that I should suffer for it.  I felt myself an “uncomfortable gentleman.”  I began to trace my fire from its origin up to its present state of perfection; the letters were of no consequence—­none—­the model I made myself and can make another—­certainly—­the coal I paid dearly for by fatigue, but I can get another lump, and send it home by coach, yes; then why am I so uncomfortable.  I looked at the glowing fire which was getting insufferably hot, and gave it a passionate poke, exclaiming, I wish I could stop your draught.  Draught! draft, I repeated, what has become of my draft that I received yesterday for my last paper?  I began to recollect myself where I had laid it, and quickly came to the awful conclusion that I had placed it carefully between the folds of one of the sacrificed letters.

Misery and destruction, said I, that draft has caused my rapid fire! it is gone and forever!  Fool that I was; why did I not “blow up” the servants for paper, wood, and coals, and be “done for properly” instead of thus “doing for myself.”  Ye alchymistical spirits, said I, invoking the dark drapery, aid me to extract my gold from yonder ashes! but they were deaf to my calls, and the old caput mortum seemed to grin in mockery.  I could bear it no longer, and rushing from the sanctum, met the servant girl on the stairs.  “A draft! a draft!” repeated I; she thought me mad; I was mad with vexation.  “Sir,” said she, “you will catch cold if there is a draught such a day as this.”  A cold day as this, you wretch, Eliza, why did you not bring my coals to the door this morning, then I could have had my fire without a draft; I want a ten guinea draft, not a foggy, frosty draught.  The girl stood amazed, but replied, “Please, sir, I didn’t bring the coals this morning because you said never to do so on a Sunday, sir.”  “Sunday,” I exclaimed, “is this Sunday?” “Lord bless me, sir, yes, and new year’s day too, sir; happy new year, sir,” said the provoking little wench, who was now joined by another.  I could stand it no longer, but slunk back into the sanctum, “like a burnt child that dreaded the fire,” hearing them exclaim, “I thought how it would be, them odd things in his room has quite turned his brain, poor young gentleman, he did not even know it was Sunday, and new year’s day neither.”

I really did not know it was Sunday, for my calculaters were destroyed by the circumstance of our having kept Christmas Day on the Monday.  I was aware that it was new year’s day, and had intended to begin 1832 with good works, instead of which I commenced it with destroying my property, thus literally “doing for myself,” and unlike most other people who invariably suffer from a draught, I am suffering from the loss of one.

PYRAMIS.

* * * * *

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.

ADVENT.

(For the Mirror.)