Mendoza, Necker, Lord Howe, Milton, a gilt | duced me seven of as pretty pigs as ever you lion, Count Cagliostro, Whitfield, and a green parrot, all cheek-by-jowl together. The man -oh, you must remember it, Jack-walked under the window, crying, 'Image, image, who'll buy my image? when you--O, you must recollect—threw a basin of water upon his board. Away floated Whitfield and the green parrot: Mendoza gave Milton a knockdown blow: the gilt lion fell tooth and nail upon Count Cagliostro: and Necker could not find ways and means to keep his place Lord Howe was the only officer who kept the deck." "Yes, yes, now I do remember it," exclaimed Colonel Nightingale, laughing heartily. It would have been better if he had remained serious. The opening of his fauces set Mr. Withers' tongue afloat upon a very ticklish topic. "Why, Jack," exclaimed the relentless clergyman, "you have got a new tooth." The colonel reddened; but the ecclesiastic proceeded. "Well, that's droll enough; you certainly had lost a tooth: I think it was your left eye-tooth."- "Do you retain your wise ones?" inquired the caustic colonel. "Yes, both of them," replied the matter-of-fact divulger of secrets. "You must remember the loss of yours; it was on the left side: Frank Anderson knocked it out with a cricket-ball." There are certain secrets which men keep even from their wives. For "twice ten tedious years" the colonel had been hugging himself in the certainty that the affair in question was confined to Chevalier Ruspini and himself. “Will you | take a glass of champaign, sir?" said the master of the mansion. The movement was most dexterous. The Rev. Mr. Withers had made a "god of his belly" too long to allow the thoughts of any teeth, save his own, to cross his Bacchanalian devotions. saw in your life. Then I've another thing to "When When the summons of "Coffee is ready" had induced the two school friends to rejoin Mrs. Nightingale in the drawing-room, all former incidents had been pretty well exhausted, and they now proceeded to discuss "things as they are." But in this species of duet they by no means chimed harmoni- 'Catalani's spiritual concerts are not particuously together. Withers thought Scoresby and larly well attended, and I am not sorry for it: its concerns were the concerns of all mankind; Bochsa has started his oratorios with all the and Nightingale could not imagine that any talent in town, and therefore ought to be enbody upon earth had anything to think of couraged. By-the-by, Madame Vestris is a save Rossini and his prima donna of a wife, woman of most versatile talent. Her mock Lindley's violoncello, Garcia in Agorante, and Don Giovanni is admirable: not that I approve Catalani in Il Fanatico per la Musica. "I of any mockery of the Italian Opera: profanehave news to tell you," said the country parson ness cannot be too steadily discouraged. But to the frequenter of the Italian opera, "which it is not a little surprising, that a woman who I am sure you will be glad to hear." -"In- can act that sprightly comic extravaganza deed, what is it?""My black sow has pro- | should be able to depict the jealous and indig20 VOL. I. JAMES SMITH. THE OCEAN GRAVE. nant Princess Zomira. "We have a club of | ship: did you ever see such a vulgar dog-such clergymen who meet once a month at Kettering an idiot too-so blind to his own interest: if to shake hands and exchange sermons: last he had but held his tongue two minutes, I Friday month I gave one of mine to Doctor could have given him my opinion of Rossini's Pringle, whose grandfather was chaplain to the Zelmira.' I am one Opera night out of pocket English factory at Lisbon, and received one of by him, and that is enough to make me detest his in exchange. I intended to look it over on him to my dying day. Such illiberality tooSunday morning before church, but "- "How did you hear him say,- What can you expect extremely well Madame Vestris, Camporese, from a Presbyterian!'-How I hate a man who and Garcia, execute that trio in the first act, vilifies a whole tribe for the faults of an indiSara l'alma delusa schernita:' when Madame | vidual! I have long thought it, and I now Vestris comes in with her 'O l'indegno qui | know it-All men who live in the country are dove perir,' I declare she stands her ground | fools." most womanfully: the fact is, that the sweetness of Italian music "___ ` ` But Hannah and I were busy hunting the black sow out of the cucumber beds: we were so busy, crying, 'Hey tg! tig!' that we did not hear the bell toll: so up I walked into the pulpit without ever once looking at the sermon "-"Those orange-tawny stuff curtains are a disgrace to the Opera house"-"well I began reading it, and to my great surprise I found that it had been preached by Doctor Pringle's grandfather immediately after the great earthquake at Lisbon. I therefore found myself under the disagreeable necessity of thus addressing my congregation at Kettering: When I look around me, and behold the effects of the late horrid devastation of nature: trees torn up by the roots; houses toppling to their foundation; men and cattle ingulfed in the earth, and the whole horizon rocking like the ocean in its most tempestuous moments.' You cannot imagine the sensation I excited: the women fanned themselves and fainted; and the men muttered to each other, 'Dear me! something unpleasant must have occurred since we entered the church!'-I never preached with so much effect either before or since." The regular amble of the Rev. George Withers' hobby had now contrived to distance the curvature and prance of Colonel Nightingale's. The colonel pulled up, and lifting a small gold watch from his right waistcoat pocket, muttered to himself"Ah, the wretch! it is half-past ten, and Catalani must have sung her second Cavatina. --Where do you lodge, Sir? said the host, coldly to his guest-"At the New Hummums.' Indeed! are you aware that they close their doors at a quarter past eleven?"You don't say so?"-"Yes, I do: but you may find very pretty accommodation at the Finish: the street strollers and market-gardeners speak of it in high terms.' This hit told: the Reverend George Withers looked at his watch, and made a rapid retreat. "Well!" cried the colonel the moment the door was closed, "so much for school friend [Mrs. John Hunter (Anne Home), born in Hull, 1742; died in London, 7th January, 1821. She was the wife of the celebrated anatomist, and the authoress of several songs which have been popular. Of these, My Mother Bids me Bind my Hair, is perhaps the best known. A collection of her poenis appeared in 1892.] Friends! when I die, prepare iny welcome grave, O let that element whose voice had power The gen'rous ocean, whose proud waters bear Binds mau to man, and mingles clime with clime: Exiled on earth, a fettered prisoner here, THE FALL OF THE LEAF. There is no vice that causes more calamities in human life, than the intemperate passion for gaming. How many noble and ingenuous persons it hath reduced from wealth unto poverty; nay, from honesty to dishonour, and by still descending steps into the gulf of perdition. And yet how prevalent it is in all capital cities, where many of the chiefest merchants, and courtiers especially, are mere pitiful slaves of fortune, toiling like so many abject turnspits in her ignoble wheel. Such a man is worse off than a poor borrower, for all he has is at the momentary call of imperative chance; or rather he is more wretched than a very beggar, being mocked with an appearance of wealth, but as deceitful as if it turned, like the moneys in the old Arabian story, into decaying leaves. In our parent city of Rome, to aggravate her modern disgraces, this pestilent vice has lately fixed her abode, and has inflicted many deep wounds on the fame and fortunes of her proudest families. A number of noble youths have been sucked into the ruinous vortex, some of them being degraded at last into humble retainers upon rich men, but the most part perishing by an unnatural catastrophe; and if the same fate did not befall the young Marquis de Malaspini, it was only by favour of a circumstance which is not likely to happen a second time for any gamester. This gentleman came into a handsome revenue at the death of his parents, whereupon, to dissipate his regrets, he travelled abroad, and his graceful manners procured him a distinguished reception at several courts. After two years spent in this manner, he returned to Rome, where he had a magnificent palace on the banks of the Tiber, and which he further enriched with some valuable paintings and sculptures from abroad. His taste in these works was much admired; and his friends remarked with still greater satisfaction, that he was untainted by the courtly vices which he must have witnessed in his travels. It only remained to complete their wishes, that he should form a matrimonial alliance that should be worthy of himself, and he seemed likely to fulfil this hope in attaching himself to the beautiful Countess of Maraviglia. She was herself the heiress of an ancient and honourable house; so that the match was regarded with satisfaction by the relations on both sides, and especially as the young pair were most tenderly in love with each other. For certain reasons, however, the nuptials were deferred for a time, thus affording leisure for the crafty machinations of the devil, who delights, above all things, to cross a virtuous and happy marriage. Accordingly, he did not fail to make use of this judicious opportunity, but chose for his instrument the lady's own brother, a very profligate and a gamester, who soon fastened, like an evil genius, on the unlucky Malaspini. It was a dismal shock to the lady when she learned the nature of this connection, which Malaspini himself discovered to her, by incautiously dropping a die from his pocket inher presence. She immediately endeavoured, with all her influence, to reclaim him from the dreadful passion for play, which had now crept over him like a moral cancer, and already disputed the sovereignty of love; neither was it without some dreadful struggles of remorse on his own part, and some useless victories, that he at last gave himself up to such desperate habits, but the power of his Mephistophiles prevailed, and the visits of Malaspini to the lady of his affections became still less frequent; he repairing instead to those nightly resorts where the greater portion of his estates was already forfeited. At length, when the lady had not seen him for some days, and in the very last week before that which had been appointed for her marriage, she received a desperate letter from Malaspini, declaring that he was a ruined man, in fortune and hope; and that, at the cost of his life even, he must renounce her hand for ever. He added, that if his pride would let him even propose himself, a beggar as he was, for her acceptane, he should yet despair too much of her pardon to make such an offer; whereas, if he could have read in the heart of the unhappy lady, he would have seen that she still preferred the beggar Malaspini to the richest nobleman in the Popedom. With abundance of tears and sighs perusing his letter, her first impulse was to assure him of that loving truth; and to offer herself with her estates to him, in compensation of the spites of fortune: but the wretched Malaspini had withdrawn himself no one knew whither, and she was constrained to content herself with grieving over his misfortunes, and purchasing such parts of his property as were exposed to sale by his plunderers. And now it became apparent what a villanous part his betrayer had taken; for, having thus stripped the unfortunate gentleman, he now aimed to rob him of his life also, that his treacheries might remain undiscovered. To this end he feigned a most 303 vehement indignation at Malaspini's neglect and bad faith, as he termed it, towards his sister; protesting that it was an insult to be only washed out with his blood, and with these expressions he sought to kill him at any advantage. And no doubt he would have become a murderer, as well as a dishonest gamester, if Malaspini's shame and anguish had not drawn him out of the way; for he had hired a mean lodging in the suburbs, from which he never issued but at dusk, and then only to wander in the most unfrequented places. what upon fortune; and very shortly the leaf treasure. It was now in the wane of autumn, when some of the days are fine, and gorgeously deco-surface. rated at morn and eve by the rich sun's embroidcries; but others are dewy and dull, with cold nipping winds, inspiring comfortless fancies and thoughts of melancholy in every bosom. In such a dreary hour Malaspini happened to walk abroad, and avoiding his own squandered estates, which it was not easy to do by reason of their extent, he wandered into a by-place in the neighbourhood. The place was very lonely and desolate, and without any near habitation; its main feature especially being a large tree, now stripped bare of its vernal honours, excepting one dry yellow leaf, which was shaking on a topmost bough to the cold evening wind, and threatening at every moment to fall to the damp, dewy carth. Before this dreary object Malaspini stopped sometime in contemplation, commenting to himself on the desolate tree, and drawing many apt comparisons between its nakedness and his own beggarly condition. 66 'Alas! poor bankrupt," says he, "thou hast been plucked too, like me; but yet not so basely. Thou hast but showered thy green leaves on the grateful earth, which in another season will repay thee with sap and sustenance; but those whom I have fattened will not so much as lend again to my living. Thou wilt thus regain all thy green summer wealth, which I shall never do; and besides, thou art still better off than I am, with that one golden leaf to cheer thee, whereas I have been stripped even of my last ducat!" With these and many more similar fancies he continued to aggrieve himself, till at last, being more sad than usual, his thoughts tended unto death, and he resolved, still watching that yellow leaf, to take its flight as the signal for his own departure. "Chance," said he, "hath been my temporal ruin, and so let it now determine for me, in my last cast between life and death, which is now all that its malice hath left me. Thus in his extremity he still risked some There were coins of various nations, but all golden, in this petty mine; and in such quantity as made Malaspini doubt, for a moment, if it were not the mere mintage of his fancy. Assuring himself, however, that it was no dream, he gave many thanks to God for this timely providence; notwithstanding, he hesitated for a moment to deliberate whether it was honest to avail himself of the money; but believing, as was most probable, that it was the plunder of some banditti, he was reconciled to the appropriation of it to his own necessities. Loading himself, therefore, with as much ed with it to his humble quarters; and by gold as he could conveniently carry, he hastenmaking two or three more trips in the course It was sufficient, on being of the night he made himself master of the whole treasure. rest of his life; but not being able to enjoy it reckoned, to maintain him in comfort for the in the scene of his humiliations, he resolved to reside abroad; and embarking in an English vessel at Naples, he was carried over safely to London. It is held a deep disgrace amongst our with either trade or commerce; and yet, as we Italian nobility for a gentleman to meddle behold, they will condescend to retail their own produce, and wine especially,-yea, marry, and with an empty barrel, like any vintner's sign, hung out at their stately palaces. Malasilliberal prejudices; or else he was taught to pini perhaps disdained from the first these renounce them by the example of the London merchants, whom he saw in that great mart of the world, engrossing the universal seas, and enjoying the power and importance of princes, merely from the fruits of their traffic. At any rate, he embarked what money he possessed in various mercantile adventures, which ended so profitably, that in three years he had regained almost as large a fortune as he had formerly inherited. He then speedily returned to his native country, and redeeming his paternal estates, he was soon in a worthy condition to present himself to his beloved countess, who was still single, and cherished him with all a woman's devotedness in her constant affection. They were, therefore, before long united, to the contentment of all Rome; her wicked relation having been slain some time before, in a brawl with his associates. As for the fortunate windfall which had so befriended him, Malaspini founded with it a noble hospital for orphans; and for this reason, that it belonged formerly to some fatherless children, from whom it had been withheld by their unnatural guardian. This wicked man it was who had buried the money in the sand: but when he found that his treasure was stolen, he went and hanged himself on the very tree that had caused its discovery. VERSES. [Andrew Marvell, born at Kingston-upon-Hull, 15th He was a November, 1620; died 16th August, 1678. steady opponent of the court party in parliament. He politician and a poet, the friend of Milton, and the was elected one of the members for Hull in 1660, and continued to represent that city in parliament till his death. Charles II. is reported to have attempted to bribe him and failed, although Marvell's circumstances were comparatively poor. No temptation could move him from the principles he held, and his prose works, satirical and political, exercised much influence on the government of the day. His miscellaneous poems, with portrait and memoir, were published in 1681, and there have been various editions issued since.] Why should man's high aspiring mind To strew his quiet hall. Power may make many earthly gods, Kicks o'er the unequal scales: The flatter'd great may clamours raise An arrow, hurtel'd ere so high From e'en a giant's sinewy strength, In time's untraced eternity, Goes but a pigmy length-Nay, whirring from the tortured string, With all its pomp of hurried flight, "Tis, by the skylark's little wing, Outmeasured, in its height. Just so, man's boasted strength and power Tyrants in vain their powers secure, And awe slaves' murmurs with a frown; But unawed death at last is sure To sap the Babels down-- A stone thrown upward to the sky, So men-gods, of earth's vanity, |