ways comes back again
when everybody is glad to see him. How can he have the heart to be
saying good-bye so often? I believe that Bunn is affected when he
blesses the people. Parting is always painful. Even the familiar bore is
dear to you. I should be sorry to shake hands even with Jawkins for
the last time. I think a well-constituted convict, on coming home
from transportation, ought to be rather sad when he takes leave of
Van Diemen's Land. When the curtain goes down on the last night of a
pantomime, poor old clown must be very dismal, depend on it. Ha! with
what joy he rushes forward on the evening of the 26th of December
next, and says--'How are you?--Here we are!' But I am growing too
sentimental:--to return to the theme.

THE NATIONAL MIND IS AWAKENED TO THE SUBJECT OF SNOBS. The word Snob
has taken a place in our honest English vocabulary. We can't define it,
perhaps. We can't say what it is, any more than we can define wit, or
humour, or humbug; but we KNOW what it is. Some weeks since, happening
to have the felicity to sit next to a young lady at a hospitable table,
where poor old Jawkins was holding forth in a very absurd pompous
manner, I wrote upon the spotless damask 'S--B,' and called my
neighbour's attention to the little remark.

That young lady smiled. She knew it at once. Her mind straightway filled
up the two letters concealed by apostrophic reserve, and I read in her
assenting eyes that she knew Jawkins was a Snob. You seldom get them
to make use of the word as yet, it is true; but it is inconceivable how
pretty an expression their little smiling mouths assume when they speak
it out. If any young lady doubts, just let her go up to her own room,
look at herself steadily in the glass, and say 'Snob.' If she tries this
simple experiment, my life for it, she will smile, and own that the word
becomes her mouth amazingly. A pretty little round word, all composed of
soft letters, with a hiss at the beginning, just to make it piquant, as
it were.

Jawkins, meanwhile, went on blundering, and bragging and boring, quite
unconsciously. And so he will, no doubt, go on roaring and braying, to
the end of time or at least so long as people will hear him. You cannot
alter the nature of men and Snobs by any force of satire; as, by laying
ever so many stripes on a donkey's back, you can't turn him into a
zebra.

But we can warn the neighbourhood that the person whom they and Jawkins
admire is an impostor. We appl