ripture made dear and difficult to read; presenting Mrs. B.
with the last new art manufacture--"The Knowing Blade, a brazen-faced
sharper, to remove blunt;" and procuring for Mr. B. the skin of the
identical Bengal tiger he killed, as may be seen from a legend running
up the back bone--though an inscription on the tip of the tail states it
to be sold by Fitch of Regent Street. The bait secures its amount of
flat-fish; for that evening, Captain de Camp was more than usually
lucky--he caught enough at _ecarte_ to clear himself;--a freak of
fortune that caused no asperity in the noble breast of Brown; for here
are his own thoughts in his own words:--"December 26_th_, _Wednesday_
(Boxing-day).--My dear friend, De Camp, has this day given us all tokens
of the warmest attachment--sadly wanting to do something for
me--'Colonial,' 'War,' or 'Admiralty.' Not requiring anything just now,
this will form an admirable reserve; I must, in the meantime, profit by
his refined society, as I hope and trust the girls will by his sons'.
If there be any drawback to the delight I feel, it is the non-arrival of
his luggage; for I am personally inconvenienced by his wearing my best
coat. I may be over-scrupulous in wishing he would return the books he
devours with such avidity:--Mrs. B. says, she thinks, the paragon of
knowledge swallows them; for they are not to be found."

Next morning Ichabod enters the Brown suit and service, having spent
Boxing-night and the proceeds of the Christmas-piece at the play, where
he saw "Jane Shore" and "Harlequin House that Jack built;" the plot and
tricks of which he recounted to Master Tommy, as he took that young
gentleman for a walk, inoculating him with a great desire to go and
behold it. So, after having coaxed his mother, teased his father, and
cried his lovely blue eyes into a good imitation of red veined marble,
the youth triumphed; for on Thursday evening, they all went to the play
in the fusty fly from Drone's yard, driven by old Drone, in his
pepper-and-salt suit of pseudo livery, that looked as if he always
brushed it with the currycomb; and so tindery about the breast, from the
number of marriage-favours annually pinned there, that it is a wonder it
holds together. Alphonso rode upon the box, giving the vehicle a certain
amount of smartness. On their arrival under the dirt-embrowned portico
of the theatre, they are cordially recognised by the De Camps; who,
thinking it a pity the box should not b