by the softening influence of tobacco, requested him to 'fire away.' "Sam dipped his pen into the ink, to be ready for any corrections, and began, with a very theatrical air, "Stop,' said Mr. Weller, ringing the bell. 'A double glass o' the inwariable, my dear.' "Very well, sir,' replied the girl, who with great quickness appeared, vanished, returned, and disappeared. "They seem to know your ways here,' observed Sam. "Yes,' replied his father: 'I've been here before in my time. Go on, Sammy.' 66666 Lovely creetur," repeated Sam. """Tain't in poetry, is it?' interposed his father. "No, no,' replied Sam. 666 6 Wery glad to hear it,' said Mr. Weller. Poetry's unnat'ral: no man ever talked poetry 'cept a beadle on boxin' day, or Warren's blackin', or Rowland's oil, or some o' them low fellows; never you let yourself down to talk poetry, my boy. Begin agin, Sammy.' "Mr. Weller resumed his pipe with a critical solemnity; and Sam once more commenced, and read as follows: 66666 Lovely creetur, i feel myself a dammed" "That ain't proper,' said Mr. Weller, taking his pipe from his mouth. 9 "No: it ain't "dammed," observed Sam, holding the letter up to the light, 'it's "shamed," - there's blot there, "I feel myself ashamed." "Wery good,' said Mr. Weller. Go on.' """Feel myself ashamed, and completely cir "— I forget what this here word is,' said Sam, scratching his head with the pen, in vain attempts to remember. 666 'Why don't you look at it, then?' inquired Mr. Weller. "So I am a lookin' at it,' replied Sam; but there's another blot. Here's a "c," and a "i," and a "d."" "Circumwented, p'haps,' suggested Mr. Weller. "No: it ain't that,' said Sam: ""circumscribed;" that's it.' "That ain't as good a word as circumwented, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller gravely. "Think not?' said Sam. "Nothin' like it,' replied his father. "But don't you think it means more?' inquired Sam. "Vell, p'raps it is a more tenderer word,' said Mr. Weller, after a moment's reflection. Go on, Sammy.' """Feel myself ashamed and completely circumscribed in a dressin' of you; for you are a nice gal, and nothin' but it.' "That's a wery pretty sentiment,' said the elder Mr. Weller, removing his pipe to make way for the remark. "Yes, I think it is rayther good,' observed Sam, highly flattered. "Wot I like in that 'ere style of writin," said the elder Mr. Weller, is, that there ain't no callin' names no Wenuses, nor nothin' o' that kind. Wot's the good o' callin' a young 'ooman a Wenus or a angel, Sammy?' "Ah! what, indeed?' replied Sam. "You might jist as well call her a griffin, or a unicorn, or a king's-arms at once, which is wery well known to be a collection o' fabulous animals,' added Mr. Weller. "Just as well,' replied Sam. “Drive on, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller. "Sam complied with the request, and proceeded as follows; his father continuing to smoke, with a mixed expression of wisdom and complacency which was particularly edifying. “Afore I see you, I thought all women was alike." "So they are,' observed the elder Mr. Weller parenthetically. But now," " continued Sam, 666 now I find what a reg'lar soft-headed, ink-red'lous turnip I must ha' been; for there ain't nobody like you, though I like you better than nothin' at all." I thought it best to make that rayther strong,' said Sam, looking up. “Mr. Weller nodded approvingly, and Sam resumed. ""So I take the privilidge of the day, Mary, my dear, -as the gen'l'm'n in difficulties did, ven he valked out of a Sunday,—to tell you, that, the first and only time I see you, your likeness was took on my hart in much quicker time and brighter colors than ever a likeness was took by the profeel macheen (wich p'raps you may have heerd on, Mary, my dear), altho' it does finish a portrait and put the frame and glass on complete, with a hook at the end to hang it up by, and all in two minutes and a quarter. “I am afeered that werges on the poetical, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller dubiously. "No, it don't,' replied Sam, reading on very quickly, to avoid contesting the point, 66666 Except of me, Mary, my dear, as your walentine, and think over what I've said. My dear Mary, I will now conclude." That's all,' said Sam. "That's rather a sudden pull-up, ain't it, Sammy?' inquired Mr. Weller. "Not a bit on it,' said Sam. 'She'll vish there wos more, and that's the great art o' letter-writin.' "Well,' said Mr. Weller, there's somethin' in that; and I wish your mother-in-law 'ud only conduct her conwersation on the same gen-teel principle. Ain't you agoin' to sign it?" "That's the difficulty,' said Sam. I don't know what to sign it.' 666 Sign it Veller,' said the oldest surviving proprietor of that name. "Won't do,' said Sam. 'Never sign a walentine with your own name.' 666 Sign it "Pickvick," then,' said Mr. Weller. It's a wery good name, and a easy one to spell.' "The wery thing,' said Sam. I could end with a werse: what do you think?' "I don't like it, Sam,' rejoined Mr. Weller. I never know'd a respectable coachman as wrote poetry, 'cept one, as made an affectin' copy o' werses the night afore he wos hung for highway robbery; and he was only a Cambervell man: so even that's no rule.' "But Sam was not to be dissuaded from the poetical idea that had occurred to him; so he signed the letter, "Your love-sick And, having folded it in a very intricate manner, squeezed a down-hill direction in one corner : 'To Mary, Housemaid, at Mr. Nupkins's Mayor's, Ipswich, Suffolk;' and put it into his pocket, wafered, and ready for the General Post." Among the old English customs which modern eyes look upon with contempt and displeasure, that of imprisonment for debt is one of the worst. In "Pickwick," the death in prison of one confined for years for debt is thus touchingly described : "I'm sorry to say that your landlord's wery bad tonight, sir,' said Roker, setting down the glass, and in |