to church with this here beard on, six days long, and Jim, him as is the barber over the way, won't shave me for fear of the five pound penalty, so I shall stop where I is.

Snob.-Come along in to our place-my Sal isn't so particular-she's read the hact itself, and swears she's a hexception-we got a line of mutton, vith the kidney in it, and a peck of taty's-come along wi’ your old woman, and let's be jolly.

Snip.-Jolly-Hark, Mr. S-, there's one on 'em over the vay-don't ye know 'em-that 's one o' Byers's boys-if he hears you laugh to-day, two-punten for you.

Snob.-Peter's pence-eh ?—well, if we main't speak of a Sunday in the street, let's come in—our's, you know, is a back room, up two pair-they can't hear us there come along-I say, what shall we have to drink?

Snip.-There's nothing but vater for us as can't afford vine-public-houses is shut-no sarving Sabbath-day.

Snob.-Vell, never mind-ve 'll try and cheat the old one. There are cunninger dogs than the lawmakers, and them is the law-breakers. Go and ask missus to come and join us.

tells

Snip.-Oh, she'll come, and jump too; and I ye what as we know'd we could not have no heavy wet to-day, she got a couple of bottles of Jacky, as will nourish us through the arternoon.

Snob. So it will, Bill; and we won't stir out at all. If we can't have a drop o' short, or a swig o' heavy among the rurals in the harbours-what's the country to us, we can't live upon hair!

Snip.-No, not by no means.

If I could but get

my chin scraped, I'd try and make myself comfortable.

Snob.-Is barber Jem at home?

Snip.-Yes, shut up in his back parlour a making wigs, where nobody can see him.

Snob.-I tell ye vot, let's ax him to eat a bit of our mutton. He han't got nobody to cook for him, poor buffer, so we'll ax him over, and then if he brings his soap and a kipple of razors in his vestcoat pockets, he can shave us two, just by way of amusement, while Sal's getting the line ready.

Snip.-Amusement! - that's quite gone out,there's my poor missus who used to get from eighteen to four-and-twenty shillings a week a manty making in Crambo alley, can't get a stich o' work to do-nobody wears nothing now-they used only to put on their bits of things onest a week, to shew 'em like, and now they marn't go out a pleasuring o' Sundays, they buys nothing.

Snob.-Vell, come along up stairs, we'll have a day on it, please the pigs; your two bottles of Jacky will last us till bedtime, and I'll toss you up who pays for both-I'm not going to swelter out in the sun to walk.

Snip.-Nor I-I'll be with you in a twinkling, and when we have got my missus and barber Jem, we'll just lock the door and drink confusion to the reformers.

For the sequel we have not room in detail. Snip, Snob, and barber Jem, ensconced in their fast-hold, pass the Sabbath with the females in hidden intoxication and carefully concealed profligacy-drunken

ness progresses. Barber Jem contributes from his store over the way to the replenishment of the ginbottle. Jealousy grows out of familiarity; the women tear each other's caps, and scratch each other's faces. Snob knocks Snip over the ballusters, and barber Jem is taken to the station-house dead drunk.

In better society things will grow even worse. The mind restricted to drudgery through the week must have relaxation at the end of it; and the tradesmen, and clerks, and their ladies, sweethearts, and wives, have a right in this Christian and civilized country, to share the innocent pleasures of the male part of the creation on the only day upon which they can properly enjoy them. What can be more innocent than going to Richmond, walking upon the hill, or paddling about by the water? What more agreeable or healthy than steaming to Gravesend (where the animosity of the people towards the aristocracy has recently been evinced by their conduct towards the Pier)? What more natural than to eat and drink when arrived there?—No: that is contrary to the law. What! of nature or nations?-No: of Agnew and of Peter. Surely if young ladies are satisfied with soles and eels, and ducks and peas, and sage and onions, and port wine and punch, and such things as these, all eaten fairly and above-board at open windows or in the open air, such persons as Peter and Agnew should rejoice thereat. Confine them in London, deny them harmless gaiety, pen them up with their lovers and friends, tell them they must not stir out, and like the Snips and Snobs of inferior life they will turn their thoughts into other

channels, and soles and eels, and ducks and

will shortly sink in their estimation, only, however, to give place to a catalogue of other things too numerous to mention in the short space of an advertise

ment.

Oh, if these Agnews and Peters would but be content to take man as God has been pleased to make him, and allow him the free agency with which the Divinity has invested him, how much more wisely would they act. If they themselves believe that piety consists in eating cold meat on Sundays, in avoiding carriages, in eschewing all sorts of social conversation; if they see perdition in a plum-bun, and utter destruction in a glass of mild ale, let them henceforth live on frigid sheep, moan, mump, and be miserable, and fast, and grieve, in direct opposition to the spirit and character of Christians observing the Protestant Sunday-but do not let them meddle with matters which cannot concern them, and by their success in which they would infallibly corrupt the body of the people, and endanger the safety of the commonwealth.

THE SPINSTER'S PROGRESS.

AT 15.-Dimpled cheeks, sparkling eyes, coral lips, and ivory teeth-a sylph in figure. All anxiety for coming out-looks about her with an arch yet timid expression, and blushes amazingly upon the slightest provocation.

16.-Bolder and plumper-draws, sings, plays the harp, dines at table when there are small partiesgets fond of plays, to which she goes in a private box-dreams of a hero-hates her governess-is devoted to poetry.

17. Having no mother who values herself on her youth, is presented by an aunt-first terrified, then charmed. Comes out-Almack's-Opera-begins to flirt-selects the most agreeable, but most objectionable man in the room as the object of her affections— he, eminently pleasant, but dreadfully poor-talks of love in a cottage, and a casement window all over woodbine.

18.-Discards the sighing swain, and fancies herself desperately devoted to a Lancer, who has amused himself by praising her perfections. Delights in fétes and déjeuners-dances herself into half a consumption. Becomes an intimate friend of Henry's sisters.

19.-Votes Henry stupid-too fond of himself to care for her talks a little louder than the year before -takes care to shew that she understands the bestconcealed bon-mots of the French plays-shews off her bright eyes, and becomes the centre of four satellites who flicker round her.

20.-Begins to wonder why none of the sighers propose-gets a little peevish-becomes a politicianrallies the Whigs-avows Toryism—all women are Tories, except two or three who may be anything— gets praised beyond measure by her party-discards Italian music, and sings party songs-called charming, delightful, and "so natural."

21.-Enraptured with her new system-pursues it with redoubled ardour-takes to riding constantly on