a fling at other subjects--a dozen books or so--but his graver hours
were given to the study of London. There is hardly a park or square or
street, palace, theatre or tavern that did not yield its secret to
him. Here and there an upstart building, too new for legend, may have
had no gossip for him, but all others John Timbs knew, and the
personages who lived in them. And he knew whether they were of sour
temper, whether they were rich or poor, and if poor, what shifts and
pretenses they practiced. He knew the windows of the town where the
beaux commonly ogled the passing beauties. He knew the chatter of the
theatres and of society. He traced the walls of the old city, and
explored the lanes. Unless I am much mistaken, there is not a fellow
of the _Dunciad_ to whom he has not assigned a house. Nor is any man
of deeper knowledge of the clubs and coffee-houses and taverns. One
would say that he had sat at Will's with Dryden, and that he had gone
to Button's arm in arm with Addison. Did Goldsmith journey to his
tailor for a plum-colored suit, you may be sure that Timbs tagged him
at the elbow. If Sam Johnson sat at the Mitre or Marlowe caroused in
Deptford, Timbs was of the company. There has scarcely been a play
acted in London since the days of Burbage which Timbs did not
chronicle.

But presently I gave up the study of John Timbs. Although I had
accumulated interesting facts about him, and had got so far as to lay
out several amusing paragraphs, still I could not fit them together to
an agreeable result. It was as though I could blow a melodious C upon
a horn, and lower down, after preparation, a dulcet G, but failed to
make a tune of them.

But although my studies so far have been unsuccessful, doubtless I
shall persist. Even now I have several topics in mind that may yet
serve for pleasant papers. If I fail, it will be my comfort that
others far better than myself achieve but a half success. Although the
digamma escapes our salt, somewhere he lurks on the lonely mountains.
And often when our lamps burn late, we fancy that we catch a waving of
his tail and hear him padding across the night. But although we lash
ourselves upon the chase and strain forward in the dark, the timid
beast runs on swifter feet and scampers off.

On a Rainy Morning.

A northeaster blew up last night and this morning we are lashed by
wind and rain. M---- foretold the change yesterday when we rode upon a
'bus top at nightfall. It w