hold of, was a bottle of their Champagne, which was really very tolerable Perry. Our dinner did. not, however, pass over without the usual accompaniment of much uproariousness from the room above, which the sweet young family continued to occupy, and Betty was every five minutes despatched from the dining-room to still "the dreadful pother o'er our heads."

Lord Byron says,

66

a fine family's a fine thing,

Provided they don't come in after dinner,"

and I agree with him; especially in the proviso. At my friend George's, however, the young family was introduced with the dessert. The eldest, a wide-mouthed, round-shouldered girl, took possession of the better half of my chair; where she amused herself the greater part of the evening by picking cherries out of my plate, and spitting the stones into it. The sweet innocent whose sex I had aspersed, filled, and well filled, the arms of Mamma; and two greedy, greasy boys stood one on each side of my worthy host. These contrived to entertain themselves in a variety of ways: putting their fingers into the preserves; drinking out of their father's wine glass; eating till their sto

machs were crammed to satiety, and bellowing out bravely for more. As a variety, we were occasionally treated with crying, scolding, and threats of a whipping, which operation I at one time positively expected to see performed in my presence. At length the Lady and the "family" retired, and amidst boasting of his happiness on George's part, and felicitations on mine, we continued to ply the bottle. Rather to my surprise, I found that the Port-wine was admirable, but poor George, as I afterwards learned, had sent for two or three bottles from a neighbouring Tavern, for which he had paid an admirable price. After emptying the decanters on the table, I found that I had had enough, and proposed joining the interesting domestic group up stairs. In consequence, however, of my friend being very pressing, and of my being "nothing loath," I consented that another bottle should be broached. The order to that effect being speedily communicated to Betty, she met it with the astounding reply, "There is no more, Sir." Although I told my friend that I was glad of it, and that I had drank quite sufficient, his chagrin was manifest. He assured me that although his wine-cellar was exhausted, he had plenty of spirits and cigars, of which he proposed that we should

immediately avail ourselves. To this, however, I positively objected, especially as I knew that the ci-devant journey-woman Milliner, considered smoking ungenteel.

I have but little more to tell you; we adjourned to the tea-table, where nothing passed worth recording. The family was again introduced, for the purpose of kissing all round, previous to their retirement to bed. "Kiss the gentleman, Amy," said the Lady; "and Betty, wipe her face first: how can you take her to the gentleman in such a state?" Betty having performed this very requisite operation, I underwent the required penance from one and all, with the heroism of a martyr. Shortly afterwards I took leave of my worthy host and hostess, and experienced a heartfelt delight when I heard the door close behind me. I am not in the habit, like Sterne, of falling down on my knees in the streets, or clasping my hands with delight, in a crowded highway. Still I could not help feeling, that few as were my positive causes of rejoicing, I was not devoid of some negative ones; and, above all, I felicitated myself, that I was not the happiest fellow in the world; that I had not married a journey-woman Milliner; and that I was not blessed with a sweet

young family as my recent experience of the latter comfort had induced me to think that King Herod was really not quite so cruel as I had hitherto considered him.

"NEWS OF LITERATURE," 1826,

THE COMET.

A FEW years ago at the little fishing town, or rather village, of G., on the coast of Cornwall, resided a gentleman, who, from his appearance, might be estimated to be nearly sixty years of age; though I have since learned that he was not more than forty. Whatever his age might be, he was more than suspected to be the old gentleman; that is to say, no other than the Devil himself. Now I, who happened to be obliged, for the arrangement of some family affairs, to reside a month or two at G., had the misfortune to differ from my worthy neighbours as to the identity of the occupant of the old Manor-house, with the enemy of mankind. In the first place, his dress bore no sort of resemblance to that of Beelzebub. The last person who had the good fortune to get a glimpse of the real Devil was the late Professor Porson, and he has taken the pains to describe his