"The children, too! Dear things! They'll be sopping wet for they shan't stop at home-they shan't lose their learning; it's all their father will leave 'em, I'm sure. But they shall go to school. Don't tell me I said they should'nt : you are so aggravating, Caudle; you'd spoil the temper of an angel. They shall go to school; mark that. And if they get their deaths of cold, it's not my fault—I didn't lend the umbrella." "At length," writes Caudle, "I fell asleep; and dreamt that the sky was turned into green calico, with whalebone ribs; that, in fact, the whole world turned round under a tremendous umbrella!" PATENT AND DOWLAS.-(Carey). Patent, the Lessee and Manager of a Theatre, is applied to by a country clown, Dowlas, for an engagement. Pat. Walk in, sir; your servant, sir, your servant—have you any particular business with me? Dow. Yes, sir, my friends have lately discovered that I have a genius for the stage. Pat. Oh, you would be a player, would you, sir -pray, sir, did you ever play? Dow. No, sir, but I flatter myself— Pat. I hope not, sir; flattering one's self is the very worst of hypocrisy. Dow. You'll excuse me, sir. Pat. Ay, sir, if you'll excuse me for not flattering you.— I always speak my mind. Dow. I daresay you will like my manner, sir. Pat, No manner of doubt, sir,-I daresay, I shall,-pray, sir, with which of the ladies are you in love? Dow. In love, sir!-ladies! [Looking round. Pat. Ay, sir, ladies - Miss Comedy or Dame Tragedy? Pat. Very well, sir; and where is your forte? Dow. Sir? Pat. I say, sir, what is your department? Dow. Department ?-Do you mean my lodgings, sir? Pat. Your lodgings, sir ?-no, not I; ha, ha, ha, I should be glad to know what department you would wish to possess in the tragic walk-the sighing lover, the furious heró, or the sly assassin. Dow. Sir, I would like to play King Richard the Third. Pat. An excellent character, indeed-a very good character; and I daresay you will play it vastly well, sir. Dow. I hope you'll have no reason to complain, sir. Pat. I hope not. Well, sir, have you got any favourite passage ready? Dow. I have it all by heart, sir. Pat. You have, sir, have you ?—I shall be glad to hear you. Dow. Hem-hem-hem [Clearing his throat. What! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground-I thought it would have mounted. Pat. Hold, sir, hold-in pity hold, za, za, za, sir—sir— why, sir, 'tis not like humanity. You won't find me so great a barbarian as Richard :-you said he had neither pity, love, nor fear,-now, sir, you will find that I am possessed of all these feelings for you at present,-I pity your conceit, I love to speak my mind; and—I fear you'll never make a player. Dow. Do you think so, sir? Pat. Do you think so, sir?—Yes, I know, so, sir !—now, sir, only look at yourself your two legs kissing as if they had fallen in love with one another; and your arms dingle dangle, like the fins of a dying turtle ! [mimics him] 'pon my word, sir, 'twill never do,-pray, sir, are you of any profession? Dow. Yes, sir, a linen-draper ! Pat. A linen-draper! an excellent business; a very good business, you'll get more by that than by playing,-you had better mind your thrums and your shop-and don't pester me any more with your Richard and your,—za, za, za, this is a genius !- plague upon such geniuses, say I. FROM "THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD".-(Goldsmith.) My wife and daughters, happening to return a visit at neighbour Flamborough's, found that family had lately got their pictures drawn by a limner, who travelled the country and took likenesses for fifteen shillings a head. As this family and ours had long a sort of rivalry in point of taste, our spirit took the alarm at this stolen march upon us, and, notwithstanding all I could say, and I said much, it was resolved that we should have our pictures done too. Having, therefore, engaged the limner (for what could I do?) our next deliberation was, to show the superiority of our taste in the attitudes. As for our neighbour's family, there were seven of them, and they were drawn with seven oranges-a thing quite out of taste, no variety in life, no composition in the world. We desired to have something in a brighter style, and, after many debates, at length came to an unanimous resolution of being drawn together, in one large historical family-piece. This would be cheaper, since one frame would serve for all, and it would be infinitely more genteel; for all families of any taste were now drawn in the same manner. As we did not immediately recollect an historical subject to hit us, we were contented each with being drawn as independent historical figures. My wife desired to be represented as Venus, and the painter was requested not to be too frugal of his diamonds in her stomacher and hair. Her two little ones were to be as Cupids by her side, while I, in my gown and bands, was to present her with my books on the Whistonian controversy. Olivia would be drawn as an Amazon, sitting upon a bank of flowers, dressed in a green joseph, richly laced with gold, and a whip in her hand. Sophia was to be a Shepherdess, with as many sheep as the painter could put in for nothing; and Moses was to be dressed out with a hat and white feather. Our taste so much pleased the squire, that he insisted on being put in as one of the family, in the character of Alexander the Great, at Olivia's feet. This was considered by us all as an indication of his desire to be introduced into the family, nor could we refuse his request. The painter was therefore set to work, and, as he wrought with assiduity and expedition, in less than four days the whole was completed. The piece was large, and it must be owned he did not spare his colours; for which my wife gave him great enconiums. We were all perfectly satisfied with his performance; but an unfortunate circumstance, which had not occurred till the picture was finished, now struck us with dismay. It was so very large, that we had no place in the house to fix it. How we all came to disregard so material a point is inconceivable; but certain it is, we had all been greatly remiss. This picture, therefore, instead of gratifying our vanity, as we hoped, leaned in a most mortifying manner against the kitchen wall, where the canvas was stretched and painted, much too large to be got through any of the doors, and the jest of all our neighbours. One compared it to Robinson Crusoe's long-boat, too large to be removed; another thought it more resembled a reel in a bottle; some wondered how it could be got out, but still more were amazed how it ever got in. THE BASHFUL MAN.-(Mackenzie.) I LABOUR under a species of distress, which, I fear will at length drive me utterly from this society, in which I am most ambitious to appear; but I shall give you a short sketch of my origin and present situation, by which you will be enabled to judge of my difficulties. You must know, I am of such extreme susceptibility of shame, that, on the slightest subject of confusion, my blood all rushes into my cheeks, and I appear a perfect full-blown rose. Sir Thomas. Friendly, who lives about three miles distant, is a baronet, with an estate of about two thousand pounds a-year, adjoining that which I purchased. He has two small sons and five tall daughters, all grown-up, and living at Friendly-hall, dependent on their father. Conscious of my unpolished gait, I have, for some time past, taken private lessons from a professor, who teaches "grown-up gentlemen to dance"; and although I at first found wondrous difficulty in the art he taught, yet my knowledge of the mathematics was of prodigious use, in teaching me the equilibrium of my body, and the due adjustment of the centre of gravity to the five positions. Having now acquired the art of walking without tottering, and learned to make a bow, I boldly ventured to accept the baronet's invitation to a family dinner; not doubting but my new acquirements would enable me to see the ladies with tolerable intrepidity; but alas! how vain are all the hopes of theory, when unsupported by habitual practice! As I approached the house, a dinner-bell alarmed my fears, lest I had spoiled the dinner by want of punctuality. Impressed with this idea, I blushed the deepest crimson as my name was repeatedly announced by the several livery servants, who ushered me into the library, hardly knowing whom or what I saw. At my first entrance, I summoned all my fortitude, and made my newly-acquired bow to Lady Friendly; but, unfortunately, bringing back my left foot into the third position, I trod upon the gouty toe of poor Sir Thomas, who had followed close at my heels to be the nomenclator of the family. The confusion this accident occasioned in me is hardly to be conceived, since none but bashful men can judge of my distress. The baronet's politeness by degrees dissipated my concern; and I was astonished to see how far goodbreeding could enable him to suppress his feelings, and to appear at perfect ease after so painful an accident. The cheerfulness of her ladyship, and the familiar chat of the young ladies, insensibly led me to throw off my reserve and sheepishness, till at length I ventured to join in the conversation, and even to start fresh subjects. The library being richly furnished with books in elegant bindings, I conceived Sir Thomas to be a man of literature; and ventured to give my opinion concerning the several editions of the Greek classics-in which the baronet's ideas exactly coincided with my own! To this subject I was led by observing an edition of Xenophon, in sixteen volumes; which (as I had never before heard of such a thing) greatly excited my curiosity, and I approached to examine what it could be. Sir Thomas saw what I was about, and (as I supposed) willing to save me trouble, rose to take down the book, |