trade, and we may open shop immediately. Here he is, as grave as a judge, already, I declare.

(Enter Tristram.)

Tri. The law!-By the law, how many men reach the highest preferment !

Sne. That they do the gallows, for instance.

Tri. Yes; I will study the law.

Sne. Ah, sir, you must go through a great many trials, then.

Tri. I am convinced that I possess great powers of oratory; I'll prove it to you, Sneer. Now, you fancy yourself a judge.

Sne. No I don't, indeed, sir.

Tri. I mean that you are to personate a judge: to act the part of a judge.

Sne.

I am afraid I shall do it very badly.

Tri. I will try you.

Sne. No; if I am to be the judge, I must try you. (Goes to the back of the stage, and brings forward an arm chair.)

--

Tri. Silence in the court.-Now you are a judge-I am a barrister, going to plead before you. These (pointing to the audience) are the gentlemen of the jury. That wig block, opposite, is my opponent. (Puts on his gown and wig.)

Sne. Stop, sir, one moment, if you please. If I am to be a judge, I must have a wig, too; for what's a judge without a wig? (Fetching a white handkerchief from the table.) He's a soldier without arms, a baker without an oven, or an apothecary without a cane.! Now if you can fancy me a judge, you can fancy this my wig. (Throwing the handkerchief over his head, and sitting down in a chair.) Now, let the cause proceed.

Tri. My lord, my lord, the cause to which I have the honor, of claiming your lordship's attention, is a cause which most materially interests all orders of society, inasmuch as it is the cause of violent heats, perpetual broils, and smokings and roastings without number. The cause of all these, my lord, is coals, as I will take upon myself, by many witnesses of unquestionable veracity, to prove to your lordship's entire satisfaction. Coals, my lord, are brought all the way from New Castle, for the purpose of increasing the domestic comforts of the inhabitants of this great city, and parts adjacent. But, my lord, I believe no man will be found bold enough to stand up in your lordship's presence, and declare that it is conducive to the comforts of an inhabitant of this great city, or any of the parts adjacent, as afore

said, that the cinders, ashes, refuse, or dust, to which these coals are burnt, should be thrown into their eyes, to deprive them of one of the choicest faculties of their nature. No, my lord; better far that these coals were left in the pits from whence they are dug better that the hands which dig them should drop off -better that the ships which bring them should founder-better that the wagons on which they are drawn should be burntbetter that the fires which consume them should be quenched, than an inhabitant of this great city should have his eyes put out by ashes, and, ah! ignoble thought! his mouth made into a dust hole.

Sne. Very fine, indeed, sir. Making a dust hole of a man's mouth, is as fine an idea as ever came into a man's head. Tri. Then you allow that I am qualified for the law? Sne. Qualified! I should have thought you had been at it your life. Why, sir, that speech convinces me that you are able to confound all the judges and jurors that ever sat in Westminster Hall. You see, sir, your opponent here (pointing to the wig block) has not a word to say for himself.

all

Tri. Oh! blessed moment when the dustman almost blind. ed me: 'tis to that circumstance I owe the discovery of my tal. ents for the bar.

Sne. Ay, sir! At the bar you must look to have dust thrown in your eyes sometimes.

Tri. Yes, I am determined no power on earth shall make me change my mind.

Sne. So you have often said before.

Tri. Never so firmly as I do now. I am now most abso. lutely resolved. How do I look in this dress, Sneer?

Sne. But queerish, I think, sir.

Tri. That's awkward, particularly as I am to be a lover.— Fetch the looking-glass. (Sneer brings the glass.) I wish it was the custom to plead in the old Roman toga. These trappings are rather ridiculous. (Looks in the glass.) Oh, hang it, I may gain a suit in Westminster Hall, but I shall never gain a suit with the fair.

Sne. No; you must give that suit over, if you are to be suited so. (Takes the looking-glass to the table.)

Tri. Give it over! rather let Westminster Hall be in flames, or inundated again.-What do you think of the stage, Sneer? Sne. Admirable! Your person and features must strike. In Romeo.

Tri.
Sne.

Excellent!

Tri. Take the gown and wig.

(Throws them off.) Sne. (Puts them on fantastically.) Brief, let me be. Tri. Now, my good fellow, do stand up for Juliet.) Sne. I'm well dressed for the part!

Tri. Here, take this stool, and get upon it. (Sneer gets upon the stool.) "See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.-Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might taste that cheek. -Ah! she speaks-yet she says nothing."

Sne, Not a syllable. Come, I wish you would make haste and get in at the window, for I can't hold out any longer.

Tri. Come down, then, and I'll try a soliloquy. (Sneer descends from the stool, and puts down the gown and wig.) "I do remember an apothecary"

Sne. Oh, hang him, so do I; he blistered and bled me till he made me as thin as a broomstick. I have reason to remember him.

Tri. An apothecary-physic.-How do you like physic, Sneer?

Sne. Not at all, sir. The sight of a phial, pill-box, or gallipot, is enough to throw me into a fever at any time.

Tri. And yet, if you had at this moment a most horrible colic, and I were a physician, and were to come to you, thus, and, after feeling your pulse and shaking my head, were to tell you that you had not half an hour to live, what would you say then? Sne. Why, if I had the colic, I should make no scruple of calling out for a dram.

Tri. Imagine yourself this moment at death's door. I am a physician-I am sent for in haste-I arrive-I judge of your symptoms-I bleed you. Pull off your coat, and let me bleed you. (Takes Sneer's hand.)

Sne. No, sir; we may as well fancy it, if you please.

Tri. Well, I bleed you-you mend from that moment-in a few days, you recover-you look on me with gratitude—you are a nobleman, or a minister of state-you patronize methe whole town follows me--I have so much business I can't get through it-I have scarcely time to eat my meals, or take my needful rest. Egad! that would be very uncomfortable, though.

Sne. Oh, very, sir. Only think-just as you are sitting down to a fine dinner, with a keen appetite, Alderman Goblewell is taken with a fit of the gout in the stomach, and must be cured before you eat a morsel.

Tri. Oh, I could never bear it; "throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it !" One might just as well go for a soldier. Sne. Ay, and live on gunpowder.

Tri. A soldier! a general! Alexander the Great, Hannibal, Pompey, Julius Cæsar, Wolfe, Abercrombie, Wellington! These are great rames-they cut a figure in the page of history. I'll emulate their great example:-glory, renown, honor, everlasting fame; a warlike fury fills my breast, and the rage of ten thousand lions swells my bold heart. (Pulls off his coat, and snatches a sword.) Ha! ha! (Flourishing his sword.)

Sne. Mercy on me! would I were out of his way. (Aside.) Tri. Give me my volunteer coat and hat.

Sne. Here, sir. (Fearfully, and assisting to put them on.) Tri. Now, sir, you are an enemy in the field of battle. Sne. Who, I, sir? No, sir, not I; you know I'm on your side.

Tri. Rascal! do you contradict me? Say you are an ene my, or I'll cleave you from the crown of your head to the sole your foot. (Attacks him.) Sne. O murder! murder! murder!

of

shaving tackle.)

(Enter Barber, with

(Attacks the Barber.)

Tri. Ha! what, another of the enemy! Barber. No, sir; no enemy, sir-I'm only a poor barber, sir, come to shave your honor's head.

Tri. A barber-vile caitiff! my sword thirsts for nobler blood than thine. (Cuts the wig-block to pieces.) Any more of ye, come on. (Enter Old Fickle and Briefwit.) Ha! more of the enemy! I'm surrounded; but I'd cut my way through them, if there were a million: come on, dastards. (Attacks Old Fickle and Briefwit.-The Barber runs off.) Old F. What! is he mad?

Bri. Non compos mentis.

Sne. As mad as a Bedlamite, sir. (During this time, Tristram keeps attacking Briefwit, Old Fickle, and Sneer.)

Tri. I am defeated, routed, overthrown, and forced to quit the field; and now I will do as many a great general has done before me-retreat. (Exit.)

Old F. Oh, Tristram! Tristram !

Bri. Studious-non constat.

Old F. Ah!

Bri. Quiet-a false return.

Old F. Oh dear!

Bri. Steady-error in judgment.

Old F. Oh, what, you can open your mouth now! (Exit.) Bri. Nonsuited--good-move the action out of court.

Sne. This poor fellow (the wig-block) is the greatest sufferer; he has had a terrible thwack on the head, in this affray, though, to my certain knowledge, he never opened his mouth either on one side or the other. (Exit.)

Bri. (Making memorandums.) Assault and battery, sword in hand-Vi et armis, bodily fear-(Looks at his watch)-four o'clock, P. M.-Good. (Exit.)

XIV FROM EDUCATION.-Morton.

DAMPER-TEMPLETON-MRS. TEMPLETON-SERVANT.

(Enter Mr. Damper and Servant.)

Damper. Is Mr. Templeton within?
Servant. I'll thank you for your name, sir.

Damp. Mr. Damper.

Serv. He is not, sir.

Damp. Pogh, pogh! I'm his intimate friend.

Serv. O no, sir, there you'll pardon me. I keep a most accurate list of my master's friends. (Showing a list.)

Damp. Indeed! a convenient sort of reference; for, to know friends, as times go, is no very easy matter. Hark you, fellow, tell your master that Mr. Damper, from Lombard street, a stranger to his present fashionable nomenclature, but one who formerly was in his books, insists on seeing him instantly.

Serv. Sir, I shall give in your name; but making speeches is not in my department.

Damp. Indeed! then I presume you are what is called a figure footman, and hired by measure(Servant bows)—six feet of more accomplished assurance, I never looked up to.

Serv. You are pleased to flatter.

Damp. But if the distance across your shoulders was not included in the estimate, here is a measure, (showing his cane,) which will in one moment ascertain it, unless you exactly obey my orders. (Exit Servant.) Bad memories indeed, when friends cannot be remembered without a book. When in Lon. don and in active life, he was above these modern fopperies. But a young, gay wife, sadly alters your middle-aged gentlemen.