gave timely warning to all his acquaintances that he was about to favour them with his own sentiments in his own style. One circumstance of his early life must be mentioned, as it may have given a bent to his mind in after years. At the early age of seventeen he had deserted his respectable and happy home, and found himself a private in a dragoon regiment. The act broke his father’s heart. So, having spent three years in that admirable school of morality, Jack purchased out, and returned to his young wife, as well as to the possession of a snug £400 a-year, which fell into his hands by hereditary descent. Constituted as his mind then was, his principles soon began to develope themselves, and to afford a strong contrast to those which had governed the actions of his father. That he shortly became dreaded by all his neighbours, may be admitted; that he would and did overreach every man with whom he had business transactions, was an admitted fact, because it was his own proud boast; and when checked by his friends for those admissions, he would boldly reply, “Ho! ho! woo-ood you have me tit-tit-too put my lil-lighted ca-handle under a bu-hushal?” But that he was hated, or even disrespected in consequence of his acts, has no foundation in reality. There was nothing mean or grovelling about his knavery--all was above-board, done in clear day-light. There was nothing selfish or avaricious about him; the glory of the deed was all he aimed at, for every body knew he would prefer gaining a pound by open imposition, to the receipt of ten by honourable means. He never used a soothing phrase to human being. He seemed to court the hostility of his species, yet that would not come; for notwithstanding his profane and coarse salutations, he had a humane heart, and a short time sufficed to unmask it. The poor never went hungry from his door, and a distressed acquaintance had a certain resource while there was a penny in the purse of _Snap Rivers_. He was as welcome to his cash as to his bitterest malediction, and that was ever ready for either friend or foe. But the insolent great man, or the would-be important, who aped a dignity to which he had no fair claim, was the object of his deep immitigable hate; with such he could hold no terms; and did such ever cross his path, he would plot for months till he would circumvent him in some shape. Did ever Shakspeare light on such a character? Yet, notwithstanding all these seeming contradictions, a single trait has not been here placed to his account that was not in a degree beyond description truly his.