cumstances. Heard Pickwick ask the boy the question about the marbles, but upon her oath did not know the difference between an alley tor and a commoney. By the CourtT.—During the period of her keeping company with Mr. Sanders, had received love letters, like other ladies. In the course of their correspondence Mr. Sanders had often called her a “duck,” but never “chops,” nor yet “tomato sauce.” He was particularly fond of ducks. Perhaps if he had been as fond of chops and tomato sauce, he might have called her that, as a term of affection. Serjeant Buzfuz now rose with more importance than he had yet exhibited, if that were possible, and vociferated: “Call Samuel Weller.” It was quite unnecessary to call Samuel Weller; for Samuel Weller stepped briskly into the box the instant his name was Hol ; and placing his hat on the oor, and his arms on the rail, took a bird’s-eye view of the bar, and a comprehensive survey of the bench, with a remarkably cheerful and lively aspect. “What's your name, sir,” inquired the judge. “Sam Weller, my lord,” replied that gentleman. “Do you spell it with a ‘V’ or a ‘W’?” inquired the judge. ‘That depends upon the taste and fanc of the speller, my lord,” replied Sam, “ never had occasion to spell it more than once or twice in my life, but I spells it with a ‘V.’” Here a voice in the gallery exclaimed aloud, “quite right too, Samivel, quite right. Put it down a we, my lord, put it down a we.” “Who is that, who dares to address the court?” said the little judge, looking up. “Usher.” “Yes, my lord.” “Bring that person here instantly.” “Yes, my lord.” But as the usher didn't find the person, he didn't bring him ; and, after a great commotion, all the people who had got up to look for the culprit, sat down again. The little judge turned to the witness as soon as his indignation would allow him to speak, and said, “Do you know who that was, sir?” “I rayther suspect it was my father, my lord,” replied §.

“Do you see him here now?” said the

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“No, I don't, my lord,” replied Sam, staring right up into the lantern in the roof of the court. “If you could have pointed him out, I would have committed him instantly,” said the judge. Sam bowed his acknowledgments and turned, with unimpaired cheerfulness of countenance, towards Serjeant Buzfuz. “Now, Mr. Weller,” said Serjeant Buzfuz. “Now, sir,” replied Sam. “I believe you are in the service of Mr. Pickwick, the defendant in this case. Speak up, if you please, Mr, Weller.” “I mean to speak up, sir,” replied Sam ; “I am in the service o' that 'ere ge!'I’man, and a wery good service it is.” “Little to do, and plenty to get, I supose?” said Serjeant Buzfuz, with jocuarity. “Oh, quite enough to get, sir, as the soldier said ven they ordered him three hundred and fifty lashes,” replied Sam. “You must not tell us what the soldier, or any other man, said, sir,” interposed the judge; “it’s not evidence.” “Wery good, my lord,” replied Sam. “Do you recollect anything particular happening on the morning when you were first engaged by the defendant; ell, Mr. Weller?” said Serjeant Buzsuz. “Yes I do, sir,” replied Sam. “Have the goodness to tell the jury what it was.” “I had a reg’lar new fit out o' clothes that mornin', gen'1'men of the jury" said Sam, “and that was a wery partickler and uncommon circumstance with me in those days.” Hereupon there was a general laugh; and the little judge, looking with an angry countenance over his desk, said, “you had better be careful, sir.” “So Mr. Pickwick said at the time, my lord,” replied Sam; “and I was wery careful o' that 'ere suit o' clothes; wery careful indeed, my lord.” The judge looked sternly at Sam for full two minutes, but Sam's features were so perfectly calm and serene that the judge said nothing, and motioned Serjeant Buzfuz to proceed. “Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Weller,” said Serjeant Buzfuz, folding his arms emphatically, and turning half-round to the jury, as if in mute assurance that he would §o the witness yet: “do you mean to tell me, Mr. Weller, that you saw nothing of this fainting on the part of the plaintiff in the arms of the defendant, which you have heard described by the witnesses?” “Certainly not,” replied Sam, “I was in the passage till they called me up,and then the old lady was not there.” “Now, attend, Mr. Weller, said Serjeant Buzfuz, dipping a large pen into the inkstand before him, for the purpose of frightening Sam with a show of taking down his answer. “You were in the passage, and yet saw nothing of what was oing forward. Have you a pair of eyes, §. Weller?” “Yes, I have a pair of eyes,” replied Sam, “and that's just it. If they wos a pair o' patent double million magnifyin'gas microscopes of hextra power, F.” might be able to see through a flight o' stairs and a deal door; but bein’ only eyes, you see, my wision's limited.” At this answer, which was delivered without the slightest appearance of irritation, and with the most complete simplicity and equanimity of manner, the spectators tittered, the little judge smiled and Serjeant Buzfuz looked particularl foolish. After a short consultation wit Dodson and Fogg, the learned Serjeant again turned towards Sam, and said with a painful effort to conceal his vexation, 4. [. Mr. Weller, I'll ask you a question on another point, if you please.’ “If you please, sir,” rejoined Sam, with the utmost good humor. ** ou remember going "R to Mrs. Bardell's house, one night in November last?” “Oh yes, very well.” “Oh, you do remember that, Mr. Weller,” said Serjeant Buzfuz, recovering his spirits; “I thought we should get at * at last.” “I rayther thought that, too, sir,” replied Sam; and at this the spectators tittered again. “Well; I suppose you went up to have a little talk about this trial—eh, Mr. Weller?” said Serjeant Buzfuz, looking knowingly at the jury. “I went up to pay the rent; but we did et a talkin'" about the trial,” replied 8 IIl.

“Oh you did get a talking about the trial,” said Serjeant Boij. up with the anticipation of some important discovery. “Now what passed about the trial; will you have the goodness to tell us, Mr. Weller?” “With all the pleasure in life, sir,” replied Sam. “Arter a few unimportant obserwations from the two wirtuous females as has been examined here to-day, the ladies gets into a very great state o' admiration at the honorable conduct of Mr. Dodson and Fogg—them two gen’l”men as is settin' near you now.” This, of course, drew general attention to Dodson and Fogg, who looked as virtuous as possible. “The attorneys for the plaintiff,” said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz. “Well! they spoke in high praise of the honorable conduct of Messrs. Dodson & Fogg, the attorneys for the plaintiff, did they?” “Yes,” said Sam, “they said what a wery gen’rous thing it was o' them to have taken up the case on spec, and to charge nothing at all for costs, unless they got 'em out of Mr. Pickwick.” At this very unexpected reply, the spectators tittered again, and Dodson and Fogg, turning very red, leant, over to Serjeant Buzfuz, and in a hurried manner whispered something in his ear. “You are quite right,” said Serjeant Buzfuz aloud, with affected composure. “It's perfectly useless, my lord, attempting to É. any evidence through the impenetrable stupidity of this witness. I will not trouble the court by ini him. any, more questions. Stand down, slr. “Would any other gen’l’man like to ask me anythin’?” inquired Sam, taking up his hat, and looking round most deliberately. “Not I, Mr. Weller, thank you,” said Serjeant Snubbin, laughing. “You may go down, sir,” said Serjeant Buzfuz, waving his hand impatiently. Sam went down accordingly, after doing Messrs. Dodson and Fogg's case as much harm as he conveniently could, and saying just as little respecting Mr. Pickwick as o be, which was precisely the object e had in view all along. ‘I have no objection to admit, my lord,” said Serjeant Snubbin, “it will save the examination of another witness, that Mr. Pickwick has retired from business, and is a gentleman of considerable independent property.” “Very well,” said, Serjeant, Buzfuz, putting in the two letters to be read, ‘then that's my case, my lord.” Serjeant Snubbin then addressed the jury on behalf of the defendant; and a very long and a very emphatic address he delivered, in which he bestowed the highest possible eulogiums on the conduct and character of Mr. Pickwick ; but inasmuch as our readers are far better able to form a correct estimate of that gentleman's merits and deserts, than Sergeant Snubbin could possibly be, we do not feel called upon to enter at any length into the learned gentleman's observations. He attempted to show that the letters which had been exhibited, merely related to Mr. Pickwick’s dinner, or to the preparations for receiving him in his apartments on his return from some country excursion. It is sufficient to add in general terms, that he did the best he could for Mr. Pickwick; and the best, as every body knows, on the infallible authority of the old adage, could do no more. Mr. Justice Stareleigh summed up, in the old established and most approved form. He read as much of his notes to the jury as he could decipher on so short a notice, and made running comments on the evidence as he went along. If Mrs. Bardell were right, it was perfectly clear

that Mr. Pickwick was wrong, and if

they thought the evidence of Mrs. Clupins worthy of credence they would elieve it, and if they didn't, why they wouldn't. If they were satisfied that a breach of promise of marriage had been committed, they would find for the plaintiff with such damages as they thought proper; and if, on the other hand, it appeared to them that no promise of marriage had ever been given, they would find for the defendant with no damages at all. The jury then retired to their private room to talk the matter over, and the judge retired to his private room, to refresh himself with a mutton chop and a glass of sherry. An anxious quarter of an hour elapsed; the jury came back; the judge was fetched in. Mr. Pickwick put on his spectacles, and gazed at the foreman with an agitated countenance and a quickly beating heart.

“Gentlemen,” said the individual in black, “are you all agreed upon your Verdict 7” “We are,” replied the foreman. “Do you find for the plaintiff, gentlemen, or the defendant 7” *For the plaintiff.” “With what damages, gentlemen?” “Seven hundred and fifty pounds.” Mr. Pickwick took off his spectacles, carefully wiped the glasses, folded them into their case, and put them in his pocket; then having drawn on his gloves with great ". and stared at the foreman all the while, he mechanically followed Mr. Perker and the blue bag out of the court. They o in a side room while Perker paid the court fees; and here, Mr. Pickwick was joined by his friends. Here, too, he encountered Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, rubbing their hands with every token of outward satisfaction. “Well, gentlemen,” said Mr. Pickwick. “Well, sir,” said Dodson: for self and partner. “You imagine you'll get your costs, don't you, gentlemen?” said Mr. Pickwick. Fogg said they thought it, rather probable. Dodson smiled, and said they'd try. “You may try, and try, and try again, Messrs. Dodson and Fogg,” said Mr. Pickwick vehemently, “but not one farthing of costs or damages do you ever get from me, if I spend the rest of my existence in a debtor's prison.” “Ha, ha!” laughed Dodson. “You’ll think better of that, before next term, Mr. Pickwick.” “He, he, he l We'll soon see about that, Mr. Pickwick,” grinned Fogg. Speechless with indignation, Mr. Pickwick allowed himself to be led by his solicitor and friends to the door, and there assisted into a hackney-coach, which had been fetched for the purpose, by the ever watchful Sam Weller. Sam had put up the steps, and was preparing to A. upon the box, when he felt himsel ‘. touched on the shoulder; and looking round, his father stood before him. The old gentleman's countenance wore a mournful expression, as he shook his head gravely, and said, in warning accents:

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“BUT surely, my dear sir,” said little Perker, as he stood in Mr. Pickwick's apartment on the morning after the trial: “Surely you don't really mean—really and seriously, now, and irritation apart— that you won't pay these costs and dames * 72 “Not one halfpenny,” said Mr. Pickwick, firmly; “not one halfpenny.” “Hooroar for the principle, as the money-lender said ven he wouldn't renew the bill,” observed Mr. Weller, who was clearing away the breakfast things. “Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick, “ five the goodness to step down stairs.” “Cert'nly, sir,” replied Mr. Weller; and acting on Mr. Pickwick's gentle hint, Sam retired. “No, Perker,” said Mr. Pickwick, with reat seriousness of manner, “my friends ere have endeavored to dissuade me from this determination, but without avail. I shall employ myself as usual, until the opposite party have the power of issuing a legal process of execution against me; and if they are vile enough to avail themselves of it, and to arrest my erson, I shall yield myself up with perect cheerfulness and content of heart. When can they do this?” “They can issue execution, my dear sir, for the amount of the damages and taxed costs, next term,” replied Perker, “just two months hence, my dear sir.” “Very good,” said Mr. Pickwick. “Until that time, my dear fellow, let me hear no more of the matter. And now,” continued Mr. Pickwick, looking round on his friends with a good-humored smile, and a sparkle in the eye which no spectacles could dim or conceal, “the only question is, Where shall we go next?” Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were too much affected by their friend's heroism to offer any reply. Mr. Winkle had not yet sufficiently recovered the recollection of his evidence at the trial, to make any observation on any subject, so Mr. Pickwick paused in vain. “Well,” said that gentleman, “if you leave me to suggest our destination, I say Bath. I think none of us have ever been there.” Nobody had; and as the proposition

was warmly seconded by Perker, who considered it extremely probable that if Mr. Pickwick, saw a little change and gaiety he would be inclined to think better of his determination, and worse of a debtor's prison, it was carried unanimous§ and Sam was at once dispatched to the White Horse Cellar, to take five places by the half-past seven o'clock coach, next morning. CHARLEs DICKENs.


One of the Kings of Scanderoon,
A royal jester,
Had in his train a gross buffoon,
Who used to pester
The Court with tricks inopportune,
Venting on the highest folks his
Scurvy pleasantries and hoaxes.

It needs some sense to play the fool,
Which wholesome rule
Occurred not to our jackanapes,
Who consequently found his freaks
Lead to innumerable scrapes,
And quite as many kicks and tweaks,
Which only seemed to make him faster
Try the patience of his master.

Some sin, at last, beyond all measure,
Incurred the desperate displeasure
Of his serene and raging highness:
Whether he twitched his most revered
And sacred beard,
Or had intruded on the shyness
Of the seraglio, or let fly
An epigram at royalty,
None knows: his sin was an occult one,
But records tell us that the Sultan,
Meaning to terrify the knave, o
Exclaimed, “"Tis time to stop that breath:
Thy doom is sealed, presumptuous slave!
Thou stand'st condemned to certain death:
Silence, base rebell no replying!
But such is my indulgence still,
That, of my own free grace and will,
I leave to thee the mode of dying.”

“Thy royal will be done—'tis just,”
Replied the wretch, and kissed the dust;
“Since, my last moments to assuage,
Your majesty's humane decree
Has deigned to leave the choice to me,
I'll die, so please you, of old age 1"

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