scattered here, there, and everywhere, what's to
become of trade? It will go, ma'am. The
British tradesman will go hout, and the British
constitution mark my words, ma'am— will
follow. Where's the pleasantness of life, ma'am,
under such circumstances? Where's the use
of living? Why, ma'am, the very aspect of
the neighbourhood would be different. The
young man would hardly have the heart to drive
his cart at above eight miles an hour; his very
ring at the hairey-bell would be low. The
butcher's boy would take no pains with his 'air.
My young man as comes round for orders—
James, six pounds of Dips for No. 5— my young
man, I say, would cease to have any style about
his dress; and as to such moments as these,
ma'am— of that hinterchange of sentiment
betweenst such as you, ma'am, and such as me—
why, there would be an end of it altogether.
And the ladies— they're to go to market, are
they, and the like of you, ma'am, is to walk
behind them with a basket— a likely story!
And my worthy friend Mr. Chalker's milk ain't
good enough for them, ain't it? Perhaps the
ladies would like to go and milk the cows
themselves, as they don't want to be cheated.
Cheated, indeed! — a nice expression to be made
use of among Christian people. Well, ma'am,
all I've got to say is that before I'll fall into
any of such new-fangled ways I'll sell the business
for what it will fetch, and retire, and I
bless my stars that I've made by honest
industry something to retire on. And here's
wishing you the same, ma'am, and not doubting
but what you have— and eight pounds of Dips,
did you say?— Eight Dips, five packets best
black-lead, a hundred of firewood, and forty
sheets emery-paper— thank you, ma'am, the
order shall be attended to; and I hope, ma'am,
you'll accept this little packet of mixed tea for
your own use, and I think you'll like it, ma'am,
for it isn't what we let  our customers have.
Good morning, ma'am— good morning. Glad
to see you look so well. James, attend to that
there order."

SCRAPS OP SERVIAN STORY.

WILD people as they are, the Servians have
several popular tales which indicate a clear
perception of the distinction between right and
wrong. This we have already shown by an
exposition of the Servian idea of destiny, in which
a moral sense appears in direct antagonism to a
fatalistic theory, and we may add to its
testimony that of the following story, which is
likewise of an allegorical character, and rises
above the ordinary of popular tales:

Once upon a time there lived an old man, who
had three sons and a daughter. When his last
hour was come, he called the sons into his
presence, and ordered them to give their sister to
the first person who asked her for his wife,
whoever he might be, and this duty was put to
the test, when, shortly after their father's death,
an old man came to the house in a two-wheeled
cart, and declared himself a suitor for the
maiden's hand. The two elder brothers were
inclined to refuse a wooer who presented such a
shabby appearance; but the youngest reminded
them of their father's dying injunction, and the
old man was allowed to take away his bride.

The match did not prove a bad one, for when
the eldest brother, after a while, went to visit
his sister, he found her residing in a house
magnificent, beyond description. She assured
him she was perfectly happy and very glad to
see him, and when her husband returned home
he also bade her visitor welcome, and told him
he would entertain him to the best of his power,
but, as a primary condition, insisted that he
should go out with a horse to fetch grass, taking
care only to cut the grass in places that the
horse scraped with his hoof. Promising to
comply with this order, the brother mounted the
horse that had been given him, and soon came
to a silver bridge, the sight of which so awakened
his cupidity, that, alighting from his steed, he
tore away one of the glittering planks, and
thought he had acted with exceeding wisdom
and foresight. Thus richly provided, he cared
little for his brother-in-law's orders, but cut
grass wherever he found it most convenient,
without waiting for the horse to scrape with his hoof.
When he returned, he put the horse in the
stable, laid the grass before him, and walked into
the house, assuring the old gentleman, in answer
to his questions, that he had strictly obeyed his
commands. The host, however, preferred to
use his own eyes, and, entering the stall, saw
that the grass had been left untouched, which
at once showed him the proper selection had not
been made. This fact established, the visitor,
without more ado, was turned out of doors.

When he returned home, the eldest brother
did not give a hint of what had occurred,
but simply told the second that their sister's
husband sent his compliments, and would be
very glad to see him. The brother paid the
visit accordingly, and (as is generally the case
in popular tales) his adventures were similar to
those of his senior. The bridge was despoiled
of another silver plank, the grass was cut in
the wrong place, and the visitor was
unceremoniously ejected. Adopting the same reserve
as his elder brother, he kept these particulars to
himself when he returned home, and merely
recommended the youngest to pay a visit in his
turn.

The third brother began with better auspices.
Instead of letting him go his own way, his sister,
whom he first found alone, contrived to warn
him not to act like his brothers, and though her
husband entered before she could explain her
meaning, enough had been said to make him more
than commonly careful. Ordered by his brother-in-law
to fetch grass, he set out on the same
horse, and when he reached the silver bridge he
was as much shocked by its disfigurement, through
the loss of the two planks, as he was delighted by
its general magnificence. On the middle of the
bridge he stood still, and looking down, perceived
an enormous kettle filled with water, in which