we lay by we trick and we cheat-we use light weights and short measures

"It's as true as the Bible," said the baker's widow. "We harass our reason to its utmost to arrive at wealth-and then, when we think we have built our nest for life, when we have lined it with wool, and gilded the outside, and taxed our fancy for our best ease-why, what comes of it?-Molly, the housemaid, drops a lighted candle-snuff among the shavings--a cat carries a live coal from under the fire among the linen the watchman springs his rattle-and, after a considerable time, engines play upon our ruin. Yes, Mrs. Nox, this is life; and as all of us who live must put up with life, grieving's a folly, Mrs. Nox." Thus spoke Adam.

"It's true-it's true, Mr. Buff-but yet to have a great deal, and to lose it all," said the landlady. "We should always keep philosophy," said Adam Buff.

"A fire-escape?" asked Mrs. Nox doubtingly; and then, with sudden illumination-" Oh, I seereligion."

"The religion of the heathens. For my part, I feel if the warehouses had been my own, I could have looked at the devouring element, without ever forgetting myself."

"You may call it devouring, Mr. Buff,—nothing came amiss to it. Poor Mrs. Savon!"—

66

My laundress!" exclaimed Adam, his feet plunging spasmodically under the blanket.

"She lived at the back-all her linen destroyed," said Mrs. Nox.

"Her linen!" echoed Adam Buff, turning very white. "What! all?-everything?"

"Every rag,” replied Mrs. Nox, with peculiar emphasis.

Adam stretched his legs, and his jaw fell. Poor plaything of malevolent fortune! Adam was precisely in the strait of an author, whose original manuscript is accidentally given to the flames, no other copy being extant. Plainly, Mrs. Savon had Adam's shirt-and Adam had no other copy. Now Buff, to give him his due, could have philosophized all day on the destruction of the sugar-houses; but the loss of his shirt went very near to his bosom. Adam lay despairing, when his good genius knocked at the door, then immediately opened it, and walked into the room; the landlady very civilly tripping down stairs.

"I believe, sir," said the stranger, "you are Mr. Buff?"

66

"I am, sir," said Adam, suppressing a shiver.

"I think it very fortunate that I find you as I do"-Adam looked a doubt "I was fearful that you might be dressed and from home." Adam

cleared his throat, and still made a cravat of the blanket. "You perceive, I have used no ceremony; it is n't my manner, sir. To begin you are quite without incumbrance, Mr. Buff?"

"Quite," answered Adam, with much decision; and was, in his turn, about to question his interrogator on the object of his visit, when he deferred in silence to the prosperous appearance of the stranger, who-though apparently about sixty—was dressed with all the care of a beau. Twice was Adam about to speak, when his eye fell upon the white shirtfrill-ample as our great grandmother's fan-of his visitor, and a sense of inferiority made him hold his peace.

"Mr. Buff, I have heard you are a philosopher?" Adam meekly inclined his eye-lids on the blanket. "Such a man, I have some time sought. It matters not, how I have discovered you—that, in good season, you shall know. It is my wish to place in your hands a most valuable, nay, a most sacred deposit." Adam instinctively opened both his palms. "That is, if I find you really a philosopher." Adam looked a Socrates. "This morning, if you please, we'll enter on the business."

"I will wait upon you, sir, at"

"No-no-no. I couldn't think of parting with you when you are dressed, we'll go together," said

the visitor, and Adam's face looked suddenly frostbitten. "But, bless me! do you rise without a fire, this weather?"

“Man, sir,” said Adam, "never so well asserts his dignity, as when he triumphs over the ele ments."

66

Very true-and pray, don't think me effeminate; but I always like my shirt aired," said the old gentleman.

“Mine, I hear, was aired last night,” said Adam Buff, and the engines rattled through his brain— "though without my consent to the ceremony."

"Ha! a careful laundress," said the visitor, and Adam smiled a sickly smile. “The very man, I wanted," thought the old gentleman; then, rising from his chair, to the keen delight of Adam, he walked to the door. "Real philosophy takes little time to dress, Mr. Buff-if you please, I'll wait below," and the speaker left the room, Buff smiling benignantly on his exit.

Adam leapt from his bed, and securing the latch of the door with a friendly wooden peg, proceeded to array himself with the speed of an actor, and the simplicity of a monk, who had never dreamt of flax-the true order of sanctity, as the lives and habits of hooded saints will testify, rising not from fine linen, but rigid horse-hair. However, whilst Adam dresses-alack! have we no other word to

paint the imperfect solemnity?-we have time to explain the purpose of the visitor.

Jonas Butler was a ruddy bachelor of sixtytwo-and an ardent admirer of philosophy. We will not roundly assert that he always understood the object of his admiration, but his devotion to it was no whit the less from his ignorance: nay, we question, if it was not heightened by imperfect knowledge. Philosophy was his idol-and so the thing was called philosophy, he paused not to pry into its glass eyes-to question the paint smeared upon its cheeks-the large bead dangling from its nose-and its black and gilded teeth-not he; but down he fell upon his knees, and lifted up his simple hands, and raised his pullet voice, and cried"Divine philosophy!" Doth not the reader know some Jonas Butler? What a fortunate thing that philosophy is really so musical a word-that it smacks so full-bodied upon the tongue-and that, moreover, it may be so successfully used both in attack and defence-in coming on and in coming off! Never shall we forget its triumphant use by Mr. Butler, on one memorable occasion. A small parcel had been sent him from Yorkshire, and on arriving at the Saracen's Head, was forwarded per porter to the house of the philosopher. "My friend," said Mr. Butler, "you have brought this about two miles?" "About two." "And you wish to charge