mene emesis Mee

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“This is true L

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light. I was coming up to- ’ Blackheath, and in the crowded vehicle ' had chanced to encounter my compatriot - B ,(call it Brown,) who had been lionizing the Thames Tunnel. In the course of conversation it came out that | S we were both on the town for our din- ut ner, and as we were both guests at the 8 Traveller's Club, we had pulled the omni- 8 bus string at the nearest point, and, after | ry the brief dialogue recorded above, stroll- | to ed together down Pall Mall. all As we sat waiting for our fish, one of he 1g made a remark as to the difference of in- feel betweon gold and copper coin, and Brown, fishing in his pocket for money to try the experiment, discovered that 185 doubt of the cad was well founded, tor he at ife. a sovereign. ty, “People are very apt to take your coin der at your own valuation!” said Brown, with )ous! a smile of some meaning, “and when ; the they are in the dark as to your original coinage, {as the English are with regard | sons to Americans abroad) it is easy to pass for *Ur0- gold as for copper. Indeed yeu may pass The for both in a day, as I have lately bad ex- 0,000 perience. Remind me presently to tell lerks, you how. Here comes the fried sole, and ters, it’s troublesome talking when there are bones to fight shy of—the ‘flow of sele’ to the contrary notwithstanding.” —- I will take advantage of the hialus to give the reader a slight idea of my friend, as a preparation for his story. Brown was the “ mirror of courtesy.” — Bt He was also a mirror of vulgarity. And he was the mirror of every thing else.— , : He had that facility of adaptation to the oR, society he was in, which made him seem ‘ born for that society and that only, and, opposite” without calculation or fore thought—by an %. : unconscious instinct, mdeed—ke clever- | ar, if paid ly reflected the man and manners before ans him. ‘The result was a popularity of a aaa be most varied quality. Brown was a man | er for dis- of moderate fortune and no profession.— vss at the 86 He had travelled for some years on the continent, and had encountered all class- in “The es of Englishmen, from peers to green- red in the grocers, and as he had a visit to England in prospect, he seldom parted from the mn are re- most chance acquaintance without & vo- espondents lunteer of letters of introduction, ex- ¢ and fore change of addresses, and similar tokens eae of having “picked through the castle wall.’ When he did arrive in London, | at last, it was with a budget itke the rel} and St postman's on Valentine’s day, and he had _Newfrags only to deliver one letter in a score to be put on velvet in any street or square st Point. within the bills of mortality. Sagacious | ur. enough to know that the gradations of jortane, ; English society have the facility ofa cat's

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Brown’s Day with the |

son’s.

BY N. P. WILLIS. « Our virtues Lie in the interpretation ofthe time.

We got down from an omnibus in Charing Cross.

“Sovereign or ead, rubbing the coin and finger.

“ Sovereign, confidently, pocketing the chan the man had ready for the emergence a bit of brown paper.

It was a muggy, misty, London twi- town frem

inip-

ha’penny?” said the

between bis thram

of course !” said B---—— ge which

y in

had unconsciously passed a half penny for | g Jarge room, with twenty or thirty clerks

back, (smooth enough from the head

downwards) he began with a most noble

duke, and at the date of his introduction | Rose Lodge, “Mrs. Mimpson expects to the reader, was on the dinner-list of | some friends to-morrow—indeed some of

most of the patricians of May Fair.

Presaming that you see your man, dear reader, let us come at once to the remo- val of the cloth.

“As 1 was calling myself to account the other day, over my breakfast,” said Brown, filling his glass and pushing the bottle, “it occurred to me that my round of engagements required some little varia- tion. There’sa “toujours perdrix, even wnong lords and ladies, particularly When yon belong as much to their sphere, and are as likely to become a part of it, asthe fly revolving in aristocratic dust on the wheel of my lord’s carriage.

; x mee ple. o d, under @ presse pep tab] t a hundre

—

nought, perhaps had better see some

ier on the d letters of introduc-

AND GENERAL INTELLIGENCER.

ans cela AL Oe

CHARLOTT

iberty, when free-born me

ETOWN

n, having to

}

tion—the condemned remainder, selection, by advice, of four or five only.

I determined to cut this heap like a | Rose Lodge.

pack of carde, and follow up the trump.

“John Mimpson, Esquire. House of | Mimpson & Phipps, Mark’s Lane, Lon- | don.

“The gods had devoted me to the ac- quaintance of Mr. (and probably Mrs.) John Mimpson. After turning over a _ deal of rubbish in my mind, | remember- ed that the letter had been given me five years before by an American merchant-- probably the correspondent of the firm in Mark’s Lane. It was a sealed Jetter, and | said im brackets on the back, ‘ Introduc- ing Mr. Brown.’ ‘had a mind to give it up and cut again, for {could not guess on what footing I was introduced, nor did I know what kad become of the writer, —nor had La very clear idea how long a letter of recommendation will hold its ‘virtue. It struck me again that these | difficulties rather gave ita zest, and I would abide by the oracle. I dressed, and as the day was fine, started to stroll leisurely through the Strand and Fleet Street and look into the shop windows on my way—assuring myself at least, thus much of diversion in my adventure. “Somewhere about two o’clock, I left daylight behind, and plunged into Mark’s |Lane. Up one side and down the other

—*Mimpson & Co.’ at last, on a small brass plate, setin a green baise door.— | With my unbottoned coat nearly wiped off my shoulder by the strength of the _ pulley, I shoved through, and emerged in

}

perched on high stools, like monkeys in a menagerie.

‘ ¢ Pisat door, right! said the nearest man, without raising his eyes from his desk, in reply to my inquiry for Mr. Mimpson.

“| eptered a closet, lighted by a slant- ing sky-light in which sat my man.

“¢Mr. John Mimpson ?

«Mr. John Mimpson ?’

“ After this brief dialogue of accost I produced my letter, and had a second’s leisure to examine my new friend while he ran his eye over the contents. He was a rosy, well-conditioned, tight-skinn- ed little man, with black hair and looked ‘like a peer on acchair. (Hang the bothering rhymes!)—His legs were com- pletely hid under the desk, so that the as- cending eye began with his equatory line, and whether he had no shoulders or no neck, ] could not well decide—but it was a tolerably smooth plane from his seat to | the topmost curl of his sinciput. He was | scrupulously well dressed, and had that | highly washed look which marked the city man in London—bent on not betray- | ing his ‘ diggins’ by his complexion,

“[ answered Mr. Mimpson’s enquiries about our mutual friend with rather a hazardous particularity, and assured him | he was quite well, (I have since discover- ed that he has been dead three years) and | conversation warmed between us for ten | minutes, till we were ready to part sworn | friends. Irose to go, andthe merchant seemed very much perplexed.

“+To-morrow, said he rubbing the two great business bumps over his eye- brows,—*no—yes—that is to say Mrs. Mimpson—well, it shall be to-morrow! Can you come out to Rose Lodge, and spend the day to-morrow ?”

‘“* With great pleasure,’ said I, for I | was determined to follow my trump let-_ ter to extremities.

““* Mrs. Mimpson,’ he next went on to say, as he wrote down the geography of

thlceasppipeencarienesmesaeniiatinen

j | }

t

her very choice friends—if you come | early, you will see more of her than if you just save your dinner. Bring your

carpet bag, of course, and stay over night. ' Lunch at two--dime at seven. If can’t be there to receive you myself, but I will prepare Mrs. Mimpson to save you all trouble of introduction. Hampstead road. Good morning, my dear sir.’

‘So, am in for a suburban bucolic, thought I, as l regained daylight in the neighbourhood of the Mansion House.

‘It turned? out a beautiful day, sunny and warm, and had I been sure of my navigation, and sure of my disposition to stay all night, I should have gone out by the Hampstead coach and made the best of my way, carpet bag in hand. I went

into Newman's for a post-chaise, however,

ee

beak tn

was agreeably sur His boys had

there.

advise the Public, may

after the | and on showing him the written address, prised to find he knew

all been

“ Away I went through the Regent’s Park, behind the blood pasters, blue jacket

o'clock we mounted Hampstead

| and white hat, and somewhere about one

Hill, and

in ten minutes thence was at my destina- tion. The post boy was about driving in at the open gate, but I dismounted, and sent him back to the Inn to leave his horses, and then depositing my bag at the

porte It was a much finer place

_Ihad expected to see.

r’s lodge, walked up the avenue. altogether than

“ Mrs, Mimpson was in the garden.— The dashing footman gave me the infor-

mation, led me through a superb

drawing

room, and out of a glass door open the

lawn, and left me to make my own way |

to the lady’s presence.

“Jt was a delicious spot, and

have been very glad to ramble myself till dinner, but, ata turn on the

grand walk, 1 came suddenly u ladies.

“] made my bow and begged introduce myself as ‘ Mr. Brown.

“ With a very slig head and no smile whatever, on town, and begged her co out introducing me to her) lunch. The spokester was @ S tall woman, who had rather

toeratic nose, and was not handsome, but, to give her her due, she had made a very narrow escape of it. She was dress- ed very showily, and evidentiy had great but that she was not at all |

pretensions, glad to see Mr. Brown, was'as. as was atall necessary. As tl

and younger lady who was to accompany me, however, was very pretty, though

dressed very plainly, and had, Jook in her eye, which assured

was amused with my unwelcome appar-- tion, | determined, as I should not other- wise have done, to stay it out, and accept-

ht inclination of the

I should about by

pon two

leave t

>

e of the

an aris-

apparent 1e other,

withal, a me she

ed her convoy with submissive civility—

very much inclined however to be impu-

dent to somebody, somehow.

“The lunch was ona tray ina side

room, and I rang the bell and o

bottle of champagne. The servant looked surprised, but brought it, and mean time I was getting through the weather and the other common-places, and the lady, | saying little, was watching me very calm-

ly I liked her looks, however, sure she was not a Mimpson.

“ ¢Hand this to Miss Armstrong ! said Itothe footman, pouring out a glass of

champagne. “ ¢ Miss Bellamy, you mean, s “T rose and bowed, and, with

a courtesy as I could command, expressed my pleasure at my first introduction to

Miss Bellamy—through Thomas, man! Miss Bellamy burst into

and was pleased to compliment my Awe- ‘rican manners, and inten minutes we

were a very merry pair of frie she accepted my arm for a stroll

the grounds, carefully avoiding the frigid neighbourhood of Mrs. Mimpson.

“OF course IT set about picking Miss Bellamy’s brains for what information I

wanted. She turned out quite t creature Lhad seen in Englan

joyous, natural and clever, and as [ was delivered over to her bodily, by her keep- er and feeder, she made no scruple of promenading me through the grounds till the dressing bell-—four of the most agree-

able hours | have to record in m

(To be concluded in our next.)

rdered a

and was

ir!’

as grave

the foot- a laugh,

nds, and through

he nicest d—fresh,

y travels.

_

y

Magazine:

man—sent her majesty Queen a prime cheese.

eighteen penny a letter, purporting to be majesty, appointin

exalted into a corporate town, b

ARUWTLBS,

A Practica Joxe.—We find the fol- lowing in a late number of Black wood’s

‘Not long since, a smal] farmer in a jittle village in Somersetshire, who prided himself on his cheese, in a fit of unwont- ed generosity—for he was a penurious

A person given to practical jokes, knowing this, bought an gilt chain, and sent it in from her

— her * well belov mayor of the village, in the document

Victoria

ed’

}

‘to celebrate the 3

3 _-

speak free

Mrivron’s Evuriprmes.

e

—— em

, P, E. Isuanp, January 19, 1850,

of he, the said mayor, formed the sole body and whole authority. The poor ignorant man swallowed the bait, and called the village together, gave an ox to

of the invited procession, wearing his chain of office: and for several weeks

Muration.—On the 18th of June 1820 was won the victory of Waterloo. On the 28th of June 1849 the Duke of Well- ington and his companions in arms met 34th anniversary of his 1000 of the nobility left cards ion at Apsley House. ted a stranger | t look |

victory. | of congratulat Never has history presen spectacle—these old victors canno any where on the Continent and point to a single throne and say “we set it up.” They have outlived everything they | fought for. The life of a man is likened |

} i

f

| Spain they | Bonaparte, and the heir of tl 0 | is a hope

bon, | with a pale and a red_repulic.

ladies asked me if had walked from | Germany they enabled the princes to

mpanion (with- to show me to tout and

| refuse parliaments

/on conviction befere two magistrates. |

| — Coventry Paper.

to the existence of a vapour, yet his Ife | outlasts the trophies of his sword. In_ substituted a Bourbon for a xe Bourbon less pretender.—In France they dethroned Bonaparte, and set up a Bour- and the Bonaparte is again in Paris,

In

}

narnia

for a time, only to concede them in troublesome days. De- feated victors | conquered conquerers ! of Vaterloo !—.Vorth British Mail.

Docrrrry Law.—A culprit having been convicted of a misdemeanor before a Warwickshire magistrate, the latter thus addressed him:—“ By the Act of Parliament I see that the offence is punished with six months imprisonment,

|

Now, you may think yourself a nation | lucky fellow, for if my brother magistrate | had been here, you should have had the | whole six months, but as Iam alone, 1} can of course only send you to gaol for | three vionths ! and before you go, let me | give you a word of advice—take care of | your conduct in future, and avoid bad company, which has brought you to this situation, for if you hadn’t done that there, you wouldn't have come to this here !”

} | | }

OccurRENCE IN ONE OF OUR Scuooits.— The teacher, 4 | young Lady, put the question to her scholars. one morning. “ Who made you ?” The oldest boy in the school could not tell, neither could any of the scholars, till she questioned the smallest and youngest urchin in the school. He answered promptly, that God made him. The teacher, turning to the largest boy said, “are you not ashamed not to know what this little fellow knows ?”

“ He,” replied the “ big un,” “Thunder ! I should think he might know; “taint a | fortnight since he was made.”

A Santrorny Movement.—Lady— ‘Dear me, Count, you don’t look well to- day. —Count—‘ Oh! I have done vare foolish ting—vare foolish ting—I have | wash my necs

There is nothing more annoying in places of business oF public reading- rooms, than.twopersons continually con- versing inan under-tone. Ifthe example were generally followed, a perfect Babel would be the result; and those parties practising such troublesome improprieties inevitably become unpopular.

Two old gentlemen of our acqaint- ance were complimenting each other on their habits of temperance.

‘Did you ever, neighbour,’ said one, ‘see me with more than I could carry ?

‘No indeed,’ was the reply, ‘not I. But | I have seen you when I thought you had better gone twice after it.’

AN Common

Hymenran Anecpotr.—Some time since, in the Highlands of Scotland, an affectionate lover conducted his intended bride to the alter, to secure her for life.

| parties, could induce her to alter her

|

be roasted whole, and walked at the head ls in : and ' tion soon brought affairs to a c exhibited the insignia and royal auto- |

‘ graph, at church and at markets.’ _as an immediate dissolution of

t ; ;

| intimated that as the supper was prepared,

| them: for by this time a numbe

| deacon, making an official visit toa ¢y-

The ceremony began, and with its accustomed regularity, until the fair one was asked this important question— « Wilt thou have this man for thy wedded husband 2”. To which, with much appa- rent sincerity, she replied, “ No.” The poor bridegroom was half petrified, and gazed upon her with astonishment ; but no expostulation, either from himself, from

ut where-

the minister, or from the friends of both

ge

At

Pats +

0. 2

a

—=a

(Von. L-—-No. 9,

Ont ton

* od

solution. On being asked to explain th 2 occasion of such unexpected conduct, she frankly replied that she had seen & man whonr she liked better than the persca | he was about to marry, This declara- © risis. The marriage ceremony was suspended ; and % partnership — took place, the minister conducted the — parties to distant doors, The half bride. groom, rather disgusted with her conduct — than mortified at his disappointment, declared that bis affections were alienat- ed from her, and that nothing should in- duce him to take her for his wife, even if her resolution was to alter, One of her friends finding him in such good spirits, the priest still at hand, and many of the guests were in waiting, much time and expence might be spared, if he would re- turn to the church and conclude the ceremony with one of the bridesmaids. The hint was instantly taken, and the proposal made; and a3 the fair one hed no objection, they immediately returned, got married, repaired to the house, and

led themselves with the supper

and rega é which had been provided for the other, of her friends.

and partly at the expence A few weeks afterwards the deserter was

married to the man whom she liked better, and both husbands, meeting shortly after these events, shook hands, and they have continued to live in friendship ever since.

Fprrome or War.—The history of every war is like a scene I once saw in Nithsdale. Two boys from different echools met one fine day upon the ice. They eyed each other aw hile in silence, with rather zealous and indignant Jooke, and with defiance on each brow. “ What are you glowrin at, Billy?” “ What's that to you, Donald ? Fl look whar I’ve a mind, an’ hinder me if you daur.” To this a hearty biow was returned, and they began such a battle! It being Saturday, all the boys of both schools were on the ice, and the fight instantly became gene- ral. At first they fought at a distance with missile weapons, such as stones and snow-balls; but, at length, coming hand to hand, they coped in a rage, and many bloody raps were liberally given and re- ceived. I wentup to try eF could pacify r of little girls had joined the affray,and I was afraid they would be killed. So, address- ing one party, I asked. “ What are you fichting those boys for? What have they done to you?” “O, naething at a’ maun; we just want to gie them a guid thrasin’, that’s a.” My remonstrance was vain; at it they went afresh; and after fighting till they were quite exhaust- ed, one of the principal heroes stepped forth between the combatants, himself covered with blood and bis clotheg all torn to tatters, and addressed the oppos- ing party thus: “Tiltellyou what we'll do wi’ ye. if yell let us alane we'll let you alane” There was no more of it; the war was at an end, and the boys. scamper- ed away to their play. That scene was as a lesson of wisdom to me. I thought at the time, and have often thought since that this trivial affray was the best epi- tome of war in general that I have ever seen. Kings and ministers of state are just a set of grown up children, exactly like the children I speak of, with only this material difference, that instead of fighting out for themselves the needless _ quarrels they have raised, they sit in safe- ty and look on, hound out their innocent but servile subjects to battle, and then, after an immense waste of blood and treasure, are glad to make the boys’ con- dition, if yell let us alane we'll let you alane.”—James Hogg.

A Frarrerinc Fanewrit.—A good

who was a churlish and universally unpopular man, put the ques- tion‘ Are you Willing to go, my friend ? ‘ es, said thesick man, ‘I am.’— ‘Well,’ said the simple-minded deacon, ‘Tam glad you are, for all the neighbours are willing. Ply Tom Dibdin, the author and celebrat- ed punster, had a horse which he called ‘Graphy,’ and gave his reason for christ- ening him, as follows: ‘When I made up ' to buy a horse, [ said I'll buy o

ing neighbour,

er ee

; when, f mounted him, I was topo

|