so help yourself to a glass of Shably. Don't
spare it; it is not to be paid for till my nine
pictures is finished."

I partook, to please him, and to pass things
off.

"Theodore, my good fellow," said he, rousing
himself like an arrow from a bow, "I might
have known as painting would give me the sack,
who never could grind at anything as was
patient since I was a child."

"Sir," said I, "it is vulgar souls as grinds.
Grinding and such as you don't run in
harness."

"And such deuced slow work," he went on,
as if studying to himself, "painting a set of
ugly dolls, who all want to come out as so many
beauties. Theodore, I am sick of the humbug
of fine life."

"Sir," said I, "sickness tends to pass with
the best of us, and bright hours will beam once
more."

"Theodore," said he—-(he knew my name was
Timothy, but never presumed)—-"you have
been at them opera-books again!"

"Sir," said I, "History and Romance, when
clothed by the poets in music's balmy spell, has
ever been my treat."

"So much the better! By George! I will go
in for it."

And judge, sir, of the ecstasy that thrilled
my soul, recollecting that unpleasant couple at
home (the hyena-in-law most particular), at the
proposial as ensued. Fortunes had been made by
entertainments one and all; and why not
another—-and who but he? And would I be his
assistant or lowly partner, and remunerate at a
fourth of the profits?—-to commence in the
provinces.

"Sir," says I, on fire, "what man can do,
short of carrying a board such as stalks down
Regent-street by the baker's dozen when
novelties is to be circulated, will I do to
elicit confidence and enhance the entertainment,
even to the point of valleying you, which I
declined some years ago, in any client short of a
titled object!"

"Take another pull at the Shably, Carroway,
my boy."

And on this he promulgated: while I sat
lapped in a maze of delight to hear the scene he
unfolded. Among other arrows in his bow
Mr. Stratford enumerated Prestigiation. His
tricks with cards was not to be believed in,
even by them as they were eluciated to. And
he boasted his toes was as flexuous as his
fingers at rapping. "We'll have the spirits in,
Theodore," he said.

"Sir," said I, "where you come, spirits must
pervade. If ever there was a 'Life let us
cherish' in flesh and blood, you are that
propitious mortal."

"Bravo, Theodore," said he, drinking freely.
"Then why should not I give Twenty Minutes
from the Poets ? Nothing like variety; and I
can read and roll my eyes, and ogle the old
maids and widows quite as well as some as
spouts in pulpits and out of pulpits."

Then singing there was to be, and ballads
was discussed; with cornet or without. I voted
for Lady Maria's Bird in the Hand (a sweet
lay, as I had often heard ankoryd at my Lord's
while disseminating ices), but he would not
hear of such. Afterwards elastic poseys from
various sources, and in these I was to take a
part; also to draw the bills of the entertainment,
and assume the active and intimate duties
of such. We was to rehearse every day, till
we could meet as perfect strangers before the
public eye. When all was stipulated, I
repaired to my bitter fireside of home, though
my females they both was more caustical than
usual (Mrs. Molesey to the length of wondering
why male scrubs as did nothing save eat
victuals and dress themselves like heroes and
opera-dancers, cumbered the ground of industrial
families).

What with two or three little jobs, such as
fancy Damons, and Bandits calling for no intellect,
I tided over the time while Mr. Stratford
and me was in incumbency of our entertainment.
My wife, too, had sources which she
veiled, and said bonnets was flowing back to
her. So be as she asked for no money, I let
matters flow their course. Them was happy
weeks, allowing for a few checkers.

Which was these: arising from Mr. Stratford's
digressions of spirits over the future
task before us. At first all was life and hope
and merry sayings about the winks and signs
and other confederations we was to concur in
over the tricks; and if so be I was not equal
to the mark at once, he was patience and chaff
personified. "Theodore," he would say, "try
again. We must do more with our wit than
our beauty."

"Yours, sir," I would reply. "Mine has
been only harassing unfortunate to me in the
mainspring of my life."

But, day by day, Argus himself could not have
helped seeing how close Mr. Stratford barred
his doors.

"Not at home, Theodore," to any figure short
of a hundred thousand pounds," he would say;
but the old heart was out of his laugh, which
neither freshened his hand nor steadied his
memory. At which he became all touchiness,
begging excuses the instant afterwards; also,
becoming paler every day, of which I thought
nothing, since life in a horrid close back room, never
going to the window, can have but one issue. One
Friday, when he had been straining his nerves
to fits, a-rehearsing some of them hocus pocus,
and while my poar head was humming round
like a top, with fixed application to the duties
of his postures, which was to believe what my
eyes never see, and ask stupid inquiries tending
to lead others on:—-" Theodore," said he, stopping,
slapping his forehead, with a word as
begins with D, and rhyming to patience's Damb,
"this is no go, unless one has been brought up
to it. Only wretched amiteur work at best."

"Sir," said I, " amiteurs is all in all in many
elegant spheres, and the glass of Fashion will
drown in oblivion all short-goings and indirectness