pared with its clean white cloth, and partaken of the meal in unsocial silence, she was dismissed to her own hovel, with an intimation that Audrew would himself put away the fragments of the repast, and had no need of her further services that night.

What were Andrew Cleaves's special reasons for ridding himself so impatiently of old Jenny's company that evening, and what were his cogitations after he had locked her out, and himself in, and resumed his for mer station by the hearth and the little supper table, we cannot exactly ascertain, though it is to be presumed they differed widely from those feelings of snug satisfaction, with which, after the old lady had set by him his pipe and his small glass of ale, he had been wont to lock her civilly out, and re-seat himself in his comfortable corner, with the sweet consciousness, that his child was sleep ing peacefully in the little adjoining chamber, and that he should himself lie down to rest on the same bed, when the cuckoo flung open his small door in the old Dutch clock, and warned him it was time to retire.

Very different must have been his cogitations the night he dismissed poor Jenny so impatiently-for when the cuckoo warned, he still sat on unheeding, with his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the cold fireless hearth, where no spark had glimmered for the last half hour-the pipe unlit, and the small glass of ale still untasted. But when the hour actually struck, it aroused him from his comfortless abstraction; and starting and shivering with a sensation of cold to which he had been till then insensible, he hastily swallowed down his temperate draught, and taking up the end of the candle, now flaring in its socket, and moving with the noiseless stealthy step acquired by long habits of carefulness for the slumbers of his little bed-fellow, he entered his now solitary chamber, and shut himself within it-and what were his thoughts that night, his feelings, and his prayers, may be guessed by some

hearts, but perhaps not fully conceived by any.

son.

It would be hard to say whether the ensuing Saturday was more eagerly looked forward to byfather or Certain it is, that when the morning of that day arrived, Andrew was in no less haste to be gone, than when he had harnessed old Dobbin to the cart so expeditiously on the preceding Monday. But when he reached C- it was still too early to call for his boy, for Andrew, with all his impatience, would not on any account have anticipated the precise moment when the half-holiday commenced-so he trafficked away the intervening time at his different places of call, and drew up the cart at the door of Mr. Jerk's Academy, just as the "young gentlemen" had risen from their Saturday's commons of scrap-pie and stick-jaw—certain savoury preparations not enumerated in the catalogue of that scientific professor, Monsieur Ude, or perhaps recommended by the late Dr. Kitchiner, but quite familiar to the palate of provincial schoolboys. Little Josiah, having just risen from the aforesaid banquet, came running to the door at the sound of the cart-wheels, choking with joy, and the last huge mouthful of tenacious compound. In a moment he was up in his father's arms, and hugging him so tight round the neck, that Andrew was fain to cry out,

"Well, well, my man! but you'll not throttle your old dad, will ye? Have you been a good boy, Joey ?"

Joey answered with a second hug, and the usher, who stood smirking at the door, satisfactorily certified the same; so the boy was sent to wash his greasy face and hands, and fetch his hat and little bundle of Sunday clothes, and then his father lifted him up into the cart, and turning old Dobbin, and giving him the sign of departure, a bright cherup and a propelling stamp, in a few minutes they were fairly out of C, and on their glad way to the cottage. What were the boy's acclamations of delight at the first sight of its curling

smoke, and dark brown thatch-and how, in spite of all Andrew's endeavours to set him right, he persisted in miscalculating time and space -and how often he fidgeted up and down on the seat-and how he took a heap of chalk in a distant field for the grey colt-and a flannel petticoat hung out to dry, for old Jenny in propria persona-and how his father went on pointing out the folly and unprofitableness of such crude guesses and rash assertions; and how the boy went on making them thick and threefold-those will be at no loss to conceive who have ever accompanied a lively urchin to his own home, on his first return after his first week's schooling.

They may also picture to themselves the actual arrival-little Joey actually at home again-smothering old Jenny with kisses-squeezing the cat to a thread-paper-scampering down the garden to see if his beans were come up-unhitching his hoop from the nail, and flinging it away, to run and see whether the grey colt was in the home croft-scrambling upon the back of his unbroken favourite, and racing round the field, holding on by his mane, not a jot the worse as a finale-for being pitched right into the privet hedge, from whence, half rolling, half scrambling out into the garden, he came crawling up the gravel walk on all fours, with that characteristic disregard of seriousness and propriety, which had so early evinced itself, in despite of his father's solemn admonitions and decorous example. Fortunately, on the present occasion, Andrew was absent unharnessing the mare, and there was nothing new to Jenny in the uncouth performance. When the first ebullition of joy had subsided, (or rather when the animal spirits were sobered by actual exhaustion,) Josiah was well content to sit on his little stool beside his father, close by the bright warm hearth, while Jenny lit the candle, and set on the kettle, and brought out the cups and saucers, and Josiah's own basin, full of the red cow's milk, set

by for him at that evening's milking, and the hot oat-cake, prepared for his especial regale. Then came the time for question and answer, and the father made minute inquiry into all school particulars, and his brow contracted a little, when Joey confessed that his three sixpences were gone; yea, melted away, expended to the last fraction; yet how, he could by no means explain even to his own satisfaction, though he counted over and over again, upon his little fat fingers, sundry purchases of pies, crabs, gingerbread, marbles, and pennyworths of brown sugar; the enumeration whereof by no means tended to unknit the puckers in his father's brow, who, for that time, however, contented himself with a short lecture on prodigal expenditure. But Joey's bosom laboured with matter more important, and his little heart swelled indignantly, as, with a quivering lip, and broken voice, he began to recount a long list of the insults and mortifications to which he had been subjected. He had been the butt of the whole school, twirled about like a te-totum; while one pretended to admire the fashion of his clothes, and another asked if they were made by Adam's tailor; and a third, if his hat had belonged to his great-grandfather; and with that, clapping it on the crown, till his little face was buried therein, and the broad brim rested on his shoulders, they called him little Amminadab, and bandying him about thus blindfold from one to the other, bade him complain to his dad, old "Praise-God-barebones ;" and then the poor little boy revealed to the indignant eyes of his father and Jenny, an awful fracture, which, in the progress of these mischievous sports, had nearly dissevered one of his long coat flaps, though the maid of the house had hastily tacked up the rent when his father called for him. Darker and darker Andrew's countenance had waxed, as he listened to the detail of these atrocities. Fearful was the contraction of his brow, the dilation of his nostril, and

the compression of his thin straight lips, when Joey, with an apprehensive side-glance and a suppressed tone of horror, pronounced the opprobrious cognomen which had been so irreverently applied to his own sacred person; and by the time all was unfolded, he had well nigh made up his mind that his son should return no more to the companionship of such daring reprobates; but Andrew Cleaves was seldom guilty of hasty decision; and when his displeasure had had time to cool, and he found reason to be satisfied on the whole with Joey's further report of school progress, he thought it expedient to gulp down the unpalata ble part of the narration, and to reconduct his son to the Rev. Mr. Jerk's academy at the expiration of the Sabbath holiday.

That Sabbath had passed like all former ones at the cottage, undistinguished by any additional gleam of cheerfulness or innocent recreation; and by the time it was half over, Joey began to think of the morrow, and his return to school, with less repugnance than on the preceding evening. When Monday came, indeed, home was home again; and when the cart was ready, Joey ascended it rather dejectedly, consoling himself, however, with the thought, that Saturday would come round again in five days. Joey's calculations were correct for onceSaturday came in five days, and he was fetched home again, and again returned rapturously to all its delights; and this time he had no grievance to relate; no, not though his broad-brimmed beaver had been clipped to a porringer, and his whole raiment exhibited such woeful dilapidation, as to set at nought all Jenny's repairing ingenuity, for both coatflaps were gone-annihilated-irremediably abstracted-having been (as strongly indicated by certain suspicious appearances) actually singed off from the dishonoured garment. Still, in spite of Jenny's dismay, and his father's indignation, Joey persisted that all was well that he was 7 ATHENEUM, VOL. 9, 2d series.

now "very good friends with his school-fellows; that they were only very funny fellows; and if they had burnt off his coat-tails, a jacket was much more comfortable and convenient, especially for playing at leapfrog.'

In short, so perversely resigned was Master Joey to the docking which had been inflicted on his "good grey frieze," that it might have been shrewdly inferred he had had a hand in the operation. Happily for him, no such suspicion insinuated itself into his father's mind, who was, however, highly scandalized at the whole proceeding, and carried into effect his determination of laying it before the Rev. Mr. Jerk, when Josiah returned to school. A conference with that gentleman had, however, the effect, not only of prevailing on Andrew to pass over in silence the illegal curtailment of his son's week-day garb, but to permit the whole suit, as well as that set apart for Sundays, to be so far modernized as no longer to subject the boy to the practical jokes of his mischievous companions.

Happy had it been for Andrew Cleaves if his parental disquietude had been excited by no causes more serious than the aforementioned: But, alas! innumerable vexations sprang up to embitter that weekly reunion with his child, at first so delightful to both parties. Every succeeding Saturday diminished Joey's eagerness to return to his home, his former pleasures, and his dumb favorites. Every succeeding Sunday beneath the paternal roof, hung heavier upon him than the former; and as his impatience increased, his weariness became more apparent, and the lessons of manly independence he had begun to learn among his playfellows, manifested their fruits in such acts of contumacy, as called down stern rebuke, and sometimes severe chastisement, from the hitherto indulgent father, though Joey still stood too much in awe of the latter to venture on very open rebellion. So he became sullen, and

silent, and incommunicative; and the unfortunate result of the father's undue severity, was to impress on the mind of the hitherto thoughtless and frank-tempered boy, the expediency of keeping to himself those idle frolics and venial trespasses, which, on his return from school, had been boasted of, and confessed with an innocent confidence, it should have been Andrew's care to confirm and encourage. But Andrew, with all his fancied wisdom, was profoundly ignorant of the milder arts of training; and it was really on Scrip ture principles, erroneously applied, that as the boy grew older, he thought it his duty to treat him with increased severity, and to rebuke, with uncompromising sternness, those venial lapses, which, when candidly confessed, should have been commented on with lenient gentleness. Very Soon Josiah learnt to anticipate the Sabbath holiday as a weekly penance, and ample amends did he make himself for its dulness and restraint, when he found himself once more among his merry mates in the school playground; and very soon Joey was noted for the most daring spirit of the whole riotous assemblage" Up to everything" -The leader of all conspiracies the foremost in all mischief the most enterprising in all dangers-and, what was more remarkable, the readiest and most ingenious at equivocations, inventions, and even unblushing falsehood, in cases of suspicion or detection. But as he became more knowing in all evil experience, his home deportment gradually manifested such an altera tion as rejoiced the heart, and, at length, excited the highest hopes, of the credulous parent, whose boasted penetration failed him in detecting even the earliest artifices of infant 'cunning.

Joey's natural shrewdness soon found out the vulnerable points of his father's character; and that by affecting to copy his serious carriage and sententious speech, and now and then bringing home a new Psalin tune, or quoting a Scripture text, or

relating, with well-feigned abhor rence, some anecdote of a reprobate schoolfellow-or pleading his want of some useful book, the old man was even prevailed on to undraw the strings of his canvass bag; and the young hypocrite's glee at obtaining substantial proof of his ingenuity, was enhanced by his public triumph, when he rehearsed, in the circle of his thoughtless schoolmates, the "capital acting" with which he had " come over the old gentleman."

In short, Master Joey's proficiency in these thriving arts was such as would have done credit to an older head, and the pupil of a more fashionable establishment; and as his attainments in the ostensible branches of his education really kept pace with his supernumerary accomplishments, all went on seemingly as well as heart could wish; and Andrew's ambitious views for his son's future advancement took firm root in the ground-work of these fair appear ances.

Andrew Cleaves was not a man to lay down plans with reservationsto make provident allowance for unforeseen circumstances or to leave much to Providence. Neither did he ever decide in haste; but having once come to a determination, it was seldom qualified with the mental proviso-"If it please God."

So well considered, so fully matured, and so irrevocably fixed, were his parental plans.

Though still abiding in his father's humble cottage, and (comparatively with many of his neighbours) farming in a small way, Andrew Cleaves had contrived to scrape together a sum of money, on which many a more dashing spirit would have set up a one-horse chay, taken out a shooting license, and drank his bottle of port daily. But our farmer's ambition aimed at more remote objects. His savings were snugly deposited in a Banking-house at C; where, however, they by no means lay in unprofitable security; and on certain considerations arranged among the parties concerned,

certain engagements had been entered into, that, at a competent age, the young Josiah should be received as a clerk in the establishment; and from that office be further advanced, as after circumstances should war rant. Andrew uttered not a word of these projects to any human being, but he brooded over them in his own heart, till the grand object seemed so secure of attainment-so built up

by prudence, and foresight, and calculation, as to bid defiance to all adverse circumstances of time, and change, and even of death itself. Poor man! And yet the uncertainty of life, and the vanity of worldly things, and the snares of riches and honours, were ever in his talk, and in his mortified seriousness of aspect. (Continued in the next number.)

HE

E that says he does not like a pantomime, either says what he does not think, or is not so wise as he fancies himself. He should grow young again, and get wiser. "The child," as the poet says, "is father to the man ;" and in this instance, he has a very degenerate offspring. Yes: John Tomkins, aged thirty-five, and not liking pantomimes, is a very unpromising little boy. Consider, Tomkins, you have still a serious regard for pudding, and are ambitious of being thought clever. Well, there is the Clown who will sympathize with you in dumplings; and not to see into the cleverness of Harlequin's quips and metamorphoses is to want a perception which other little boys have by nature. Not to like pantomimes, is not to like animal spirits; it is not to like motion; not to like love; not to like a jest upon dulness and formality; not to smoke one's uncle; not to like, or see, a thump in the face; not to laugh; not to fancy; not to like a holiday; not to know the pleasure of setting up at Christmas; not to sympathize with one's children; not to remember that we have been children ourselves; nor that we shall grow old, and be as gouty as Pantaloon, if we are not as wise and as active as they.

Not wishing to be dry on so pleasant a subject, we shall waive the learning that is in us on the origin of these popular entertainments. It will be sufficient to observe, that among the Italians, from whom we

The

borrowed them, they consisted of a run of jokes upon the provincial peculiarities of their countrymen. Harlequin, with his giddy vivacity, was the representative of the inhabitant of one state. Pantaloon, of the imbecile carefulness of another. Clown, of the sensual, macaroni-eating Neapolitan, with his instinct for eschewing danger; and Columbine, Harlequin's mistress, was the type, not indeed of the outward woman, (for the young ladies were too restrained in that matter,) but_of_the inner girl of all the lasses in Italy,the tender, fluttering heart,—the lit tle dove (colombini,) ready to take flight with the first lover, and to pay off old scores with the gout and the jealousy, that had hitherto kept it in durance.

The reader has only to transfer the character to those of his own countrymen, to have a lively sense of the effect which these national pictures must have had in Italy. Imagine Harlequin a gallant adventurer, from some particular part of the empire, full of life and fancy, sticking at no obstacles, leaping gates and windows, hitting off a satire at every turn, and converting the very scrapes he gets in, to matters of jest and triumph. The old gentleman that pursues him is a miser from some manufacturing town, whose ward he has run away with. The Clown is a London cockney, with a prodigious eye for his own comfort and muffins,-a Lord May or's Fool, who loved "every thing