The 5th of January seemed to Brown as if it would never dawn!--The bump that took away and restored his senses, or, rather, sobered that gentleman, feels like an egg placed in the centre of his forehead--he longs for daylight, to examine it:--daylight, that comes, and reduces the egg to a walnut-shell!--Poor Brown's hat will not go on, for the excrescence, so he cannot go to church. At breakfast he recounts his dream--which is voted fudge by Mamma, stuff by Angelina, and rubbish by Jemima; for they are in no very good humour after the excitement of last week. Little Tom is in bed, having broken his fast upon jalap, administered to counteract the baneful effects of the sweets consumed yesterday--the youth being full as a sack of sand; and, we think, could an anatomist have given a section of the different strata of food that body contained, in the spirit of a geologist, he would have presented a remarkable series of deposits. But, away with scientific speculations, to the Browns, who are at breakfast--a meal that has been intruded upon by John; who has recounted enough of a certain story to put Jemima in hysterics, and Angelina in a fainting fit--bringing down a hurricane of abuse upon him--John, the impertinent menial--John, the venomous viper, that has recoiled upon its benefactor--John, the dark villain, that has plotted with the unworthy man, Spohf, who, of course, out of mere envy, mere spite, mere jealousy, would try to overturn that harmony that is not to be broken so easily--that unity that is not to be severed, no, not for a hundred Spohfs! "Go--go, sir, to your fiddling garret-friend--go and blow his hurdigurdy!--Go, sir!--Tell him the affections of innocent females are not to be played upon like a _base vile_!--Tell him there are ears to pull, horsewhips to be had, ay, and noble gentlemen ever ready to lay on in defence of those scandalously reviled! You may tremble, sir, for menials can be discharged, and have characters to lose! Sir, I give you warning!--Sir, you may go!--Go, sir!" Now, this is the very thing John much wished to do:--he had been imperceptibly backing, for the last five minutes, towards the door, fearing to turn tail upon the enemy--the choleric Mr. and Mrs. Brown; who appeared, in their very fierceness, to counteract each other's fire--each pulling the other back, seeming to get more and more ferocious the nearer their victim gained the door,--for, when the baited John reached it, he turned the handle of the lock behind him, still facing his antagonists, intending to escape by a side lurch; but, just at that critical point, there came a knock of great importance at the outer door, as if the chimney were on fire, or a baby half out of window:--the enemy fell back--John opened the door, and, lo!--There discovered an officer of the Police Force, who wanted a word with John Brown!--John, feeling himself the Brown wanted, retreats into the kitchen, where he faints away, in a plate-basket, and stops the Dutch clock.