of the times: 'To replace the shirt-button of the father, the brother, the
husband, which has come off in putting on the vestment; to bid the
variegated texture of the morning slipper or the waistcoat grow upon the
Berlin wool; to repair the breach that incautious haste in dressing has
created in the coat or the trowsers, which there is no time to send out to
be mended; are the special offices of woman; offices for which her digital
mechanism has singularly fitted her.' Apropos of '_Missions_:' we perceive
that DICKENS understands this vague verbal apology for eccentricity or
humbugeousness, if we interpret aright his frail and tearful MODDLE; 'who
talked much about people's 'missions,' upon which he seemed to have some
private information not generally attainable,' and who, 'being aware that
a shepherd's mission was to pipe to his flock, and that a boatswain's
mission was to pipe all hands, and that one man's mission was to be a paid
piper, and another man's mission was to pay the piper, had got it into his
head that his own peculiar mission was to pipe his eye, which he did
perpetually.' . . . A CURIOUS volume has recently appeared in Paris,
entitled '_Poesies Populaires Latines anterieures au Douzieme Siecle_;'
and as sequels to the work, are certain satires upon the avarice and
corruption of the papal government in the twelfth century, among which is
the following curious parody:

'_Here beginneth the Gospel according to Marks of silver._--In
that time the pope said to the Romans: When the son of man
cometh to the seat of our majesty, say ye first, Friend, what
seekest thou? But if he continue knocking, and give you nothing,
cast him out into utter darkness. And it came to pass that a
certain poor clerk came to the court of our lord the pope, and
cried out, saying, Have pity on me at least you, O gate-keepers
of the pope, for the hand of poverty hath touched me. Verily I
am needy and poor; therefore, I pray ye, relieve my calamity and
my wretchedness. But they, when they heard him, were very wroth,
and said, Friend, thy poverty be with thee to perdition! get
behind me, Sathanas, for thou art not wise in the wisdom of
money. Verily, verily I say unto thee, thou shalt not enter into
the joy of thy lord until thou hast given thy last farthing. And
the poor man departed, and sold his cloak and his coat and all
that he had, and gave it to the cardinals and