SHAKESPEARE.

It was past two o’clock when Mr John Forster returned from his chambers, and let himself in with a pass-key.  Having secured the street-door, the old gentleman lighted his candle from the lamp, which he then blew out, and had his foot upon the first step of the stairs, when he was startled by a loud snore from Nicholas in the dining-room; he immediately proceeded there, and found his brother, with his head still lying on the table.

“Humph!” ejaculated the lawyer.  “Why, brother Nicholas! brother Nicholas!”

Nicholas, who had nearly slept off the effects of the wine, answered with an unintelligible sort of growling.

“Brother Nicholas, I say,—­brother Nicholas,—­will you get up, or lie here all night?”

“They shall be cleaned and ready by to-morrow morning,” replied Nicholas, dreaming.

“Humph! that’s more than you will be, apparently,—­I say, brother Nicholas.”

“Yes, brother,” replied Nicholas, raising his head and staring at the candle.  “Why, what’s the matter?”

“The matter is, that I wish to go to bed, and wish to see you in bed before I go myself.”

“Yes, brother John, if you please, certainly.  Where’s my bed?  I do believe I have been asleep.”

“Humph!  I have no doubt upon the subject,” replied John Forster, lighting another candle.  “Come this way, brother Nicholas,” and they both ascended the stairs.

When Mr John Forster arrived at the door of his own room, on the first storey, he stopped.  “Now, brother Nicholas, are you quite awake?  Do you think that I may trust you with the candle?”

“I should hope so,” replied Nicholas; “I see that it is silver, but I hope I’m honest, brother John.”

“Humph!  I mean, can I trust you to put it out?”

“Yes, I think that you may.  Pray, which is my room?”

“The first door on the left, when you are at the top of the stairs.”

“The first door.”

“Yes, the first on the left; do you understand?”

“Yes, brother, I do; the first door on the left.”

“Very well; then I wish you a good-night.”

“Good-night, brother,” replied Nicholas, ascending the stairs as John Forster entered his room.

Nicholas arrived at the head of the stairs; but his brain was not very clear.  He muttered to himself “I think I’m right—­yes, I’m right—­the first door—­to the right—­yes—­that’s it;” and instead of the room to the left, where Newton was, he walked into the one to the right, which appertained to the housekeeper, Mrs Smith.

The old lady was fast asleep.  Nicholas threw off his clothes, put out his candle, and stepped into bed without waking the old lady, whom he supposed to be his son, and in a few minutes they snored in concert.

The morning dawned.  The watchmen (London nightingales) ceased their notes and retired to their beds.  The chimney-sweeps (larks of the metropolis) raised their shrill cry as they paced along with chattering teeth.  Housemaids and kitchen-maids presented their back views to the early passengers as they washed off the accumulation of the previous day from the steps of the front-door.