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instamment, in de half second, I recollect to have seen him in Paris, dress in all de silver and de gold lace.-Jontilhomme or noble, I forget vhich, but it vas all de same. I look at him again-ma foi ! he have no lace but de rags, and no silver but de grey hair dat grow out of de great hole in de crown of his hat, like you see de pigeon's claw out of de top of de pie-but he vas a very jonteel man for all dat.

He make de graceful bow to me-Mon Dieu! his knee come out of de pantaloon, and I see his great toe look at me out of de end of his pump-but he vas a very jonteel man for all dat.

I say to him," My contreman, mon ami, no l'argent, no credit, no dinner; vy you leave your logement den? vy you no take de refreshment, de sleep in your bed?"

He say to me, "Ah, mon ami! I have no logement, no bed; I lodge in the open air, vere I pay no rent, and I sleep here; dis bench is my mattrass, and de tree dat hang over my head de curtain, and sometime de sentinal he come and tuck me in vid de buttend of his bayonet; for de Jean Bull no have de politesse to de autrefois jontilhomme at all! but I am a very jonteel man for all dat."

"Sacre bleu! no logement, no bed; pauvre homme, my heart is all melt with de great big pity for you, my friend, my countreman; I shall take you home to my maison, and give you de dinner and de sleep for de night, for though you have no money, no credit, no dinner, no logement--though your hair grow out of de top of de hat, your knee valk out of de pantaloon, and your great toe peep out of de end of your pump -your shoe, I see you are a very jonteel man for all dat. My landlady she is particulaire, she no like de stranger sleep in her domicile, so ve vill vait and get de bon appetite till it is dark-den you sall pull off your shoe, and ve vill steal up de stair, and nobody sall know ve are dere."

So he pay de great compliment, and give me grand thanks; for though his beard vas like de great black shoe-brush stuck on his chin, and had no been shave for one month, he vas very jonteel man for all dat.

Vell, ve valk under de tree, and talk of de grand restaurateur, vere dey have de five hundred dishes for dinner, and de splendid palace of de great monarque à Versailles, till at last it grow to be dark night-den ve steal home to my logement, and I open de door vid de little key vot I have in my pocket; den I rub my shoe on de mat, and I leave de dirt-mon ami, my countreman, he rub his shoc on de mat, and he leave de sole dere-but he vas very jonteel man for all dat. Ve have de littel joke on his lose de sole; den I pull off my shoe and dere is my stocking-mon ami, my countremar, he pull off his shoe, and dere is only his foot, he have no stocking at all-but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.

Vell, ve have de little joke because he no have de stocking, and ve creep up de stair, light as de feather, vidout any body hear; for mon ami, my countreman, pauvre homme, he have no flesh, only de bone, for vant of de something to eat very often-but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.

Vell, ve get into my room, mon apartment, mon chambre à lit; dere I strike de light, make de fire, lay de cloth, and get my dinner from de cupboard. I pull out de large piece of bread, de neck of de mouton dat vas boiled yesterday, and de great dish of soup maigre, dat I make hot; and I say, "Now mon ami, my countreman, ve vill have de dinner." But before I commence I say de grace. Parbleu! my friend he commence, and no say de grace at all-but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.

I got up for de cloth to put under my chin, dat I may no grease my frill vid de soup maigre; begar, ven I came back to help myself, begar, dere is none! mon ami, my countreman, he have swallowed it all up-but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.

Vell, ve have de littel joke about de soup maigre, sure not to grease de frill den, and I go to take some mouton; begar! dere is only de bones-mon ami, my countreman, he have eat up all de meat-but he vas a very jonteel man for all dat.

Vell, ve have de littel joke, and I laugh a littel on

de wrong side of my mouth, about my friend eat all de meat and leave me de bone, and I go to make a shift vid de crust of de bread, but by gar, dere is no bread at all! mon ami, my countreman, be eat all de bread vhile I eat the soup-but he vas very jonteel man for all dat. Ve not have de littel joke dis time, and I content myself vid de cheese-paring and de bit of salt.

At last it come time to go to bed-and I say, " Mon ami, my countreman, ve vill aller coucher, put our heads in de night-cap:" vell, I pull off my coat, dere is my vaistcoat-mon ami, my countreman, pull off his coat, by gar, dere is no vaistcoat at all-but he vas a very jonteel man for all dat.

I pull off my vaistcoat, dere is my shirt; mon ami, my countreman, have no vaistcoat to pull off, and by gar, dere is no shirt at all-but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.

I say,

"Mon ami, my countreman, dere is de old sack dat de gardener bring vid de pomme de terre, you sall make de shift vid dat. Vell, he lay on de potatoe sack for his shirt, and I go to sleep: in de matin I vake and look for mon ami, my countreman, and by gar, he is no dere! I look for my breeches, and by gar, dey are no dere.

Vell, I say I vill put on my vaistcoat and my coat, and see if he is gone down stair. By gar, dey are no dere; nor more is my hat, nor my stocking, nor my shoe, nor any thing; but dare is de chapeau vid de hole in de top, de pantaloon out of de knee, de shoe dat have no sole, and very little body, and de dam greasy, rusty, ragged habit of mon ami, my countre

man.

Vell, I say, he has dress himself in all my tings by mistake; he have no money, no credit, no logement, his hair grow out de top of his hat, his knee valk out of his pantaloon, his toe look out of his pump, his sole come out of his shoe; he eat my supper vhile I turn my head, and no leave me none-he have no vaistcoat, no shirt, -he make a shift and sleep in my potatoe sack-he get up vhile I sleep, and run avay vid all my clothes; it is all bad, ma foi-but he is very jonteel man for all

So I make de fire vid his old clothes, as dey were too bad for de Jew-wrap myself in de blanket, and I think I vill go to my vork again; ven, by gar, Í find all the vatch-les montres-dat vas left by my customers, because dey would not go, had all gone vhile I vas asleep; mon ami, my countryman, had taken them vhile I vas dormi, and I vas ruin, and obliged to run avay-but he vas very jonteel man for all dat.

HENRY IV.'s SOLILOQUY ON SLEEP.
How many thousands of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! O gentle Sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness!

Why, rather, Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case to a common larum-bell?

Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brain
In cradle of the rude imperious surge,

And in the visitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deafening clamour in the slippery shrouds,
That, with the hurly, Death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial Sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
And in the calmest and the stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then, happy lowly clown!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

THE CASE ALTERED.

Hodge held a farm, and smiled content,
While one year paid another's rent:
But if he run the least behind,
Vexation stung his anxious mind;
For not an hour would landlord stay,
But seize the very quarter day;
How cheap soe'er, or scant, the grain,-
Though urged with truth, was urged in vain ;
The same to him if false or true,

For rent must come when rent was due.
Yet that same landlord's cows and steeds
Broke Hodge's fence, and cropt his meads;
In hunting, that same landlord's hounds,
See, how they spread his new-sown grounds!
Dogs, horse, and man, alike o'erjoy'd,
While half the rising crop's destroy'd;
The squire laugh'd loudly while he spoke,
And paid the bumpkin-with a joke.

But luckless still, poor Hodge's fate!
His worship's bull had forced a gate,
And gored his cow-the last and best;
By sickness he had lost the rest.
Hodge felt at heart, resentment strong-
The heart will feel that suffers long.
A thought that instant took his head,
And thus within himself he said:

"If Hodge, for once, don't sting the squire,
"May people post him for a liar."
He said across his shoulder throws
His fork, and to his landlord goes.

"I come, an' please ye, to unfold, "What, soon or late, you must be told; "My bull (a creature tame till now), "My bull has gored your worship's cow. ""Tis known what shifts I make to live, "Perhaps your honour may forgive." "Forgive!" the squire replied, and swore, "Pray cant to me-Forgive!-no more ;

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