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old harridans who are talking scandal: for what long years past they have pointed out holes in their neighbors' dresses, and mud on their flounces; "Here's a go! I've lost my diamond ring." As the dustman utters this pathetic cry, and looks at his hand, you burst out laughing. These are among the little points of humor. One could indicate hundreds of such as one turns over the pleasant pages. There is a little snob or gent, whom we all of us know, who wears little tufts on his little chin, outrageous pins and pantaloons, smokes cigars on tobacconists' counters, sucks his cane in the streets, struts about with Mrs. Snob and the baby (Mrs. S. an immense woman, whom Snob nevertheless bullies), who is a favorite abomination of Leech, and pursued by that savage humorist into a thousand of his haunts. There he is, choosing waistcoats at the tailor's such waistcoats! Yonder he is giving a shilling to the sweeper, who calls him "Capting;" now he is offering a paletot to

a huge giant who is going out in the rain. They don't know their own pictures, very likely; if they did, they would have a meeting, and thirty or forty of them would be deputed to thrash Mr. Leech. One feels a pity for the poor little bucks. In a minute or two, when we close this discourse and walk the streets, we shall see a dozen such.

Ere we shut the desk up, just one word to point out to the unwary specially to note_the_backgrounds of landscapes in Leech's drawings homely drawings of moor and wood, and seashore and London street the scenes of his little dramas. They are as excellently true to nature as the actors themselves; our respect for the genius and humor which invented both increases as we look and look again at the designs. May we have more of them; more pleasant Christmas volumes, over which we and our children can laugh together. Can we have too much of truth and fun and beauty and kindness?

THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Mr. HORACE MILLIKEN, a Widower, a wealthy City Merchant.
George MILLIKEN, a Child, his Son.

Captain TOUCHIT, his Friend.

CLARENCE KICKLEBURY, brother to Milliken's late Wife.

JOHN HOWELL, M.'s Butler and confidential Servant.

CHARLES PAGE, Foot-boy.

BULKELEY, Lady Kicklebury's Servant.

Mr. BONNINGTON.

Coachman, Cabman; a Bluecoat Boy, another Boy (Mrs. Prior's Sons).

LADY KICKLEBURY, Mother-in-law to Milliken.

Mrs. BONNINGTON, Milliken's Mother (married again).

Mrs. PRIOR.

Miss PRIOR, her Daughter, Governess to Milliken's Children.
ARABELLA MILLIKEN, a Child

MARY BARLOW, School-room Maid.

A grown-up Girl and Child of Mrs. Prior's, Lady's K.'s Maid, Cook.

THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB.

SCENE.

ACT I.

MILLIKEN's villa at Rich

have it for the asking; because the letters addressed to Horace Milliken,

mond; two drawing-rooms opening into Esq., might as well be addressed John one another. The late Mrs. MILLI- Howell, Esq., for I read 'em, I put KEN's portrait over the mantelpiece; ber 'em. I know his affairs better 'em away and docket 'em, and remembook-cases, writing-tables, piano, news-than he does: his income to a shilling, papers, a handsomely furnished saloon. The back-room opens, with very large windows, on the lawn and pleasureground; gute, and wall over which the heads of a cab and a carriage are seen, as persons arrive. Fruit, and a ladder on the walls. A door to the dining-room, another to the sleepingapartments, &c.

JOHN.Everybody out; governor in the city; governess (heigh-ho!) walking in the Park with the children; ladyship gone out in the carriage. Let's sit down and have a look at the papers. Buttons! fetch "The Morning Post" out of Lady Kicklebury's room. Where's "The Daily News," sir?

PAGE. Think it's in Milliken's

room.

JOHN. Milliken! you scoundrel! What do you mean by Milliken? Speak of your employer as your governor, if you like, but not as simple Milliken. Confound your impudence! you'll be calling me Howell next.

PAGE. Well! I didn't know. You call him Milliken.

JOHN. - Because I know him, because I'm intimate with him, because there's not a secret he has but I may

like. I may call Mr. Milliken what pay his tradesmen, wear his coats if I I please; but not you, you little scamp of a clod-hopping ploughboy. Know your station and do your business, or you don't wear them buttons long, I promise you. [Exit Page.]

Let me go on with the paper [reads]. How brilliant this writing is!

Times," " Chronicle," "Daily News," they're all good, blest if they ain't. How much better the nine leaders in them three daily papers is, than nine speeches in the House of Commons! Take a very best speech in the 'Ouse now, and compare it with an article in "The Times!" I say, the newspaper has the best of it for philosophy, for wit, novelty, good sense, too. And the party that writes the leading article is nobody, and the chap that speaks in the House of Commons is a hero. Lord, Lord, how the world is 'umbugged! Pop'lar representation! what is pop'lar representation? Dammy, it's a farce. Hallo! this article is stole! I remember a passage in Montesquieu uncommonly like it. [Goes and gets the book. As he is standing upon sofa to get it, and sitting down to read it, Miss PRIOR

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