"What's in a name?" Ask that beautiful inconsolable creature, his widow, who, at the age of twenty-three, finds she is once more mistress of herself, and of her dear Sir Toby's worldly possessions besides. As these were supposed to be infinite, can it be imagined that we will attempt to set down in round numbers what is inconceivable, and, consequently, without a name? But see:--there is a staid, solemn, business-looking personage, just stept out of her boudoir,--Peter Smyrk, the man of business, a kind of lurcher to the late Sir Toby. She is at present too inconsolable to receive him. Perhaps he might inform you--you perceive by his impatience and disappointment he is most anxious to do so. She, poor creature! could not be supposed interested in such details, who was only a few days ago on the very brink of the grave--(for she accompanied the remains of the good Sir Toby to the churchyard). It was about a fortnight after the death of good Sir Toby that his disconsolate widow felt reconciled to her mourning and "the novelty of her situation." Absorbed in thoughts about her own sweet person, and busy with reflections--such as her mirror gave,--the important Peter Smyrk was announced. The sweetest voice in the city welcomed Peter Smyrk. "Very happy to see you, madam; but still sincerely sorry----" "Pray, Mr. Smyrk, don't revive a subject so painful to me. Sir Toby was a good man: I shall never--ne-ver forget----" And tears such us angels--or widows--weep, coursed down her cheek. "I'm sure not, madam; and I must entreat you to believe how sincerely I sympathise with you on your loss, and how very sorry I am to be----" "Ah! you are very--very good, Mr. Smyrk--very considerate; so was the good Sir Toby. But these papers----" "--Will, I fear, madam, but create fresh sorrow. In fact----" "Very true, Mr. Smyrk; anything that reminds me of that good old man causes my sorrows to flow afresh." "In truth, madam," said the sympathising man of business, "there _is_ something in these papers to cause just and deserving regret,--but still very little to remind you of him;--he has left you but 500_l._ All the rest of his property goes to his nephew." "What! all?" exclaimed the relict of Sir Toby Plum. "All, madam;--everything." "Then I am the----" But the pillows of her ottoman only knew, as she buried her face in them, the superlative degree of misery to which she said she was consigned by the too prudent Sir Toby.