ADAMS AND GEE, PRINTERS, 23, MIDDLE STARST, CLOTH FAIR. E.G.

"Blake, too, seemed for a time to be awed out of his accustomed ridicule of the table-turners."

CHAPTER VIII.

OUR SET AND THE OTHER SET.

THE other set would scarcely be willing to acknowledge the fairness and correctness of the brief sketch of a few of their leading characters contained in the last chapter. They would unquestionably contend that some unfortunate traits of character were exaggerated, while other good qualities were ignored. Or they might consider the

VOL. V.-NEW SERIES.

individuals by no means the leading and fair representatives of their set. But what is the use of having sets, if we are not allowed to magnify the faults of our enemies, and extenuate the failings of our friends? And then the idea of anyone being fair and exact in the village of Tattletown! Why, if any one should be so insane as to sit calmly down and give each citizen his just dues as regards merit and demerit, he would be overwhelmed with execrations from both sets. Yes! he would be swallowed up, body and boots, with greater rapidity than the stragglers from the other set gobble down the refreshments at our dancing parties. Oh! if you only had seen Doctor Pole at Mrs. Maston's party stow away the wicked luxuries of life; surely nothing but a sewing machine could have repaired the splits in your sides. The party was evidently more worldly than the ethereal Doctor had anticipated, and nothing but the preparatory indications of the fleshpots of Egypt stealing up in such savory clouds from the basement could have detained the saint in that light-footed crowd. When the sound of the lively violin broke upon his astonished tympanum, his great, startled orbs of vision actually advanced an inch out of their sockets. His long neck and head stretched in an alarming manner upward, and twisted about in every direction, like a surprised sand-hill crane. His bone legs became very uneasy, and one of them inconsiderately abandoned the other, and commenced describing an evolution upon the carpet which resembled very much the fourth and fifth steps of a dancing master. Shocked at the glaring impropriety of the limb's behaviour, the doctor drew it quickly from the vortex of fashion, and remembering the scriptural recommendation in regard to refractory members, he laid it across the other leg, and endeavoured to saw it off with the back of his hand. But this handsaw effort proved to be a very tedious process, and in the mean time the foot of the other leg was beating time upon the floor to "old Jingle Foot's" music. Springing up from his chair with pious indignation, he stalked away towards the corner of the drawingroom most remote from the band; but his walking bones were evidently possessed with an evil spirit, for they kept his feet bounding and springing along with the elasticity of india-rubber. Mortified beyond expression at his unavailing efforts to triumph over the flesh-(he called his legs flesh)-he thrust the elastic feet into close confinement under a piano-stool, and discovering that his hands began to be infected with the spirit of twitching, he thrust them into his pockets. Alas! alas! his head, that thoughtful laboratory, in which he had so often analyzed the deleterious compounds of worldly pleasures-that pious head began to bob to Satan's fiddles. Mrs. Maston, observing his peculiar motions, said, “You seem to be very fond of music, doctor."

"Yes," he gasped through his clenched teeth; "it's very-very stimulating."

A grim smile of delight stole over his features when supper was announced, for though the conflict with the powers of darkness had not left him wholly unmutilated, the genius of his appetite bad stood faithfully by his side in the battle, and now reminded him that the soldier of truth must eat as well as fight. Shaking the last wicked kink out of his backsliding legs, he marched rapidly but grandly to the presence of roast turkey and stewed oysters, luxurious food of the Gentiles, but rendered proper for his palate under the injunction of asking no questions for conscience' sake.

To say that Doctor Pole ate heartily of the delicacies on Mrs. Maston's table would

convey a very inadequate idea of the execution done upon the viands. He devoured -he desolated--he undermined-he vanquished! Yea! he obliterated from the sight of men mountains of provisions, and oceans of coffee and cream! Our set were rather disposed to laugh at his depredations upon the substantials, but when the course of conquest led him in the direction of the ice cream and jellies, a desperate rush was made to intercept him and secure an allowance for the ladies. The hostess, alarmed lest her guests should be unable to secure sufficient for their supper, endeavoured to divert his attention by reminding him that on a side table was an abundance of confectionery, some of which he had better take home with him for his little children. Unfortunate, but amiable, lady! how faint was her conception of the magnitude and number of Dr. Pole's pockets! He turned with an approving smile, and, in the twinkling of an eye, transferred to the linen pockets inside his coat enough candy and fruit to ruin his two children's appetites for a month.. Then unfolding a red silk handkerchief, he quickly heaped upon it another supply, probably with a prospective eye to his children's children. Not content with this allowance, he sought for his long beaver hat, and filled that entirely full, as Harry Carter said, "for his children's children, even unto the fourth generation."

But we have unintentionally wandered off into a long description of this long individual, when we should have confined our remarks to a delineation of the beloved personages of our set. When we enter upon the delightful but delicate duty of sketching this varied and animated circle, a blush of pride naturally finds its way to our features at the recollection that these are "our jewels;" and we are disposed to spread ourselves, somewhat like a hen showing off her first brood of chickens. Not that we would wish it to be inferred from this fowl simile that our set are all of the tender age of chickenhood. Oh no! such a deduction from our words would leave the minds of our readers in an immense fog of error and misapprehension; for we are of all sizes, ages, and descriptions, from the neat and unique bantam, in its simplicity and white pantalets, to the dignified brown hen and the lofty Shanghai; from the modest young fowl just on the eve of leaving her maternal to the dressy topknot and the red-featured ·old ́cock; from the spruce little rooster, who has just won his golden spurs, to the advanced pullet, whose limbs begin to look gaunt, and whose feathers are coming out in spots. We are a gay, prosperous-looking brood, and we lay plans daily, and hatch up fun every few weeks. But there is one weakness of the domestic bird to which we never give way; we never consider ourselves grand enough to rise with the sun. We regard this luminary as a glorious and exalted philanthropist, and we give him due precedence.

Mrs. Maston, one of the leaders of our set, will never see her fiftieth birthday again; but a very large number of persons, of every station in life, in Tattletown, hope that she will see her hundredth. The other set regard her quiet and easy manners, and the rarely varying expression of her features in society, as indicative of mental weakness, and lack of decided character. She sits quietly and apparently unconcerned at the whist table, sufficiently attentive to satisfy her partner, but seldom suffering herself to exhibit symptoms of excitement when all others are aroused and talkative. Her expression at such times is suggestive of long-suppressed and almost vanquished suffering. It may be the faded memory of a death, a wayward child, or physical uneasiness. When she smiles, she reminds one of a gentle