its resting place in young Pyramus's ear—
young Pyramus, who waited with a smiling
face, like a child who hears the mermaid's
song swelling from the hidden purple depths
of an ocean shell. Then the dull office shone
full of light, and the yellow parchment
became pictured with the forms of fields and
waving trees, for Pyramus had learned where
Thisbe would walk in the sunset of a
summer's evening outside the city walls.

Again, in imagination, the scene changes;
and, from the heights of the romantic and
the poetical, I sink to the depths of the real
and the prosaic. This time the eye of fancy
rests upon old Jolly Bacchus in the Office,
whose face and general appearance give sure
indication of a systematic indulgence in the
dissipation of drink. I see him wandering
into the office long after the regulation hour,
with his face and hands only partially
washed, his shirt dirty, and his clothes
unbrushed, his eye glazed, and his speech thick,
and a general sense of offended dignity,
mingled with a determination to be steady,
regulating every attitude of his body, every
muscle of his face. When he makes his
appearance he is received with affected
cordiality by his fellow-clerks; and the smiles
and winks that are exchanged at his
condition are carefully concealed from his jealous
observation. He takes his seat at his
accustomed desk with some little difficulty; and,
leaning on his elbows, he regards the smiling
faces of the clerks immediately opposite him
with a pursed-up mouth and heavy eyes.
Such an opportunity for sport, of course, it
is not in human nature to throw away; and
the jocular clerk (there is always one in
every office) commences the fun by a
conversation with Jolly Bacchus, calculated
to inflame the mind of that individual against
his employer. Mr. Proviso.

"Mr. P., sir, has been inquiring for you
half-a-dozen times within the last twenty
minutes," remarks the jocular clerk, winking
at the company.

"Wellshir," returns Mr. Jolly Bacchus,
"and whatish—thater to you?"

"O, nothing, sir," replies the jocular clerk,
"nothing to me; but a great deal to our
respected governor, Mr. Proviso."

"That, shir, for Misher Provishe— o,"
returns Jolly Bacchus, with an attempt
to snap his fingers, which produces no sound.

"O, come," replies the jocular clerk,
"while we accept our salaries we must attend
to our duties."

"Shir," exclaims Jolly Bacchus, now working
himself into a state of drunken rage,
"No man shall dictate me. Who's Missher
Provishe—o, Ish like to know? I made
him what—is—taught him, shir, all's law
—and I can pull him down, shir,—pull'm
down."

'' Well, sir," replies the jocular clerk, playing
upon the weakness of the intoxicated
Bacchus, " you'd better tell him so up the
pipe; he's in his room; tell him so up the
tube, like a man!"

It is about twelve o'clock in the day, and
Mr. Proviso is closely closeted with a
most important client, an East Indian Director.
Mr. Proviso is standing behind his
writing-table, with his thumbs stuck in the
arm-holes of his waistcoat, and his fingers
tattooing upon his chest, looking like a prime
minister receiving a deputation. The
important client, a man of severe aspect and
unbending exterior, is seated in the large
easy-chair, which stands near the mouth
of the speaking-tube against the fire-place.
The two men are trying to find their way
out of the middle of a knotty discussion
upon an intricate question of law and business,
when a gurgling sound is heard to issue
from the mouth of the speaking-tube,
followed slowly by this address, the original
thick pronunciation of which is considerably
increased by the peculiar channel of
communication:—

"Misher Provishe—o, shir, I'm not—
going to be dictate—to by you. You're a
hum'ug and an impos'er, shir, an' you
know it. I've more law in my lill'e finger,
shir, than—you have in—— whole body
shir. I'm——

What further abuse from Jolly Bacchus
would have come up the tube no one can
tell; for, upon the first sound of the
familiar voice, Mr. Proviso, keeping his eye
steadily fixed upon the startled East Indian
Director, sidled with admirable coolness
towards the mouth of the unwelcome oracle,
and, continuing with some little incoherence
in his tone, manner, and ideas, to carry on
the important business discussion, as if
nothing had interrupted it, he seized the
stopper of the pipe, and corked up for ever
the intoxicated flow of Jolly Bacchus's
eloquence.

Such are some of the phantoms of
imagination that I conjure up to fill that dreary
pit of mental vacuity, which deepens and
deepens, as I waste the precious mid-day
hours, waiting wearily for the leisure
moments of the great Mr. Proviso.

MR, CHARLES DICKENS
WILL READ AT ST. MARTIN'S HALL:
ON THURSDAY EVENING, MAY 27th, and
ON THURSDAY EVENING, JUNE 3rd, his " Chimes."
Each Reading will commence at Eight exactly, and
will last two hours.
PLACES FOB EACH READING:—Stalls (numbered and
reserved), Five Shillings; Area and Galleries, Half-a-
crown; Unreserved Seats, One Shilling. Tickets to be
had at Messrs. Chapman and Hall's, Publishers, 193,
Piccadilly; and at St. Martin's Hall, Long Acre.