ature had deformed, with
that mind Nature had adorned, to Miss Jemima Brown. There was a time
when his anecdotes had been prized, and his long, delicate, white
fingers kept playing to perpetual dancers; and that fine voice, Nature
had bestowed in lieu of symmetry, sang the merriest and most sentimental
songs for love:--the retrospect is too much for poor Spohf--so he seeks
refuge in his organ, much to the annoyance of a little tailor in the
attic, who has no soul in him--save the sole he had for supper.

[Illustration]

Sunday.--The perpetual bell of St. Stiff the Martyr is calling to
service, as it is wont to do at all times and hours--for mysterious
purposes but little known:--it seems as if the bell disliked its little
wooden cottage, on the unfinished spire; or was inspired, or in a
towering passion to live in a tower, or saw no fun in waiting for funds;
and so, continually pealed an appeal to the public:--however, it was a
puny, little, curious bell, with a tongue of its own, now clacking for a
charity sermon; and, curiously, Mr. Brown thinks a charity sermon always
edifies him with the headache, and is doubtful about going, as they make
him a reluctant giver--for mere vain show; but he, curiously, wonders
where the De Camps go; and, curiously, Victoria and Albert meet at the
gate; and, curiously, the family pue, at St. Stiff's, seems capable of
accommodating them.

Mr. Spohf, the little organist, being perched up aloft, sees, through
the curtain, the Christmas holly and the Captain--taking care to mark
that individual with mental chalk. The musician's eyes are in the Brown
pue; but the eyes that used to meet them are turned another way--all
favour is centred upon their spurious exotic, who grows thicker, twines
tighter, and takes deeper root, the more he is encouraged:--of the
species, or genus, we cannot do better than quote Mr. B.'s own words,
written against December 23rd, _Sunday_--(whilst the Waits, as usual,
were serenading the semi-detached, in a full conviction of its being
Monday, and the possibility of "living and loving together," and "being
happy yet").--"To church with my new tenant, who is delightful company:
Lady Lucre. says he is a 'refined duck,' a 'gentlemanly angel,' and a
'manly poppet:' to which I made answer, that I thought so too; and that
she was a 'seraphine concert.' Sermon, by the Rev. Loyalla a Becket, 'in
aid of funds for supplying the poor, during this inclement but festive
seaso