Did it remain there long? No. The serpent was on the watch; the train was laid; the mine was preparing; tho sapper and miner was at work! Before the bill had been in the parlor window three days-three days, gentlemena being, erect upon two legs, and bearing all the outward. semblance of a man, and not of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell's house. He inquired within; he took the lodgings; and on the very next day, he entered into possession of them. This man was Pickwick—Pickwick, the defendant.

3. Of this man I will say little. The subject presents but few attractions; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, gentlemen, the men, to delight in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness, and of systematic villainy. I say systematic villainy, gentlemen; and when I say systematic villainy, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if he be in court, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more decent in him, more becoming, if he had stopped away. Let me tell him, further, that a counsel, in the discharge of his duty, is neither to be intimidated, nor bullied, nor put down; and that any attempt to do either the one or the other will recoil on the head of the attempter, be he plaintiff, or be he defendant; be his name Pickwick, or Noakes, or Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson.

4. I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick continued to reside constantly, and without interruption or intermission, at Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show you that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole of that time, waited on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his meals, looked out his linen for the washerwoman when it went abroad, darned, aired, and prepared it for wear when it came home; and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence. I shall show you that on many occasions he gave half-pence, and on some occasions even sixpence, to her little boy. I shall prove to you that on one occasion, when he returned from the country, he distinctly and in terms offered her marriage; previously, however, taking special care that there should be no witnesses to their solemn contract. And I am in a situation to prove to you, on the testimony of three of his

own friends-most unwilling witnesses, gentlemen-most unwilling witnesses-that on that morning, he was discovered by them holding the plaintiff in his arms, and soothing her agitation by his caressess and endearments.

5. And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters have passed between these parties-letters that must be viewed with a cautious and suspicious eye-letters that were evidently intended, at the time, by Pickwick, to mislead and delude any third parties into whose hands they might fall. Let me read the first:-" Garraway's, twelve o'clock.—Dear Mrs. B. Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick." Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops and tomato sauce! Yours, Pickwick! Chops!-gracious fathers!—and tomato sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled away by such shallow artifices as these? The next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. "Dear Mrs. B.: I shall not be at home tomorrow. Slow coach." And then follows this very remarkable expression-Do n't trouble yourself about the warming-pan." The warming-pan! Why, gentlemen, who does trouble himself about a warming-pan? Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate herself about this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the case) it is a mere cover for hidden fire-a mere substitute for some endearing word or promise, agreeably to a preconcerted system of correspondence, artfully contrived by Pickwick with a view to his contemplated desertion? And what does this allusion to the slow coach mean? For aught I know it may be a reference to Pickwick himself, who has most unquestionably been a criminally slow coach during the whole of this transaction, but whose speed will be now very unexpectedly accelerated, and whose wheels, gentlemen, as he will find c his cost, will very soon be greased by you.

6. But enough of this, gentlemen. It is difficult to smile with an aching heart. My client's hopes and prospects are ruined; and it is no figure of speech to say that her "occupation is gone" indeed. The bill is down; but there is no tenant. Eligible single gentlemen pass and repass: but there is no invitation for them to inquire within or without.

All is gloom and silence in the house: even the voice of the child is hushed; his infant sports are disregarded, when his mother weeps. But Pickwick, gentlemen-Pickwick, the ruthless destroyer of this domestic oasis in the desert of Goswell street-Pickwick, who has choked up the well, and thrown ashes on the sward-Pickwick, who comes before you to-day with his heartless tomato sauce and warmingpans-Pickwick still rears his head with unblushing effrontery, and gazes without a sigh on the ruin he has made! Damages, gentlemen, heavy damages, is the only punishment with which you can visit him-the only recompense you can award to my client. And for those damages she now appeals to an enlightened, a high minded, a rightfeeling, a conscientious, a dispassionate, a sympathizing, a contemplative jury of her civilized countrymen !

CHARLES DICKENS.

CCXXVI.-SOCRATES SNOOKS.

1. MISTER Socrates Snooks, a lord of creation, The second time entered the married relation:

Xantippe Caloric accepted his hand,

And they thought him the happiest man in the land.
But scarce had the honeymoon passed o'er his head,
When, one morning, to Xantippe, Socrates said,
"I think, for a man of my standing in life,
This house is too small, as I now have a wife:
So, as early as possible, carpenter Carey

Shall be sent for to widen my house and my dairy.

2. "Now, Socrates, dearest," Xantippe replied,
"I hate to hear every thing vulgarly my'd;
Now, whenever you speak of your chattels again,
Say, our cow house, our barn yard, our pig pen.”

'By your leave, Mrs. Snooks, I will say what I please

Of my houses, my lands, my gardens, my trees."

"Say Our," Xantippe exclaimed in a rage.

"I won't, Mrs. Snooks, though you ask it an age!"

3. Oh, woman! though only a part of man's rib, If the story in Genesis do n't tell a fib.

Should your naughty companion e'er quarrel with you,
You are certain to prove the best man of the two.
In the following case this was certainly true;
For the lovely Xantippe just pulled off her shoe,
And laying about her, all sides at random,
The adage was verified-"Nil desperandum."

4. Mister Socrates Snooks, after trying in vain,
To ward off the blows which descended like rain,-
Concluding that valor's best part was discretion-
Crept under the bed like a terrified Hessian:
But the dauntless Xantippe, not one whit afraid,
Converted the siege into a blockade.

5. At last, after reasoning the thing in his pate, He concluded 't was useless to strive against fate; And so, like a tortoise protruding his head,

Said, "My dear, may we come out from under our bed?" "Hah! hah!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Socrates Snooks,

I perceive you agree to my terms, by your looks:

Now, Socrates,-hear me,-from this happy hour,

If

you 'll only obey me, I'll never look sour."

'Tis said the next Sabbath, ere going to church,

He chanced for a clean pair of trowsers to search:

Having found them, he asked, with a few nervous twitches, "My dear, may we put on our new Sunday breeches ?"

CCXXVII.-VARIETIES.

1.-HUSBAND VERSUS WIFE.

ABEL McAdam-may his tribe increase-
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the gas-light of his room,
A female spirit (dressed up a la Bloom-
Er,) writing some thing in a book of gold.
Exceeding drink had made McAdam bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest, dear?" The spirit raised its head,
And with a voice like that of cooing dove,
Murmured, "The names of men whom women love."
"And is mine one?" asked Abel. "No, sir-ee,"
Replied the spirit. Abel roared with glee,

Then coolly said, "Sweet sprite, write me as one
Who ne'er finds fault with what a woman 's done."
The Bloomer wrote and vanished; but the next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names by love of woman blessed;
When, lo! McAdam's name led all the rest!

66

2.-WHY DIGGEST THOU?

OLD man, for whom diggest thou this grave ?"
I asked as I walked along;

For I saw in the heart of London streets

A dark and busy throng.

'T was a strange, wild deed, but a wilder wish
Of the parted soul, to lie,

'Mid the troubled numbers of living men
Who would pass him idly by.

So I said, "For whom diggest thou this grave,
In the heart of London town?"

And the deep-toned voice of the digger replied-
"We're laying a gas-pipe down."

3. THE RETORT.

1 OLD Birch, who taught a village school,
Wedded a maid of homespun habit;
He was as stubborn as a mule,
And she was playful as a rabbit.

2. Poor Kate had scarce become a wife,

Before her husband sought to make her

The pink of country polished life,
And prim and formal as & Quaker.

3 One day the tutor went abroad,

And simple Kitty sadly missed him;
When he returned, behind her lord

She slyly stole, and fondly kissed him!

4. The husband's anger rose !-and red And white his face alternate grew!

"Less freedom, ma'am !" Kate sighed and said, "Oh, dear! I did n't know 't was you!"

G. P. MORRIS,