What though with thee come Lear, himself a storm Of wilder'd passion, and the musing Dane, The gallant Harry and his warrior-train, Brutus, Macbeth, and truth in many a form Towering! not therefore only that we warm With hope and praise; but that thy glorious part Is now to raise the Actor's trampled Art, And drive from out its temple a loose swarm Of things vice-nurtured--from the Porch and Shrine! And know, Macready, midst the desert there, That soon shall bloom a garden, swells a mine Of wealth no less than honour--both most bare To meaner enterprise. Let that be thine-- Who knowest how to risk, and how to share! L. B. Hereupon, a bard started up in the very remotest corner, and interposed in favour of the epigram, seeing that such oddities as sonnets and enigmas were allowed to pass current. Immediately, and by unanimous invitation, he produced some lines written in the album of a fair damsel, whose sire has but one leg, and complains of torture in the toes that he has not. "The heart that has been spurn'd by you Can never dream of love again, Save as old soldiers do of pain In limbs they left at Waterloo." We expressed our acknowledgments, and then heaved a sigh to the memory of an old friend, who, having suffered from the gout before his limb was amputated, felt all the pain, just as usual, at the extremity of his wooden leg, which was regularly flannelled up and rubbed as its living predecessor used to be. But here our reflections were broken off by a stoppage, as if instinctively, at a chemist's shop, the door of which, standing open, afforded a fair view of the scene which follows. On the subject of hom[oe]opathy we profess to hold no opinion; but, considering that it prescribes next to nothing to its patients, it must be an excellent system for a man who has next to nothing the matter with him. It is comical, at all events, to think of a doctor of that school literally carrying his "shop" in his pocket, and compressing the whole science of medicine into the smallest Lilliputian nut-shell. Imagine a little customer going with A LARGE ORDER TO A HOMOEOPATHIC APOTHECARY. [Illustration] _Little Girl._ "Please, sir, I want the hundred-thousandth part of a grain of magnesia." _Young Chemist_ (Whose hair would certainly stand on end, were it not so tightly pommaded down, at the simplicity of the little innocent in asking for as much medicine as would kill or cure a whole regiment of soldiers). "Very sorry, miss, but we don't sell anything in such large quantities; you had better apply at Apothecaries' Hall." And he follows her to the shop-door to see whether she had brought with her a hackney-coach or a van to carry away the commodity she had inquired for! * * * * * _Driver._ I say, Tom, here's that there elderly lady a coming, as wanted to go with us at our first start.