"All this, if true, can easily be traced," said the magistrate; "it certainly is extremely mysterious-And the lieutenant did not go to his residence, nor has he been seen since? Was he a man of sober habits and reputable character?"

"Most unexceptionable in both," replied the lawyer; "it is true that he had taken a glass or two of wine, but he was perfectly master of his actionsthough I cannot altogether account for his leaving the coach where he did." "Pray," said the magistrate, addressing the coachman, "had you sufficient light or opportunity to observe the person of the officer?"

"Vy not exactly, your vurship," answered Jehu; "it vas wery dark in Linkun's Inn, and them lamps arn't much good, only to blind people; but I saw the glittering of his buttons and his hanger, and could jist make out he vas a tall man; but he vhipped in in sich a hurry, that I hadn't much time to notice; nor did I think of anything of this here kind happening, for as long as I'm civil and gets my full fare, your vurship, I seldom troubles myself about other consarns."

"But in Ormond Street," urged the magistrate, "there you possibly had better light and more time—what took place there?"

"Vell, your vurship, I've tould you all as I knows," responded the witness. "The lamps in Ormond Street arn't never no better nor the rest in regard of lighting-they're pretty much like an ould watchman's eye. I seed as he was an officer of the navy, but arter he tipped the fare, and there was somut handsome over and above the reglar, I was too busy reckoning my money to take much notice-he went off with the bags, some on 'em he had got tied up in a handkercher; but what he had in em' I never guv a moment's thought to."

"Was the officer sober?" inquired the magistrate.

"Vell, your vurship, it arn't exactly clear vot sobriety is," answered the coachman; "he might or he might not, for I took no perticklar notice, only he seemed to valk avay steady enough. He guv me five shillings; I said "Thanky, yer honor,' and he says Good night,' and that vos all.” "Should you know the gentleman again?" asked the lawyer, bending his keen gaze upon the man.

“Vy, yes, I think I should, if I vos to see him as I did last night,” responded the coachman; "but daylight alters people's looks, and I shouldn't like to svear."

After other questions of no very material consequence, the magistrate decided that the affair should be put into the hands of an experienced officer, who should thoroughly investigate the whole, and he would be ready to attend to any information as soon as it was obtained; but if no further light was thrown upon the transaction, and the lieutenant still remained absent, then he must request Mr. Brady to be in attendance at eleven o'clock the following morning, accompanied by his clerk, the bank agent, and all the evidence he could procure. In the mean time he recommended that intelligence should be given at the other offices, and diligent inquiry made at the hospitals; though in the first instance it would be best to commence the investigation in the neighbourhood of Ormond Street. Mr. Brady promised strict attention, and the parties withdrew.

STROLLING about from bower to hall,
Love paid Lavinia a morning call.

An hour soon went-she chatted and sang-
He staid-till at last the dinner-bell rang.
He staid, still charm'd; and rather alarm'd,
Lavinia felt she must ask him to stay.

"To tell you the truth," cried the radiant youth,
"I'm here for life, I shall ne'er go away."

Love's fire shot through her in one wild flush,
Till her heart itself might be seen to blush;
Love saw, and finding it faithful and kind,
Exclaim'd, "O Beauty, how long I've been blind!"
More grateful grew he, more fervent she,
More watchful, sensitive, warm, and fond;

So much like light was he to her sight,

She could not trust him a step beyond.

Still more she cherish'd him year by year,
Till at last each joy came tinged with fear;

She fear'd, if he stroll'd where wild flowers meet,
Lest thorns might pierce his delicate feet;

Or a reptile's sting beneath his wing

She fear'd, if he lay in the greenwood asleep;

Or walk'd he awake by the moonlit lake

In dread of an ague, how would she weep!

She chatted and sang to Love no more,
Lest music and chat should prove "a bore;"
But she hung on his steps wherever he went,
And shut from the chamber the rose's scent.
She slept not a wink, for fear he should think

She dream'd not of Love-so her eyes grew dim;
She took no care of her beautiful hair,

For she could not spare one moment from him.

Love's bright fireside grew dark with doubt,
Yet home was a desert if Love went out;

In vain were his vows, caresses, and sighs;

*

"O Love," cried the lady, "I've given you eyes!

And ah! should some face of a livelier grace

Than mine ever meet them! Ah! should you stray!"
Love, wearied at last, was in slumber lock'd fast ;-
"Those wings!" said the watcher, "he might fly away?'

One awful moment! Oh! could she sever
Those wings from Love, he is hers for ever!
With trembling hand she gathers the wings-
She clips-they are off! and up Love springs.
"Adieu!" he cried, as he leapt from her side,

"Of folly's cup you have drunk the dregs ;
My home was here; it is now with the deer;

Thank Venus, though wingless, Love has legs!! L. B.

BERNARD CAVANAGH,

THE IRISH CAMELEON.

Bernard Cavanagh is the name of a person who is now raising considerable sums of money in Dublin by professing to work miracles-the greatest of them all consisting in his ability to live without any food whatever-which he is now said to have done for several months. Crowds flock to him to be cured of their lameness, deafness, &c.-Irish Papers.

MARVELLOUS Erin! when St. Patrick's feat

Thy hills, vales, plains, and bogs from reptiles freed,
He little dream'd what monsters would succeed;

Sinners who drink not, saints who never eat!
And is there one, in whom the piece of meat
Which Paris raves about, no care can breed!
One who can never know a time of need,
Though corn be trampled by the tempest's feet!

Poor fellow! what enjoyment he foregoes!

Nothing but air, a scrap of summer cloud,
Fog with the chill off, is to him allow'd;
A fine thick mist, or rainbow when it shows;
But ah! for him no kitchen's steam up-flows;
No knives, forks, spoons, or plates, a pilèd crowd,
No dishes, glasses, salts, make music loud!
Sad sinecurists all-mouth, ears, and nose!

THE ASS ON THE LADDER.

"For lowliness is young Ambition's ladder."-Julius Cæsar.

At the end of the second volume of a Hebrew MS of the Bible, written on beautiful vellum, is the following passage, in fine large Hebrew characters :-" I, Meyer, the son of Rabbi Jacob, the scribe, have finished this book for Rabbi Abraham, the son of Rabbi Nathan, the 5052nd year (A.D. 1292); and he has bequeathed it to his children and his children's children for ever. Amen. Amen. Amen. Selah. Be strong and strengthened. May this book not be After which the damaged, neither this day nor for ever, until the Ass ascends the LADDER." accompanying rude figure is drawn.-Pettigrew's Bibliotheca Sussexiana, part I. vol. i.

Ir would appear from the curious sen-
tence copied above, that no longer ago than
five centuries and a half, the feat which
is pictured to the spectator in a fac-simile
of the original drawing was regarded as
an event of extremely improbable occur-
rence. The inference indeed may be, that
it was deemed an impossibility.
prayer of the inscription is, "May this
book be undamaged for ever." - May
it be preserved "until the ass ascends the
ladder!"

The

"Till Birnam wood shall come to Dun-
sinane," is the unlikely occurrence which
the weird sisters specify as the omen of
Macbeth's fall; and "That will never be!"
is the cry of the confident thane. In
modern days we wish a man "good luck
till he's tired of it;" or "prosperity till
the sky falls." The despairing and love-
lorn damsel in the ditty sings-

"When fishes fly, and swallows dive,
Young men they will prove true."

And one of the same ballad-family sets out with the affecting declaration, that

"When gooseberries grow on the stem of a daisy,"

the singer's passion will be no more. These, and a thousand examples of the "Not till then," are but versions of the Hebrew assumption of impossibility, expressed in the grotesque fancy of "the ass on the ladder." But it is clear that Meyer the son of Rabbi Jacob was not in Moorfields last year; it is certain that Abraham, the son of Rabbi Nathan, little dreamed of what would be doing at Pimlico in the nineteenth century; for whether at Mayfair or at Bethnal Green, at Wapping or at Islington, one or both must have seen the impossibility realised, in the elevation of the donkey, before the upturned wondering eyes of a crowd of lingering mortals in the public thoroughfares.

Lest there should be some who never saw the modern street-mountebank, going forth like Leporello with his ladder, and like Sancho with his donkey, we must describe his performance. His greatest feat consisted in balancing upon his chin a ladder with an ass on it. All other tricks performed, and all eyes and mouths opened, curiosity on tiptoe and incredulity on the stretch, forth came the wooden machine, and with legs twisted through the staves, up went the animal. Who," exclaims the minstrel, "Ah who can tell how hard it is to climb!" But what poet ever found a steep so difficult as that gradus ad Parnassum to the seemingly dislocated donkey? To the topmast round, you would see him clinging like Shakspeare's giddy sea-boy on the mast; and surveying the mountebank who had taught him to be such an astonishing ass, with a look that seemed to say, "You're another!" Then would his master send round the hat upon its last and greatest voyage of discovery; then would the halfpence therein be rattled harmlessly in the vacant faces of boys with vacant pockets, and then would the irresistible appeal be heard, "Come, good gen❜lemen, be liberal, be liberal-tuppence more, and up goes the donkey." Then bending up each corporal agent for the terrible feat, up indeed would go the ladder, donkey and all; high up in air, until its lowest stave rested. fairly and firmly on the protruded chin of the mountebank, where it stood poised, fixed, moveless the astonishing type, or rather the exact model, of the balance of power in Europe.

The amazement now should be transferred from the balanced to the balancer; for what is the difficulty of such a gradus ad Parnassum to the ass, compared with the sore trial of the man below, who has made the bridge of his nose a pons asinorum! But in rivalship with the donkey, the human being shrinks into insignificance; the grotesque patience of the brute beats the strength and dexterity of the man hollow; the gazers are all wrapped in ecstasy to see how the ass hangs on, not how the cunning mountebank balances him. The sympathies of the crowd, men and boys, are triumphantly borne off by the four-legged performer, and every one of them goes away more convinced of the uncommon cleverness of the ass, and consequently on better terms with himself.

But the obstinacy of the long-eared animal is proverbial; and in nothing is it more strikingly exhibited than in the fact that he will eat if he can. So was it before the days of Æsop's ass, that cropped a thistle and was