pt,
Which grew above the sacred spot
Where that meek maiden slept.'

* * * * *

WE scarcely know when we have been more amused, than in reading lately a
satirical sketch, entitled '_The House of Mourning: a Farce_.' Squire
HAMPER and his lady, personages rather of the rustic order, who have come
up to London from the family seat in the country, in the progress of
shopping in a street at the west end of the metropolis, stop at a
dry-goods undertakers, with a hatchment, and '_Maison de Deuil_,' or House
of Mourning, by way of a sign over the door. 'Mason de Dool!' exclaims the
Squire, responding to his wife's translation; 'some foreign haberdasher's,
I 'spose.' The lady, however, coaxes him to go in; for although she has
lost no friends, she longs to see the 'improvements in mourning,' which
she can do by 'cheapening a few articles, and buying a penny-worth of
black pins.' The worthy pair enter, take an ebony chair at the counter,
while a clerk in a suit of sables addresses the lady, and in sepulchral
tones inquires if he 'can have the melancholy pleasure of serving her.'
'How deep would you choose to go, Ma'am? Do you wish to be very poignant?
We have a very extensive assortment of family and complimentary mourning.
Here is one, Ma'am, just imported; a widow's silk, watered, as you
perceive, to match the sentiment. It is called the 'Inconsolable,' and is
very much in vogue in Paris for matrimonial bereavements.' 'Looks rather
flimsy, though,' interposes the Squire; 'not likely to last long, eh,
Sir?' 'A little slight, praps,' replies the shopman; 'rather a delicate
texture; but mourning ought not to last forever, Sir.' 'No,' grumbles the
Squire; 'it seldom does, 'specially the violent sorts.' 'As to mourning,
Ma'am,' continues the shopman, addressing the lady, 'there has been a
great deal, a very great deal indeed, this season; and several new fabrics
have been introduced, to meet the demand for fashionable tribulation, and
all in the French style; they of France excel in the _funebre_. Here for
instance is an article for the deeply-afflicted; a black crape, expressly
adapted to the profound style of mourning; makes up very sombre and
interesting. Or, if you prefer to mourn in velvet, here's a very rich one;
real Genoa, and a splendid black; we call it the 'Luxury of Woe.' It's
only eighteen shillings a yard, and a superb quality; fit, in short, for
the handsomest style of domestic c