"Tom! Tom!" re-echoed the book-keeper, with the whole force of his lungs.

In came the gallant Tom, at the back-door, and directed all his attention to the last crier.

"What the devil you're bawlin' after, you damned baby-face you?”

"Let the boy alone !"-said his mistress, interposing"it was me that called you-There's a gentleman broke down above here, Tom."

"Yes! there's a gentleman broke down above here, Tom!" added the anxious Susan.

"Yes! there's a gentleman broke down above here, Tom!" superadded the undaunted Harry.

"And I wish to God you was broke down with him!" swore the angry Thomas, as he ran out to the scene of the accident.

In a few minutes the gentleman himself entered the bar-room, carrying a trunk of the smallest kind.

"Shall I take your trunk, sir?" asked Mistress Coming. "No thank you!-I shall only stop till my chaise is repaired. In the mean time you may prepare me some

thing to eat." Yes, sir.

What would you be pleased to have, sir?— but I dont think your chaise will be mended

"No;”—continued Tom, who had just returned—“Your chaise, sir, 'll not be mended this four hours yet; and it's good as ten miles to the town, your honour."

His honour was evidently conscious of being deceived; but aware, no doubt, of the folly of opposing, he only smiled good-naturedly, and said "The road must grow rapidly, my good fellow, to gain five miles in as many months. Well, well, hostess! I see I must stay to-night, whether I will or not. I will take dinner in my own apartment, if you please?"

"What will your worship choose? We have beef, and chicken, and

"O, any thing-any thing! It is of no importance what, provided it be nice."

"Of no importance!" quoth I to myself, "Eating of no importance !-Why, the man's a fool!" The landlady seemed to be of the same opinion; for her jaw dropped, and she exclaimed disconsolately, "La, sir! the gentleman must know what he likes best, sure!—we have cheap dinners and dear dinners-jist as the gentleman pleases." The stranger resumed his good-humoured smile-"The expense is of no importance, either, hostess; so pre. pare just what you think is best. Come, which is to be my room?"-Dame Coming was no longer of my opinion; her jaw rose again, and she exclaimed rather joyously, "O sir! you shall have something nice, depend upon it! This here is your worship's room--shall I carry in the gentleman's trunk, sir ?”. “Thank you! I'll take it in myself."

The lady exchanged looks of astonishment with her lover, s. c. Mr. Thomas Ostler. "I'd give a shillin' to know what's in that ere trunk!" said she...." And so would I!” said he. And so saying, the knight of the curry-comb pulled up his frock, plunged his hands into the abysses of his pockets, and left the room. "Harry dear!"-said the landlady" you'll wait on the gentleman. And do you mind, Harry-try and find what he's got in that ere trunk-that's a dear !"...." 66 Harry dear!-Thomas dear !" -muttered I-“O, damn your dears!"-and I followed the mistress of The Goose into her best apartment, viz. the kitchen-spitting, at every step, as though I had been born under the influence of Mercury.

CHAPTER VIII.

King Richard III. A. I.-Sc. IV.

-PRAY, what is become of your pride, Mr. Levis? It was bad enough, methinks, to play bar-keeper in a petty inn, without stooping to the office of waiter! I ask again-what is become of your pride, friend Jeremy?

It is not dead-as you begin to fancy, sweet Reader; nor asleep as you more than half suspect; but it has succumbed to want-as you wholly believe. O! your Pride is a lusty fellow, till he meets with Want. You may expose him to all the sneers and jeers in the world,—he will only curl his moustache, and strut the bigger; you may kick him from Dan to Beersheba, and from Beersheba back again to Dan,-he will only look the better for the excursion; you may even clothe him in rags,--and he will wrap his filth around him with true Catonian dignity, and frown defiance to the storm :-But pinch his belly-and, O Lord! you have Signior Pride crouching and crawling, as though he'd been bred in a fishing-smack, and had never walked erect in his life! Now-had I been unwil. ling to "wait upon the gentleman," I should no doubt in spite of my landlady's philanthropy-have been turned out of the house that night, and been found dead in the road the next morning.

-For Heaven's sake, don't mention it! The very idea is shocking!

O, I dare say, my loss would have grieved you: but that would not have brought me to life again. Therefore, lovely Reader-and you too, loved Reader, who have abused me for my want of pride-be contented to witness

the representation of Harry Johnson, waiter at The Goose tavern, by Jeremy Levis,-"it being his first and only appearance in that character,"-while to gratify you, in return for your condescension, the interlude shall be described with that regard to nature and that luxuriousness of explanation which so justly distinguishes the modern "Dramatic Sketches."

The scene opens in a little apartment of The Goose tavern- -a bed on one side of the room-a table, in the middle, loaded with victuals enough for a dozen men. The stranger is seen seated at the table, eating as though the occupation were more of a task to him than a pleasure. Harry Johnson standing-not behind, as is the wont of waiters, but in front of the stranger-apparently studying the latter's countenance.

HARRY (aside-which is the Latin for internally)-I cannot imagine, for the life of me, what makes him so attractive. His face is certainly ugly ;-the eyebrows shaggy-the eyes sunken-the nose clumsy-the mouth large and muscular-and moreover he is pitted with the small-pox. What can it be ?—O, I have it; it is the light of pure benevolence, which plays upon his countenancethe music of a good heart, which breaks so richly from his lips.

STRANGER (looks up suddenly, and seems surprized at Harry's presence)-Young man, have you any business with me? Pray be seated-(shoving the table from him, and motioning Harry to a chair.)

HARRY-Sir?—I'm, I'm-the waiter, sir!

STRANGER-The devil you are! You the waiter of this petty tavern! (eyeing him from head to foot)— come, come, young man! (sternly) I'm too old for mockery.

HARRY-(greatly confused)—Well, sir !—I say it—I am waiter, here-for the present.

STRANGER-For the present!-This is strange.-Pray, how long have you been in this employment?

HARRY-For-for an hour, šir-that is, I mean

STRANGER-For an hour!-There's something wrong in this!Young man-(pausing, and looking steadily at him for a moment) I may seem inquisitive; I have a right to be so :-Your dress, your person, your voice, is that of a gentleman; and yet you would proclaim yourself a common menial! and in such a hole as this!(again pausing, and resuming his steady gaze.)

You seem disconcerted, sir. Come, come! unburthen yourself-speak to me as you would to a father! I am not wont to meddle with what does not concern me; and when I offer my services-in case you prove yourself worthy of them-my heart goes with my words, and my hand is ready to back my heart.

HARRY-(hesitates at first—then, as if some hope had suddenly presented itself, speaks abruptly)—Your suspicions are just, sir! I am not what I seem-I have assumed this character to save myself from starving.

[Here the personation of Harry Johnson having terminated, Jeremy Levis resumes the narrative in his own character.]

My explanation had an effect very different from what I expected; for he to whom it was addressed immediately rose from his chair, his eyes flashing anger, "Look ye sir! think not to make me the dupe of so bare-faced a falsehood! "Twill be the worse for yourself, if you deceive me. You may be sure I felt too indignant for reply therefore, endeavouring to assume a look expressive of my feelings, I bowed coldly and turned to quit the room. But just as I laid my hand upon the lock, the gentleman laid his upon my shoulder. 66 Stay!" said he, in the sweetest tone of his very sweet voice-"I may