random shot, in sheer sport, to bring down anything it may happen to hit. The joke, often injurious, sometimes fatal to others, is ever so to themselves. It might seem harmless at the moment, but a latent mischief in it explodes unexpectedly.

The friend at whom it was levelled only lost his temper, which might be a very bad one; but the joker, perhaps, has lost his friend. He hurt an acquaintance, or a stranger, but struck down himself beyond the hope of rising. The bystanders judge him, not by the mischief done, but by the mischief meditated, or by the indifference to mischief manifested in the aim. Even in the opinion of those who laughed loudest at the sally, he stands, upon deliberation, condemned. His stone-throwing is the opposite of that which the frogs appealed against; here the sport is for the many, but it is lingering death to the one, the author of the joke. Some of these jokers at their own expense are simply the victims of ill-luck. They playfully start the wrong subject; felony in the presence of the gentleman who forgot to return his friend's snuff-box, borrowed direct from the dining-table; female frailty, in the teeth of a nine-days' deserted husband; or the merits of a particular club to the blushing face of a candidate just blackballed. He finds his innocent remarks resented as insults. His little crackers leap back upon him with the force of bomb-shells. He thinks the thing must be a joke, and explains jestingly; which turns the serious drama to deep tragedy.

The jokers comprise many classes, and the expense is heavy in all. They congregate numerously at Newmarket and Epsom, where the joke of backing the wrong horse, he that is dead lame and yet as right as the mail, is kept up at a bountiful rate. The expense in the long run, that is, in the turn of the race-course,

is sure to fall heaviest upon the best jokers. The knowing ones always know one thing-who is most cruelly taken in.

The civic gamblers are droll fellows too; droll upon the same disinterested principle. They will have their jokes at their own expense; they are so devilish independent. They always like to pay for what they have, if it be only a joke. They never fall so readily and completely into a trap, as when it is one of their own setting.

The swarms who live well without any money at all; who want for nothing in this world of luxury except cash, and to whom, therefore, even that is a superfluity; who dance away their days without once paying the piper; may seem to be joking at other people's expense. It is eventually at their own. As certainly is it the case with criminals who plunder not according to law. If there be anything sure and sacred in our belief, this must be included in it; that no man can rashly or wilfully injure his fellow man, without more deeply injuring himself.

Evasion of the law is held in some cases to be a good joke, as open violation of it is in others; the offenders, at the wind-up of the intricate account, suffer most by the jest. Some laws themselves are but mere jokes ; grave ones it is true; but they are maintained at the law's expense. It is the law that suffers most by them, in public estimation, and practical efficiency; for the ruin inflicted upon individuals is as nothing compared with the great national calamity, the awful contradiction, a wrong done legally!

6. PERSONS WHO "DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO."

THE Helpless constitute a large class of human beings in town and country; but amongst them is a species of mortal who is helpless with an abundance of means at command. It is a feminine class, with a masculine sprinkling; and there is an infallible characteristic by which all who belong to it may be recognised; they never know what to do!

These unhappy persons are constantly rocking about in smooth water. They are perplexed with a choice of enjoyments, or a profusion of business. Their poverty is the embarrassment of riches. You find them in a state of pitiable perplexity; and it turns out that they have a box at Drury Lane and a box at Covent Garden for the same evening. They are at a loss to decide which theatre to go to; they don't know what to do!

Having a perfectly idle morning, they are plunged into a most distressed condition by the difficulty of determining whether it would be best to make a call on the Greens at Greenwich, or the Browns at Blackheath. Suggest to them that they might do both, and they feel dreadfully fatigued at the very thought; suggest that they should do neither, and they declare that they shall die if they are moped up much longer. When they have rejected every hint you have to offer, and no new course can be proposed, they look up appealingly in your face, and in plaintive tones inquire, "What would you advise?"

This "what would you advise?" a question in constant use amongst the Helpless with help at hand, is generally addressed to somebody manifestly incapable of forming an opinion upon the point. But that is of little consequence, as the advice is never followed.

The birthday present which they intended to make is postponed until next year, from the utter impossibility of deciding whether it should be one diamond and three rubies, or one ruby and three diamonds. They insist upon knowing at last what the poor old blind grandfather thinks, who never had a taste for jewellery, and they resolve to be governed by his judgment. He is for three rubies and one diamond.

"And yet," they urge in reply to this final decision, "don't you think now that one ruby and three diamonds- ?"

The point is not settled, and they refer the solution of the difficulty to foolish Betty, with her abominable taste for finery; but when her all-important opinion is obtained, she is told that she is a very bad judge of such matters, and quite in the wrong.

"Why, yes, of course, ma'am, as I said before, you must know best."

But Betty is wrong again, they don't know best. They never were so completely puzzled. It's so extremely provoking. If it were not for a diamond and three rubies, a ruby and three diamonds would be beautiful. They can't tell, it makes them quite miserable, they don't know what to do!

They are for ever paying visits, first to Tweedledum, and next to Tweedledee, in order to collect different opinions; and when they have collected all, they are confirmed in the suspicion they had previously entertained, that it is really very difficult to know what to do.

They would leave town immediately, but for a desire to remain in London, where however they are disinclined to stop, from a great wish to go out of town. And in starting for the country, they would certainly go by railroad, were it not for the charms of the sea, of which however they are not inclined to take advantage, in

consequence of the convenience of the railroad. They have nobody to advise them, and what on earth they shall do they don't know.

And should a little difficulty really rise, should it so happen that it is highly important for them to pay a visit immediately, and as highly important, at the same time, that they write some letters which will cause delay, then, indeed, like the miserable Moor, they are perplexed in the extreme," and cry out, with the bewildered rustic in Fielding's "Fall of Phaeton,"

"The world's at an end! go and call the parson of the parish!"

In such a complex crisis of their affairs, in such an extremity of helplessness, they can neither pay a visit nor write a note. They can but sit down, wring their hands, look inquiringly at the ceiling, and wonder whatever they shall do!

DECEASED PEOPLE WHOM WE MEET DAILY.

AN Irish gentleman of our acquaintance, when his new suit of mourning came home, began to moralize on the uncertainty of life. "Mortality," said he, " is more fleeting than the fashion of a coat. Who can say that his spirit may not cast off its garment of flesh, even before the gloss has departed from his new waistcoat. Alas! I ordered this mourning for my friend, and may yet be destined to wear it for myself!"

We often laugh in the wrong place, and create the bulls we fancy we discover. It was easy to see, by the aid of a minute's reflection, that this was no blunder at all, except in sound. On the surface it is merely a ludicrous absurdity; beneath that lies a world of grave