avail, for he was dying of a surfeit. In his last moments he caused some
of his attendants to go and inquire whether his majesty was not suffering
in a similar manner with himself, but they found him sleeping soundly and
quietly. In the morning, when the king was informed of the sad catastrophe
of his faithful friend and servant, he exclaimed, "Ah, I told him I had
the better digestion of the two."

W.G.C.

* * * * *



THE SKETCH BOOK.


EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR. A FRAGMENT.

(_For the Mirror_.)


During the rage of the last continental war in Europe, occasion--no matter
what--called an honest Yorkshire squire to take a journey to Warsaw.
Untravelled and unknowing, he provided himself no passport: his business
concerned himself alone, and what had foreign nations to do with him? His
route lay through the states of neutral and contending powers. He landed
in Holland--passed the usual examination; but, insisting that the affairs
which brought him there were of a private nature, he was
imprisoned--questioned--sifted;--and appearing to be incapable of design,
was at length permitted to pursue his journey.