either party at once enlivened the preparations and agreeably diversified their character.

“Well, Sam,” said Mr. Pickwick, as his valet appeared at his bed-room door just as he was concluding his toilet; "all alive to-day, I suppose?"

"Reg'lar game, sir," replied Mr. Weller; "our people 's a collecting down at the Town Arms, and they're a hollering themselves hoarse already." "Ah," said Mr. Pickwick, "do they seem devoted to their party, Sam?" "Never see such dewotion in my life, sir."

"Uncommon," replied Sam; "I never see men eat and drink so much afore. I wonder they aint afeer'd o' bustin'."

"That's the mistaken kindness of the gentry here," said Mr. Pickwick. "Wery likely,” replied Sam, briefly.

"Fine, fresh, hearty fellows they seem," said Mr. Pickwick, glancing from the window.

"Wery fresh," replied Sam; "me and the two waiters at the Peacock has been a pumpin' over the independent woters as supped there last night."

"Pumping over independent voters!" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.

"Yes," said his attendant; "every man slept vere he fell down; we dragged 'em out, one by one, this mornin' and put 'em under the pump, and they're in reg'lar fine order now. Shillin' a head the committee paid for that 'ere job." "Can such things be?" exclaimed the astonished Mr. Pickwick.

"Lord bless your heart, sir," said Sam; "why where was you half baptized? That's nothin', that aint."

"Nothing?" said Mr. Pickwick.

"Nothin' at all, sir,” replied his attendant. "The night afore the day o' the last election here the opposite party bribed the bar-maid at the Town Arms to hocus the brandy and water of fourteen unpolled electors as was a stoppin' in the house."

"What do you mean by 'hocussing' brandy and water?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.

"Puttin' laud'num in it," replied Sam. "Blessed if she did n't send 'em all to sleep till twelve hours arter the election was over. They took one man up to the booth in a truck, fast asleep, by way of experiment, but it was no gothey would n't poll him; so they brought him back and put him to bed again." "Strange practices, these," said Mr. Pickwick, half speaking to himself and half addressing Sam.

"Not half so strange as a miraculous circumstance as happened to my own father, at an election time, in this wery place, sir," replied Sam.

"What was that?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.

"Why, he drove a coach down here once," said Sam; "'lection time came on, and he was engaged by vun party to bring down woters from London. Night afore he was going to drive up, committee on t' other side sends for him quietly, and away he goes vith the messenger, who shows him in-large room— lots of gen'l'm'n-heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all that 'ere. 'Ah, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n in the chair, 'glad to see you, sir; how are you?' 'Wery well, thank 'ee, sir,' says my father; 'I hope you're pretty middlin',' says he. 'Pretty well, thank 'ee, sir,' says the gen'l'm'n; 'sit down, Mr. Weller; pray sit down, sir.' So my father sits down, and he and the gen'l'm'n looks

wery hard at each other. 'You don't remember me?' says the gen'l'm'n. 'Can't say I do,' says my father. 'Oh, I know you,' says the gen'l'm'n; 'know'd you ven you was a boy,' says he. 'Well, I don't remember you,' says my father. That's wery odd,' says the gen'l'm'n. 'Wery,' says my father. 'You must have a bad memory, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n. 'Well, it is a wery bad 'un,' says my father. 'I thought so,' says the gen'l'm'n. So then they pours him out a glass o' wine, and gammons him about his driving, and gets him into a reg'lar good humor, and at last shoves a twenty-pound note in his hand. 'It's a wery bad road between this and London,' says the gen'l'm'n. 'Here and there it is a wery heavy road,' says my father. "Specially near the canal, I think,' says the gen'l'm'n. 'Nasty bit, that 'ere,' says my father. 'Well, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n, 'you're a wery good whip, and can do what you like with your horses, we know. We're all wery fond of you, Mr. Weller, so in case you should have an accident when you're a bringing these here woters down, and should tip 'em over into the canal without hurtin' 'em, this is for yourself,' says he. 'Gen'l'm'n, you're wery kind,' says my father, and I'll drink your health in another glass of wine,' says he; vich he did, and then buttons up the money and bows himself out. You would n't believe, sir," continued Sam, with a look of inexpressible impudence at his master, "that on the wery day as he came down with them woters his coach was upset on that 'ere wery spot, and ev'ry man on 'em was turned into the canal."

"And got out again?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, hastily.

'Why," replied Sam, very slowly, "I rather think that one old gentleman was missin'; I know his hat was found, but I aint quite certain whether his head was in it or not. But what I look at is the hextraordinary and wonderful coincidence, that arter what that gen'l'm'n said my father's coach should be upset in that wery place on that wery day!"

"It is, no doubt, a very extraordinary circumstance indeed," said Mr. Pickwick. "But brush my hat, Sam, for I hear Mr. Winkle calling me to breakfast."

With these words Mr. Pickwick descended to the parlor, where he found breakfast laid, and the family already assembled.

V.-MR. PICKWICK AND MRS. BARDELL.

To any one acquainted with the domestic economy of the establishment, and conversant with the admirable regulation of Mr. Pickwick's mind, his appearance and behavior on the morning previous to that which had been fixed upon for the journey to Eatanswill would have been most mysterious and unaccountable. He paced the room to and fro with hurried steps, popped his head out of the window at intervals of about three minutes each, constantly referred to his watch, and exhibited many other manifestations of impatience very unusual with him. It was evident that something of great importance was in contemplation, but what that something was not even Mrs. Bardell herself had been enabled to discover.

"Mrs. Bardell," said Mr. Pickwick, as that amiable female approached the termination of a prolonged dusting of the apartment.

"Sir," said Mrs. Bardell.

"Your little boy is a very long time gone." "Why, it's a good long way to the Borough, sir." "Ah," said Mr. Pickwick, "very true; so it is." into silence, and Mrs. Bardell resumed her dusting. Pickwick, at the expiration of a few minutes.

"Sir," said Mrs. Bardell again.

Mr. Pickwick relapsed "Mrs. Bardell," said Mr.

"Do you think it's a much greater expense to keep two people-than to keep one?"

La, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, coloring up to the very border of her cap, as she fancied she observed a species of matrimonial twinkle in the eyes of her lodger. 'La, Mr. Pickwick, what a question!"

"Well, but do you?"

"That depends," said Mrs. Bardell, approaching the duster very near to Mr. Pickwick's elbow, which was planted on the table, "that depends a good deal upon the person, you know, Mr. Pickwick, and whether it's a saving and careful person, sir.”

"That's very true; but the person I have in my eye (here he looked very hard at Mrs. Bardell) I think possesses these qualities, and has moreover a considerable knowledge of the world, and a great deal of sharpness, Mrs. Bardell, which may be of material use to me."

"La, Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, the crimson rising to her capborder again.

"I do indeed; and to tell you the truth, Mrs. Bardell, I have made up my mind."

"Dear me, sir," exclaimed Mrs. Bardell.

"You'll think it not very strango now," said the amiable Mr. Pickwick, with a good-humored glance at his companion, "that I never consulted you about this matter, and never mentioned it till I sent your little boy out this morning, eh?"

Mrs. Bardell could only reply by a look. She had long worshiped Mr. Pickwick at a distance, but here she was, all at once, raised to a pinnacle to which her wildest and most extravagant hopes had never dared to aspire. Mr. Pickwick was going to propose—a deliberate plan too-sent her little boy to the Borough to get him out of the way; how thoughtful-how considerate! "Well," said Mr. Pickwick, "what do you think?"

"O Mr. Pickwick," said Mrs. Bardell, trembling with agitation, "you're very kind, sir."

"It'll save you a good deal of trouble, won't it?" said Mr. Pickwick.

Oh, I never thought any thing of the trouble, sir," replied Mrs. Bardell; "and of course I should take more trouble to please you then than ever; but it is so kind of you, Mr. Pickwick, to have so much consideration for my loneliness."

"Ah, to be sure; I never thought of that. When I am in town you'll always have somebody to sit with you. To be sure, so you will."

"I'm sure I ought to be a very happy woman."

"And your little boy," said Mr. Pickwick; "he too will have a companion, a lively one, who 'll teach him, I'll be bound, more tricks in a week than he would ever learn in a year." And Mr. Pickwick smiled placidly.

"Oh, you dear-" said Mrs. Bardell.

Mr. Pickwick started.

"Oh, you kind, good, playful dear,” said Mrs. Bardell; and without more ado she rose from her chair and flung her arms round Mr. Pickwick's neck, with a cataract of tears and a chorus of sobs.

"Bless my soul," cried the astonished Mr. Pickwick; "Mrs. Bardell, my good woman-dear me, what a situation-pray consider. Mrs. Bardell, do n't— if any body should come-"

"Oh, let them come," exclaimed Mrs. Bardell frantically; "I'll never leave you, dear, kind, good soul;" and with these words Mrs. Bardell clung the tighter.

"Mercy upon me," said Mr. Pickwick, struggling violently, "I hear somebody coming up the stairs. Don't, do n't, there's a good creature, do n't." But entreaty and remonstrance were alike unavailing; for Mrs. Bardell had fainted in Mr. Pickwick's arms; and before he could gain time to deposit her on a chair Master Bardell entered the room, ushering in Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass.

Mr. Pickwick was struck motionless-and-speechless. He stood with his lovely burden in his arms, gazing vacantly on the countenances of his friends, without the slightest attempt at recognition—or explanation. They, in their turn, stared at him; and Master Bardell, in his turn, stared—at every body.

The astonishment of the Pickwickians was so absorbing, and the perplexity of Mr. Pickwick was so extreme, that they might have remained in exactly the same relative situations until the suspended animation of the lady was restored had it not been for a most beautiful and touching expression of filial affection on the part of her youthful son. Clad in a tight suit of corduroy, spangled with brass buttons of a very considerable size, he at first stood at the door astounded and uncertain; but by degrees the impression that his mother must have suffered some personal damage pervaded his partially developed mind, and, considering Mr. Pickwick as the aggressor, he set up an appalling and semi-earthly kind of howling, and butting forward with his head commenced assailing that immortal gentleman about the back and legs with such blows and pinches as the strength of his arm and the violence of his excitement allowed.

"Take this little villain away," said the agonized Mr. Pickwick; "he's mad."

"What is the matter?" said the three tongue-tied Pickwickians.

"I don't know," replied Mr. Pickwick, pettishly. "Take away the boy-" (here Mr. Winkle carried the interesting boy, screaming and struggling, to the farther end of the apartment).-"Now help me to lead this woman down stairs." "Oh, I am better now," said Mrs. Bardell, faintly.

"Let me lead you down stairs," said the ever-gallant Mr. Tupman. "Thank you, sir-thank you!" exclaimed Mrs. Bardell, hysterically. And down stairs she was led accordingly, accompanied by her affectionate son.

"I can not conceive," said Mr. Pickwick, when his friend returned-"I can not conceive-what has been the matter with that woman. I had merely announced to her my intention of keeping a man-servant, when she fell into the extraordinary paroxysm in which you found her. Very extraordinary thing."

"Very," said his three friends.

"Placed me in such an extremely awkward situation," continued Mr. Pickwick.

"VERY!" was the reply of his followers, as they coughed slightly, and looked dubiously at each other.

This behavior was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He remarked their incredulity. They evidently suspected him.

"There is a man in the passage now," said Mr. Tupman.

"It's the man that I spoke to you about," said Mr. Pickwick.

"I sent

for him to the Borough this morning. Have the goodness to call him up, Snodgrass."

Mr. Snodgrass did as he was desired; and Mr. Samuel Weller forthwith presented himself.

With illustration simple, yet profound, and with unfaltering zeal,
He spake from a warm heart, and made even cold hearts feel;
This is eloquence; 't is the intense,

Impassioned fervor of a mind, deep fraught
With native energy, when soul, and sense

Burst forth, embodied in the burning thought;
When look, emotion, tone, and all combine;
When the whole man is eloquent with mind;
A form that comes not to the call or quest,

But from the gifted soul, and the deep-feeling breast.

VI.-MARCO BOZZARIS. HALLECK.

At midnight, in his guarded tent,
The Turk was dreaming of the hour
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at his power;

In dreams through camp and court he bore
The trophies of a conqueror;

In dreams his song of triumph heard:
Then wore his monarch's signet-ring;

Then pressed that monarch's throne,—a king;
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,

As Eden's garden bird.

At midnight, in the forest shades,

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band,

True as the steel of their tried blades,

Heroes in heart and hand.

There had the Persian's thousands stood;
There had the glad earth drunk their blood

On old Platea's day;

And now there breathed that haunted air

The sons of sires who conquered there,

With arm to strike, and soul to dare,

As quick, as far as they.