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tedious to one who has no mercantile business. Peters was dimmed with tears. Yes, old man!' I murmured, burg is pleasant, also, but all her magnificence could not faintly, “look now upon your Sophie! Oh, you dealt cause me to forget the town where I had been in the not well with us! garrison twenty-five years before, with Colonel Von “ The Countess stood near me, much embarrassed, Obendorf—and Sophie. I longed to revisit that town, and seemed apprehensive at my strange demeanor. I and to behold once more, if possible, the beloved of my could not collect myself sufficiently to let her know who youth, who, if living, was now, perhaps, a grandmother. I was; grief had overmastered me. How full of vicissitudes is life, thought I.
. You are not well, sir,' said she, and looked anx“ My passport came at length, and I revisited the scene iously toward the door. of my former pleasures and suffering. When my eyes "Oh, perfectly well,' I sighed. Do you not know fell on the dark cupolas with gilded domes, rising from me?' the midst of gardens and fruit-trees, how my heart beat ! “She looked at me more earnestly, then gently shook I thought upon Sophie, and that her grave might be near her head. I then took the breast-pin from my bosom, one of those churches.
knelt before her, and said, 'Sophie, do you remember “I had then no acquaintances in the town. A quarter this bean, which caused our separation five and twenty of a century is a long while! The regiment to which I years ago? I have treasured it faithfully. Sophie, you once belonged, was no longer here. The Colonel had then said it was a Providence. Yes, it was so.” been dead for many years; his daughter, it was said, had “Great Heavens!' she exclaimed in a feeble voice, retired to her estate, not far from Brunn. None could and sinking back upon the sofa, strove to cover her pale tell me if she yet lived.
face, but had not strength to do so. She had recognized “I will go there! I mentally resolved. If she is dead She loved me still. I will visit her grave, take thence a bit of earth, have it “I called for help, and the other ladies came in, not a set in gold, and wear it instead of the bean!
little surprised to find their friend in a swoon, and a “In Brunn I learned, with a mixture of joy and strange officer, in tears, kneeling beside her. But bedread, that she was yet living on her beautiful estate, fore they could bring water and cordials to restore her, five hours' journey from the city, and that she yet bore the Countess had come to herself. She rubbed her eyes the name of the Countess Von Obendorf.
like one in a dream; then burst into a flood of tears, “I went thither. I was directed to a charming and sobbed violently, till uttering my name, she threw country seat-the mansion surrounded by tasteful gar- her arms round my neck, and wept upon my bosom. It dens. I trembled in approaching it, as I had never was a moment in which angels might have wept over done before the enemy.
“I alighted from the carriage. Already I beheld her “I became the guest of the Countess, for we thought as I saw her last, full of heavenly grace and lovelinesss. not of another parting. How much had we to relateDoes she love me still ? thought I, as, with unsteady steps, how truly had we loved! There was none now to I crossed the garden. Under a blooming acacia-tree be- divide us. Sophie gave me her hand in marriage; it fore the door, sat two elderly ladies, with two younger was somewhat late, and yet not too late. Our hearts
But I saw not Sophie. They were reading. were united with youthful ardor. “I begged pardon for disturbing them, for they seem · My story, or rather the story of the bean, is near an ed surprised at my sudden appearance. Whom do you end—but not quite. I must tell you that the daughter seek ?' asked one of the elder ladies.
my Sophie presented me with in due time, was marked "Can I have the honor of paying my respects to the with a mole on the breast, exactly the shape of a bean. Countess Sophie Von Oberndorf ?' I asked.
Strange freak of nature ! But the girl is only so much I am the Countess' - to my utter astonishment, the dearer to me." replied the lady, whom I judged to be at least forty. My head reeled.
Such was the Colonel's story. I heard no more ; all “Will you permit me to sit down ?-I-I-am not seemed to spin around me; there was a rushing, as of well,' I faltered, and scated myself without waiting for waters, in my ears. I only caught, once or twice, in
What a change! Whither was fed the the discourse, the name of Josephine. The Colonel's bright bloom of her beauty? I recollected myself; I carriage was announced. thought of the fatal quarter of a century. It was “ You must not leave us to-night!" said our host. Sophie ; yes—but the faded Sophie.
“Oh, yes !" replied the old man, “it is a lovely night, • With whom have I the honor to speak ?' asked she and we have a fine moon." at length.
My carriage was announced. I rose,
went to the “Ah! even she did not recognize me! I did not Colonel, took him by the hand, and said, “Your name is wish to make a scene before the other ladies, and there- | Von Tarnau ?” He bowed an affirmative. “I beseech fore begged for a moment's private interview. The you," I continued, “ go home with me to-night. You Countess led the way into the house, and into a room on must not return to your own residence. I have somethe left hand. The first object that met my eyes, was a thing of importance to say to you." I spoke so earnestly, large oil painting-a portrait of her father. It was long and trembled so violently, that the old man knew not before I could find words to speak, for my heart was full. what to make of me. He was resolved to leave us. I I stood looking at the Colonel's picture, till my sight was in despair. “Come, then,” I cried, and drawing
him apart a few paces, I showed him the talisman 1 || when the strongest is somewhat enfeebled—the greatest wore in my bosom. “Look! 'tis not merely the sport somewhat lessened, one should not lay a straw on the of nature the sport of destiny. I also wear a bean!" wearied shoulder. Now hear me; it is quite another
The old man opened his eyes in astonishment; he thing with your bean than with mine. Mine was first a examined my treasure, shook his head and said, “With stone of stumbling; then the corner-stone and chief such a talisman you might conjure up my spirit afterpillar of true love; then a world to divide two united death. I will remain and go with you.” He went with hearts, and, at last, the compass, which brought us again the counsellor to dismiss his carriage. On the way he together. Your love is the sport of fantasy. From the took occasion to make sundry inquiries about me. The moment I beheld my Sophie, I lived but for her; it only counsellor was kind enough to say only what was good occurs to you, after a year's absence, to love Josephine. and agreeable of me. I remarked that he was more That you cannot gainsay. You will awake from your cordial in manner to me than before. He handed me a dream when you again see my daughter, and find the glass of punch and said, “ Here's to the beans!" As we creature of your imagination changed into an earthly, drank, my courage and hope returned.
common-place maiden. And, after all-nota bene ! “So-your name is Her Von Walter ?" asked he, Josephine loves you not!" after a while.
“That is hard,” sighed I," but are you certain of it?" Walter, simply.”
“We will go to-day to my house, where you shall “And you were in Vienna a year or so ago ?" judge for yourself. What I know of your Vienna visit,
I was," I answered, and it seemed that a fire perva- I learned from my sister-in-law, not from my daughter, ded my whole frame.
who may hardly remember your name. Still more; we “So, so," he observed. “My sister-in-law told me have a dangerous neighbor; the young Count Von Holten. much of you. You were at the hotel with them. You He visits us often, and Josephine seems to like his society. paid much attention to the good ladies—for which they I have frequently observed her fix her eyes for several shall thank you with their own lips."
minutes together upon him, and if she saw I noticed her The conversation now became general, till the com- || attention, she would crimson to the temples, and turn pany broke up. The Colonel went with me my house. away laughing or humming." I conducted him to the chamber appointed for him. “ If such is the case, my lord Colonel,” said I, after a “ Well!" he said, “I have followed you obediently. long pause, during which I was struggling for composure, What have you of importance to say to me?"
“I will not accompany you. It is better for me not to "I began to tell him of my visit to Vienna~of the see your daughter again.” aunt-of Josephine ; but he interrupted me with—"I “You are wrong. I am anxious for your happiness. know all that! But what the mischief has it all to do You must see her to correct your fancy, and accelerate with the bean you showed me ?"
your recovery to sound reason.” I then began a general confession. He still exclaim After some debate I took my seat in the carriage with ed, "all that I know--but the bean—the bean!" him. To say truth, I began to suspect my fantasy had
I told him of my second journey to Vienna. He played me a trick. I had lived so long alone in my burst into a laugh, and cordially embraced me. “No dreamings—had cherished my ideal so dearly-had inmore! to-morrow we will speak more of the matter. vested the image of Josephine with such wonderful You understand—I have nothing to do with it. What charms—and now, for the first time, when the name of would you have of me? To-morrow you must go with a third person was mentioned in connection with bers, I me to my country seat. There you shall see Josephine; felt that the half of my history had been furnished by there I will present you to my Sophie. One must form my own imagination. So long as a thought or feeling is acquaintances for one's self.”
unexpressed, we know it not. It is words, the integuWe parted; I went to bed—but not to sleep. ment of thought, that give substance and form to the
"Master Walter ! let us understand each other, and idea, separate illusion from reality, and place the soul in have the plump truth !" said Herr Von Tarnau, the a condition to judge of itself. next morning at breakfast. “I know you are a rich It was a lovely morning in June when we set out for man; I see you are a young man, such as ladies do not the Tarnau estate, and, to my surprise, I found myself run away from in affright; I hear you are an honest in a calm and serene frame of mind, such as I had not man, esteemed by every body; I learn now from you, enjoyed for a year past. The relations in which, as a that you are really in love. But all that, sir, does not stranger and a gentleman merely, I had stood to the quite coine up to the mark"
ladies during my stay in Vienna, appeared now so clear “I lack the patent of nobility,” said I, interrupting to me, that I could hardly understand how no longer ago him.
than yesterday—and for weeks and months I had been “No, sir! when the heart and soul bear the impress so feverish on the subject. It vexed me, however, to of Heaven's nobility, that of man's creation is superflu- | discover, after all, that I had not loved Josephine in ous. I was only a common gentleman when the Coun- | Vienna; that I loved her not even now, though I might tess Sophie loved me."
find her very worthy of love. "What then is wanting ?" asked I.
The carriage stopped before a handsome villa; the “I will tell you, now it is morning. In the evening, servants came to receive us. The Colonel led me into when one is oppressed with the burden of the day-1 a parlor, where two old ladies welcomed me in a very
friendly manner. He mentioned my name; then pre- || first salutations were exchanged, the riddle was solved. senting me to the elder lady, said, “ This is my Sophie.” | I told her how I had only yesterday learned her resiI bowed low to the excellent matron, so interesting ondence, and she explained to me how her father had account of the narration I had heard the preceding eve- recently purchased this estate from a distinguished ning. “Ah!" thought I,“what are youth and beauty ?”' || family, and retired from the world to this charming spot.
It seemed that the veteran guessed the meaning of " Ah, aunt! dear aunt !" cried she, while she seized my sigh. He kissed his lady's hand, and said, “ Eh, the good lady's hand and pressert it in both hers, then to friend! when one sees old people, one can hardly per- her heart, glancing at me the while with eyes in which suade himself that they were once young, or that the joy danced—“ did I not tell you so ? Was I not right ?" maiden in her first bloom must come to wrinkles and
The good aunt was silent, but she cast a meaning look
at her niece. The mother looked down, to conceal a " Josephine's aunt recognized me at once; she spoke | certain embarrassment. The father observed the exvery kindly to me, and we seated ourselves at the table, || change of glances; he rose, and coming to me, said in a to breakfast a second time, in compliment to the ladies. loud whisper, “Master Walter! it appears to me you “And where is Josephine ?" said the mother; she
did find the bean in the right place. But you-Josewill be pleased to see her Viennese acquaintance."
phine-what have you done to the Count, that he is “She is with Count Holten in the garden,” replied gone away in such a storm ?" the aunt; “there are auriculas to water, before the sun
The young lady evaded the question. We now adis too high ;” and I shivered a little. All my old fancies journed to the garden. The old gentleman showed me vanished. Yet I quickly recollected myself. I had his buildings, fields, meadows, stables, etc, while the never possessed a claim here; I had none to lose. I ladies were engaged in the pavilion in earnest conversabegan almost to be ashamed of my folly. I assumed a tion. After a tedious half hour, we returned to them. gay and unembarrassed deportment; conversed in the | The Colonel now stepped aside a little, and I was left most sprightly manner, and told the aunt how sadly I | with Josephine. I had determined to be reserved, for I had missed them on my second visit to Vienna.
dreaded the fate of Count Von Holten. We talked of While we talked, a young man entered of noble exte
our acquaintance in Vienna, and of the little occurrences rior. He was pale, and there was something constrained that then took place. and disturbed in his demeanor.
“Ah!" cried Josephine, “if you had but known what “Dear ladies," said he, with forced suavity, “I beg I suffered on your account, when you were forced to permission to take leave of you. I have to go to-day to the capital-I haveI am-I shall, perhaps, be some
leave us so suddenly! Surely, since then-yes-we
have often spoken of you!" time absent. It is a tedious journey." “ The Colonel looked round at him surprised. “What
Now-how could I do otherwise ? now I told her the has happened, Count Holten ?” cried he. “ You look
whole history of my second journey to Vienna-my like one who has committed a murder."
occupying her apartments, and, lastly—not without tre“Nay,” answered the young man with a constrained pidation—of my discovery of the bean-my return home, laugh, “like one on whom a murder has been comunit- and the tale of the preceding evening. I was at length ted." He kissed the ladies' hands, embraced the silent. I ventured not to look up, but made crosses with Colonel, and hastened away without saying another my foot in the sand. Her silence lasted long. At word. The father went after him. The ladies were
length I heard her sob. I looked up; her face was hid bewildered. I learned that the youth was their neigh in her pocket-handkerchief. With trembling voice I bor, Count Holten, who often spent the evening with asked if my sincerity displeased her? She removed the them; that an hour before he had seemed very cheerful, handkerchief from her face, and looked at me with and now was quite unlike himself.
tearful yet smiling eyes. “Is it all true," asked she, “What has disturbed him ?" asked they of the Colo- after a pause. I took the breast-pin containing the nel, when, after some time, he returned. He looked bean, from my neck, and gave it to her, saying, “ Let grave, shook his head, and, at length, smiling on his this convince you." Sophie, replied, “ Ask Josephine."
She took the pin, as if curious to examine its golden “ Has she offended him ?" inquired the aunt.
setting. She wept again. Then leaning on my arm, “As one takes it. It is a long story, but the Count | she laid her head on my should and murmured, "I gave it me in a few words—'I loved, and was not loved believe in a Providence, Walter !" again.'”
I clasped the lovely girl to my bosom, crying"Oh! Here the door opened, and the young lady entered. I could die at this moment !" She seemed surprised at 'Twas she! and far more beautiful than I had known me, and a rustling in the bushes reminded us, just then, her in Vienna-than I had pictured her in my wild of the presence of others. Josephine still held the pin dreams. I rose and went towards her, but my knees with the bean, as we came up to her parents. The tottered; I seemed tied hand and foot; I stammered a Colonel saw it and burst into a laugh. Josephine hid few incoherent words.
her lovely face on her mother's bosom. But what is the Josephine stood blushing by the door, gazing on me use of further talk? You all know that Josephine is as on an apparition, but soon approached the table, now my wife. I have thus acquainted you with the smiling, and recovered from her surprise. After the romance of my history.
BY HENRY F. HARRINGTON.
accustomed occupant of which, had, for his offences, DAVIE Mc'CRACKER'S LOVE ADVENTURE. i been made a denizen of the Egyptian tombs, or when a
new receptacle of the kind had been provided by some grocer, or other appropriator of the contents of hogsheads.
Davie's besetting sin is, and has been, vanity. He Davie Mc'CRACKER is now twenty-three years
has been always more eager to receive a second hand age. He is not actually nou compos, but as he is fully
garment, provided it were not too conspicuously decayed, conscious himself, lacks motive power in his mental com
and had been constructed of showy materials, in requital position. Give him an impetus, and superintend him as
for his little services, than to be possessed of the means you would a machine, and he may be very serviceable ;
to satisfy his hunger, albeit he might have fasted an but of himself, he is nothing. He was born in the city indefinite period. With this brief exposition of his rise of New-York, and never was outside of its limits. Never; and progress, we proceed to describe his apparel and again, until a certain occasion, to be hereafter related, had he known the exstasy of so large a fraction of a dol appearance, on the twenty-fifth of October last, the lar as a two shilling piece. His mother was a washer. unfortunate period on which the dart of love first transwoman of low English origin; of decidedly pugnacious fixed his too susceptible bosom. His head, of which the and bibatory propensities ; which latter imparted a rich unregulated and untrimmed locks were of a dazzling
carrot hue, was surmounted by a strew hat, with a very rubicundity to her visage, and, in common with the former, compelled her, not altogether in consonance with high crown, and very narrow brim, in a strikingly dila
pidated condition. It was truly a her inclinations, to divide her time between the occupa
raw and gusty" tion by which she sought to live, and the amiable and day, giving token that old King Winter entertained no convenient institutions, erected for the especial benefit of Davie was conscious that the material of his castor was
idea of indulging the earth in an interregnum ; and those who indulge a pugilistic bias beyond the particular rather too delicate for the season. Nevertheless, as he enjoyment of those subjected to its sphere of operation, had been, as yet, unable to make an appropriation of a or who libate so freely upon strong potations, that the winter beaver, he consoled himself with the reflection, guardianship of the law
considered to be imperatively that October was not November, and that it was to be a demanded. As she was never united to any one . for richer or for poorer,' in the holy state of matrimony, great deal colder; and that, before a much intenser de
gree of frigidity had supervened, he could probably supDavie knew no object upon which to pour out the foun- ply himself with a more appropriate covering to luis cralain of filial affection welling up within him, which
nium. So the straw hat was set jauntily on. wouldn't be poured out upon his brutal mother; and
His coat was black-of fashionable cut, but much the which progenies in general, when one parent is the
worse for wear. His neck was enveloped in a 'kerchief south pole of the magnet in attraction, may lavish upon
* darkly, deeply, beautifully blue," the holes skilfully the other. Davie had none to love him. He was an concealed, and the ends, which, fortunately, were comoutcast from his very cradle-cradle, do I say !-- from
paratively uninjured, spread out over his bosom, to conhis carpet-rag—for it wus such a covering which invested ceal the fragments of his shirt; for, alas! that garment, his infant anatomy, and seldom, to the years of his ma- fragile when it first came into his possession, had mainturity, did he know the luxury of a bed. His mother, tuined, for some months, uninterrupted intimacy with his who had afforded him a kind of quasi support and pro- back, until it had become indeed but a tissue of frag. tection, died of delirium tremens when he was about ten
ments in every quarter; that would scarcely have borne years of age.
the shock of a removal from his body corporate. His From that period, to the time of the adventure we are
vest was of crimson velvet, in a passably good condition ; about to describe, Davie can hardly be said to have lived; for he had received the exstatic prize from a spendthrift he only existed, and that very precariously—for his de- dandy, in compensation for a chance service. His pendence, as far as food was concerned, was upon the nether integuments were of fine broadcloth, and had meals he might receive in remuneration for little efforts been constructed to display a well-turned limb in the of his genius in the way of getting pails of water, or running of errands ; and for his nocturnal slumbers, the precincts of a ball-room. They cased Davie's bow legs softest cellar-door he could espy, concealed from the in connection with his upper arrangements, and stockings
as tightly as the fitting of any thing that fits exactly, and prying eyes of the watchmen, or the interior of an empty
once white, and slippers once whole, the toute ensemble, hogshead; the attainment of which last was a luxury as he walked, especially as proud of the blue neckindeed. It is true, there were ever a number of these erchief, and the velvet vest, he gave himself soine unambitious tenements for single gentlemen in various tonish airs, was ludicrous in the extreme. quarters, but they were usually appropriated by loafers Thus apparelled, on the morning of the designated of more imposing magnitude, resolution, or strength, twenty-fifth of October, Davie reclined on a cellar-door, than were possessed by Davie; and he dared not resist, on the sunny side of Chatham Street, obtaining the however comfortably he might have bestowed himself, greatest possible degree of bodily comfort, attainable when any one of them gathered up his protruding heels, | under the circumstances of his case; viz: his destitution and dragging him out into the dim starlight or lampol of a lodging and an outer garment. His mind soon fell light, proceeded to occupy his place; so that he could into a philosophic reverie upon matters and things in count on undisturbed repose in one of these cylindrical general, and his own peculiar condition in particular; palaces, only when he exultingly crept into that, the ll and thus he speculated, half aloud:
“Now isn't it too wenemous prowokin', that calcula-" vorst kind, as it vouldn't be reg'lar for vun wot 'as tin' and expectin' to work for a livin', as I be, there suthin' o' the gemman 'bont ’im, to 'sociate vith ; so I aint nobody to come along and set a feller a goin'! I'm 'smiss that, as o' no 'count. Surlin' might be made, all wound up like a church clock, an' on'y vaitin' for p'raps, out o' complainin' o' dogs as 'asn't no collars, some gemman to set the pend'lum a swingin'. There's an' 'asn't paid their tax; but come to think on't, that's anuf on 'em to do it, if they vas on'y a mind to. That no go! coz I 'as a kind of a feelin' ven I sees a dog 'ere's the rub, an' no mistake! John Jacob Astor might comin', even ef 'e's a consider'ble distance off, as makes do it, jest as vell as not, on’y he do't know a feller, and me turn down the nearest street till 'e's got by. There I can't git no interduction to him, coz I knows nobody as is suthin' woracious to me the look of a dog, as I knows 'im. I'd set up a r’apple an' candy.stand at the cant git over, no vay I can fix it! There aint no 'count. corner o' some street, ef any body'd on’y pony up the in', l've 'eard 'em say, for the partic'lar feelin's as difphanix to start vith. But that ered be no go, neither; ferent people 'as on secin' warious creturs. Vun's coz I'as such a mortal likin' for r’apples and candy, that afeard of a 'orse, as kicks up wiolent; another's 'alf I should surtin' remove the deposites afore a ’alf a day's scart to death ven he sees a mad bull. Now my anthipabisness; and that ere'd be a funny go! It wouldn't pay ty is to dogs. It sarti'n' is sing’lar, the vay it vorks!" interest, no 'ow you could fix it! It 'ud be like the men
A placid smile ligkted up Davie's countenance at this as gits up a bank for the good o' the public, an' then decision upon the mystery of human antipathies. The makes their own particklar selves the d’rectors, and ven question whether he would not be half or indeed wholly the commissioners comes to zamine into their apple-cart, paralyzed by fear at the sight of a mod bull or a kicking they find these d’rectors 'as used all the phenix, and horse, I cannot answer; as he made no reference to the left the public to vistle. Vell, it's too bad to be a vastin' point in his soliloquy. Ile continued : the days in this ere kind vay! Ef any body on'y vould “ Vouldn't I like to be 'ired by run o' the rich svells set a feller a goin! I'm lik a ingine aboard a steamboat, as lets their servants vear them great buttons, an' a gold as 'as got the steam up, an' ven the last bell rings, the band round their ’ats ! Vouldn't I strut consider'ble, ef seller as tends it, turns a crank and sets it all a fizzin'! I could cut vun o' them ere figurs! I've 'zamined them Jest so my steam's up, an' I on'y necd to be set a fizzin'! 'ere dresses wery partic'lar, a good many times, an' I I'd take a sitivation rite off to sweep streets, on'y them considers 'ein complete! Hows’ever, I'd be glad o' places iş gin out by the corporation, and that ere makes sarvice o' any shape-coachman, 'ackman, ’ouseman, 'em a mernop'ly; and I does 'bominate mernop'lies so, omnibuster driver—any thing wotsomever; bul—just to that I vont ’ave nothin' to do vith 'em! 'Taint the vay think on't ! --'ere I've been a valkin' the streets all the it vorks as I partic'larly cares for, but it's the principle season, in a straggling sort of a aint goin no veres o' the thing, an' I'll starve afore I ’ave any thing to do kind of a vay, that said, jest as plain as if it was rit in an' wiolate prinoiple-by Solomon !"
great big letters on this ’at, “ This ’ere gemman's to let,' Here Davie, in a considerable state of mental and but nobody haint took me up, an' 'ere's vinter a comin', bodily excitement, brought his clenched fist down on the an' I spect it'll be like all the vinters sence I remember, cellar door with a violent impetus, to give greater effect werry uncomfortable to poor Davie! But I vont set on to his ebullition of virtuous resolve; but, unfortunately, this suller door no longer. Loafin' on suller doors is a his hand struck upon the head of a protuberant nail, kind o' bisness as aint o' no 'count; 'specially sence the which inflicted sufficient injury suddenly to interrupt the sun's got round, so't dont shine on't. It'll never set a current of his feelings, and elicit, a second time, the feller a fizzin' 's long 's he lives! I knows wot I'll do! valiant exclamation—while he rubbed the spot with the I'll promivade down to Fulton Market, and see the good other hand—“Oh, Solomon!" Let it be told to his things as wot other folks 'as to eat, an' p'r’aps I'll git a credit, that he never swore, or used any other qualifying real good smell out o' some cookshop, ven some feller phrase than the above. After a cessation of the pain, he 'appens to come out, an' leaves the door open. I'm continued :
werry 'ungry an' no mistake! I vunder who vants a Wot else is there to think on, as a feller might do ? pail o' vater got? I must git suthin’of a job this mornin', I spect them folks as picks up bits o' paper an' old rags, or else my dinner'll be quits vith my breakfast-nothin' in the gutters, to sell for a 'alf a centa pound, 'as to vork o'neither.” werry stiddy to git a livin'; but then there aint no mer Thus closing his protracted reflections, which might nop'ly in the streets! No, to the everlastin' credit o' have continued, however, an hour longer, but for a sucthis ere great city, it can be said—an’ it is a real bles-, cession of chills running through his frame, which sin', an' no mistake!-the streets o' New-York is as free warned him that active locomotion was essential to the lo men, vimin, chil'ren, four footed creturs, 'ogs, dogs retention of a due quantum of caloric, Davie gently and cats, as is alive or dead, an' all sorts o' rubbish an' dusted those portions of his garments which had come slops, as ever they was ven they wasn't streets-ven in contact with the cellar door, with a white handkerthere vant nothin' o' no 'ouses, on’y trees an' Ingins, chief, that would have miserably served the office of a ven natur was natur, an' no mistake-an' no great city , screen; and returning it to the pocket of his coat, taking hadn't mernop'lized the ground, an' set up shops in this especial care to leave one corner dangling out, in the 'ere place! That ere's a great consid'rashun attendin'' most appoved Broadway style, he started for the desigpickin' up paper an' old rags. But then the creturs nated market. But fortune had destined him to be wot 'as took up that bisness, seems to be loafers o' the engaged in a more exciting occupation than casting