The captain threw out his rough hand, and gave his newlyintroduced acquaintance a warm shake. The lapidary grace.fully raised his hat from his well-combed hair, and slightly motioned his head, acknowledging the honour of the introduction. After some common-place observations about the heat of the weather, the dulness of the times, and the number of persons leaving the city, the usual "good-bye" was reciprocally passed between them, and the captain and his friend turned away.

"You called him a lapidary, didn't you?" said the captain to his friend.

"Certainly I did," replied his friend, who is a wag in his

way.

"Now I wonder," said the captain, "what value he would set on this diamond pin of mine. I have submitted it to the inspection of several judges, and they all differ in fixing its value."

"Well, said his friend, "he is there yet, and we'll step and ask him."

Up they again went to the lapidary, and the mutual friend thus introduced the subject.

"Mr. Lapidary, my friend, the captain here, has got, as you may perceive, a very valuable diamond pin. He wishes you to examine it, and say in your opinion what it is worth."

Here the friend fell back a pace or two behind the captain, gave a short influenza kind of cough, to attract the notice of the lapidary, and having succeeded, he then commenced working gyrations with his fingers, his thumb resting on the apex of his nose, as much as to say, "Aint you up to gammon?" The lapidary, who is a regularly initiated member of the Sawyer's Company, was at once "up to gammon," and forthwith proceeded to carry out the intention of his quizzical friend.

"Well, captain," said the lapidary, in a very self-sufficient tone, eyeing very critically, at the same time, the pin-" well, captain, I can't perhaps, exactly say. I have not got my microscopic glass with me just now; but your pin, viewing it with the naked eye, seems to be of very pure water-very pure, indeed! Let me see! Is that a flaw I discover in it! It is! Ah!-no, no-it is not. Why, captain, I should have no hesitation in giving $300 for that pin myself."

"Ah, yes; thank you," said the captain-" but I don't mean to sell it." And then, in a whisper to his friend he

THE LAPIDARY AND THE SEA-CAPTAIN.

79

added: "Why, what do you think a swindler in Chartres street offered me for it?-only ten dollars!"

"Mr. Lapidary," said the mutual friend, seeing that the candid captain was fairly caught, and wishing to enlarge on the joke Mr. Lapidary, you have a very large collection of stones, have you not?"

"Why, yes, rather a large collection," said the lapidary, tipping the end of his cane against his chin-" rather large, but not so great a variety as I could wish!”

"My friend, the captain here," rejoined the wag, is quite an amateur in your line: he has a pretty extensive collection of minerals himself. I have no doubt but he should like to take a peep at your cabinet." ["Here's a precious saw!" aside.] "Nothing would give me greater pleasure," said the captain: "indeed I make it a point wherever I go of seeing curiosities in that way."

"Well, let me see," said the lapidary-" this evening,-Oh, I have made an appointment to meet a gentleman this evening;-to-morrow,-to-morrow evening I go to the lake. Meet me here at five o'clock on the evening after to-morrow, and I'll show you my collection, such as it is. As far as quantity goes, I make my boast of being exceeded by few on this side of Mason and Dixon's line, at least; but it is not for me, who have had the selection of them, to speak of their quality."

The captain expressed a thousand thanks to the lapidary for his politeness, from whom he parted, promising to be punctual in his attendance at the appointed meeting, and chuckling in the anticipation of seeing on the evening following the next, the lapidary's extensive collection of precious

stones!

The time of appointment came, and there was the captain, punctual to the minute; and there, soon afterwards, came the lapidary and the friend of each. A "How d'ye do" passed: they liquored, and then proceeded to review the precious gems of the lapidary. The course, as laid down on the chart by the latter, was down towards the rear of the city, through Common street. They chatted on various topics until they came near the Charity Hospital, where a very large heap of paving stones occupied the centre of the street.

"What a very large heap of stones!" said the lapidary. "Very," said the captain, "but worth little or nothing: I frequently bring them from the east as ballast."

"What an instructive science is geology," said the lapidary.

"Now I have not a doubt but it could be proved, by one who well understands it, that that opaque, speckled stone there is the petrified egg of some large antediluvian bird-a species of the American eagle, perhaps; and there is that one, of a partially flat form-that may be of submarine origin-a petrified turtle, for aught we know!"

66

"O, it may be an ossified Indian papoose, for all I care, Mr. Lapidary," said the captain, somewhat pettishly, who felt annoyed at being kept so long from seeing the rare cabinet; and pulling out his watch he added, "it is now half past six o'clock, and if you permit me to see your collection of precious stones, as you promised to do, it is time we should see them; for I must be back to the ship in half an hour."

66

"Why, captain, my friend," said the lapidary, "I don't understand you. You requested that I would show you my collection of stones. I told you I would, remarking at the same time that I could boast of their quantity, but would not say a word in praise of their quality,-You are now looking at them, and if your curiosity is not fully gratified, if you take a walk round with me to St. Peter street, I will show you a still larger heap!"

"Then, these are your collection of precious stones-your cabinet of jems!" said the captain, in a tone that acknowledged he had been sawed.

"They are," said the lapidary.

"Enough," said the captain, "I'm hoaxed, gloriously hoaxed. I acknowledge the corn. I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Lapidary, if I ever find that you tell the story to man or mortal, I'll macadamize-I'll pulverise every bone in your body-l will!"

The captain forgot to extort a pledge of secrecy from the "mutual friend" who witnessed the whole transaction. He told it to us as we have told it to our readers.

THE POET SPOUSE.

CLEMANTHE CRIBS and Christopher Cribs appeared yesterday in the police court on the charge of disturbing the peace. Clemanthe had an air of negligent intellectuality about her. Her face was angular-her features even sharp; her eyes bore a poetic brightness; she had long fingers and a handsome,

aristocratic kind of hands, but they were not very clean; she wore boots made to lace at the sides, but as she omitted to lace them, they hung over her ankles like a player's buskins; her dress was of faded black silk, with several red, mouldy spots in it, and she wore her bonnet back off her forehead in an ill-adjusted manner.

Christopher Cribs was a small, smooth-faced, passive-looking personage one of those whom nature intended for a member of the peace society, but whom chance at times exposes to scenes of domestic disquietude.

"Yes," said Mrs. Cribs, as we entered the court, "I may thank you-you, you unfeeling-cruelly unkind man; I may thank you for it all." And she shook her parasol in Crib's face in a manner indicative of revenge, adding, in tones suitably pathetic

"This is the deepest of my woes;

For this these tears my cheeks bedew;
This is of love the final close;

Oh, God, the fondest, last adieu!"

"Clemanthe, my dear," said Mr. Cribs, in an assuaging, soothing tone, "be silent till we leave this, or we'll be put in the papers-perhaps in the calaboose."

"Cribs," said Mrs. C.,-" Cribs, don't speak to me—don't drive me mad. What do you know about the papers? You know-you well know that I have contributed to the poetical department of both the dailies and the magazines. Then why would one like you-without soul, without sentimenton whose mind no ray of the Promethean spark ever shed its lustre-who are an utter stranger to

'The elegance, facility and golden cadence of poesy

Heaven bred poesy!'

Why I ask, should you offer such an insult to me in a public court as to speak to me of poetry."

"What's the matter with that woman?" said the Recorder. Policeman." That's 'zactly the way she was carryin' on last night when I 'rested her she's a screamer, your honour, I tell you."

Christopher Cribs, (with one of his usual insinuating smiles,) "O, it aint nothin', your honour; it was Mrs. Cribs here, just a talkin' to me. She's a werry good woman, sir, and werry intellectual and

as was

Mrs. Cribs.-"Cribs, I command you to be silent; don't expose your ignorance-don't, I say. Will the court call on this

illiterate individual to cease annoying me? O, Cribs! had we

"Never met, or had we parted,

I had ne'er been broken hearted."

Recorder." Will any one tell me what this woman is saying?"

Mr. Cribs." Nothin' in the vide vorld, your honour. Mrs. Cribs Clem, I calls her, for love and shortness-Clem is one of the most lovingest wives as I ever knowed on. She aint got no fault, but that she's too fond of poetry books, and instead of mindin' her waking babe-little Tommy, the blessedest infant you ever seed-she keeps writin' sonnets to 'a sleepin' babe;' and t'other day, when I brought home some fust rate croackers from the lake, and told her to dress them for dinner, instead of doin' it she sat down-'cause she said the inspiration was on her-and she began writin' lines 'To a dead fish found on the strand;' and kept at it till the dead fish which she might find in the basket were spoiled. Well, I s'pose the poetry on the dead fish was all very good, for Clem said it was; but I'd be a better judge of the fish in the basket, if she had done them up for my dinner, instead of doin? up the poetry. When I told her I was gettin' right hungry, she says, says she,Cribs, have patience, you woracious wagabond; you see I'm preparin' an intellectual feast.' Yes, said I, but Clem, my love, it'll be a feast arter a famine, for I'm right hungry now. It won't be the feast of reason, neither, for there aint no reason in fastin' for the sake of poetry."

"Cribs," said Mrs. C., her eye in a fine frenzy rolling"Cribs, you're an ingrate-a deceiver-a false one! You knew when you plighted to me your eternal truth and undying constancy-you knew my passion for poetry, my love of literature, my admiration for the romantic;-but 'tis over!"The charm is broken! Once betrayed,

Oh, never can my heart rely

On word or look, on oath or sigh!

Take back the gifts, so sweetly giv'n

With promis'd faith and vows to Heav'n."

Recorder. "O,I cannot be annoyed with this poetical woman and her fish-fond husband. Send them out of the court, and if brought up here again they shall find bail that they will not in future disturb the neighbourhood in which they live."

Cribs left the office, supplicating the amiable Mrs. C. for forgiveness, which she seemed very adverse to granting.