MAGAZINE.

SUBURBAN

"I feel those horrible spasms coming on again, and have a kind of presentiment that this time they will be the death of me. I beg of you to come down at the first opportunity and settle my monetary affairs. I have not made a testament as you know, and never will. Why shouldn't we assign our property to whom we please, without having those lawyers poking their noses in and trying to get something left them? Hard lines it is, I say, if we can't. Never since I've come into my property, have those blessed nephews of mine given me any peace. They are constantly bothering me with letters, and hoping the spasms keep off; that the cold weather doesn't bring on the gout, and such like inquiries. But I know the rascals are only waiting for me to go off, and then they'll be down on my money and play ducks and drakes with it. Come down, dear doctor, without delay,

"Love to Cassandra,

"And believe me, "Yours sincerely, "DOROTHY WINDFALL. "P.S. Please bring some No. 2 Globules."

I had just finished breakfast one frosty December morning, when the above letter was put into my hand. After reading the contents, I ejaculated, "Bless my stars! I must see to this at once, poor dear woman-about five hundred a year

they'll play ducks and drakes with it, will they? No, not if I know it, not if-here, Pygmalion, my dear, get me my great coat and hat.' I soon dressed myself for going out, and ran upstairs to tell Cassandra the news. "Get my portmanteau ready, dear, I shall be obliged to go down to Ipswich at once," I said. "You mustn't be longer than half an hour, or else I shall lose the 10 o'clock coach. Pygmalion, help your Mama." So saying, I hurried out to the Saracen's Head, in Snow Hill, to secure an inside place for Ipswich.

As it was then about half-past nine, only one person was in the waiting room, and the booking office was not yet open. Seeing that I had more time than I thought, and that this person was evidently going to be my travelling companion, for he was sitting on a huge carpet bag, directly in front of the fire, and had a large travelling wrapper across his knees, I accosted him with "A cold morning, sir." He was a fat, stumpy, middle aged man, with a flat forehead and chin, a fiery red nose, and a gamboge coloured head of hair. Over one eye he wore a black patch, and blinked incessantly with the other. He seemed so absorbed in a tune that he was whistling through his fingers, that he didn't appear to hear my question, so I put it again with a slight addition. "Heat of the fire very acceptable, Sir?"

He turned his bag round so as to become vis-a-vis to me, and shifting the black shade on to his nose, said in almost a whisper, "Are you aware, sir, that you've asked me one of the most absurd questions that one man could possibly put to another? Here, in the same breath, you introduce

the two words, heat and cold. What is heat? Doesn't heat pass from any one body to another, whether it surround it, or whether it be in immediate contact with it, providing that the temperature of that which receives it, is lower than that from which it proceeds? You do know it, and yet you say, the heat of the fire

-Do YOU CALL THAT STUFF THERE FIRE?" said he, raising his voice, and poking the embers with his fat foot. "Look under my waistcoat, scalp me, and peep into my brain-there's a fire if you like there's a flame! No, sir! as soon as I get upon that coach out there, that rubbish goes out; the acceptable heat you get is from me, you are indebted to me for that comfort. Don't thank me-I see you're going to, but don't. Cold, pshaw ! cold? What's cold?" "Why, the temperature of the morning," I ventured to put in. "Pshaw, popular fallacy-popular fallacy; cold, absence of heat-absence of heat; don't forget that. If you or any other man want to convince me

I was perfectly flabbergasted at his hastiness, and assured him I wasquite indifferent on the subject, and so far from wishing to convince him he was in error, the idea never entered my head, as it would involve an argument; and if there was one thing I disliked more than another, it was arguing. But what a fiery little man to be sure, this was. I dared not put another question to him for fear of having my head snapped off. And yet the warmth of the room was so very agreeable that I didn't like to leave it. However, he spared me the pain of being unsociable, by saying with a hideous grin. "What's your name?" Before I could possibly reply he assumed a most important air, and continued " My cognomen, Sir, is Yellowhammer. I needn't say do you know the name, because unless you're a convict just returned from Portland, or have been a high sea pirate all your life, my name must be engraven on your heart. It must be as familiar to your ear as Betsy or Jane. or any of those every day names. And yet, Sir, you're well aware my name is not an every day name. Your auricular organs are perfectly acquainted with the melodious sound of Yellowhammer; and why? Eh, why? Because Yellowhammer has gained for himself a world-wide reputation. 'Twas his grandfather, Sir Robin Bengali, who put up for Whistleborough, and made that grand speech on

the hustings, which was afterwards learnt by all the members of the House, in the year-ah! 'twas before your time."

I confessed that I did not remember the name of his illustrious ancestor! but, “Who indeed, had not heard of Yellowhammer? And did I see the veritable man before me sitting so humbly in front of a grate-full of stuff and rubbish? Bless me! what a condescension; but how unexpected a pleasure." If I hadn't said all this, he would have condemned me as a convict, without doubt. After inquiring if he were going to have the felicity of my company outside the coach-" Was I travelling on pleasure or business "-he asked if he should take tickets for two outside, as the office was now open; I was positively afraid to mention the word cold again, as there was no such thing and responded in spite of my apprehensions of rheumatism, tic etc., "If he would be so

kind."

In the mean time I returned home and found Cassandra all ready with my portmanteaus. After reading some letters, which I had overlooked in the hurry to get away, and putting a few visiting cards into one waistcoat pocket, and a little bottle of No. 2 in the other, I embraced my wife and told her I should be back again very soon. "Have you locked up the surgery, my dear," she asked; "for the twins are just beginning to walk, and they'll be going in and poisoning themselves." "To be sure, no I hadn't, but would do so while I thought of it." I kissed them all round, and gave full instructions to Pygmalion to look after his mother, for he was getting a big boy now, and moreover, told him to write on a piece of card-paper, in his best round hand, and paste outside the door just under the brass plate, "Dr. LARYNX IS

SUMMONED INTO THE COUNTRY, TO A MOST IMPORTANT PROFESSIONAL CONSULTATION; BUT HOPES ΤΟ RETURN TO TOWN IN A WEEK."

When I again reached the booking. office, the people were beginning to refresh themselves at the bar of the "Saracen's Head," a very good sign that the coach is either just arrived or is just starting. There is always some disputing at the last moment (when the 'ostlers are backing in the horses) between sundry old ladies with apoplectic looking bags, and gouty umbrellas, and old gentlemen with green spectacles and club feet, as to the