Let us take for another example of the daily domestic romance—

THE STRANGE CAT.

How vividly, among the events of our boyish days, do we remember the "strange cat" that got into the lumber-room at the top of the house! Our elder brother and "the boy" had endeavoured to dislodge the animal, which figured in their description as a thing of intense blackness and monstrous dimensions, with great frightful staring green eyes, horrid long claws, and such a tail! Not "frightened of cats were we, for we had a favourite one of our own; but this—it trebled in magnitude and horror the wildest and most savage inhabitants of the then Exeter Change. Their own fears had magnified the "strange cat" into a monster; and then they wilfully enlarged the picture to terrify us-a feat, in which they succeeded, as we dared not go to the upper rooms alone. For two or three days this "reign of terror" lasted; when, a favourable opportunity being watched for, the "young master" and the "young man" marched up, broom and brush in hand, to hunt out this strange secreted intruder— the black tiger of the upper wilderness. As for our tiny self, we had ventured a part of the way up-stairs to witness the result, imagining that the enemy would make its exit by an attic window. Oh horror! A loud knocking was heard above; a tremendous shouting next arose, succeeded instantly by an appalling cry of "Here it comes!" This was, shall we say enough?—it was too much; we turned and flew down-stairs-the last "flight" of stairs being, with the aid of the handrail, but one leap. The street door! No, we could not open it. Against it then we set our back in an agony of fear, and uttered a cry that would have terrified a whole legion of cats. The hunters were in full cry. Down came the wild animal, followed by brooms and brushes, bounding and rattling over the stairs— a clatter that rent the roof. What saw we then? Not a poor half-starved frightened animal leaping over the banisters to get out of our way, and to escape through the garden-door; no, of this piteous, this actual spectacle we saw nothing,—but in its place—this!

This little "tail-piece" expanded to the dimensions of a full-sized Newfoundland dog, surrounded by a blaze of fire, will convey some idea of what, in the extremity of our apprehensions, we actually did see.

A SHORT CRUISE AT MARGATE.

BEING at Margate the other day, we strolled, in company with "THE OLD SAILOR," down to the "Jetty," where we were accosted by the veteran Hemptage, a boatman of the old school, who, with a salute, inquired "Will you take a trip this morning, Sir ?"

"Not if it blows," answered the Old Sailor, assuming as much as possible the look and manners of a landsman, “I have made up my mind never to go sailing if there's a breath of wind."

The old man gave him a look, which spoke as plainly as look could-" Here's a precious lubber, to talk of sailing without wind."

"It would be on possible to move a-head and no breeze, Sir."

"I don't care for that," rejoined the Old Sailor, "I am very timid on the water; but if you're sure there's no danger, and it will be quite calm (it was nearly so), I will venture to take a sail."

Danger!" repeated the veteran somewhat contemptuously, though there was an expression of doubt and suspicion on his countenance that seemed to say " I think you're a gammoning me." "What danger can there be when there's hardly wind enough to fill the canvas?

After some further conversation relative to the perils of the ocean, which drew forth some scornful glances from the veteran, we embarked in a pretty green boat, with two masts or poles, one sticking up behind and the other near the middle, to which sails were fastened. Whilst Hemptage was loosing what we believe is named the main-sail, the Old Sailor jumped aft to set what he called the "lug mizen," and he was shoving out a pole from the stern, right over the water. We immediately informed the boatman that our companion was "meddling with the things at the other end," and the veteran promptly turned round and exclaimed, "You'd better let that ere alone, Sir. You'll find somut as 'ull puzzle you there."

"Avast, old boy!" returned the Old Sailor, laughing; "I've rigged out as many bumkins* as you have in my time."

*The bumkin is the spar that projects out from the stern to haul the mizen-sheet home.-Naval Dictionary. Here, however, it is probable that a double entendre was

meant.

"Ay, ay," drawled out the veteran-" hang me if I didn't think so by the cut of your jib-I thought it was all gammon, and you knowed better than to go sailing without wind."

"You have belonged to a man-of-war," said the Old Sailor, as we were standing off from the shore.

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Why, yes, I've had a spell at it," returned Hemptage somewhat knowingly, "I was in the owld Hyacinth with Tommy Ussher, and a better Captain never walked a ship's quarter-deck. I was with him too in the Ondaunted frigate up the Mediterranean

"What! were you in her, in Frejus Bay, when Buonaparte embarked for Elba," inquired the Old Sailor.

"Why to be sure I was, and remembers it well enough," returned he with animation. "And the first thing Boney did when he got aboard was to come forud on to the foksle and have a yarn with the foksle men*."

"What sort of a man was he?" we asked with quickness.

"What sort of a man," reiterated the veteran, "why a stout good-looking chap enough, only very swarthy. Them images as the Italian boys brings about is very like, only I never seed him in that little cocked hat."

Why what did he wear then?" inquired we with some eagerness.

"Oh he wore a round hatt," replied Hemptage," and he used to lean against the breech of the foksle gun aud spin yarns with us for the hour together." "Well!" we thought, we never shall have done with Boney." We had never drawn him in a round hat, and the temptation was too strong to be resisted-so we have accordingly placed him at the head of this article-and as of course he would have a fashionable beaver, we have given him one of the shape of that period, and placed him in contrast with himself.-Boney versus Boney-cock'd hat against round.

It may be said "What's in a hat?" And when upon the head it becomes a rather important question. In many cases the answer would be "not much," but with respect to Napoleon it certainly must be admitted that there was something in it.

"But (we asked in continuation of our conversation) how could you talk with Buonaparte-did he speak English ?"

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O yes, pretty well, considering-very well for him," replied Hemptage, "he mixed a little of his own lingo up with it—but we made it out. During the passage he used very often to come forud, and he told us he liked English sailors, and one had wounded him once at Toulon."

Fully aware that the fact of Napoleon's being wounded at Toulon had long been a disputed point, we questioned the man, and received the following

statement:

Why," said the veteran, "he told us the English made a sortie, as they call it, and drove the French before them. Boney run as well as the rest, and an English seaman chaced after him; but whether the man was tired, or thought he'd gone far enough, he didn't know, but he gave him a shove in the starn with his bagonet, and said, "TAKE THAT, YOU FRENCH LUBBER. The sailor might have killed him if he had been so disposed, but he acted generously and spared

* In No. CXLIII. of the United Service Journal, Sir Thomas Ussher has given an interesting account of the embarkation and conveyance of Napoleon from Frejus to Elba, in which we find the following passage :-" On arriving alongside, I immediately went up the side to receive the Emperor on the quarter-deck. He took his hat off, and bowed to the officers who were assembled on the deck. He then immediately went orward to the forecastle amongst the people, and I found him there talking to some of the men, conversing with those among them who understood a little French."

In another part of the same article, in the United Service Journal, Sir Thomas Ussher says--"This evening a small trading vessel passed near us, I ordered her to be examined; and as Napoleon was anxious to know the news, I desired the Captain to be sent on board. Napoleon was on the quarter-deck-he had a great coat and round hat on." At another place, after their arrival at Elba-" At eight, the Emperor asked me for a boat, as he intended taking a walk on the opposite side of the bay. He wore a great coat and a round hat."

his life. And,' says Boney, if ever I could have discovered the man who acted so nobly, I would have made him comfortable for life. The wound was in his thigh."

Now had that Jack Tar taken one step further, or have made a deadly thrust, the fate of Major Buonaparte would have been sealed at Toulon, and the world would never have heard of the EMPEROR NAPOLEON. We fancy we hear some of our Hibernian friends exclaiming, " Faith, then, and it's a pity the sailor didn't know that Boney would be after doing so much mischief."

Thus conversing and moralising, we finished our "Short cruise at Margate." Hemptage is approaching his seventieth year, and his countenance displays the colours of a thorough seaman. He has been several times wounded, but looking hale and hearty. When paid off he was refused a pension-visitors will find him a pleasant shipmate in a trip-and the lovers of the marvellous may enjoy the satisfaction of conversing with a man who has seen and talked with " Bony party."

a live

EPIGRAMS.

"Buonaparte was certainly, as Sir John Carr called him, a 'splendid scoundrel,' but he was a scoundrel still."-Daily Paper.

Not so, for if a scoundrel-doubt who will-
Napoleon was a scoundrel, never still!

J

Scene-OUTSIDE OF THE GREYHOUND INN. "You'll take a glass of ale or so?

Here's double X upon the door;" "Is there," says John, "then I don't goIt so reminds me of a score!"

THE MALADY OF DEBT.

Some people often have, they say,
What's call'd the "Maladie de pays"-
But Schneider of his customers was saying,
They had the malady of never paying.

C. H. W.