step to Cap'n's office and SETTLE!" On the wharf, again, a negro pokes you in the ribs, with, "Carriage, maʼam?”. "Take your baggage?" cry out fifty licensed runaways, hired by the Corporation out of the House of Refuge-the only legitimate opera house in the city. Get into Broadway, and a Greenwich coach runs over you, while a Bowery omnibus heals your wounds with, "Bowery! right up! take a seat, ma'm!" while you are rolling in the mud. "Hot corn! ho-ut co-orn!" cries a muddy-faced Abyssinian, as she pokes into your amazed eye an ear of maize. "Hot corn, piping hot! come and buy my lilly white corn and let me go home." -I particularly commend the last cry to your study before Horn & Co. get hold of it." Baked pears! baked pears !', chimes in an old wench, as she applies a pair each side of your nose. "Eysters! here's your fine fat eysters! Try

one, ma'm."

Then some tender urchin ushers out his democratic infidelity, and a third takes up the counter and screams at the top of his alto, New Ery, Sir? New Ery, Sir?" and seventy-ninthly chimes in some Conservative in base, jing. ling harsh discord, against whom all cry out, "Keep your Times, sir, keep your Times." "Any soap fat? any ashes?", cries a decent looking Yankee, who pretends to be an Irishman, so that he may have the liberty of the town, and can steal easily. His comrade at his side cries legitimate Tipperary, vociferating in tripple allegretto, "Onny sopfat on oshes?" "Toot! toot! toot!" goes a tin horn, while a little boy running along side of it cries, "Here's your fine fresh mackerel ! -Toot! toot!-here they go-ey!" Then comes some sweet minstrelsy from the sweeps,-all beautifully black, and with the sweetest teeth, my love. I am told some of them are our own emancipated, from Jamaica. Such music as they have got! Such throat-rolls! Such eye-waves! It would be

-

impossible for any English woman to be here for a day without becoming an advocate of anti-slavery. Listen, and put it into poetry and sing it. "O! 0-0-0-0-oh! O! 0-0 0-oh-oh! O! oh! ohi, ohi! oho!" It rolls from their angelic, sooty tapanities, which the people of the States vulgarly call "lips," with such a pleasant grace, that it always reminds me of the dying howl of my dear lap-dog Julio-whom you fed to death with too much toast,-crying for another bathe in the milkpot at breakfast.

I have not mentioned a tenth part of the parties in this opera-I have given you but some of the principal characters; you must fill up the under-actors, supernumeraries' and spectators' names yourself. The Carnival in Rome, or in Venice, is a fool to it. People there act-here they live their parts. It is a chapter of their education and duty. Every crier must be appointed by a court; auctioneers and masters in Chancery are nominated by the Governor, and elected by the Senate. Little-necked clam-boys are examined and certificated by Chief Chamberlain and Lord High Hospitaller Harry Van Cott, at the Golden City of Jim Acre. Few, I am told, pass the test; the most being destined for weeks-Cale.—i. e. Calendar—to improve for their desired circuit. They get their throats in sweet order after this tuition, and can sing like gypseys. Sweet monkeys one got my cornelian off my finger Sunday afternoon, so innocently and full of play! Poor thing, how sorry he was he couldn't find it on the carpet! He was an English boy, my precious one, born on the passage, crying all the way! Wasn't that funny? But instinct taught his cry. His mother's thought at his conception taught him New York. Your natural shrewdness and good sense will readily find the reason why the Americans have succeeded so desperately in gorging our best mu

their mobocratic stools.

sicians; whistling down every bird in the British horizon to They love music, and they will have it. They have a taste. They made Malibran, and gave her a husband and a name. Every raspberry girl from Bergen knows this, and when she pours out sound of "rarseburies" from her wide-startling lips, she is careful to stream from a deep-rushing throat, and to volume out the tone opposite the house of the Alderman of the district, and sell to him a penny a basket cheaper than to any of the commonalty. I cry you mercy for this long epistle. Far, but faithful, Believe me, I think their cries "Macedonian,"

Though beautiful to be listened to, only, your own

TROLLOPE.

THREE HOURS WITH TIME.

Clara

It was a sultry afternoon in the month of August. was not, as I had hoped she would be, in her seat at church. My disappointment and a hearty dinner made me wish myself back at home; and I beheld with dismay the Rev. Dr. Spintext, so celebrated for his acuteness in drawing distinctions, and for his ability in expounding mysteries, wipe away the perspiration with his blue cotton handkerchief, as he repeated for the third time, in a climacteric of emphasis, a text from the Apocrypha. A wicked, heathenish languor came over me; my head was dropping upon the desk in front of me, when I felt my elbow slightly touched by some person in the aisle. I turned around, and observed a significant, queer-look

ing old gentleman, in whose face was combined a singular appearance of youth and age. His face was wrinkled all over; yet the wrinkles were not the furrows of decay; each one was full of elasticity and life; and his eye, which was protected by long grey lashes, exhibited the buoyancy and good humor of youth. His person was enwrapped in a loose grey cloak, which effectually prevented a close scrutiny into the figure of the wearer. I had, however, no time for observation, for the old man, leaning over the pew door, immediately addressed me in a low voice, and asked,

"Will you step out with me one moment?"

I was heartily glad to get an excuse for leaving the theopolemic arena; and hoping that the congregation would think I was suddenly sent for on important business, I immediately unbuttoned the door, and followed the old man out of church. As we proceeded down the aisle, I observed that the doctor stopped, and the people stared, as if astounded at my irreverence; and all eyes were turned upon me. To my surprise not a creature looked at, or seemed even to observe the old man, who moved along as noiselessly and swiftly as a cloud. When we had at last fairly got out into the churchyard, and were alone, my new friend turned to me.

"You have no disposition, I perceive," said he, with a humorous yet courteous glance of his eye, "to stay and see that old screw-driver boring into non-essentials, and destroying bad instruments in trying to prove worse theories? Come, I have invited some friends of mine to a symposium with me to-day. You will be pleased with their acquaintance. You will go with me? Get on my back?"

This was all said sooner than I can repeat it, and the deed followed the invitation with infinite rapidity. Quicker than thought I found myself astride of the old gentleman's shoulVOL. II.-12

dark vapor, and was struck off a very gen

ders, and before I could recover breath, we were above the steeple of the church. As we began to ascend, my future host stretched out from underneath me a pair of huge black wings, with which he made the air to scream, as if severely wounded by the rapid strokes of their pinions. His old gray cloak floated off behind us, in the shape of a soon lost in ether. The rushing wind teel wig, with which his bald head had been protected; and my new friend, now stripped off his different masks and coverings, flew, confessed and proven to my astonished eyes, old father Time. There could be no illusion. There was his horrid scythe in one hand, and his hour-glass in the other, and his single gray forelock, floating in the wind; and certainly no genius nor devil could fly half so fast. Up, up we flew. What a situation for a poor sinner like me!

My

My health was not very good; and my friends had lately been telling me that my days were short, and that my time was passing fast away; but this was rather faster work than either my friends or myself expected to see going on. whole life, and all the thoughts and feelings of my life, seemed centered in a single point. I thought of my many insults, neglects, and abuses of the old gentleman; and horror stupified me when I remembered that I had several times, tried even to kill him. "It is all over with me, now!" thought I: "this autocrat of the world, this ruiner of empires, this humbler of proud and wicked hearts, is about to take his swift revenge." My limbs relaxed, my muscles seemed to melt, when the old gentleman, turning his head partly round, spoke in a sharp tone,—as if to chide me for my want of confidence, and bade me hold on tighter. I felt re-assured by his manner.

"You much mistake my character," said he; “

you have