"But alas," as Mr. Damon Damnemall* would say, "what are the expectancies of man?" A few weeks had scarcely rolled over the stranger's head and my wig, when I observed that his physiognomy became somewhat elongated, that his coat displayed tokens of antiquity at the elbows, and that his evening jug of ale dwindled into a jugling or half jug. I observed likewise that he became more civil to the landlord, laughed at his worst jokes, and made divers novel enquiries after the health of my spouse and her eleven sucklings. All these manifold politenesses naturally betokened some discomfiture which might daily be expected to occur.

I was not deceived in my conjectures, for a couple of hungry rascally-looking fellows, yclept bailiffs, had discovered the stranger's abode, chased him from London, and destined him for Carmarthen Gaol. But here an astute question of priority arose. Mr. Odzooks swore that the remainder of his debt should be paid first,

The Rev. Damon Damnemall, Field Preacher and Brandy Merchant, is a pastor of considerable influence in the neighbourhood of Llanwrda. To him I owe the miracle of my conversion, and by the blessed effects of his prayers, together with those of mine equally devout acquaintance, Rabshakeh Rattletext, "I am what I am."

while the catchpoles, tenacious of the honor of their employer who, as it appeareth, was a tailor in the metropolis, stoutly insisted on their own rights. The poor author meantime applied to me for assistance, but as from native modesty I have always felt an aversion to catchpoles, who remind me of spiders pouncing upon an unhappy blue-bottle, I declined interference. As for money, it was out of my power to lend it, for although on quarter day 1 am passing rich in the possession of ten pounds, the profits of mine academy; yet during the three previous months I have usually drank it out at the Nanny-goat and Nine-pins, save only a slight surplus for the domestic expenditure of my wife and the little ones. Thus situated, it was impossible for me to render any assistance, so that the stranger was incontinently burried to the house of bondage, while his "Album" and two pair of kerseymere pantaloons were retained by Mr. Odzooks in part payment of the reckoning.

A few days after his departure I received an epistle, dated Carmarthen Gaol, wherein he besought me to undertake the editorship of his MSS., giving me at the same time a note of introduction to his literary acquaintance in London, inclosed in an epistolary ditto to his publisher. He apologized in an extremely pretty

manner for his rudeness, but offered me a decent proportion of the profits, provided that I made no alteration in the volume. On the receipt of this seductive promise, I incontinently communed with the Inn-keeper, who gratified at the prospect of payment besought me to undertake the task, hinting that in case of refusal he would draw me no more liquor upon credit. This decided me, for be it known that I am unfathomably deep in mine host's books, and should be somewhat loath to visit the author at Carmarthen; albeit I am much smitten with his good opinion of mine endowments.

But what was to be done with my school? The stranger was merely prevented from paying the requisite attention to his book, by reason of his absence from London, and I should be useless from a similar difficulty. The landlord soon settled this point. "When you come back," said he, "you will doubtless be rich in the mammon of unrighteousness. To make sure however, I will carry on business during your departure, as I suppose that flagellation liberally bestowed, is the principal duty of a pedagogue." Though not quite satisfied with this arrangement, I was yet convinced that mine host was a man of some talent in book-keeping, inasmuch as he had infinite facility of scoring bills, and was cunning in the art of dot and go one.

Quid opus est verbis, as the classic poet sweetly singeth, or to use mine own feeble translation "what occasion is there for a long story?" In a few days I had arranged my plans, received a half year's due in advance, and obtained an interview with Mr. McLean, book seller and publisher, 26, Haymarket. 1 found him willing to risk the publication of what (by the law of possession) we resolved to intitule "The Inn-keeper's Album,"―nam quod emas, possis dicere, jure tuum.

By his means I am at present domiciliated in London, where my time is spent in correcting proof-sheets, (as folk cunning in such technicalities intitule them) and in listening to the edifying colloquies of those literary acquaintances to whom mine incarcerated friend has introduced me. To the kindest and most erudite of these new associates I have ventured to dedicate this volume, hoping that the sorry but grateful offering of the School-master of Llanwrda, may not prove unacceptable to the Historian of the Crusades.

The business of introduction being thus concluded, and my connection with the "Inn-keeper's Album" explained, nothing remains but to suffer the real author of the articles therein contained to stand forth and speak for himself. A few weeks will either unlock or

rivet the chains of his house of bondage, and a few weeks will also decide the fate of my editorship, which I trust will not be deemed unworthy of one who, by the blessing of the Lord, undertakes to perfect boys in book-keeping, arithmetic, and all polite accomplishments, on the consideration of one guinea per quarter, and one month's notice previous to the removal of any young gentleman.

W. F. DEACON,

Chelsea, Dec 1st, 1822.

(School-master of Llanwrda.)