at the time; while, on your return to London, it would be too late-in due consideration of all which, he farther indulges himself in insolent language.

29. (S.)

As you walk the streets on the evening of the 5th of November-a cracker thrown into your pocket by some mischievous little rascal, who instantly runs away;-then, in your hasty attempt to snatch it out, feeling it burst in your hand, after leaving your handkerchief in flames.

Tes. Yes, and leaving you in flames, too,. at being disappointed of your vengeance against the young villain:

"Sævit atrox

nec téli conspicit unquam

Auctorem, nec quò se, ardens, immittere possit."

VIRG.

30. (S.)

In taking out your money in a hackney-coachdropping the greatest part of it (and all the gold) in the straw; then, after grubbing and fumbling after it for an hour, finding nothing but the gaping crevices through which it must have escaped.

31. (S.)

Treading on a beau-trap, while in the act of gaily advancing your foot to make a bow to some charming women of your acquaintance, whom you suddenly meet, and to whom you liberally impart a share of the jet d'eau.

32. (S.)

Being a compulsory spectator and auditor of a brawling and scratching match, between two drunken Drabs, in consequence of the sudden influx of company, by whom you are hemmed in, an hundred yards deep, in every direction, leaving you no chance of escape, till the difference in sentiment between the ladies is adjusted:-where you stand, you are (that is, I was) closely bounded, in front, by a barrow of cat's meat, the unutterable contents of which employ your eyes and nose, while your ear is no less fully engaged by the Tartarean yell of its driver.

33. (S.)

As you walk forth, freshly and sprucely dressed -receiving in full, at a sharp turning, the filthy flirtings of a well-twirled mop.

Tes. Ah! the jade !-Juvenal had never

been submitted to this mode of irrigation,

when he said

"Nemo repentè fuit turpissimus."

34. (S.)

The too violent exercise of being hustled in the

streets.

35. (S.)

A footman at the next door learning to play upon the fife or fiddle, and (besides other enormities in his practice) catching, as you play them, all your favourite airs, which he returns to you in every possible key, and time, except the rightgiving the Dead March in Saul as a jig; Paddy Whack as an adagio; &c. &c.

36. (T.)

As you are quietly walking along in the vicinity of Smithfield, on market-day, finding yourself suddenly obliged, though your dancing-days have been long over, to lead outsides, cross over, foot it, and a variety of other steps and figures-with mad bulls for your partners!

Sen. Yes, or

37. (S.)

Being called upon, in like manner, to cut capers

at a moment's warning, by a headlong butcher's boy, who beats time for you by stamping close at your side on the slabby pavement, with his shrill catcal for your music!

38. (T.)

Being accelerated in your walk by the lively application of a chairman's pole a posteriori;—his “by your leave" not coming till after he has taken it.

39. (S.)

The manner in which a fish-woman unfolds her opinions of you, when you have unintentionally drawn them forth by overturning her full basket:--

"Loud menaces are heard, and foul disgrace, And bawling infamy, in language base,--Till sense is lost in sound, and silence fled the place."

40. (S.)

DRYD.

During the endless time that you are kept waiting at a door in a carriage while the ladies are shopping, having your impatience soothed by the setting of a saw, close at your ear.

Ned Tes.

"From the table of my memory
"I'll wipe away all saws.”

SHAK.

41. (T.)

Your hat, and part of your head, poked off from behind, without notice or apology, by an huge beam a quarter of a mile in length, as its bearers blindly blunder along with it.

Sen. O intolerable!—a quaker at court is far better off; for, though his hat is lugged off by others unceremoniously enough, yet, I understand, they always make a point of leaving all the head behind.

42. (T.)

Crouching and crawling through the scaffoldings, ladders, rubbish, flying smother, tumbling bricks, &c. of a half-ruined house---and all this without having made your will!

43. (S.)

The meridian midnight of a thick London fog,--leaving you no method of distinguishing between the pavement, and the middle of the street; much less between one street and another---the " palpable obscure" pursuing you into your parlour, and bed-chamber, till you can neither see, speak, nor breathe.

Tes. Aye, I am quite at home in that misery;