There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. A constant attendant at court, he had the mortification to see every one promoted but himself, and thus bewails his ill-luck. On the envelope was written— Sydney Courtlaw, Esq. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. “Are there others like you?” “Yes. Jonathan aimed a blow at him, which, if it had taken place, must have instantly terminated the strife; but, avoiding this, he sprang at the thief-taker, and grappled with him.
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