This, to be sure, might be attributed to the feeling that so many good regular people have, that it is highly blameable to pity any man who suffers capitally for a breach of the law; that it would be, in some sort, to question the justice of the laws themselves. And the ten or a dozen honest souls that formed the company were probably so good themselves as to be justly scandalized at the notion of holding so much communion with guilt, as to sympathize with it in its sufferings. But I believe, after all, it was rather a flow of idiom than an effort of principle. Mr. Small, a farmer, well to do in ----shire, fell ill of an acute and dangerous disorder. (By the by, every one was anxious to know if "poor" Mrs. Small's husband was better.) He died,--Mrs. Small was, of course, in decent affliction. But the word of pity was always transferred from the principal sufferer to her, till he was beyond suffering. Then first it was bestowed on the "poor" corpse, which every one came to visit, and flattered as looking "pleasant." Mrs. Small herself, in the first letter of her widowhood, addressed to an intimate female friend, did not make a more judicious application of the favourite epithet. To this friend it was her habit to write once a quarter. We insert three passages; one extracted from each of these quarterly epistles, which followed in due succession after her sad bereavement:-- "Dear Nelly,--My brother-in-law has given the direction of the funeral to a good economical undertaker, by name Peebles. I have not seen him, and am not like; for he is in too large a way to attend himself, and he sends his man for orders, and to see all done handsome, but cheap. "_Poor_ Mr. Peebles's man came here last night, and the funeral will be to-morrow. I am in much trouble, as might be expected. My _poor_ new black bonnet is not come home, and keeps me fretting; but _poor_ Peebles's man says I shan't be disappointed, even if he has to go for it himself. _Poor_ Peebles's man! he is up early and down late, to see all right. He was in my room this morning before I was out of bed, that all might be decent, &c. &c. &c. Yours to command, dear Nelly, MARY SMALL." "Dear Nelly,--It is now three months and better since that _poor_ coffin was put under ground, and I declare I feel quite queer and lonesome without it. But business goes on quite well and brisk. _Poor kind_ Peebles's man! he is off and on; almost always about the house, doing some kind job or other. He is a very decent body; but, I don't know how it is, I'm not to say comfortable. There's a sad noise with my sister's family. You know I never _could_ bear children. My late husband, that's gone, was the only one of the family that could. I am sure I don't know what I could do without _poor dear_ Peebles's man. Yours to command, dear Nelly, MARY SMALL.