomcat-ic on the tiles.

Is this noise common-are they oft so breezy ?
O yes, the king calls that his free-and-easy.

It don't suit me; I cannot see the joke

Of sitting in a room one cloud of smoke;

It makes you cough, and wheeze, and feel uneasy-
There's nothing free in that, and nothing easy.

Horatio [quietly]. The ghost should now appear, but I've no doubt
As we've not got one, we can do without.

There, there's the ghost!

Hamlet. Aye! ho, where?

Angels and ministers of grace defend us !—

For if you don't, this horrid ghost will end us.—

If you are mortal, please to doff that steel,

And then I fancy I can make you feel.
Horatio, I'll call him!—Hamlet, Dane,
My Father, King, or any other name

You please what brings you here

To spoil us in the midst of our good cheer? [Enter MR. MID

DLETON, unperceived].

I'm sure good sir, we never troubled you;

What do you wish? what is it we should do?

MR. MIDDLETON coming forward [excitedly].

Explain to me, sir, for what earthly reason, my counting-house is made the arena for this extraordinary exhibition. I have been listening very patiently and calmly for the last few minutes, wondering who possibly could be inside talking so loudly and dramatically. Who are you, sir [to Sampson]; as for you, sir, I know you well enough already [to Jacob].

Sampson. I am a clerk in Messrs. Millington's house, and have brought you a letter from that firm; here it is, sir [giving letter].

Middleton [taking letter.] More bad news, I suppose; misfortunes never come singly! [opens letter, and reads in an under tone]—" My dear sir, We have the pleasure of informing you that the Arcadia has safely arrived at Liverpool, with a large consignment of gold on board from your agent in Mexico. We shall be happy to receive your commands respecting the same.-Yours, &c. WILLINGTON, BROTHERS."-Excellent! capital! Come here, sir, [to Sampson.] You have brought me such good news, that my anger has quite evaporated! But, remember, gentlemen-you, Mr. Brown, more especially-that a counting-house is a place quite unsuited for dramatic readings; and that employers may, by chance, as in my case, return home unexpectedly, and catch you in the fact. Jacob. We are very sorry, sir, [aside] at your return. But it was only an experiment.

Sampson. Nothing more, sir, I assure you.

Middleton. And an experiment which has decidedly failed.

Jacob. Nay, sir; let our friends answer that question. We have done you no material injury, and if we have amused our friends—although stopped at the very outset of our endeavours by your unfortunate arrivalI must say, for Sampson and myself, that our experiment has succeeded, and proved the truth of our favourite maxim, that practice-especially Private Practice-makes perfect.

THE BEADLE'S ANNUAL ADDRESS.

[FINDING, perhaps, that original composition was beyond his [the Beadle's] bounds, that Parnassus, in fact, was not in his Parish, he had contrived, by here and there interpolating a line or two of his own, to adapt the lays of our British Bards to his carol. For instance, Gray's celebrated "Elegy in a Country Churchyard" was thus made to do duty after this fashion.-Hood.]

Hood.

THE Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way—
And this is Christmas Eve, and here I be!

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
Save Queen Victoria, who the sceptre holds !

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain—
Save all the ministers that be in power,

Save all the Royal Sovereigns that reign!

Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys and destiny obscure;
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile,
The Parish Beadle calling at the door!

E

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life,

They kept the apple-women's stalls away!

Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still erected nigh;
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
He never lets the children play thereby !

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn,
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,

To meet the Reverend Vicar all in lawn!
One morn I miss'd him on the 'custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came, nor yet beside the rill,

Nor at the Magpie and the Stump was he !
The next with hat and staff, and new array,
Along all sorts of streets we saw him borne;
Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay
He always brings upon a Christmas morn!
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send;
He gave to misery (all he had) a tear,

And never failed on Sundays to attend!

No further seek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode; Where they alike in trembling hope repose,

John Bugsby, Number Thirteen, Tibbald's Road.

THE HORN OF EGREMONT CHAPEL.

Wordsworth.

ERE the Brothers through the gateway
Issued forth with old and young,

To the Horn Sir Eustace pointed
Which for ages there had hung.

Horn it was which none could sound,
No one upon living ground,

Save he who came as rightful heir
To Egremont's domains and castle fair.

Heirs from times of earliest record

Had the House of Lucie born,
Who of right had held the lordship
Claimed by proof upon the Horn:
Each at the appointed hour

Tried the Horn,-it owned his power;
He was acknowledged: and the blast,

Which good Sir Eustace sounded, was the last.

With his lance Sir Eustace pointed,

And to Hubert thus said he :-
"What I speak this Horn shall witness
For thy better memory.

Hear, then, and neglect me not!
At this time, and on this spot,

The words are uttered from my heart,
As my last earnest prayer ere we depart.

"On good service we are going

Life to risk by sea and land,

In which course, if Christ our Saviour
Do my sinful soul demand,

Hither come thou back straightway,
Hubert, if alive that day,

Return, and sound the Horn, that we
May have a living house still left in thee!"

"Fear not," quickly answered Hubert;
"As I am thy father's son,
What thou asketh, noble brother,

With God's favour shall be done."
So we were both right well content:
Forth they from the castle went,
And at the head of their array

To Palestine the brothers took their way.

Side by side they fought (the Lucies
Were a line for valour famed)

And where'er their strokes alighted,

There the Saracens were tamed. Whence, then, could it come-the thoughtBy what evil spirit brought?

Oh! can a brave man wish to take

His brother's life, for lands' and castle's sake?