and Jarber began to read with his back
turned on the enemy more decidedly than
ever.

GOING INTO SOCIETY.

AT one period of its reverses, the House
fell into the occupation of a Showman.
He was found registered as its occupier,
on the parish books of the time when he
rented the House, and there was therefore
no need of any clue to his name. But, he
himself was less easy to be found; for, he
had led a wandering life, and settled people
had lost sight of him, and people who plumed
themselves on being respectable were shy of
admitting that they had ever known
anything of him. At last, among the marsh
lands near the river's level, that lie about
Deptford and the neighbouring market-gardens,
a Grizzled Personage in velveteen, with
a face so cut up by varieties of weather that
he looked as if he had been tattoo'd, was
found smoking a pipe at the door of a wooden
house on wheels. The wooden house was laid
up in ordinary for the winter near the mouth
of a muddy creek; and everything near it,
the foggy river, the misty marshes, and the
steaming market-gardens, smoked in
company with the grizzled man. In the midst
of this smoking party, the funnel-chimney of
the wooden house on wheels was not remiss,
but took its pipe with the rest in a
companionable manner.

On being asked if it were he who had once
rented the House to Let, Grizzled Velveteen
looked surprised, and said yes. Then his
name was Magsman? That was it, Toby
Magsman—which lawfully christened Robert;
but called in the line, from a infant, Toby.
There was nothing agin Toby Magsman, he
believed? If there was suspicion of such
mention it!

There was no suspicion of such, he might
rest assured. But, some inquiries were making
about that House, and would he object to say
why he left it?

Not at all; why should he? He left it,
along of a Dwarf.

Along of a Dwarf?

Mr. Magsman repeated, deliberately and
emphatically, Along of a Dwarf.

Might it be compatible with Mr.
Magsman's inclination and convenience, to enter,
as a favour, into a few particulars?

Mr. Magsman entered into the following
particulars.

It was a long time ago, to begin with;—
afore lotteries and a deal more, was done
away with. Mr. Magsman was looking about
for a good pitch, and he see that house, and
he says to himselt, " I'll have you, it you're
to be had. If money'll get you, I'll have
you."

The neighbours cut up rough, and made
complaints; but Mr. Magsman don't know
what they would have had. It was a lovely
thing. First of all, there was the canvass,
representin the picter of the Giant, in
Spanish trunks and a ruff, who was himself
half the heighth of the house, and was run up
with a line and pulley to a pole on the roof,
so that his Ed was coeval with the parapet.
Then, there was the canvass, representin
the picter of the Albina lady, showin her
white air to the Army and Navy in correct
uniform. Then, there was the canvass,
representin the picter of the Wild Indian a
scalpin a member of some foreign nation.
Then, there was the canvass, representin the
picter of a child of a British Planter, seized
by two Boa Constrictors—not that we never
had no child, nor no Constrictors neither.
Similiarly, there was the canvass, representin
the picter of the Wild Ass of the Prairies—
not that we never had no wild asses, nor
wouldn't have had 'em at a gift. Last, there
was the canvass, representin the picter of
the Dwarf, and like him too (considerin),
with George the Fourth in such a state of
astonishment at him as His Majesty couldn't
with his utmost politeness and stoutness
express. The front of the House was so
covered with canvasses, that there wasn't a
spark of daylight ever visible on that side.
"MAGSMAN'S AMUSEMENTS," fifteen foot long
by two foot high, ran over the front door
and parlor winders. The passage was a
Arbour of green baize and gardenstuff. A
barrel-organ performed there unceasing. And
as to respectability,—if threepence ain't
respectable, what is?

But, the Dwarf is the principal article at
present, and he was worth the money. He
was wrote up as MAJOR TPSCHOFFKI, OF THE
IMPERIAL BULGRADERIAN BRIGADE. Nobody
couldn't pronounce the name, and it never
was intended anybody should. The public
always turned it, as a regular rule, into
Chopski. In the line he was called Chops;
partly on that account, and partly because
his real name, if he ever had any real name
(which was very dubious), was Stakes.

He was a un-common small man, he really
was. Certainly, not so small as he was made
out to be, but where is your Dwarf as is?
He was a most uncommon small man with a
most uncommon large Ed; and what he had
inside that Ed, nobody never knowed but
himself: even supposin himself to have ever
took stock of it, which it would have been a
stiff job for even him to do.

The kindest little man as never growed!
Spirited, but not proud. When he travelled
with the Spotted Baby—though he knowed
himself to be a nat'ral Dwarf, and knowed
the Baby's spots to be put upon him
artificial, he nursed that Baby like a mother.
You never heerd him give a ill-name to a
Giant. He did allow himself to break out
into strong language respectin the Fat Lady
from Norfolk; but that was an affair of the
'art; and when a man's 'art has been trifled
with by a lady, and the preference giv to a
Indian, he ain't master of his actions.