being the value of the Parliamentary Debates with which he has been pleased to trouble me for some time past-deducting the carriage thereof, which he always forgot to pay-the sum of £14, 28. 4d. Stout. Eh, what?-£14? Oh, hang the old miser! Sir John. Decency-decency! Proceed, sir! Sharp. "Item.—To Sir Frederick Blount, Baronet, my nearest male relative-" Blount. Poor old boy! Sharp. "Being, as I am informed, the best-dressed young gentleman in London, and in testimony to the only merit I ever heard he possessed, the sum of £500 to buy a dressing case. Blount. Ha! ha! ha! Vewy poor wit-low!-vewy-vewylow! Sir John. Silence, now, will you? Sharp. "Item.-To Charles Lord Glossmore-who asserts that he is my relation-my collection of dried butterflies, and the pedigree of the Mordaunts from the reign of King John." Gloss. Butterflies!-Pedigree!-I disown the plebeian! Sir John. Upon my word, this is too revolting! Decency! Go on. Sharp. "Item.-To Sir John Vessey, Baronet, Knight of the Guelph, F.R.S., F.S.A., &c." Sir John. Hush! Now it is really interesting! Sharp. "Who married my sister, and who sends me every year the Cheltenham waters, which nearly gave me my death, I bequeath-the empty bottles." Sir John. Why, the ungrateful, rascally, old Chorus. Decency, Sir John-decency. Sharp. "Item.-To Henry Graves, Esq., of the Albany-" Graves. Pooh! gentlemen-my usual luck—not even a ring, I dare swear! Sharp. "The sum of £5,000 in the Three per Cents." Graves.. Joy-pooh! Three per Cents. !-Funds sure to go! Had it been land, now-though only an acre!-just like my luck. Sharp. "Item. To my niece Georgina Vessey-" Sir John. Ah, now it comes! Sharp. "The sum of £10,000 India Stock, being, with her father's reputed savings, as much as a single woman ought to possess." Sir John. And what on earth, then, does the old fool do with all his money? Chorus. Really, Sir John, this is too revolting. Hush! Decency! Sharp. "And, with the aforesaid legacies and exceptions, I do will and bequeath the whole of my fortune, in India Stock, Bonds, Exchequer Bills, Three per Cent. Consols, and in the Bank of Calcutta (constituting him hereby sole residuary legatee and joint executor with the aforesaid Henry Graves, Esq.), to Alfred Evelyn, now, or formerly of Trinity College, Cambridge-Being, I am told, an oddity, like myself-the only one of my relations who never fawned on me; and who, having known privation, may the better employ wealth." Sir John. My dear fellow, I wish you joy: you are a great man now-a very great man! Gloss. If I can be of any use to you Stout. Or I, sir Blount. Or I! Shall I put you up at the clubs? Sharp. You will want a man of business. Mr. Mordaunt's affairs. I transacted all Sir John. Tush, tush! Mr. Evelyn is at home here—always looked on him as a son! Nothing in the world we would not do for him! Nothing! Eve. Lend me £10 for my old nurse!; Eve. My friends, pray be seated; I wish to consult you. This day twelve months I succeeded to an immense income, and as, by a happy coincidence, on the same day I secured your esteem, so now I wish to ask you if you think I could have spent that income in a way more worthy your good opinion. Gloss. Impossible! excellent taste-beautiful house! Lady Frank. Splendid pictures! Graves. And a magnificent cook! Omnes. [except Sir John]. Very true! Eve. What say you, Sir John? You may think me a little extravagant; but you know that in this world the only way to shew one's self thoroughly respectable is to make a thoroughly respectable show. Sir John. Certainly-certainly! No, you could not have done better. Geor. Certainly. Don't retrench, Alfred! Gloss. Retrench! nothing so plebeian! Stout. Plebeian, sir! worse than plebeian!—it is against all the rules of public morality. Every one knows, now-adays, that extravagance is a benefit to the population— encourages art-employs labour-and multiplies spinningjennies. Eve. You reassure me! I own I did think that a man worthy of friends so sincere might have done something better than feast-dress-drink-play-. Gloss. Nonsense!- we like you the better for it. Eve. And you are as much my friends now as when you offered me £10 for my old nurse? Sir John. A thousand times more so, my dear boy! But who's our new friend? Eve. Who! the very man who first announced to me the wealth which you allow I have spent so well. But what's the matter, Sharp? SHARP [whispers to EVELYN]. Eve. [aloud]. The bank's broke! Sir John. Broke! what bank? Eve. Flash, Brisk, & Co. Sir John. But I warned you—you withdrew? Sir John. Oh! Not much in their hands? you Eve. Why, I told all I possess was at my banker's— but don't look so frightened! To-morrow, Sharp, we'll talk of this! One day more-one day, at least, for enjoyment. Sir John. Oh! a pretty enjoyment! Blount. And he borrowed £700 of me! Sir John. And £500 of me! Stout. Oh! a regular Jeremy Diddler! Eve. But you're not going?-You, too, Glossmore ?—you, Blount?--you, Stout? Gloss. Oh, this might have been expected from a man of such ambiguous political opinions! Stout. Don't stop me, sir. No man of common enlightenment would have squandered his substance in this way. Pictures and statues ?-baugh! Eve. Why, you all said I could not spend my money better! Ha ha! ha!—the absurdest mistake!-you don't fancy I'm going to prison?-Ha! ha!-Why don't you laugh, Sir John? -Ha ha! ha! Sir John. Sir, this horrible levity! Gloss. [pausing]. Dinner! Stout. Dinner! a very good smell! Eve [to Sir John]. Turtle and venison too. That's right-come along. But, I say, Blount-Stout-Glossmore -Sir John-one word first; will you lend me £10 for my old nurse? Ah! you fall back.-Behold a lesson for all who build friendship upon their fortune, and not their virtues! You lent me hundreds this morning to squander upon pleasure-you would refuse me £10 now to bestow upon benevolence. Go-we are at one with each other-go! Graves.. Heyday! what's all this? Eve. Ha! ha!-the scheme prospers-the duper is duped! Come, my friends-come; when the standard of money goes down, in the great battle between man and fate-why, a blessing to the brave hearts that refuse to desert us. SYMPATHY. WHENEVER we are formed by nature for any active purpose, the passion which animates us to it is attended with delight, or a pleasure of some kind, let the subject-matter be what it will: and, as our Creator has designed we should be united together by so strong a bond as that of sympathy, he has therefore twisted along with it a proportionable quantity of this ingredient; and always in the greatest proportion where our sympathy is most wanted,-in the distresses of others. If this passion was simply painful, we should shun, with the greatest care, all persons and places that could excite such a passion; as some, who are so far gone in indolence as not to endure any strong impressions, actually do. But the case is widely different with the greater part of mankind: there is no spectacle we so eagerly pursue, as that of some uncommon and grievous calamity; so that, whether the misfortune is before our eyes, or whether they are turned back to it in history, it always touches with delight; but it is not an unmixed delight, but blended with no small uneasiness. The delight we have in such things, hinders us from shunning scenes of misery; and the pain we feel, prompts us to relieve ourselves in relieving those who suffer: and all this (antecedent to any reasoning) by an instinct that works to its own purposes, without our concurrence.-Burke. COPPERFIELD'S COURTSHIP. [By kind permission of Messrs. CHAPMAN & HALL.] I was articled to Spenlow and Jorkins. I had ninety pounds a-year from my aunt. My rooms were engaged for twelve months, certain. About this time I made three discoveries : first, that my landlady, Mrs. Crupp, was a martyr to a curious disorder called "the spazzums," which was generally accompanied by inflammation of the nose. Secondly, that something peculiar in the temperature of my pantry made the brandy bottles burst. Thirdly, that I was alone in the world, and much given to record that fact in fragments of English versification. On the day I was articled, Mr. Spenlow remarked that he should have been happy to have seen me at his house in Norwood, to celebrate our becoming connected, but for his domestic arrangements being in some disorder, on account of the expected return of his daughter from finishing her education in Paris. In a week or two he referred to this, and said, that if I would do him the favour to come down on Saturday and stay till Monday, he would be extremely happy. Of course I said I would do him the favour, and he was to drive me down in his phaeton, and bring me back. There was a lovely garden to Mr. Spenlow's house, and though it was not the best time of the year for seeing a garden, it was so beautifully kept, I was quite enchanted. "Here Miss Spenlow walks by herself," I thought. "Dear me!" We went into the house, which was cheerfully lighted up, and into a hall where there were all sorts of hats, caps, great coats, plaids, gloves, whips, and walking sticks. "Where is Miss Dora?" said Mr. Spenlow. "Dora!" I thought. "What a beautiful name!" We turned into a room near at hand, and I heard a voice say, "Mr. Copperfield, my daughter Dora." It was no doubt Mr. Spenlow's voice, but I didn't know it, and I didn't care whose it was. All was over in a moment. I had fulfilled my destiny: I was a captive and a slave. I loved Dora Spenlow to |