THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE.* fragments for tfjc © urioiw. IMPORTANT TO BREEDERS OF STOCK.— A very valuable discovery has lately been made of a new article ot food for the rearing of young cattle. It will, if it prove success- ful, ( and we have no doubt from experiments already made, that it will prove'eminently so,) be of immense im- portance to dairy farmers, and others in the neighbour- hood of towns and villages, where milk and other produce of the cow are in demand for the market. The recipe, which has been tried and found to answer the purpose ad- mirably, is as follows, viz. :— A pound of pearl sago dis- solved in boiling water in the proportion of six quarts ot new milk, or a proportionally larger quantity of skimmed milk to the mixture. The cost of the pearl sago is now so low, that the eight quarts of mixture is half the price of the same quantity of milk, and is considered by practical men more nutritious than the milk. AQUATIC POSTMAN.— The mode in which letters are carried in some countries is curious. The postman who is the medium of communication between the coasts of the Pacific Ocean and the provinces which are situated on the east of the Andes, swims for two days down the river Chamaya, and through a part of the Amazon, carrying his hag of letters wrapped about his head, like a turban.— There is scarcely au instance of the letters ever having been lost, or even wetted. Lord Derby once applied in the green room to Mr. Sheridan, wilh much dignity, for the arrears of Lady . Derby's salary, and vowed he would not stir from the room till itwaspaid. " My dear lord," said Mr. Sheridan, " this is too bad ; you have taken from us the brightust jewel in the world, and you now quarrel with us for the little dust she has left behind her." LINES ADDRESSED TO THK GALLANT OFFICERS AND MEN ENGAGED IN THE GLORIOUS CAPTURE OF ST. JEAN D'ACRK. November 2nd, 1840. Ye slandered sons of Britain's happy land, Who hive been styled an " inefficient band;" Repel the charge, and say to all the world ;— " O'er ' St. Jean D'Acre,' Albion's flag's unfurl'd ! Does that attest that we have lost one grain Of British valour ? That place, which in vain The flower of France attack'd, is now our own, An added leaf to Britain's laurel'd throne ! Who feeble shafts of slander at us hurl'd, Are now up- held to scorn bv all the world. We dare them all to say we ve lost our claim, To stand the highest on the rock of fame ! We're cowards!— who gave birth that damning lie ? Say, was it malice ? or base calumny ? g Ye fools who spoke it knew ye not that we, Have ever held the mast'ry of the sea ? Could such be kept if fear dwelt in our heart, Or, if our blood of cowardice took part ? No, Britain ! never shall thy favour'd isle ;{ Contain a single band of cowards vile I We may be peaceful when we are at home. But fierce as lions are we when we roam 1" 0, noble Britons ! countrymen of miue ; Long in the realms of glory shall ye shine ; A poet's curse light on them who would dare, Your spotless names by calumny to sear To ages may your names be handed down, And vict'ry all your gallant actions crown. A. A. L. THE IRISH BAH.— Lord Avonmore, was subject to personal fits of absence, and was frequently insensible to the conversation that was going on. He was once wrapped in one of his wonted reveries, and, not hear- ing one syllable of what was passing, ( it was at a large professional dinner, given by Mr. Burke), Curran, who was sitting next to his loidship, having been called on for a toast, gave " All our Absent Friends," patting, at the same time, Lord Avonmore on the shoulder, and telling him that they had just drank his health. Quite unconscious of anything that had been said for the last hour, and taking the inlimation as a serious one, Avonmore rose,- and apologizing for his inattention, re turned thanks to the company for the honour Ihey had done him by drinking his health. A HAPPY NEW YEAR. TO THE SUBSCRIBERS OF " THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES. ^ " A Happy New Year" to subscribers and friends, If the old has been bad, may the new make amends ! " A Happy New Year" to the friends we love best, As J. Dillon, M'Doual), C. White, and T. Prest. Hood Stodhart, H. Maddison, J. Horton, " Old Quiz," J. Jenkins, M. Fredyen, A. A, L,, and friend " Friz " With others, too nnmerous to name, '• quite a host," Whose talented aid is our glory and boast. To each individual, with greeting sincere. We heartily wish them " A Happy New Year." And " A Happy New Year" to our own proper selves, Our compositors, printers, and small " printers elves." ( We say " pi inters elves," because names diabolical To " ears that's polite" ever sounds harsh and comical.) " A Happy New Year" to all friends!— aye, and foes I A Happy New Year" to " the world as it goes I" " A Happy New year" to our dear " sea- girt shore," Aud may all of us see happy years many more ! ANNA, MINSTREL OP THF. HEATH. THE GARDEN OF GF. THSEMANE,— This garden is now surrounded by a coarse low wall, of a few feet in height, and about a third pari of an acre in extent. When Mr. Catherwood was there, in 1834, taking the drawings for his beautiful panorama of Jerusalem, it was planted with olive, almond, and fig trees. Right of the olive trees are so large that they are said fo have been in existence ever since the time of . Tesus Christ, although we are informed by Josephus, Ihat Titus cut down all tbe trees within 100 furlongs of the city ; yet il is not improbable that these frees, which are nnqties- tiouably of veiy great antiquity, may have arisen from the rools of the ancient trees, because the olive is very long lived, and possesses the peculiar properly of shooting up again, however frequently it may he cut down. The trees now standing in Ihe garden of Geth- semane, are of the species known to botanists as the Olea Europea; they are wild olives, and appear pol- larded from extreme old age, and their stems are very rough and gnarled. They are highly venerated by the members of the Roman communion here, who consider any attempt lo cut and injure them as an act of pro- fanation. Should any of them, indeed, be kuown to pluck any of Ihe leaves, lie would incur a sentence of excommunication.— Finden's Illustrations to Ihe Bible. STjeatm. Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice." SHAKSPF. RE Fun and pantomime are now at their heighl, and are delighting the holiday folks. The entertainments pro- vided for the play- goers, bring back fo our mind many bright and happy associations; days of happy, jocund, thoughtless childhood, which may be looked back upon with pleasure, but cannot be recalled. The very soul of exuberant fun, and hearty enjoyment, is in a panto- mime, and insensible aRd stoical must be the person who could sit with a solemn visaje, and view the per- petual bustle and mirth upon ( lie stage, hear the hearly roars of laughter which follow the tricks and grimaces of the clown, and kicks and buB'etings of that unfortunate old gentleman, the pantaloon,— and witness the delighted countenances of ihe juveniles around. We would not miss our Christmas treat of pantomime, to be made prime- minister. The panto- mimes of the present season have been unusually suc- cessful, and have met with that hearty welcome and support from Ihe public, which Ihe different managers are so justly entitled to. There are many circum- siances connected wilh the present pantomimes, which affords us infinite pleasure, none more so than the re- appearance of many of our old favourites; for instance, we have Soutlihy, after a retirement of five years, for clown, at ( he Surrey ; at Ihe Pavilion, Mr. T. Hill ; at the Garrick, old Tom Blanchard for pantaloon ; at Ihe Victoria, llowelt, for harlequin ; and last, though not least, poor old Tom Ellar, at llie Adelphi, once more wields his magic wand. The earliness at iiliich our periodical is compelled to go to press, precluded Ihe possibility of our giving a minute detail of the different pantomimes, in our last week's number, but we hasten to do so, as far as our limits will allow us in the present. CBVENT GARDEN.— The Castle of Otranto; or, the Giant Helmet, is a Pautomiine which we cannot say is exactly to our taste. In fact, we think, the more ap- propriate title would have been a Spectacle, as which, it is a most magnificent and interesting affair. The scenery is really beautiful, embodying subjects founded on recent great national events, the " Eastern Quest- ion," the War in Syria, the recent capture of St. Jean d'Acre, and the removal of tlie remains of the Empe- ror Napoleon to France. The introduction is very long, and as it closely adheres to the original story, we have no necessity to detail Ihe plot. The gigantic helmet, excited wonder and delight in the minds of the juveniles, and when the vizor was raised, and revealed the immense countenance of the knight, with his eyes rolling about in all directions, the applause and laugh- ter was truly terrific. The tricks and changes in the pantomime, are few and far between, and many of them not of the mpst originAl description. The best are, Trafalgar- square and the Nelson monument. Clown, Pantaloon, Harlequin, and Columbine, ara sup- ported by Messrs. T. Ridgway, Morelll, C. J. Smith, and Miss Fairbrother, in a most excellent manner. Master Maskall, also performs Harlequin's Tiger, with surprising agility. ADELPHI.— Harlequin; or, the F. nchanted Fish, is the name of the Pantomime at this theatre, and an excel- lent one it is, abounding with interest, continual bustle, incessant motion, trick upon trick, and change succeed- ing change with the greatest rapidity. The plot may be told in a very few words:— The Sultan's son tries to elope with the ward of an old magician, who, not being able to ward off their attachment, turns the wards of a lock upon them, anil locks them in a castle. Four servants plotting their escape are magicianized into fishes, but a genius of a lake, who had been enclosed in a copper case at the bottom of the sea, is fished up, and is the means of pointing out where the four fishes are kept. Not to pursue the plot any further, let us say briefly that the Sultan's son, Prince Floridore, meets wilh the beautiful ward, Amanda ; one becomes Harlequin, the other Columbine, and they go through all the scenes and adventures as usual, and for file same object, of two fugitives to Gretna- green ; that is to say, to get married. So far of the plot, of the tricks and changes, and the scenery, we niusl speak in the most unqualified terms. The hits are capital, especially the Gallic cock, who gets into John Bull's farm- yard. Lord Cardigan, is satirised severely. A case of wine is brought in for the Eleventh Hussars, and quick, at the touch of Harlequin's wand, there rises a large black bottle, and over that, a finger- post, with three direc- tions. One is, " To the Mill at Canterbury," the other, To the Mill at Wimbledon," and the other, " To Coventry and Cardigan." The case of wine for the regiment, is turned into a case Jack for the captain, and the bottle is a mess for the whole regiment. A book- case of annuals opens, and instead of the annuals for 1841, and the four consecutive years, five or six young children issue forth, alluding to the present and prospective family of her majesty. Auother happy hit, was the gin- shop; in the window is written up, " Choice Spirits ;" Harlequin touches it wilh his wand, and it is changed to Ihe words, " Old Tom," with Ellar standing underneath. The hint is taken by the audience, and the veteran pantomimisl, is loudly applauded. A policeman is shot dead ; a stretcher is fetched, on which he is placed; Ihe Clown lays hold of one end, and the Pantaloon the other. They cannot agree as to where they shall take the body ; a quarrel ensues, they pull in opposite directions, and Ihe policeman is stretched fourteen or fifteen feet. This scene excites roars of laughter. But it would occupy more space than we can afford, ( o enumerate all the excellent tricks and changes, which this successful pantomime contains ; suffice it to say, Ihat everything went off ad- mirably, and that there cannot be a doubt, but that it will lave a long and triumphant run. The panto- mimists are capital, and poor old Tom Ellar seems to have got young again for the season. SADLER'S WEI LS.— The Pantomime at this theatre is written by Mr. Younge, and brought out under tbe able direction of Homier. It is called Harlequin Poor Ri- chard; or, Old Father Time awl the Almanack Maker, and the following is the plot: — It commences with the abode of Tme, and a diora- mic illustration of the flight of hours. Then we have the Goddess Pleasure, with a numerous train of Follies, who prevail on Father Time to send for his brother Christmas, who is dispatched to earth to assist a perso- nage by the name of Poor Richard. This Poor Richard, with the assistance of Christmas and Time's hour- glass, gains admittance to a Baroness's daughter, who is courted by an old gouty Knight, whom, of course, as may naturally be supposed from the usual course of pantomimic stories, he casts from the lady's affections. The course of true love never did run smooth, and Richard becomes a rejected suitor himself, and in re- venge touches the lady and her attendants with the hour- glass which Christmas has given him. This is an excellent, scene; the masks ot tbe performers are changed, and there is a sham looking- glass of gauze, on both sides of which the figures copy one another. Their motions were almost always in unison, and the scene was well designed. The characters have the appear- ance, from this magic touch, of being fifty vears older than they are. To make a long story short, Richard at last obtains the hand ofthe fair one, and the company change, to Harlequin, J. W. Collier, Clown, Jeft'erini, Columbine, Mrs. Collier, and Harlequin's Tiger, Stilt. As regards tricks, changes, satirical hints, scenery, aud the pantomimists, it is all that could be wished, and is quite successful. CITY.— Harlequin Peter tVilkins,- or, the Flying Island, which is the name of the Pantomime here, is not so good as most of the others; but, it is brought forward with much grandeur, and will probably remain a favorite for a week or two. Tbe plot it. is unneces- sary to state, as the story must be known to most of our readers. PAVILION.— The Pantomime here, Harlequin Blue Beard, is a very good one, and the manager has be- stowed much pains and expense in getting it up. It will, we predict, have a long life and a merry one. VICTORIA.— Moncrielf lias written one of the best Pantomimes of the season, for this theatre. It is en- titled Harlequin Jack of Newbrery, awl the Old TVoman of Berkley, closely adhering to the plot of those two popu lar legends. The scenery painted by Lennox, Meadows, and M'Farren, is worthy of houses of higher preten- sions. There are some capital local hits, all of which told exceedingly well. The scene of the ruins of El- freda's Nunnery, is about one of the best paintings in the piece, and elicits the marked applause which it justly deserves. Messrs. Howell, and Ashbury are too well known to need comment. Young Blanchard, son of T. Blanehard, his first appearance in London as Clown, displays considerable comic humour, and much agility. Madame Goderham is the Columbine, and dances as sprightly as a mountain sylph. SURREY — The Pantomime at this theatre is also from the pen of Mr. MoncrietF. It is called Harlequin and my Lady Lee.- or, G_ oose>/ Gander and the Spell- bound Go's- nr. pni ri tr ic ft a* t> nvwl Rnnni, ni:.. n, ri. ll _ a r _ OLD A LEGEND OF SAINT PAUL'S. 11Y W. 11. A1NSIORTII. is a grand Banqueting Hall at Lee ivilh a meeting ofthe Fairies and the lings. The opening i Castle, at midnight, w False Lady Lee ( Miss Chartley,)" together with Mula- che ( Golflsimth,) the treacherous steward. The second scene is Goody Wingpen's goose pasture in tbe Fens. From thence we are carried to the Haunted Moor by Moonlight, where Goosey Gander and his spell- bound goslings, attired all in stone, doing the terrible to all who have the temerity to approach within the pre- cinct of their near abode, and the Lady Lee, disguised as a goose girl, come to invoke the aid of Goosey Gander, who is restored with his imps by the interposition of Mona, the Spectre of the Haunted Moor. After which is discovered the ball- room of Lee Castle, brilliantly illuminated, where a dance takes place, and the trea- chery of Maluche is prevented by Michael Pascal, who changes the characters. Harlequin is sustained by M Roehez, Clown, by Southby, Pantaloon, Llie man,' jlob- bi/ nob, M. Kuline, Jack o' Botlisides, Si? nor Carlo, and Columbine, Miss Sharpe. They were all excellent. The Pantomime went off with immense eclat. ROYAL ALBERT SALOON.— The Fairy of the Coral Cave; or, Harlequin and the Magic Pancake, is got up very cleverly here, aud the pantomime characters capi- tally sustained by Mr. Paul Herring, Clown, Mr. Howard Lewis, Harlequin, Mr. Andrews, Pantaloon, and Mrs. Andrews, Columbine. We must, however, defer a more particular notice of the entertainments until a future number, CHAPTER III. A VISIT TO ALSATIA. ' Whither wouldst thou lead me now ?' cried Eustace, as the stranger pointed forwards, and by a sign ex- pressed a wish that he should follow him. ' ' Tis a place where thou wilt be safe,' answered the other. ' Sure danger surrounds thee on every side, and the delay of another moment may be fatal.' ' Who was it,' demanded Eustace, ' that bore me from the house of the astrologer rT ' Myself.' ' And wherefore ?' ' Because to have remained there longer would have been attended with the greatest danger. Twice you offended the old man, and to have done so a third time would perhaps have cost you your life.' ' What would he have done to me?' demanded Eustace. ' Ask me not,' exclaimed the other, ' but be assured that I have told you nothing but tbe truth. You have escaped the penalty of your temerity, and let that suffice until I can divulge more.' ' Your mystery confounds me!' cried Eustace; ' you hint that I am in danger, vet refuse to put me in pos- session of facts that would enable me to avoid the peril.' ' It is sufficient that I have thus far showed my anxiety to protect you,' replied the stranger. ' I have proved myself your friend, and shall continue to re- main so as long as you may appear to ilfeserve it.' How am I to know that your purposes are as fair as you would have me believe ?' ' You doubt me, then ? ' And if I do, is it much to be wondered at ? Our acquaintance is scarcely two hours old, and yet you profess to feel an interest in iny welfare that seems most unaccountable.' ' Why, then, my good intentions are thrown away, and therefore it may be better that we part at once.' ' Stay !' exclaimed Eustace, as the other was turning away to leave him; ' let us not part thus, for I must acknowledge myself your debtor, and would at least thank you for what you have done.' • Nay, I want no thanks,' exclaimed Oliver Deyn- court; ' let what lias passed be forgotten, and, if you can, think better in future of the intentions of a man whose motives are so disinterested as mine.' ' How am I to know that they are disinterested ?' ' By waiting patiently till I can explain that which at present seems involved in mystery.' ' But how long ain I to be racked with this un- certainty ?' ' That will depend on circumstances,' answered the other. Nay, a great deal will depend upon the maimer in which you accept my proffered services.' ' This conduct is most unaccountable,' exclaimed Eustace, still undeceived how he should act. ' 1 have asked for an explanation of your singular conduct to- wards me, and yet for some purpose or other am kept in the dark. Wiiat was your motive for accosting me in Paul's, Walk ?' ' To warn you of danger that yon would thoughtlessly have run into.' ' Yet we never spoke to each other before.' ' True.' ' Nor met,— at leist, not that I am aware of.' ' Ah, yes, but we have though,' answered the stran- ger; ' we have frequently met, but you were not aware of the peculiar interest I took in your affairs.' ' And from what circumstances arose the extraor- dinary interest of which you speak ?' ' That,' replied the other, ' is a part ofthe secret which, at present, must remain locked in my own bosom. I have told you that it will partly depend upon yourself how soon the revelation is made, and, there- fore, as you desire to know more, follow my injunc- tions, and fear not that I will ever deceive you.' ' Well,' exclaimed Eustace, ' I am inclined to place my trust in you, though, to confess the truth, I would rather have known something more of the man I am thus disposed to rely on.' ' At any rate, you have not changed your resolution of seeking temporary safety in Alsatia ?' ' For a day or two J ill do so,* replied the young man,' and yet it seems but a scurvy way, too, of avoiding the danger you have spoken of.' ' Why. as to that.' returned the other, ' hundreds of dashing blades besides ySUrselt have been compelled to seek an asylum in the same place. ' Tis the resort of gentlemen in difficulties, and woe unto those who would be rash enough ? o follow a fugitive " thither.' ' But the society is anything rather ths^ p such as I could wish to mingle with." ' Nay, you are too particular by half; it is true bullies, broken spendthrifts, and criminals of every shade do congregate there, because it possesses the right of sanctuary, and therefore affords them a haven of rest.' ' And are they never disturbed by the officers of jus- tice?' asked Eustace. ' Oh, no; all the avenues are watched by scouts, who, on the approach of danger, sound a horn, and raise the cry of ' an arrest!' to warn the Alsatians to flight or resistance. On these occasions terrible conflicts gene- rally take place, and I need scarcely tell you, that victory always declares itself on the side of those that have been disturbed by the messengers of justice. But see, we nDw stand upon the verge of the domain I have been speakingof, and yonder fellow that is approaching- us, is one of the scouts set to guard the inmates from in- terruption.' ' Holloa there !' shouted the fellow alluded to, who, by this time had advanced to within twenty paces of them,—' what's your business here? and— why, as I live,' he continued, as he recognised one of the party, ' if it isn't Oliver Deyncourt come back to his own quarters again.' ' Hush,' retured Deyncourt, ' speak not so loudly, Peter, or we shall have all tbe roaring boys down upon us before we want them.' ' What am I to tlo then ?' demanded the man glancing inquisitively towards Eustace St. Clair. ' Why conduct us with all speed to a place where we may obtain a lodging.' ' For yourself, or this young spark ?' ' What matters it to thee, Ky. iave ?' demanded Deyn- court ; ' and yet, since thou aft so inquisitive about the matter, I will tell thee it is for both of us, and that our abode here will probably continue for some time.' ' But is the youngster to be depended on ?' ' Why, to be sure he is, or 1 would not have introduced him to this honourable society.' ' He knows, of course, the consequence of doing any- thing that would bring upon him the displeasure of our rulers ?' ' Nav, I have not remembered to tell him that; but you, Master Peter, can in a few words give the neces- sary information to tbe- new comer.' ' Why, as luck will have it,' answered the man,' we can show him au example of our way of punishing those that, break our laws. Hal Martin last night, in a moment of drunkenness, had the insolence to call our most noble and most puissant Don Stephano a liar.' ' Which, of course, has brought down upon him tiie anger of all supporters of order and decorum.' ' You may say that, Master Deyncourt, for he is even at this moment before his judges to be tried for the high crime and misdemeanor of which he has been guilty.' ' And the result of which, Peter, both you and I can form a pretty tolerable guess.' ' Yes,' answered the other, ' he will be taken to the pump, where, having received what the learned call ari ablution, he will be cudgelled through Alsatia by all who feel inclined to join in the fun, and then driven forth never to be admitted to the privileges of our sanc- tuary.' ' I remember the fellow you speak of,' exclaimed Oliver Deyncourt; ' he was always a disagreeable com- panion, and may therefore expect to receive an ample share of chastisement from the hands of those that bear him no good will. For my own part, I have always foreseen that it would come to this, and he has to appear before judges that will not spare him.' ' Do the Alsatians at all times take the law into their own bands ?' demanded Eustace, who had hitherto been a silent listener to their conversation. * Why, to be sure we do,' replied tbe man ; ' we must have rules and regulations for the government of our honourable society, and those that choose to break any of them, must expect to be punished according to their deserts.' ' Hark!' exclaimed Deyncourt, " 1 hear them com- ing ; the trial, I suppose,' is over, and they are bring- ing the prisoner this way to give him the promised ducking. By this time the procession began to make its appear- ance, and being curious to observe the proceedings, our party moved onwards until they reached the pump, and then taking their stand at a place where they would be most out ot the way, they awaited the arrival of the un- fortunate culprit and his tormentors. ' This is he,' whispered Peter to his companions; ' yonder trembling' varlet. that stands between the two fellows with the clubs upon their shoulders. Egad, he looks almost frightened out of his wits, and if thev don't make haste with the business, the poor devil will cheat them by dying with terror.' But there was no fear of any time being lost, for all were too anxious to enjoy the fun, and in an instant the wretched wight was dragged under the pump, where lie was held down by a couple of his tormentors, whilst another, applying himself to the handle, poured upon him such a deluge, that his victim was soon compelled to shout most lustily for quarter. This, however, was not granted immediately, for the ablution was con- tinued for some little time longer, when finding he was almost exhausted, he was dragged away, and supported on his legs till he had in some degree recovered from the effect of his sousing. But even then his punishment was not concluded; for, directly afterwards, he was as- sailed with a shower of blows from ropes- ends and knotted handkerchiefs, which made him roar and caper about in a manner that proved highly amusing to his persecutors. At length, however, seeing an opportunity to escape, he suddenly bolted through an opening in the crowd, and directed his rapid flight towards the nearest point from whence he might hope to emerge from the Alsatian territory. Yet, " for all this, his torture was not yet over; for the mob followed him with merciless animosity, and the blows still continued to fall thickly upon him until he bad fairly reached the outskirts of the place, from which he had been sentenced to be ban- ished. No one seemed to enjoy the amusement more than did the illustrious Don Stephano himself, who, though he took no active part in the business, roared outright with laughter, and, as the tears rolled down his cheeks, encouraged his followers to proceed with their work, and not to leave their victim until he had been fairly hunted from the place. At last, however, he . spied out Deyncourt, and approaching him, welcomed him to his old quarters with all the warmth of bv- gone friendship. Having returned the compliments of the great man, the other, turning to Eustace St. Clair, introduced with all due form and ceremony to the person who had just joined them :— ' You have now the honour, my friend, of standing in the presence of Don Stephano, the sovereign prince of Alsatia, and the illustrious brother of the sun and moon. In this place he holds the reins of government, administers the laws, punishes delinquents, rewards the virtuous, and dispenses his gracious smiles to all who are worthy of that most distinguished honour. Such, my dear sir, is the personage you now stand be- fore, and let me hope that no action of yours will ever throw discredit upon the introduction.' ' If his highness will take my bare word for it,' an- swered Eustace, ' I here pledge myself to conform to all laws, and to pay that reverence which his exalted station has a right, to demand.' ' Why, look you, young fellow,' exclaimed Don Stephano, with mock solemnity, ' I have no objection to take the word of any man that is introduced into my dominions by a friend so esteemed as is MasterV) liver Deyncourt; but then my councillors may perhaps ob- ject to it, and, therefore, the only way lo obtain a sure footing in Alsatia is to conform to all laws aud regula- tions, and to take the oaths of allegiance iu the same manner that all otlier of my subjects do.' ' Of course, you cannot object to so reasonable a re- quest,' observed Deyncourt. ' The custom is, perhaps, after all, a very reasonable one, aud w hen the oath is taken you will be entitled to share in all the advantages and benefits belonging to the far- famed Alsatia.' 11 submit to his highness,' answered Eustace, bow- ing with mock solemnity; ' I am proud in acknow- ledging myself his vassal, and am ready to go through the required form whenever it may be requisite.' ' Then return with me,' exclaimed Don Stephano, ' and the ceremony shall be performed forthwith.' Then waving his hand pompously to the motly group around him, they once more formed themselves into rank, and attended him with all sorts of rough music, and other hideous uoises, to the low ale- house in which their midnight orgies were usually celebrated. ( To be continued.) COMMODORE NAPIER. LIFE and EXPLOITS of COMMO- DORE NAPIER, Is., post- free, ls. 4d., Five Plates, with Porlrait, & c., Second Edition, contains his Daring in the Ainericun War, his Action in an 18 Gun Brig against three French 74 Gun Ships, Bravery in the West Indies, Seizures on the Ilalian Coast, Memorable Battle and Capture of ihe Portuguese Fleet, Crowning Victories in ( he War in Egypt, Bom- bardment of Beyrout, Brilliant Defeat of Ibrahim on the Heights of Ornschojouen,- Storming of Sidon, the Siege of Acre, and Triumph at Alexandria. Is., post free, ls. 4., 5 Plates, with Portrait. Second Edition. London : Strange, Paternoster row ;'_ Purkiss, Comp- ton street, Soho. Now Publishing, an entirely New and Original Work, entitled— TTTTAT TYLER, by Pierce Egan the V T Younger, Author of Robin Hood, & c. & c. This Work is neatly printed in Demy 8vo, on beau- tiful papea, embellished with superior Wood Engrav- ings, and is published in Weekly Numbers, price Two pence, and in Parts, One Shilling. With the First Number is given an Etching on Steel, by PIERCE EGAN the Younger. Also, THE Life and Extraordinary Adventures of VIDOCQ, the Freneh Jonathan Wild, written by himself. Comprising the most Interesting and Romantic Ad- ventures, Extraordinary Escapes, and Remarkable In- cidents iu the Life of this celebrated Thief, taker. This Work is neatly printed in Demy Svo, and pub- lished in Weekly Numbers, wilh an Engraving on Wood, price One Penny, and in Parts, wilh a Steel Etching and Wrapper, price Sixpence. London:— Published by F. Hextall, II, Callierine- street. Strand. 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A F'T'SA DBSISHB BT OTO**!]% " The cleverest picture of real life and manners that ever has been drawn."— J. O. Loi- Uiart. UOABTBBLY RKVIKW, ( NO. CXI., p. 67.) " All the designs are fall 61 spirit, and descriptive of the remarkable passages n vhis tine satire on the policy, drama, literature, ami domestic habits of tua Spaniards."— MWBIS D, niTll] S. ASMODEUS ; STRAY THOUGHTS.- NO. V. BY> X. Y. Z. IDLENESS is the sure forerunner of crim. 1, infamy, and short life ; it is like rust in iron, which w'U destroy it faster than the most laborious purposes to whichit can be applied ; itoften leads persons to commit crimes, that are paid for either by the forfeiture of their lives, or banish- ment from their native country. Business is the only cure for idleness : the mind must be filled with something ; it is impossible for it 10 remain vacant: and when we have nothing useful to occupy it, melancholy or evil thoughts ;, re sure lo attract its attention. 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The parent who gives his daughter a" fashionable" education, is like a man attempting to build a house in the sands without a proper foundation ; he initiates his child into the modes of high life, without a sufficiency to maintain it; and, as the least breeze of wind destroys the house, so ( he least attractive gaudy lure will cause her to swerve from the paths of rectitude— her mind is fifled up with pride— she treats her equals in rank, of the opposite sex, with contempt— she courts the company of ihe wealthy and " genteel;" and in the end becomes a prey to some profligate " gentleman," who disguises his intentions under the pretence of respect for her abilities ; and when lie has effected her ruin, leaves her to her fate,— a life of shame and misery, and a curse on her parents, those to whom, had a proper system of education been adopted, she would most likely have proved a blessing. There is a great, line of distinction to be drawn between a " fashion- able" and a " superior" education. " ' Tis A FACT."— Nothing makes a man appear to be in the habit of speaking falsely, so much, as the frequent repetition, during the recital of a narrative, of " ' Tis a fact," or, " It's true :"— it seems to imply, on his part, the certainty of his hearers being acquainted with his loose way of talking, and he is anxious to make them be- lieve, that he is once for his life time speaking the truth. ENVY.— Wretched and miserable feelings are ( he sure companions of the man who allows the worst of human passions, Envy, to have a predominancy in bis breast. He is constantly in a state of torture and excitement, and his mind is always irritated on viewing the happiness of others. Youth, beauty, talent, honour, virtue, and all the perfections of his fellow- creatures, are odious in his sight; and thost* persons who give the highest general satisfaction, cause the greatest plea for displeasure in his bosom ; he rails against all his acquaintances, and, in the end, becomes shunned and detested by them. Blackfriars Road, 18th Dec. 1840. BT TBI AUTHOR OF " OIL * » ." TWO HUNDRED ENGRAVlMGtt. IfTER DKMGNt BT TONY JUHA. VWOT, " It Is Asmodeus who speaks, and the judicious reader will find strokeiupt the crutches, which he may improve to his advantage and editiuation.'^ OJiu PitlCVACK. " The Engravings, though worked lu with the type are, through care and skill, as cle. tr ana distinct as plates intended for separate publication." — T. LTEBARY GAZETTE. VICAR OF WAKEFIEID) BT OLIVER GOLDSMITH. THREE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS. Th- » Illustrations In this Edition will far exceed in beauty of dos. gn, and ex- quisite finish, any ever yet produced In a Penny Periodical. 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" I dare say," said he gaily, to those around him, " that the pickpockels are at work, but I have secured myself against their at- tempts." " I should have been glad had I know n your plan," replied a youth behind him, " for I havejusl lost my handkerchief." " You should have done as I have done," quoth Mr. R . " And pray how was that ?" " I crammed my natch, my purse, and my wife's bag into my handkerchief, and pnt them all into my coat- pocket, fastening them with ten or fifteen pins — let them ro!> me if they can!'' The young man complimented him on the ingenuity of his plan. On reaching the quay, where the crowd was less dense, M. R placed his hand wilh confidence on Ills pocket, to take out the precious deposit, but what was his sur- prise when he found that his coat was minus the skirls, and had been transformed in Ihe neatest possible man ner, into a jacket, thus affording to M. 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" Villain! is it thus you insult and wound the feel- ings of one whom you have already racked to tor- ture ?" " Ah, maiden," sa; d the baron, a flush of anger suf- fusing his cheeks, and his brow becoming slightly contracted, " you turn from me with scorn, and look upon me with hatred. What can I do to win but a smile from your sweet lips— lo elicit one word of kind- ness ? To gain your affections, there is no sacrifice that I would consider too great; then avert not your head in v. rath, but say you pardon me for the step to which I have been driven only by love, and that you will listen to the vows of one who will abandon every- thing else for you." It would be impossible to describe the emotion of Angelina during this speech. Her bosom swelled alternately with feelings of indignation, shame, and insulted virtue, and speech was almost denied her, until the baron once more attempted to take her hand, when, in tones of firmness and dignify, she ejaculated,— " Away, my lord— your language is a disgrace fo your sex, and should call the blush of shame upon your cheeks!— Away, and 110 longer contaminate mine ears with the expression of sentiments which oan only excite my disgust and haired. Think you, because the humble Angelina is poor, that she is to be won to your base purposes ?- j- Think you that you will tri- umph in your guilt with impunity ?— No— be sure that justice will yet overtake you, and that you will be punished for the several outrages you have committed against a defenceless girl, who never gave you cause for enmity." " I can submit to your reproaches, fair Angelina," returned the baron, stifling his passion as much as pos- sible, " for I know that I deserve ( hem. But I would make reparation, and —" " If you would do that," interrupted our heroine, " restore me instantly to liberty— to my friends, from whom you have so unjustly torn me, and make all Ihe atonement you can, by expressing your sorrow for the many hours of anguish you have caused both me and mine, and promise never to molest me again. Do this, and I will readily enter into a covenant to forgive and forget what has past." The baron paused, and seemed at a loss for some time what answer to make, and he was greatly abashed by Ihe firmness and decision of her manner, but, at length, turning lo her with an attempt to smile insinu- atingly, he said,— " Suffer you to leave me, beauteous Angelina!— oh, never! never I— that cannot, must not be.— By- Heaven, I could not exiit out of yonr presence 1 and to tbink yon were likely to become the bride of an- other, would drive me to madness. Banish the mis- taken sense of delicacy which now prompts your re- fusal to accede to my wishes, and live alone for love, and for one who will think nothing too dear lo con- tribute to your happiness. Here yon shall reign the mistress of my affections, and command whatever you desire, but liberty— that, repugnant as it is lo my feelings, I must deny yon, but I will provide for yon such pleasures, such enjoyments, as will leave you nothing to regret." " Base, heartless, unfeeling man," cried Angelina, in tones of anguish, " thus to tamper with the feelings of an unprotected female, and to seek by shameless and disgusting sophistry, lo win her to your infamous purposes. Were not the sufferings yon before put me to, the hours of misery and anguish you caused my friends, sufficient, but that you must add to it by again unjustly tearing me away from my home, and insulting my ears with the expression of your odious passion i Dare you to talk lo me of love, and think upon her whom yon swore at the altar to love and reverence ? Why am I selected as a victim of your persecution and cruelty I Away— leave me, and if I must remain in confinement, let me not be tormented by your hated presence." " ' Tis well, young lady,' 1 returned the baron, unable longer to suppress his wrath"* 1' I know from whence springs this scorn, this hatred. Hugh Clifford, Ihe smuggler, possesses those affections 1 aspire to. The lawless captain of a band of ruffians, has succeeded in gaining the heart of the gentle, the virtuous Angelina 1 Sitrely, every one must admire her choice." At the mention of the name of her lover, deep blushes suffused the cheeks of our heroine, and when Ihe uncertainty of his fate rushed upon her memory, a pang shot through her heart, which chilled the purple current that circulated in her veins, an* she trembled violently, and was altogether so deeply, so powerfully affected, that for a few moments she could not give utterance to her feelings, until she was relieved by a copious flood of tears. Suddenly, however, she con- quered her emotions, and assuming au air of dignity aud fortitude which astonished and bewildered ihe baron, she fixed upon him a look of the most ineffable contempt, as she said,— " Hugh Clifford, the smuggler- captain, possesses viitues and noble qualities, the nature of Ihe proud Baron de Morton has ever been a stranger to. He is good— he is generous— the ever- ready defender of the female sex, and one who would despise himself could he by word or deed wound their feelings, or cause them a moment's unhappitiess. The Baron de Morton would do well to follow the example set him by the. lawless captain of a band of ruffians." The barou bit his lips, scowled fearfully, and folding his arms across his breast, paced the apartment to and fro, iu a stato of great excitement. At length, as a smile of secret exultation dwelt upon his features, he turned to Angelina, and in a tone of irony, observed, — " But yet this noble, this brave, this generous smuggler- captain, this robber, who is to set examples of virtue and integrity to his fallow- creatures, could not save himself from the pow er of his enemy !" " My God I" ejaculated the alarmed damsel, " are then, my worst surmises verified, and is the unfortunate Clifford, if he still lives, lite prisoner of —" " He who sues your affections," added De Morton, with a look of triumph, " but one word from yon can restore him to liberty. Say that you will consent lo reign the mistress of —" " Hold, villain !" interrupted Angelina, " pollute not mine ears with a repetition of that with which you have already disgusted me. The Almighty will pro- tect him from vour malevolence, and I know he would sooner suffer all the horrors which your inhuman nature could invent, than he would purchase his liberty at the sacrifice ofthe virtue and happiness of her, upon whom his every thought, his eve'ry wish, his whole soul is fixed." " And of what will avail his obstinacy or yours said the baron; " are you not securely in my power, and could I not obtain that by force which now I deign to sue for ? Were it not my wish to win your love, and lo prove to you the admiration and regard you have excited ill my breast, I could this moment bask in those enjoyments I have taken so much trouble to obtain." Angelina wrung her hands in despair, and gave utterance to a groan of intense ngony. " Come, come, lovely maiden," said the baron, in a milder tone, " you see Ihe folly, the uselessnes of re- maining obstinate, and opposing me; banish all anger " from your breast, endeavour to smile upon the vows o" one who loves you to distraction, and the gates of liberty shall instantly be unbarred to Hugh Clifford." " Never! never!" cried Angelina, energetically. " Then your lover dies upon a scaffold!" answered the baron. The maiden fixed upon him a look of con- tempt. " Nay, proud beauty," continued DeMqrton, " you affect to treat my threats with scorn, but you may too soon, nevertheless, find them true. A price is set upon the life of Hugh Clifford, for crimes which render him amenable to the severest penalty, and to that fate it is in my power this minute to consign him," A feeling of the most inexpressible horror fell upon the heart of Angelina, when the baron gave utterance to these words; her face, became ghastly pale, her limbs trembled, and had she not dropped into a chair which was close by, she must have fallen to the floor. But in a very short time she recovered, so far as to be able lo turn upon the baron a look, which seemed as if it would penetrate to his soul, aud then, in a solemn voice, ejaculated,— '' Baron de Morton, you cannot speak the truth.— Hugh Clifford cannot ever have been guilty of crimes that would render him liable to the punishment of death. It is only done lo harrow up my feelings, and to exact from me a promise which virtue and every law, human and divine, forbids. But, surely, were it even true, cruel as you are, you could never be guilty of so barbarous a deed ?" " I repeat that I have spoken the truth," said De Morton, " but," he added, in a softened tons, " why will you, sweet maiden, by your scorn and obstinacy, force me to behave in a manner from which my nature revolts? Why will you not endeavour to banish from your bosom the hatred and resentment you bear towards me, and make me your devoted slave, studious to pro- mote your happiness, aud anxious to banish from your memory all recollection of the past. Nay, do not frown so disdainfully upon me, but let this kiss end at once all ill feeling, and be '. lie prelude lo future joys!" As the baron spoke, he threw his arms around the waist of Angelina, and was about to put his words into execution, when, at that moment, he was arrested in his purpose, by a sound resembling a deep sigh or a hollow gust of wind, which seemed to proceed from the adjoining apartment, the door of which was standing wide open. The baron released onr heroine, who trembled wilh terror, and, looking towards the spot from whence the sound appeared to issue, his eyes became fixed upon the portrait which had so particu- larly engaged the attention of Angelina, and which, at that moment, appeared to his terrified imagination to move, and the bo3om to heave. His face became ghastly pale in an instant, his lips quivered, and turn- ing away from the contemplation of the portrait, with a shudder of- horror, he said, as he hastily quitted the THE DOOMED ONE I OR, THE FATAL SECRET. A ROMANTIC LEGEND.— BY A. A. L. AUTHOR OF " TUB CURSE," " THE BROKEN BOTTLE, & C. & C. ( Written expressly for the '' Penny Sunday Times.") ROLANDO.- —" I tell thee she is beautiful, Aye, fair as th' rose first blushing to th' morn. PHILOSOPHER.— She may be so ; for straws will swim upon The ocean's top, but pearls lie in it's deeps ! A glitt'ring, brazen thing will strike the eye Ofcommon man; but the pure golden ore Is only known by those of cunning skill. ROL.— You mean then this :— that though she's fair in form, Her heart is black as hell ? PHIL.— 1 do ! " room,— ' I will see you again— auon, AngeliMa, for the present, farewell, and remember my words." As he spoke, he cast one more glance of terror towards the poitrait, and left the apartment, while Angelina stood for a few minutes in a state of complete stupefaction, and could neither move nor utter the least exclamation. When she did somewhat recover, the horror of her feelings was indescribable. The determined persecu lion of the baron— Ihe insults by which her ears had oeen contaminated— the confinement of Hugh Clifford, and the danger in which the baron had asserted he was placed—" a price get upon his life"— all— all rushed upon her memory, at once, and nearly over- whelmed her; but, at length, sinking upon a chair, she found some relief in a torrent, of tears. When she could bring her mind to reflect more calmly and dispassionately upon her situation, she en- deavoured to find out. some means by which she could indulge in the hope of escaping from tile power of Ihe villain who detained her, but alas! th « re was none, unless it was in the liberation from confinement of Hugh Clifford ; but the improbability of thai was too deeply impressed upon lier mind, for her to give it any encouragement; for it was not. likely that Ihe baron would ever release him, ( although he had promised so toxicated with joy at beholding said,— so fine a prospect, he " And I must wander forth a beggar— despised by those companions who, but a day ago, did luxuriate at my table— with the brand upon my name of a spend- thrift, a libertine, a beggard lord.' I, who yesterday, reposed on couches of crimson, who lived in a kingly mansion, who had for companions princes, who fared sumptuously as a monarch— I, must make this cold, damp ground my resting place, the trees of this forest my covering, the wild boars my companions, the grass of the field my repast! But why shall I repine ? Did I not listen with befooled eagerness to tbe flatteries of my friends? Friends! ha! ha! even such, as the wolves are to, the lamb ! But I listened— and for their empty praise. I have paid them in losing all. Fool 1 fool 1 that I was, 4hat I could not see through their sycophancy. My castle, my lands, my slaves, all, all, have dwindled away, and 1 am a beggar. I begged of them to give me a little time, and 1 would pay my gambling debts. I cringed, I— I supplicated; but they laughed me to scorn ! Yea, I was turned from my house by those I had entertained ! I sought her; but she likewise saw me as a beggar. ' She could not think of uniting herself to misery !' God of heaven ! do 1 dream ? Could Rosaline have used those damning words ?— or was it some fiend of hell in her form ? No, no, no, I took her hand— 1 raised it to my lips: she snatched it from me— she bade me begone 1 Madness! madness ! yet a little while before you take possession of my brain ! Yes '. she— she for whom I forsook my God, despised, abhorred, loathed me,— me !" And the agonized Ronald de Lutsbourg, overpowered by the violence of his feelings, sank on the ground in a " death- like swoon. The grassy sward, on which de Lutsbourg stood, as he spoke, was in the centre of an immense forest, through whose trees the wind came in fitful guests and hollow, moaning. It. was, nevertheless, a beautiful night; the virgin moon shone placently on the scene, silvering the dark leaves of the surrounding trees with her beautiful tints, and illumining the cloudless sky, in which she reigned, with her pale beams. It was a night which would have directed the devotees thoughts to his Creator ; and the profound stillness around would have instilled into his mind love and gratitude to Omnipo- tence for the light which " rules the night." But not so de Lutsbourg ; black revenge had possession of his soul, and springing from the ground, he stood with his arms across his breast like the arch- fiend contemplating hell! He was a young man of about thirty, of robust con-, i stitution, and noble stature; his clothes were of the richest materials, but torn to ribbons by the trees and hedges he had passed by; his cap was off, and his hair hung down his neck and over his face in ragged con- fusion. Long he stood in deep thought, aud dreadful " It is thine, and ijiore likewise if thou acceptest the condition." " Beware ! trust not thy soul to Satan 1" thundered some voice in the ear of de Lutsbourg, but he heeded it not, and said,— " What is it ?" " Simply this," returned the arch- fiend. " Thou shalt tell no one from whom thou receivedst this gold ; the lnstant thou dost, that instant thou art mine, bodv and soul, for ever ! Dost accept ?" " Beware!" again shouted the voice with solemn emphasis. " Heed him not," instantly said Satan ; " ' tis but some maddened fool. Again I ask you, do you con- sent ?" " Beware .'- for the third time," exclaimed the super- natural voice. " Wilt thou consent?" again demanded Satan, as he saw de Lutsbourg waver. " Wilt thou go forth a beggar, when, by a word, you can obtain wealth and power unlimited ?" " No!" exclaimed the infatuated de Lutsbourg, " I agree 1" That instant a weeping and wailing rose upon the air, and then a horrid shout of exultation. Lucifer grew to an immense height, and seizing the now terrified de Lutsbourg, he swung him high in the air, and dashed him to tbe ground witli a force that made the blood gush forth from his eyes, nose, and mouth. " Sign !" roared forth the arch- fiend, as he dipped a pen in de Lutsbourg's blood, and held it to him wilh the parchment, " Sign, thou doomed one, sign !" De Lutsbourg, hardly conscious of what he was doing, arose, and signed the paper that Satan held. The blood hissed, like water touching red hot iron', as it passed over the paper, and then became black as jet. An ex- c lilting smile played over the features of Lucifer, andj when de Lutsbourg had signed the condemnation of his own soul, he ordered gold to be brought until a pyramid should be made twice the height of de Lutsbourg. This was instantly done, and Satan, snatching the paper from his victim, placed his hand over the heart of de Lutsbourg; a sudden pang shot through him, and he fell senseless to the ground. A demoniacal laugh re- verbrated through the air, and Satan, with his hideous implement and devils, vanished, singing in chorus the following:— " All hail! prince of hell, a victim we'll bring, To own thou alone of the earth art t. he king ; A heart we have bought thee with some useless gold, Which to thee shall be paid in hell tenfold ! Adieu ! you doomed one, adieu ! adieu ! The weight of your gold you will ever rue '. to do, if she would accede to his wishes,) . S he would, ^^' Ji^ SS of course, feel certain that Clifford would immedi- ately avail himself of such an opportunity to make her situation known to her friends, and to adopt some scheme to enforce her release from incarceration. When she thought of ( his, and imagined to herself what must now he the sufferings of Clifford, to know that she was in the power of the baron, her bitterest foe, und he without the means lo render her any assistance, she wrung her hands, and paced the room with uneven steps, in a State of Ihe greatest agony and despair. She was interrupted in the midst of her grief, by the entrance of the old woman, who brought wilh her the morning's repast, and having set it upon the table, turned to Angelina, and, in a tone of curiosity, said,— " For goodness sake, young woman, what have you been saying to the baron, to put him into such a violent state of agitation? He has just left the Tower, accom- panied by Ruthven, and he looked so pale, and he tiembled so, lackoday ! I couid not help looking at him with wonder. Whatever can have been the matter ?" '* The power of his own conscience has worked its terrors upon him," replied Angelina; " the guilty are aure to meet with au earthly punishment iu some way or Ihe other." Yon talk very boldly, methinks, young woman," answered the old beldame, " but it is well the baron does not hear you. Conscience, indeed !— But let me dvise you not to remain obstinately blind to your own interest; if you readily assent to the baron's wishes, I know that he will make it his constant study to contribute to your happiness and enjoyment, but if on Ihe other hand, you incense him, you must take the consequences. Angelina was so thoroughly disgusted wilh the coarse and revolting manners ofthe old woman, and the observations she made use of, that she averted her looks, and did not return her any answer; but, at length, thinking it would be much more politic to en- deavour to make a friend of her than an enemy, ( if it was possible to excite friendship in such a flinty bosom,) she made some observation of a coneilatory de- scription, which seemed to have the effect desired. She inquired after Bridget. " Oil, she is getting on very well," answered fhe old woman—" she will, no doubt, soon recover from the effects of the just punishment she has received.'' ' Pray God she may," ejaculated Angelina, with fervour. " Ah, well, for my part," remarked the woman, " 1 do not see that she deserves the least pity ; and I only hope that what she has suffered will briug her to her senses, and that she may henceforward know her duty better to her husband and her master." [ To be continued.) CONJUGAL HARMONY.— A man in Germany advertised that he had an organ that would play any tune out of ah enumerated set at the command of any one of the au- dience; this made a great noise at the time, and puzzled all the conjurors aud philosophers of the place. The organ was placed on a table with its back against ihe wall, the company were invited to examine it, then ask for a tune, which was immediately played, aud if any one desired it to stop it was immediately silent! This went on for a long time, and the ingenious inventor was making a rapid fortune, and the secret would have been buried wilh him, had he not behaved very inharmoniously to his wife one day, just before the performance began. The room was crowded as usual, and a tune was called for, but not a note came; the owner became uneasy, and said in a coaxing tone, " Do blay, my coot organ," still not a sound was heard ; he got out of patience, and threatened to smash the instrument in pieces, when a hoarse female voice was heard to growl out, " Ay, do, you tyvel, preak the organs as yon proke my head this morning." This was too much for the choleric German, he took hold of a chair, and gave the instrument such a whack, that it drove through the papei' partition in the wall, carrying with it another organ, which had been placed at the back of the sham one, at which sat the ob- stinate grinder— his wife ! DEAN SWIFT.— Dean Swift's barber one day told him mat he had taken a public- house. " And what's your sign ?" said the dean. " Oh,' The Pole and Basin,' and if your worship would just write me a few lines to put upon it by way of motto, I have no doubt but it would draw me plenty of customers." The dean took out his pencil, and wrote ihe following couplet;— Rove not from pole to pole but step iu here, Where nought excels the shaving but the beer. ROAST PIG— A BA KED BULL.— The following ap- pears in a Sunday paper:—" For our own parts, we know of no sight more agreeable than that of Ihe balced dinners carried from the oven after church time— the bit of meat in the pool of gravy in the batter pud- ding, called toad- in- the- hole; the shoulder of mutton and potatoes; and, peradvenlure, the roast pig." closely knit, and repeatedly lie pressed his throbbing temples between his hands; at length, clenching one hand in his hair, and thrusting the other in his bosom, lie exclaimed, " Fiends of hell! assist me in my pur- pose, grant me power and wealth, and I am thine for ever 1" Scarcely hail he given utterance to tlise unhallowed words, when a dreadful moaning sounded through the forest, and a dense black cloud arose from the west, and shaped its course to where bright Cynthia was shining. On and on it came, followed by olhers of a blacker, cast, until it totally eclipsed the moon, and in- volved the place in pitchy darkness. Now the wind howled, arid the thunder " rolled, whilst the lightning flashed around, blasting the. goodly trees about, and spreading a ghastly momentary glare upon the un- hallowed de Lutsbourc. But. hf- moted not— he cared not; the earth might have been rent in twain, and he would not have seen it. Had he become stone ? Was he already in the power of Satan-? Or was he so buried in thought that he could not discern f We know not; but there he stood immoveable as a statue! The storm, after reaching its climax, suddenly lulled, and all was silent and dark as the grave, save the hollow unearthly moaning which still continued iu the wood. A far- distant horrid yell now broke upon the ear, and then a blue sulphurous smoke arose from the ground around de Lutsbourg, enveloping him in its fumes. It remained but an instant, and then it wafted away, and again was the place in total darkness. Blue flames now flashed through the air, and de Lutsbourg, at length aroused from his stupor, found, to his horror, that lie stood in a circle composed of human skulls aud thigh bones of the defunct, crossed, aud noisome toads, lizards, and venomous serpents. Over the branches of the trees crawled disgusting, lanky reptiles, and up the trees climbed terrific serpents, who ever and anon spat fire at the horror- stricken de Lutsbourg. In vain lie attempted to pass the supernatural boundary; for, when he came to the circle, a fierce flame, as from a furnace, rushed forth, and drove him back again to the centre. He attempted to call upon his despised Maker, but, alas! his tongue was bound, and the only sound he could make was like the hissing ofa serpent. Foiled in his desperate efforts to extricate himself from the. hellish spell which bound him, he retired to the centre of the fiendish circle, and iu dreadful agony awaited the result of this horrid scene. On his retiring, a shout of exultation, which rose as from thousands npon thousands of devils, struck terror upon the heart of de Lutsbourg, whilst a terrific peal of thunder, louder than a thousand pieces of artillery, deafened his ears. Flames of yellow and blue fire now rose from the ground, which, after remaining a few moments, were wafted away, and the place was again dark as the tomb. Again tlie thunder rolled, again the flames arose, and again they died away. But a louder peal than any now reverberated through the air, aud immense flames burst forth, flaring higher than any of the trees of the forest, and sending forth light that dazzled the eyes of de Lutsbourg, and made him shroud them with his hands. Suddenly the flames went out, and de Luts- bourg, taking his hands from his eyes, perceived, by the light which a few blue flames emitted, a being of beau- tiful and fascinating exterior, standing before him out- side the circle in which he was. It would be useless for us to attempt to describe the appearance of Satan, but far from being the mass of hideous deformity he is gene- rally represented, he was quite the reverse, and seemed to be a being that man would rather admire than loathe. Nor do we think our hypothesis is merely an exaggera- tion of our own brain, or that it is entirely unsupported; for would man be so prone to do evil were sin of such " hideous mien" as to frighteu- him away ? But we tire the reader, and are forgetting our tale. T^ e outward appearance of Satan was majestic and seducive; and as he stepped over tiie cursed circle, long slimy worms issued from the hollow eyelet holes of the defunct, crawling about in loathsome disorder, the hideous reptiles arose, aud the toads crawled about, adding their disgusting croaking to the terrific hissing of the other noisome things. The arch- fiend now went up to the horror- stricken de Lutsbourg, and seizing him by the arm, compelled him to sit clown by his side. A dreadful shriek was given by him, occasioned by the sudden thrill of agony which shot through him on the touch of the devil. His speech was restore'd, but, alas! he was rooted to the spot on which he. sat; his eyes sought fearfully the countenance of the enemy of man, and he perceived that that face which before appeared so bland and beautiful, had now all the features of hell stamped thereon. Alas ! whilst at a distance, Satan seemed to the doomed de Lutsbourg a being of majestic demeanour, but now that ' de Lutsbourg was in his power, Satan appeared before him arrayed in his true garments. The dread enemy spoke not, but turning nis bloodshot eyes on de Luts- bourg, he pointed with his long lank fingers to his left. De Lutsbourg's eyes followed the direction, and he saw heaps of gold, brighter than the sun in the meridian of his glory, heaped there. Long did his eyes feast them- selves uonthis rich repast, and Satan and hell were for- gotten in the contemplation of how much power might be obtained by such vast and accumulated wealth. When the cunning fiend thought de Lut3bourg was in- Ronald de Lutsbourg was reinstated in his castle, his lands, and slaves. He had had revenge! His former companions came, and wished to regain his favour, but he ordered them from his presence, he bade his re- tainers turn tin m J'rom bis door. Rosaline came, and with the artfulness of an ac'ress, endeavoured to again reign mistress of his heart; but he was not to be de- ceived ; he bade her haughtily begone, nor ever let him see her face in his house again. Five years' pa, t by, during which de Lutsbourg plunged aaain into scenes of debauchery and dissipa- tion, and at this time lie was seated at the head of a groaning table, round which were seated his parasitical followers. The wine cup passed round, and all seemed hilarity and mirth; toasts and jests were given, and jocund laughter seemed to rule the roast. But though he endeavoured to conceal it. de Lutshourg had some heavy concern lying at his heart; bis guests perceived it, and rallied him upon it. He smiled at their wtll- meanl jokes, but, in spite of himself, he would a » ain sink into thoughtfuiness. What can cause that gloom upon his brow ? Has he not wealth and power?— what more does he require ? Speak, what causes this knitted brow— this brow of care— of anguish ? Is it love-? Ye'. Although possessed of wealth and power unlimited, lie was forced to humble himself before the despot love. Whilst perambulating his grounds, he heard, on coming to the banks of a river, the dulcet strains of a lute, accompanied by a voice of matchless mellifluence, proceeding from a rocky part of the land, on the side where he was. The river rippling by the edge elf the forest that surrounded tile castle, and the soft uiurmur- _ of the stream, and waving ofthe trees, coupled with the beautiful melody, completely' rooted de Lutsbourg to t ie spot on which he stood. For a long time he continued listening to the ballad, and then rushing up the rock, he was enraptured^ as he stood, and gazed upon a maiden of incomparable beauty. She was dressed in a simple robe of white, Which kept close t- ft her slender waist by a girdle of burnished gold, set off to advantage the elegant form it enclosed; her dark raven tresses hung down lier neck in beautiful disorder, and her fair bosom, heightened in fairness by the dark hair that clustered about, heaved and sunk with the cadence of her song; A colour which the breeze had diffused over her cheek, on which the silken lashes of her eyes rested, rivalled the far- famed rose ; a fairy foot, and well turned ancle, peeped from beneath her dress, and as she leaned over her lute touching its strings with a lightness and delicacy almost super- natural, oe Lutsbourg thought he beheld a being more of heaven than of earth. How long de Lutsbourg would have feasted his eyes upon this fairy sylph, we do not presume to know ; but she happening to raise her eyes, saw him, and uttering a faint shriek, fled. De Lutsbourg pursued, in vain entreating her to stop; she ran along with the agility of a fawn, until she reached a part, of the grounds which turned abruptly into a thick shrubbery; here, on de Lutsbourg's arrival, she was lost to sight. He flew into the shrubbery, he dashed along the paths, be searched about the places adjacent, but all in vain; be then rushed back to tbe plaoe where be had first seen her, and threw himself upon the spot where she had sat, he kissed the ground ; he called heaven and hell to witness that she alone should be his bride, and swore by every thing sacred and awful lhat he would find her if it cost him his life. Little did de Lutsbourg sleep that night, and the dreams that he had were horrid aud terrific; spectres arose, and in solemn words bade him as he valued his soul to foreet having seen the, maiden ; hideous mon- sters flitted by him, bearing with them tbe maiden, and pointing triumphantly to tiie word " Hell!" Daylight came, and de Lutsbourg left his pillow, and went to the place where he had seen the mysterious maiden. Demons of hell 1 did he diearii, or was it really her who sat there in the same position he had seen her the pre ceding day ? " ' Tis she! ' tis she!" and he sprang for- ward with the speed of lightning ; he seized her arm — he looked— he had but the branch of a tree in his grasp. She had again fled, but whither he knew not. " If he were maddened by his loss the preceding day, how much more was he now. He returned to his castle with a heated brain, his heart lost, and his mind liarrassed above bearance. He had invited numerous of his friends to a banquet that day, but he cared not for their company; however, he behaved as became the host, and endeavoured to conceal his care from them ; but, as we before said, his guests perceived that something was the matter with their entertainer, and they rallied him upon his fretfulness. It was late before the guests departed, and then de Lutsbourg sought his pillow with a heavy heart. He was not happy, alas! lie bad not been so since his un- holy compact with Satan ; he had forgotten to have had happiness made the essential part of his treaty. In- numerable things had troubled him, and many, many, times had lie been asked by pouting lips and glancing eyes how he had obta; ned such immense wealth. Once had he been taken before the Inquisition, and charged with being in league with the devil, but neither torture nor the rack could wring from him that secret which would have plunged his soul into the cursed abode of bis enemy. He escaped ; and soon had he full revenge upon his persecutors for the tortures they had inflicted upon him. They shortly were numbered with the dead, either by slow poison, or the more sure stiletto of the assassin. Soon as daylight came, de Lutsbourg hied to the place where he had seen the fair enslaver, but she was not there. He stayed many a weary hour, but she came not; and as he descended from the rock, and went to- wards his castle, he cursed himself at having driven her away by his violence the precedinj morn. For a week did lie go regularly to the spot, but he saw not man nor maid; he instituted riaorous inquiries among his re- tainers whether they bad ever seen or beard her, and none of them answered in the affirmative. His nights were sleepless— his tongue was parched— he was in a raging fever. He ordered the country to be scoured for miles round; but they found her not. He had spies placed round the rock; but no maiden came. On the eighth day he eoi » manded the scouts to come away, and as the sun wasshedding his last golden beams of day, he went lo the enchanting rock. Slowly and cautiously he drew near, and ou arriving to within fifty paces of it, he heard the self- same voice accompanied by the dulcet lute. Willi noiseless step be climbed the aclivity, and saw the fairy sylph leaning over her in- strument as when he first beheld her. She seemed more beautiful than ever to de Lutsbourg, and hiding himself behind a part of the rock that jutted forth, he aazed long and ardently at the beautiful maid before him. She had concluded her song, and was playing a soft symphony precedent to another. She began, and the impassioned de Lutsbourg dwelt upon every word she sang with frenzied love. Could it be him whom she addressed? Did he hear aright, or was it some fairy dream ? Hark! Yes, those words breathed in the most fervent tone of love were addressed to de Lutsbourg. From the tenor of her song, she had long, but secretly, loved de Lutsbourg. He could hear no more, but start - iifg from his covert, he flew upon the wings of love to his charmer, and detaining the shrieking maid by her band, he led her to her seat, and throwing himself on his knees before her, besought her as she valued her soul to save her from destruction, by consenting to be- come his bride. * * * * * It was the bridle morn, and de Lutsbourg, sur- rounded by a brilliant assembly of friends, was waiting the coming of the bride; she seemed extremely tardy to the impatient bridegroom, but a step in the corridor raised his hopes; tbe door opened, and his chamber- lain entered. " What is it, Ricardo ?" demanded de Lutsbourg. " The lady Margerite," replied the vassal, with a profound reverence, " desires to see my lord privately ' this instant." " You will excuse me a moment, my friends," said de Lutsbourg, and following the menial, he entered the room where his bride was. The chamberlain, bowing, retired. She was seated on a sofa, arrayed most elegantly in her bridal dress, and was weeping bitterly. De Luts- bourg was distressed, and asked lier affectionately to acquaint him with the cause; she raised lier tearfuf eyes to his face, and embracing her fondly, she fell upon his breast, and wept more sorely. The bride- groom felt excessively annoyed, and again asked her the cause of her distress; her eyes glanced around the room, and she asked if they were alone. " We are," he replied. " And, oh! my Margerite, refrain no longer from tilling me the reason of this weeping." « " Ronald!" she exclaimed, in a voice choked with emotion, " my Ronald, were I to tell thee, thou wouldst laugh me to scorn; and yet, I must tell thee, for without thou answerest me truly, 1 cannot call thee mine." " Speak, in mercy's sake, speak !" exclaimed the torr tured de Lutsbourg. " Would that I could rely upon being answered," she returned; " but, alas ! I fear thou Wilt not givfr me thy confidence even on our bridal day." " Have I then sank so low in the opinion of Mar- gerite, that she thinks « me a man who is fale to his word?" asked Rotialil de Lutsbourg reproachfully. " Upbraid me not, Ronald," returned Margerite, bursting afresh into tears. " I have too much reason to fear we shall not be united this day." " Margerite, Margerite, what meanest, thou ?" " Where, my Ronald, gottest thou this immense wealth ?" " Margerite, why— ah," replied de Lutsbourg, eon- fused, " I— I got it fairly, and " " Ronald, thou playest me false. Long, long have I loved thee with ardent affection, and I thought it was returned. I had heard that thou didst receive this wealth from Satan, and I vowed that unless thou toldst me whether thou didst, I would not be thy bride." " Margerite, Margerite, pity my sufferings; were I to tell thee——" and interrupting himself, he laid his cheek against the burning one of Margerite; but her eyes flashed with anger, and she said,— " If as a bride thou wilt not confide in me, how am 1 to expect comfort from thee when a wife! No, de Luts- bourg, I find I have loved a deceiver." " Say not so, Margerite— say not so. Oh, my Mar- gerite, if I dared " " Dared— dared !" she repeated, " if you dared make a confidant of your wife ? Is such the speech for a bridegroom to make? But, Ronald," and she flung herself weeping on her knees before him. " The com- pany will wonder at our absence; say, will you tell ine, and break the chaiu that, binds me to my vow, or am I to remain Margerite di Faranehi ?" De Lntsbourg hesitated. The beautiful being before him kneeling, fier weeping eyes raised to his face, with an entreating look, her bosom heaving with emotion, seemed to be awaiting like a culprit her doom from the judge, ' fhe winning tone of woman is at all times encnanting ; but when she adds to beauty unfeigned emotion and supplicating posture, it becomes irresisti- ble. Alas! de Lutsbourg found it so ; he pressed his hands before his eyes to shut out her beauty, but iu vain ; and falling on her bosom, he pressed ner to his heartland in an evil moment, entrusted her with " The Fatal Secret!" A yell of delight issued from the walls, and de Luts- bourg clung for protection to his bride; but horror! horror 1 there was a supernatural glare in those eyes that struck terror into the heart of the guilty Ronald. She reeled to him, and exclaiming in reproachful terms, " Ronald, Ronald, thou hast done this!" fell into hir, arms a corpse. He laid her on the sofa, and flinging himself on the body, gave way to the most harrowing grief; but he started on his feet when he heard a de- moniacal laugh ring through the apartment, and turn- ing to whence the sound came, lie beheld the dreadful form of the revengeful arch- fiend. " Fool! Madman !" roared forth he, " Thou art mine, for ever mine!" And he stretched forth his hands to grasp tbe horror- stricken wretch, but he shrinked from his touch, and reeled to a corner where the cross was displayed. He hastened— he liad to pass the couch on which his dead bride laid— he arrived lo within a yard of the cross— his fingers were within an inch of touching it, when his form was convulsed, his limbs palsied with fear, when he saw his bride assume the ilrSadful form of a devil! who seizing him round the waist, flung him into the clutches of Satan. " Spare nie, Satan ! spare me but a day 1" shrieked the wretched de Lutsbourg'. Not an hour! Thou hast divulged the secret! Thou art MINE !" Flames of fire blazed around them ; the form of Mar- jerite ( now the form of a devil) kept torturing him, and iiis shocking shrieks were horrible to hear. His friends and retainers rushed to the room, but were instantly driven back aud out of the castle, by the suffocating fumes which issued forth. Serpents and hideous rep- tiles crawled over him, biting and stinging him, and the. fierce flames scorched him, but did not burn him in- stantly to death; no, all that day, and greater part of the night, was de Lutsbourg tormented. In vain his friends and retainers tried to extinguish the flames which now enveloped the castle, for at every attempt, a gust of wind swept the flames down upon them, and made them retreat far away from the place. During this time, the shrieks of de Lutsbourg were dreadful, and continued until the clock which remained in the turret of the highest tower tolled the hour of midnight. At this instant, a tremendous clap of thunder shook the tower and all the castle down to the ground ; a fierce large blaze rushed up, and the alarmed spectators ob- served a laj4; e ball oi' fire issue from the centre of it, and with the swiftness of lightning whiz along the air until out of sight. It was Satan journeying to hell, acconw panied by Ronald de Lutsbourg, " The Doomed One !" TO HOME. Scenes of my youth, where oft I've strayed Beneath the scented hawthorn's shade ; Where oft I've climbed in childish glee Aud merriment, the high elm tree, To take the nest discovered there, And show to those ( who did not dare To follow, to my perilous height) The nest and eggs so pure and white. Ah, days of gladness, ne'er again Shall ye return, to so< 5the the pain My heart feels, leaving the dear home 1 ne'er shall see whene'er I come As now 1 view thee, native spot'. Enshriu'd in memory's purest thought; Farewell, a long farewell to thee ;— I'll think of thee where'er I be, V'- FI ' ALPHA. f, J . i I \