(Tenthly.)
ANSWER FROM "THE DITTO DITTO" TO "THE DITTO DITTO."
OLD FELLOW,--Glad to hear you are so fresh! Give you joy--wish I was with
you, but can't come. Damn the last Derby--regularly stump'd--cleaned
out--and done Brown!--not a feather to fly with! Need I say how sorry I
am. Here's your health in Burgundy. Must make a raise for my Opera-box and
a new tilbury. Just lost my last fifty at French hazard.
Ever, your most devoted friend,
T. TIMS.
F. Smith, Esq.
* * * * *
THE BARBER OF STOCKSBAWLER.
A TALE OF THE SUPERNATURAL.
At the little town of Stocksbawler, on the Lower Rhine, in the year of
grace 1830, resided one Hans Scrapschins, an industrious and close-shaving
barber. His industry met with due encouragement from the bearded portion
of the community; and the softer sex, whose greatest fault is fickleness,
generally selected Hans for the honour of new-fronting them, when they had
grown tired of the ringlets nature had bestowed and which time had
frosted.
Hans continued to shave and thrive, and all the careful old burghers
foretold of his future well-doing; when he met with a misfortune, which
promised for a time to shut up his shop and leave him a beggar. He fell in
love.
Neighbours warned Hans of the consequences of his folly; but all
remonstrance was vain.
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