not been for the watchfulness of his four-footed friend, more than once these intended private conferences with the inward man would have betrayed the holder of them to other ears than those for whom they were designed. However, the footfall of a grasshopper could not escape the vigilance of Toby, and hitherto no unfortunate result had followed. It was also a custom of Toby to give a response, by way of parenthesis, to these self-communications of his master; and, notwithstanding their being unnoticed by him directly as reply, they were not without their effect.

a

"I don't know," observed the razor-grinder, for the fiftieth time trying the edge of the scissors under his immediate revision, "I don't know," repeated he, "but I think you'll do."

Toby sneezed an acquiescence.

"And if I don't mistake," continued his master, "when I take ye home in the cool of the evening, I shall be able to sack one of

the gossip's chickabiddys, and may be the one that roosts next the cock."

Toby gave a strongly indicative wag with his abrupt terminus, upon the policy of this

measure.

"Ah!” resumed his owner, giving a pat of satisfaction upon his abdominal regions, "I always choose the best when I've the chance in all matters; but more particularly when eating and drinking are concerned.”

Toby threw himself upon the flat of his back, and rolled in very ecstasy at the sentiment. "Some folk," continued the razor-grinder, shaking his head with pity at the reflection, "some folk are nincompoops enough to let the best-the pick of the fruit as I call itslip through their fingers; but I never do. No, no trust Peter Parkins for that."

Toby skipped nimbly to his feet upon the conclusion of this sentence, and scratched an ear, as if it had been tickled by the facetiousness of the remark.

"A man must be worse than a hass to stick his beak into skim milk when he's the opportunity of moistening his chalk with cream,' said the soliloquizing Peter, again making the sparks fly from the rough stone as he whirled it swiftly round; "and yet," recommenced he, "go where you will-hang me if it isn't enough to make one's eyes sore! -you'll see swarms of addle-pated, half-asleep, never-awake, blinking, winking, dreaming fools, who never can tell until it's too late -until what I may call it's digested nourishment-which side their bread was buttered

on."

Toby expressed a perfect agreement in this metaphysical opinion concerning the shortsightedness of human kind, by giving a slow and deliberate wink of approval.

"Poor beggars!" exclaimed the razor-grinder, after a long pause, and thus with pity he concluded his reflections.

Scarcely were they brought to so desirable

a close, when Toby announced, by a short inward growl, that some one or something was in the order of coming, and quickly afterwards a long shadow was cast upon the greensward close to the feet of Peter Parkins.

“As the old gossip said when she crossed the door, Coming events throw their shadows afore,' ”

chanted Peter, in perhaps the least melodious tone that elegant metre from the muse was ever murdered in.

"What, Mike!" continued he, catching the virgin glimpse of the substance from which the shade was cast; "what, Mike, my heartof-oak, my spurred and crowing cock! How wags your luck?"

66

Kindly, master, kindly," replied Mike, at the same time repelling Toby's self-imposed task of minutely inspecting his person, by kicking him unceremoniously into a neighbouring bed of thistles.

"That's very frequently the reward of an

inquiring mind," observed the philosophical razor-grinder, pointing to the discomfited and floored Toby. "Only try to shell the pod of circumstances, and over ye go like a rag from the foot of prejudice.”

66

Ha, ha, ha," laughed Mike, giving a full view of every tooth in his wide and dis"What! you're still at your old trade of keeling the pot o' your learning."

tended jaws.

66

Taking down the shutters of mole-eyed ignorance," replied the razor-grinder, crossing his arms, and coughing like an orator at fault; "or," continued he, " in words that the least gifted in common sense may understand, putting an edge upon blunt and rusty minds, has always been one of my pleasing, but sadly unprofitable labours-at least," said he, correcting himself, "in an earthly point of view. What it may do when Peter Parkins's tally comes to be reckoned up hereafter, and the score squared, is a matter beyond the reach and itching fingers of the wisest."