and has little reason to boast. What says 'the VISCOUNT' to the
Chevalier (d'industrie) PIP? 'What's the good of SHAKSPEARE, PIP? I never
read him. What the devil is it all about? There's a lot of feet in
SHAKSPEARE'S verse, but there ain't any legs worth mentioning in
SHAKSPEARE'S plays, are there, PIP? Juliet, Desdemona, Lady Macbeth, and
all the rest of 'em, whatever their names are, might as well have no legs
at all, for any thing the audience know about it. I'll tell you what it
is; what the people call dramatic poetry is a collection of sermons. Do I
go to the theatre to be lectured? No; if I wanted that, I'd go to church.
What's the legitimate drama, PIP? Human nature. What are legs? Human
nature. Then let us have plenty of leg-pieces, PIP, and I'll stand by you,
my buck!' This is 'the ticket' in London, as well as in 'BOTOLPH his
town.' The 'legs have it' there as well as here. Meanwhile the sometime
gallant Thespian is in a sad plight, from having little to do and little
pay for it. Admirers fall off, one after another, under such
circumstances; and even the gentle sex forget their old enthusiasm:

'Oh! once again we met, but no bandit-chief was there;
His rouge was off, and gone that head of once luxuriant hair:
He lodges in a two-pair back, and at the tavern near
He cannot liquidate his 'chalk' nor wipe away his beer.
I saw him sad and seedy, yet methinks I see him now,
In the tableau of the last act, with the blood upon his brow.'

And thus he goes on, following his 'occupation' in one sense, and
gradually sinking lower and lower; until at length:

'ALAS! poor rat!
He has no cravat;
A seedy coat, and a hole in that!
No sole to his shoe, no brim to his hat;
Not a change of linen, except his skin:
No gloves, no vest,
Either second or best;
And what is worse than all the rest,
No light heart, though his breeches are thin!

* * * * *

IS not the following illustration of '_The Affections_,' by Rev. GEO. B.
CHEEVER, 'beautiful exceedingly?' 'On a bright day in summer, while the
west wind breathes gently, you stand before a forest of maples, or you are
attracted by a beautiful tree in the open field, that seems a dense clump
of foliage. You cannot but notice how easily the wind moves it, how
quietly, how gracefully, how lovingly, the whole body of it. It is simply
because it is covered with foliage. The same wind rustling