stood behind June, at the other end of the table. Master Thomas, however, was a very useful fellow; and beside performing the high official duty which we have mentioned, he drew the curtains, stirred the fire, lighted and snuffed the candles, and like all other little men, seemed to think himself of more importance than anybody else.

The pretty blushing May was the general toast of the company; and many compliments were passed upon the elegant manner in which she had ornamented the dishes. Old January tried to be very sweet upon her, but she received him coldly. January at length ceased to persecute her with his attentions, and transferred them to November, who was of the same politics as himself, although she had not been quite so successful in supporting them. Poor May had scarcely got rid of her venerable lover, before that sentimental swain, April, began to tell her that he was absolutely dying for her. This youth was one moment all sunshine, and smiles, and rapture, and the next he dissolved in tears, clouds gathered upon his brow, and he looked a fitter suitor for November than for May; who, having at last hinted as much to him, he left her in a huff, and entered into close conversation with September, who, although much his senior, resembled him in many particulars.

July, who was of a desperately hot temper, was every now and then a good deal irritated by March, a dry old fellow, as cool as a cucumber, who was continually passing his jokes upon him. At one time, July went so far as to threaten him with a prosecution for something he had said; but March, knowing what he was about, managed to keep on the windy side of the law, and to throw dust in the eyes of his accusers. July, howcontrived to have his revenge; for being called upon for a song, he gave "The Dashing White Sergeant' in great style, and laid a peculiar emphasis upon the words "March, March away," at the same time motioning to his antagonist to leave the room.

ever,

April having announced that it was raining hard, January was much perplexed as to how he should get home, as he had not brought his carriage. At one time, when he was looking very anxiously out of the window, to discover if there were any stars visible, October, at the suggestion of May, asked him if he thought of borrowing Charles's wain to carry him, as he had done so great a kindness to its proprietor? This put the old fellow into such a passion, that he hastily seized his head gear, a red cap, sallied out through the rain, and would most likely have broken his neck in the dark, had not February sent her

footman, Candlemas Day, after him, with a lantern, by whom he was guided in safety to his lodgings in Fog Alley.

On the retirement of the ladies, February, May, August, and November, the host proposed their healths, which were drunk with the usual honours; when April, being a soft-spoken youth, and ambitious of distinction as an orator, began to return thanks for them, in a very flowery speech; but was soon coughed down by December and March; and March, by the by, at length got into such high favour with his old enemy, July, that the latter was heard to give him an invitation, saying, that if ever he came to his side of the zodiac, he should be most happy to see him. October told the host that, with his leave, he would drink no more wine, but that he should be glad of some home-brewed, and a pipe. To this December acceded, and said he should be happy to join him, and he thought his friend March would do the same. March having nodded assent, they set to, and a pretty puffing and blowing they made. April, however, continued to drink Madeira, while June, July, and September stuck with exemplary constancy to the Burgundy.

After repeated summonses to the drawing-room, they joined the ladies at the tea table. November drew herself up, and affected to be quite overpowered by the smell of smoke, which March, October, and December had brought in with them; although it was well known that the old lady herself could blow a cloud as well as any of them. August, a grave, stately matron, of extraordinary beauty, although perhaps un peu passee, officiated as tea-maker. Good Friday, who by this time had recovered the fright into which Shrove Tuesday had thrown her, handed about the toasted buns; and Swithin, a servant of July, was employed to keep the tea-pot supplied with water, which he too often did to overflowing.

Tea being over, the old folks went to cards; and the young ones, including October, who managed to hide his years very successfully, to the piano-forte. May was the prima donna, and delighted every one, especially poor April, who was alternately smiles and tears during the whole of her performance. October gave them a hunting song, which caused even the card tables to be deserted; and August sang a sweet, melancholy canzonet, which was rapturously encored.

At length, Candlemas Day having returned from seeing old January home, his mistress, February, took leave of the company. April, who was a little the worse for the wine he had drunk, insisted on escorting November; although she had

several servants in waiting, and her road was in an opposite direction to his own. May went away in her own carriage, and undertook to set June down, who lived very near her. The road was hilly and steep, but her coachman, Ascension Day, got the horses very well to the top; and July and August both walked home, each preceded by a dog-day, with a lighted torch. September and October, who were next door neighbours, went away in the same hackney coach; and March departed as he came, on the back of a rough Shetland pony.