ignorant, to proclaim him a misanthrope and a monster; but from the boldness and feeling expressed in these, she concluded that he must be a man of kind heart and amiable disposition. Experience did not disappoint her; and though she entered the apartment with faultering steps and a palpitating heart, she soon found courage to state her request, which she did in the most simple and delicate manner. He heard it with the most marked attention, and the keenest sympathy; and when she had completed, he, as if to avert her thoughts from a subject which could not but be painful to her, began to converse in words so fascinating, and tones so gentle, that she hardly perceived that he had been writing, until he put a folded slip of paper into her hand, saying that that was his subscription, and he most heartily wished her success; "But,' "added he,

66

we are both young and the world is very censorious; and so, if I were to take any active part in the promoting of your subscription, I fear it would do you harm rather than good." The young lady, overpowered by the prudence and delicacy of his conduct, took her leave, and, upon opening in the street the paper, which, in her agitation, she had not previously looked at, she found it was a draught upon his banker for fifty pounds.

Another instance, which happened about the same time, is, though it did not require the same delicacy, equally characteristic. A young man from a distant part of the country, who had quarrelled with his father, in consequence of having squandered a small sum of money, was friendless, and almost pennyless, in the metropolis; and at last wrote a little poem, or rather a succession of bad rhymes, which he offered to the booksellers. Most of them rejected the proffered poem with scorn; but at last the writer met with one who said that, if ten pounds were given him, he would publish it, and give the writer half the profits. Elated with this, he sallied into the streets, and had wandered as far as Piccadilly, ere he knew what he was about or whither he was going. Exhausted at last, he stood still at the front entrance of the Albany, with his manuscript in his hand. Byron happened to pass; and his notice being drawn by something peculiar in the young man's appearance, he accosted him. The whole story came out; and the rustic rhymester was taken into the apartment of the bard. "And so you say you have quarrelled with your father?" said

Byron.

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"Yes," said the young man, hanging down his head. And you could get a chance of half the profits of your poem for ten pounds?" Yes," said the young man again, raising himself up. "And for how much could you be reconciled to your father?" said Byron again. For ten pounds also," said the young man. "Then," said Byron, "there is ten pounds, give it to him, and let him publish the poem if he pleases; and there are other five for yourself, to hasten you on your way." The young man was astonished; and before he could turn round to thank his benefactor, that benefactor had disappeared

MONSIEUR ALEXANDRE, The celebrated Ventriloquist.

Monsieur Alexandre, the celebrated Ventriloquist, was on a visit a few days ago to Sir Walter Scott, at Abbotsford, and having chanced to mention to his distinguished host, that he kept a sort of Album, or Scrap-book, in which were reposited various tributes which had been paid to his talents by many eminent individuals of the countries he had visited, Sir Walter stept aside, while the carriage was getting ready for his guest's departure, and immediately presented to him the following good-humoured and characteristic lines :--

TO MONS. ALEXANDRE.

Of yore, in Old England, it was not thought good,

To carry two faces under one hood:

What should folks say to you, who have faces

such plenty,

That from under one hood you last night shew'd us twenty!

Stand forth, arch deceiver! and tell us, in truth,

Are you handsome or ugly, in age or in youth? Man, woman, or child? or a dog, or a mouse? Or are you, at once, each live thing in the house?

Each live thing, did I ask? each dead implement too!

A work-shop in person-saw, chisel, and screw,
Above all, are you one individual? I know
You must be, at the least Alexander and Co.
But I think you're a troop-an assemblage-
a mob-

And that I, as the Sheriff, must take up the job
And, instead of rebearsing your wonders in

verse,

Must read you the riot act, and bid you dispe; se!* WALTER SCOTT.

Abbotsford, 23d April.

"LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP."

A gentleman of considerable property, with three handsome daughters, having removed with his family, sent one of his servants to an upholsterer in the neighbourhood to come to his house the next morning at nine o'clock, intending to give him some directions relative to curtains, chair-covers, &c. It happened the preceding night that one of the gentleman's daughters was taken suddenly ill, and as she grew worse every hour, and the family apothecary lived at some distance, a servant was at eight o'clock in the morning dispatched to desire the attendance of any apothecary he could find. He returned in a short time, and told them he had met one, who would wait upon them as soon as possible. The servant was dispatched into the city for a female relation, and had scarce left the house before a rap at the door announced a visitor. The two sisters both running to the bed-room window at the same time, and seeing a good-looking man, to whose person they were a stranger, concluded he was their new apothecary, and sent down their own maid to let him in, and show him up stairs. The girl eagerly ran to the door, and received him with, "Sir, I am glad you are come, my lady has waited for you, be so good as to walk up stairs."

The upholsterer, for such was the new visitor, imagined there was some extraordinary emergency, and was ushered up one pair of stairs, and expected to have been introduced to the drawingroom, but instead, was shown up another pair, and ushered into a bed-room, where were two beautiful females ready to receive him, and a third in bed. The curtains were drawn, and every appearance of privacy. This surprised him, and his surprise was farther increased by one of them telling him she was glad he was come, desiring him to sit down by the bed-side, beginning with "You cannot imagine, Sir, what a terrible night my sister has had, no rest, pains in her head, violent perspirations, and every bad symptom.""I am extremely sorry for it, madam.". Appears to have every symptom of a fever.' Bad account, indeed, Madam."-" Be so good, Sir, as to look at her tongue; put your arm out of the bed, my dear." Which the young lady complying with, the upholsterer got an opportunity of putting in a word, and said, "From all

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these circumstances, he thought-he conceived-he apprehended, that they had "For better send for an apothecary."an apothecary!-for an apothecary !— for an apothecary!" screamed all three together, "why are not you an apothecary?" Down dropt the sick young

lady, and covered herself with the bedclothes, and out ran the other two, frightened out of their wits. "Was there ever such a mistake, such a blunder,

pray, Sir, who are you? whence come you? who sent for you?" By this time the whole house was in one general confusion from the top to the bottom, when the matriculated apothecary, rapping at the street door, and the upholsterer being introduced to the master of the house, developed the whole mystery.

DELINEATION OF A PERSON DESTINED FOR LONG LIFE. (By Dr. Hufeland.)

He has a proper and well proportioned stature, without, however, being too tall. He is rather of the middle size, and somewhat thick-set. His complexion is not too florid; at any rate, too much ruddiness in youth is seldom a sign of longevity. His hair approaches rather to the fair than the black; his skin is strong, but not rough. His head is not too big; he has large veins at the extremities, and his shoulders are rather round than flat. His neck is not too long; his belly does not project; and his hands are large, but not too deeply cleft. His foot is rather thick than long; and his legs are firm and round. He has also a broad arched chest: a strong voice, and the faculty of retaining his breath for a long time without difficulty. In general, there is a complete harmony in all his parts. His senses are good, but not too delicate; his pulse is slow and regular.

His stomach is excellent, his appetite good, and his digestion easy. The joys of the table are to him of inrtance; they tune his mind to serenity, and his soul partakes in the pleasure which they communicate. He does not eat merely for the sake of eating; but each meal is an hour of daily festivity; a kind of delight attended with this advantage, in regard to others, that it does not make him poorer but richer. He eats slowly, and has not too much thirst. Too great thirst is always a sign of rapid selfconsumption.

In general, he is serene, loquacious

PRINTERS' DEVILS. Old Lucifer, both kind and civil, To every Printer lends a Devil; But, balancing accounts each winter, For every Devil takes a Printer.

ANECDOTES.

The following anecdote was related by Bishop Latimer, in a sermon preached before King Edward VI:---When an order was made by the Roman Catholic authorities in the reign of Queen Mary, that a 66 goodly rood,' or image of Christ, should be placed in every parish church, the officers of Cockram parish, near Lancaster, agreed with a carver to furnish them with an image, or rood. But the workman who proved to be a very indifferent artist, made them a figure so ugly and hideous, that the women and children, instead of being induced to attend the church by the beauty of the image, were frightened away. On this account the churchwardens refused to pay the carver's bill. The carver, therefore, summoned the officers before the Mayor of Lancaster, to enforce his demand. They accordingly attended, and when asked why they did not pay the bill, they replied that their engagement was for a goodly rood, and this was so frightful, that it did not answer the purpose. The Mayor (who was suspected of being inclined to Protestantism), gave the following judgment:---It does not signify whether the image serves for the purpose of worship or not; the poor man's labour has been nevertheless; he therefore must be paid; and if the image will not serve ye for a god, only put a tail to it and a pair of horns, and it will make an excellent devil."

AFFECTING ANECDOTE. X

and affecting kind occurred some time A circumstance of a very interesting since in one of the Greek isles. A number of the islanders, terrified at the approach of a Turkish force, hurried on board a large boat, and pushed off from the land. The wife of one of them, a young woman of uncommon loveliness, seeing her husband departing, stood on the shore, stretching out her hands towards the boat, and imploring, in the most moving terms, to be taken on board. The Greek saw it without concern or pity, and, without aiding her escape, bade his companions hasten their flight. This unfortunate woman, left unprotected in the midst of her enemies, struggled through scenes of difficulty and danger, of insult and sufferings till her failing health and strength, with a heart broken by sorrow, brought her to her death-bed. She had never heard from her husband; and when wandering amongst the mountains, or lying hid in some wretched habitation, or compelled to urge her flight amidst cruel fatigues, meeting again, bore up her courage her affection for him, and the hope of through all. He came at last, when the enemy had retreated, and the Greeks had sought their homes again; and learning her situation, was touched with the deepest remorse. But all hope of life was then extinguished; her spirit had been tried to the utmost; love had changed to aversion, and she refused to see or forgive him.---There is at times, in the character of a Greek woman, as more than one occasion occurred of ob

serving, a strength and sternness that is truly remarkable. Her sister and relations were standing round her bed; and never in the days of her health and love did she look so touchingly beautiful as then her fine dark eyes were turned on them with a look, as if she mourned not to die, but still felt deeply her wrongs; the natural paleness of her cheek was crimsoned with a hectic hue, and the rich tresses of her black hair fell dishevelled by her side. Her friends, with tears, entreated her to speak to and forgive her husband; but she turned her face to the wall, and waved her hand for him to be gone. Soon the last pang came over her, and then affection conquered; she turned suddenly round, raised a look of forgiveness to him, placed her hand in his, and died.

FEMALE CURIOSITY.

A worthy squire, of sober life,
Had a conceited boasting wife;
Of him she daily made complaint;
Herself she thought a very saint.

She lov'd to load mankind with blame,
And on their errors build her fame.
Her favorite subject of dispute
Was Eve and the forbidden fruit.
"Had I been Eve," she often cried,
"Man had not fall'n, nor woman died;
I still had kept the orders given,
Nor for an apple lost my Heaven;
To gratify my curious mind,
1 ne'er had ruin'd all mankind;
Nor from a vain desire to know,
Entail'd on all my race such woe."

The 'Squire replied, "I fear 'tis true,
The same ill spirit lives in you;
Tempted alike, I dare believe,
You would have disobey'd like Eve."
The lady storm'd and still deny'd
Both curiosity and pride."

The 'Squire some future day at dinner,
Resolv'd to try his boastful sinner;
He griev'd such vanity possest her,
And thus in serious terms address'd her,
"Madam, the usual splendid feast
With which our wedding day is grac'd,
With you I must not share to day,
For business summons me away.
Of all the dainties I've prepar'd,
I beg not any may be spar'd;
Indulge in every costly dish:
Enjoy, 'tis what I really wish;
Only observe one prohibition,
Nor think it a severe condition;

On one small dish which cover'd stands,
You must not dare to lay your hands.
Go-disobey not for your life,

Or, henceforth you're no more my wife.

The treat was serv'd, the 'Squire was gone,
The murm'ring lady din'd alone:
She saw what e'er could grace a feast,
Or charm the eye, or please the taste;
But while she reach'd from this to that,
From ven'son haunch to turtle fat;
On one small dish she chanced to light:
By a deep cover hid from sight.
"Oh! here it is-yet for me!

1 must not taste, nay, dare not see;
Why place it there? or why forbid
That I so much as lift the lid?
Prohibited of this to eat,

I care not for the sumptuous treat;
I wonder if 'tis fowl or fish,

To know what's there I merely wish.
I'll look-O no, I lose for ever,

If I'm betray'd, my husband's favour.
I own I think it's vastly hard,
Nay, tyranny to be debarr'd.

John you may go-the wine's decanted,
I'll ring or call you when you're wanted."
Now left alone she waits no longer,
Temptation presses more and stronger,
"I'll peep the harm can ne'er be much,
For though I peep, I will not touch;
Why I'm forbid to lift this cover,
One glance will tell and then 'tis over.
My husband's absent, so is John,
My peeping never can be known."
Trembling she yielded to her wish,
And rais'd the cover from the dish:

She starts for lo! an open pie

From which six living sparrows fly. She calls, she screams, with wild surprise, "Haste, John, and catch these birds," she cries,

John hears not, but to crown her shame,

In at her call her husband came.
Sternly he frown'd and thus he spoke,
"Thus is your vow'd allegiance broke!
Self-ign'rance led you to believe,
You did not share the sin of Eve.
Like her's how blest was your condition!
How small my gentle prohibition!
Yet you, though fed with every dainty,
Sat pining in the midst of plenty;
This dish, thus singled from the rest,
Of your obedience was the test;
Your mind unbroke by self-denial,
Could not sustain that slender trial.
Humility from hence be taught,
Learn candor to another's fault;
Go know, like Eve, from this sad dinner,
You're both a vain and curious sinner.

THE CURSE.

Oh the curse of being poor !
To want and cringe at fortune's door-
To seek or borrow from a friend,
Who'd rather be excused than lend-
To ask a favour, which, when granted
Ungraciously had better wanted!
Which to the proud heart that receives
The galling boon, a death pang gives,
Oh! the curse of being in debt,
Without the means of paying it!

THE WHEEL-BARROW

With a big bottle nose and an acre of chin,
His whole physiognomy frightful as sin;
With a huge frizzled wig and triangular hat.
And a snuff-besmeared handkerchief tied over
that;

Doctor Ross, riding out on his fierce Rozinante, (In his hair very rich, but of flesh very scanty) Was a little alarm'd, through a zeal for his bones, Seeing Hodge cross the road with a barrow of stones.

"Hip! Friend!" roar'd the Doctor, with no little force,

"Prithee set down your barrow, 'twill frighten my horse!"'

Hodge as quickly replied as an Erskine or Garrow,

"You're a great deal more likely to frighten my barrow!"

The following terms were last week circulated by a Village Schoolmaster, in the neighbourhood of Aylesbury :

"To spell and read you may be taught
For twice two pence, which make a groat-
But if to write or count you'd learn,-
The master two pence more must earn!"

LONDON-Printed and Published, regularly every Saturday Morning, by Wm. KEENE, at the Office, New Church-court, Strand, where all communications for the Editor, and orders for the Portfolio, (post paid) are requested to be addressed: also by DUNCOMBE, 19, Little Queen-street, Holborn, SIMPKIN and MARSHALL, Paternoster-row, and all respectable Booksellers,