We presume that the guards of mail-coaches, drovers who were going to the Monday's markets, watchmen of houses, newly-buried relations, and medical men attending Poor Law Unions, will be allowed a future opportunity of registering their names; for none of these individuals were ever known--at least we believe not--to sleep or abide one night in their houses. Are these hardworking and useful classes of society to be accounted as nothing--to be placed in a scale even beneath "persons sleeping over a stable or outhouse," who, although not worthy to be inserted along with their betters in the schedule, are, at all events allowed a paper to themselves? The care that arranged the manner of enumerating the population ought to have put forward plans for taking the census of the always-out-of-doors portion of the English on the night in question, hackney-coachmen included; and a space might, at the same time, have been appropriated in the schedule for "those who were not at home, but ought to have been." We will not dwell upon the material difference this important feature would have made to the calculations in many points. We give the commissioners a peep at the fallacy of their plans, and we leave it to them to remedy it. All we have to add, in conclusion is, that we sent in our own name according to the prescribed ordinance, but it was not ROCKET. [Illustration] LOVE'S MASQUERADING. BY LAMAN BLANCHARD. I. Love never less surprises Than when his tricks are tried; In vain are all disguises, Himself he cannot hide. He came, the Masquerader, To conscious Kate, one day, Attempting to persuade her; He then was--far away! "Ah Love!" she cried, unfearing, "Take any shape you will, Strange, distant, or endearing, This heart would know you still." II. Then Love came clad like Sorrow; His robe was dark as night; But like a golden morrow, Flash'd forth his forehead's light; She knew him, as with languor He play'd the wounded dove: Then fierce he frown'd--'twas Anger! But still she knew 'twas Love! III. Then came he wreathed like Pleasure; In vain he cried, "Rejoice!" And sang a laughing measure-- She knew him, by his voice. He tuned his tongue to railing, Performing Envy's task; His scowl was unavailing, She saw him--through his mask. IV. Like cloak'd Revenge then stealing, With poniard bare he came, His limbs, his looks, concealing-- Yet still he seem'd the same. Then he, his thoughts dissembling, With Jealousy's wild air, Stood raging, watching, trembling,-- Yet Love alone stood there. V. Next came he garb'd like Malice; Yet wore his cheek the rose, No poison crowns his chalice, With wine it overflows. And then as Joy, arrayed in Rare colours from above; He failed again--the maiden In Joy saw only Love! VI.