"Oh father! oh father! that rum cove d'ye twig? He looks so hard at me--he knows I'm a Prig! To hook it, and mizzle, my best way would be." "No, stoopid, that cove ain't no crusher--not he." "Oh father! oh father! he keeps looking here; He's coming to nab me--that 'ere blessed Peer; It is the Earl-King with his Book and his School." "No, no, 'tis some pantiler only, you fool." "Hi! wilt thou come with me, neglected young wretch? I'll shield thee, I'll save thee, from gaol and JACK KETCH, In work and in study thy time I'll employ, And feed thee, and clothe thee, and teach thee, my boy." "Oh father! oh father! you'd best let me go; There's the Earl-King's new Hact; and they'll take me, I know: And you'll have to fork out too, yourself, by and by." "Oh gammon, oh gammon! that 'ere's all my eye."' "Come, come, and be taught, you young varlet, I say, Or else, silly child, I shall walk thee away." "Oh father! oh father! I know'd I was right: The Earl-King has grabbed me!--got hold of me tight." The nice father put down his pipe and his pot, And around him, bewildered, he stared like a sot: "Hallo! you young beggar, vere are yer?" he said. But the poor boy to school with the Earl-King had fled! * * * * * OUR HONEYMOON. SATURDAY, MAY 25, 18-- I cannot but confess it--I felt hurt, twitted by the easiness, the unconcern of FRED. Of course I should have thought it very foolish, nay, worse in him, to be jealous. That would have been ridiculous, unworthy of him. Nevertheless, I could not help endeavouring to place myself in his situation--to enter into the feelings of a husband, and to think myself a man! That a letter--and such a letter--should have been sent to me, was, of course, a mistake. But, for all that--putting myself in the place of a man and a husband--for that was, of course, the most reasonable and the most natural way for a woman to come to a right conclusion--I could not have been so calm, so tranquil, I may, indeed, say--so stone-cold. Indeed, judging, moreover, from my own feelings as a woman and a wife, it would have been impossible: not that I'm of a jealous habit of mind. No, certainly; I should say, quite the reverse. Still, it is quite plain, that if we really value and love a thing--we must be anxious accordingly. _That_ is but natural. Nevertheless, I cannot disguise it from myself that FRED--even after he had handed me the letter to read, and I--all in a twitter I must say--had read it to him, did nothing but laugh. I've no doubt he was very right; and yet, if I know myself and I'd been in his place--I don't think I should have _laughed._ "Read the letter, LOTTY,"--cried FRED--"by all means read it; it may amuse us."