lious donkey, restored order in a much shorter time than could have reasonably been expected, and the little party jogged slowly on together."

Leaving, in justice to the publishers, the marrow of the story, to gratify the future curiosity of the reader, we turn to the second tale in the volume, and the only one with which 'Boz' has any thing to do- namely, 'Some Passages in the Life of Francis Loosefish, Esq.' The oblique humor of Charles Lamb, and his happy choice of language, may be seen throughout the whole of this sketch. We select a few characteristic extracts:

"I could endure this sort of thing no longer. I felt that I could not. I would pay no more debts. My creditors must consent to remain in statu quo until I could turn myself round. I settled this in my own mind during the preceding night - a night of restless and feverish anxiety. The pleasures of reading are manifold, and while they had me in their books, a record of strange and intense interest would never be wanting to them. I would say to them, in the words of my favorite author,

'If you have writ your annals true 't is there;'

And there, an' it please you, it must continue to remain.

"Filled with this irrevocable resolution, I arose and dressed myself. I must leave my lodgings that very day. It would be well also to arrange and take a mental inventory of my wearing apparel, and goods, chattels, and appurtenances of whatever description. New lodgings are strange, and sometimes dangerous domiciles. Honesty is a scarce article very few have Blackstone at their fingers' ends. I found, then, after I had completed my toilet, my extra wardrobe to consist of one pair of azure unwhisperables, in a rapid decline from exposure to incessant thorough-drafts - - a shirt which had stuck to me through good and evil report, with more adhesive attachment than did the shirt of Nessus, the Centaur, to the limbs of Hercules - and two pair of old, exceeding old stockings, such as, to judge them by their appearance, might have been knitted by Mary Queen of Scots, for her husband Darnley.

"Over and above this abundance of gear, I could boast a razor, better fitted to take off the beards of oysters than of men a small tooth-brush, and a large tooth comb, the bristles of one about equal in number to the teeth of the other- a superannuated hair-brush that could make itself useful as a battledore-and a locket, presented to me by my cousin Ellen, of inestimable worth to me, but of no great intrinsic value: indeed, a nominal relative of mine, whose house may at any time be recognised by its fanciful decoration of three gilded balls, had apprized me, only a few days previously, that the bijou in question was not worth two-pence."

Mr. Loosefish's reasons for so precipitate a retreat from his lodgings are given in a few words:

"In the first place, Gripe, a sheriff's officer for the county of Middlesex, a man who had paralyzed more shoulder-blades than any two bailiffs extant, was on the look out after me. I had heard heard of, nay I had seen him. He was pervading Pentonville like a pestilence, and he wanted to take measure of me, on an old suit, with a long piece of parchment. In the second place, my landlord had disgusted me. Some men are absurdly unreasonable. He wanted his little bill. He resided, as I have hinted, at Pentonville. He was by name Sullen, by profession a milkman, by habit a drunkard. Pentonville was a pleasant place- very much so. Milk is nutritious, the breath of cows wholesome. Nor was Sullen, during the earlier period of my sojourn with him, either an unamiable or an unintellectual character. It was he who exploded the vulgar error that gentlemen in his line put chalk into their milk. He was decisive upon that point. He said it was not chalk.

"But as time wore away, a change much to be deprecated took place in the manners and behaviour of my landlord. Whether it was that his cows yielded milk less kindly than heretofore, or that he himself possessed less of the milk of human kindness, was at that time a problem to me, until at length the unworthy truth flashed upon me. Yes, I saw by the gradually intenser blueness, which was now become blackness of his physiognomy, and the half-and-half pepper-and-salt expression in the face of his wife (a worthy woman, too,) that they expected long arrears of rent from me. They wanted their little bill.""

After divers adventures, our hero finds new quarters; but what 'him there befel,' is best recorded in his own language:

"The landlord, as I entered the house, was staring with all his might at a wizened

lemon, suspended from a hook in a small net; and yawning, (for by this strange process he had been endeavoring to stave off slumber,) demanded my pleasure.

"Can I have a bed here to-night?' I inquired, with my accustomed suavity. "Certainly, Sir,' replied the host, if you do not mind sleeping with another gentleman in the room.'

"Not in the least. Misery, landlord, makes a man acquainted with strange bed-fellows, as our great bard says.'

"Ah!' said the host, as though he understood something, but did not exactly know what. Here, Betsey, show this gentleman the room.'

This honest fellow sleeps soundly,' thought I, when the girl had retired, and left me alone with my companion;' if snoring conduce to slumber, he is fast enough.'

་་

"I stumbled accidentally against the bed. For this I was sorry at the time, for I would not willingly mar the repose of any human being. The unknown turned himself round, with a blaspheming grunt, and I saw his face gradually relapse into quiescent innocuousness.

"I saw his face subside, as I have stated, and moved not; for I had no power to move. It was Gripe, the bailiff! My Pentonville persecutor lay before me! Affable wolf! meek bear!' and his withering digits were harmlessly expanded on the counterpane. Now could I have devised engines for his life, but that my senses presently returning, warned me to provide for my own safety. With the cautious retrogression of a crab, therefore, I left the dreaded sleeper, and forthwith applied the little foolscap of an extinguisher to the candle, which was perhaps the very wisest thing I ever did in my life. Slinking into bed, I lay in horrible suspense. Perhaps he might be dreaming of me, and would rise while I slept and by some preternatural instinct lay hands upon his quaking victim. Awaking from uneasy repose, I arose about five in the morning, with a sort of tic douloureux in my left shoulder, impossible to be described.

"The coat of my ruthless companion lay beside me. I took it up and examined the contents of the pockets. Among other slips of parchment, (I think they term them writs,) was one calling upon the sheriff of Middlesex, greeting, to secure me forthwith; stating that I owed 541. 8s. to two gentlemen of similar names, and describing me as at present employed in running up and down my bailiwick.'' This and the other similar documents I destroyed, and dressing myself hastily, took my leave in deep disgust of a man who, hardened by long and debasing custom, had evidently quite forgotten that liberty is not only the birthright but the privilege of Englishmen."

Mr. Loosefish at last takes the advice of a friend of whom he has adroitly borrowed ten pounds, and seeks him out a place where he may superadd board to his lodging. He succeeds in finding a home suited to his ostensible character and condition- for he is now 'unexpectedly detained in London by a law-suit, involving a vast sum, and has foolishly sent on his wardrobe, (except a small change of linen,) to Paris, where his father the General has long resided.' At the end of his first three weeks, in his new lodgings, the landlady intimates, obliquely, that she thinks it high time 'somebody had a sight of somebody's money.' In vain Mr. Loosefish starts at the knock of the postman, and curses his Parisian correspondent. His hostess 'smokes' him. She, too, wants' her little bill.' He is 'perplext in the extreme,' and — after severe mental struggles, and calculating the chances of a loan from some of the boarders, whose apparent dispositions, gathered from a short acquaintance, he canvasses with great discrimination - he at last pitches upon a benevolent, exemplary lodger, a great favorite with the landlady, who is understood to be very wealthy, as the man best fitted to be favored with an opportunity of conferring a small obligation upon him, in the loan of ten pounds. What follows cannot be clipped of a paragraph. It is rich and rare:

"One night I was left alone with the philanthropist. The ladies had gone to a minor theatre with tickets; Cox was rasping away at his violoncello in the back parlor. Trotter was dozing over the fire, with the cat on one knee, and a cotton pocket-handkerchief (he hated Bandanas) on the other. He looked the impersonation of disinterestedness. Ten pounds! It was a trifle.

"A cough was no bad introduction to subjects of this nature. I was seized with an opportune fit, which awoke him.

"I am really very rude to fall asleep in your company,' said the benevolent creature. "Not in the least, Mr. Trotter,' said I, with a polite bow. The time was come. I trembled with agitation.

"Will you excuse, Mr. Trotter,' I resumed, 'the liberty I am about to take, in asking a very extraordinary favor. My agent, Sir, has been culpably remiss my remittances

have not yet come to hand- and that excellent and truly intelligent woman - Mrs. Moon, I mean-is naturally solicitous - excessively so - about my little' (here I smiled and interposed 'pshaw!')-'my absurdly small account.'

"My dear Mr. Loosefish, how can I serve you?' said my companion, looking about the room, with an air of vague surprise.

or

"Simply and briefly, Sir, by the trifling loan of ten pounds, for a very short time.' "Trotter fell back in his chair, with the most original face ever invented.

'My dear good Sir,' said he, this is the most extraordinary application—' "Peculiar, I admit,' said I, slightly chapfallen, 'but let me hope not offensively bold,

666

'No-no- I'm not offended, far from it!' cried he; 'but then, to make such a request to me to me-'

"Nay, Mr. Trotter,' and I smiled seductively, and shook my head - 'I have long marked your virtues- your qualities of head and heart

"I paused, for my friend was cogitating deeply. There was a long silence, only broken by occasional bursts of anguish from the overwrought violoncello, which Cox, seemingly excited to frenzy, was wreaking himself upon in the back parlor. -'you

"Mr. Loosefish,' said Trotter, at length, in a tone perfectly novel to my earare a man of the world- I can see that-so am I. You have placed confidence in me it shall not be broken. Can you be secret?'

"I bowed.

"You want ten pounds,' continued Trotter, lowering his voice, and pushing his finger toward the door of the back parlor; 'you have been living here upon speculationwithout any certain means, eh? Come, confess it.'

·

"Sir!' cried I, with becoming indignation, do not presume

"I know you have,' said Trotter; a word in your ear:- so have Il

"It was now my turn to fall back in my chair, while Trotter indulged in a series of regularly measured winks.

"Why! Trotter, you astonish me!- you must be joking!'

"A fact,' said the wealthy old gentleman.

Why, you've been living here six months!'

"More,' said Trotter; and the deuce a farthing have I paid. But a certain person will very soon be Mrs. Trotter.'

"I could have hugged to my bosom the ingenious, but I fear I must call him the unprincipled, old gentleman.

"I'll tell you what I'll do,' said he. 'You must n't stay here; you'll disconcert my plan they'll perhaps suspect me. I'll guarranty the debt you owe them. I'll take it upon myself, and when I'm married you shall have twenty pounds. But a young fellow like you need never want money. Were you ever in love?'

"I have felt that passion, Trotter, but marriage-'

"The thing I mean,' said he.

Have you ever thought about it?'

"Why, no,' said I, 'not so deeply, perhaps

"As its importance demands,' interrupted Trotter: 'only think, a rich widow, with freeholds, or long leases; or a soft spinster, with hard cash as a set off.'

"Not to be had, old fellow, not to be had.'

"Ay, but to be imagined, young fellow. Here's a secret for you that, if you have any friends, shall melt them; that will thaw the most Hyperborean tailor; that will provide furniture, lease, fixtures, every thing. Say you are going to be married.'

"Say you're going to be married! It had a plausible and pleasing degree of fiction to recommend it.

"Try it short,' said Trotter, 'going to be married,' and he repeated the golden sentence, as though parading it for my inspection.

"Going to be married!' it was still better. Trotter,' cried I, and I took up my can. dle, it will do. Good night!- God bless you!'

"How unaccountable that I never should have hit upon it! Why, my uncle in the country, whom I had given up in despair, must come down upon so special a plea. It was worth a cool hundred or two at least. Even Magson would be practicable after this. Going to be married?' I slept upon it."

*

"I tried the new invention upon a tailor in Oxford-street the very next morning. It succeeded to admiration, and within a week I was in a situation to take leave of Mrs. and Miss Moon and the two gentlemen, in a suit of superfine Saxony, that might have defied the criticism of a Brummel.

"To you, dear madam,' said I, addressing my kind hostess, while a tear worked its passage into my eye,' to you I feel that I shall be eternally indebted.' And here I think I may take credit to myself for the utterance of strict and open truth. 'But to Mr. Trotter,' I continued, 'I acknowledge myself under an obligation which can never be effaced.'

"He is indeed a kind soul,' cried Mrs. Moon, turning a soft eye upon the counterfeit Cræsus, who bowed deprecatingly. Every thing has been satisfactorily arranged, Mr.

Loosefish; we shall be happy to see you whenever you pass our way. Good-bye. Farewell."

We have dwelt at some length upon the recent writings of 'Boz,' the more because we have been compelled to pass his previous efforts with but slight comment. And in conclusion, we can only repeat, that of all humorous writers of the present era, commend us to the renowned author of the 'Papers of the Pickwick Club.'

THREE EXPERIMENTS OF LIVING. In one volume. pp. 143. Boston: WILLIAM S. DAMRELL and SAMUEL COLMAN. New-York: WILEY AND PUTNAM.

THIS little volume is, without exception, the best work of the kind which it has ever been our good fortune to read. The name of the author is not given; but we have somewhere seen it mentioned, that it is written by a lady: if this be so, Miss SEDGWICK must be that lady, or some equally gifted female is treading closely in her steps, in the department of domestic literature. The 'three experiments of living' described, are 'living within the means, living up to the means, and living beyond the means;' and each division is illustrated by incidents simple in themselves, but highly effective, and even dramatic. The style is plain, nervous, and easy, and the inculcations of the work are all fraught with the best tendencies.

Without trespassing too far upon the condensed interest of the book, we offer two extracts the first containing the complaints of a poor and sick woman, the causes for which we fear are but too common, and the second some just and forcible comments upon a grievous folly on the part of a large portion of the American people, resident in our cities:

"The next day Jane went to see Mrs. Barber, and proposed to her her plan of clothing the children, and providing a school for them. The woman expressed her gratitude, and Jane thought it but just to mention her benefactors. When she named Mrs. Hart among them, Mrs. Barber said, 'Indeed, madam, I do not ask her to give me any thing, if she will only pay me what is justly my due.' Jane now learned, with astonishment, that the poor woman had washed 'in her kitchen' for nearly a year, without being able to obtain payment.

"It was for that, madam, I sent to entreat her to come and see me, hoping she might be moved by my distress; and she did, you know, pay me a small sum. I have credited her for that; but it is a small part of what she owes me.'

"I hope,' said Jane, after a long pause, in which her countenance discovered the workings of her mind, I hope there are few such instances as this.'

"I never met with such a one- not exactly' — added she hesitatingly; but, indeed, madam, the rich little consider how important our wages for a day's work are to us. It would be bad manners in us to insist upon being paid immediately; and yet many 's the time when I have depended upon one day's wages for my children's food

for the next.'

"It must be such a trifle to the rich, that if you only let them know you are going away, they will pay you.'

"It is because it is such a trifle to them, I suppose,' said the woman, that they cannot understand how important it is to us. Some how or other, rich ladies never have any thing they call change, and they are very apt to say, 'they will remember it,' and another time will do as well;' and so it is as well for them, but not for us.'

on.

"Mrs. Barber's heart seemed to be quite opened by Jane's sympathy, and she went

"Indeed, ma'am, I sometimes think there is more kindness toward the poor than there is justice. The ladies are very good in getting up societies and fairs to help us but they very often seem unwilling to pay us the full price of our labor. If they would pay us well, and give us less, it would be better for us.'

Perhaps you are right,' said Jane, about paying for work; but only think how much good has been done by fairs!'

"Yes, ma'am; good has been done to some, and injury to others. I know of a poor woman who was born a lady, and who was reduced in her circumstances. Her health was very feeble, but still she was able to earn a living by making those curious

little things that they sell at fairs; but since the ladies have taken to making them, it is hard times with her; for she says the market is overrun.'

for

"The right way,' said Jane, would be to employ these people to work for others, and instead of the ladies making pin-cushions and emery-bags, to buy them ready made, and sell them again. Then charity would operate equally among the poor; what one class could not make, another could, and labor would be exchanged.' "I don't know how it ought to be settled. Perhaps it is all right as it is; but we poor folks think we have our wrongs. For instance, ma'am, I sometimes do washing for people at boarding-houses. They will appoint me to come about 9 o'clock in the morning to get their clothes. When I go, very likely they are not up. Then I must wait till they are sometimes an hour or more. All this is lost time to me; and time, to daily laborers, is money. My husband was a carpenter; and he used to say, that he gave the rich a great deal more than he got from them, for he gave them time. One fine lady and another would send for him, and ask him if he could not put a shelf up here, or make a closet there; and after he had measured and calculated, perhaps they would come to the conclusion not to have any thing done, and he had his trouble for his pains.'

"All the wrongs you have mentioned,' said Jane, 'seem to arise from want of consideration, not want of benevolence.'

--

"That's pretty much what I said, ma'am, at first that now-a-days there was more kindness to the poor than justice. If I was paid for all the time I have wasted in waiting upon the rich, sometimes for clothes, sometimes for pay for I often have to go two or three times before I can find a lady at home- I should be better off than I am now. To be sure, it is but small sums that are due to us; but my husband used to say these ought to be paid right away, because they do n't go upon interest like larger

ones.'

"You seem to have thought a good deal on this subject,' said Jane.

"I take it,' said Mrs. Barber, 'that we must all think; at least, I never saw the time when I could drive thoughts out of my head, though I am sure, when you first took me up, it was sad enough to think; and if it had not been for my poor children, I should have been glad enough to have laid down in the cold grave, and thought no more in this world.'

The subjoined remarks close the first division of the volume-'living within the means:'

"We fear there are few who sincerely repeat, 'Give me neither poverty nor riches.' "This was the situation to which Frank had attained. Blest with health, a promising family, respected as a physician, and cherished as a friend with the wife of his youth, the partner and lightener of his cares it seemed as if there was little more to desire. We talk of the blessing of an amiable disposition; what is it but the serenity of a mind at piece with itself of a mind that is contented with its own lot, and which covets not another's? They sometimes made a morning call at the houses of the rich and fashionable; but Jane looked at the splendid apartments with vacant admiration. It never for a moment entered her head that she should like such herself. She returned home to take her seat by the side of the cradle, to caress one child, and provide for the wants of another, with a feeling that nobody was so rich as herself.

"It would be pleasant to dwell longer on this period of Dr. Fulton's life. It was one of honest independence. Their pleasures were home pleasures- the purest and the most satisfactory that this world affords. We cannot but admit that they might have been elevated and increased by deeper and more fervent principle. Nature had been bountiful in giving them kind and gentle dispositions, and generous emotions; but the bark, with its swelling sails and gay streamers, that moves so gallantly over the rippling waters, struggles feebly against the rushing wind and foaming wave. Prosperous as Frank might be considered, he had attained no success beyond what every industrious, capable young man may attain, who, from his first setting out in life, scrupulously limits his expenses within his means. This is, in fact, to be his text-book and his ægis. Not what others do not what seems necessary and fitting to his station in life, but what he, who knows his own affairs, can decide is in reality fitting. Shall we, who so much prize our independence, give up, what, in a political view alone, is dross, compared to independence of character and habits? Shall we, who can call master spirits from every portion of our land, to attest to the hard-earned victory of freedom and independence, give up the glorious prize, and suffer our minds to be subjugated by foreign luxuries and habits? Yet it is even so; they are fast invading our land; they have already taken possession of our sea-ports, and are hastening toward the interior. Well may British travellers scoff, when they come among us, and see our own native Americans adopting the most frivolous parts of civilized life-its feathers and gewgaws- our habits and customs, made up of awkward imitations of English and French; our weak attempts at aristocracy; our late hours of visiting, for which no possible reason can be assigned, but that they do so in Europe! Let us rather, with true independence, adopt