like to whistle it, if he could recollect it. He has been blowing, and has remained in that puckered state ever since I first knew him, but not a note has he emitted yet.

I see members of firms with which our firm is on indifferent terms, and wouldn't do one of them a favor to save them from failure. How they scowl when they meet me. And I dare say they predict for me some bad and money less end, just as Tarleton performs the same thankless office for the young men in their employ.

And we young men have immensely the advantage of our employees; for while they are almost at swords' points, and haven't spoken to each other pleasantly for years, we, the retainers and understrappers of the several establishments, are on the best of terms, and discuss the affairs of the heads of the concerns, in their relations to each other, with more liberality and freedom of speech than they themselves would be likely to sub

scribe to.

My dinner I of course take down town, but I would rather eat that ineal than speak of it; and it is while so engaged that we young fellows discuss and tear to pieces the characters of our rulers. How the ears of Gimp, Tulle & Co. must burn at that time; and how rapidly Double Zephyr, the worsted merchant, would change color if he could hear us.

At tea time I turn my face homewards again. But if business is heavy I am detained later, and have to drink my tea alone, unless Scribbner comes in late and keeps me company.

This, then, is my daily life. It isn't very exciting, I think, nor liable to inflame a fellow's imagination, and make him dreamy and romantic. I sit on my dilapidated stool all day, balancing accounts, making out bills, looking over invoices, receiving and making payments, &c., now and then taking a look out of my window-which does not look into Broadway-to see what is going on. But it is better than folding and unfolding and measuring off silks and gingham's; and I consider myself a higher order of being than those poor salesmen, the only object of whose existence it is to make a quick bargain, and whose highest ambition it is to be able to purchase an embroidered vest with gilt buttons, and to have a bowing acquaintance with some young lady of a striking and fashionable exterior.

I am their superior in another respect, viz., in the size of my salary: for as an equivalent for the punctual performance of the duties above enumerated, I receive

the sum of $900 per annum, payable quarterly, not in advance, together with a small percentage upon the profits over and above a certain amount.

As I haven't much leisure time, the allowance is amply sufficient; and if I were so inclined, I might wear velvet vests and bright buttons every day in the year, and crow over my less fortunate companions; but my tastes do not run that way.

My duties, though confining me within doors much of the time, are not heavy nor irksome, and are lightened, to some extent, by the presence of my fellowlaborers. In consequence of that, and my easy and contented disposition, I am satisfied with, and really enjoy, my position.

Among the salesmen and clerks who ornament and adorn the establishment by the beauty and correct taste displayed in their attire, the easy and assured grace of their manners, the smoothness and softness of their voices, their deferential politeness to ladies, and their peculiar treatment of gentlemen who wish to make a purchase; there is one individual who always attracts my attention, and whom I always look up to with a respectful wonder and admiration, as one who has been selected by a higher power for the display of one of the most remarkable and astonishing of the miraculous and unfathomable phenomena of nature. The young man in question is a German, and is very little older than I. When he first made his appearance in his present capacity, his hair, beard, and moustache were all of a beautiful blonde color. Now their color is a deep and most glorious brown, and, in the shade, black. The change has been gradual and imperceptible. Can it

be the effect of age? And has the hand of Time laid on that tint? The change must have been made at night, and in the dark the old gentleman with the forelock might very easily mistake his colors.

The number of these assistants amounts to a dozen or so; and in bad weather, when business is dull, they congregate in groups to talk over their last ball-who were their partners-how they looked and were dressed, and what they themselves had on-and perhaps make proposals for the loan of some little articles of jewelry for the next dance.

They sometimes, towards dark on a stormy day, get very confidential as they gather round the register; and they relate, in low voices, for each other's benefit, and excitement to greater stories, some of their past experiences-their amours-and perhaps read fragments of a note from some anonymous fair one who admires

them, and makes an appointment in some retired street.

But Sunday! Sunday, the whole holiday, is the day to which they look back with pleasure mingled with the fondest regrets, and whose approach they wait for with ill-restrained impatience and the most enthusiastic anticipations.

And they tell each other of the drive they took out to High Bridge last Sunday, and hint, in a tantalizing manner, at the beauty and agreeableness of their companion; or how they visited Hoboken with Mary, and what she gave them for a love token.

99 66

Or perhaps two of them spent the day in each other's company. And eagerly, and with many interruptions from each other, they tell of their drive on the Bloomingdale Road, and how their journey was marked, not by the mile-stones they passed, but by the drinking houses they did not pass; and they dispute which drank more than the other. And the glasses of "cobblers," "juleps," "smashes," "punches." &c., are added, and added with frightful recklessness, until I begin to think their heads may be stronger than I had suspected they were, if they can bear so much stimulation. Though I will say and perhaps it may account for the phenomena-that the landlords of the houses referred to have a tender regard for the safety of their young patrons, since they would like much to have them come again, and very considerately make but little use of their strong liquors. So that the beverages above mentioned usually contain a large proportion of sugar and water, with a generous supply of nutmeg and lemon-juice, and are therefore comparatively innocent and innocuous.

Mr. Squab's family is a small one, I have already said, and consists of the small boy, Tommy, who is perhaps eight or ten years old, and is sharp and wily enough for double that number of years; and of Tommy's "darling little baby" sister, who is just beginning to walk alone.

But what shall I say of the baby? I shall never do it justice in the world, and I will not attempt, therefore, an account of its beauties and virtues. And how it will sleep all day as good as a kittenhow it will lisp "Papa,' ""Mamma," and "Tuder "-how it toddles about, tumbling over on its nose, up and down stairs, and against the sharp corners of furnitureand how it is the best of company for its "poor old mother, the blessed little sweetin'." I will not attempt to describe, but will leave all these to be imagined by the superior experience of those who have

babies themselves-babies who do these very same things, but with an archness, a grace, and a cunningness which throws all other babies into the shade.

But, if I can say nothing of the good qualities of this prodigy, since I know but few of them, I do know something of its bad points, and will enlarge upon one of them, and that is, its objection to being left alone and in the dark at night.

Susy, for that is her name-though she is oftener called "Sis" or "Totty "Susy, as the shades of the night and those of the windows begin to fall, is sung to sleep with much trouble and considerable noise; for she is rocked backwards and forwards in a chair with a vigor which threatens to send the front legs of it through the floor, and places the little innocent's neck in imminent danger of dislocation. She is sung to sleep.

And the performance of that duty exhausts all the melodies with which Mrs. Squab or her Irish servant have enough acquaintance to give utterance to, however imperfectly. They reach the end of their list full soon, for Mrs. Squab is not

an

"American Songster," with its 1000 songs, and Bridget has depended upon itinerant hand-organs for the education of her ear. At last Susy sleeps, but not the sleep that knows no waking.

For such is the provoking disposition of this unpleasant infant, that when both those females have exhausted their répertoire, and dare to begin again or sing a song a second time-such is the humor of the darling Susy, that if they attempt any such infringement of her right to perpetual novelty, that, apparently from the deepest slumber, the little dear will suddenly arouse herself with a shout, and admonish her unhappy attendant and sooth (not sayer) -singer, that she has heard that strain before, and will thank her not to repeat it over and over again, like a "demned old grinding organ." Having given vent in expressive pantomime to this severe and stinging rebuke, she will quietly compose herself to be sung to sleep again.

When, at last, Katy Darling, Oh! Susannah, &c., have produced their somnolent effect again, the little cherub is carefully carried up stairs and laid in its crib; and the mother, or Bridget, the maid of all work, trip lightly down stairs, breathing as they go at least Mrs. Squab does-a prayer of thanks for their deliverance, which, alas! is interrupted before it has reached the top, or they the first flight of stairs, by the screams of the sleeper awakened.

This little peculiarity of disposition is carefully concealed from those admirers of Susy, who, seeing her in the day time, unanimously pronounce her a darling and a little dear.

Scribbner, who is closely connected with one of the most respectable and widest circulated evening journals of the city, seldom makes his appearance at tea time, but takes that refreshment down town, or after he gets home from the office, where he is very often detained. Besides, in his capacity, he is often obliged to be out late at theatrical or other entertainments, and it wouldn't pay for him to make the long journey, up and back, merely for tea; so we never wait for him.

After tea I usually retire to my room, for I seldom spend the evening out, unless we make up a party and go to the theatre. After tea in my own room I smoke a pipe or two, and read until I go to bed. Sometimes Docket, and Scribbner, if he is at home, come in to smoke and talk with me, or I visit them in their room which they have in common.

And there, for their acquaintance is large and disposed to visit them, there I often meet entertaining and improving company. Men who talk of something besides horses, balls, girls, and themselves. I hear important and interesting subjects discussed, and questions of morals and law debated by men who have studied them. By lawyers, writers and others, all thinkers, graduates of colleges, and men liberally educated. By men who, young perhaps, are also earnest and enthusiastic in their favorite or chosen pursuit.

I hear men analyzed, their minds gauged, their force computed and their principles, opinions and secret motives brought to light and taken account of.

Of course I am not fitted by education or position to take a part in these learned debates, but I listen, sometimes putting in a word, and am instructed and improved by the thoughts suggested to me. And at some future time I will astonish my less fortunate friends, by advancing an opinion and displaying a wisdom they can neither understand nor appreciate.

So they sit with their cigars or pipes, and talk upon scientific, literary or political subjects, while I listen, resolving to remember every word they say, and for the future to pay some attention to those subjects myself. And as the evening passes away we have for refreshment a few oysters, a tumbler of ale or a glass of Docket's, superior sherry; and after another smoke, separate, mutually pleased with rach other.

On a former one of these occasions, I was introduced by Scribbner to an acquaintance of his, who, I think, must have been favorably impressed by my appearance and conversation. I told him, among other things, that I had met him before, riding, and thought he sat and managed a horse uncommonly well.

But I think he was pleased with me. for some reason or other, for shortly after Scribbner brought me a note from his mother, Mrs. Spindle, containing a request that I would confer upon her the pleasure of my company, to witness some private theatricals at her house. . Time 8 punctually.

I receive the invitation on Tuesday, the entertainment is advertised for Wednesday of the next week, and from that day until I finally make up my mind, my doubts and indecision whether to go or not are agonizing beyond description.

I

I have been into very little company; know that Scribbner has friends and moves in a sphere much above me; that he has effected an entrance into very good if not the very best society; and I doubt the propriety, and fear the result, of my being lifted so suddenly out of and above my proper and accustomed station, especially, when I remember the splendor and magnificence of Mr. Augustus Spindle's attire, and the beauty and probable cost of the animal he so gracefully bestrode that day when first we met.

But Scribbner assures me that the family is "nothing," merely well off; and Docket kindly offers to take me under his protection, though friendship prompts him to say, with how much truth the result will show, that I need no supervision, and can deport myself as well as any one. These remarks, part of them so flattering, soothe me, and I resolve to go.

"Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish," I resolve to go.

The eventful Wednesday at last arrives, I leave the store early, meaning to dress before tea, and am laughed at by my two friends for my pains. "You needn't be afraid of being late," Docket says, "they won't think of beginning before Scribbner makes his appearance."

At the tea table I alarm Mrs. Squab by refusing to eat or drink, and as soon as the others have satisfied their appetites, I rush up to my room to adorn myself.

I array myself in a suit of plain black "without any ornaments," and am ready almost before Scribbner has finished his paper, and he won't dress until he has done so. When he and Docket have completed their toilettes, I go into their room

to be passed in review and commented upon. Scribbner ties my cravat in a most magnificent bow, wants me to turn down my collar, says that my boots will never do in the world, and forces me into a pair of his varnished shoes which pinch my feet infernally, but Docket's are as much too long; and Docket, who is more useful than ornamental, takes a tuck in my shirtsleeves. At last they both pronounce me ready, and we start.

On the way Scribbner coolly proposes a smoke, and he and Docket follow the suggestion. But I am nervous enough already without resorting to any stimulants, and decline, thinking, that since I am going among strangers I can't be too careful in what state I make my first appearance. We reach the house. The door flies open as we reach the top of the steps. We are met by a "cullered pusson," who says "two pair stairs if you please," and is possessed of an ease of manner and polish of address and deportment, which puts me to the blush, and excites my deepest admiration and envy.

We mount the stairs and enter the gentlemen's room. And here I discover that I have no white kids. Alas! what shall I do? Docket comes to my rescue, saying that he won't put his on, and that I may have one of them to hold in my hand.

I know none of the gentlemen, of whom there are a few in the room, and I only try to make the acquaintance of one. This gentleman is vainly endeavoring to catch a view of the back of his head, in the only glass unoccupied, for the purpose of finding out whether his "back part " is in the middle and strikes an exact perpendicular with the collar of his coat. I am sure he can never effect his object with only one glass, and after witnessing for some time his fearful contortions, politely offer my assistance.

Does he decline my offer with civil, or accept it with grateful acknowledgments? He does neither the one nor the other. With his handkerchief thrown over his shoulders, and an enormous hair-brush in each hand, he seems petrified. After staring at me steadily for a few minutes, he coolly turns on his heel, and for the next ten minutes belabors with great vigor and his two brushes, for he brought them in a small valise which contains, among numerous other articles of the toilette, his beautiful head of hair. At last we are ready, and descend to the regions below. Arm in arm we advance, to go through with the ordeal I have been dreading so long. Hardly any one has come in yet. We all three incline ourselves before Mr., Mrs.,

and Miss Spindle-Augustus is dressing for his part-who in their turn bow their awful heads. Why should such a Cerberus stand before the gates, not of Hell, but of that Paradise of beauty and pleasure I am about to enter? Neither Docket nor Scribbner mention my simple name, each thinking, as they afterwards confess. that the ceremony of introduction would be performed with more grace by the other. And if we had been near enough, we might have heard Mrs. Spindle whisper to her husband, "My dear, who is that with Scribbner and Docket? I don't recollect his face. How did he happen to be invited? You must know him." "How should I know who you ask to your parties, Mrs. S?" Mr. Spindle petulantly responds. "Not because I am consulted, at any rate. You or Mary must know him, he spoke to you." And Mrs. Spindle tries to persuade Mary, who is so near-sighted that she can't see her own mistakes, nor the stars which usually follow a blow on the head, that I am a friend of hers, and that she ought to be accountable for my behavior.

The company gradually come in. Inquiring and critical glances are cast towards me, and I feel that I have acquired an enviable notoriety as the unknown to any one. For, after my rebuff up stairs, I do not try to make acqaintances.

The play, "The Party Wall," begins. The rising of the curtain is very fine. It goes up pretty much as curtains do at real theatres, and being regarded as a successful experiment, raises a storm of applause. Unfortunately, though it only increases the applause, it catches when little more than half way up, and cannot be induced to move on. And there we see the legs of Mr. Augustus, who is "first on," and has a soliloquy which he is rapidly forgetting. At last the machinery is put into running order once more, the curtain is lowered, and then rises slowly and gracefully to its full height, and the performers begin to entertain us. Unfortunately they have forgotten one thing, sometimes considered of the first importance, viz., their parts. The omission may have been intentional, and designed to make the deception more deceptive, that it may be a question with us when we reach home whether we have not, after all, been to a real theatre.

With this exception, and the additional fact that, as a general thing, the performers might just as well be repeating some of Mrs. Barbauld's pretty hymns, so entirely innocent are they of any thing like dramatic action or expression, all goes on

smoothly. This may be owing in part to the author of the play, for such a mess of vapid and ridiculous nothings has he put into the mouths of his characters, that it isn't strange they hesitate to pronounce them with any vigor, and avoid as much as possible throwing themselves into their parts.

The author attempts to conceal or make up for his weakness and want of dramatic skill, by the introduction of a sufficient quantity of oaths of the strongest kind, and of the deepest dye. To the. male performers these seem like green spots in the desert. Here they identify themselves with the conceptions of the author, and with a high sounding voice roll them out with a peculiar relish.

These few drawbacks there are to the perfect and unalloyed enjoyment, which would otherwise be complete, of those few thrice blessed individuals, who have been provided with tickets, standing or otherwise (my feet ache as I think of it), to this delightful entertainment.

With these few exceptions and the mishaps caused by the stupidity of young Distaff, Augustus's cousin, all goes merry as a prompter's bell. For this young gentleman in the confusion caused by his novel situation, instead of exiting L. U. E. through the door, kindly and at some expense I suppose, provided for his egress, makes a short cut, and plunges mildly through a paper side scene, just about where the chimney is supposed to be.

Miss Kitty Spindle, niece of our hostess, and cousin of Mary, is the only one, with the exception of Augustus, who attempts any vocal or facial expression of those emotions which agitate her bosom and are too strong for concealment. She seems to have come to the conclusion that her part prescribes archness, and so she does it. And this archness she assumes in incredible quantities in the after-piece of Perfection, in which she takes the part of the servant.

It is very well done, too, this archness, except in that particular wherein she seems most to pride herself, viz., in the expression of her countenance, which she illumines by a perpetual smirk and grin; which, however fascinating in themselves, become really painful when persisted in for the whole of a long evening.

At last the plays are over. The performers in all the glory of stage properties, cork moustachios, false hair and jewels, wander among the audience, and receive the congratulations of their friends and the thanks of the company for the pleasure they have afforded. And then we go down to supper.

I have recovered in a degree from the effect produced by the novelty of my situation. I have observed, with some surprise, that the people about me are much like those I have been used to meet, and I have come to the conclusion that the Spindles and their friends are but common people, after all. Accordingly, and in consequence of these cheering reflections, I take courage, since people no longer look at me as they did, and escort back to the room overhead the lady whom Scribbner introduced me to, and whom I took down to supper and provided with refreshments. Shall I ever forget the Herculean labors I performed in her behalf? A slight, delicate-looking girl she was too. You would almost think that the near approach of a plate of ice would convert her into hoar frost. Yet she withstood the advance of pyramid after pyramid, and cast lingering glances towards the table as I forced her away.

After performing this little duty of politeness I returned to the supper-room, as is the custom with those who do not dance, for the purpose of satisfying my own hunger, and to drink a glass of wine with Mr. Augustus and my friends Scribbner and Docket, whom I find just beginning upon a fresh bottle of Heidsick.

The scalloped oysters, the chicken salad, and the champagne go round, and so do many pleasant and wicked stories. And we hear two jolly red-nosed, white-headed, old-gentlemanly reprobates, using language I know I ought not to listen to, so I devote myself to young Spindle.

Augustus enlightens me as to the names and true rank of the company assembled, and almost petrifies me and brings back all my feelings of one, by repeating names which I know stand almost at the head of the social and fashionable list. And I go up stairs again'" a sadder and a wiser man," overwhelmed with a sense of my own insignificance, and a feeling of wonder that people so great, so rich, and so noble. should so unbend, and descend from the high and haughty position which they occupy through wealth, good-breeding, and descent. And, although overcome by a sense of my situation, I consider myself fortunate in having been present at so interesting a spectacle, and in having seen the nobility of the city, at play as it were. And I wonder that these haughty aristocrats should condescend so far as to wink at, or regard with only an astonished stare, my person among them, and should allow me to move about and eat ices in their august presence.

I am glad I did not know what manner