bronchitis? Wouldn't they play on the flute, and sing the soul out of me? And then if they were sick, wouldn't I pet them, and tell them all sorts of comicalities, and make time fiy like the mischief? Shouldn't wonder!"

LXX.

A PEN AND INK SKETCH.-BY FANNY

FERN.

Do you suppose Diogenes Dinkey would know his own portrait, if I drew it? It won't hurt me if he does, so long as it is a disputed point 'whether I be I. Well, his proportions were decidedly alderman-ic, and his gait strongly resembled that of the wooden horses one sees jerked across the stage at the theat-I mean the museum! Such a stiff dickey as he wore! What prevented his ears from being sawed off by it, was beyond

me.

"Diogenes was a saint and an epicure; divided his affections equally between veal pies and vestry meetings; in fact the former depended on his proper observance of the latter, as he was supported by sixpenny contributions from humbugged brethren

who considered him a celestial luminary. Of course he made his appearance simultaneously with the sexton, and kept popping up and down, in service time, like one of those corn-stalk witches, that country children play with. There was no 'napkin' big enough to hide his 'talent;' he endorsed everything the minister said; not mentioning what the deacons got off, and after that he put the audience to sleep by chasing round some idea of his own, till he lost it; and then he sat down. You didn't catch him raising any vexed questions about 'dipping,' or 'sprinkling,' or 'high church, or 'low church,' not he! he had a real millennial disposition; never raised any theological fences he couldn't crawl under, or climb over, to pick up windfall sixpences to swell his salary for the benefit of his fellow-creatures in general and himself in particular. He didn't care a torn hymn-book, whether it was a Baptist, or Episcopalian, or Unitarian hand he shook, as long as it left a bonus in his saintly palm.

"Poor Diogenes! he was affected with spasmodic near-sightedness, that always attacked him when he saw a Paul Pry in the distance who might hold him by the button long enough to desire statistics of the amount of good he had performed. He liked to be inquisitorial himself; but, like most

persons of that description, he was not particular to have the compliment returned. He had a voluminous robe of dignity he threw on, at times, when escape was impossible, that was very excrutiating to anybody who knew what was underneath it.

"Long life to you, Diogenes! I wouldn't lose you for a bright sixpence.

"I've attended many a conventicle where you were the chief attraction; you are a perfect study FANNY FERN."

to

LXXI.

FANNY'S "RULES FOR LADIES."

NEVER

EVER walk on the Common; it is 'vulgar;' dusty streets and a chorus of rattling omnibusses are more refined. Never go out in damp, India rubbers and um

cloudy or rainy weather.

brellas are only fit for common people. Should it storm six weeks on a stretch, better ruin your health, than appear in anything but paper soles and silk dresses. When the chill autumn winds blow, go out in drapery sleeves, that the wind may have a free pass round your elbows. Don't disarrange your curls by bowing to an elderly person; nor by any manner of means recognize a male or female who is not a walking advertisement for a tailor or a milliner.