PENNY LONDON:— SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1840, HOlttt. poller, THE LATE SHOCKING ACCIDENT ON THE EASTERN COUNTIES RAILWAY WORSHIP STREET. 1 i - A FREE- BOOTER.— Murdoch O'Farrell, a longs lanky, parrot- beaked, ragged- headed Hibernian, wa^ brought up in the custody of a policeman, chargen with having made free with four pairs of Wellingto boots, which had been hanging at the door of Mr. Smith" a boot and shoe- maker, in the vicinity of the office' The officer stated that while he was on duty in theistree where the prosecutor lived, he saw the defendant walk up to the door, and after gazing for a second or two at the highly- polished buckets" that were displayed there, he deliberately tucked four pair of them under his arm, and run offwit'ii them, when he ( the police- man) pursued him, and took him into custody. MAGISTRATE.— Why he is what I should call a re- g\ tff\ rfrce- booter! POLICEMAN.— Yes, your worship, he is an old of- fender, and generally contrives to get a good boot- y ! MAGISTRATE.— Well, prisoner, what have you got to say in answer to this charge ? PRISONER.— Fait! and I suppose now that all I can say will be bootless 1 Why yer see, yer wurtchip, I houlds widdat there maxim of " There is nothing like leather," and so as I passed by this jontleman's shop, the boots looked so tempt'm' dat for the life of me 1 could not help takin' care o' them ; but bad luck to me for so doing, I know I've put my foot in it, anyhow. I hope yer honour's reverance will be marcilul lo me, on account of my poor dear Katty, who expects to be confined vvid twins every hour. The, prisoner was committed for trial. upon his heel, and marchedfyverSto the opposite sides his iirins'stuck a- kimbo, his robe Hying, and his feather nodding, in pretty accurate burlesque of the manner of Mossop. His friends composing a major portion of the audience, die clapping of hands, waving of lianker- cliie.' s, and yelling of iips that greetedjhim, I, have no powers of expression to describe, but must leave to my reader's " powers of conception." When the tumult had a little subsided, Barret began to act ; but some of his more intimate acquaintance, faking a dislike to his costume, interrupted him with exclamations of " Paddy Barret, Paddy Barret 1 Barret, however, was con- scious of the proprieties of his station, and, turning a dignified deaf ear to such addresses proceeded. His friends now resorted to a species of notice to obtain his, which ii beautifully peculiar to an Irish audience—" a groan for Mr. Barret." That happened, however, not to be the first time he had heard it ; and as we pay little respect to things we are familar with, Barret pro- ceeded. The " dailirgs" were now stimulated to a decisive measure, by aiming an Irish apricot at bis nod- ding plume, and shouting out, " Divil hum ye, Paddy Barret! will you lave off spaking lo that lady, and listen?" The potato triumphed; and the actor, walk- ing forward to the lamps desired to be acquainted with his palrons' wishes.—" 1' ut some powder in your jasey, you black- looking coal- haver I"—" Oh ! that all you want, my jewel > why didn't yon say so before? Put some powder in mv wig I surely I'll do that tiling ; but I have ounlv lo tell you, my darlings, that I'm a Scotch jontleman to- night," and not Mr. Benjamin Barret; and so— " " Get out wid your dirtiness, Paddy— you chimney swaper— you tragedy crow 1 Do you think to bother us wid your black looks? Go and powder your jasey. yon divil's own body- box- maker."—" Oh, to be sure", I'll do that thing." Saying which, he made alow bow, and retreated to the green room, leaving the au- dience and Lord anil Lady Randolph to amuse themselves ml interim as tl- ey pleased. Ilarret on this occasion wore a stiffly- starched lady's roll'; and the waggish bar- ber powdered him so sufficiently as to lodge a ridge round his throat, and give him the face of the ghost of Hamlet's father. When he returned to the stage, he was received w ith a shout of laughter that threatened to rend the roof. Paddy bowed full low for the hon- our conferred on him, and was about to proceed, when the " Norman Qjiav" critics were at him again. " Ar- rah! the boy's been in a snow- storm. By the powers ! he has put'his head in a flour- sack! Paddy, Paddy Barret!" Glenah on disregarded them sometime with a very laudable spirit of contempt, till the yells, groans, epithets, and exclamations, swelled the diabolic chorus to a negation of the sense of heariog. He then came forward a second time to enquire their wishes.— " Leerties anil Jontlemen, what may it plase ye to want now!''— Pin some paint on your nose," was the reply.—" What,"—" Put some paint oil your nose, you ghost alive I"—" Paint my nose to play tragedy ! Oil, bad luck to your taste ! I tell you what, Terence M! Mulligan, and you, Larry Casey, with your two ugly mugs up in Ihe boxes yonder, I see how it is: Ihe Devil himself wouldn't plase ye to- night; so you may just come down and play the karakter yourselves— for Ihe ghost of another line will I never spake to- night."— Saying which, he took off his wig, and shaking its powder at them contemptuously, walked off the stage in a truly tragical strut.— The prompter was consequently obliged to coine on and read the remain- der of the part. THEVERV LAST.— A friend who recently passed through the town of . in New Hampshire, relates the follow- ing anecdote, as told to him whilst there. There was a very pious man— a deacon ofhis church— residing in the town by the name of Day— hy trade a cooper. One Sab- hath morning he heard a number of boys playing n front ofhis house, and he went oat to put a stop to their Sab- hath breaking. Assuming a grave ' countenance, he said to them, ", Boys, do you remember what day it is?" " Yes, sir," immediately replied one of the boys, " Deacon Day, the cooper," CURRENT JAM— A FRIEf'DLY SQUEEZE, — turn her' round, there's niv poor dear little husband squeezed up between it and the barge, and he's almost as flat as a pancake ! Help ! help ! for God's si, ke !— oh, dear! if lie is killed, what will become of me his unfor, l'nate widrter, and bis sixteen little ' mis ?" Mrs. E'iphemia Meadows protested against anv such settlement as that. She readily admitted having " Mown Mr. Robinson up a bit," and she thought heriihly de- served it; for he d d her and tier petticoat to-,, io the most notoriousest wav imaginable:—" I shouldn't have minded his d g me." she added. '' because it couldn't hurt me, but I thought it extremely or genteel in him to d n my petticoat." The magistrate ordered th- st Mr. Rohinsnn should pay the value of the petticoat, with fitll costs of suit. HUMOURS CF A FREE NIGHT. The first house that opened for the season was Craw- ford's ( at Dublin): and he was obliged to commence with a " free night,'' by virtue of his patent. ( The house was, of course, crammed in a few minutes.) The play- was " Douglas ;" and on this occasion all the principals of the theatre were exempted from dufv. and the charac- ters were allotted to understrappers. That ofGlenalvon fell into the hands of a little black- browed, bandy legged fellow, by the name of Barret, well known throughout Dublin for his private particularities, and possessing at all times a great circle of acquaintance in Mount Olympus. The Irish people have great sym- pathy and enthusiasm : and notwithstanding their per- sonal inconvenience and ihe caricamre daubings of Ihe heautiesof Home ( ibe actois appearing to be all abroad when they were al home) then and there exhibited, they saw and heard the whole with profound attention. Barret's entrance was the signal for an uproar; but it was of a permissible order. He was dressed in an entire suit of black, with a black wig, and a black velvet hat crowned with an immense plume of black feathers, which bended before him. gave him very much the aspect of a mourning coach horse. Barret had some vanity and some judgment; he was fond of applause, and determined ( to use his own phrase) to have a belly- full. He accordingly came oil left hand upper en- trance, and cutting the boards at a right angle, paced down to the stage- door right hand, then wheeled sharp LIFE OF JOHN BRADSHAW. This Regicide, according to Lord Clarendon, was de- scended of an ancient family in Cheshire and Lancashire, but was born himself in Cheshire, as Heather regularly remarks, hateful to his country, more almmiuable to his name, and most odious to his nation. His patrimony was very small; but he did not want for parts; which sup- ported by impudence, insolence, and ambition, acquired liiin a superior fortune in the practice of the law, in which lie was brought up in Gray's Inn, where he was much fre- quented by the factious, and was more admired in liis chambers than al Westminster- Hall. Two terms before the perpetration of the king's murder, this Chamber- Coui- cil took the oath of allegiance, being called to the dignity of a Sergeant at Law by the powers then iu being, to prepare him for that detestable office, for which he was thought to he the best qualified. When he was first no- minated to be President of the pretended Court of Jus- tice, for trying King Charles the First, he appeared much surprised, anil resolutely refused it. But, when he was piessed with more importunity than could have been used by chance, be required time io consider it, and said, he would then give his final answer, which lie did on the fol- lowing day, and with much counterfeit humility accepted the office," which he administered with all the ptVe, im- pudence, and consummate hypocrisy imaginable. He was quickly invested in great state ; a guard was assigned for the security of his person, being now declared President of the Council of State; and, for his better maintaining the part of such a high dignity, his creators gave him Lord Cottington's estate, and the Duchy of Lancaster, and £ 5000 in money, to supply the present exigencies : ana made him a present of the Dean's house at Westminster for ever, for his i esidence and habitation. All things thus disposed, the King was brought before the pretended High Court, on a chargeof high treason, and other crimes — which, being read, Bradshaw behaved in a most arbi- trary and insolent manner towards bis Majesty, who would not for any menaces, acknowledge any authority iu that Court to call him into judgment, and concluded with " Sir, your sins are of so large a dimension, that, if you do but seriously think of them, they will drive you to a sad consideration, thev mav improve in you a sad and se- rious repentance. And the Court doth heartily wisli that vou may be so penitent for what you - have done amiss, that God may have mercy at least on your better part.— Truly, Sir, for the other it is our parts and duties to do that which the law prescribes. We cannot be unmindful of what the scripture tells us ; for to ' acquit the guilty is of equal abomination as tn condemn the innocent; we may not acquit the guilty.' What sentence the law affirms to a traitor, tvrant, and murderer, and a , iublic enemy to the country, that sentence you are now to hear read to you, and that is the sentence of the Court." Pursuaut to which his majesty was put to death, Bradshaw being the first that signed the warrant for his beheading on the 30th of January, 1548- 9. After this, Bradshaw was em- ployed in the trial of the Duke of Hamilton, the Earl of Holland, the Earl of Norwich, Loid Capel, and Sir John Owen, against whom he likewise pronounced sentence of death. And in uli his actions he proved himself to be the most flagitious of the long robe, and the most active in the destruction of monarchy in this nation ; but had the good fortune to escape corporeal punishment; for be died a natural death in 1659, as it is supposed with grief at the prospect of an approaching restoration. However, his body, by order of parliament, with some others, bis ac- complices, at Tyburn, were thrown under the gallows.— And thus ended the worldly career of this despicable man. SHERIDAN'S FUNERAL.— Mr. Moore has omitted one of the most touching and heart- stirring anecdotes connected with the funeral of Sheridan. The noble and select com- pany bad assembled to pav the last tribute of respect to departed genius, and the coffin was about to be placed in the hearse, when an elderly- dressed personage, who pre- tended to be distantly related to the deceased, entered the chamber of death. At his urgent entreaties to view th e face of his friend, the coffin lid was unscrewed ; and, < o the horror and surprise of the by stauders, he pulled out a warrant, and arrested the body! Mr. Canning aud Lord Sid mo nth went into an adjoining room, and paid the debt, which ( it is said) amounted to 5001. econd son, and his " darling pride." At the end of nine ears he was discharged, in this country, wiihout a pen- ion, or a friend in the world ; aud coming to London, te, with some trouble, got emplojed as a paviour, bv ' the gentlemen who manage tiie streets at Mary la- lomie." " Two years ago, your honour," he continued, ' my poor wife was wearied " out with the wot Id, and she Iceeased from me, and I was left alone with the children ; nil every night after I had done work I washed their aces, and nut ilieui to bed, and washed their little bits o' lungs, and Hanged them o' the line to dry, myself— for ' d no money, your honour, and so I could not have a lousekeeper to do for them, you know. But, your ho- lour, I was as happy as I w'eil could he, considering my yife was deceased Irom nie, till some had people came to ive at the back of us ; and they were always striving to ; e_ t Henry amongst them, and 1 was terribly afraid some- liing bad would come of it, as it was biit poorly I could lo for him ; and so I'd made up my iniiurw take all my : hildren to Ireland.— If be bad only held up another week, •" iir honour, we should have gone, and he would have leeu saved. But now ! " Here the poor man looked at his hoy again, and wept; ind when tlie magistrate endeavoured to console him l> y • bsor vini; that his sou would sail tor Botany Bay. aud irohahly do well there; he replied, somewhat impatiently, —" Ave, it's fine talking, your worship ; 1 pray to the treat God he may never sail any where, unless he sails vitli me tn belaud !" and then, after a moment's thought, le asked, in the humblest tone imaginable, " Doesn't four honour think a little bit of a petition might help rim ?" The magistrate replied it possibly might; and added, ' If you attend his trial at. the Old Bailey, and plead for lim as eloquently in ( void and action as vou have done oere, I think it would help him still more." " Aye, but then you won't be there, I suppose, will pou?" asked the poor fellow, with that familiarity which s in some degree sanctioned by extreme distress ; and ivlieu his worship replied that he certainly should not he present, he immediately rejoined, " Then— what's the use of it ? There will be nobody there who knows me; - tod what strangers will listen to a poor old broken- hearted fellow, who can't speak for crying?" The prisoners were now removed froin the bar to he : onducted to prison, and his son, who had wept inces- santly all the time, called wildly to him, " Father! fa- ther '." as if he expected that his father could snatch him nut of the iron grasp of the law. But ihe old man re- mained rivettcd, as it. were, to the spot on which he stood, with his eyes fixed ou the lad until the door had closed upon him ; and then putting on his hat, uncon- scious where be was, and crushing it down over his brows, he began wandering round the room in a state of stupor. The officers in waiting reminded him that he should not wear his hat iu the presence of the magistrate, and he in- stantly removed it; hut he still seemed lost to everything around him, and, though one or two geutlemen present put money into his hands, he heeded it not, but slowly sauntered out of the office, apparently reckless of every thing. MARYLEBONE. This was a proceeding under the Pawnbrokers' act, by which Mrs. Eupheuiia Meadows sought to lecover a com"-, pensatiou iu damages for the loss of certain property pledged with a Mr. Robinson. Mrs. Euphemia Meadows is a bouncing buxom belle, of five and- thirty or thereabouts, who, having occasion to raise the sum of eighteen pence on some sudden emer- gency, was fain to carry her best black bombasine petti- coat— or bum- be.- seen petticoat, as she called it— to Mr. Robinson, a diminutive elder, who gathereth profit unto himself daily, by lending to ihe poor; in common pur- l- once, a pawnbroker ; or, poetically speaking, " My Uncle." This Mr. Robinson received the petticoat ij held it up to the light; observed that " it might well be called a bum- be- seen petticoat, for the moths had riddled it sadly;" and finally, he lent the money required; hut when she applied to redeem the petticoat, he told her it. was lost, and refused to make her any compensation for it. Mr. Robinson, in his defence, admitted having received the petticoat, and also having lost it; hut In- declared Mrs. Eupheuiia Meadows had deluged iiiin with abominable abuse; aud he humbly submitted that the said abuse ought to go as a set- otl against the lost petticoat. BOW- STREET. AT A STAND- STILL.— Henry Summers, a cab- driver, commonly called Shshaway Harry, was charged by an officer of the Society for ihe Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, with having cruelly treated his horse, by flog- ging him in various parfs of the body, causing him to rear and prance, much to the danger of the lives of HER Majesty's liege subjects. Defendant, who was a diminutive samole of mortality, with a month resembling a half- opened oyster, and a pair of eyes, each of which seemed looking round two distinct corners for a fare, was called upon to answer the charge. Defendant— Lor'luv yer vuship, this here gemtnan has stated vot is kevite unpossibel, for how ran a hnni- mal rear vot hasn't had a run in him these here ten years ? Magistrate— Then yon mean to say that Ihe horse is very old ? Defendant— Tn course I dus, yer vuship. Yer see that here preshus hanimal is my own property, an lie is vol I may call a family relish. Magistrate— A family reliqtie, I presume you mean ? Defendant— Yes, yer vuiLip. tW* it! My < Vl, e- r had it eighteen year, and he couldn't obtain any wery correct register on bis birth vhen lie purchased him. As for vholloping him, vhy that's all stuff,' cause neither vhippinjj nor anything else could put a run into him; an' lie is vun o' th' perwersest warmint as ever lived. He'll do nuffin vithout a great deal o' persuasion, an' 1 th greatest speed I have ever known him ' coinplish vos a mile an' three quarters in vun " hour and ten minils. all' ihen he vos knocked up for two or three ( lays arter- varils. He's wery fond o' th' stand, indeed I'may say he's alvus on the stand! Magistrate— Are you not ashamed to bring such a poor old animal out ? Defendant— Lor' bless yer, no sir, I dus it out o' charity, cos if I vosn't to ti'ike him out he'd fret himself to death in no time. But lor' you ' ou'd be surprised, yer yiisliip, io see bow lively lie is vhen 1 cries out " Vo!" Magistrate— Then you mean to say that the poor ani- mal's greatest joy is woe/ The defendant with a broad grin, like a convulsed flog, replied in the affirmative, and tlie charge having been proved, he was fined ten shillings with a caution. HATTON CARDEN. Miss Whilelmina Martin was charged by an Irish policeman with infesting his bate in a state of hastely drunkenness. " It was King- street, your honour, that same I'm now speaking about," thundered Teddy O'Reilly, " and she wouldn't coine out of it any how, hecase the beer had got the best of her, an' she couldn't, your honour; an' so 1 gathered her up. with her silks an' satins, an' put em altogether in the station- house, your honour." " Did she abuse you ?" asked his worship. " Fait, an' she hadn't sence enough for that, your honour!" replied the strong- lunged Teddy. Miss Whilelmina's " silks and satins" gave manifest proof that she had not been able to keep her feet; and, as she had nothing but tears to offer in her defence, she was adjudged to be drunken and disorderly, and ordered to find surities for her better behaviour in future. QUEEN'S SQUARE. Thomas Anderson, a lad, only thirteen years old, and Richard Martin, aged seventeen, were fully committed for trial, charged with stealing a silver tea- pot from the house of a gentleman, iii Grosvenor- place. There was nothing extraordinary in the circumstances of the rob- bery— Young Anderson was observed to go down into lheareaofthehou. se, whilst his companion kept watch, and they were caught endeavouring to conceal the tea- pot under some rubbish in the Five- fields, Chelsea; but the case was made peculiarly interesting by the unsophisti- cated distress of Anderson's father. The poor old man, who it seems had been a soldier, and was at this time a journeyman paviour, refused at first to believe that his son had committed the crime im- puted to him, and was very clamorous. against the wit- nesses; but as their evidence proceeded, he himself ap- peared to become gradually convinced. He listened with intense anxiety to the various details; and when iliey were finished, he fixed his eyes in silence, for a second or two, upon his son, and turning to the magistrate, with his eyes swimming iu tears, he exclaimed—" 1 have carried him many a scote uiiles ou my knapsack, your honour !'" There was something so deeply pathetic in the tone with which this fond reminiscence was uttered by the old sol- dier, that every person present, even the very gaoler him- self, was affected by it. 14 I liaie carried him many score uiiles on my knapsack, vour honour," repeated the poor fellow, whilst lie brushed away the tears from his cheek with his rough unwashed hand, " but it's all over now ! — He has done— and— So have I !" The magistrate asked him something of bis story. He said he had formerly driven a stage- coach, in the north of Ireland, and had a small share in the proprietorship of the coach. In this time o) his prosperity he married a young woman with a little property, but he failed in busi- ness, and, after enduring many troubles, he enlisted as a private soldier in the 18th, or Royal Irish Regiment of Font, and weut ou foreign service, taking with him bis wife aud four children— Henry ( the prisoner) being his , S- U N- D • A - Y '. T IMES, AND PEOPL_ l— ilE' S ---- P-^ O•^ MLMICMEM jMG^ A. MZMEIlT TE GONDIBERT. A TALE OV TIIE MIDDLE AGES* The night was dark and cold ; the wind whistled through the branches of the forest trees, with a hollow moaning sound Ihe chafed waters of Ihe mountain- r a, swelled by rer'nt Hoods, rushed with luiaVse . nurmurs over impeding jocks, increasing the dissonance « of ihe rising siorm. The romantic vaileys of the Oden- wald, so lately ringing with sweet sounds, and purple with the treasures of the vintage, were already desolated fay an inclement autumn; the milk- maid's song no longer resounded over the green hills, and the shep- herd's pipe was mule; the peasants had wilhdrawn to their cottages, and the cattle to their sheds; yet the harvest moon was now upon the wane, and the vil- lagers had promised themselves many eveniHgsofenjoy- ment under the green- wood shade, ere the trees should lose their rich foiiagc. Well acquainted with every path, though fatigued with the toils of the day, young Gondibert of Ilelmenstadt journeyed alone through the narrow paths of the pine- forest. Hiscompanions, weary of the chase, had quitted it ataneirly hour; but he, being enthusiastic in his favourite puisuit, had followed the sport until the shades of evening had overtaken him, and he had now a considerable distance to tra- verse before he could reach his home. In the intervals of the gusts of wind, which broke down branches and whirled clouds of fallen leaves around him, he could distinguish the hoarse bay of the ban- dog in the distant hamlet, and the long howl of the wolf as he prowled in th< i thicket! whilst the bat flapped her leathern wings in his face, and the owl swept him as she shrieked in his ear. The scene was awful and melancholy : yet vioudibert, bred in the wilds, and loving nature in all her varieties, found charms ill the savage and cheer- less night, even as he contrasted it with the sweet serenity which had so lately rendered the woody laby- rinth a bovver of bliss, when the summer gale, soft and genial, sighed its warm breath over banks and beds of flowers; when the moon- beams played idly amidst the aspen leaves ; when the limes wept incense, and the • gentle bird of night ' tuned her sad heart to music." He journeyed onwards; before him was spread the Felsenmeer, or sea of rocks, a fantastic tract, irre lurly piled with huge masses of granite, like the bil • lows of a stormy ocean; a dark forest of pines, intri t'ate and umbrageous as that which he had just quitted stretched beyond it. After passing these, he had only to cross a romantic valley, and pursue the upland path which led to the venerable towers of Helmeustadt The rnurkiness ofthe night retarded his progress: bu he at length approached his own home : the moon was then up, and threw a strong yet partial light upon the surrounding objects, as she appeared and " disappeared through the drilling clouds. He cast his eyes over ihe valley, and fixed them in admiration on the ruins of castellated mansion overgrow n with ivy, now brilliantly illuminated by the resplendent planet, while the rest of the landscape was buried in profound glooin. Slid denly stopping to rest his wearied limbs, he perceive that he was not the sole tenant of the solitude, nor tile owl and the wolf the only living companions of his pil grnc. Dge— busy spirits were abroad. Issuing from the arched portal of the castle, a crowd of tall figures, en veloped in sable drapery, spread themselves like black column ou tile green sward. He was staggere at the unexpected sight. The crowd every moment increased, until the multitude was so great, that lie was convinced that it could not be the mere assemblage of the inhabitants of the scattered houses, which con tabled all ( he population ofa region tenanted Uy a fe peasants and their lords. For an instant ho fancied ( hat the earth had yielded up its dead, and that the forms which flitted before his eyes were unsubstantial shadows— the restless and unquiet denizens of the tomb : bnl this idea was dispelled by a low hum of voicm, which, though merely the sound of faint whis- pers, yet sufficiently proved tliera to be living. A dagger's hilt here and there glittered i| i the moon- beams; but, as ( lie majority apparently, were not arwitsd with any other weapon, they more nearly resem- bled sorcerers convoked to perform some hideous mystery, unfit to meet the eye of day, than a band of outlaws meditating a desperate assault. Determined to know the reason of ( his extraordinary assemblage, whatever it might be, yet nnwilling to put himself into the power of strangers ere he was ac- quainted with tjie purpose of ( heir myslerious convoca- tion, Gondibert put in practice those arts which his skill as a hunter had rendered easy, and stole along ihe ground so cautiously, that aided by the fluctuating light, and Ihe deep sobbing of the wind, as it alter- nately rose and fell, he gained a tower of the castle, wmt securely lodged amidst the ivy, had an opportu- nity ol" viewing the midnight confederacy. All whom he vol! Ill discern were clnd alike in black cloaks, with ihe linods drawn over their heads; and, after standing for a few minutes in a promiscuous group, they suddenly and silently fell into a circle, and made a ring of five or six deep, whilst a select number, not exceeding five pt rsons, occupied the centre. A thrill of horror shot like an ice- boll through his heart, when he found him- self a spectator of that dreadful tribunal, whose very existence was only suspected, and not generally khown in Ihe circles of - the Rhine, of which the Odeuwald formed a part. Certain tokens and signals passed, un derstood only by tile initiated, by which the judges ascertained the presence of the whole number lhat composed the Frei Gericht. The proceedings then commenced, and one of the disguised knights, in a deep and piercing voice, ex- claimed, * 1 accuse Pharamond, Count ot* landau, of murder ; the bones of his victim whiten on the summit of the Feldsberg, an eye unknown witnessed the deed, and I call for vengeance upon tile assassin.'—' Hath he been summoned to attend ?' inquired one of the five.—' Thrice,' rdurned ( lie accuser.— 4 Cite him again,' said the judge, ' in ( lie usual form; and we will then pronounce his doom, acquittal or condemna- tion, according to tiie laws which we have sworn to observe. 1 Gondibert's blood curdled; he could not believe in the guilt of his friend and neighbour. Con- vinced that, if Ihe individual whose body was disco- vered oil the Feldsberg had fallen by ( he count's hand, he had slain him ill self- defence, he was oil the point of challenging the accuser to the proof; but recol leclin that he could only assert an unsupported opinion, he restrained himself, ill the hope of being more service able by warning the count of the dangers with which lie was beset. ThreeTimes ( he name of Pharamond was uttered by One of the assembly, and no answer being made, the dreadful sentence of excommunication was prontninced. All Ihe knights present were armed with authority to become the executioners of the con- demned, and bound by oath to the performance of ihe inhuman office, even though be might be their nearest kinsman or their dearesl friend. The fraternity now entered upon the discussion of some point of importance; but, though earnestly en- gaged in controversy, they spoke in so low a tone, that Gondibert was unable to learn ( he subject of debate. He meditated a retreat, for tiie purpose " of proceeding instantaneously to Lindau; but a movement in the dense crowd arrested his design, and he kept his station. A circle was again foimed, many of ( lie outer ring even leaning against the wall of the ( ower whose overhanging ivy concealed him from view. A second ( ime a figure stepped forward into the open space, wrapped in those* mysterious weeds, which were so well adapted for disguise that no person could identify his most intimate acquaintance. This knight, when he had advanced a few paces, stopped, and then deliber- ately uttered the following words : ' 1 denounce Gon- dibert of Helmenstadt.' ' What is his crime ?' inquired the judge. ' Heresy,' replied the former speaker. Gondibi rt stayed not for more; but, rushing from his place of concealment, and leaping with the careless dating ofa mountaineer from the battlement over the heads of those who were immediately below liiin, In alighted iu the circle, exclaiming, • I deny, I repel [ lie base and infamous accusation, and challenge you here in the presence of this dread tribunal, ( o prove Ihe ruth of your foul assertion." A confused sound ran through the assembly at Ibis bold interruption ofits pro- fi dings The moon was now unclouded, and fully displayed ihe form of Gondibert, clad in his hunter's garb, and bare- headed, for his cap had fallen from him in his descent. A word from the principal silenced the murmur which rose on all sides; and the multitude being hushed into deep and mute attention, the judge inquired how it happened lhat he had dared to ap- proach the secret meeting of the Free Knights, without being summoned to attend. He replied that his pre- sence waB accidental, but that he could not tamely j hear himself accused of a crime which he had not com- mitted. ' That Will be proved hereafter,' returhed the judge.—' I desire,' said Gondibert, ' to know the name of iny enemy.'—' Beware hsw you confound Ihe terms,' said ( he same voice;—' an accuser is not ne- cessarily an enemy.'—' 1 am innocent of the charge,' exclaimed the indignant youth, ' and none but a foe would thus have aimed against my fame and life. If you be natives of the OdenWald, or its neighbouring districts, you all knoW me— Gondibert of Helmenstadt! ray actions have been open, my faith proclaimed at the altar, and demonstrated by Ihe tenor of my life. Come forward then, ye who have aught against me, and I will answer all; nor be you dumb, you who can witness how false and malignant is ( he imputation under which I stand !' Throwing his glove on the ground, he con tinned, ' Here is my gage : I am ready to defend my just cause with my sword; let the man who steals in darkness cunningly to effect my ruin, strive lo over- throw me in the face of day.'—' Fall back,' said the uclge; our laws do not allow trial by combat, nor is the accuser btiuml to proclaim himself, and thus incur the vengeance of the accused. II any present are pre- pared to substantiate the charge against Gondibert uf Helmenstadt, let Ihem come forward and avow Iheir purpose; and should the steady adherence ofthe ar- raigned person to our holy church be known ( o any amongst you, I adjure you by your oaths to speak in his defence.' Two persons now advanced and conferred for a few minutes with the judges. Gondibert fixed his eyes with an intense gaze upon them ; for, in tile confusion occasioned by his sudden appearance, his accuser had withdrawn into the circle, and he knew not whether he had not now returned tore- urge the malicious false- hood which his tongue had so lately uttered. While he remained in anxious suspense respecting the nature of the fresh communication, the knights mingled again in Ihe crowd, without betraying a single Irait by which Goudibert could distinguish them from their colleagues, and, after a moment's pause, one of ( he. judges address- ed him in ( hese words : * The zeal of our brother in the prosecution of those who offend against the doctrines of the holy fathers of our church, however laudable, appears in this instance to have been misplaced. You are free. Acquitted by Ihe testimony of just and up- right men, take the accustomed oaths, and go in peace.' Several of the knights now surrounded Gondibert; but, just as they were about to require him to swear inviolable secrecy with regard to all the transactions which he had witnessed lhat night, the storm which hud so lont; been gathering, burst upon the heads of the as- sembly ; the sky was so suddenly darkened, that in an instant every object was involved in the deepest obscurity; whilst the thunder rolled with such tre- mendous force, above and around ( hem, peal suc- ceeding peal, and each more awful than the last, that the dismayed fraternity sought shelter beneath the rocky fragments of the castle. Gondibert then stole awayt unfettered by any vow which would have bound him to keep his friend in ignorance of ihe dan- gers which threatened to overwhelm him. The young hunter reached his home with a weight upon his heart; a few hours had made a dreadful inroad on his happi- ness. Narrowly escaping wilh his life, i( was nol ( he mere danger in which he had been placed that affected him; be had often hazarded his existence for a trifle, and every day exposed his person to the terrors of Ihe precipice or the flood : it was the cause, the conscious- ness that he was beset by treachery, not only liable to the accidents of the field, but surrounded by enemies who thirsted for his blood. In vain did he exhaust his imagination in seeking to fix upon his secret enemy; he knew of none whom he had injured ; and, as he numbered over his relatives and acquaintance, his af fectionate and trusting heart could nut endure to brand one of those apparently faithful friends with ( he stigma of a traitor. As he approached the towers of Helmen- stadt, he perceived that a lamp was burning in one of Ihe turrets. ' It is the chamber of Ismengarde,' he mentally exclaimed, ' my betrothed bride : she is aware of my absence, and is watching for my return.' His first impulse was to make his arrival known to the fair object of his love; but, univilling'to divulge the secrets of a dreadful tribunal which was so jealous of its assumed rights, lie would no! trust himself' lo the in- quiries of an anxious female, and repaired to his own apartment for rest and refreshment. After the lapse of a few hours, he again quilted his castle, and taking the most private paths, bent his steps toward Lindan ; but, instead of seeking his friend as usual in his own hall, he stood silent and dejected behind a tree which overlooked the portal, waiting for an opportunity to speak with him. Soon after he had taken thisstation, Pharamond appeared wilh his hawk upon his wrist, and, passing into the wood where Gondibert lay in ambush, he stepped forward and addressed him. Thtiugh not bound by that tremendous oath, which ii is llic custom of Ihe Free Knights to exact from all who are summoned, and who appear before them, the awe which they inspired was sufficient to deter him fr uu communicating the mysteries which they so care- fully concealed; and he contented himself wilh giving that warning, which was universally understood even by those who were not assured of the existence of a tribunal, whose operations were performed in the dark- ness of ( he night and ( he secrecy of ( he nios( profound solitudes. Ere Pharamond could demand the cause which had paled the countenance and dimmed the eye ofhis friend, Gondibert said in a low and solemn tone, ' ( lie water is us clear, and the bread is as good in Other countries as in this.' The words were simple, ( he truth evident; but Pharamond's whole frame trembled at the sound. He wrung the hand of Gondibert si- lently ; he knew that he had warned him of the ban under which he lay, and he retired with speed to his castle to prepare for immediate flight fro, m Ihe thousand executioners, ready to stab him to the heart under the pretended sanction of justice. Gundibert sought hi own home, trusting that the smiles of Ismengarde would banish the melancholy that oppressed him : but he found her changed; a sullen gloom clouded her brow; she called her maidens around her, and asked hiih why he did not rather pursue his wonted amusement of the chase, than seek the company of women too simple to be worthy of his notice. The young hunter became mute with astonishment. Was she jealous, and piqued at bis neglect? Had lie, in the seem ily of his betroth- ment, omitted to pay her that blind and devoted ho- mage, which beauty delights to receive, or did she now only betray the aversion which she had long cherished for one whom, by the command of her parents, she had been, early taught to look upon as her destined hus- band? These thoughts, coupled with the occurrences of the past night, engendered a gloomy suspicion in his mind. He left her chamber abruptly, determined to watch her conduct with a cautious eye ; and, passing through the adjoining corridor, he met his kinsman Alaric evidently approaching the bower which he had just quitted. At any other time ( hiscircumstance would have passed unnoticed ; but now every trifling incident infused strange thoughts into his mind. Alaric seemed lo be surprised at the rencontre, hut speedily assuming ail air of indifference, asked him in a jocular tone how it happened that he was not out wilh his hawk and hounds. Gondibert checked the rising emotion in his heart, stayed ( he hand ready lo grasp the suspected bailor by the throat) and, afiei a short an, wer, hurried to bis chamber to ruminate upon the past, and study how to meet a futuie attack- That his enemies were cowardly was proved by their endeavours to cut hiin off, under the pretence of his violation of the faws so rigoiously enforced against heresy; and he suspected that the accusation of Pharamond, of whose innocence of the crime laid to his charge lie entertained no doubt, was connected with " his owo. His feelings became tumultuous, as he reflected on the deep conspiracy formed to deprive him of his life and honour; and he rushed into Ihe woods to breathe a freer air. While he was wandering at random he knew not whither an ai row whistled over his head, and dropped a few yards before him t the bow was bent by a friendly hand, for on a scroll attached to the shaft were penned these words: ' Beware! A friendly admonition given to the lady Ismengarde, is the only cause which the writer can assign for an event which has rendered him a wanderer ind an exile. Conscious guilt has advised a remedy to silence a tongue which might babble what the eye has witnessed ; yet did the honest heart which dictated the caution refuse to put the worst construction upon the act which produced it. Delay your marriage until you know lhat you have not a rival too near your title and your wealth to prove a safe competitor.' The billet doubtless came from Pharnmond, and Gondibert was prepared to give implicit credit to its contents. Determined to repel art by aft, he dressed his brow in smiles, summoned his falcon to attend him, and after an hour's sport returned lo the castle, and cheerfully sat down to supper with his kindred and de- pendents. He asked repeatedly for wine, and seemed only beat upon the indulgence of convivial pleasure ; but when at length, by the suggestion of Alaric, the party broke up for ( he night, instead of withdrawing to his couch, be commanded two ofhis most trusty domes- tics to attend hiin, and moving silently round the castle walls to a secret stair, known only to himself, which led to the toWer of Ismengarde, and communi- cated by a sliding panel to the anti- room of her cham- ber. They had nut long been [ stationed on this spot, when a gentle knock at Ihe portal announced the ap- proach of Alaric. He immediately entered ; and a few minutes sufficed to show that ( he confederates were employed in devising new plots to encircle their pro- mised victim. Gondibert, no longer able to stifie his just resentment, rushed sword in hand upon the guilty pair ; but, refusing to stain his hand with the blood of his kinsman, lie merely ordered him to be secured. Ismengarde was compelled to take the vows in a neighbouring convent; Alaric wasted his existence in dreary imprisonment. Their punishment was just and their sentence merciful ; yet the lord of Helmensladt never from lhat hour enjoyed the sweet serenity ofa heart at ease. The ingratitude and treachery which he bad experienced, rendered him distrustful; he formed no new attachments, lie placed no confidence in his fellow creatures; and, though his life was preserved, his peace was destroyed. TO CORRESPONDENTS. THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES PRESENT! With this week's number of our publication, every pur- chaser will be PRESENTED GRATUITOUSLY with THE FIRST NUMBER OF AN ENTIRE NEW ROMANCE OF DEEP INTEREST, intended to be continued in weekly num- bers, at One Penny, and monthly parts, Price Fourpence, called THE HEBREW MAIDEN; OR, THE LOST DIA- MOND," by the Author of " FATHERLESS FANNY; OR, THE MYSTERIOUS ORPHAN." This handsome present wilt be folded in an elegant wrapper, and embellished with three superb engravings, and has cost the Proprieties no less a sum than Two HUNDRED POUNDS !— As a limited number only wilt be printed, the public are requested to apply to their booksellers early. We cannot help taking the present opportunity of expressing our gratitude for the unprecedented support that this publication has received from its commencement, and we are determined that it shall continue to be what it is noio universally acknow- ledged, viz., THE CHEAPEST, AND THE BEST FAMILY PAPER PUBLISHED. The Proprietors of " THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES," have the pleasure lo announce to their numerous Readers, that they have succeeded in making arrange ments wilh the popular Author of '• ELA, THE OUTCAST; OR, THE GIPSY GIRL OF ROSEMARY DELL,'' " ANGELINA," " GALLANT TOM," & C., & c., for the production of another Original Romance, of a peculiar construction, striking incidents, hair- breadth escapes, and startling effects, of the first appearance of which, due notice wilt be given. We have unfortunately this week mislaid a large bundle of letters, and must therefore, request any of our corres- pondents who do not find their communications answered, to forward us another copy. We are extremely sorry that the answers to the Charades, by W. V. MORGAN, ( Thornbury, Gloucestershire), arrived too late, we having already published solutions to the same. We should, however, be most happy to hear from him again. " CLAUDIUS PVE" is requested to receive our best thanks. R. C. is inadmissible. We are much obliged lo MR. THOMPSON, and trust he will continue to correspond with us. We feel great pleasure in hearing from MR. LAMBE, whose favours we have experienc ed on a former occa- sion, and we hope he will continue, at his convenience, to embellish the columns of THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES with some ofhis clever productions. T. M. L. will perceive that we could not avail ourselves of his effusion, but we thank him. D. II.— MR. PREST'S '' MERRY SONGS FOR MERRY MOMENTS," are the sole property of the Proprietors of THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, and cannot be published with the music, without the permission of them, or the author. C. L. M.— We should feel great pleasure in so doing. We are much obliged to MR. COLLINQWOOD, and will make good use of the book forwarded to us by him. J. SMITH.— We should be. very hap]> p to receive the books and will take especial care of them, and return them when done with. L. B. is accepted. We regret that we cannot yet comply with his first request, but the present he will receive with this number. We can only insert the first answer of W. J, HUDSON, ( Newcastle- upon- Tyne), as the solution to the other charade has appeared. R. S. M., ( Dublin), is accepted. IFe have recewd no less than thirty answers to the charade " SERPENTINE," we are m eh obliged to the authors, and regret that we could only make use of one. tVe. are now completely inundated with charades, and must therefore claim the same indulgence as we have of our poetical friends. Received-. A. A. L„ " ALEXANDER," " ZERO," L. B., and W. WOODBURY. All communications to be addressed ( post paid) to the Kditor of THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, 30, Curtain Road, Shoreditch. s THE PENNY PEOPLE'S AND POLICE GAZETTE. We cannot help expressing the gratification we feel, in being so fortunate as to hi( l" e public taste in every- thing we do. Since the commencement of this publi- cation., we have received ihe inos( flattering enco- miums, and censure has never in one instance assailed us; this certainly is enough to render us egotistical, but we assure our readers, lhat while it certainly tic kles our vanity, ( for to deny that we have not a portion of that commodity ill our composilion, would he to deny the existence of that which is inherent in all human being in a smaller or larger degree), it stimulates us to fresh exertions to provide fare for their intellectual enjoy- ment, and we are happy to say that our resources are at present almost inexhaustible, and every week adds something choice to our store. The great satisfaction our last leader has given to our readers, induces us this week to publish the biogra- phy of a hero, more celebrated than ( he individual whose memoirs embellished ( he columns of our last week's number, y'clept the renowned and ill fated Sir Walter Raleigh. Such articles as ( his render.^ period- ical, such as ( he P. S. T., extremely valuable as a book of reference, and vve are confident our readers will duly appreciate our miAives for presenting it to tliein. SIR WALTER RALEIGH. Sir Walter Raleigh, a man, in point of bravery and ability, of learning and judgment, inferior lo none of Ihe age in which he lived, and superior to most, was born at Hayes, in the parish of Budley, near Devon- shire, in the year 1552. In 1580 he was dispatched, under Lord Grey, to quell the rebellion in Ireland, where he behaved with such bravery as to introduce him to ( he court and favour of Elizabeth. In 1584 he sailed from England under the auspices of the queen, towards America, and discovered Vir- ginia x ou liis return he was knighted in honour of this success. In 1586 Sir Waller fitted out a ship, at his sole ex- pense, to sail for Virginia: it arrived there safe; and returned to England, bringing with it, for the first time, the Nicotauia, or Ti bacco- Raleigh was very fond of smoking this herb ; and we are told in the British Apollo, l2mo, 1740, that when he first grew fond of a pipe, bis servant one day brought his tankard of ale and nuimeg into his study, wheie Raleigh was reading and smoking. Seeing the smoke reek from his mouth, the man threw down the ale in a fright, and ran down stairs to alarm the family,, crying his master was on fire, and would be burned to ashes if they did not make haste to his assistance. In 1588 he joined the fleet against the armada ; and in this year he was chosen one. of the gentlemen of her Majesty's privy chamber, and had a patent granted him to mate licenses for keeping of taverns and retail- ing of wines, throughout all England. We next find Raleigh engaged in the memorable action at Cadiz, in 1596, commanding the Warspite, and hoisting the ensign of Rear Admiral of the Fleet. In this action he behaved with the most heroic bravery, but gi't wounded severely in his leg; and after demo- lishing the forts, and setting fire to the city, he re- em- barked ou the 5th of July, and arrived in safety at Ply- mouth, by the 10th of August, and was graciously received by the queen. On ( he 26th of August, 1600, he was made Governor of Jersey. On the death of Elizabeth, Raleigh's fortunes sank to rise no more. Cecil prejudiced James against Ra- leigh, and he soon found himself neglected: his offices were given to Scotch favourites of the king ; he was deprived of his wine license; but a pension of .£ 300 was granted him for his life. Scarcely had three mouths of the reign of this James elapsed before Cohham ac- cused Raleigh of being privy to his plan wilh the Count Aremberg, whereupon he was committed lo the Tower, lie was shortly after indicted for high treason ; and as the plague raged in London, he was taken to Winches- ter, and there tried on Ihe 17lh of November, 1603, was found guilty, and received the sentence lo be hung, drawn, and quartered. The king and his government finding the people be- held the villainous conspiracy against Raleigh in its true light, were fearful of executing him ; and he was therefore reprieved during his Majesty's pleasure, and again sent to the Tower. The king had neither virtue nor justice enough to release him ; and his son. Prince Henry, the darling of the people, said, " No king but his father would keep such a lord in such a rage." At length, on the 17th of March, 1615- 16, after a cruel imprisonment of more Ulan twelve years, he ob tained his liberty by bribery, and a change of James' favourites. No sooner was he released than he began to prose- cute another voyage to Guiana, and, accordingly on the 28th of March, 1617, he sailed from the Thames with a pretty considerable fleet. This fatal voy age brought on him the vengeance of Gondainor, the Spanish ambassador, ( hen in England crafly, designing statesman, who so completely gained the ascendancy of weak James, that, upon hearing the result of Ihe unfortunate expedition, he save proof his devotion to the Spanish interest, by issuing a pro- clamation, declaring his detestation of ihe . conduct of the expedition, and requiring all persons who could give any information, to repair to the privy council. Raleigh, on seeing this proclamation when he landed at Plymouth, immediately surrendered himself; he af- terwards meditated his escape, in the act of making which, in disguise, he was betrayed by Stukely, and ap prehended while in a boat at Woolwich, and re- com- mitted to the Tower on the 10th of August, 1618. He was taken out of his bed ill a fit of fever, on the 24th of August, and unexpectedly hurried, not to his trial but to a sentence of death. Raleigh, on his return to his prison, while some were deeply deploring his fate observed that the world ilself is but a larger prison, out of which some are daily selected for execution. The last night of his existence was occupied by writ ing letters. His lady visited him lhat night, and amidst her tears acquainted him that she had obtained Ihe fa- vour of disposing of his body ; to which he answered smiling, " It is well, Bess, that thou mayst dispose of that dead, thou hadst not always the disposing of when it was alive.' At midnight he entreated her to leave him. It was then that, wilh unshaken fortitude, Ra leigh sat down to compose those verses on his death which being short, the most appropriate inay be re- peated. " Even such is Time, that takes on trust, Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with age and dust; Who in the dark and silent grave, When vve have vvander'd all our vyays, Shuts up the story of our days!" He has added two other lines expressive of his trust in his resurrection. On the same night, Raleigh wrote this distich on the candle burning dimly :— " Cowards fear to die : but courage stout, Rather than live in snuff, will be put out." On th8 morning of his death, he smoked, as usual, his favourite tobacco; and When they brought him a cup of excellent sack, being asked how he liked it, Raleigh answered, " As the fellow, that, drinking of St. Giles's bowl, as he went to Tyburu, said, that was good drink if a inan might tarry by it.'' His dress, as was usual with him, was elegant, if not rich. Oldys describes it, but mentions, thai he had a wrought night cap under his hat; his ruffland, a black wrought velvet night- gown over a hair- coloured satin doublet, and a black wrouglK waistcoat ; black cut talfety breeches, and ash- coloured silk stockings. He ascended ( he scatfold with the same cheerfulness lie had passed to it. Having taken off his cloak and doublet, he called to the headsman to shew him the axe, which not being instantly done, he repeated, " I prithee let me see it. Dost thou think 1 am afraid of it?" He passed his finger slightly over the edge, and smiling, observed to the sheriff, " This is a sharp medi- cine, but a sound cute for all diseases," and kissing it, laid it down. Another writer has, " This in that, that will cure all sorrows." After this, he went to three several corners of the scaffold, aud kneeling down, de sired all the people to pray for him, and recited a long prayer to himself. When lie began to prepare himself for the block, he first laid himself down to try how the block tilted liiin ; after rising up, the executioner kneeled down lo ask his forgiveness, which Raleigh readily granted; but entreated him not ( o s( rike till he gave a token by lifting up his hand, " and then fear not, but strike home.'' When lie laid his head down to receive the stroke, the executioner desiied him lo lay his head towards the east: " It was no greut matter which way a man's head stood, so that the heart lay right I" said Raleigh: but these were not his last words. He was once more to speak in this world, with the sajne intre pidity he had lived in it— for, having lain some minutes on the, block in prayer, he gave the signal ; but the ex ecutioner either unmindful, or ill fear, failed to strike, and Raleigh, after once or twice putting, forth his hands, was compelled to ask him, " Why dost thou not strike J — strike man. I" In two blows he was beheaded ; but from the first, his body never shrank from the spot by any disqpmposure of his posture, which, like his mind was immoveable. Thus died the glorious and gallant cavilier, of whom Onborujji^ aysjr " His de'ath was managed by him with - lii'gh and religious a resolution, as if a Roman had acted a'Chrislian, or rather a Christian a Roman." The cliyrch of St. Margaret, Westminster, contains the remains . of Sir Walter. Raleigh, who was interred there the saratj day lie was beheaded, in Old Palace Yard, October IS, 1618, 03EYINC INSTRUCTIONS. " Well, Julia, suppose I ai-' k y>> u father., any how, his refusal cannot make thing! liinCh worse than ihey ate at present. Suspense, Julia, is the c'. idse of the most miser- able feelings." " We mint not be hasty, Robert; on" situation requires caution ; by a little management we may possibly succeed, gloomy as the prospects appear to be. Now, don't say anything to pa about it yet-— I had much rather you would not. The best possible way for us to accouipfish our wishes, is not to advance too soon." " Too scon I— too soon, Julia? Have we not waited two long years, and more ? and have you not been preach- ing the same doctrine of' too soon,' all the while?— Too soon, indeed!" " Well now, don't be angry ; throw that, frown from your countenance, and look pleasant, and we'll immedi- ately set about some plan by which to effect what you so much desire. Come, smile away your anger; the skies of lore are sometimes clear." Robert Moulrie had loved Julia Haltowelland she loved him. About four years and more had passed since they had agreed, come weal, come woe, they would trudge through life together. Two long, long years I— Two years would seem to be an eternity to wait upou the ere ct bliss and to delay the happy consummation. Julia's father was a wealthy shipper of the port of Charleston, S. C. Some old inhabitants may remember the firm of llallowell & Hadington. He was an upright and highly honourable man ; but whose ipse di, vit was law supreme wherever bis power cmild be exercised. Robert Moultrie was a clerk in the counting- room, and bis salary, which was his sole dependence, though far above the pittance allowed for the services of young men similarly situated, and amply sufficient to warrant him in assuming the expenses of a family, did not elevate him to that importance in society which would justify him iu pre- suming upon the hand and heart of the daughter of a wealthy shipper. The character of this young gentleman was unimpeach- able, aud be was as much respected for his talents as he was for his correct deportment; but ( but is a wicked word,) the enr- e ot Giugaukiii was on him, he was poor. Robert had been in the counting- room of Mr. Halloweli since he was fourteen years of age ; he bad grown up in his family and by the side of this lovely heiress, who had been promised to a thing of wealth and show. That thing was in the Indies, amassing riches to lay at the feet of his bride, but his soul had on it the stain of dishonour, and Julia had vowed before God he should never call her wife* Hallowell knew that1 Robert generally attended his daughter to church, went and came with her when she visited her friends, and so on ; hut lie never dreamed that the wily eupid was witching his dans successfully In the bosom of both ; and the arrows of the little god were firmly fixed, and he dealt out the silken cord until they were far out upon the sea of love,— too far to proceed or return without each other. " Do tell me, Robert, what is the matter with you ? I have been a witness to your downcast looks and sorrow- ful appearance, until " l have grown melancholy myself. What's the matter, boy ?" This question was asked by Mr. Hallowell one day, when he and Robert were in the counting- room alone, and if any individual has ever passed through a little fiery trial, he can have some idea of Robert's feelings, vyhen the iii. ui whose daughter he loved, was contriving the bese plan to get. from him the secret, cause of his downcast looks, and addressed him iu such kind and affectionate language. It went too deep, however, into the secrets of Robert's bosom, for hiin to return a quick reply. Mr. Hallowell plainly saw that something was working upon his mind that made him unhappy, and he wi.< hed, if pos- sible, to remove the cause ; he urged a candid revelation* of all that.. affected his feelings, and promised his assist- ance to relieve him, whatever it required Robert succeeded, however, in putting him off for that time, and trumbWd nt the itiouglit when ai their next meeting he related the matter to Julia. " I thought," said she, latiehing, " yon were not so anxious to ask the old gentleman as you appeared to be - — now that was a stumper, Robert. Why did you not tell him? Why did you not ? — Ha ! ha !" " Julia, do you think be suspects?" " Not a whit more than he dues the King of the French!" " Well, Julia, to tell the truth about the matter, I left you this morning with the intention of telling him all about our affection for fetch oilier ; and if he lefused I was determined lo act lot myself without further advice • but when I came before him, I felt something in my throat choked me, and I could scarcely talk to him about busi- ness, much less about love affairs." The lovers met often, and the voyage from the Indies being threatened, it became necessary that thev should prepare for the trials that seemed toawaitthem. In short, Mr. Hallowell was endeavouring to ascertain the cause of hiscleik's uiibappiness, more for the nood of the young man than he cared about the unimportant mistake made by him in his accounts. The next opportunity that offered, he repeated his former question, and insisted on an im- mediate reply. Robert Stuttered and stammered a good deal, and at last came out with it.— " 1 am attached to a young lady ill this city, sir, and have reason to believe she is as much attached to me, but there is an obstacle iu the way." " Ah, indeed I— And does the obstacle amount to more than a thousand dollars .'— If it does not you shall not want it. I'll till you up a check now.— Have all parties consented ?" , " Why, sir, the cause of my— the reason— the— that is the cause of my uueasiuess,— 1 am afraid her father will not consent." " Will not consent .'— Why, who is he .' Refer him to me, I'll settle the matter." " He is a rich man, and 1 am not rich." ". His daughter loves you, does she?" " 1 think— I— yes, sir." " She says she does, any how, don't she ?" ", Why, I— yes— she— she— yes, sir, she has said as much." " Is the old fellow very rich ?" " I believe lie is lol— tolerably well off." " And lie wont consent? By the powers of love, he must be an old Turk ! — He wont, hey?— Here, give me his name.— I'll soon settle the matter':— but. stop, has he anything against, you ?— Does lie know me .'" Here the old gentleman went, over a string of questions which Robert felt no disposition to answer, and which it is not worth while to relate. The conclusion of the con- ference left Robert iu the possession of a check lor one thousand dollars, a letter of introduction to Paison Green ofthe. Presbyterian church, and the following ad. ice from the lips ol his father- in- law in perspective. He was to runaway with the girl, to use bis ( Mr. Hallowell's) car- riage, and George, his black waiter, was to drive it, and so forth. Robert governed himself in Strict accordance with the advice given, and before dark the parties vtere before Par- son Green, whose scruples of conscience were quieted by lite introductory letter. They weie sf> on pronounced hus- band and wife, anil jumped into the carriage, followed by the blessing of Parson Green, whose fee was a small part of the thousand- dollar check. George was directed to dr) ve the carriage to a rich old childless uncle of Robert's, who lived about a mile from the city, to whom the secret was told. Jhe old man ihouaht the joke too good a one nut to lie enjoyed, and sent oui for some of the neighbours. Midnight still found the jovial assembly destroying the good things the annt had provided, and lauubing over the trick so successfully played upon the wealthiest shipper at the South. Early iu the morning, Robert and Mrs. Moultrie were attended by their uncle, and aunt, lo the house of Mr. Hallowed : tne yimng couple anxious lor the effervescence ol a fat bet'H anger to be over, and the antiquated pair to witness the reception, and act as modificators on the question. They were met in the parlour by Mr. Hallo- wcll, whose first words were,— " You young rogue, you ;— little did I know how my ad- vice was to act upon me. Well, Robert," he added, laughing heartily," you caught me that time, and you de- serve to be rewarded for the generalship you have dis- played. Here, iny boy— my son, 1 suppose I must say—• here is a deed for property worth eleven thousand dollars and trom henceforth you are my partner in business." SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE. ANGELINA ! OR, THE MYSTERY OF ST. MARK'S ABBEY. AN ORIGINAL ROMANCE. BY THE AUTHOR OF ELA, THE OUTCAST I OR, THE GIPSY OF ROSEMARY DELL, & C. ( Continued from our last.) Overpowered by what she had suffered from terror and despair, Angelina for some time after the Baron and his creature had quitted the room, remained in a state of unconsciousness, and when she did recover her senses, she found herself reclining on the couch, and Bridget standing by her bedside, anxiously watching her. " Ah!" she exclaimed, looking wildly round the apartment, as if she expected to encounter some dread- ful form, " where ain I ?— am I still alive 1— where is • 4e, the murderer, the " " Ilush, for goodness sake, Miss, said Bridget" pray endeavour to compose yourself for the present, you have nothing to fear." " For the present; returned our heroine, " for the present you say, but oh, who shall save me from his future wrath J" Bridget did not answer directly, but seemed to be hesitating whether or not she should divulge something of which she was the depository. " Ifyou would only e'adeavour to calm your feel- ings, Miss,'' she at length said, in tones that scarcely amounted to more than a whisper,—" if you would only endeavour to calm your feelings, I could tell something which would show you that you still have some cause to hope to rescue yourself from the power of the Baron de Morton 1" " All! say you so?" eagerly demanded Angelina! " Oh, do not deceive me ;— do not play with my feel- ings, but te'il me at once what " " For Heaven's sake, Miss," said Bridget, looking fearfully around her, " do be more cautious in what you sa. y, for should we be overheard, not only would all chance of your enlargement be at an end, but both ouv lives would be sure to be sacrificed.— If you will abide by what 1 shall advise, and do not act rashly, before the morning, 1 have no doubt you will be at liberty." " Delightful word!" said Angelina in a voice of extacy;—" but can you speak seriously or are you only——" " What interest could it be for me to deceive you, Miss ?" interrupted Bridget reproachfully ; " but you will soon be convinced of the sincerity of my words— listen— I have something to relate to you which it is necessary you should know, in order that you may un- derstand the circumstances that have led to what I ain commissioned to inform you of." Our heroine descended from the bed, drew a chair close to where Bridget was about to sit, and prepared to listen to her with the greatest anxiety and impa- tience. Bridget first closed the outer door, and hav- ing looked into the secret apartment, to be certain that no one was concealed there, returned to Ange- lina, and taking a seat by her side, began as fol- lows!— " You must know, Miss, or perhaps you do know, that there is a celebrated smuggler about these parts, called Captain Clifford, or Hugh Clifford, which is the name he chooses to go by, though I have heard that it is not his right one ; however, that's nothing at all to du with my present subject " " Is the person of whom you speak, a young man?'' interrupted Angelina, eagerly. " Yes, indeed is he," replied Bridget, " and a hand some young man too; with features so mild yet dig- nified i eyes so bright, aud enough to pierce you through, and a form so tall, and so graceful, that I do not wonder he should have made so many conquests ofthe young damsels' hearts." " It must be him ;" observed our heroine. Oh, then you do know him," said Bridget inquir- ing!; . and ilierefpre he did not deceive me ?" " t think I have sgen the individual of whom you speak," returned Angelina wilh a blush, and a confused manner. " Think— ah, there is no thinkiHg in the matter s" re marked Bridget; " the whole of it is, that you need not be ashamed to acknowledge that you know Cap- tain Clifford, for, although he is a smuggler, there is not a more noble man in existence, and, for my part, I do not see. any particular crime in what he does; and he has been driven to it by misfortune, and not by choice. He is one of tile most generous benefactors to the poor, ( whom he considers deserving of relief), that ever existed. " At any rate you seem to know him," said An- gelina. '" Ah, Miss, you are right there, replied Bridget, " when Rufus gained the consent of my parents, lo make me his wife, a young man, to whom 1 had been fondly attached, and who loved me sincerely in return, was so cut up at the circumstance, that he left his re- gular employment, and joined the crew belonging to one of Captain Clifford's vessels ; poor Jerome ; it was a cruel thing on ihe part of my parents to force me to marry a man against my will; but then they were deceived by him, for, in spite ol his habitual black looks, Rufus knows how to dissemble." " And have you never heard who this Hugh Clifford, as lie is called, actually is ?" inquired our heroine, whose heart was so deeply interested in the account Bridget was giving, that she forgot for a while the more important information which she was so eager to gain. " Why, there ore various reports upon that subject," answered the servant;—" but it is the general belief that he is the son of some great gentleman, who for par- ticular reasons, bus discarded him ;— but no one that 1 have heard of, has ever yet questioned him upon, or hinted at such a subject. " He is very rich, and is supposed to have wealth se- creted in all parts of the country, and he manages mat- ters so cleverly, that he has never yet been detected, and may be said to carry on his illegal traffic with im- punity. They do say, that the principal portion of his property is deposited in some secret place in or near the ruins of St. Mark's Abbey, from the neighbourhood of which you was taken ; and they say also that Kate of the ruins, ( who is a particular friend of the Cap- tain's, and is 6aid to be possessed of supernatural powers), has put a spell upun the place ; for, although the ruins have been searched by the officers several times, and not a corner been left unexplored, they have never been able to find out Ihe smuggler's retreat, al- though they are certain it is on that spot." " Kate of the ruins," repeated our heroine, " and is that what they call the mysterious woman, who has made those ancient ruins her place of abode P" " It is,'* answered Bridget, " and there is as much mystery attached to her, as lo the smuggler Captain. She has been known to inhabit that place for many years; I have been told, and every person in the neigh- bourhood is afraid of her, although she has never been known to do any harm to any body. Some look upon her as a supernatural being, and others as a wretched maniac ; but I think that she is in some way or the other connected with Clifford, or she would not take such a deep interest in his fate as she does.— But, dear me, I am straying from my subject.— Well, Miss, as I was going to say, early this morning I took a walk down to Ihe cliffs, and on my way, who should I meet but poor Jerome .'— Then I knew that Clifford was in the neigh- bourhood, and ( I don't know what could put such a thought into my head ), I began to think that there might yet be some chance of saving you from the fate which threatened you, and in spit? of the risk I should run in so doing, 1 was determined to do all that laid in my power lo assist you ; for I could view but with horror and abhorrence, the persecution to which you are so unjustly subjected. I need not describe my meeting with Jerome, but I was not a little surprised when he informed me that he was about to lurk in the vicinity of the tower, for the very purpose of seeing me. He requested that I would accompany him to the vessel, as Hugh Clifford wished to see me on a matter of the utmost importance. At first I refused, for I considered I should beading imprudently; but Jeromff so strongly urged me to comply with his request, that I could no longer resist, and accordingly went on board, where 1 saw the Captain, and another person with him, who I was informed was your uncle, Miss." " My uncle 1" reiterated Angelina, wilh astonish- ment. " Yes, Miss, your uncle," said Bridget, " I feel positive it was him, because he spoke so affectionately of you, and seemed to be in such a violent state of agitation. Well, Miss, to make as short of iny stay as possible, I was soon made acquainted that the object of Captain Clifford, in wishing to see me, was to en- deavour to prevail upon me to aid them in effecting your liberation from the tower, for they said they were well aware that you was there confined. Notwithstand- ing the danger I should run, it did not take many minutes to gain my acquaintance ; the stratagem was as quickly contrived, and then your uncle wiote this note, which I promised to deliver to you." Angelina eagerly snatched the note from Bridget's hand, and opening it, read in the well known characters of Mr. Woodfield, the following words— " Dearest Angelina, do not despair, your liberation is at hand. Bridget will inform you of the plot We have formed, and you will be pleased to abide entirely by her directions. At midnight you will meet me, and a stranger, but a sincere friend, till which time, my dear child, Heaven protect and bless you, is the fervent prayer of your affectionate uncle." Inatrangpoil of extacy Angelina pressed the note to her lips, and tears of joy chased each other down her cheeks, then turning to Bridget, she said ;— " But what is the stratagem you have devised !" " It is simply this," answered Bridget;—" I shall have to attend upon you, and when we think that all is secure in the tower, you are to change clothes with me, and pass out by the way 1 shall direct you, and taking a secret passage which is well known tome, you will find your uncle and Clifford waiting for you, who will immediately conduct you to the vessel, and before daylight, you wiil be far enough away frOm this hated place Once on board the smuggler's vessel, you need not be under any apprehension, for his power is as much dreaded as if he were a most formidable enemy." " But how know you that before the time you speak of, it may not be too late; and that the Baron may not have acc implished his inhuman purpose ?" " Neither ihe Baron or Rtifus are at present in the tower," said Bridget in reply, " and I am certain they will not return before to- morrow. When I returned from the vessel, I observed Rufus, who had come by another way, and had evidently been watching the ves- sels. He did not perceive me, and I secreted myself until after I had seen him depart from the spot some lime, and to take the direction to return home, when 1 followed him. On my arrival here, I found Rufus the Baron in a state of great excitement, which was no doubt occasioned by what the latter had seen. Soon afterwards they both left together, after having first laid ihe strictest injunctions on me and ihe fel- lows left behind, to look narrowly after the security of the prisoner. But now, I have explained every thing, and I must beg of you, Miss, to endeavour to act wilh as much firmness and caution as you possibly can. I must leave you for the present, in case the suspicions of the rufiUns below- should be aroused from my long absence; at night I will see you again." " But my dear, good creature," ejaculated Ange- lina, " what will become of you?— will not all the blame- " " Oh, fear not for me, I pray," interrupted Brid- get, " great as will be the risk I know I shall run, the Almighty who knows the justice of my inten- tions, will watch over and protect rae from any harm that may threaten me." " Kind hearted woman, never, never shall I be able to repay you for this;" said Angelina, but Bridget heard it not, for she had hastily quitted the room, and our heroine was once more left alone. ( To be continued). PENCILLINCS ON SHIPBOARD. ( Concluded from our last.) The affirmative was carried vivu voce. Landsmen on a voyage are glad to catch at any plan which promises to keep that monotony- begotten incubus, ennui at bay. We Were now slipping delightfully through the water, with every sail set which would draw, and Were rapidly ex- changing the short, quick heave of the channel, for the measured, majestic,— t mas ! nauseating roll of the broad Atlantic. By ttie way, the sympathy, or rather ani- mosity, between the bosom of the deep and the diaphragm of man, is a queer affair. Major Tuuley, 1 recollect, had a curious and somewhat characteristic theory ou that sub- ject. To return to my digression :— I said we were be- ginning to feel the long, tegular undulations of the ocean ; I had not long noticed the change, when I saw the face of Mr. Sapling emerge from tbe companion hatch; bis com- plexion was withered to a whitey- brown, and it was evi- dent that bis stomach ' confessed the soft Impeachment" — the preventive plaster to the contrary, notwithstanding. The expression of thedaudy's countenance was exquisitely lachrymose; his eyes were leaden— his moustaches had lost their drake's tail curl, and drooped as if in sympathy with the corners of his mouth, while there was altogether an air of abandonment about the individual, infinitely touching to a feeling mind. To have mentioned love, ma- trimnny, or even personal interest, at such a conjuncture, would have been idle : we therefore determined to post- pone our approaches to a more propitious season. It was ridiculous to note the efforts which the chop fallen beau made to bide his infirmity: staggered up to Mr. Coon, who was leaning over the starboard bulwark, he pointed to a fast- fading speck ot land astern, and in a voice qui- vering with the shiver of oppressed nausea, inquired what land that was in the ' orizon ? " Well, now you put me in mind of it, 1 b'lieve those are the Stilly isles; were you ever there, Mr. Sapling?" returned the American drily." " O yes- l recollect—( ugh)— me and Lord—( ugh)— Gossamer—( augh)—" and here the unlortunate, unable longer to confront his rebellious member, scudded to lee- ward, and ' cast his bread upon the waters.' Tabitha and Wilhelmina were iu the meantime settling their little af- fairs, under the superintendence of the stewardess below. But sea- sickness is only a temporary evil. In a few days the elderly young ladies ( ma was never sick) were convalescent, and when we reached the lati- tude of the Western Islands, our plot was in full opera- tion. By this time we had been heaved, pitched, tossed, and rolled into intimacy, and most of us had communi- cated one to auother the nature ot our pursuits, Not so Augustus; he was aristocratic and mysterious, discours- ing more than ever of his high- l> otn acquaintance, much to the edification of his credulous inamorata. The former was in a state of eminent bamboozlenient, and we have strong reasons to suspect had offered and been accepted. We had hitherto been blessed with east and north- easterly winds, light hut steady, with, latterly, delicious weather; nor had we yet had occasion once to unrig our studding- sail booms. But the breeze suddenly left us. For three days we were unvisited by a zephyr strong enough to shake the reefs out of a lady's ringlets. " Fine weather for making love, catching Portuguese men- of- war, playing at shuffle- board, and everything of that kind," as the major oracularly remarked. I was gazing intently on the changing clouds, as tlleb fiety tints gradually softened into the quiet hues of twilight, when the major tapped me on the shoulder, and notified me that supper was ready below. " Come," said he, " the captain, O'Halloran, and Mr. Coon, have commenced operations, 1 saw them through tbe sky- light, and if we don't look sharp, we shall lat e badly. I'd a^ leave forage after a flight, of Egyp- tian locusts as Gileadaud the squire. Talking of foraging, by the way, puts me in mind ofa circumstance that hap- pened during the Peninsula War; provisions were scarce, aud Lord Wellington, you see " But having heaVd three editions of that same story from the same lips, I did not feel " a desire ou my mind," as the Quakers say, to hear a fourth ; so, saying I beard the steward calling us, 1 bolted down the companion, Tuuley kindly assuring me, as he trod on my heels in the descent, that I should have the whole story another time, if I ouly put him in mind of it. It is needless to say, I made an internal asseveration npt to bind him to his bargain, In the cabin we found the gentlemen, with one excep- tion, talking politics, the fair Tabitha and " ma" holding a conversation at cross purposes, and Augustus Fitzher- bert making tbe excruciatingly agreeable to Miss Wil- helmina. The consumables were reduced to a tew pinches of jerked beef, and some devilled biscuits. So much for sentiment and sunsets. Supper finished, we sat down, as usual, to loo. We had been playing for some time, and the captain was jnst distributing a fresh supply of counters, when Mr. Fathom, made his appearaucf, and informed his superior that it looked vety dirty to windward. " What, does he mean by 1 dirty to windward?'" sim- pered Wilhelmina to her cavalier. Augustus was somewhat nonplussed. " Dirty to wind- ward," drawled be, alter a considerable pause. " Ah 1 1 presume he intends to convey, that the sailors have not scrubbed the boards cleaa on that side." The captain and mate went on deck, and shortly after- wards we heard the sound of a commotion, such as at sea usually accompanies the rapid execution of hasty and ur- gent commands. " We are going to take the benefit of a squall,' I ex- claimed. " Can you swim ?" asked the squire, slowly and so- lemnly, of Sapling. " No," he replied, anxiously; " pray what do you inquire for?" " Nothing— ouly when a man has but a plank between his foot and what may be his grave, he ought to be able to swim." " Oh ! you don't think we are going to be in danger !" asked Wiliieluiiiia and Tabitha, in a breath. " Well, 1 expect we may; tbe sun went down mighty stormy, and this is an old ship," was the consolatory reply of the imperturbable Hiram. Sapling edged up to the major. Bid you think it looked like'iv for a storm, when you came down stairs, sir ?" " Storm," returned the veteran, with a sly leer at O'Halloran ;—" yes, very much ; just the sort of sunset i once witnessed in the Bay of Biscay, and that very night, our vessel— she was a stout transport, well manned, and ably commanded— foundered, and every soul perished, with tbe exception ofa surgeon's mate and myself. We lashed ourselves to a coop full of ducks — I have never eaten a duck since, and should think it sacrilege to do so — that was our salvation ; the vessel went down, but the ducks, yoa see. swam, aud helped to keep us above water, till we were picked up hy a French letter of Marque. The parlez vous devoured . our preserver, and carried. us into Rochelle. Well, as I said, that was much such an even- ing as this. 1 trust, however, matters may not turn out the same, especially as we have tio ducks on board. It would not surprise me, however, if we were on our beam ends before morning— mast gone— sailors at prayers - death staring us iu the face— and everything of that kind, you know." Sapling's physiognomy had grown longer and longer, as the recital proceeded, like a balloon from which the gas is gradually escaping: he had not, however, ah opportu- nity of making any comments, for as the narrator ceased speaking, Ihe sounds oyer head increased to an uproar; a sharp, hissing sound, followed hy a loud crash, suc- ceeded ; and in an instant afterwards, Sapling and the ladies, together with every article in the cabin that was not lashed, were canted leeward by a shock that made the timbers of the old skip shudder again, ' fhe rest of who bad anticipated something of the kind, avoided the like catastrope by clinging to tbe table. After picking tip the spilled damsels, with " tna" and Augustus, and assisting the former to their state rooms, we scrambled on deck to ascertain how matters stood there. The squall, though short, was sufficiently energetic; nor was the appearance of the huge, precipitous waves, which careered through the darkness on all sides, and often seemed as if about to engulf us iu their embrace, by any means inviting. The men had been unable to make all snug in time; tlie onset of the squall had, consequently carried away several of our lighter spars, and a heavy sea had stove in a fathom or so ot the starboard bulwarks, at the same time starting the water casks and long boat from their lashings, much to the discomfiture of a couple of sheep and a pig contained iu the hvter. The weather moderated before morning, and for seve- ral days after we had baffling winds, which kept us con- tinually tacking wiihaut making much progress. We hegan to feel ennuied, the courtship was becoming stale and we wanted fresh excitement, liwas, therefore, deter- mined to bring tilings to a crisis. In pursuance of this resolution, one morning When our victim came on deck, O'Halloran took him aside, aud, in a mysterious manner, " hoped he had not committed himself wilh Miss Wilhelmina." " Why do you ask me?" responded Sapling, rather taken aback. " Because," continued his tormentor, " the major and 1 fear that, trom false information, we have unintention- ally deceived you as to the pecuniary circumstances of her family. We are anxious now to set you right on the sub- ject— neither of the young ladies will have a shilling." The yotutg gentleman Was electrified ; an explanation followed— he was engaged to lead Feun tertius lo the altar, on our arrival in New York. " God bless me ! how sorry I am we have got vou into such a scrape!" exclaimed his auditor sympathetically; " but, you see, it was all the fault of that Ohio squire ; he told us be knew these people well, and that thi- y had an immensity of the indispensable; now he confesses having invented tbe whole story to ' snare a green- horn,' as he has the audacity lo call you, my ill- used and too con- fiding ftiend." " Did he say so ?" sputtered the dandy, in au ebullition of small wrath. " Then he is a ." " Sol think, exactly," said O'Halloran, interrupting him ; " let me act as your friend in tins matter. I'll go and do it at once," and our emissary returned to us to re- port progress. It is unnecessary to detail all the manoeuvres by which we finally induced the dupe to send Coon a challenge. Suffice it to say, thai the next day, after dinner, the latter individual being on deck to give us the opportunity, and the ladies taking siestas in theirstate- iooms, we managed, with the aid of the bottle, to stimulate Sapling's courage to the required state of effervescence. The missive having been penned with a trembling hand, was consigned to the Irishman, who immediately left us to baud it to the squire. " Are you a fair shot ?" queried the major of the chal- lenger, as soon as the messenger had lelt the cabin. " I believe," he added, " Mr. Coon has been known to split a bullet on the blade of a razor at twenty- five paces." Sapling groaned. " The worst of it is, you'll have no time for practice, for I have no doubt your antagonist will insist upon fight- ingat day- break to- morrow, or perhaps this evening; he's just that kind of man." " But, my dear sir," stammered the youth, now thoroughly frightened, " I can't think of fighting till we get onshore; the motion of the ship— and— the ladies— and besides, Captain Gilead would not permit it,"— and he looked imploringly at the latter. " Permit it, sir ?" cried the captain, " to he sure i will — always like to accommodate my passengers. You can fight before the ladies leave their berths, and if yoir only mind the roll of the ship, vou may send your bullet through a button hole. Mr. Fathom is an excellent hand at a splice if you should get winged, and there's a parson in the steerage who'll read the service over you, if we have to sew yoa in your hammock." " Ob yes," added Tunley, " we'll see to all that pro- perly, I assure you." At this juncture Coon and O'Hallorau entered the cabin. " Captain Gilead," said the former, " will you be my friend in this affair?" " With pleasure, Mr. Com." " Thank you. Mr. O'Halloran— quarter- deck— day- light to- morrow morning— ten paces— advance, and fire ; if both miss, take to our dirks. I have a couple of long Spanish knives, to one of which your principal is welcome, sl'iould we have occasion for them, which 1 expect we won't." So saving, and without, relaxing a muscle of his countenance, ilie squire bowed, and vanished up the com- panion- laddrr. Sapling was pale as ashes, and seemed almost paralyzed with terror. " Have you made your will, and everything of that kind ?" said Tunley, looking as grave as au undertaker. " No- o'." hysterically replied the youth. " Then you bad better retire to your berth, and do so at once; it is as well to be prepared for the worst." " Ye- es," sighed the persecuted, as with an air of be- wildered misery, he rose from the table, and shuffled into bis state- room. He did not make his appearance at supper, aud the next morning, when O'Halloran went to rouse him, he declared himself unable to rise, from a severe attack of rheumatism. It being the unanimous opinion that he had been sufficiently tormented, we pretended to believe him, aud he remained unmolested in bis berth during the short remainder of the voyage, Miss Wilhelmina sending the steward twice a day to inquire how be was. In four days from the above- mentioned morning, we landed from a boat at New York, leaving the Margaret at anchor in the stream. Augustus, whose rheumatism had miraculously departed as soon as we goo into the river, was the first who jumped on shore. No sootier had he touched the terrene, than he bolted, and 1 have strong reasons to believe the en- amoured Wilhelmina never again beheld her perfidious swain. 1 have now fairly stranded mv dramatis persona ; 1 cannot be expected, neither would it be decorous, that I should follow them to their hotels, and elsewhere, for the purpose of peering into their domestic concerns. I bad nearly forgotten to mention, that when travelling in Kentucky, I remarked the following, in gilt letters, on a blue ground, over the door of a tailor's shop, in the prin- cipal street :—" A. F. Sapling, tailor, from London;" and on looking through the w indow, 1 saw the veritable Augustus, the son of the baronet— cutting out a coat. " Ob, what a fall was thete, my countrymen !" SIMON TETCHY. " There are many thin- skinned people in tbe world, but Simon Tetchy seemed to have no skin at all. " Every person alive is vulnerable at someone point or another; a cuticle of the texture of parchment has a ten- der place somewhere, which will quiver at a breath ; but Tetchy was sensitive all over: and as for a cuticle, it was as if Nature had left him unprovided with any such gar- ment, and sent him to walk about the world in his cutis. He would wince at an accidental word or look ( which might mean nothing), although you had tickled him with the tip ofa red- hot poker. You were never safe with him. He seldom parted from you without leaving an impression on your mind that you" had given him pain or offence, though wondering what about; and, he as cautious in your conduct towards him as you could, fifty to one you had done so." Dick Doleful too has a very general acquaintance -— " I paid Captain Chronic a visit one day, and entered his room just as Mr. Doleful was leaving it. Doleful sighed audibly, shook his head, muttered ' Our poor dear friend 1' and- withdrew. This, from any other person, 1 should have construed . into a hint that our ' poor dear friend' was at his last gasp; but, being acquainted with Mr. Doleful'* ways, I approached the Captain as usual, shook his hand cordially, and, in a cheerful tone, iuquiied how he was getting on. ' Ah. mv dear fellow,' said be, at the same time slowly lifting his head from the sofa- cushion, ' I'm glad to see you ; it d > es me good j vou ask me how I do, and you look and you Speak as if you thought there was some life iu me. But that Mr. Doleful—! Here he comes, sir, three times a day ; walks' into the room, on tiptoe, AS if he thought 1 hadn't nerve to hear the creaking ofa shoe; touches the tip of one of my fingers, as if a cordial grasp would shatter me to atoms; and saysf ' Well, bow d'ye i now, Captain ?' with such a look, and in such a tone ! it always sounds to my ears,' What! ar'ntyoH dead yet, Captam ?' Then he sits down in that chair; speaks three words in two hours, and those three in a whisper; pulls a long face; squeezes out a tear— his dismal undertaker- counteuance lowering over me all the while ! I'm not a nervous man, but—;' and he here rose from his sofa, struck a blow ou a table which made every article upon it spiu, and roaied out in a voice loud enough to he heard from stem to stern of his old seventy- four, the Thunder- er :—' I'm not a nervous man ; but d— n me if he doesn't sometimes make me fancy I'm riding iu a hearse to my own funeral, with him following as chief mourner 1" But we must make an effort, even at the risk of barba- rous mutilations, to give a more general specimen, and shall try our hand at ' Early Rising.' Such of our read- ers as may have lead it heretofore in the London, or Neul Monthly, for we forget in which of these magazines it ap- peared, will not regret to have it recalled to their recol- lection :— " I do not call him an early riser who, once in his life, may have been forced out of his bed at eight o'clock on a November morning, in consequence of bis house having been on fire ever since seven ; nor would 1 attach such a stigma to him who, in the sheer spirit of fool- hardiness and bravado, should for once and away ' awake, arise,' even three or four hours earlier, in the same inclement season : I, myself have done it! But the fact is, that the thing, as a constant practice, is impossible to one who is not ' to tbe manner horn.' He must be taught it, as a fish is taught to swim, from his earliest infancy. * * " 1 know it may be objected to me that chimney- sweep- ers, dustmen, & c., are early risers ; but this 1 would ra- ther take to be a vulgar error than admit it as a fact j what proof can you adduce that they have yet been to bed?— For my own part, I am unwilling to think so uncharitably of human nature as to believe that any created being would force another to quit his bed at five o'clock, on a frosty morning. * * " 1 have confessed that once, in tbe sheer spirit of bra- vado, I myself rose ( or promised to rise,) at that ignomi- nious period of the night, known, or rather heard of, by the term ' four in the morning.' My folly deserved a se- vere punishment, which, indeed, it received iu its own consequences; but, since I have lately been informed that ' a good- uatured friend'is of opinion that it merits the additional chastisement of public exposure. 1 will ( tospure him the pain of bestowing it upon me,) inflict the lash with my own hand. " 1 had the pleasure of spending the last Christmas holidays very aereeably with a family at Bristol. " Having an appointment of some importance, for the eight of January, in London, I had settled that my visit should terminate ou Twellth- niglit. On ihe morning of that festive occasion I had not yet resolved on any patti- cular mode of conveyance to town ; when, walking along Broad Street, my attention was brought to the subject by the various coach- advertisements which were posted on the walls. The ' Highflyer' announced its departure at three in the afternoon— a rational hour; the ' Magnet'at ten in the morning — somewhat of the earliest; whilst the Wonder' was advertised to start, every morning at five precisely !!!— a glaring impossibility. * * * "' Wt often experience an irresistible impulse to inter- fere in some matter, simply because it happens to be no business of ours; and, the case in question being clearly no affair of mine, 1 resolved to inquire into it. I wen tin to the coach office, expecting to be told, in answer to my very first question, that tiie advertisement was altogether a ruse de guerre. " ' So, sir,' said I, to the book- keeper, ' you start" a co ich to Loud in at five in the morning ?' ; Yes, sir,' replied he— and wilh the most perfect non- chalance 1 ' You understand me? At five?— in the MORNING?' rejoined 1, with an emphasis sufficiently expressive of doubt. ' Yes, sir : fiveto a minute— two minutes later you'll lose your place. " This exceeded all my notions of human impudence It was evident 1 had here au extraordinary mine to work : so 1 determined upon digging into ita few fathoms deeper. " ' And would you, now, venture to book a place for me ?' " ' Let you know directly, sir.—( Hand down the " Wonder" Lunnun- book, there,)— when lor, sir?' " I stood aghast at tbe fellow's coolness. " After a ' Momentary pause,' For to- morrow,' said 1. " ' Full outside, sir; juot one place vacant in.' " The very word, ' outside,' bringing forcibly to my mind I be idea of ten or a dozen shivering creatures being induced, by any possible means, to perch themselves on the top of a coach, on adark, dull, dingy, drizzling morn- ing iu January, confirmed me in my belief that the whole affair was, what is vulgarly called a ' take in.' " ' So yon will venture then to book a place for me ?' " ' Yes, sir, if you please.' " ' And perhaps, you will go so far as to receive half my fare ?' " ' If yon please, sir— one pound two.' " ' Well, you are an extraordinary person ! Perhaps, now— pray be attentive— perhaps, now you will carry on the thing so far as to receive the whole?' " ' If you please, sir— two pound lour.'. " 1 paid him the money, observing, at the same time, aud iu a tone calculated to i in press his imagination with a vivid picture of attorneys, counsel, judge, and jury—' You shall hear from me again.' " " If you please, sir; to- morrow morning, at five punc- tual— start to a minute, sir— thank'ee, sir— good morning, sir.' " Aud this be uttered without a blush !! ! " ' To what expedients,' thought I, as I left the office, ' will men resort, for the purpose of injuring their neigh- bours ! Here is one who exposes himself to the conse- quences of an action at law, or, at least, to the expense of sending me to town in a chaise aud four, at a reason- able hour of the day ; aud all for so paltry an advantage as that of preventing my paying a trifling sum to a rival proprietor— and on the preposterous pretence, too, of send- ing rue off at five in the morning!' " The first person I met was my friend, Mark Norting- ton, and " Even now, though months have since rolled over my head, I shudder at the recollection of the agonies 1 suffer- ed, when assured by him of the frightful fact that I had, really and truly, engaged myself to travel In a coach which, really and truly, would start at five in the morning! * * " It may be asked why I did not forfeit my forty- four shillings, and thus escape the calamity. No; the laugh would have been too much against me : so, resolving to put a bold face on the matter, 1 1 will not say I walked— I positively swaggered about the streets of Bris- tol, for an hour or two, with all the self- importance of one who has already performed some extraordinary ex- ploit, and is conscious that the wondering gaze of the multitude is directed towards him. Being condemned to the miseries, it was but fair I should enjoy tbe honours, of the undertaking. To every person I met, with whom I had the slightest acquaintance, 1 said aloud, ' 1 start at five to- morrow morning !" at tbe same time adjusting my cravat and pulling up my collar ; and went into three or four shops and purchased " trifles for which I had no earthly occasion, fur the pure gratification of my vain- glory, in saying, ' Be sure you send them to- night, for 1 start at five in tbe morning 1' " But, beneath all his show of gallantry, my heart, like that of many another hero on equally desperate occasions — my heart was ill at ease. ***** " I returned to Reeve's Hotel, College Green, where I was lodging. * * * " T he individual who, at this time, so ably filled tbe important office of ' Boots,' at the hotel, was a character. Beit remembered that, in his youth, he bad been dis- charged from his place for omitting to call a gentleman, who was to go by one of the morning coaches, and who, in consequence of such neglect, missed bis journey. This misfortune made a lasting impression on the intelligent mind of Mr. Boots. " ' Boots,' said 1, in a mournful tune, ' you must call me at four o'clock.' " ' Do ' ee want to get up, zur ?" inquired he, wilh a broad Somersetshire twang. " ' IVant it, indeed ! no ; but 1 must.' " ' Well, zur, I'll carl'eu ; if you be as sure to get up as 1 be to carl'ee, you'll not knoa what two minutes arter vore means in your bed. Sure as ever clock strikes, I'll have'ee out, danged if I doant! Good night, zur ;'— and exit Boots. " ' Aud now I'll pack my portmanteau.' " It was a bitter cold night, and my bed- room fire had gone out. Except the rush- candle, iu a pierced tin box, I had nothing to cheer the gloom of a very large apart- ment, the walls of which ( now dotted all over by the me- lancholy rays of the rushlight, as they struggled through the holes of the box,) were of dark- brown wainscot— but one solitary wax taper. There lay coats, trowsers, linen, books, papers, dressing materials, in dire confusion, about the room. In despair, 1 sat me down at the foot of the bed, and contemplated the chaos around me. My energies were paralyzed by the scene. Had it been to gain a king- dom, I could not have thrown a glove into the portman- teau ; so, resolving to defer the packing till the morrow; I got into bed. " My slumbers were fitful— disturbed. Horrible dreams assailed me. Series of watches each pointing to the hour of FOUR, passed slowly helore nit— then, time. pieces— dials of larger size— aud, at last, enormous steeple- clocks, all pointing to FOUR, rouu, FOUR. " A change came o'er the spirit of my dream," and endless processions of watchmen moved along, each mournfully dinning in my ears, ' Past four o'clock.' At length 1 was attacked by nightmare. Methought I was an hourglass— old Father Time bestrode me— he pressed upon me with unendurable weight— fearfully and threateningly did he waive his scythe above my head— be grinned at me, struck three blows, audible blows, with the handle of his scythe, on my breast, stooped his huge head, aud shrieked in my ear— " ' Vore o'clock, ztir ; I zay it be vore o'clock.' " It was tbe awful voice of Boots. " ' Well, I bear you,' groaned I. " ' But I doan't hear yon. Vore o'clock, zur.' " ' Very well, very well, that'll do.' " ' Beggin' your pardon, but it woan't do, I' must get up— past vore, zur." * * * " And here he thundered away at the doer ; nor did he cease knocking till I was fairly up, and had slio'vn my.- tlt to him in order to satisfy him of the fact. " That'll do, zur; ' ee toald I to carl" ee, and I hope I ha' carld ' ee property. " 1 lit my taper at the rushlight. On opening a win- dow- shutter, I was regaled with the sight of a fog, a pa- rallel to which London itself, on one of its most perfect November days, could scarcely have produced. A dirtv, drizzling rain was falling. My heairt sank within me. It was now twenty minutes past four. 1 was master of no more - than forty disposable minutes, and, in that brief space, what had I not to do : The duties of the toilet were indispensable— the portmanteau must be packed— and, run as fast as I might, 1 could not get to tbe coach office in less than ten minutes. Hot water was a luxury not to be procured : at that villanous hour not a human being in the house ( nor, do I firmly believe, in the universe entire,) — uiy unfortunate selt, and my companion in wretched- ness, poor Boots, excepted, t he water in the jug was frozen ; but, hy dint of hammering upon it with the handle of the poker,. I succeeded in enticing out about as much as would have filled a tea- cup. Two towels, which bad been left wet in the room, were standing on a chair, bolt upright, as stiff as tbe poker itself, which yon might al- most as easily have bent. The tooth- brushes were riveted to the glass in which I had left them, and of which ( in my haste- to disengage theni from their stronghold,) they car- ried away a fragment; the soap was cemented to the dish ; my shaving- brush was a mass of ice. lu shape more ap- palling discomfort- bad never appeared on earth. I ap- proached the looking glass.— Even had all the materials for the operation been tolerably thawed, it was impossible to use a razor by such a light. " ' Who's ' here?' "' Now, if'ee please, zur; no time to lose; only twenty- vive minutes to vive.' " ' I lost my self- possession— 1 have often wondered that morning did not unsettle my mind. " There was no time for the performance of anything like a comfortable toilet. I resolved therefore to defer it altogether till the coach should stop to breakfast. ' I'll pack my portmanteau; that must be done.' In went whatever happened to come first to hand. In my haste, I had thrust in, amongst my own things, one of mine host's frozen towels. Everything must come out again. " ' Who's there?' " ' Now, zur ; ' eel be too late, zur !' "' Coming!* " Everything was now gathered together— the portman teau would not lock. No matter, it must be content to travel to town in a deshabille of straps. Where were my boots? In my hurry, 1 had packed away both pair. It was impossible to travel to London, on such a day, in slip- pers. Again was everything to be undone. " ' Now, zur, coach be going.' " The most unpleasant, part of the ceremony of hang- ing ( scarcely excepting the closingact) must be the hourly notice given to ihe culprit of the exact length of lime be has still to live. Could any circumstance have added much to the miseries of my situation, most assuredly it would have been those unfeeling reminders. " ' I'm coming,' again replied I, with a groan. ' I have only to pull ou my boots.' " They were both left- footed ! Then I must open the rascally portmanteau again. " ' Please, zur ' " ' What in the name of the do you want now?" " ' Coach be gone, please, zur.' " ' Gone! Is there any chance of my overtaking it ?' " ' Bless'ee ! noa, zur; not as Jem Robbins do drofve. He be vive mile off by now.' " ' You are certain of that ?' " ' I warrant ' ee, zur.' " At this assurance I felt a throh of joy, whieh was al- most a compensation for all my sufferings past. " ' Boots,' said 1, ' you are a kind- hearted creature, and I will give you an additional half- crown. Let the house be kept perfectly quiet, and desire the chambermaid to call me ' " ' At what o'clock, zur?' " ' This day three mouths at the earliest.' " TAKING A PLACE.— In a country playhouse " the play was over, and most wretchedly pe: • • i. actor came upon the stage to give en ii. . •.<[ " ' Pray,' says a gentleman, ' T ^ • • . : : - piece you have played, to- night P The Stage- Goaei » , Sir.' Then let me know when you perform it agnin, that 1 may be an outsie . - i ' THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE. JFragmxnts for ttj* © urtotisf. THE SLEEPING YORKSHIREMAN.— A correspondent who resides near Huddersfield in Yorkshire, gives vus the folio wing interesling account of a remarkable icase of pro tracted sleep :—" 1 live," says he, " within a mile of a u ian who has now been sleeping for the last thirty- six- weeks. I went to see him a few days ago. He lies on hi; . back, with his head turned a little to one side ; his nostr ils move a little, . and sometimes his eyelids his eye* are always open, and his pulse quite regular. Tbe bed clothes are observed moving up and down, as is the case with ordinary sleepers. He looks well enough, althoug h his face is turned very thin. His mother told me tha't last yeau previous to his falling asleep, his feet freque ntly turned very cold, and they had to keep them warm but now they have not felt them cold for the last three months. She feeds hiinvvith some fine gruel, and a litt le wine, put by a teaspoon between his teeth. He waa very dull and heavy for some days before he alep t. He slept for forty weeks about seven years ago and was worn like a skeleton, but on awaking he seemed to think the whole was a dream, and he told som e events which he remembered to have happened to him during his protracted repose. " THE DISCARDED." BALLAD.— BY ANDREW JAMES M'DOUALL, AUTHOR OF " THE THISTLE." Think Oil ONE who kneels to bless thee, Whom thy tongue hath often blest,— When yon shrank not to caress me, If my lips to thine were prest. Tho' my heart no hope retaineth, To illume life's desert way, First affection still remaineth, Pure as ever from decay. Think 011 one, & c. Tho' discarded and forsaken,— Scoru'd and taunted even now, I would still some pity waken, Where my spirit lov'd to bow. For my heart will cling unto thee, Whither yet my steps may go: There, in dream, thou'lt wander with rue, Reigning o'er mv path of woe. Tho' discarded, & c. Rgeent's Park, August, 1840. LUNACY IN FLEAS.— A descendant and namesake of the great philosophical author of the inductive system, recently puzzled a modern man of science, by asking him if he had read Doctor Von Shieninyclier's Treatise on the Cause of Lunacy in Fleas ? " No," replied the boaxee; " but it is very interesting, and it must be curious to trace the disease among the lower insect tribes, Byt,'' added lie, alter a solemn pause, " how has it been ascertained that fleas are liable to insnnity ?'' " Oil, very easily," rejoined B , " since so many of them die cracked 1" AMERICAN SIMILES.— Dip the Mississippi dry vviih a tea- spoon ; stop the second municipality from going a- head ; twist your heel into the toe of your boot ; make postmasters perforin their promises ; send up fishing- hooks with balloons and bob for stars; get astride ofa gossamer and chase a comet; when a rain is coming down like the cataract of Niagara, remember where you left your umbrella; clioke a musquito with a brickbat. In short, prove all things hitherto considered impossible to be possible, but never attempt to coax a woman to say she will, when she has once made up her mind to say she wont.— Picayune. AN ASPIRATION. 3Tf) C CCfjcatm. - Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice." SHAKSPERE. Mr. David Rees, as we prognosticated, has now fully established himself at Ihe llavniarket Theatre, as a first- rate low comedian, and will, no doubt, in- crease nightily in popularity. There is something like comedy both in his tone, delivery, and gesture, which, to our fancy, has seldom, if ever, been surpassed, cer- tainly not by that great and well- paid buffoon and farce- maker, Liston, over whose efforts we never failed lo fall into a comfortable and refreshing sTeep. His Paul Pry is, certainly, a great card, played vvilh inmitable humour, and with none of the extravagant foolery of its original representative. We hail the ap- pearance of Mr. Rces wilh much pleasure, and wish him every success in his profession. That fascinating actress, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, having returned from her trans- atlantic trip, has been engaged here, and has been performing in Mischief Making, and Mopcrieff's clever farce, called Foreign Jirs and Native Graces. We also perceive that Mr. J. Wallack and Mrs. Ster- ling are engaged. We have paid a visit to the Eng- lish Opera House, to witness the new Drama, founded upon Ainsworth's Romance of Guy Fawkes, and aie happy to award to it our best praise. The adapter has accomplished his task very skilfully, and the actors being well fitted to the different characters, every thing went off with inucli eclat. The scenery, dresses, < Sic., are excellent. Like Father, Like Son, and Life in The Clouds, still continue as attractive as ever. New pieces ( and, generally, highly attractive) are produced in such rapid succession at Sadler's Well's Theatre, that wc do not wonder the bouse is crowded every evening. Another new Drama, from the pen of Mr. Greenwood, the successful author of Paul The Pilot, & c., has been produced, under the tide of The Broken Oath, which bids fair to become one of the most popular that has been brought forward under Haines's able management. As a literary production, it is pos- sessed of rather more than die average merit of such pieces, but the manner in which the manager has at- tended to the getting up, is deserving of Ihe highest praise. The actors also exerted themselves lo the utmost, and the audieuce testified their delight by frequent and continued plaudits. Jane of the Hatchet still continues its attractive career at the Surrey The- atre. Mr. T. Jones's Benefit at the Royal Albert Saloon, on Wednesday, August 26th, was a bumper; and, indeed, the entertainments provided for that oc- casion, were of such an attractive description, that it would have been a proof of the bad taste of the public, bad they not availed themselves of such all excellent opportunity of enjoying a rational amusement. We are glad to perceive lhat the talents of Mr. T. Jones are so duly appreciated by the public. On the same evening, Mr. Campbell took his Benefit at tiie Grecian Saloon, which, as soon as the doors were open, was thronged in every part. The amusements were of n most varied aud excellent quality, and passed oil' with general applause. We trust that the saine good for- tune will ever attend the beneficial', for few persons in the profession have greater claims upon the public llian Mr. Campbell. aching head. « * Take care of evil company!" was the last injunction of my mother, and it has followed me until this moment; and the " Lord bless you I" re- sponded by my father remains upon my memory with all the force and freshness with which it was uttered. How sweetly came the fragrance of that morning air I The birds that sang around me felt not a greater thrill of delight than thai which gushed silently from my bosom. The sun rose in beauty— not a cloud darkened its radiance, yet there might be seen a few fantastic vapors scattered over the face of the blue heaven. Among all the beautiful in nature, however, I could not but look with some sadness upon the various changes that met me at every turn. A feeling of desolateness came over me : my boy playmates had now turned to thoughtful men: I was a stranger in a strange land. But Nature thiew her beauties around me; and from the gloom in which she found me I was won by her simple graces, by the beautiful in all ber works, and was- wooed by the happy faces I taw of rile youths who had grown up in my observance. And there was lovely Catherine ; she had grown since I last seen her, to form of commanding dignity and beauty. A word, a look, a tone of her sweet voice as it discoursed so eloquently with the piano, one pressure of the hand, though a hundred had proceeded it, ha; l a power over the spirits unacknowledged before. Spell- bound in the fascina- tion, enthralled in the idolatry of the suddenly awa- kened sentiment, I saw wit, beauty, eloquence, grace, charms, where hitherto I beheld them not, or, at the most, had only dim and visionary glimpses of their ex- istence. We wandered along a foot- path by which a brook flowed. How I envied the wind as it dallied with her long, beautiful ringlets; and ill the clear water I had a full view of her angelic form, mirrowed between me and the sky. 1 little dreamed then how true an emblem was that stream of our love, showing too truly the blue heaven that was to separate 11s. 1 reached my home, all was silent, I stole quietly to my bed, my mother heard me not. In sleep my fancy wandered back to Catherine, and Sliakspere mingled wilh my dreams and told me how Juliet loved and Viola sighed. 1 became a forester, and lived in a wood- cottage, surrounded by green trees and sweet flowers, and she whose image was imprinted 011 my heart, was my wife, and we wandered together through glen and glade, happy iu our loves. Then 1 awoke and saw the sunbeams had fallen upon iny pil- low. Yet 1 could not but think that all was not a dream. Who calls the forester 11 soulless being, bereft of all happiness, all ambiiioti, unacquainted witli pleasure and enjoyment ? He has not a conscience free aud light as air, a mind pure, and ail independence and nobleness of action with which the merciiaiu- slave of business is unacquainted ? Bards strike their harps 111 bis bowers, and many a high- born damsel has sighed iu ihe blue twilight for a peaceful home vvitlr tlie niins ret page. Heard you the sigh which rent ihe breast of that Great Man seated 011 the throne of Fame I Was it not cun- science that robbed him of his rest, aud spoke the dag- gers tu his soul ? 4 I sought our home, where peace and joy Willi all the rural virtues d a ell ; I'd rather be a farmer's boy, Than king, with conscience vvhisp'riug hull I ' GALLANT TOM! THE PERILS OF A SAILOR AND AFLOAT. AV ORIGtNAL NAUTICAL ROMANCE. ( Continued from our last.) than the black shadows of the tall pines in the grounds attached to his mansion. He returned once more to the sofa, and threw himself upon it;— his mind was tortured, and his brain was feverish. Suddenly a deep sigh smote his ear, and, ,' aising his head, he was hor- ror struck on beholding the well- known form of the black domino, who had haunted him at Ihe fete, stand- ing, with folded arms, exactly opposite to him, and wilh his piercing eyes fixed full upon his countenance ! _ The blood of the earl curdled in his veins;— his heart seemed to be frozen into a lump of ice ;— his limbs shook with violent agitation, and in a voice of horror he cried,— " Christ save me 1— Shade of the murdered Algernon, avatinf! I dare not— cannot encounter Ihy dreadful gaze!— Nay, fix not thy glassy eyes on me— it was not I who struck the fatal blow— horror!— horror!— Avaunt!" " Robert Fitzosbert," said the supposed phantom, solemnly, " the day of retribution is at hand ;— repent — repent, and make all Ihe atonement in your power for tile many crimes you have committed— Even now your base creature is the inmate of a prison, and ere many days shall elapse, you, too, shall be arraigned at the bar of justice. Beware ! — Repent!" " Mercy! — mercy!" shrieked the horror- struck earl, as he sunk back on the sofa, and covering his face with his hands, became insensible. ( To be Continued.) Oh 1 for the strength of the lion dread, For his lordly air and his kingly tread, When he shakes the earth with his mighty roar, Striking even the proudest man wilh awe. I would bound o'er the desert in swift career, And strike down the girafiV, the gnu, and the deer ; Thro' Afric's vast forests I'd impetuous scour, Till all therein should have owned my power. And man— proud man, even he should know The peril of daring to make me his foe ; Should I care for his gun, li s spear, or his bow, One fleet leaiful spring should soon lay him low. The pathless Sierra— tho measureless plain, The broad rapid river should never restrain ; For as king of Ihe beasts, I would fearlessly roam, Never seeking or wishing to find a home. And when the time came to yield up this life, From me it should meet no ignoble strife ; Basking in the fierce beams of the sun of the East, I'd resign one to death as a right royal beast. HOOD STODHART. EXTRAOROINAHY MEMORY OF MALIBRAN.— Madame Malibran had a most extraordinary power of memory. 1 haved known her study an opera in the morning, and play in it tbe same evening. She had only 10 try over the music once, and she knew it perfectly. One day when we were visiting Chevalier Neukoinni, Maria took up a mass of his composition which was lying on the table. She sung it throughout, and accompanied her- self without making a single mistake, although it was in manuscript, and exceedingly difficult. I saw her in the space of half an hour learn Ihe language of signs— that is to say, the mode by which deaf and dumb per- sons communicate. DUTCH LAWSUIT. — A few years ago a couple of Dutchmen upon the high hills of Limestone, ( hough very friendly, had a terrible falling out about out kill- ing the other's dog, for which he sued for damages. They were called into court, and the defendant in ihe case was asked by the judge if he killed llie dug.' " Pe sure 1 kilt him," said the Dutchman, " but let him proof it." This being quite satisfactory, the plain- till' in ihe case was called 011 to answer a few questions: he was asked by the judge at what amount he estimated the damages i He did not understand this question so well, so, to be a little plainer, the judge asked him what be thought the dog to be worth i " Pe sure," said he, " the dog was wort nothing, but since he was so mean as to kilt him, he shall pay de full value of him."— American Paper. LINES. 1 aril not happy— I am not gay, Since thou my love art gone: No smiles now o'er my features play— With grief my heart is worn. No more shall I partake of bliss- Joy has fled lor me : A cold and weary life is this, Unblestmy love with thee, llovv many happy hours untold Have fleeted swiftly by ;— Each moment would new joys unfold, When thou, my love, vvert nigh. 1 lo/ d thee then— I love thee now— Others seek my love iu vain -.— My passion's first and warmest glow, Time never shall restrain. Farewell! lost, yet dear beloved one ;— Deaiest, fare iliee well lor ever ! In my faithful bosom, none Shall reign like thee— oh, never ! ELLEN. LET NO OLD BACHELOR OR OLD MAID READ THIS !— AVe learn that the wife of 1111 Irish boy, only 17 years ol'nge, who is yet an apprentice to a mechanical busi ness, having several years lo serve, and residing ii Emlyn's Court, in New Orleans, a few weeks since gave birth to three bouncing babies— alt boys! The mother and boys are doing well. The indentures of the father ought fobs cancelled instanter.— Now, should any coward of au old bachelor ( old bachelors are alway cowards) or fidgetty old maids rea'd tl is paragraph, not- withstanding the injunction upon tlieui not to do so, we advise. them to go and— get married. A. FKENCHVIAN'S DEFINITION OF A BROKER,— Ah! me make von discouverie ! Vat is de raison vat fore de peepelie call de agent broltair ? It is becose veil de per- sonne have bizzenesse vid him he become broKe 1— New York Paper. MRS. INCHBALD was a pretty, but not clever woman, with an impediment in her speech, which stage- fright always took away. This was a curious effect to observe behind lhe scenes. NATURE, HOME, AND LOVE. A SUMMER RHAPSODY. ' Thus in Ihe lake's clear crystal we descry The bright diffusion of a radiant sky— Reflected nature sheds a milder green, While half her forests floats into the scene ; Ah ! as we gaze, tho luckless zephyr flicij, The surface trembles, and the picture dies.' CAWTHORN, ' Oh, how this spring of love reseinbleth The uncertain glory of an April day Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by- and- byc a cloud takes all away.' SHAKSPERE. "" ' Home ! Oh ! at thai spell, what mingled feelings come Thick 011 the heart with overwhelming force— Love, tenderness, regret; perchance remorse.' Let us away into the country— Ihe pure, ihe beau- tiful country! and see around us the fields of nature loaded with luxuriance— tho forest, where Ihe bird's merry lone is heard from morning till night, bending its foliage in frowning grandeur to the wind— and the meadow, enamelled with its thousand variegated sweets, expose Iheir odorous charms. I love tile coun- try— its thousand bright and gushing rills— its mighty rivers that glide on lo seek the ocean's breast— ils smiling fields— the rough and ragged rocks, that rear their heads high in wild fantastic forms. We dally ( villi the blossom, snuff up the fragrance it leaves upon the breeze, taste ihe fruit, mid listen the while to the music of the feathered tribe, mingled wilh the sound of some distant waterfall, and the wild zephyr, tempered by the rays of the sun, refreshes us and gives new vigour to our frame, aud impulse to our feelings. But ill ihe gratification of tiis senses, man is satisfied ; and he forgets lhat feeling, hearing, taste, and sight, arc so many avenues to his imagination, where in his intel- lectual existence he may revel, and in his range from field to field, in Fancy's boundless scope, taste all the pleasures destined by Nature's God for his enjoyment. Like ihe bee, therefore, we wander from tlower to flower, that so pleasantly strew 1 he pathway of life, and live without knowing how or wherefore, look upon the beauties that crown creation with a careless eye, and wander among their. sweets with a comparatively heed- less heart. The fragrant flower, the falling leaf, the stream, the cliff, the stone, the cloud, the mountain, and the valley, all raise their voiceless song to Him whose sun exalts, whose breath peifumes, and whose pencil paints Ihe skies.' Yet man, ungrateful man! for whom all things were made, looks on all with carelessness, and feels no burst of thankful praise struggling from his heart, lo the bountiful Giver of every good. " Go 1 and from the smallest aloin of carlh upon which thou hast thy dwell- ing place— from the meanest worm, the most despised reptile that crawls beneath thy feci— Learn to Live!'* The moon had nearly climbed the highest hill that overlooks the valley of C , and shone with a pale but beautiful lustre upon the town of iny nativity : its steeples rose glittering before me, and were bathed in her silver beams. There in majestic grandeur stood that venerable institution, blest seat of science! where in study I spent my youthful hours. Lively and vigo- rous exercise brought me health aud smoothed my path to the fount of knowledge. No cloud obstructed Fancy's view; in rapture the night rolled by, aud the day of joy lightly flitted away.— But those pleasing scenes are one, and the fond illusion charms 110 more. Ye happy THE PARTING. * * * I passed the evening with Catherine, her cherub sister., and their mother. —" You must pardon iny staying to so late an hour; l am not a frequent visitor, but I never know when it is time to go when in the enj. iymeu of such sweet society." There was a longer lingering at the door- step ; for C.' s voice made music so soft and clear in the still night air, and her eyes, as they beut au occasional look to me, so like a kindred heaven answering to lhat over our heads,— how cuuld 1 quit all, to be alone again f And her last parting words—" Thou mu- t go to roam afar from," she said, ' but reap 11 ga- rland in the bright fields of Fame, worthy of thyself. I will pray for thee when tlmu art gone, and I- will mingle with each pure t . ought thy name, tilt the long day of absence shall have tlown, the 11 I will welcome thee once more !" " Star of my fate 1 thou stately flower of Love ! We part — but not long. To Him above 1 give thee in keeping— to Destiny unchangeable I yield myself, to prove ihe depth of love my heart's deep cell shall burn unquenchable." She sought her lair home amidst the forest bowers, pondering n'- r joys that fade sway like the sunset's glow ; but her cheeks lose not their freshness, nor her eyes their lustre. Never shall I forget that parting hour. 1 still feel the thrill in my veins which first rushed through them when Catherine shook hands with meal parting. Hersvveet " Good night" rung upon my ears like softest music. A new world opened before me; feelings lo which I had hitherto been 11 stranger had taken possession of me. Oh 1 how unlike anything I hid felt before, even when thrilling poetry gave my blood ils most rapid mo- tion. Had i then never loved before ?— When she spoke, every word vibrated upon my heart like a touched harp. string; and when she was silent I still listened, and heard, or fancied echoes, or my heart tieat q licker and 1 felt the sound. I had the love of a father, mo- ther brother and sister ; and oh 1 far weightier than all these, a lover's love to outweigh them all. 1 felt that I could look upon her face forever without satiety or weariness, and discover new charms the longer I gazed. ****** youths! ye favoured ones who now wander where science serenely reigns, may Learning's influence fall gently 011 your privileged heads, and teach the soul to spurn his narrow vale nnd soar to its congenial skies. Since last I was there, the voice of liini who so long and honourably laboured with so much advantage to society, the institution and ils pupils, is hushed iu silent Death.— And I cannot but utter lliis tribute to the sacredne& s of his memory, of his great moral woith, anil of his ardent devotion lo the welfare of ihe rising generation : — ' His life was gentle, and ihe elements so mixt I11 him, that nature might stand up and say To all ihe world, THIS WAS INDEED A MAN I' No familiar sound- met my ear, no glad face welcomed me there— it was ihe fitting lime of night ; then so con- sonant with my feelings— a slumbering viord was sti. l I rode towards my Former home, musing upon my checkered exksttnce, and at times forgetting tlmt I had earibly concerns, to gaze and admire the sceneiy around me. It had be. 11 long .- ince I last saw ( he s, ot on which my infant eyes first met tbe light, but I can- not describe tbe feelings of my bosom in lhat hour of solitude I drew near the home of my parents. I le- tnembered the hour I left tlieni 1 it was the broad blaze of a summer's m'dday sun ; they both followed me to the door, and the last w ord 01" each burned upou my HALUERT, THE GK1M. There is blood on that brow 1 There is blood on thai h mil ' There is blood on tliat Hauberk ! And blood on that brand ! Oil, bloody all over Is bis war cloak 1 vveet; And he's wrapt in'the cover Of murders red sheet! The hardest may soften— The fiercest repent ; But the heart of Grim Halbert May never relent. Death doing on eat ih Is ever his cry ; And pillage and plunder His hope in the sky ; He kneels not to stone ; He bends not to wood ; But lie svvunji round his sword- blade, And hewed down the. rood. He stuck his long sword With its point ill the earth ; And be prayed to his cross- hilt In mockery and mirth. Thtrs lowly he loutetb And mumbles his heads; Then lightly he 1 isetli Aud homeward he speeds. His steed hurries on. Darkling and dim ; And fearful it prances With Halbert the Grim. No noise bath its horn hoof As onward it sped ; But silent it falls As the foot ofthe dead ; But fiercer and redder Flares far iis bright eye ; And bar- her those dark sounds Fill out their fierce cry ! Sheer downward and downward Thus da- h'd lite au. l limb, As careering to hell Went Haibert the ( irini ! QUICK AS POSSIBLE.— A gentleman was one day Composing the music of a rondeau for a lady 1o whom he paid his addresses. Pray, Miss D. ( said h-), what time do you prefer ?" " Oh 1 ( she replied, carelessly) any time will do, but the quicker the baiter." The company laughed at the rejoinder, and Ihe gentleman took her at her ward. Richard, completely thunderstruck by what he had seen, jumped from his couch and went to the door, but the stranger was gone, and he distinctly heard the street door closed cautiously after him. On going to the casement, and looking our, he saw him hastening away in the direction which led to the high road, and shortly afterwards he was hidden From his view. Confident that it was no dream, Richard, in vain, now tried to conjecture the cause of the stranger's mysteri- ous visit to liini. He was, however, inclined to think that he meant no harm, although his motives for acting in such a singular manner were entirely beyond his comprehension. He slept 110 more that nigt't, and as soon as daylight dawned, he sought the presence of Mat, and informed him of the whole particulars. Richard had, of course, expected lo sec his uncle evince great surprise upon bDing made acquainted with this circumstance, but to his astonishment, he ex- hibited not the least emotion, and only said that the lad must have been labouring under the'delii- aon of a dream, For how was it possible that any person could gain access to the house without their knowledge, when he had himself seen that every door iiud window was properly secured beFore he had retired to rest ? Richard, however, declared earnestly ihat he could not have been mistaken, in proof oF which he men- tioned the circumstance of his bearing ihe stran- ger close the stieet- door, and also having watched him from the casement afterwards. Mat, however, did not seem to like Ihe subject, and stilt affecting to treat Richard's statement with incredulity, be left the room to attend to his business. Richard, however, could not erase the strange evenl so easily from his memory, and formed a variety of ideas upon the matter, each equally unsalisfaclcry. He left the house iu the afternoon for a solitary ramble among the fields » nd green lanes in the vicinity, and so much was his mind occupied with the adventure ot* the previous evening, that the time p- issed away unheeded' by him, and it was nearly dark before lie thought of re- turning home. He walked slowly on, for it was a fine evening, and the air was refreshing. He li.-. d just reached a . woody dell, when his arm was arrested vio- lently by some person close by, and looking round, what was his terror and astonishment to behold the fierce eyes of Saib the black, fixed fiercely and revenge- fully npon him. Ah!" exclaimed the wretch in a tone of exulta- tion, which was perfectly fiendish, " the opportunity I have long, so ardently ihirs'. ed aftei, has arrived at last. 1 swore that you should not escape my clutches, and now I have you in my power, your doom is sealed. Hated brat— bane oF my peace ;— the imp who Foiled me in my deep laid scheme of vengeance, which would have immolated me and all my foes— this night— this hour, you die." " Oh, Saib," ejaculated Richard, trembling with terror beneath the ferocity oF his glance, and vainly trying to release himself from the fellow's powerful grasp, -' wtiy should you seek in Ihe first instance 10 take my life ? I never offended you ; 1 could not have offended you; and cannot account for the hatred and revenge you have always exhibited towards me. I im- plore you to release me, and suffer me to proceed about my business, and I promise you that 110 one shall be made acquainted with the attack you have just made upon me 1" " Fool! idiot 1" cried Saib, " think you the wolf will so easily resign his prey— Ha! ha! ha!— You plead in vain ;— indeed, your anguish but serves to add to my delight. This sp it you shall u^ ver more quit alive. There is 110 one near— no one now ( 0 rescue you, and give me over to punishment— thus iheii do I perform ( lie btoody deed, for which I have long prayed. Earl Fitzosbeit, your fear will now be at an end. Die, hated off- pring of -" " Die \ on r.- e f, you damned black swab I" cxclaitned the well- known voice of Tom, just as Saib had dashed the lad to Ihe earth, and was about to plunge a knife in his breast. The report of a pistol immediately fol- lowed, and then a piercing cry of agony escaped the black, as he stumbled to the earth, and raising himself with difficulty on his elbow, he cried in a voice hoarse with rage and pain,— " By the infernal host I'm shot !— What demon bath dime lliis ? Ah! the sailor— the— the — oh, curses, curses eternal light upon his head !" Another word like tlmt, you cowardly shark, and damine, iF 1 don't blow your brains out directly. How- ever, this will be the lasl time you shall have a chance of gratifying your blood- thirsty disposition ; — if there is any justice to be obtained in Ihe country, you shall be punished for this. . However, as I don't wish you to escape the retribution you deserve, I will bind up your wound, which seems to be an awkward one, and then leave you here until I have got Ihe officers to lake charge of you." Eternal curses light upon you!" repeated Saib groaning w ilh rage and pain, while Tom, in spite oF his kicking and biting at him, persisted in binding up the wound, which vvas in his arm, and having secured his legs with another handkerchief, so that he could not get away, he hurried Richard from the spot, and made his way lo the town. In less than hall'an hour Tom returned to the place where he had left the black, accompanied by a couple of officers, and found him foaming at the mouth like a madman, with rage and agony. He fixed a glance of fiendish malice upon Tom, and tried to speak, but he could not, and gnashed his teeth with fury. He was speedily conveyed by the officers beFore the magis- trate, and tiie charge having heen made by Ihe boy, Richard, and corroborated in its principal points by Tom, he having overheard the words uttered by Saib, and seeu the attempt made ; in addition to which, there being the evidence adduced of his Former daring wut- rage upon tile lad, ihe magistrates committed him to take his trial ; and the villain, uttering the most dread- ful execrations, was conveyed immediately to the in- firmary, prior lo his being sent lo gaol. In the inean lime, ihe Earl Fitzosbert, who for the last Few weeks had but seldom quitted his chamber, and whose spirits were sinking inure and more daily, under Ihe effects of conscience, had been aston. stied that Saib did not make his appearance, as he was ac- customed to pass the greater portion of the day wilh his master iu his chamber, and lie began to fear that something had happened to him. All the afternoon he had fell mere than usually depressed, and a presenti- ment of some approaching calamity tormented his mind, which he in vain endeavoured lo shtke oft'; but when night came, and still his faithful my rinidon di- 1 1101 make his appearance, his anxiety and uneasiness became almost insupportable. He arose from the sofa 011 which lie had beeu reclining, and walked to the window and looked out, but it was now quite dark and he vvas not able to distinguish any other objects CHARADES. I. I am a word of fourteen letters.-— IF my reader has 4, 1. 4, 11, been in Ihe 5,6, 14, 9, 4, 3, ( hat is 6, 9, 7, 4, 11, the 11, 8, 1, 4, 11, no doubt he has seen a 3, 4, 1, 4, 11. IF lie has been a 5, 11, 10, I, 4, 3, 3, 4, 11, he may have been lo 12, 9, 7,8, 2, or seen tbe 9, 4, 1, 10, or the 14, 12, 3, 4 by which the 3, 10, 9,7, is oFten 8, 9, 6, 14, 7, 2, 5,4, 7. He may have been in a 5, 10, 1, 4, 11,9, and partook of 1, 4, 2,3, and 10, 3, 4, For 7, 8, 9, 14,4, It, or had 5, 4, 13. My 7, 10.9, 8, 4,3, was a highly- Favoured inan, opposed to 6, 14, 12, 5, 10, II, 12, 10, 9, principles; my 5. 10, 11,2,9. 5, 6, 3, 2— is a curious insect; my 13, 11, 12,2— 7. fi, 4, 5, and 5, 6, 9 4— relates to music ; my 2, 7,11, 12, 2, 9— w ill name a Roman emperoi ; iny 5, 4,9— is a number; my 7, 6, 4, 3— is a fashionable way of dropping an acquaint- ance ; my 1, 4, 12, 3— is a covering for Ihe face; my 4, 3,7, 4, 11— is a tree ; my 9, 4, 5, 5, 3, 4— is a plant; and my whole is what I hope my reader is not. D. W. P. II. I am a word of > i* letters.— My ideas are no* so 5, I, 1, hul that 2 can dine 5, 8, a 4, 2, 5, 6, of mutton with any of my 5.4, 1, friends, and drink tea strong enough to rai< e the 3, 2, 1, off ( he pot, while Commissioner 4. 1, 6, is kicking up a dust about the opium trade. M y evening amusement is to read the dramatic writings of 3 2. 3. 4, 5. or TalFourd, especially the 2. 5, 6, of ihs latter. A Spanish 1,5,6, would perhaps I. 5, little, but 3, 5, 3. 4, or reoline 2, 6, his chair, and shew his 2, 3, 1, manners by a sleepy 6, 5, 1, occasionally. Eneas bravely defended 2, 3, 2, 5. 6, and was beloved by Queen 1, 2, 1, 5. The Scandinavians worshipped 5, 1,2. 6, who was a woocli- n- headed fellow with 6, 5, more brains than the 1, 5, 3. 4, my little nerce bought last Wednesday. Cromwell was nicknamed 6, 5, 3, 4— his tongue went smooth as 5, 2, 3 yet he had the cou- rage of a 4, 5, 2, 6, and the snout of a hull- dog. Na- poleon 1,2, 1, wonders amidst ( he 1,2, 6, of battle at 4,5, 1,2. Mv entire is the surname of art Irish cor- respondent of the SUNDAY TIMES, and author of this charade. ANSWER TO CIIABLES JAMF. S c's CHARADE IN NO. 19. ' Tvvas Ihe serpent beguiled our grandmother. Eve, In the Garden of Eden, we're taught to believe ; And so Moses asserts, but he does not declare. That a coal or a fin- mine vvas ever Been there : But 110 doubt that ( he citron, ihe melon, and pin'., Grew and flourish'd in Eden by. order Divine. The pen's often used for the number nineteen. And a pint of good ale is a cure for ( he spleen. IF my reader could walk into Nottinghamshire, The treat and the trees he would see— but I fear By the lime lie arrived there he'd surely want rest. And he'd sleep en Ihe down like a bird in the nest. Tripe, smolher'd with onions, is good when ' tis boil'd, And a print or a book you may often see soil d. To rob. bilk, or plunder's considered a sin. But what shall I say of lhat logue called a pin? For a brazen- Faced sharper is it at ( he best, Yet no lady without its assistance is dressed. A snipe is the bird ; and you may have a fall Down a hill, if it's steep, aye, with bottle aud all, Containing the spirit, rum, brandy, or gin ; Which, iF drank lo excess, will soon strip lo the skin; For when troubled wilh ennui, and blunt's very low, The togs to my uncle's will one by one go. A step and a peer, and iny terrier Tray, May be seen in' the street; and when I go to pay My rent lo Ihe landlord, ( my Tray's wilii me seen.) For you can't shoot the moon— no-. v you know vvlml I mean. When the honest voiing rustic tells a loving, soFl tale To a beautiful damsel— the. pride of the vale, To Sir Priest they soon hasten— his bosom does burn For Maria— but not the Maria of Sterne. Pickles, pepper, and salt, wilh a steak's very nice, The spine, iF ' tis broke, is not easy to splice ; You may bolster it up, but ' tis of little use. The Iris I find is a flower- de- luce, If yon walk in Hyde Park any day that is tine, You'll there see the water— the fam'd SERPENTINE. D. W. P. CONUNDRUMS. 1.— Why is the bars on a convent window like a blacksmith's apron ? 2.— Why is a prodigal son, past redemption, like a person soliciting charity 3.— Why is 11 Fair lady's lips like the River Thames? 4.— Why is a person, thankless For past Favours, like an empty fire- place ? 5.— Why is a corrupt minister like a fish- monger ? 6.— Why is our beloved sovereign like a wet day I 7.— Why are the members of Ihe temperance society like a man going to be hanged ? .' 8 What tree is like O'Connell ? 9.— Why is a cooper like a musician ? 10 Why is Ireland like a church- steeple ! REBUS. My whole the general oF mankind do love, Which to the world, dear sir, you can prove ; Omit a letter, and then you'll see What all mankind do love as well as me ; Omit a second, surely then you'll find What is detested by all human kind. L. B. The Following POPULAR WORKS are Now Publishing by E. LLOYD, 30, Curtain Road, Shoreditch. NEW AND HIGHLY INTERESTING WORK. IN Weekly Numbers at ONE PENNY, and Monthly Paris at FOURPENCIS, with splendid engravings, FATHERLESS FANNY; MYSTERIOUS ORPHAN: With No. I, is presen( ed. THREE SUPERB ENGRAVINGS, GRATIS!! Part 3 is now ready . E1 LA, THE OUTCAST; OR, THE GIPSY GIRL OF ROSEMARY DELL. A Tale of the most thrilling Interest. In Penny Weekly Nu mbers and Fourpenny Monthly Paris. Steel and Wood Engravings. London: Printed and Published by E. LLOYD, 30 Curtain Road, Shoreditch ; and at 44, Holywell Street, Strand.