That true love runs not smooth as oil-- Last Friday week we had a broil. Genteel apartments I have got, The first floor down the chimney-pot; Mount Pleasant! for my love and me-- And soon one pair shall walk up three! “Gentlemen,” said Uncle Timothy, as he bade us good night, “the rogue, I fear, will be the spoil of you, as he hath been of me!” CHAPTER III. |With the fullest intention to rise early the next morning, without deliberating for a mortal half-hour whether or not to turn round and take t' other nap, we retired to a tranquil pillow. But what are all our good intentions? Vexations, vanities, inventions! Macadamizing what?--a certain spot, To ears polite” politeness never mentions-- Tattoos, t' amuse, from empty drums. Ah! who time's spectacles shall borrow? And say, be gay to-day--to-morrow-- When query if to-morrow comes. To-morrow came; so did to-morrow's bright sun; and so did Mr. Bosky's brisk knock. Good report always preceded Mr. Bosky, like the bounce with which champagne sends its cork out of the bottle! But (there are two sides of the question to be considered--the _inside_ of the bed and the _out!_) they found us in much such a brown study as we have just described. Leaving the Lauréat to enjoy his triumph of punctuality, (an “alderman's virtue!”) we lost no time in equipping ourselves, and were soon seated with him at breakfast. He was in the happiest spirits. “'Tis your birthday, Eugenio! Wear this ring for my sake; let it be friendship's * talisman to unite our hearts in one. Here,” presenting some tablets beautifully wrought, “is Uncle Timothy's offering. Mark,” pointing to the following inscription engraved on the cover, “by what poetical alchemy he hath transmuted the silver into gold!” * Bonaparte did not believe in friendship: “Friendship is but a word. I love no one--no, not even my brothers; Joseph, perhaps, a little. Still, if I do love him, it is from habit, because he is the eldest of us. Duroc! Yes, Mm I certainly love: but why? His character suits me: he is cold, severe, unfeeling; and then, Duroc never weeps!” Bonaparte counted his fortunate days by his victories, Titus by his good actions. “Friendship, peculiar boon of Heaven, The noble mind's delight and pride, To men and angels only given, To all the lower world denied.”--Dr. Johnson. Life is short, the wings of time Bear away our early prime, Swift with them our spirits fly, The heart grows chill, and dim the eye.---- Seize the moment I snatch the treasure! Sober haste is wisdom's leisure.