"Yes, mother, yes," said her son, "both of them spoke; and not only that, but Nap, the dog you were once so fond of, called after me to say, that we had no right to keep him tied up in that dismal yard, and that he would appeal to Parliament if we did not let him out. "My dear duchess," said the duke, who was even more alarmed at the spread of intelligence than her grace, "there is but one thing for us to do--let us pack up all we can, and if we can get a few well-disposed post-horses, before they get too much enlightened, to take us towards the coast, let us be off." What happened further, this historical fragment does not explain; but it is believed that the family escaped with their clothes and a few valuables, leaving their property in the possession of their assistants, who, by extending, with a liberal anxiety (natural in men who have become learned and great by similar means themselves), the benefits of enlightenment, in turn gave way to the superior claims of inferior animals, and were themselves compelled eventually to relinquish happiness, power, and tranquillity in favour of monkeys, horses, jackasses, dogs, and all manner of beasts. SUNDAY BILLS. We regret to see that a well-meaning gentleman of the name of Peter, is trying to get up a second edition of the exploded Agnew absurdity. Whatever the object of these efforts may be, it is clear that nothing can more effectually tend to array the country in two classes against each other,--the one of Atheists and Liberals, and the other of Puritans and Fanatics. How can a gentleman of honour, like Sir Andrew Agnew, prevail upon himself--we are quite sure he is too independent to permit any other person to prevail upon him--to declare in the House of Commons that all classes of operatives are anxious for the closest restrictions on the Sabbath which the House can enforce? It is not the case. As far as working goes, the operatives are at this moment entirely protected; no master can compel his journeymen to work on Sunday; and as for menial servants, they are excepted out of the bill. [Illustration: MULREADY ENVELOPE. [_See Hook's travestie on another page._]] Does Sir Andrew Agnew believe, or wish anybody else to believe, that the operatives want to be "cribbed, cabined, and confined" on a Sunday, debarred from their excursions to tea-gardens, their little voyages upon the river, their social pipes and ale, or to have their wives and sweethearts mulcted of their cakes and tea upon the only day in the week in which they can enjoy them? Does he really mean seriously to say that hard-working people, who for six consecutive days have been shut up to labour and toil, in heated rooms, in factories, or in gas-lit workshops, desire that they may be hindered from breathing the pure air on the seventh?