pot-boy has commenced his rounds with "early beer," and with leathern
lungs, and a sovereign contempt for the enactments of the new police-act
--greasy varlets proclaim to the hungry neighbourhood--"Baked sheeps'
heads, hot!"--O! savoury morsel!--May no legislative measure ever silence
this peripatetic purveyor to the poor! or prevent his calling--may the
tag-rag and bob-tail never reject a sheep's head!

"I never sees a sheep's head, but I thinks on you," said Mrs. Spriggins,
whose physiognomy was as yellow and as wrinkled as a duck's foot.
Spriggins whipped his horse, for they were driving in a one-horse chaise,
with two boys, and an infant in arms--Spriggins whipped his horse
spitefully, for Mrs. S.'s sarcasm inspired him with a splenetic feeling;
and as he durst not chastise her, the animal received the benefit of her
impetus. Spriggins was a fool by nature, and selfish by disposition.
Mrs. S. was a shrivelled shrew, with a "bit o' money;"--that was the bait
at which he, like a hungry gudgeon, had seized, and he was hooked! The
"spousals" had astonished the vulgar--the little nightingale of
Twickenham would have only smiled; for has he not sweetly sung--

"There swims no goose so grey, but soon or late
She finds some honest gander for her mate;"

and her union was a verification of this flowing couplet.

At different times, what different meanings the self-same words obtain.
According to the reading of the new poor-law guardians, "Union," as far
as regards man and wife, is explained "Separation;" or, like a ship when
in distress, the "Union" is reversed! In respect of his union, Spriggins
would have most relished the reading of the former! But there are
paradoxes--a species of verbal puzzle--which, in the course of this ride,
our amiable family of the Spriggins's experienced to their great
discomfort.

Drawing up a turnpike-gate, Mrs. S. handed a ticket to the white-aproned
official of the trust.

"You should have gone home the way you came out--that ticket won't do
here," said the man; "so out with your coppers--three-pence."

"I don't think I've got any half-pence!" said Mr. S., fumbling in his
pennyless pocket.

"Well, then, I must give you change."

"But I'm afraid I hav'nt got any silver," replied Mr. S., with a long
face.--"I say, mister, cou'dn't you trust me?--I'd be wery sure to bring
it to you."

But the man only winked, and, significantly pointing the thumb of his
left hand over his sinist