66 anxiety, awaiting his washerwoman's wellknown knock. It came, and she made her appearance with the wished-for shirt in her hand. "Give me the shirt, quick," cried my hero, extending his hand as he spoke. The washerwoman drew back, and coolly replied, “You owe me eighteen-pence, sir; I am a poor woman, with a large family-I must be paid." "D-n your family," cried the Detrimental, "I have not got a farthing-give me my shirt." "I won't till I have my money," was the virago's reply. The unfortunate Detrimental swore, stormed, and raved, but all was of no avail; he even descended to the most abject supplications, but it was in vain. There she stood with the coveted garment in her hand, while he, like Tantalus of old, "saw, but could not grasp.' At length, driven to despair, he exclaimed, "My good Mrs. Brown, for God's sake give me my shirt. I am going to dine at Mr. Wilkinson's in Belgrave square; I shall be too late-I shall be ruined!" An infernal smile lighted up for E an instant the washerwoman's face, and without saying another word, she departed with her prize, leaving my hero shirtless, and, of course, dinnerless. In the middle of dinner at Mr. Wilkinson's that evening, while the guests were discussing the mysterious non-appearance of my hero, and the pretty Charlotte Singleton was pouting and looking daggers, grievously offended by the absence of her lover, a parcel was brought in by a servant and delivered to the master of the house. He opened it, and to the astonishment of all, out fell a shirt! Snatching up a little dirty scrap of paper which fell from the garment, the host read out the following exquisite morceau for the edification of the company. "Muster Wilkinson, "Sir.-Has Muster Howard,* owes me eighteen-pence, and has only got this one shirt, which I encloses; and has I would not let he have this ere shirt till he paid * The name I choose to give my hero. me, which he said as how he could'nt, I sends you the harticle in question, that you may not be surprised at his not coming to dinner. "Your humbell servant, "MARY BROWN, Washerwoman. "N.B.-Washing done on reasonable terms, and The roar of laughter which succeeded may be guessed. In less than a month after this "untoward event," Charlotte Singleton was married to a fat merchant, and Fitz Walter Howard, Esq., was in the Queen's Bench. I shall conclude this chapter with the following " Moral," deducible from the above story, for the benefit of Younger Sons: "Never swear at your washerwoman, When you have duly digested this lesson, you may read, by way of reward, the following plaintive effusion : Who gobble up mince-pies. Mince-pies! I hate the very name— They're worse to me than pills; Oh! I cannot bear a turkey, Its sight all pleasure chills; For whenever they're in season So too are Christmas Bills! They call it merry Christmas! Oh! the very thought of kisses They call it merry Christmas! While Duns are knocking here. And, though, in some glad circles, They call it merry Chistmas! |