was once in a cage myself," said his chum.

"And what did they take you for?"

"Take me for?--for a 'lark.'"

"Pretty Dickey!"

"Yes, I assure you, it was all 'dickey' with me."

"And did you sing?"

"Didn't I? yes, i' faith I sang pretty small the next morning when they
fined me, and let me out. An idea strikes me Suppose you climb up that
post, and let out this poor bird, ey?"

"Excellent."

"And as you let him off, I'll let off my gun, and we'll see whether I
can't 'bang' him in the race."

No sooner said than done: the post was quickly climbed--the door of the
cage was thrown open, and the poor bird in an attempt at 'death or
liberty,' met with the former.

Bang went the piece, and as soon as the curling smoke was dissipated,
they sought for their prize, but in vain; the piece was discharged so
close to the lark, that it was blown to atoms, and the feathers strewed
the pavement.

"Bolt!" cried the freedom-giving youth, "or we shall have to pay for the
lark."

"Very likely," replied the other, who had just picked up a few feathers,
and a portion of the dissipated 'lark,'--"for look, if here ain't
the--bill, never trust me."

SCENE III.

"You shall have the paper directly, Sir, but really the debates are so
very interesting."

"Oh! pray don't hurry, Sir, it's only the scientific notices I care
about."

What a thrill of pleasure pervades the philanthropic breast on beholding
the rapid march of Intellect! The lamp-lighter, but an insignificant
'link' in the vast chain of society, has now a chance of shining at the
Mechanics', and may probably be the means of illuminating a whole parish.

Literature has become the favourite pursuit of all classes, and the
postman is probably the only man who leaves letters for the vulgar
pursuit of lucre! Even the vanity of servant-maids has undergone a
change--they now study 'Cocker' and neglect their 'figures.'

But the dustman may be said, 'par excellence,' to bear--the bell!

In the retired nook of an obscure coffee-shop may frequently be observed
a pair of these interesting individuals sipping their mocha, newspaper in
hand, as fixed upon a column--as the statue of Napoleon in the Place
Vendome, and watching the progress of the parliamentary bills, with as
much interest as the farmer does the crows in his corn-field!

They talk of 'Peel,' and 'Hume,' and 'Stanley,' and bandy about their
names as familiarly as if they were their particular acquaint