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"What a hand, too, dear mother has for shouldn't care a fig for measles, or anything a pie-crust! But it's born with some of the sort. As a nurse, she's such a treas people. What do you say? Why wasn't ure! it born with me? Now, Caudle, that's cruel-unfeeling of you; I wouldn't have uttered such a reproach to you for the whole world. Consider, dear; people can't be born as they like.

"And at her time of life, what a needlewoman! And the darning and mending for the children, it really gets quite beyond me now, Caudle. Now with mother at my hand, there wouldn't be a stitch wanted in the house.

"How often, too, have you wanted to brew at home! And I never could learn "And then, when you're out late, Caudle anything about brewing But, ha! what-for I know you must be out late, someale dear mother makes! You never tasted times; I can't expect you, of course, to be it? No, I know that. But I recollect the always at home-why, then dear mother ale we used to have at home; and father could sit up for you, and nothing would denever would drink wine after it. The best light the dear soul half so much. sherry was nothing like it. You dare say "And so, Caudle, love, I think dear monot? No; it wasn't, indeed, Caudle. Then, ther had better come, don't you? Eh, if dear mother was only with us what Caudle? Now, you're not asleep, darling; money we should save in beer! And then don't you think she'd better come? you might always have your nice, pure, say No? You say No again? You won't good, wholesome ale, Caudle: and what have her, you say; you won't,—that's flat? good it would do you! For you're not Caudle-Cau-Cau-dle-Cau-dlestrong, Caudle.

"And then, dear mother's jams and preserves, love! I own it, Caudle; it has often gone to my heart that with cold meat you haven't always had a pudding. Now, if mother was with us, in the matter of fruit puddings, she'd make it summer all the year round. But I never could preserve-now mother does it, and for next to no money whatever. What nice dogs-in-ablanket she'd make for the children!

What's dogs-in-a-blanket? They're de

licious-as dear mother makes 'em.

"Now you have tasted her Irish stew, Caudle? You remember that? Come, you're not asleep-you remember that? And how fond you are of it! And I know I never have it made to please you! Well, what a relief to me it would be if dear mother was always at hand that you might have a stew when you liked. What a load it would be off my mind.

"Again, for pickles! Not at all like anybody else's pickles. Her red cabbagewhy, it's as crisp as a biscuit! And then her walnuts and her all-sorts! Eh, Caudle? You know how you love pickles; and how we sometimes tiff about 'em? Now if dear mother was only here, a word would never pass between us. And I'm sure nothing would make me happier, for -you're not asleep, Caudle ?-for I can't bear to quarrel, can I, love?

"The children, too, are so fond of her! And she'd be such a help to me with 'em! I'm sure, with dear mother in the house, I

VOL. I.-W. H.

You

"Here Mrs. Caudle," says her husband, "suddenly went into tears; and I went to sleep."

THE TWELFTH LECTURE.

MR. CAUDLE HAVING COME HOME A LITTLE
66
LATE, DECLARES THAT HENCEFORTII HE
WILL HAVE A KEY."

"UPON my word, Mr. Caudle, I think it
a waste of time to come to bed at all now!
The cocks will be crowing in a minute.
Why did I sit up, then? Because I choose
to sit up-but that's my thanks. No, it's
no use your talking, Caudle; I never will
let the girl sit up for you, and there's an
end. What do you say? Why does she sit
up with me, then? That's quite a different
matter: you don't suppose I'm going to sit
up alone, do you? What do you say?
What's the use of two sitting up? That's
my business. No, Caudle, it's no such a
thing. I don't sit up because I may have
the pleasure of talking about it; and you're
an ungrateful, unfeeling creature, to say so.
I sit up because I choose it; and if you
don't come home all the night long-and
'twill come to that, I've no doubt-still, I'll
never go to bed, so don't think it.

"Oh, yes! the time runs away very pleasantly with you men at your clubsselfish creatures! You can laugh and sing, and tell stories, and never think of the

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