pluffing with bitter snuff, except such as enclose a worm—­now an unwholesome sleep of interrupted snores, your bobbing head ever and anon smiting your breast-bone—­now burnt-beans palmed off on the family for Turkish coffee—­now a game at cards, with a dead partner, and the ace of spades missing—­now no supper—­you have no appetite for supper—­and now into bed tumbles the son of Genius, complaining to the moon of the shortness of human life, and the fleetness of time!

Blackwood’s Magazine.

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SLEEPING AFTER DINNER.

Mr. Fox at St. Ann’s Hill was, for the last years of his life, in the habit (never interfered with by his friends) of dosing for a few minutes after dinner; and it was on this occasion, unconsciously yielding to the influence of custom, I perceived that Mr. Garrow, who was the chief talker (Parr was in his smoking orgasm,) began to feel embarrassed at Mr. Fox’s non-attention; and I, therefore, made signs to Mr. Fox, by wiping my fingers to my eyes, and looking expressively at Garrow.  Mr. Fox, the most truly polite man in the world, immediately endeavoured to rouse himself—­but in vain; Nature would have her way.  Garrow soon saw the struggle, and adroitly feigned sleep himself.  Mr. Fox was regenerated in ten minutes—­apologized—­and made the evening delightful—­Senatorial Reminiscenses.—­The Inspector.

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THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

* * * * *

CHRONICLES OF THE CANONGATE.

The Two Drovers.

(Concluded from page 289.)

[Our readers must have missed, and probably with some regret, the conclusion of the above story, as promised for insertion in our last Number; and unaccustomed as we are to an intentional discrepancy of this sort, (for such was the above,) we shall consider ourselves justified in briefly stating some of the circumstances which led to the irregularity.  We are not disposed to enter into the tilts of rival journalists, some of whom, in taking time by the forelock, may have perhaps been rather more enterprising than the subject warranted.[17] Nevertheless, in the attempt to please the public, as in other races, the youngest are often the fleetest.  In the present case, the appetite of the public had been whetted with “reiterated advertisement:”  and one of our contemporaries, with more playfulness than truth, had compared his priority to that of Fine-ear in the fairy tale.  But his talisman failed, and a young rival outstripped him; and from this quarter we were induced to copy the first portion of the tale of The Two Drovers, upon the editor’s assurance of his own honesty in obtaining the precedence, and which assurance We are still unwilling