secondary consideration, not to be thought of but as disagreeable necessities, furnishing no profit, and intruding on the one affair of life. The single sitting-room was on the same principle, a chaos of boxes and old papers, and had more counting-house stools in it than chairs: not to mention a great monster of a desk straddling over the middle of the floor, and an iron safe sunk into the wall above the fire-place. The solitary little table for purposes of refection and social enjoyment, bore as fair a proportion to the desk and other business furniture, as the graces and harmless relaxations of life had ever done, in the persons of the old man and his son, to their pursuit of wealth. It was meanly laid out now for dinner; and in a chair before the fire sat Anthony himself, who rose to greet his son and his fair cousins as they entered.

An ancient proverb warns us that we should not expect to find old heads upon young shoulders; to which it may be added that we seldom meet with that unnatural combination, but we feel a strong desire to knock them off; merely from an inherent love we have of seeing things in their right places. It is not improbable that many men, in no wise choleric by nature, felt this impulse rising up within them, when they first made the acquaintance of Mr. Jonas. but if they had known him more intimately in his own house, and had sat with him at his own board, it would assuredly have been paramount to all other considerations.

`Well, ghost!' said Mr. Jonas, dutifully addressing his parent by that title. `Is dinner nearly ready?'

`I should think it was,' rejoined the old man.

`What's the good of that?' rejoined the son. `I should think it was. I want to know.'

`Ah! I don't know for certain,' said Anthony.

`You don't know for certain,' rejoined his son in a lower tone. `No. You don't know anything for certain, you don't. Give me your candle here. I want it for the gals.'

Anthony handed him a battered old office candlestick, with which Mr. Jonas preceded the young ladies to the nearest bedroom, where he left them to take off their shawls and bonnets; and returning, occupied himself in opening a bottle of wine, sharpening the carving-knife, and muttering compliments to his father, until they and the dinner appeared together. The repast consisted of a hot leg of mutton with greens and potatoes; and the dishes having been set upon the table by a slipshod old woman, they were left to enjoy it after their own manner.

`Bachelor's Hall, you know, cousin,' said Mr. Jonas to Charity. `I say -- the other one will be having a laugh at this when she gets home, won't she? Here; you sit on the right side of me, and I'll have her upon the left. Other one, will you come here?'

`You're such a fright,' replied Mercy, `that I know I shall have no appetite if I sit so near you: but I suppose I must.'

`An't she lively?' whispered Mr. Jonas to the elder sister, with his favourite elbow emphasis.

`Oh I really don't know!' replied Miss Pecksniff, tartly. `I am tired of being asked such ridiculous questions.'

`What's that precious old father of mine about now?' said Mr. Jonas, seeing that his parent was travelling up and down the room instead of taking his seat at table. `What are you looking for?'

`I've lost my glasses, Jonas,' said old Anthony.

`Sit down without your glasses, can't you?' returned his son. `You don't eat or drink out of 'em, I think; and where's that sleepy-headed old Chuffey got to! Now, stupid. Oh! you know your name, do you?'