knowledge swallows them; for they are not to be found." Next morning Ichabod enters the Brown suit and service, having spent Boxing-night and the proceeds of the Christmas-piece at the play, where he saw "Jane Shore" and "Harlequin House that Jack built;" the plot and tricks of which he recounted to Master Tommy, as he took that young gentleman for a walk, inoculating him with a great desire to go and behold it. So, after having coaxed his mother, teased his father, and cried his lovely blue eyes into a good imitation of red veined marble, the youth triumphed; for on Thursday evening, they all went to the play in the fusty fly from Drone's yard, driven by old Drone, in his pepper-and-salt suit of pseudo livery, that looked as if he always brushed it with the currycomb; and so tindery about the breast, from the number of marriage-favours annually pinned there, that it is a wonder it holds together. Alphonso rode upon the box, giving the vehicle a certain amount of smartness. On their arrival under the dirt-embrowned portico of the theatre, they are cordially recognised by the De Camps; who, thinking it a pity the box should not be filled, have just dropped down to see "London Assurance"--intending to quit before the pantomime, but forgetting to do so after all. [Illustration] During the play, Master Tommy disposes of a vast quantity of oranges and sponge-cakes--vanishing between each act to obtain a fresh supply;--making butterflies of the bill, and causing the double-barrelled _lorgnette_ (which was hired for the occasion from an adjacent oyster-shop) to slip off the cushion, falling upon a bald gentleman in the pit:--the excited little pest remarking everything, and fairly shouting at the discovery of Alphonso below, until chid by his mother. Oh! that we could participate in thy youthful enthusiasm, or feel pleased at that hotch-potch--the overture; or, a thrill when the muffin-bell tinkles, causing the lovely drop-scene--that combined the grandeur of the pretty Parthenon with the sublimity of Virginia Water--to vanish into its own intensely blue sky; disclosing the "Harlequin House that Jack built," and Mr. John Bull's huge paste-board thick head, snoring like thunder, in a "property" summer-house--an elephantine blue-bottle on his proboscis, and a sleeping bull-dog, the size of an Alderney steer, at his feet;--here Master Brown, with a grin, calls the house Victoria Villa, and the paste-board mask his papa. Now enters the rat, to eat the good things that lay in the house that John built, represented by a stealthy seedy gentleman, who, after reading a board intimating that apartments were to let, crept slyly past the sleepy Bull, to mount the house-steps; and there deliver himself of the following doggerel, in a mellifluous voice:--