Houses in four straight lines, not a single front awry; You watch who crosses and gossips, who saunters,

who hurries by;

Green blinds, as a matter of course, to draw when the sun gets high;

And the shops with fanciful signs which are painted properly.

Ere you open your eyes in the city, the blessed churchbells begin;

No sooner the bells leave off than the diligence rattles

in;

You get the pick of the news, and it costs you never a

pin.

By and by there's the traveling doctor gives pills, lets blood, draws teeth;

Or the Pulcinello-trumpet breaks up the market beneath. At the post-office such a scene-picture- the new

play, piping hot!

And a notice how, only this morning, three liberal thieves were shot.

Above it, behold the Archbishop's most fatherly of rebukes,

And beneath, with his crown and his lion, some little new law of the Duke's!

Noon strikes, here sweeps the procession! our Lady borne smiling and smart

With a pink gauze gown all spangles, and seven swords stuck in her heart!

Bang-whang-whang goes the drum, tootle-te-tootle the

fife;

No keeping one's haunches still; it's the greatest pleasure in life.

But bless you, it's dear—it's dear! fowls, wine, at double the rate.

They have clapped a new tax upon salt, and what oil

pays passing the gate

It's a horror to think of. And so, the villa for me, not the city!

Beggars can scarcely be choosers; but still ah, the pity, the pity!

Look, two and two go the priests, then the monks with cowls and sandals,

And the penitents dressed in white shirts, a-holding the yellow candles;

One, he carries a flag up straight, and another a cross with handles,

And the Duke's guard brings up the rear, for the better prevention of scandals;

Bang-whang-whang goes the drum, tootle-te-tootle the fife.

Oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life.

(BROWNING: Up at a Villa - Down in the City, As distinguished by an Italian person of quality)

LEARNING IN IDLENESS

Suffice it to say this: if a lad does not learn in the streets, it is because he has no faculty of learning. Nor is the truant always in the streets, for if he prefers, he may go out by the gardened suburbs into the country. He may pitch on some tuft of lilacs over a burn, and smoke innumerable pipes to the tune of the

water on the stones. A bird will sing in the thicket. And there he may fall into a vein of kindly thought, and see things in a new perspective. Why, if this be not education, what is? We may conceive Mr. Worldly Wiseman accosting such an one, and the conversation that should thereupon ensue :

"How now, young fellow, what dost thou here?" Truly, sir, I take mine ease."

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"Is not this the hour of the class? and should'st thou not be plying thy Book with diligence, to the end thou mayest obtain knowledge?"

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Nay, but thus also I follow after Learning, by your leave."

"Learning, quotha! After what fashion, I pray thee? Is it mathematics?"

"No, to be sure."

"Is it metaphysics?" "Nor that."

"Is it some language?"

"Nay, it is no language."
"Is it a trade? "

"Nor a trade neither."
"Why, then, what is it?"

“Indeed, sir, as a time may soon come for me to go upon a Pilgrimage, I am desirous to note what is commonly done by persons in my case, and where are the ugliest Sloughs and Thickets on the Road; as also, what manner of Staff is of the best service. Moreover, I lie here, by this water, to learn by root-of-heart a lesson which my master teaches me to call Peace or Contentment."

Hereupon Mr. Worldly Wiseman was much commoved with passion, and shaking his cane with a very threatful

countenance, broke forth in this wise: "Learning, quotha!" said he; "I would have all such rogues scourged by the Hangman!

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(STEVENSON: An Apology for Idlers)

AN UNWELCOME CHRISTMAS GREETING

"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.

"Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!"

He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Scrooge's that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.

"Christmas a humbug, uncle!" said Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean that, I am sure."

"I do," said Scrooge.

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Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough."

"Come, then," returned the nephew gaily. "What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough."

Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said "Bah!" again, and followed it up with "Humbug!"

"Don't be cross, uncle!" said the nephew.

"What else can I be," returned the uncle, "when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon Merry Christmas! What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, and not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books and having

every item in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will," said Scrooge, indignantly, "every idiot who goes about with Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!"

"Uncle!" pleaded his nephew.

"Nephew!" returned his uncle, sternly, " keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.” "Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew. "But you don't keep it."

"Much

"Let me leave it alone, then," said Scrooge. good may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!"

(DICKENS: A Christmas Carol)

GEORGE OSBORNE BERATES DOBBIN

"A pretty way you have managed the affair," said George, looking savagely at William Dobbin. "Look here, Dobbin," and he flung over to the latter his parent's letter. "A beggar, by Jove, and all in consequence of my deuced sentimentality. Why couldn't we have waited? A ball might have done for me in the course of the war, and may still, and how will Emmy be bettered by being left a beggar's widow? It was all your doing. You were never easy until you had got me married and ruined. What the deuce am I to do with two thousand pounds? Such a sum won't last two years. I've lost a hundred and forty to Crawley at cards and billiards since I've been down here. A pretty manager of a man's affairs you are, forsooth."

"There's no denying that the position is a hard one," Dobbin replied, after reading over the letter with a blank