the wonder and admiration of the urchin crowd. Even after he had set off, he would pause in the middle of the street, or trot back two or three times to give some parting orders, which were answered by the housekeeper from the door, or Dolph from the study, or the black cook from the cellar, or the chambermaid from the garret window; and there were generally some last words bawled after him, just as he was turning the

corner.

The whole neighbourhood would be aroused by this pomp and circumstance. The cobbler would leave his last; the barber would thrust out his frizzed head, with a comb sticking in it; a knot would collect at the grocer's door, and the word would be buzzed from one end of the street to the other, "The Doctor's riding out to his country

seat.'

SALMAGUNDI.

THE COCKLOFT FAMILY.

THE Cockloft family, of which I have made such frequent mention, is of great antiquity, if there be any truth in the genealogical tree which hangs up in my cousin's library. They trace their descent from a celebrated Roman Knight, cousin to the progenitor of his Majesty of Britain, who left his native country on occasion of some disgust; and coming into Wales, became a great favourite of Prince Madoc, and accompanied that famous argonaut in the voyage which ended

in the discovery of this_continent.—Though a member of the family, I have sometimes ventured to doubt the authenticity of this portion of their annals, to the great vexation of cousin Christopher, who is looked up to as the head of our house; and who, though as orthodox as a bishop, would sooner give up the whole decalogue than lop off a single limb of the family tree. From time immemorial it has been the rule for the Cocklofts to marry one of their own name; and as they always breed like rabbits, the family has increased and multiplied like that of Adam and Eve. In truth, their number is almost incedible: and you can hardly go into any part of the country without starting a warren of genuine Cocklofts. Every person of the least observation or experience must have observed, that where this practice of marrying cousins and second cousins prevails in a family, every member, in the course of a few generations, becomes queer, humorous, and original; as much distinguished from the common race of mongrels, as if he were of a different species. This has happened in our family, and particularly in that branch of it of which Christopher Cockloft, Esq., is the head-Christopher is, in fact, the only married man of the name who resides in town! his family is small, having lost most of his children when young, by the excessive care he took to bring them up like vegetables. This was one of the first whim-whams, and a confounded one it was, as his children might have told, had they not fallen victims to his experiment before they could talk. He had got from some

quack philosopher or other a notion, that there was a complete analogy between children and plants, and that they ought to be both reared alike. Accordingly, he sprinkled them every morning with water, laid them out in the sun, as he did his geraniums; and if the season was remarkably dry, repeated this wise experiment three or four times of a morning. The consequence was, the poor little souls died one after the other, except Jeremy and his two sisters; who, to be sure, are a trio of as odd, runty, mummy-looking originals as ever Hogarth fancied in his most happy moments. Mrs. Cockloft, the larger if not the better half of my cousin, often remonstrated against this vegetable theory; and even brought the parson of the parish in which my cousin's country house is situated to her aid; but in vain, Christopher persisted, and attributed the failure of his plan to its not having been exactly conformed to. As I have mentioned Mrs. Cockloft, I may as well say a little more about her while ĺ am in the humour. She is a lady of wonderful notability, a warm admirer of shining mahogany, clean hearths, and her husband, whom she considers the wisest man in the world, beating Will Wizard and the parson of our parish-the last of whom is her oracle on all occasions. She goes constantly to church every Sunday and saint's day, and insists upon it, that no man is entitled to ascend a pulpit unless he has been ordained by a bishop; nay, so far does she carry her orthodoxy, that all the arguments in the world will never persuade her that a Presbyterian, or Baptist, or