s, Mr. Tag-rag was comfortable for the evening.

"Tabby plays wonderful well, Dolly, don't she?" said Tag-rag, as the
tea-things were being brought in, by way of beginning a conversation,
while he drew his chair nearer to his wife.

"Ah! I'd a deal rather see her reading something serious--for life is
short, Tag, and eternity's long."

"Botheration!--Stuff!--Tut!" exclaimed Tag-rag!

"You may find it out one day, my dear, when, alas! it's too late"--

"I'll tell you what, Dolly," said Tag-rag, angrily, "you're doing a
great deal too much in this line of business--my house is getting like a
Methodist meeting-house. I can't bear it--I can't! What the deuce is
come to you all in these parts, lately?" Mr. Tag-rag, I should apprise
the reader, had been induced, some three years before, to quit the
Church of England and take up with Mr. Dismal Horror; but his zeal had
by no means kept pace with that of his wife.

"Ah, Tag-rag," replied his wife, with a sigh, "I can only pray for
you--I can do no more"----

"Oh!" exclaimed Tag-rag, with an air of desperate disgust, thrusting his
hands into his pockets, and stretching his legs to their utmost extent
under the table. "I'll tell you what, Mrs. T." he added after a while,
"I like religion well enough--but too much of it no one can stand. Too
much of one thing is good for nothing; you may choke a dog with
pudding;--I sha'n't renew my sittings at Mr. Horror's."

"Oh, dear, dear pa, do! That's a love of a pa!" interposed Miss Tag-rag,
twirling round on her music-stool. "All Clapham's running after
him--he's quite the rage! There's the Dugginses, the Pips, the Jones,
the Maggots,--and, really, Mr. Horror does preach such dreadful things,
it's quite delightful to look round and see all the people with their
eyes and mouths wide open--and ours is such a good pew for seeing--and
Mr. Horror is such a bee--yeautiful preacher--isn't he, ma?"

"Yes, love, he is--but I wish I could see you profit by him, and
preparing for death"----

"Why, ma, how _can_ you go on in that ridiculous way? You know I'm not
twenty yet, however old you and pa may be!"

"Well, well! poor Tabby!" here Mrs. Tag-rag's voice faltered--"a day
will come, when"----

"Play me the _Devil among the Tailors_, or _Copenhagen Waltz_, or
something of that sort, Tabby," said her father, furiously, "or I shall
be sick!--I can't bear it! Curse Mr. Hor"----

"Well!--Oh, my!!--I never!--Mr. Tag-rag!" exclaimed his asto