don't drive me mad, Titmarsh !-don't you talk to me about holding my tongue! How could any poor woman, with two twins, hold her tongue-that would have such a husbandsuch a hypocrite of a husband, I may say, as you are? O,

you

وو

Recorder. "I must hear, madam, why it was that you have been brought before me."

Mr. Titmarsh.- "It was all a mistake of the watchman, your honour. Mrs. Titmarsh was speaking to me about some domestic matter;-she has a habit of sometimes speaking rather loud; so the watchman, thinking we were disputing, or doing something worse, arrested us."

Mrs. Titmarsh." O, this is all very fine, Tit-very! I speak rather loud sometimes--do I? and of course you never give me occasion-not you!-harassed to death as I am, taking care of my eldest child and my two twins!"

Mr. Titmarsh.-"I never- ""

6

You

Mrs. Titmarsh.-" O, don't talk to me, Tit! I can't bear your duplicity. You never!' to be sure you never. never pretend to go to the temperance meeting, and instead of going there spend the night at the Bunch of Grapes' with your old pot companions, while me and my poor twins and eldest child sit lonely and desolate at home. You neverMr. Titmarsh.- Mrs. T., this is no place

وو

Mrs. Titmarsh.-O, of course! it's no place-any place is no place for me to open my mouth and let the public know the way a poor, heart-broken woman, as I a am, with my eldest child and two twins, is treated by you. It is no place, I suppose, to tell how, when you said you were at mother's the other night, you were at the Amphitheatre; but what did you care if little Tommy died of the whooping-cough ?—you wouldn't go to mother's for the cure--you'd rather go to see Madame Arraline dance the catchouca-of course you would; and you'd rather go to the lake to eat a soft-shell crab supper than take a comfortable cup of tea at home with your poor, heart-broken wife, her eldest boy and two twins. Yes, I was speaking loud, and I will speak loud, and I will———————”

Recorder. "That will do, madam, you may go, and so may Mr. Titmarsh."

The fact was, that while the batteries of Mrs. Titmarsh's volubility were levelled at poor "Tit," as she delighted to call him, the Recorder saw a neighbour of theirs in court, from whom he learned that the disturbance of the peace spoken of

THE SHAKSPEARIAN BOOT BLACK.

37

by the watchman, and for which they were arrested, was nothing more than one of her usual lectures spoken before the curtain, instead of beneath it.

THE SHAKSPEARIAN BOOT BLACK.

THERE is in one of our principal city hotels, a member of the masculine gender and genus Afric, who is a decided character, standing out in bold relief from those of his colour and kind, like a figure-head from the prow of a war frigate. He is of great muscular powers and athletic proportions, resembling, when he throws himself into one of his fancy attitudes, a bronzed statue of Hercules. He is a fellow of "infinite jest-of most excellent fancy," and quite an amateur in all that relates to theatricals. His voice is deep and sonorous as a diseased kettledrum, and tragedy is therefore his forte. He is eternally spouting Shakspeare, and he so humorously interlardes his replies to the questions propounded to him by his master's guests, that he is a perfect dyspepsia-dispeller, or laughter-provoking machine.

Here follows a dialogue which he held yesterday morning with one of the boarders.

About five o'clock A. M. the bell of No. 40 is vehemently rang, and immediately Cæsar is to be seen hastening along the corridor, with a brow as pregnant of deep intent as that which Macbeth wears when he crosses the stage to murder Duncan in his chamber. He enters the room and places himself in a deferential position to receive the orders of No. 40, who, by the way is a perfect exquisite.

No. 40.- Aw! Cesaw, is that you ?”

Casar, (in a treble base tone of voice.)" It is I, my lord!" But at once assuming his natural dialect-" Doesn't you want muffin, massa?"

No. 40.-"Cesaw, what o'clock is it?"

Cæsar.

"My lord, the early village cock,

Hath twice done salutation to the morn.'"

The negro again breaks out on him-" Fac, sir, it's considerable date; missus is from the market long time ago.”

No. 40.-" Cesaw! you aw a confounded boaw-let me have the mawnin' paper, fellow."

D

Cæsar." Sartin, massa; here's de Picayune-dat's got de news ob to-morrow in it-yaw! yaw!"

Here No. 40 looked interjections at Cæsar, and the latter fell back on his Shaksperian lore. He continued, handing him the paper

"Read over this,

And after this; and then to breakfast,

With what appetite you have.'

No. 40 eagerly surveys the columns of the paper in profound silence, and in vain seeks in it for "Lines to Eliza," which he contributed, but whose merit the editor had not the good sense to appreciate, and therefore consigned it to the barrel." He throws the paper down and involuntarily exclaims-"The die is cast-my fate is fixed!"

Cæsar, equally unconscious of No. 40's presence, soliloquizes

"There's something in his soul,

O'er which his melancholy sits on brood:
And I do doubt, the hatch, and the disclose
Will be some danger.'"

But the sable ranter becoming himself again adds—“ Look hea, massa, 'clar God, I believes you's 'fected wid what white folks calls de tender passions: you had better take sarsaparilla, or go ober de lake, right off."

Here the mellifluous voice of Biddy, the Hibernian housemaid, was heard kicking up a fuss generally on the stairs.— "Cayser! Cayser!" cried Biddy, "O, musha the divil burn you, you thirty-first cousin of owld Nick, yourself and your sheepskin wig; if you haven't the pride and assurance of Tom Donahoe's meel cow, that would'nt give milk till they put a pair of false horns on her, to be givin your shanahas to a gintleman in his room at this hour of the morning, instead of claynin the boots, Cayser!"

Casar, (in a dignified and tragic tone.)

"Who is it that calls on me?

I hear a tongue shriller than all the music

Cry Cæsar; speak! speak! Cæsar is turned to hear.''

Biddy." O, you japanned taypot that's for iver spoutin; come down and mind your wurk."

No. 40, who during this bit of by-play between Cæsar and Biddy, was wrapt up in his own reflections-whether he was thinking of his "Lines to Eliza," of Eliza herself, or of a morning beverage in the shape of a julep, is a mystery which

TOWERS IN TROUBLE.

39

is left for the development of after time; but certain it is that he said to Cæsar-" Fellow, go and quickly convey hither a julep awometic as the breath of morn."

"Ize de chil' to do dat, massa, in double shuffle time," said Cæsar, and closing the door, he proceeded to execute the order; but conceiving that No. 40, instead of labouring under a Platonic affection, as he first imagined, was slightly affected with the man with the poker from the previous night's debauch, he audibly uttered, a la Forrest, as he went down

What a thrice double ass

Was I, to take this drunkard for a lord in love,
And worship this dull fool."

"He aint got no music in his soul, and blam' me if I don't believe he aint got no money in his pus."

What passed between No. 40 and Cæsar when the latter returned with the julep, is noted down for another chapter.

TOWERS IN TROUBLE.

THE business of Recorder Baldwin's court would have passed off yesterday without any thing baving occurred, beyond the usual monotonous routine of "found drunk," "could give no account of himself," "disturbing the peace," ," "dangerous and suspicious," had not Mrs. Julia Smith made her appearance before the bench, and had she not been immediately followed by Mr. Thomas Towers. Mrs. S. was dressed in a suit of faded black calico, and wore a bonnet and veil to match. She held by either hand two pledges of the mutual affection which existed between herself and the late Mr. Smith, and occasionally took a pinch of rappee from a circular snuffbox. Mr. Towers sported a seedy snuff-coloured frock, a gray, low beaver, with a large black riband round it, and chamois gloves, which, from long use, had assumed a black polish. His two cheekbones formed two promontories in his face, and the ravages of the toothache left an indention in each of his jaws which resembled the interior of egg-cups. "My dear Mrs. S." said Mr. Towers, "we can settle this matter in an amicable way, without making the thing public, and having our names in the papers: do listen to advice.”

"I'll do no such a thing," said Mrs. Julia Smith, in a voice something like Old Corn Meal's falsetto-"I'll do no such a

thing; I'll let you see that you are not to abuse the children of my late, poor, dear man, Mr. Smith;" and the name of her "late, poor, dear man” seemed to conjure up

-departed joys Departed never to return;"

for she buried her face in her pocket handkerchief and sobbed most audibly.

"What's the matter with this woman?" said the Recorder. "O! I'm a poor lone widder, your honour," said Mrs. Smith, "and these are my horphans."

"Well, and what of that?" said the Recorder.

"Why, that this here man, Mr. Towers, has abused-actually struck the little dears, and gave me sas when I spoke to him about it."

"I pledge my honour to your honour," said Mr. Towers, placing his right hand over his left vest pocket--"I pledge you my honour, I have done no such thing; I merely took my specks from Tommy here, which he was tying round the head of the cat, lest he should break them."

"Yeth you did,"

," said the younger scion of the defunct Mr. Smith "yeth you did; and you pulled my ear thoo."

"Never mind, Tommy my dear, never mind," said Mrs. S., imparting the kiss of parental affection on the pouting lips of the miniature likeness of her late husband-" the Recorder will do us justice, Tommy."

"What is your complaint, madam ?" said the Recorder. "Why Lor' love your honour, assault and battery, to be sure!" said Mrs. S.

"State the nature of it,” said the Recorder.

Mrs. Smith.

pinch of snuff.)

"Why, as I was telling you,”—(she takes a

"You have told me nothing yet," said the Recorder. The Recorder consented that Mr. Towers should open the

case.

Here Mr. Towers adjusted the specks upon his thin nose, and begged the Recorder to listen to him and he would come to the point at once.

"Well then, sir,” said Mr. T., “the naked facts are these—” "O, did you ever!" ejaculated Mrs. Julia Smith, when she heard Mr. Towers use the phrase naked facts.

"The truth of the matter I say, sir, is this," continued Mr. Towers, "I am not long a resident in this city: I was looking