It gets so dark that I can hardly puzzle out my memorandums :-O!-that reminds me, by the way, of another morsel of readingmisery which came upon me yesterday evening; viz.

29. (T.)

Straining your eyes over a book in the twilight, at the rate of about five minutes per line, before it occurs to you to order candles; and when they arrive, finding that you have totally lost the sense of what you have been reading, by the tardy operation of getting at it piece-meal.

30. (T.)

Attempting to erase writing---but, in fact, only scratching holes in the paper.

31. (T.)

Snatching up an inkstand (overweighed on one side) by its handle, which you suppose to be fixed, but which proves---to swing!

32. (T.)

Writing at the same ricketty table with another, who employs his shoulder, elbow, and body, still more actively than his fingers.

33. (T.)

Writing, on the coldest day in the year, in the coldest room in the house, by a fire which has sworn not to burn; and so, perpetually dropping your full pen upon your paper, out of the five icicles with which you vainly endeavour to hold it.

34. (T.)

Looking for a good pen, (which it is your perverse destiny never to find, except when you are indifferent about it,) and having a free choice among the following varieties. [N. B. No penknife.]

35. (T.)

Writing with ink of about the consistency of pitch, which leaves alternately a blot and a blank.

36. (T.)

Writing a long letter with one or more of the cut fingers of your right hand bundled up---or else (for more comfort!) with your left hand.

See! (shewing his fingers wrapped up) you might as well stick a pen in a bear's paw, and bid him write :-I have had three letters this morning returned as illegible; and if you will look at what I have just stumped out upon that paper, you'll find they have not complained without reason.

Sen. I have seen finer writing, undoubtedly ;—but what do you expect?—it is our fate-other men never meet with these things, while we meet with nothing else.So, too, in reading, as we have just seen; our volumes will neither shut when they are open, nor open when they are shut-and, to come back to your present accident, our pens are

never fit to be used, except when our fingers are not fit to use them ;- -so it is.

Tes. Yes, yes-it is the way of things-so things go-Things;-it has come to be a byeword with me, to express, by a sort of shorthand language, the cross-grained twist which takes every plan and action of my life :— Aye, that's so like things," I cry.—But I must leave you in a hurry :-can you dine with me to-day?—or rather, can you take your chance whether there is any thing fit to be touched?

Sen. No;-but I will do what you have unconsciously suggested, by your last words; I will meet you, on your earliest leisure day, for the purpose of enlarging upon your idea of a bad dinner; when, I doubt not, we shall be able to prove, to each other's satisfaction, that those are happiest who have no appetites, and consequently eat least. Who it is that "sends cooks," the proverb has long saved us the trouble of guessing;—and to give them their "due," as well as their Sender, most faithful missionaries they are!

Tes. Cooks!-don't name them, Sensitive

-for my part, I live now chiefly upon milk, which I am not over fond of, merely that I may have my mess dressed by the pure hand of Nature-for as to Milton's "neat-handed Phyllis," she has never yet happened to offer herself to my service.-Yes, I'll talk over the Kitchen with you, as soon as you please, and very eloquent I can be upon it, believe me. I only hope none of the tribe may come athwart me while I am warm with my subject; for it would not have a pretty look, you know, to be hanged for strangling a scullion.

Sen. You would escape, Sir;-no Judge or Jury but would recommend you to mercy; and no King but would extend it :-Yet, on second thoughts, with your leave, we will not defile our tongues with descriptions of foul cookery-an evil so universally felt and understood, that even the adversaries, in our great Cause, will not require us to produce the proofs; let us rather confine ourselves to certain other distresses of the table, which, if less nauseating, are, yet, infinitely more acute, as well as more appropriate to polite sufferers.