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belong to this class ;-it can surely never be supposed that we wade through "Grammars," "Catechisms," and "Rudiments." We fear not to confess, that we rarely do more than look over the title-page and preface. If the publisher's name be respectable, we inform our readers that we have no doubt they will find the work useful; and if we know nothing about the publisher, we sometimes just say the same thing. This is our general rule; -there are exceptions to it, no doubt, as in the case of Mr Graham's book of the Cupar Academy, reviewed in our last, but we frankly confess that this is our general rule; and our frankness in this instance will not lessen the weight attached to our criticisms in general. The names of Messrs Whittaker and Co., the publishers of the elementary works whose titles we have copied above, and who are known to pay particular attention to this branch of literature, are enough to vouch for their respectability. We must positively, however, object to the definition of Scotland given in the "Rudiments of Geography." Mr Woodbridge is good enough to say,— "Scotland is a rough and mountainous country in the north, with only a few fertile valleys ;" and this is illustrated by a woodcut, representing some bare rocks, a piece of water, and a lean cow! This is really too bad of Mr Woodbridge.

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Scenes Comiques Tirées de Molière, Regnard, Destouches, Le Sage, Casimir Delavigne, &c. &c. Avec les retranchemens necessaires pour rendre cet ouvrage propre à la jeunesse de l'un et l'autre sexe. Londres. Simpkin et Marshall. 1829. 12mo. Pp. 374.

THIS is a tasteful and judicious selection from the best French comic writers, calculated to give the student of that language a just idea of their respective styles. It is very prettily printed, and neatly got up, as Simpkin and Marshall's books always are.



THE great fault of many of the Magazines and other periodicals of the day is, that they are monotonous in their cleverness. Their Editors get into a certain routine, and do it well; but they want versatility on a large scale. Now, we are determined that the LITERARY JOURNAL shall be full at once of cleverness and of variety; and that no mortal reader shall ever be able to predicate what the leading features of the subsequent Number will be from the leading features of the Number that has preceded it. We shall of course ever pay the strictest attention to our review department, and will notice all new books of interest with the most scrupulous care; but at this present moment, just before the bursting of the publishing season, there is a dead calm," not a mouse stirring," and we avail ourselves of the momentary absence of new books, to present our two thousand five hundred subscribers with a delectable selection of miscellaneous articles," any one of which," as the Newspapers say of the embellishments in the Annuals, " is well worth the price of the whole publication." We beseech our friends, however, to enter upon the perusal of the whole with the most perfect confidence, for, in the abundance of our stores, we freely bestow upon them this intellectual treat.



By a Relative. *

My youthful visits to Ammondell live very greenly in my memory: these had greater charms for me than either This article and three others, which are to complete the scries, are from the well-known and able pen of DERWENT CONWAY.-ED.

Horace or Virgil, and, I suspect, charms quite as r tional. None of my holidays were anticipated with longings more eager than those that were to be spent at Ammondell. I had my fishing tackle to arrange, which, to one fond of angling, is a pleasure, secondary only to that of using it. I had to prepare myself in the classics, which, though a less agreeable occupation than the other, was as necessary-certain, as I was, that I should be examined as to my proficiency. Sometimes, also, I ventured upon a verse or two of English poetry, to show to my indulgent relative.

It was soon after Mr Erskine retired from the bar and from political life, that my visits to Ammondell were the most frequent; and it is at this period that my recollections of him are the most vivid. Some say, he retired from public life disgusted; all admit, that he retired neglected— but no one will add, forgotten. Sure I am, that if im pressions made upon the mind of a boy be entitled to regard, I may say truly, that disappointment, if felt idl, had been unable in him to sour the milk of human kindness; and that, when I saw that fine grey-headed manthe most eloquent, the wittiest of his day—walking in his garden, with the hoe in his hand, I never questioned his sincerity in the following charming and characteristic lines, which he once read to me from his scrap-book, and which, not very long before his death, he kindly permitted me to copy. They have never before been published: Let sparks and topers o'er their bottle sit, Toss bumpers down, and fancy laughter wit: Let cautious plodders o'er the ledger pore,

Note down each farthing gain'd, and wish it more :

Let lawyers dream of wigs,-poets, of fame,-
Scholars look learned, and senators declaim:
Let soldiers stand like targets in the fray,

Their lives worth just their thirteen pence a-day ;-
Give me a nook in some secluded spot
Which business shuns, and din approaches not,—
Some quiet retreat, where I may never know
What monarch reigns, what ministers bestow.
A book-my slippers-and a field to stroll in—
My garden-seat—an elbow-chair to loll in;
Sunshine when wanted-shade, when shade invites ;
With pleasant country sounds, and smells, and sights;
And, now and then, a glass of generous wine,
Shared with a chatty friend of "auld lang syne;"
And one companion more, for ever nigh,
To sympathize in all that passes by-
To journey with me on the path of life,
And share its pleasures, and divide its strife.
These simple joys, Eugenius, let me find,
And I'll ne'er cast a lingering look behind.

These lines were written after Mr Erskine's second marriage, and refer, no doubt, in the latter part, to his second wife, who proved a most valuable companion and a tender nurse in his declining years. What degree of happiness his first connexion yielded in his early days, I have no access to know; but the extreme nervous irritability, and somewhat eccentric ways of the first Mrs Erskine, did not contribute greatly to his happiness in her later years.

One of her peculiarities consisted in not retiring to rest at the usual hours. She would frequently employ half the night in examining the wardrobe of the family, to see that nothing was amissing, and that every thing was in its proper place. I recollect being told this among other proofs of her oddities, that one morning, about two or three o'clock, having been unsuccessful in a search, she awoke Mr Erskine by putting to him this important interrogatory, "Harry, lovie, where's your

white waistcoat?"

The mail coach used to set me down at Ammondell gate, which is about three quarters of a mile from the house; and I yet see, as vividly as I at this moment see the landscape from the window at which I am now writing, the features of that beautiful and secluded domain.

the antique stone bridge,-the rushing stream, the wood-
ed banks, and, above all, the owner, coming towards me
with his own benevolent smile and sparkling eyes.
I re-
collect the very grey hat he used to wear, with a bit of
the rim torn, and the pepper-and-salt short coat, and the
white neckcloth sprinkled with snuff.

No one could, or ever did, tire in Mr Erskine's company he was society equally for the child and for the grown man.

He would first take me to see his garden, where, being one day surprised by a friend while digging potatoes, he made the now well-known remark, that he was enjoying otium cum diggin a tautie.* He would then take me to his melon bed, which we never left without a promise of having one after dinner; and then he would carry me to see the pony, and the great dog upon which his grandson, Henry David-now Lord Cardross-used afterwards to ride.


A TALE OF THE SIEGE OF NAMUR. On the morning of the 30th August, 1695, just as the sun began to tinge the dark and blood-stained battlements of Namur, a detachment of Mackay's Scottish regiment made their rounds, relieving the last night-sentinels, and placing those of the morning. As soon as the party returned to their quarters, and relaxed from the formalities of military discipline, their leader, a tall, muscular man, of about middle age, with a keen eye and manly features, though swarthy and embrowned with toil, and wearing an expression but little akin to the gentle or the amiable, moved to an angle of the bastion, and, leaning on his spontoon, fixed an anxious gaze on the rising sun. While he remained in this position, he was approached by another officer, who, slapping him roughly on the shoulder, accosted him in these words,-" What, Monteith! are you in a musing mood? Pray, let me have the benefit of your morning meditations."—" Sir!" said Monteith, turning hastily round,—“ Oh! 'tis you, Keppel. What think you of this morning ?"-" Why, that it will be a glorious day for some; and for you and me, I hope, among others. Do you know that the Elector of Bavaria purposes a ge

Like most men of elegant and cultivated minds, Mr Erskine was an amateur in music, and himself no indifferent performer upon the violin. I think I scarcely ever entered the hall along with him that he did not take down his Cremona a real one, I believe which hung on the wall, and, seating himself in one of the wooden chairs, play somes natches of old English or Scotch airs ;-some-neral assault to-day ?"—" I might guess as much, from times, Let's have a dance upon the heath," an air from the music in Macbeth, which he used to say was by Purcel, and not by Locke, to whom it has usually been ascribed-sometimes, "The flowers of the forest," or "Auld Robin Gray" and sometimes the beautiful Pastorale from the eighth concerto of Corelli, for whose music he had an enthusiastic admiration. But the greatest treat to me was when, after dinner, he took down from the top of his bookcase, where it lay behind a bust, I think, of Mr Fox, his manuscript book, full of jeux d'esprit, charades, bon mots, &c. &c., all his own composition. I was then too young, and, I trust, too modest, to venture any opinion upon their merits; but I well recollect the delight with which I listened, and Mr Erskine was not above being gratified by the silent homage of a youthful mind.

Few men have ever enjoyed a wider reputation for wit than the Honourable Henry Erskine; the epithet then, and even now, applied to him, par excellence, is that of the witty Harry Erskine; and I do believe, that all the puns and bon mots which have been put into his mouth-some of them, no doubt, having originally come out of it— would eke out a handsome duodecimo. I well recollect, that nothing used to pain me so much as not perceiving at once the point of any of Mr Erskine's witticisms. Sometimes, half an hour after the witticism had been spoken, I would begin to giggle, having only then discovered the gist of the saying. In this, however, I was not singular. While Mr Erskine practised at the bar, it was his frequent custom to walk, after the rising of the courts, in the Meadows; and he was often accompanied by Lord Balmuto-one of the judges, a very good kind of man, but not particularly quick in his perception of the ludicrous. His lordship never could discover at first the point of Mr Erskine's wit; and, after walking a mile or two perhaps, and long after Mr Erskine had forgotten the saying, Lord Balmuto would suddenly cry out, "I have you now, Harry—I have you now, Harry!"-stopping, and bursting into an immoderate fit of laughter.

This being a personal reminiscence, I am precluded from saying any thing of Mr Erskine's political career; let me only add, that the ablest man of his day,—the head of the bar, the ornament of the country to which he belonged, was left to cultivate melons, and prune fruit trees, and read charades to a boy like me, while men whoBut no matter; he was a greater man in his pepper-andsalt coat than others in their robes of office. My next reminiscence shall be of Hector Macneil.

The Scotch word for potato.

the preparations going on. Well, would it were to-morrow!"-" Sure you are not afraid, Monteith?"—“ Afraid! It is not worth while to quarrel at present; but methinks you, Keppel, might have spared that word. There are not many men who might utter it and live."—" Nay, I meant no offence: yet permit me to say, that your words and manner are strangely at variance with your usual bearing on a battle-morn."-" Perhaps so," replied Monteith;" and, but that your English prejudices will refuse assent, it might be accounted for. That sun will rise to-morrow with equal power and splendour, gilding this earth's murky vapours, but I shall not behold his glory."—"Now, do tell me some soothful narrative of a second-sighted Seer," said Keppel; " I promise to do my best to believe it. At any rate, I will not laugh outright, I assure you." -“I fear not that. It is no matter to excite mirth; and, in truth, I feel at present strangely inclined to be communicative. Besides, I have a request to make; and I may as well do something to induce you to grant it."“That I readily will, if in my power," replied Keppel. "So, proceed with your story, if you please."-" Listen attentively, then-and be at once my first and my last confident.



Shortly after the battle of Bothwell Bridge, I joined the troop commanded by Irvine of Bonshaw; and gloriously did we scour the country, hunting the rebel Covenanters, and acting our pleasure upon man, woman, and child, person and property. I was then but young, and, for a time, rather witnessed than acted in the wild and exciting commission which we so amply discharged. But use is all in all. Ere half a dozen years had sped their round, I was one of the prettiest men in the troop at every thing. It was in the autumn of 1684, as I too well remember, that we were engaged in beating up haunts of the Covenanters on the skirts of Galloway and Ayrshire. A deep mist, which covered the moors thick as a shroud-friendly at times to the Whigs, but, in the present instance, their foe-concealed our approach, till we were close upon a numerous conventicle. We hailed, and bade them stand; but, trusting to their mosses and glens, they scattered and fled. We pursued in various directions, pressing hard upon the fugitives. In spite of several morasses which I had to skirt, and difficult glens to thread, being well mounted, I gained rapidly on a young mountaineer, who, finding escape by flight impossible, bent his course to a house at a short distance, as hoping for shelter there, like a hare to her form. I shouted to him to stand; he ran on. Again I hailed him; but he heeded not. When, dreading to lose all trace of him, should he gain the house, I fired. The bullet took effect. He fell, and his heart's blood gushed on his father's

threshold. Just at that instant an aged woman, alarmed by the gallop of my horse, and the report of the pistol, rushed to the door, and, stumbling, fell upon the body of her dying son. She raised his drooping head upon her knee, kissed his bloody brow, and screamed aloud, Oh! God of the widow and the fatherless! have mercy on me!' One ghastly, convulsive shudder shook all her nerves, and the next moment they were calm as the steel of my sword; then raising her pale and shrivelled countenance, every feature of which was fixed in the calm, unearthly earnestness of utter despair, or perfect resignation, she addressed me, every word falling distinct and piercing on my ear like dropping musketry,— And hast thou this day made me a widowed, childless mother? Hast thou shed the precious blood of this young servant of Jehovah? And canst thou hope that thy lot will be one of unmingled happiness? Go! red-handed persecutor! Follow thine evil way! But hear one message of truth from a feeble and unworthy tongue. Remorse, like a bloodhound, shall dog thy steps; and the serpent of an evil conscience shall coil around thy heart. From this hour, thou shalt never know peace. Thou shalt seek death, and long to meet it as a friend; but it shall flee thee: And when thou shalt begin to love life, and dread death, then shall thine enemy come upon thee; and thou shalt not escape. Hence to thy bloody comrades, thou second Cain! thou accursed and banished from the face of Heaven and of mercy! Foul hag!' I exclaimed, 'it would take little to make me send thee to join thy psalm-singing offspring ! Well do I know that thou wouldst, if thou wert permitted!' replied she. • But go thy way, and bethink thee how thou wilt answer to thy Creator for this morning's work!' And, ceasing to regard me, she stooped her head over the dead body of her son. I could endure no more, but wheeled round, and galloped off to join my companions.

"From that hour, I felt myself a doomed and miserable man. In vain did I attempt to banish from my mind the deed I had done, and the words I had heard. In the midst of mirth and revelry, the dying groan of the youth, and the words of doom spoken by his mother, rung for ever in my ears, converting the festal board to a scene of carnage and horror, till the very wine-cup seemed to foam over with hot-bubbling gore. Once I tried—laugh, if you will-I tried to pray; but the clotted locks of the dying man, and the earnest gaze of the soul-stricken mother, came betwixt me and Heaven,-my lip faltered-my breath stopped-my very soul stood still; for I knew that my victims were in Paradise, and how could I think of happiness-I, their murderer,-in one common home with them? Despair took possession of my whole being. I rushed voluntarily to the centre of every deadliest peril, in hopes to find an end to my misery. Yourself can bear me witness that I have ever been the first to meet, the last to retire from, danger. Often, when I heard the battle-signal given, and when I passed the trench, or stormed the breach, in front of my troop, it was less to gain applause and promotion, than to provoke the encounter of death. 'Twas all in vain. I was doomed not to die, while I longed for death. And now

"Well, by your own account, you run no manner of risk, and at the same time are proceeding on a rapid career of military success," said Keppel; "and, for my life, I cannot see why that should afflict you, supposing it all perfectly true."

I became quite a favourite with the old man, and procured ready access to the company of his child. But I was sufficiently piqued to find, that, in spite of all my gallantry, I could not learn whether I had made any impression upon the heart of the laughing Fanchon. What peace and playful toying could not accomplish, war and sorrow did. We were called out of winter-quarters, to commence what was anticipated to be a bloody campaign. I obtained an interview to take a long and doubtful farewell. In my arms the weeping girl owned her love, and pledged her hand, should I survive to return once more to Brussels. Keppel, I am a doomed man; and my doom is about to be accomplished! Formerly I wished to die; but death fled me. Now I wish to live; and death will come upon me! I know I shall never more see Brussels, nor my lovely little Fleming. Wilt thou carry her my last farewell; and tell her to forget a man who was unworthy of her love-whose destiny drove him to love, and be beloved, that he might experience the worst of human wretchedness? You'll do this for me, Keppel ?"

"If I myself survive, I will. But this is some delusion-some strong dream. I trust it will not unnerve your arm in the moment of the storm." "No! may die-must die; but it shall be in front of my troop, or in the middle of the breach. Yet how I long to escape this doom! I have won enough of glory; I despise pillage and wealth; but I feel my very heartstrings shrink from the now-terrible idea of final dissolution. Oh! that the fatal hour were past, or that I had still my former eagerness to die! Keppel, if I dared, I would to-day own myself a coward!"

"Come with me," said Keppel, "C to my quarters. The night air has made you aguish. The cold fit will yield to a cup of as generous Rhine-wine as ever was drunk on the banks of the Sambre." Monteith consented, and the two moved off to partake of the stimulating and substantial comforts of a soldier's breakfast in the Netherlands.

It was between one and two in the afternoon. An unusual stillness reigned in the lines of the besiegers. The garrison remained equally silent, as watching, in deep suspense, on what point the storm portended by this terrible calm would burst. A single piece of artillery was discharged. Instantly a body of grenadiers rushed from the intrenchments, struggled over masses of ruins, and mounted the breach. The shock was dreadful. Man strove with man, and blow succeeded to blow with fierce and breathless energy. The English reached the summit, but were almost immediately beaten back, leaving num¬ bers of their bravest grovelling among the blackened fragments. Their leader, Lord Cutts, had himself received a dangerous wound in the head; but disregarding it, he selected two hundred men from Mackay's regiment, and putting them under the command of Lieutenants Cockle and Monteith, sent them to restore the fortunes of the assault. Their charge was irresistible. Led on by Monteith, who displayed a wild and frantic desperation, rather than bravery, they broke through all impediments, drove the French from the covered way, seized on one of the batteries, and turned the cannon against the enemy. To enable them to maintain this advantage, they were reinforced by parties from other divisions. vancing in one of those parties, discovered the mangled form of his friend Monteith, lying on heaps of the enemy on the very summit of the captured battery. He attempted to raise the seemingly lifeless body. Monteith opened his eyes,-" Save me!" he cried; save me! I will not die! I dare not-I must not die!"


Keppel, ad

"Because you have not yet heard the whole. But listen a few minutes longer. During last winter, our division, as you know, was quartered in Brussels, and was very kindly entertained by the wealthy and good- It were too horrid to specify the ghastly nature of the natured Flemings. Utterly tired of the heartless dissipa- mortal wounds which had torn and disfigured his frame. tion of life in a camp, I endeavoured to make myself To live was impossible. Yet Keppel strove to render agreeable to my landlord, that I might obtain a more in-him some assistance, were it but to soothe his parting spitimate admission into his family circle. To this I was rit. Again he opened his glazing eyes,-" I will resist the more incited, that I expected some pleasure in the so- thee to the last!" he cried, in a raving delirium. ciety of his daughter. In all I succeeded to my wish, killed him but in the discharge of my duty. What worse

" I

was I than others? Poor consolation now! The doom -the doom! I cannot dare not-must not-will not die !" And while the vain words were gurgling in his throat, his head sunk back on the body of a slaughtered foe, and his unwilling spirit forsook his shattered carcass.


By Henry G. Bell.

σε τὸν δέ ἴδων ρίγησε βοὴν ἄγαθος Διομήδης.” "There was not a Dutchman who did not tremble at the sight." KNICKERBOCKER'S Free Translation.

He who has been at Rotterdam, will remember a house of two stories which stands in the suburbs just adjoining the basin of the canal that runs between that city and the Hague, Leyden, and other places. I say he will remember it, for it must have been pointed out to him as having been once inhabited by the most ingenious artist that Holland ever produced, to say nothing of his daughter, the prettiest maiden ever born within hearing of the croaking of a frog. It is not with the fair Blanche, unfortunately, that we have at present any thing to do; it is with the old gentleman her father. His profession was that of a surgical-instrument maker, but his fame principally rested on the admirable skill with which he constructed wooden and cork legs. So great was his reputation in this department of human science, that they whom nature or accident had curtailed, caricatured, and disappointed in so very necessary an appendage to the body, came limping to him in crowds, and, however desperate their case might be, were very soon (as the saying is) set upon their legs again. Many a cripple, who had looked upon his deformity as incurable, and whose only consolation consisted in an occasional sly hit at Providence, for having intrusted his making to a journeyman, found himself so admirably fitted,- -so elegantly propped up by Mynheer Turning vort,—that he almost began to doubt whether a timber or cork supporter was not, on the whole, superior to a more commonplace and troublesome one of flesh and blood. And, in good truth, if you had seen how very handsome and delicate were the understandings fashioned by the skilful artificer, you would have been puzzled to settle the question yourself, the more especially if, in your real toes, you were ever tormented with gout or corns.

ving at home. A dentist soon supplied the invalid with three teeth, which he had pulled out of an indigent poet's head at the rate of ten stivers a-piece, but for which he prudently charged the rich merchant one hundred dollars. The doctor, upon examining his leg, and recollecting that he was at that moment rather in want of a subject, cut it carefully off, and took it away with him in his carriage to lecture upon it to his pupils. So Mynheer Wodenblock, considering that he had been hitherto accustomed to walk and not to hop, and being, perhaps, somewhat prejudiced in favour of the former mode of locomotion, sent for our friend at the canal basin, in order that he might give him directions about the representative, with which he wished to be supplied for his lost member.

"I do not

The artificer entered the wealthy burgher's apartment. He was reclining on a couch, with his left leg looking as respectable as ever, but with his unhappy right stump its own littleness. "Turning vort, you have heard of my wrapped up in bandages, as if conscious and ashamed of misfortune; it has thrown me into a fever, and all Rotterdam into confusion; but let that pass. You must make me a leg; and it must be the best leg, sir, you ever care what it costs;" Turningvort bowed yet lower; "promade in your life." Turningvort bowed. vided it outdoes every thing you have yet made of a similar sort. I am for none of your wooden spindleshanks. Make it of cork; let it be light and elastic; and cram it as full of springs as a watch. I know nothing of the business, and cannot be more specific in my directions; but this I am determined upon, that I shall have a leg as good as the one I have lost. I know such a thing is to be had, and if I get it from you, your reward is a thousand guineas. The Dutch Prometheus declared, that to please Mynheer Von Wodenblock, he would do more than human ingenuity had ever done before, and undertook to bring him, within six days, a leg which would laugh to scorn the mere common legs possessed by common men. This assurance was not meant as an idle boast. Turningvort was a man of speculative as well as practical science, and there was a favourite discovery which he had long been endeavouring to make, and in accomplishing which, he imagined he had at last succeeded that very morning. Like all other manufacturers of terrestrial legs, he had ever found the chief difficulty in his progress toOne morning, just as Master Turning vort was giving sible to introduce into them any thing in the shape of wards perfection, to consist in its being apparently imposits final smoothness and polish to a calf and ankle, a joints, capable of being regulated by the will, and of permessenger entered his studio, to speak classically, and re-forming those important functions achieved under the quested that he would immediately accompany him to the mansion of Mynheer Von Wodenblock. It was the mansion of the richest merchant in Rotterdam, so the artist put on his best wig, and set forth with his three

cornered hat in one hand, and his silver-headed stick in

present system, by means of the admirable mechanism of
the knee and ankle.
endeavouring to obviate this grand inconvenience, and
Our philosopher had spent years in
though he had undoubtedly made greater progress than
completely master of the great secret.
any body else, it was not till now that he believed himself
His first attempt
to carry it into execution was to be in the leg he was
about to make for Mynheer Von Wodenblock.
which I have already alluded, that with this magic leg,
It was on the evening of the sixth day from that to
carefully packed up, the acute artisan again made his ap-
pearance before the expecting and impatient Wodenblock.
There was a proud twinkle in Turningvort's grey eve
which seemed to indicate, that he valued even the thou-
sand guineas, which he intended for Blanche's marriage
portion, less than the celebrity, the glory, the immortali-

the other. It so happened that Mynheer Von Wodenblock had been very laudably employed, a few days before, in turning a poor relation out of doors, but in endeavouring to hasten the odious wretch's progress down stairs by a slight impulse a posteriore, (for Mynheer seldom stood upon ceremony with poor relations,) he had unfortunately lost his balance, and tumbling headlong from the top to the bottom, he found, on recovering his senses, that he had broken his right leg, and that he had lost three teeth. He had at first some thoughts of having his poor relation tried for murder; but being naturally of a merciful disposition, he only sent him to jail on account of some unpaid debt, leaving him there to enjoy the com- precious bundle, and spent some hours in displaying and fortable reflection, that his wife and children were star- explaining to the delighted burgher the number of ad*It is three years since the above tale was first written and pub-ditions he had made to the internal machinery, and the lished anonymously. It has since been copied into many newspapers, purpose which each was intended to serve. and has even found its way into the Oriental Observer of Calcutta. The author hopes he may be excused for now giving it a less ephemeral wheels, and springs acting upon springs. When it was wore away in these discussions concerning wheels within

existence in the pages of the LITERARY JOURNAL, the more es

ty, of which he was at length so sure.

He untied his

The evening

peelly as an attempt was made by an anonymous writer in Black-time to retire to rest, both were equally satisfied of the wool's Magazine, some months ago, to appropriate to himself what perfection of the work; and at his employer's earnest request, the artist consented to remain where he was for

little merit there may be in the incidents of the story, which are purely imaginary, and founded upon no tradition whatever.

the night, in order that early next morning he might fit He did so at last, nevertheless, and, catching him in his on the limb, and see how it performed its duty.

Early next morning all the necessary arrangements were completed, and Mynheer Von Wodenblock walked forth to the street in ecstasy, blessing the inventive powers of one who was able to make so excellent a hand of his leg. It seemed indeed to act to admiration ; in the merchant's mode of walking, there was no stiffness, no effort, no constraint. All the joints performed their office without the aid of either bone or muscle. Nobody, not even a connoisseur in lameness, would have suspected that there was any thing uncommon, any great collection of accurately adjusted clock-work under the full wellslashed pantaloons of the substantial-looking Dutchman. Had it not been for a slight tremulous motion occasioned by the rapid whirling of about twenty small wheels in the interior, and a constant clicking, like that of a watch, though somewhat louder, he would even himself have forgotten that he was not, in all respects, as he used to be, before he lifted his right foot to bestow a parting benediction on his poor relation.

In an

arms, lifted him entirely from the ground. But the stra-
tagem (if so it may be called) did not succeed, for the in-
nate propelling motion of the leg hurried him on along
with his burden at the same rate as before. He set him
therefore down again, and stooping, pressed violently on
one of the springs that protruded a little behind.
instant the unhappy Mynheer Von Wodenblock was off
like an arrow, calling out in the most piteous accents,
"I am lost! I am lost! I am possessed by a devil in the
shape of a cork leg! Stop me! for Heaven's sake, stop me!
I am breathless-I am fainting! Will nobody shatter my
leg to pieces? Turningvort! Turningvort! you have
murdered me!" The artist, perplexed and confounded,
was hardly in a situation more to be envied. Scarcely
knowing what he did, he fell upon his knees, clasped his
hands, and with strained and staring eyeballs, looked
after the richest merchant in Rotterdam, running with
the speed of an enraged buffalo, away along the canal to-
wards Leyden, and bellowing for help as loudly as his ex-
haustion would permit.

Leyden is more than twenty miles from Rotterdam, but the sun had not yet set, when the Misses Backsneider, who were sitting at their parlour window, immediately opposite the "Golden Lion," drinking tea, and nodding to their friends as they passed, saw some one coming at furious speed along the street. His face was pale as ashes, and he gasped fearfully for breath; but, without turning either to the right or the left, he hurried by at the same rapid state, and was out of sight almost before they had time to exclaim, "Good gracious! was not that Mynheer Von Wodenblock, the rich merchant of Rotterdam?"

Next day was Sunday. The inhabitants of Haarlem were all going to church, in their best attire, to say their prayers, and hear their great organ, when a being rushed across the market-place, like an animated corpse,-white, blue, cold, and speechless, his eyes fixed, his lips livid, his teeth set, and his hands clenched. Every one cleared a way for it in silent horror; and there was not a person in Haarlem, who did not believe it a dead body endowed with the power of motion.

He walked along in the renovated buoyancy of his spirits till he came in sight of the Stadt House; and just at the foot of the flight of steps that lead up to the principal door, he saw his old friend, Mynheer Vanoutern, waiting to receive him. He quickened his pace, and both mutually held out their hands to each other by way of congratulation, before they were near enough to be clasped in a friendly embrace. At last the merchant reached the spot where Vanoutern stood; but what was that worthy man's astonishment to see him, though he still held out his hand, pass quickly by, without stopping, even for a moment, to say, "How d'ye do?" But this seeming want of politeness arose from no fault of our hero's. His own astonishment was a thousand times greater, when he found that he had no power whatever to determine either when, where, or how his leg was to move. So long as his own wishes happened to coincide with the manner in which the machinery seemed destined to operate, all had gone on smoothly; and he had mistaken his own tacit compliance with its independent and self-acting powers for a command over it which he now found he did not possess. It had been his most anxious desire to stop On it went through village and town, towards the great to speak with Mynheer Vanoutern, but his leg moved on, wilds and forests of Germany. Weeks, months, years, and he found himself under the necessity of following it. past on, but at intervals the horrible shape was seen, and Many an attempt did he make to slacken his pace, but still continues to be seen, in various parts of the north of every attempt was vain. He caught hold of the rails, Europe. The clothes, however, which he who was once walls, and houses, but his leg tugged so violently, that he Mynheer Von Wodenblock used to wear, have all moulwas afraid of dislocating his arms, and was obliged to go dered away; the flesh, too, has fallen from his bones, and on. He began to get seriously uneasy as to the conse- he is now a skeleton-a skeleton in all but the cork leg, quences of this most unexpected turn which matters had which still, in its original rotundity and size, continues taken; and his only hope was, that the amazing and un-attached to the spectral form, a perpetuum mobile, dragknown powers, which the complicated construction of ging the wearied bones for ever and for ever over the his leg seemed to possess, would speedily exhaust them- earth! selves. Of this, however, he could as yet discover no May all good saints protect us from broken legs! and symptoms. may there never again appear a mechanician like TurnHe happened to be going in the direction of the Ley-ingvort, to supply us with cork substitutes of so awful den Canal; and when he arrived in sight of Mynheer and mysterious a power! Turningvort's house, he called loudly upon the artificer to come to his assistance. The artificer looked out from his window with a face of wonder. "Villain !" cried Woden.. block," come out to me this instant!-You have made me a leg with a vengeance !-It won't stand still for a moment. I have been walking straight forward ever since I left my own house, and, unless you stop me yourself, Heaven only knows how much farther I may walk. -Don't stand gaping there, but come out and relieve me, or I shall be out of sight, and you will not be able to overtake me." The mechanician grew very pale; he was evidently not prepared for this new difficulty. He lost not a moment, however, in following the merchant to do what he could towards extricating him from so awkward a predicament. The merchant, or rather the merchant's leg, was walking very quick, and Turningvort, being an elderly man, found it no easy matter to make up to him.

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[Pope Julius II. was as unpriestly a priest as can well be imagined It is only the outset of his career that is described in the following stanzas; but it is a prelude worthy the future life of one who made it his boast, that "he threw St Peter's keys into the Tiber, and took to the sword of St Paul."]

A HERO'S fame hath slept in silence long,

Who well deserves to have his name recorded
In the bright blazon-book of numerous song;
No more his deeds in silence shall be hoarded,
Nor muse forgetful do his memory wrong:

Faults had he of all kinds except the sordid,—
Virtues but few, and yet his courage high
Sways us, against our will, to sympathy.

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