He

Desmond's friend Waverley asked us after his celebrated namesake. We told him he was going on very well, and was very like his relation; a compliment which Mr. Waverley acknowledged by a bow. We related to him the sea-side adventure of Waverley's friend, the Antiquary; at which the other exclaimed, "Good God! how like an adventure which happened to a friend of our acquaintance? only see what coincidences will take place!" asked us if the Antiquary had never noticed the resemblance, and was surprised to hear that he had not. "I should not wonder at it," said he, "if the incident had been well known; but these Antiquaries, the best of them, have strange grudging humours, and I will tell him of it," added he, "when I see him." Mr. Waverley anticipated with great delight the society of his namesake with his numerous friends, though he did not seem to expect much from the female part of them,

Before we broke up, tragical doings were likely to have occurred between the housekeeper and Mrs. Humphrey Clinker. Mrs. Slipslop sent up a message apologizing for some of the jellies. She expressed a fear-(which was correctly delivered by an impudent young rogue of a messenger)-that "the superfluency of the sugar would take away the tastality of the jellies, and render them quite innoxious." (If the reader thinks this account overcharged, we have to inform him that he will fall into the error of the audience about the pig.) Mrs.

Humphrey was indignant at this "infected nonsense," as she called it; and she was fidgeting out of the room to scold the rhetorician, when her husband called her back, telling her that it was beneath the dignity of a rational soul like hers to fret itself with such matters. Winifred's blood began to rise at the first part of this observation; but the words, "like hers," induced her to sit down, and content herself with an answer to the message. Peregrine Pickle, who was sorry to see affairs end so quietly, persuaded her, however, to put her message in writing; and Mrs. Slipslop would have inevitably been roused and brought up stairs, had not Sir Charles condescended to interfere. The answer was as follows:

"MRS. SLIBBERSLOP,-Hit Bing beneath the diggingit of a rasher and sole, to cumfabberrate with sich parsons, I Desire that you wil send up sum geallies Fit for a cristum and a gentile wommun to Heat. We ar awl astonied Att yure niggling gents. The geallys ar Shamful."

Peregrine begged her to add a word of advice respecting the "pompous apology;" upon which she concluded thus:

"A nuthur tim doant Send up sich pumpers and stuf; and so no moar at present from

"Yure wel wisker,

and Polly jeers

"WINIFRED CLINKER."

When the ladies had put on their cloaks, and were waiting for their carriages, we could not but remark how well Sophia Western-(we like to call her by

her good old name)-looked in any dress and position. She was all ease and goodnature, and had a charming shape. Lady Grandison was a regular beauty; but did not become a cloak. She was best in full dress. Pamela was a little soft-looking thing, who seemed " as if butter would not melt in her mouth." But she had something in the corner of her eye, which told you that you had better take care how you behaved yourself. She would look all round her at every man in the room, and hardly one of them be the wiser. Pamela was not so splendidly dressed as her friend Lady Grandison; but her clothes were as costly. The Miss Howes, Lady G.'s, and others of that class, were loud, brighteyed, raw-boned people, who tossed on their cloaks without assistance, or commanded your help with a sarcasm. Camilla, Cecilia, and Evelina, were all very handsome and agreeable. We prefer, from

what we recollect of them, Camilla and Evelina; but they say Cecilia is the most interesting. Louisa Mildmay might have been taken for a pale beauty; but her paleness was not natural to her, and she was resuming her colour. Her figure was luxuriant; and her eyes, we thought, had a depth in them beyond those of any person's in the room. We did not see much in Narcissa and Emilia Gauntlett, but they were both good jolly damsels enough. Of Amelia we have spoken already. We have a recollection that Hermsprong's wife (a Miss Campionet) was a pleasant girl; but somehow she had got out of our sight.

The daughters of the Vicar of Wakefield were fine girls, especially Sophia; for whom, being of her lover Sir William's age, we felt a particular tenderness.

VOL. I.

I

BEDS AND BEDROOMS.

Intrinsical nature of bed.—Advantage of people in bed over people that are "up."-Dialogue with a person "up.”— Feather-beds, curtains, &c.-Idea of a perfect bed-room.Custom half the secret of content.-Bed-room in a cottage.Bed at sea.-Beds in presses and alcoves.-Anecdotes of beds.-The bed of Morpheus in Spenser.

We have written elsewhere* of "sleep," and of "dreams," and of "getting up on cold mornings," and divers other matters connected with bed; but, unless we had written volumes on that one subject, it would be hard indeed if we could not find fresh matter to speak of, connected with the bed itself, and the room which it inhabits. We involuntarily use a verb with a human sense,-" inhabits;" for of all goods and chattels, this surely contracts a kind of humanity from the warmth so often given to it by the comfortable soul within. Its pillows-as a philosophic punster might observe-have something in them "next to the human cheek."

"Home is home," says the good proverb, "how*In the "Indicator."