us, to see the old fellow out, and the new one in, with gaiety and glee.

There must have been some few occurrences in the past year to which we
can look back, with a smile of cheerful recollection, if not with a
feeling of heartfelt thankfulness. And we are bound by every rule of
justice and equity to give the New Year credit for being a good one,
until he proves himself unworthy the confidence we repose in him.

This is our view of the matter; and entertaining it, notwithstanding our
respect for the old year, one of the few remaining moments of whose
existence passes away with every word we write, here we are, seated by
our fireside on this last night of the old year, one thousand eight
hundred and thirty-six, penning this article with as jovial a face as if
nothing extraordinary had happened, or was about to happen, to disturb
our good humour.

Hackney-coaches and carriages keep rattling up the street and down the
street in rapid succession, conveying, doubtless, smartly-dressed
coachfuls to crowded parties; loud and repeated double knocks at the
house with green blinds, opposite, announce to the whole neighbourhood
that there's one large party in the street at all events; and we saw
through the window, and through the fog too, till it grew so thick that
we rung for candles, and drew our curtains, pastry-cooks' men with green
boxes on their heads, and rout-furniture-warehouse-carts, with cane seats
and French lamps, hurrying to the numerous houses where an annual
festival is held in honour of the occasion.

We can fancy one of these parties, we think, as well as if we were duly
dress-coated and pumped, and had just been announced at the drawing-room
door.

Take the house with the green blinds for instance. We know it is a
quadrille party, because we saw some men taking up the front drawing-room
carpet while we sat at breakfast this morning, and if further evidence be
required, and we must tell the truth, we just now saw one of the young
ladies 'doing' another of the young ladies' hair, near one of the bedroom
windows, in an unusual style of splendour, which nothing else but a
quadrille party could possibly justify.

The master of the house with the green blinds is in a public office; we
know the fact by the cut of his coat, the tie of his neckcloth, and the
self-satisfaction of his gait--the very green blinds themselves have a
Somerset House air about them.

Hark!--a cab! That's a junior clerk in the same