Selfishness. Byrom,—a poet of whom his native town, Manchester, may be justly proud; and his features and figure have been preserved by the most illustrious of his companions on the present occasion,—Hogarth,—in the levée in the "Rake's Progress," and in "Southwark Fair. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously. I've taught him all he can do; and there isn't his fellow, and never will be again. ” “Fame!” “Isn’t it? ‘I’ve not seen your play, Mr. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. ’ ‘And me,’ came the guttural response, ‘I will certainly murder you the very next time I am compelled to see your face. " The crowd accordingly drew aside, and the individual, in whose behalf the movement had been made immediately stepped forward. I am loved. ‘I have the means to compel you.
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