Young Brown and his two friends are at the "Planets" harmonic meeting, stating their intention not to return till morning--an useless proclamation, for it is impossible to do otherwise, now--they having been at the Casino, "getting their feet in," for the hop on Friday, as young Brown termed the practice of dancing. Mr. Spohf is in bed, but cannot sleep--so great is his pleasure,--Messrs. Blow and Grumble having patented "Spohf's new organ-movement." "A Happy New Year--and may you live to see many of them!"--The New Year is born with every characteristic of its defunct sire--seeming no better behaved (as some people would have little boys after a birthday or a breeching):--the old year died with a drizzle; and the young one, that everybody hoped promising, is born with the same attributes. Mr. Brown is at his post again--the parish lamp-post at the corner of the lane--awaiting the "Favourite" omnibus, that is to bear him to the City. He is trying to arrange the thousand and one little commissions he has to execute for Mrs. Brown. How many he remembered or forgot we know not; but that day he purchased a fair blank Diary--the stationer who sold it not only wishing him "a Happy New Year," but that he might "live to fill fifty such:"--a wish that made Mr. Brown very contemplative--thinking 18,250 entries no joke;--of many bright, bright days of pleasure; two score and ten of birthdays; half a century of weddings, anniversaries, and deaths--let us hope of peaceful, happy deaths,--for clouds will sometimes gather, darkening the brightest sky; but, thank Heaven, there is plenty of sunshine for those who seek it--ay, to find it, too, though it be midnight and beside a kitchen-fire. Of this new Diary the first page is penned with more care than usual--as all first pages are:--there the De Camp dynasty reign in confidence; and it is evident that Mr. Brown anticipates a glorious future.