[brings forward two parcels] What's this?-[reads] ForDang it, sir, I can't well make out the directions-you wrote in such a hurry.

Quot. No! mine's a good running hand.

Dick. Running! I think it be galloping, the letters seem to scamper away from one another so fast, there's no catching them. Quot. Let me see; that's for Squire Fudge-this for the attorney's clerk in the next street.

Dick. Squire Fudge! Oh, the old gentleman who lately married his smart young housekeeper. What be the articles, sir? Quot. Essence of hartshorn, a pair of spectacles, and a quire of large foolscap

Dick. For old Fudge?

Quot. And a quizzing-glass for the attorney's clerk.

Dick. I'll go with them directly, and when I come back take my lunch. Lord, sir, our beer do want drinking sadly, it be

getting sour.

Quot. Talking of what's sour, where's your mistress ?
Dick. Busy among her scholars in the house.

Quot. Right! let her stay there; she's in and I'm out, as Ovid says. Take my apron-I'm off. As to my wife

Dick. Hush! she'll hear you. and be angry.

Quot Nonsense! who rules? Am not I, (as Milton says) 'cock of the walk? Get you gone, and haste back, as I am going out soon-I've peeped into the school.

Dick. I'm afraid the boys will play the duce when they find you're from home; what am I to do?

Quot. Flog 'em all round.

Dick. I will sir; I've put a new rod in pickle on purpose.

Exit.

Quot. Now go I to make a bold push for a fresh customer, as Cowley says. Busy day! a wedding this morning-andtalking of wedding, puts me in mind of a christening! Festival, too, in the next parish! fine fun going on-bull-baiting, boxing, and backsword-jumping in sacks, grinning match, and donkey race! I promised to meet the change-ringers-hope I shall be in time just to take a touch at tripple-bobs, as the poet says. Q 5

Exit.

THE GRAVE STONES.

THE grass is green and the spring floweret blooms,
And the tree blossoms all as fresh and fair
As death had never visited the earth:
Yet every blade of grass, and every flower,
And every bud and blossom of the spring,
Is the memorial that nature rears

Over a kindred grave.-Ay, and the song
Of woodland wooer, or his nuptial lay,
As blithe as if the year no winter knew,
Is the lament of universal death.

The merry singer is the living link

Of many a thousand years of death gone by,
And many a thousand in futurity,-
The remnant of a moment, spared by him
But for another meal to gorge upon.

This globe is but our father's cemetery

The sun, and moon, and stars that shine on high,
The lamps that burn to light their sepulchre,
The bright escutcheons of their funeral vault.
Yet does man move as gaily as the barge,

Whose keel sings through the waters, and her sails
Kythe like the passing meteor of the deep;
Yet ere to-morrow shall those sunny waves,
That wanton round her, as they were in love,
Turn dark and fierce, and swell, and swallow her,
So is he girt by death on every side,

As heedless of it.Thus he perishes.
Such were my thoughts on a summer eve,

As forth I walked to quaff the cooling breeze.
The setting sun was curtaining the west
With purple and with gold, so fiercely bright,
That eye of mortal might not look on it-
Pavilion fitting for an angel's home,

The sun's last ray fell slanting on a thorn
With blossoms white, and there a blackbird sat
Bidding the sun adieu, in tones so sweet
As fancy might awake around his throne,
My heart was full, yet found no utterance,
Save in a half-breathed sigh and moistening tear.
I wandered on, scarce knowing where I went,
Till I was seated on an infant's grave.
Alas! I knew the little tenant well:
She was one of a lovely family,
That oft had clung around me like a wreath
Of forests, the fairest of the maiden spring-
It was a new-made grave, and the green sod

Lay loosely on it; yet affection there

Had reared the stone, her monument of fame,
I read the name-I love to hear her lisp-
'Twas not alone, but every name was there
That lately echoed through that happy dome.
I had been three weeks absent; in that time
The merciless destroyer was at work,

And spared not one of all the infant group.
The last of all I read the grandsire's name,
On whose white locks I oft had seen her cheek,
Like a bright sun-beam on a fleecy cloud,
Rekindling in his eye the fading lustre,
Breathing into his heart the glow of youth.
He died at eighty of a broken heart,
Bereft of all for whom he wished to live.

RECITATION FROM "THE RIVALS."

CHARACTERS-Sir Anthony Absolute, a passionate old man.
Captain Absolute, a Military Officer.
Fag, a Servant.

Fag. Sir, your father has just arrived.

Capt. My father! what brings him to Bath? I wish the gout had held him fast in Devonshire, with all my soul !

[Enter Sir Anthony.]

Sir, I am delighted to see you here; and looking so well! your sudden arrival at Bath made me apprehensive of your health.

Sir A. Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. What you are recruiting here, hey?

Capt. Yes, sir, I am on duty.

Sir A. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, though I did not expect it, for I was going to write to you on a little matter of business. I have been considering, Jack, that I grow old and infirm, and shall probably not trouble you long.

Capt. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look more strong and hearty; and I pray frequently that you may continue so.

Sir A. I hope your prayers may be heard with all my heart and soul. Well then, Jack, I have been considering that I am so strong aud hearty, I may continue to plague you a long time. Now, Jack, I am sensible that the income of your commission, and what I have hitherto allowed you, is but a small pittance for a lad of your spirit.

Capt. Sir, you are very good.

Sir A. And it is my wish, while I live, to have my boy make

some figure in the world. I have resolved, therefore, to fix you at once in a noble independence.

Capt. Sir, your kindness overpowers me-such generosity makes the gratitude of reason more lively than the sensations even of filial affection.

Sir A..I am glad you are so sensible of my attention, and you shall be master of a large estate in a few weeks.

Capt. Let my future life, sir, speak my gratitude; I cannot express the sense I have of your munificence.-Yet, sir, I presume you would not wish me to quit the army?

Sir A. O, that shall be as your wife chooses.

Capt. My wife, Sir !

Sir A. Aye, aye, settle that between you-settle that between you.

Capt. A wife, sir, did you say?

Sir A. Aye, a wife-didn't I mention her before?

Capt. Not a word, sir.

Sir A. O I musn't forget her though. Yes, Jack, the independence I was talking of is by marriage-the fortune is saddled with a wife-but I suppose that makes no difference.

Capt. Sir! sir!-you amaze me!

Sir A. Why, what the devil's the matter with the fool? Just now you were all gratitude and duty.

Capt. I was, sir; you talked to me of independence and a fortune, but not a word of a wife.

Sir A. Why, what difference does that make? Odds life, sir! if you have the estate, you must take it with the stock on it, as it stands.

Capt. If my happiness to decline the purchase. Pray, sir, who is the lady? Sir A. What's that to

is to be the price, I must beg leave

you, sir?-Come, give me your pro

mise to love, and to marry her directly.

Capt. Sure, sir, this is not very reasonable, to summon my affections for a lady I know nothing of.

Sir A. I am sure, sir, 'tis more unreasonable in you to object to a lady you know nothing of.

Capt. Then, sir, I must tell you plainly, that my inclinations are fixed on another. My heart is engaged to an angel.

Sir A. Then pray let it send an excuse. It is very sorry— but business prevents its waiting on her.

Capt. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you once for all, that in this point I cannot obey you.

Sir A. Now, d-n me! if ever I call you Jack again while I live!