said Mr. Timmis, "to have both principal and
interest."

Mr. Crobble having lately had a large property left him in Hertfordshire,
rarely came to the office above once a-quarter, to settle accounts.

"A good dividend--a very good dividend!" said he, upon receipt of the
last quarter's profits. "But, Mr. Mullins, I cannot forget that this
business is your child."

"And I'm happy to say a thriving one," I replied.

"Are you satisfied--perfectly satisfied?" demanded he.

"Beyond my wishes, sir."

"I am not," said he shortly.

"No, sir?" exclaimed I, with surprise.

"No, Sir!" repeated he. "Those who sow should reap. I've no
children--I'm an idle fellow-a drone, sir--and won't consent to consume
all the honey. Don't speak, sir--read that!" and he pulled a parchment
from his pocket.

It was a deed of partnership between Cornelius Crobble, of Lodge,
Hertfordshire, Esquire, and the poor cobbler's son,

ANDREW MULLINS.

A RIGMAROLE.--PART I.

"De omnibus rebus."

The evening is calm--the sun has just sunk below the tiles of the house,
which serenely bounds the view from the quiet attic where I wield the
anserine plume for the delectation of the pensive public--all nature,
etc.--the sky is deep blue, tinged with mellowest red, like a learned
lady delicately rouged, and ready for a literary soiree--the sweet-voiced
pot-boy has commenced his rounds with "early beer," and with leathern
lungs, and a sovereign contempt for the enactments of the new police-act
--greasy varlets proclaim to the hungry neighbourhood--"Baked sheeps'
heads, hot!"--O! savoury morsel!--May no legislative measure ever silence
this peripatetic purveyor to the poor! or prevent his calling--may the
tag-rag and bob-tail never reject a sheep's head!

"I never sees a sheep's head, but I thinks on you," said Mrs. Spriggins,
whose physiognomy was as yellow and as wrinkled as a duck's foot.
Spriggins whipped his horse, for they were driving in a one-horse chaise,
with two boys, and an infant in arms--Spriggins whipped his horse
spitefully, for Mrs. S.'s sarcasm inspired him with a splenetic feeling;
and as he durst not chastise her, the animal received the benefit of her
impetus. Spriggins was a fool by nature, and selfish by disposition.
Mrs. S. was a shrivelled shrew, with a "bit o' money;"--that was the bait
at which he, like a hungry gudgeon, had seized, and he was hooked! The
"spousals" had astonished the vulgar--the little nightin