BIO. 25. LONDON:— SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 1840. police. DISCOVERY OF TIE MURDER OF MR. & MRS. COOK, OF PEOVER, BY THE HOUSEMAID. Bow- sraeer. AN UNFOR+ UNATE ATTACHMENT.— Mr. Gzekiel Numps, anything but a gav Lothario in appearance, was charged by a policeman with being found iu a very suspicions and awkward position, namely, suspended by the tails of his coat to the area railings of J. Anderson, Esq., Buckiog- liam- street, Strand. The prisoner was a poor, attenuated, grievous, peppi- r- and- salt coinplexioiied man, with a pair of lens like a convulsed or paralytic pair of fire tongues, and in answer to the charge, it came out that he had im- bibed an ardent passion for a rotund, rubicund, pug- nosed, wobble- mouthed cook, in the said gentleman's family, yeclept Miss Susannah Sniggs, whom lie was in the habit of vi- iting at the area railings every evening, where they drank deep libations of love ill glances, winks, and other dumb, hut expressive demonstrations; and he ad- mitted that, the visit was sometimes made more pleasant, by the addition of more substantial food, in the shape of a little " brass knocker," alias brntten victuals. At length their love became so ardent, that the tender youth pre vailed upon her to admit him to the kitchen, hiit not pos- sessing the key of the area ga'e, he attempted to clamber over the tailings to rush into cookey's arms, who was waiting below to receive him. But, alas ! " the course of true love never did run smooth," and so the luckless Ezekiel soon found out to his cost ; for in living to ac- complish the feat, the skirts of his c . at caught on the spikes, and there he hung like a black doll at a ran shop door, or a suspended Guy Eaux. Iu the midst of this, the policeman came up, and not only took him off the hooks, \" . but off to the statio/ i- house, followed by the weeping ruler of the roast. . Miss Susannah Sniggs, who was not more than eighteen stone, aud down whose cheeks the tears rolled like fat over a buttock of beef, here presented herself, and declared that " upon her life Mr. Ezekiel Numps had not come to her master's house for any clandesent or unlegal plirpos'; hut that it was true as he was payin' his devours to her, and that their love was mutual. She declared as when she seed th' accident, she was quite nitrified, and that th' p'lceman had used him in a very hash manner, by draesin' him boffin the manner he did." The policeman denied having used any unnecessary vio- lence; and the magistrate having read cooky and her swain a very severe lecture, and cautioned them as to their future melh. d of courtship, discharged Mr. Ezekiel Nunips. HATTON CARDEN. Miss Ellen Bridges, a very yretty young woman, af- filed in Ihe newest fashion, was brought before the ma- gistrate, on an assault warrant issued at the suit of one Mr. Dennis O'ltcgau, a tall, well- dressed, sprightly na- tive of ihe Hint raid Me, who had complained to his wor- ship that lie hill been grievously assaulted by the said hllen. Mr l) » iini » O'Regan, it seems, had a friend, who is the esr » cial protector of tlie fair defendant. He went the Oilier night, lo deliver a letter to this friend, at the house in which Ellen resides His friend was not at home, but he saw Ellen, and she— totally laying aside the delicacy of her sex, " and all ihe rest of it"— gave him one ot the most scun y receptions imaginable; viz.— He was standing in the hall, ii, quiring nt ihe landlady for his friend, when suddenly the pai lour door opened, and out rushed Ellen with the velocity of a nine- pounder—" And pray what woultl you he after wanting with that gentleman ?'— she asked, at Ihe same lime atfe- nipting to snatch the letter from Mr. O'Regan's hand. " It isn't yourself that the letter is for at all, my jewel," replied Mr. O'Regan, slipping the letter into his pocket—" and as for what I want with that gentleman, you have no right to be asking me the question. Faith, we'll see that;" said the lady, and instantly placed her fair back against the front door, evidently with the intention of cutting off Mr. 0' Regati's retreat. Well, what was to be done now ? It was growing late, and as Mr. O'Regan very justly ob- served, if he was detained there he could not go elsewhere. So, after trying what remonstrance would do, and finding it had no effect whatever, he took hold of the fair hand of the lady, and endeavoured to remove her from the door by a little gentle force; but, 10 his utter astonish- ment, she instantly disengaged her hand, and in the twinkllngof an eye, as it were, he received two or three sound boxes on either ear, and a kick on the abdomen, which for some moments materially interfered with his faculty of breathing. Astonished that a ladv should kick, lint nothing daunted, he again advanced to the attack, or, in the words of the fancy, to the scratch, taking care this tune to advance in an attitude of defence— ct- la- Spring. His caution was useless, however, for the lady broke through his guard in an instant, boxed his ears again soundly, or rather sounding! y, and planted another kick- on his bowel- case, with her dexterous little foot, in the self- same spot as before! This was an extremely awk- ward bit of business, and Mr. O'Regan felt it so. He could not, consistently with his character as a gentleman, and an Irish gentleman in particular, use greater violence to a lady ; and he might have gone 011, as before, till he had not, an ear left for her to box, or a pair of trousers for her to kick. He, therefore, declined coming to the scratch again; and contented himself with calling upon the comely landlady of the dwelling, who all this while had been quietly holding the caudle for them.— He pe- remptorily told her commodious laudladyship, that unless lie was instantly suffered to go about his business, he would consider himself as detained by her connivance, and have his action against her for false Imprisonment accordingly. This produced the desired effect— the land- lady interfered, a parley ensued, and at last Mr. O'Regan was liberated. In support of this statement Mr. O'Regan called the landlauy aforesaid. The landlady ( an immense personage) declared she saw neither kicl. s nor slaps. Miss Ellen certainly put her back against the door to prevent Mr. O'Regan from going, until she knew what he wanted with tjer friend; and a CEILING WHACKS- A BEL- FREY. A bell- fray /— yes, indeed ' lis ( rue; And by their foolish tricks, They prove tiiey ileal in ceiling whacks And that they themselves are sticks. Rare men of metal they would seem, And in wedlock none excels, For Ihey are dapslera all will own At ringing of the belles ! Poor senseless louts, the changes now They ring, our cut discloses— They've left off wringing of the bells To (< « ) ring each other's noses! sort of scuffle took place in consequence : and that was all she knew about it. Here Mr. O'ftegan lifted up his hands and eyes in as- tonishment ; for, as he said, the landlady held the candle to them all the while, and could not avoid seeing every bit of it. The magistrate now asked Miss Ellen what she had to say to it ? The poor girl told a sad tale. She first burst into tears, and for some seconds was unable to speak. She then spoke of her former respectable and happv situation in life before she became what she now is— a kept- mistress. " But," said she, " Mr. -—- has promised fo marry me, and 1 trust in heaven he will 1" Here she wept again, and was proceeding to make some further general re- marks, when the magistrate desired her to confine herself to the charge of having assaulted Mr. O'Regan. She then admitted having prevented Mr. ORegan's de- parture from the house, and said she was induced to do so, because she verily believed he came with the intention of injuring her in the opinion of the or. ly friend she had in the world— Mr. , her protector. As to the kick- ing, & c., she denied it; though not very positively. She was ordered to find bail for her appearance at the Sessions, and Mr. O'Regan said he should certainly pro- secute her; hut the magistrate told bin he thought it would be better to let such an affair pass over without further notice. MARYLEBONE. Mr. Bryan O'Callaghan, of James- street, green- grocer, fruiterer, coal and potatoe- jnerchant, salt fish and Irish pork- monger, was brought before the magistrate OH a peace- warrant issued at the suit of his wife, Mrs. Sarah O'Callaglian. f *^ Mrs. O'Cullaghan is an Englishwoman, who, according to her own account, married Mr. O'Callaghan for love, and lias been " blessed with many children by him." But nevertheless, she appeared before the magistrate with her face all scratched and bruised, from her eyes downward to tlie very tip of her chin ; all which scratches and bruises, she said, were the handiwork of her husband. The unfortunate Sarah, it appeared, married Mr. O'Cal- laglian about seven years ago ; at which time he was as polite a young Irishman as ever handled a potatoe on this side ofthe Channel;— he had everything snug and comfort- able about him, and bis purse and his person taken together were quite ondeniable She, herself, was a young woman genteelly brought tip— abounding in friends, and acquaint- ance, and silk gowns; with three good bonnets always in use, and black velvet shoes to correspond; welcome wherever she went, whether to dinner, tea, or supper, and made much of by every body. St. Giles's bells rang merrily at their wedding ; a fine fat leg of mutton and caners, plenty of pickled salmon, three ample dishes of salt fish and potatoes, with pies, pudding, and porter of the best, were set forth for the bridal supper; all the most considerablest families in Dyott- strpet and Church lane were invited, and everything promised a world of happiness— and, for five whole years, they were happy She loved— as Lord Bvron would say, " She lovM and was belov'd; she ador'd and she was worshipped;" hut Mr. O'Callaghan was too much like the hero of his Lord- ship's talc— his affections could not " hold the bent;" and the sixth year had scarcely commenced, when poor Sarah discovered that she had " outlived his liking." From that time to the present he had treated her con. tinually with the greatest cruelly; and, at last, when by this means he had reduced her from a comely young per- son to a mere handful of a poor creature, he beat her, and turned her out of doors ! This was Mrs. O'Callaghati's story; and she told it with such pathos, that all who heard it, pitied lier— ex- cept her husband. It was now Mr. O'Callaghati's turn to speak. Whilst his wife was speaking, he had stood with his back towards her. his arms folded across his breast to keep down his choler, biting his lies, and staring at the blank wall; but, ihe moment she ceased, he a rnptly turned round and, curiously enough, asked the magistrate whether Misthress O'Caltaghan bad done spoking? " She lias," replied his worship; " bat supposejyon ask her wlielher she has any thing more to say " " I sholl, sir!" exclaimed the angry Mr. O'Callaghau —" Misthress O'Callaghau, had you any more of it to say ?" Mrs. O'Callaghan raised her eyes to the ceiling, clasped her hands together, aud was silent. " Very well, then," continued he—" will I get lave to spake, your honour ?" His honour nodded permission, and Mr. O'Callaehan immediately began a defence, to which it is impossible to do justice ; so exuberantly did be suit Ihe action to the word, and the word o the action. " Ocli ! your honour, there is something the matter with me !" he began; at the same time putting two of his fingers perpendicularly over his forehead to intimate that Mrs. O'Callaghan had played him false. He then went into a long story ahotit a " Misther Ronrke," who lodged in his house, and had taken the liberty of assisting him in his conjugal duties, " without any lave from him at all." It was one night in par tickler, be said, that he himself went to bed betimes in the little back parlour, quite entirely sick with the head- ache. Misther Roui ke was out from home; and when ihe shop was shut up, Mrs. O'Callaahan went out too; but he didn't much care for that, ounly he. thought she might as well have stayed at home, and so he couldn't go to sleep for thinking of it, " Well, at one o'clock in the morning," he continued, lowering his voice into a sort of loud whisper; " at one o'clock in the morning, Misther Rourke lets himself' 111 with the key that he had, and goes up to bed— and I thought nothing at all; but presently I hears something come, tap, tap, tap, at the street door. The minute after, down comes Misther Rourke, and opens the door, and sure it was Sarah— Mistiness O'Callaghan that is, more's the pitv— and devil a bit she came to see after me in the little back parlour at all, but up stairs she goes after Misther Rourke.—' Och !' says I,' but there's something the matther with me this night '.'— and I got up with the night- cap o' th' head of A BELLY FULL OF CRAPES. War's dire misfortues here we view, Which comes in divers shapes; And who is there would not look sour At such a belly full of grapes ? Oh, this is glory— this is fame, The pleasure this of war ! And it is clear, although by grapes, ' Tis death by cannon law ! Intrepid hero must he be- In him no fear we trace, For no one more heroically The cannon's mouth could face! CHINESE PENAL CODE AND FORM OF PUNISH. MENT. The Chinese code of laws, in everything relating to political freedom, or individual independence, appears to be most wofully defective : but for the repression of disorder, and the genlle coercion of a vast popula- tion, it is on the other hand equally mild and effica- cious. The criminal punishments are strangulation and decapitation, which are inflicted in all cases of bur- glary and homicide. Infanticide is punished only with the bambo and a year's imprisonment ; white it is a capital offence lo strike or curse a parent. In all cases of treason, ihe offender is subject to various modes of torture termed Ling chi, no mercy is held out to him, his children suffer death, and his property is confiscated. Minor offences are punished with an ap- plication of tho bambo, the severity of ( he punish- ment being always in proportion to the offence; or with the cangue, a kind of wooden collar in wliich the criminal is placed, sometimes for a month together, while his offence is publicly proclaimed in a writing attached to the instrument of torture. It is impossible for the offender, while in this position, to raise the hand to his mouth, he must, during the term of his expiation, suffer himself to be fed by others. Although the pu- nishments provided hy their penal laws are in most cases extremely severe, in every offence, except trea- son, they are qualified in their application by a judi- cious and liberal show of mercy. " The most remark- able tiling in this code is its great reasonableness^ leaT- ness, and consistency, the business- like brevt^ and directness of the various provisions, and the plainness and moderation in which they are expressed. There is nothing here of the monstrous verbiage of most other Asiatic productions, nothing of the superstitious delira- tion, the miserable incoherence, the tremendous non je- ijuiturs and eternal repetitions of those oracular per- formances; nothing even of the turgid adulation, the accumulated epithets, and fatiguing self- praise of other eastern despotisms; but a clear, concise, and distinct series of enactments, savouring throughout of practicat judgment and European good sense, and, if not always xinformable to our improved notions of expediency in this country, in general approaching 10 ( hem more nearly than the codes of most other nations." TOO GOOD A WIFE. me, and went into the shop to see for a knife, but 1 couldn't get one by no manes. So I creeps up stairs, step bv step, step by step, ( here Mr. O'Callaghan walked 011 tiptoe all across the office, to show the magistrate how quietly he went up the stairs,) and when I gets to the top, I sees ' em— by the gash ( gas) coming through the chink io the windy- cut tains— I sees ' em ; and ' Och ! Misthress O'Callaghan !' says he ; and ' Och ! Misther Rourke !' says she— and ' Och botheration !' says I to myself,' and what will 1 do now ?' " We cannot follow Mr. O'Cal- laghan any further iu the detail of his melancholy affair; it is sufficient that he saw enough to convince him that tie was dishonoured ; that, by some accident or other, he disturbed the guilty pair, whereupon Mrs. O'Callaghan- crept under Mr. Rourke's bed, to hide herself; that. Mr O'Callaghan rushed into the room, and dragged her from under the bed, by her " wicked leg;" and that he fell about the round table in the corner, where Mr. Rourke kept his bread and cheese, in the hope of finding a knife. " And what would you have done with it if you had found it ?" asked his worship. " Is it what I would have done with it, your honour asks?" exclaimed Mr. O'Callaghan, almost choked with rage—" Is it what I would have done with it!— ounly that I'd have dagged it into the heart of ' em at that same time !" As he said this, he threw himself into an atti- tude of wild despenr' n, and made a tremendous lunge, as if in the very act of slaughter. To make short of a long story, he did not find the knife, Mr. Rotirke barricadoeil himself in his room, and Mr. O'Callaghan turned his wife out of doors. The magistrate ordered him to find bail to keep the peace towards his wife and all the Queen's subjects, and told him if his wife was indeed what he had represented her to be, he must seek some less violent mode of sepa- ration than the knife. Luckless and ill- fated is the wight who hath a partner prone to cards or paint, to throwing teacups, or dancing with first eousins not absolutely ill- looking. I pity him from the very depths of my spirit— yet I envy him Yes, bis is an enviable state of existence to mine. What is a simple fracture or two— « r a slight scar on the temnle— or a dinner service demolished— or the loss of the money which yon had put by for vour summer expellees at some- where, to an old card- player that yon hate : or even the elopement with the not ill- looking first cousin, which is Ihe consequence of your remonstrance ? All these are. nothing to my sufferings,— but tiiey spring from a different caus^. I am not tormented with a bad wife ; but I am tortured— that is not the word, it does not ex » ross what I mean— with a 1rood one. All mv ca'afnTties arise from my good- fortune ; my indescribable misery lie's af the door of my unspeakable happiness. I am like a mail, who having unfortunately drawn a prize of ten thousand pounds, is immediately thrown hy his creditors into prison! for twenty thousand ; or 1 resemble the unhappy wfiitie'r of the prize ox lately raffled for, whose appetite reduced! the envied possessor of the beast to the verge of bank- ruptcy. I am ruined, I repeat, by my good- fortnne. Had " my wife" been less amiable, 1 had been less afflicted ; but she is perfection— and 1 am undone. Oh ! ye, who1 love, but have the incalculable advantage of not being ' beloved in return ; ye, whose wives reward your devoted attentions with the most profound and unmitigated hatred ; ye, who never knew what it was to be doated on lo a de- gree of inconvenience, which, as novels and newspapers remark " may be more easily conceived than described" — how lit tie able are ye to sympathise with me ! I am the very victim of " mv wife's" idolatry, the martyr to my own felicity. Her affection for me is of that miciviscopfie kind, that slie is perpetually detecting some horrible niiU'd in what I had foolishly looked upon as a prospect of plea- sure. She finds blots upon my sun when I fancy it all brightness. She sees poison in everything I happen, by any chance, to have a partiality for She is such a faith- ful guardian to my happiness, and takes such extraordinary care of mv comforts, that she never lets me have any for use. Every disaster that has happened to me for these ten years may be clearly traced to her precautions for avoiding it. Lest I should get into any danger, or rather, lest her affectionate spirit should miss. the delight of sharing it with me, she never trusts me out of her sight. There she always at my elbow, taking care, as she says, that 1 want for nothing— a form of life and lieht, That seen became a part of sigtit! And rose where'er 1 turned mine eye In fact, I cannot turn it upon the most trivial object, with- out undergoing a cross examination as to my motive for looking at it. If my eye happen to fall upon the window, or turned towards the sky, I am saluted with—" What is the matter ? Are you going out ?" If my eye wanders round the room, she remarks it, and says—" Can I get you anything ?" or if it be fixed for a moment 011 the fire, —" Y011 are cold :— shall 1 ring for some coals ?" Nay, if 1 glance, though ever so carlessly, at the girl who brings ( hem, the same question ' S ready—" What do you war. t? — anything that 1 can get you ?" Her tender regard for my health takes place of every other feeling. 1 have been a most pitiable invalid for many years,— not that I feel ill, — quite the contrary. You would think me remarkably strong and healthy; but" my wife" knows better. She is aware that 1 am of a most'delicate and sickly constitu- tion, and she accordingly abridges my beef- steak, and locks up my cigars, with a firmness that amounts to something philosophic. She sees the water come into my eyes, or my mouth— hut without relenting. I11 short, she is the most sensitive of women. She detects a fever in opening the door, and discovers a rheumatism in every keyhole. She never uses an umbrella until she is sure it is thorougly aired;— is seized with an ague at the sight of a damp newspaper regularly every morning; and once experienced inflammation, which she attributed to her having incautiously drank some water out of a wet glass. MORE INDIAN TROUBLES. ^ THE SIOUX AND CHIPPEWAS.— Accoiding ( o present appearances ( he Indians seem disposed ( 0 save ( he Whites the trouble of exterminating them, by killing each other. The Sioux and Chippewas tribes of In- « dians, who had assembled at Fort Snelling to receive their ammunition, have had a brush at two different points on the St. Croix, and again about thirty miles above the Falls of St. Anthony. At the latter place, the Sioux fell upon a body of Chippewas, and kill- ed one hundred and thirly- three men, women and children. On the St. Croix. Chippewas were attacked by a Sioux chief named Big Thunder, and thirty- six of their number killed.— Many escaped by huddling round the whites, Messrs. Atkinsand Mc Leod's party, when the Sioux were directed not to fire. These attacks are occasioned by the death of a Sioux brave, who was killed by a Chippewa. A general slaughter is ex- pected at the next meeting of the two tribes,, tttttoip AND PEOPLE'S PENNY POLICE GAZETTE THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE- 1 DOESKIN BREECHES; OR, THE POST- MASTER'S WEDDING NICHT I ( WRITTEN FOR TIIE " PENNY SUNDAY TIMES," BY J. BILLON, DUBLIN.) To wear the breeches, is, in a wife, to usurp the au- thority ofthe husband.— DOCTOR JOHNSON. Rather than let ynur wife the breeches wear. Send them to Galway,. Cork, or— anywhere. MYSF. LF. It was a cold and gloomy night in the month of January — a night that might well induce one to seek the vicinity of a pair of Kilkenny blankets, or a cheerful fire and a flask ot Inishowen in - preference to an ootside seat on one of Her Majesty s mails • vet, manure the inclement season, the root ot the. mail coach, plying from Dublin to Gilvvav, was not entirely devoid of occupants : a few hardship- daring individuals had perched themselves 011 that un- enviable ebevatiou, there to bide *' The pelting of the pitiless storm," a'rid afford, each in his own person, au illustration of poetic iaiagery, by " Sitting like Patience on a monument." The wind blew in fitful gusts, driving a sharp sleet directly an their faces, which were partially protected from the Tilde visitation by being muffled up so closely as lo leave merely the eyes and tips of the noses visible, the chill air - rausing iliese latter organs to assume various shades of - colour, graduating from adelicate pea- green to the deepest, tpnrple. It was nearly midnight when the driver stopped ifor the purpose of changing horses at a town remarkable for nothing, save the merit of having produced two ladies whilom celebrated in the metropolis as " iheKionegad Slasheis." Here Ihe guard, coachman, and passengers, contrary to the principles of total abstinence, each forti- fied his inward man with a draught somewhat, stronger than scalded buttermilk, and more exhiliratingMiau even that favourite teetotal beverage, vulgarly yefeped " Hot- gob." Whatever may be said or written, sung or whistled by water- drinkers in support of an adverse theory, this tiuielv refreshment had an invigorating effect on the tra- vellers, and they resumed their seats with a degree of cheerfoluess scarcely to be expected, when the dreary as- pect of the weather, aud other inconveniences attendant 00 the journey are taken into account. In less than an hour afterwards, they reached the next post- town, or rather a straggling village, which had heen favoured with a post- office, for the accommodation of some influential persons residing in its neighbourhood. At this place, fresh horses weie not requisite, the distance from the former stage being short. It was, however, ne- cessary to stop a lew moments, iu order to deliver the letter bags, and receive in return those directed for the various post towns on the line of road The inhabitants had retired to rest; not a star twinkled on high— not a ru- h- light glimmered iu the dwellings around : all was dark, silent, and lonely, and had been so for hours, pre- vious to the arrival of the mail. By way of announcing that event, the guard sounded his horn, adding au orna- mental flourish as a hint to the postmaster that his pre- sence^ was required. I11 all likelihood, the music was a little inferior to that of Orpheus, since no object, animate or inanimate,- saemed moved by it, with the exception of a cur d* g that chanced to stray that way, and accompanied the instrumental pei formance with hideous and lengthen- ed liowls. Kven this additional and unexpected flow of hanuooy, failed to procure the attendance of the post- tn^ ster :— and here It may be observed, that patience is a virtue, the want of wdiich should be excused in the driver • of a night coach, when he meets with unusual and un- reasonable delay, it being well Understood that be must perform bis journey within a limited lime. The driver of the Gahvay mail possessed no more equanimity of temper than the generality of his brethren of the whip. He first indicated bis displeasuse by a growling that might have been supposed t. i proceed from an ar. gry bear, and then turning to the guard, who was engaged in trimming the coach lamps, lie exclaimed in a tone not remarkable for its uiUdne$, s,— " Confound the rascal! what can he mean bv keeping us waiting 011 him in such weather as this ? I wish 1 had Wm up beside me for an hour or so— how I'd like to hear the hail rattling on his jaws, and his teeth knocking to- gether. I'll be bound he's not saying his prayei; s, or do- ing anything good ; if he was I'd forgive him ; but the spalpeen thinks more about saving money, than saving his dirty old soul." ' " That's the truest thing you've said these twelve mouths," replied the guard. " I can't guess what in the name of misery has come over him— something strange it must be, or we'd have seen bis ugly muzzle at the first Wast of the horn. He is never drnnk, except with l un- ger, or when he gets whiskey for nothing. However, for fear of the worst, here goes to give him another w arn- ing." So saying, he raised the horn to his mouth, and having inflated his cheeks, till they bore no very distant resemblance to blown bladders, awakened a sontid so horribly discordant and astounding, that his fellow- tra- vellers trembled for the safety of their tytnpaniums. the inpiates of the adjacent houses started from their beds in affright, and the aforesaid cur, lowering his ears and tail, made off as fast as his legs would carryTiim. After pro- ducing such consequences, none need wonder that it had the further effect of bringing tlif postmaster to the door. He now appeared, shrinking from the wintery blast, with no Other covering than his shirt and a great coat thrown loosely over liU shoulders. Hastily muttering a few words of apology, scarcely heeded by those to whom they were addressed, and yet responded to with as many hcaity curses, h » gave up the leather bags containing tlie letters into the hands of the guard, who, having counted them over, pronounced the accustomed words, " All right," as a signal for starting. '.' Crack went the whip, round went the wheels," and with such rapidity, that the post- master's " Good night 1" was breathed to the winds, for ere the " sound had passed his lips, the travellers were al- ready out of hearing. The cause of ibis extraordinary delay, was of such a nature that it could not long remain a mystery. The KUard had very naturally ascribed it to the intervention of some strange occurrence ; and subsequent disclosures proved his conjecture to be right. On the day preceding that memorable night, the / postmaster had commenced a new era in his existence, hy taking to himself a wife. This important affair he hail managed with the strictest privacy', wisely resolving not to incur the least exsence that could by any possibility be avoided. It was easy to col- lect from the conversation of the coachman and guard, that he was a man of parsimonious habits and selfish dis- position. None ever thought of laying an act of libei ality to his charge— had they done so, lie might have brought an action for slander, aud mulcted them in heavy damages: neither could he be taxed with ostentation iu point of dress ;— his habiliments usually consisting ofa rusty bl. tck coat, middle- aged hat, and trousers of that species called Russia ducks, which, strange as it may appear, seemed to shrink from the touch of water, and certainly ran no risk oi' being worn away hy too frequent immersions in that element. Avarice being the ruling passion of their'owner, it was doubtless owing to its inflner. ee that lie remained single until entering on his fiftieth year ; in fact, he had determined to le. sist all temptations to matrimonii 1 but the powerful one of adding 1 hereby to the matter n'money he already possessed, nevertheless this prudent resolution of bis, was not grounded 011 any disinclination 10 the plea- sures of female society ; and were his cranium submitted to a phrenological examination, the " acquisitiveness," and '• good- for- nothingness," might appear to be the or- gans most strongly developed, still would the presence ol " ainativeness" tie fully demonstrated by sundry bumps, arising from a contact with kitchen pokers, broomsticks, and oilier useful domestic implements, which his attempts at gallantry frequently called into action. Some of his freaks in this way are described in a copy of verses ad- dressed to him, aud adapted to the favourite air— Oh ! these were the days when strange faces arose In your mind, which experience now cures; You imagined each girl that followed her nose, Absolutely was following yours. " Oh 1 remember the time in La Manclia's green shades." SONG. Oh ! remember the time when at Ballinasloe With the buxom landlady you met; Anil believed, you had bothered and blarneyed her so, That whatever you'd ask you should get. And forget not her sturdy old husband, whose head You swore you would knock ' gainst the wall:— Good Lord 1 trom his cudgel how nimbly you fled, When he rushed forth ou hearing her squall! Two pretty young damsels who came there from Birr, Their kislies of apples to sell, Thought you eyed them much like ( in impertinent cur, ' 1' ho' your meaning they could not well tell. Your kind invitation they took with good £ rjtce ; But soon found the depth of your trick : vfour cruiskeen of whiskey was thrown in your face, ' d they styled you a limb of Old Nick. Should you ever again visit Ballinasloe, Beware, lest your treatment be rough ;— Your skull would uo doubt bear a very hard blow, But shillelaghs ill Conuaught are tough. At the period referred to in the foregoing lines', this airy bachelor had not acquired the right to he denominated " a man of letters:" be then held the less classical, though to him, probably, more lucrative situation of steward, 011 the estate of a gentleman whose lands lay contiguous to the town of which he was now the postmaster, and his excursions to Hallinasloe were not inconsistent with his- calliug, inasmuch as lie was sometimes sent there by his employer, to dispose of cattle at the great October fair, lu this gentleman's mansion he first met with the lady who afterwards became his bride. She had for several years acted as housekeeper in the family, and being a good economist, had scraped together such a sum ashiade her appear not only chaiming, but irresistibly so in the eyes of the steward, who shortly after his appointment to the post- office, declared his inability to live without her, and warmly solicited to be favoured with her baud. Whether the lady was fair and fat, or the reverse of both, this history sayeth not; but her age was certainly forty, if not more, when she consented to take ihe postmaster for better or worse, perhaps for worse altogether, as the case might be. On the morning of the bridal day, the townspeople felt 110 trifling degree of amazement at seeing their postmaster attired in a new blue coat, with gilded buttons, and doe- skin breeches of the finest material— the latter garment could not have been purchased at a lower price than three half guineas, for which reason those who knew him best believed he had suddenly taken leave of his senses. About mid- day, committing the care of the post- office to a bare- legged garsoon, in whose fidelity he had some confidence, lie silly stole off to a locality four miles dis- tant, where the ladv's friends were domiciled. Here the nuptial knot was firmly tied, and having paitaken of the good cheer provided by the bride's relations, he conveyed bet under the envelope of darkness to his own dwelling, congratulating himself on the secrecy and circumspection he had observed throughout the undertaking. The bride retired to bed, but her liege lord had still to arrange some matters of too great importance to be entrusted to a de- puty ;— the letters were to be assorted and placed in the mail- bags, that Ihey might be iu readiness for transmis- sion by the night coach. He therefore set about the task, made up the bags, and placed them on a chair by his bed- side ; then divesting himself of his finerv, he folded up his doeskins with the greatest care, and followed the ex- ample of his bride, lest his longer absence should cause her to doubt the fervency of bis attachment, it was his intention to get up about the time when the Coacli might be expccted to arrive -, but, alas! an hour of bliss flits speedily away, and the sound of the horn reached his ears at an ill- timed moment. He leaped out of bed, and en- deavoured to procure a light;— unfortunately his box of Lucifers had been mislaid, and while he groped about in search of it, the second, and by fai the most disagreeable blast of the horn vibrated ou the air. Impelled by a dread that the coach would depart without the bags, he instantly snatched ihem up, hurried out ofthe house', and deliveied them in the manner already related. No Dublin corporator Cuuld have looked more aghast when the god of his idolatry, the leaden image of Glen- coe's murderer, was blown into smithereens by the agency of a modern powder plot; uo, nor even when the Bill of Corporate Reform passed into a law, than did the bride- groom when he returned shivering to his apaitment, and stumbled in the dark over something which he felt con- vinced was one of ihe letter- hags. How was this to be accounted for ? Had he not reckoned the hags himself ? and had not the guard proclaimed them " all right ?" He now used his utmost ingenuity to obtain a light, and at leugth succeeded. Horror of horrors 1— the cold perspira- tion onzed from all his pores, and stood in large drops upon his wrinkled forehead, as he discovered that he had mistaken his doeskin breeches for the Galway post- hag, and sent them away in his stead. Be danced about the room in an agony of despair, and terrified the bride by the vehemence and variety of his curses. She attempted to console him ; but her efforts were futile, only serving to extract from him a fresh volley of imprecations. The first outbreak of his fury having subsided, he began to reflect ihat on the arrival of the coach at its destination, the let- ters would be missed, and, as a matter of course, hes'onld be dis- missed- from his situation, a thought that affected him still more deeply than the loss of bis beloved doe- skins. He therefore, resolved to set out instantly in pur- suit of the coach, hoping, with the assistance of fleet horses, to overtake it in a couple of hours. No time was to be lost. He jumped into his duck trousers with the agility of an Harlequin, threw on his remaining apparel as if tossing hay with a pitchfork, and supplying himself with money to defray his expenses, he departed, leaving the bride to reconcile bersell to his absence in the best manner she could. His next proceeding was to awaken some ofhis neigh- bours, from whom he might hire a horse;— and witli much difficulty he succeeded in obtaining one. Being a tolerable rider, aud not ill- mounted, he contrived, in de- fiance of wind and - weather, to make great progress in the first hour or iwo; but the delays lie afterwards ex- perienced in arousing the ostlers at the different stages where he wished to engage fresh horses, prevented him from lessening much the distance. between him and the object of his pursuit. The coach siill kept the advantage it hao gained ; namely, that of being five miles in advance of him. So last aud furiously he rode, that his feats ot horsemanship might vie w ith those of John Gilpin or Tam o'Shanter— the anxiety of his mind keeping pace with his apparent chances of failure or success. On bis arrival in Atlilone, he had the satisfaction to learn at the post- office there, that the coach had been gone scarcely half an hour. He now redoubled his efforts ; but in crossing the bridge of that town, which forms the grand communication be- tween the provinces of Leinster and Coiinaiight, his bat was blown off by ihe wind, aud borne away 011 the waters of ihe mighty Shannon : this was a mishap that might have led to serious consequences, had he not fortunately when leaving home neglected to take off his red Vollen night- cap, merely pulling his hat down over it, to which circumstance his head was now indebted for a comfortable protection. The night wore slowly and heavily awav; the gray dawn of morliiiig shed its influence over the misty atmosphere ; and though i< brought 110 respite to his toil, lie hailed its appearance with a faiut degree of pleasurable emotion, as the light enabled him to catch occasional glimpses of the coach, but so far off, that, notwithstanding all bis exertions, he was unable to come up with it, until it had fairly got into the town of Galway. It was now nearly eleven o'clock, ami the streets were thronged by numbers in the exercise of their various avi cations. The coach entered ttie town with its usual speed, followed at some distance by its almost exhausted pursuer. So strange an apparition could not fail toattiact Ihe notice of the good people of Galway :— the wildness of his looks and gestures— his weather- beaten figure— the lapid pace to which he urged the animal that bore him along— but, above all, bis tanciful head- dress were mat- ters of wonder and speculation. They ran after him, shouting and hallowing with all their might; and the space in front of the post- office was soon thronged by a most uproarious assemblage. The astonishment of the coachman and guard, at beholding the post- master in Mich a trim, and seventy miles distant from the place where they had supposed him to be, was gieat indeed ; but it was far exceeded by ihe merriment that ensued, when he explained the cause of his journey, rectified his mistake, by handing in the letter bag, and laid claim 10 his unlucky doeskins. Loud peals of laughter burst from the bye- Standers, and many a joke was bandied about at his ex- pense ; all which he bore in sullen resignation, deriving some consolation from the idea that he had achieved his purpose, pr serving at the same time bis breeches and his situation. and together with some excellelit vocal imitations of the yells and screams peculiar to Ihe four- footed and feather- ed tribes of creation, formed a concert, such as Handel or Mozart in their most inspired and extatic moments never dreamed of producing. Well may poets assert, that " Music has charms to soothe the savage breast, To soften rocks, and bend the knotted oak 1" aye, and with the iame regard to truth, might they add, " To coax the miser's money from his chest, And make ail author's chimney send forth smoke. Its effect in the present C'se was to induce the perse- cuted bridegroom to beat a parley, and the musicians in- sisting that a less sum than five pounds would not afford thetn the means of emptying bumpers equal in number to their good wishes towards himself and bride, lie reluc- tantly parted with that sum, first expressly stipulating that he should immediately see the seams of their stockings, aud be exempted hearing any more of their diabolical caterwauling. Often since that period has he wished that he could as easily get rid of his matrimonial bargain, for not many days had elapsed ere bis wife asserted her right to wear the breeches, hot indeed In the literal accepta- tion of tiie term, but according to the figurative sense ap- plied to the words by Doctor Johnson. And, as if to per- petuate the memory of his ludicrous, though costly mis- take, every night from that time to the present has it been tecalled 10 his miud hy the warning voice of the guard croaking in his ears, " Take care you don't give me the doeskins!" Such were the early peregrinations and ad- ventures of " The Doeskin Breeches."— Such the disas- trous results of" The Postmaster's Wedding Night." was a way Of pioving crimes, by immersing the body or arm in hot water, called Trial, or Purgation, by Boiling Water, hi the judgment by boiling water, Ihe accused, or be who personated the accused, was obliged lo put his naked arm into a cauldron of boiling watei', and to draw out a stone there placed, at a greater or less depth, accord- ing to the quality of the crime. This done, the arm was wrapped up, and the judge set his seal upon ihe cloth, and at the end of three days they return to view it; when, if it were found without any scald, the accused was de clared innocent. Marbillon will have this cetenioiiy to have been introduced by Pope Eugemus II., in lieu of niakiug oath with the hand laid upon ihe relict of some saint: which, having been abused, was prohibited hy In- nocent 111., at the council of Laterati. F. Daniel', in his history of Fiance, relates the following account of Tlicot- berue, Wife of Lnfhiac, ot France : — Having been accused of incest, before marriage, with her brother, Duke Her- bert. As she could not be convicted by any witnesses, certain of the bishops were consulted as to the manner iu which the judges should proceed in an affair, where the ciime, though dubious, did dishonour to the king. The bishops WtfFe of opinion that they should have recourse to the proof by boiling water, which consisted in this— The accused, to prove her innocence, should plunge her baud into a basin of boiling water, and take out a ling therein Sometimes they substituted a person to make the trial instead of the accused. Accordingly, the lank and quality TO CORRESPONDENTS. The Proprietors » /" THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES," have the pleasure to announce to their numerous Readers, that they have succeeded in making arrangements with the popular Author of " ELA, THE OUTCAST; OR, THE GIPSY GIRL OF ROSEMARY DEIL,'' " 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. JOSEPH. ( Manchester), and J. BURT, arrived too late. T. A. L.— Any respectable bookseller will inform you. J A VIES PARKINS.—" THE M- EDICAL GUIDE" is discon- tinued. HF. NRY W.— The deeply interesting nautical romance of " GALLANT TOM," will be completed in two more numbfrs. X. Y. B. is accepted. W. WELSH.— Your Charade shall appear. Declined : " SIRIUS." J. D., ( Glasgow), \ We are sorry did not reach us in time. " THE DEATH OF BOADICEA," is excellently written, but we regret that it is too long ; and we cannot con- tinue poems. The author is requested to accept our best thanks, and we hope to hear from him again. We are obliged to X. Y. Z. We should be happy to receive the Comic Tales mentioned, by " A TYPOGRAPHER." The answer to the Charade did not come to hand in time. " VERGES," is a very dissatisfied sort of person, and evidently possesses about as much brains as would fill a nut- shell. We could not answer our valued correspondent, J. DIL- LON, in our last, our paper having gone to the machine when it reached us. We thank him heartily for his kindness, and should be glad to hear from him every ueek. The Charades he favoured us with were inserted, one in No. 22, and the other in 23. J. E. P's. letter is placed on the file for insertion. doomed to be disappointed— nothing but solid masonry met her eyes in whatever direction they were turned, and she was about lo yield once more to all t'ae horrors of black despair, when she observed something shining upon the floor at uo great distance from where she stood. Stoopyng to ascertain what this was, she per- ceived an iron ring, evidently placed there for the pur- pose of raising a trap duoi. and seizing hold of iliis, she found, 110 less lo her pleasure than surprise, that it was to be moved w ilh more ease than she had at first anti- cipated. Inspired, ihereJote, with fresh courage, she applied bolli hands to the task of raising what she fondly believed to be the only barrier to her escape. In a few moments the trap yielded to her efforts, but ihe gust of confined air that now rushed through the aperture had nearly extinguished her lamp, and thu9 rendered futile all the labour she had been at. " Someh h i I warned by this circumstance, Rebecca ad- vanced cautiously towards the opening in Ihe floor, and, with the aid of her lamp, discovered a flight of broken steps that led into a dark and chilly vault beneath. Undismayed, however, by the frightful scene before her, she commenced her descent slowly and cautiously, and on reaching the bottom of the steps, she found her- self in a rude chamber, which, from certain appear- ances, was, no doubt, a subterranean dungeon intended of Theotherge excusing her from making Ihe trial htrsell, ! for the place of imprisonment for those who chanced to The title ofthe New Romance by MR. T. BREST, Author ofthe successful anil popular tales of• F.'. A, THE OUT- CAST ; OR, THE GIPSY OF ROSEMARY DELL," " AN- GELINA ; OR, THE MYSTERY OF ST. MARK'S ABBEY," GALLANT TOM," & C., & C., will he duly an- nounced. JAMIE'S ( Glasgow), Riddle may be very good, but the poetry is execrable. W. STEVENS, JOSEPH MORRIS, and " JUVENILIS," are declined. " FLORINGTON," ( Sunderland.) 7he numbers you men- tion are out of print. MR. JOHN KNOTT'S suggestion shall be attended to. We return him many thanks. We shall be most happy lo hear frequeutly from MR. G. E. Gums. CHARLES STANLEY, ( Manchester), J. S. MATHEWS, J. S., L. B., and W. WRIGHT, are accepted. We think " FANTOCCINI," can do better things than " BARTHOLOMEW FAIR," we should therefore like to hear from him again. B. R.— Fourteen Monthly parts of " ELA, THE OUT- CAST" are published, and may be had of all booksellers in town and country. Accepted : " A VISIT TO A DEBTOR'S PRISON," one ofthe Charades by THOMAS HUGHES. ( Chester,), KATE MC LUCKIE, ( Glasgow). J. M ARSDEN. — We cannot answer your question at pre- sent. S. CEWD, will not suit, but let him try again. We will insert the Enigma by T. SPRING, but answers to the Charades have already appeared. We will insei t the communications of J. C. K., C. W. WHITE, and the Charade by J. S. We are glad to hear again from S. P., and. should be happy to receive, a second chapter of " RECOLLECTIONS OF BOYHOOD." Many other letters uill be answered next week. %* All communications to be addressed ( post paid) to the Editor ot THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, 30, Curtain Road, Shoreditch. THE PENNY PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE. she chose a man to do it for her, who, either from zeal for the life and honour of the princess, or for money, siood the test, and drew out his band and the ring without harm. Awful Death of Charles the Bad, King of Navarre.— The following account of the death of Charles the Bad, king of Navarre, at Pampeluna, in the year 13K6, is from a manuscript copy of Froissart's Chronicle, in the British Museum. That entertaining writer gives the following account of the catastrophe : The kyng being dysappointed in his determination to lay on his subjects greater taxes than they could beare, confined his council closely in a room together, in h are of their lives ; and it was supposed that by constraint he had his desire, for lie strake off thre of the heedes of such as were most contrary to his entente, to give ftare and example to others. Then there fell a marvellous adven- ture, the which God sent like a myracle. This kvng of Naver well loved women, and had a fayre damosel to his lover, lor he was a wydower a long season. Ou a nyght be lay with her a space, and then retouriied to his chamber in a fever, and said to his servantes, " Dre- se my bedde, fori wyll rest me a season," and so went to his bedde, and try 111 bled for cold, and could take 110 heate. He was an aged man, about threscore yeares of age, and his bed was wont to be chafed with a bason with hot coles, to make him swet, which often tyines be used, and it dyd hyln 110 hurte. At this time his servautes dyd the saifle< but as God wolde, or the devyll, a burnynge flame toke the sbetes, in suche mauer, that before he could be reskejved, he was burnt to the bowels, he being so wrapped be- twene the shetes. He lyve fyftene days after, in great payne and mysery, so that neither physicke nor surgery could help him, but that he dyed," Villaret's account of the transaction, which follows, was collected from various historians and records, to which he had access: it is somewhat moie circumstantial than that of Froissart, from which it differs in some par- ticulars :— " One cannot help being struck witli the tragical death of the king of Navarre, and acknowledging iu it the traits of an" invisible and terrible justice, i bis prince, whose memory is disgraced by a variety of crimes, being addicted from his youth to all the excesses of intemper- ance, was overtaken by the infirmities of premature old age, for at his death he was hardly fifty- six. Ti; quicken his blood, by excessive indulgence in pleasure, almost frozen in his veins, he bad recourse 10 art; but the facti- tious heat be procured, completed the ruin of his strength, which declined daily. In Ibis state he us » d to wrap him- self in a cloth dipped in spirit of wine, the effect of which he had proved in recruiting his vigour. One night, after leaving a woman whom lie was fluid of to excess, he or- dered his accustomed remedy to be prepared. The ser- vant who sewed hiui up, instead of cutting the thread, had tiie imprudence to apply a lighted candle to it. Tne flame instantly communicated itself to the cloth, and all the king's efforts to extricate himself from i! were fruit- less. His cries were dreadful;— the fire penetrated and devoured all parts of his body, without a possibility of helping him, till the cloth impreenated with the spiritu- ous liquor was entirely consumed. He lived three days in incredible torments, praying incessantly fur the arrival of death, too slow for his pains. According 10 Frois* » rt, lie lived fifteen days iu this horrible state. Itis difficult not to indulge in suspicions 011 the tragical death of this monarch. How came it that his domestics could not extinguish the flames ? Was he so detested that not one of them vvas interested about his preservation ? Be this as it, may, so terrible a catastrophe must suggest tn the reader a number of reflection." Remarkable Instance of Longevity.— A Negress, died on Ihe 14th of February, 1813, at St. Johns, Antigua, a black woman, named Statira, who, by information by herself; must have attained the advanced ago of one hundred and thirty- two, or a hundred . and thirty- four. She was a slave, and was hired as a day- la bourer, during the building of Ihe gaol, and was pre- sent at the laying of the corner- stone, which ceromony took place a hundred and sixteen years ago. She also stated she was a young woman grown, when President Sliarpe assumed Ihe administration of the island, which was in 1106; so that, allowing her then to be only eighteen, it brings her age to that of 131. As it was ansolutely needful that he should be at home that evening in time to fulfil the customary duties of his office, he swallowed a hasty breakfast, purchased a hat to supply the place of that he had lost, aud again betook him- self to the road. He reached his house about nine at night, excessively fatigued, ai d heavy at heart, though his purse was lighter, if not by ten pounds avoirdupoise, at least by ten pounds lawful money of Great Britain, than it had been at the moment ofhis departure. And here, as if he had not already been wearied enough in body and mind, another trial awaited his fortitude :— the secret of his marriage had taken wind, and the country people had congregated beneath his windows, to testify their approval of the match, by giving a serenade to the newly- married couple. A number of musical instruments, consisting of cracked fiddles, pothooks, gridirons, old kettles, sow- gelders, horns, and the like, had been put in requisition, At. the request of numerous readers, the Editor this week resumes his scraps and fragments from bis old portfolio. The Royal Household of King Henry Fill.—' Vine fol- lowing regulations for the household ol King Henry VIII., while ihey strikingly contrast. lhe simplicity of those times with tins splendour of the present, will call forth a smile from the reader, at. the curious nature of some of the pro- hibitions, and the homely manner in which tlivy are ex- pressed. " His Highness's baker shall not put allum in the bread, or mix nei oals, or bean- flour in the same; if detected, he shall be put ill the stocks.— His Highness's attendants are not to steal any locks and keys, tables, forms, cup- boards, or other furniture out of noblemen or gentlemen's houses that they go to visit. Master cooks shall not em - ploy such scullions as go about naked, or lie all night 011 the floor before the kitchen fire. No dogs are to be al- lowed in Court, but only a few spaniels for the ladies.— Dinner to be at ten, and supper at four.— The officers of his Highness's Privy Chamber shall be loving together; 110 grumbling, nor tajking of the king's pastime.— The king's barber is enjoined 10 be cleanly, and not frequent the company of misguided women, for fear of danger to the royal person.— There shall be no romping with the maids 011 the staircases, by which dishes and other things are frequently broken.— Care shall betaken of the wooden spoons, and that the pewter in the kitchen be not stolen or broken.— The pages shall not interrupt the maids; and he that gets one of them with child, shall pay a fine of two marks to his Highness, and have bis allowance of beer withheld for one mouth.— The grooms shall not steal his Highness's straw for beds. Coals only lo be allowed to the king's, queen's and Lady Maiy's chambers.— The brewer is not to put any brimstone into, the ale.— Ordered, that all the noblemen and gentlemen, at the end of the sessions of Parliament, depart to their respective counties, on pain ofthe royal displeasure." Trial by Moiling Water,— Among our ancestors, there REVIEW. THE HEBREW MAIDEN; OR, THE LOST DIAMOND; by the Author of " Fatherless Fanny," published in Weekly Numbers, at One Penny, and Monthly Parts, at Fourpence. London :— LLOYD, 44-, Holywell Street, and 30, Curtain Road.— This new Romance, the first number of which vvas Presented Gratis to every pur- chaser of the PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, promises fair to surpass aM the former etlbrts. of the author. We present our readers with the following specimen :— " Left to herself, Rebecca gave free vent to the tor- rent of her griefs, and weeping at the miseries she would yet have to undergo, she threw herself upon her knees, and uttered fervent prayers to the Maker of Ihe universe for protection for herself and father. Some- what restored to firmness by these holy aspirations, she next began 10 think whether there was no way of escaping from her prison, c- re the morning's dawn should tender such an attempt abortive. With the eagerness of newly awakened hope, she snatched the lamp from the table, and searched round the gloomy chamber, but here all appeared to defy any attempt that might be made, and with a sigh, she was again yielding herself lo despair, when the torn and delapi- dated condition of the tapestry in one part of the room, convinced her that a door somewhere thereabout would in all probability conduct her to some other part ot the edifice, which had no « v become her prison. Full of this idea, she hastily threw aside the hangings wIiich concealed the wall, and on passing the light of her lamp over the place, she at length to her inexpressible joy, beheld the object she had so anxiously sought for. Un- fortunately, however, the door was locked in the inside, and she was about once more to give way to despair, when a sudden gust of wind forced it so violently against the lock as almost to burst it off its rusty hinges. This again revived her drooping spirits,- and with au effort of desperation, she exerted all her strength against the frail work, and presently afterwards, to her extreme joy, tlilj door grudually gave way, and she beheld before her another chamber, whose darkness forbade her ascertaining correctly either its peculiar use, or to what other part of the place it might lead. " But situated as she was, Rebecca summoned up all her resolution, and resolving to escape or perish in the attempt, she once more grasped the lamp, and stepping boldly forward, she examined, as accurately as the light would permit her, the dark anil dreary apartment in which she thus found herself. By its octangular shape, she could plainly enough perceive that it be- longed to one of the turrets which she had ohseived when conducted by the page across the court yard, and taking courage from the success that had so favoured her, she next began to look around the walls to discover whether there was no place of egress by which she might continue her flight. In this, however, she was fall under Ihe displeasure of the haughty lord of Hie mansion. " The walls were rugged, asif hewn out of the rock, and the flooring so uneven that it was with difficulty our heroine could make her way from one part of the place to another without beiog precipitated over the numerous obstacles that met her footsteps at every turn. Again she had to search about for some place of * exit from this wretched place, and it was not until she had searched long and laboriously that her light at length fell upon a small aperture in the wall near the ground, but so low was this rough place of communica- tion, that it wf, s impossible lo pass into the nextcliamber without crawling on the hands and knees. Resolved not to be thwarted by any obstacles, Rebecca stooped to pass onwards, but as she did so, she beheld in the small passage, through which she had to make her way, numerous loads, lizards, and other crawling reptiles, which seemed to have assembled themselves together for the purpose of opposing her further progress to- wards escape. Shuddering at the sight of these filthy vermin, she started back for a moment unable to con- quer her repugnance; but again she remembered how much depended upon her resolution, she hurriedly made her way through Ihis loathsome barrier. " Rebecca now found herself in a larger and more lofty- chamber than any she had yet passed through. Indeed the feeble light of her lamp was insufficient to penetrate deep shades of darkness with which she was op every side surrounded, and for a few moments, she paused, uncertain which way to direct her steps. But when she remembered the dangers that threatened her unless a desperate effort was made to escape from the stronghold of her foe, she once more continued her way, and paused not until the rugged wall ofthe dun- geon effectually resisted her further progress. By this timelier lamp, the oil of which vvas nearly consumed, gave but loo'evident signs of speedily expiring, and thus depriving her of the trifling assistance its feeble flame had thus far afforded. Hurrying round the dun- geon, therefore, she eagerly looked for some place of egress, but though she had performed more than half the circuit of the chamber, she had hitherto discovered no sign of any communication with any other cell. At length, however, she perceived a door thickly studded with large nails, whose massive iron heads seemed to defy any attempts that might be made to force a pas- sago, whilst Ihe portal itself remained fastened on the inside. Upon more closely examining the heavy portal she found that it was secured by a spring- lock, which, after some time had been spent in endeavouring ( a dis- cover the secret by which the door might be opened, she had the morlfiication to find still defeated all her efforts to Secure her retreat from this place. In her despair, however, Rebecca, still continued to pass her hand over the rough surface of Ihe portal, and in Ihe end vvas rewarded by finding that what appeared to be one of the iron- headed nails, yielded to the touch. De- 5 lighted at this discovery, she pressed her finger more vigorously on the part, and to her extreme gratifica- tion, the door flew open with a sudden bound, leaving her at liberty to proceed onwards on her way to liberty. " By the faint light w ith which she was supplied, our hei^ ine could perceive lliat this dungeon possessed more architectural pretensions than any of llle others through which she had passed. The massive pillars, and the low semi- circular arches proclaimed the era to which this pari of the edifice Owed its origin, and from a quantity of straw with which the place was littered, if was pretty evident that the chamber had been used at some period or other, as a prison to one of those un- fortunate beings who had fallen under lire displeasure of the lord of the castle. Rebecca shuddered as she reflected upon the miseries ( hat had been endured in this lone spot, and she w ould have passed h urriedly forward, but by ibis time her lamp vvas nearly extin- guished, and it vvas only with extreme caution, that she was able lo move about from one part of tile place to another. Alt within was as silent as tile grave, but on the outside of this cheerless dungeon she could bear the ceaseless roar of a terrific tempest, whose violence shook even the strong masonry of which the castle was constructed. Eicli moment, too, the feeble light of her lamp threw a fainter beam around, and in spite of all her efforts to resuscitate the expiring flame, it become but too evident that ere long she would be left to perish in a place from whence site saw but little proba- bility of escaping. " Rendered desperate by the hopelessness of her situ- ation, Rebecca now strode fearfully round the dungeon, and perceiving what appeared to be a narrow passage leading to an inner ceil, she vyas hurrying towards it, when her foot struck against something, and lowering her lamp to discover what it was that impeded her . pro- gress, she beheld, to her horror, a skeleton seated upon the ground, and chained to one of the pillars to which, as a prisoner, he had been secured during the unhappy moments of his captivity. At Ihe same moment too, the door behind was closed with a heavy sound, and thus was all retreat cut off, and the hapless maiden found herself shut up in a living tomb, with the hideous object that had before met her view. Terror- stricken, Rebecca sank fainting on tile floor,— her lamp was ex- tinguished, and thus was she left fo perish in the dark- some dungeon, which had already became the grave of the miserable captive, whose bones lay scattered and bleaching ou the ground." AN EQUESTRIAN AMATEUR.— It is soon very obvious to the motley group assembled on Blackheath that the gentleman is quite a novice in horsemanship, this being, probably, his first essay in ihe art. Ho appears to maintain his equilibrium with some difficulty ; and 110 wonder, for one stirrup is considerably longer than the oilier. He dismounts, but finds it impossible to remedy the defect. Again assuming his sent, conscious that many eyes behold his equestrian performances, and that he is " the observed of all observers," he summons up new courage, and actually gets Rosinante into a brisk tret— when all at once the creature stumbles in a deep rut, and pitches his rider over his head. Two or three seconds suffice to restore the little man to his legs.— More frightened than hurt, he looks round for his bet- ter half, who has been anxiously watching his move- ments, and who now hastens towards him. A shout of laughter and derision assails him on all sides. Never mind, he will at least find consolation from his affec- tionate partner in life. " Whatafool you are, Jenkins," exclaims the latter, on approaching him; " the older you get, the more ridiculous you make yourself. I told you some accident would happen !" The owner of" the horse, also, with a broad grin, gently reptehends him in the following terms :—" You don't often ride, sir— should ave kept his ed veil up, and it him vith the stick, jest to keep him alivel" " Who larned you to ride ?" " Does your mother know you're out ?" and si- milar other contemptuous expressions of the bystanders greel his ears in all directions.— A Summer's Day at Greenwich, THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE- 1 ANGELINA I Oft, THE MYSTERY OF ST. MARK'S ABBEY. AN ORIGINAL ROMANCE. AUTHOR OF LILA, THE OUTCAST ; GIPSY OF ROSEMARY DELL, & C. ( Continued from our last.) CHAPTER XXI. A BOAT was waiting under the rock, the approach of Hugh Clifford and big companions, into which they stepped, and th^ men quickly plving their oars, it scudded over '. he vast deep with the speed of lightning, and they so< m were all safe on hoard the smuggler's vessel. ^ a An^'. Hnn felt timid at first, when she found herself rounded by the rough and hardy smugglers, but a '. ook from Hugh Clifford, and the respect with which Ihey all treated her, soon re- assured her, and with a heart overflowing with gratitude lo her deliverer, she suffered herself to be conducted by the captain, fol- lowed by her uncle, to a very handsomely fitted- up cabin; in which refreshments were already prepared. Hitherto our heroine had had very little opportunity to express her joy at her restoration to liberty, and her thanks to those who hadfteen iH< cause of it, but un- able any longer to restrain her feelings, she now threw herself into her uncle's arms, and in a transport of dehght, wept upon his bosom. Oh my dear uncle," she cried, " what bitter anguish yoH must have suffered at my mysterious disappear- ance;— my poor aunt, too, and Laura, were they not in a dreadful state of alarm ?— Oh, yes, 1 know ihey must have been; I shall never— never be able to re- pay you for rescuing me from the terrible fate with which f was threatened." " Nay, my love, to this gentleman, and to the myste- rious woman of St. Mark's Abbey, your gratitude is principally due," observed Mr. Woodfteld, " for with- out them, I might still have remained in ignorance of your concealment, and even after I had obtained that knowledge, I should have lacked the power to release you." Angelina turned her eyes, beaming with sensibility and thankfulness upon the handsome countenance of ihe smuggler captain, and while deep blushes of maiden modesty dyed her cheeks, she said in a lone of sweet- ness vvlucli went immediately to the heart, and seemed to hold it captive in its fascination :— ' 1 do, indeed, thank this gentleman, and I trust that ne Will do me the justice to believe that I entertain s toll sense of his kindness, not only upon this occasion, hut once before, when he saved me from the power of • the Baron de Morton." The fine expressive eyes of Hugh CliffoTd sparkled vviln more than usual brilliancy, and he appeared to hang upon every. word which escaped the lips of Ange- lina with extacy ; at ihe same time an indefinable feel- ing came over her heart, and she trembled with agita- tion, as Hugh gracefully bent one knee, and respect- fully pressing her band t « his tlps, , hu* ejaculated • — " Fair lady, Hugh Clifford considers these t| ie hap- piest moments of his life, in which he has been rendered instrumental in saving you from danger. Your smile more than repays him, and he trusts that time will prove lhat he is not undeserving of a continuance of your friendship." Angelina could not make any reply, but her looks spoke more than words could possibly have done. • Never had she gazed upon a more handsome or noble- looking inrtti; never bad she listened to sweeter words, or expressed with greater delicacy. Could it be pos- that he had always been used to the lawless life lie lv< » s thon in ?— Oh, no, she could not believe that he had been ; some heavy misfortunes had driven him to it, and in this opinion, ihe account of Bridget con- firmed her. Involuntarily she sighed, and turned to- wards Mr. Wo, oilfield. The vessel had been got under weigh immediately after they had gone on boar d, and as she rapidly par- sued her course from the Grey Tower, Angelina began to reel more composed, and partook of the refreshments provided, after which, at Ihe request of Mr. Wood, field, she gave a minute detail of all lhat had happened to her Since her abduction. The indignation • { her uncle at the recital of the baron's vitlany may readily be imagined, and lie dwelt with breathless impatience upon every word she uttered. The narrative no less excited bis as ornament than his wrath, and he fre- quently Interrupted her bv giving utterance lo an ex- pression of Ins w,, nder and perplexity. When she re- lated ihe particulars of her losing Ihe locket, and the conversation she had overheard between Rufus and Be Morton, in ,| lu seCret chamber, he evinced considerable emo .1011, and for some minutes paced the cabin with ,!'. sty aud uneven steps, as if buried in deep meditation ; at intervals muttering incoherent sentences to himself; at length turning tft our heroine, he said :— " 1 am perfectly at a loss to conceive what can be the baron's motives for such extraordinary and violent Conduct; — he must be labouring under some singular delusion,. and his behaviour looks more like lhat of a madman lhan anything else; at any rate I am deter- mined to have a full explanation of it, and to take such measures as shall secure you in future from his fury." " But my dearest uncle," observed Angelina, " after the repealed circumstances thai I have encounteied ; the conduct of the baron, and the words that have been told me by— by another party, I cannot help thinking that there is some mystery attached to my Birth, which you have particular reasons for conceal- ' ng." " Mystery!" repeated Mr. Woodfield, in a confused manner, " what mean you— what mysierv should there be p—' Pslia !— You are talking absurd, my love. And pray, what have you been told by some other party, and who is the said parly, whose name you seem so fearful of disclosing ?" Angelina mentioned the warning she had received from Kate of the ruins, the first time she had encoun- tered her, but concealed her name, and likewise where it had taken place. " Nay." said her uncle, " this is not like my Ange- lina; why should you be so fearful of revealing to me the name of the person who gave you this important in- lormation 1" " Pardon me, my dear uncle," remarked our heroine, but I must not." Mr. Woodfield seemed vexed and dissatisfied, and re maincd silent for a short time. " This is ridiculous,' tis childish ;"— at length he said;—" You hav been perusing some old romances, until— but let us change the subject.' 1 •> They now walked upon Ihe deck. It was a boauti ful starlight night, and the moon shed her broad beams upon the undulating mirror, reflecting a myriad of dazzling beauties. The light sails fluttered genlly in the breeze, which came pure and refreshing across the expansive ocean, while the vessel smoothly glided on her way, skimming over the waves with the iightness of a zephyr. As her eye fell upon the sturdy figure of some old smuggler, standing in the reflection fcf the moon beams, and smoking his short black pipe,— with his huge dark whiskers, and strongly lined features; Angelina could not help feeling powerfully the novelty of her situation, and then her thoughts would imme- diately revert to Hugh Clifford, and the degrading life in which one so well calculated lo adorn any society, was placed by some untoVvaid fate ; attd to say lhat these thoughts were not accompanied by a feeling of deep regret, would be concealing the truth. Soon after our heroine and her uncle had been upon ihe deck, they were joined by Hugh, and they enlered into a discourse upon different topics, iu each of which, he displayed intellectual and conversational powers of ( he highest order, and Angelina listened with the most uncontrollable pleasure to all lhat he said. " Yours must be a precarious life, sir," remarked Mr. Woodfield, and it is oae which is surrounded by danger ; — pardon me, 1 wish not to appear inquisitive, but I cannot help thinking that it must have been some very strange and unfortunate circumstance^ lhat could have driven a person like you 10 such a calling." " Ay," replied Hugh, with a sigh, " young as I am, I have had my share of trouble ;— bul no matter— it is all over now, and the secret belongs to my own breast alone — As for this life, which you seem to entertain but such an indifferent opinion of, sir,— it suits my nature;— I am wedded to it— I love it as a patriot loves his country ;— and my gallant barque here, dearly as a parent loves his child. Many a rough gale has she borne me safely through; and many— many a golden harvest has she. conveyed me to shore, her and 1 will never part company till one or the other of us is laid low." There was a fine manly energy and sincerity in the smuggler's lone and general demeanour, which could not but create the deepest, interest and admiration, and Angelina marked all he said with the strictest at- tention. Mr. Woodtield seemed to be no less pleased with his companion than was our heroine, and ihej. con. tinued to converse together, heedless of the flight of time. In the course of ihe evening, a circumstance took place, which confused Angelina greatly, and occasioned her considerable uneasiness. The miniature, which be- longed to Hugh, and which she had ever since, for safely, continued to wear in her bosom, accidentally fell mil, and the smuggler observed it. In a moment an expression of pleasure illumined his features, which the blushing Angelina could not but understand, and she hastily concealed it from his view. She would have restored it to liim, but she was restrained by motives of delicacy, for she did not wish her uncle to become acquainted with the event which had placed it in her possession. Time passed quickly away, and the conversation was kept up between Hugh Clifford and Mr, Wood- field with unabated animation. Hugh was eloquent upon every subject, and every sentence he uttered evinced a fine and highly- cultivated tasle. When An- gelina ventured to put forth an opinion, he secined enraptured, and if by chance their eyes met, there was a warmlh, an intensity in his glances which plainly showed the interest she had excited in his bosom. It was lale when they separated lor the night, and Angelina was then not at all disposed to rest. She re- called to her memOry every word Hugh Clifford had spoken, and pondered over them with feelings of de- light and admiration, and two hours afler they had separated, found her looking with earnest attention upon the miniature which traced with such admirable correctness his handsome features. No sounds now met our heroine's ears save the heavy tread of the smuggler who was keeping walch upon the deck, or the dashing of the waves against the sides of' the vessel, and she was about to retire to repose, when the tones of a guitar, touched by a masterly hand, met her attention. A short, but . brilliant Symphony was played, and llien a rich and melodious voice, which she immediately knew to be that of the smuggler captain, sang the following words, to which she listened with unbounded gratification: — Sweet maid of the blue and the mild beaming eye, Oh, why for the col in the valley still sigh ? Haste with thy lover, across the blue sea, And who then so cheerful, so joyous as we ?— There is not a damsel ' inid fashion and pride, That shall happier be than the smuggler's bride. Oh, ' tis sweet, with a fav'ring breeze, To glide o'er the bright expansive seas ; But greater the pleasures I then should share, When thou, my own beauteous one, wert near. . Thou should')! reign the queen of the ambient tide, And many should bow to the smuggler's bridiL In my bonny barque we would stem ihe wave, And there is not a joy thou should'st not have, And thy radiant smile frould have the power, To nerve iny arm in danger's hour. Then come, o'er the ocean we'll gaily ride, And no care shall e'er sadden the smuggler's bride. The voice ceased, but our heroine continued to listen in imagination to its melodious tones, so delighted was she vvilli Ihe'svveetness oi' the air, and the exquisite man- ner ilVvansung. All, however, was now again quiet, and at length Angelina retired to rest, and soon sunk into sleep, pleasing visions flitting before her fancy until the morning dawned. All the following day were they upon the ocean, and time but increased the admiration of Mr. Woodfield and Angelina towards Hugh Clifford. He most studi- ously attended lo their comforts and seemed to possess no greater pleasure than that which could be found in their society. To Angelina he behaved with the strict- est attention, ahd she, in spite of her efforts to think to ihe contrary, felt, as they approached nearer and nearer towards the place of their destination, and the hour drew nigh that they must separate, that Hugh Clifford was to her not an object of indi Defence. It was night, and fhe moon hud risen, when the dis- tant and moss- covered ruins of St. Mark's Abbey rose dimly upon their sight. The vessel swifily stemmed ihe waves, until tire old abbey burst full upon their view, illumined by the broad moonbeams. ( To he Continued.) THE ICE ISLAND.* Masilcss, helmless, gaping at every seam, and groan- ing and crashing at every pitch over ihe rolling sulges, yet supported ah > vc the water by the buoyancy of ihe cargo, our miserable hark still struggled with ihe tem- pest. Sailors without further duty, and passengers wiihout further hope, were seen in various parts lashing themselves to the rigging, and commending their souls to heaven. 1( is always awful ( o die ; bu( when perishing in the unvisited solitudes of the deep, while the heavens and the seas are at war wit-, each other, and nature herself seems to encourage the anarchy of her elements, awe is swallowed up in a more subduing horror. It was night, too, and there was a moon in the sky, but it was co- vered and concealed by massy volumes of vapour, which enveloped the great abyss with impenetrable darkness. The uproar of the tempest such as may be recalled by those who have witnessed similar scenes Thunder that crashed, and rattled, and yelled through the firmament; winds lhat howled and whistled through the bleak air ; and billows that put forth their voices in a hoarse, harsh roar— made up the music of the tem- pest. A sudden dying away of the wind, and an unaccount- able tranquillity— a comparative tranquillity of the waters— filled our souls with transport; and many of us were expressing our joy with loud shouts and con- gratulations, when a voice, deep and hoarse, but thril- lingly distinct, exclaimed among us, " The Ice Is- lands 1" " The Ice glands! It is not so: it cannot be," replied a dozen trembling voices; " it cannot be the Ice Islands 1" " It is, it is !" replied the same hoarse, deep voice. A Hash of lightning, bright and universal, as if the * J! y Dr. R. M. Bird, an American writer; we quote from the Philadelphia Book, a specimen of ]~ r « an, ic literature, published at Philadelphia, whole sky were for an instant in a conflagration, re- vealed our situation to us. Masses of ice— ihe same that we had in ihe evening gazed upon with such plea- sure and admiration, stretched about us to the iiortl- west, rolling, and rocking in the waves : and near to us, very near to in, lowered a vast and tremendous bulk, like some gigantic mountain, with its citadels and towers, undermined and sent drifting about in the shoreless seas. The flash was but momentary, yet it was sufficient to fill us with horror; and after complete darkness had been restored, the dashing of the billows over these floating desolations was heard above the general roar of the tempest, ilong with the grinding and crashing of ihe fragments, as they struck against each otjier with a violence, which, on ihe solid laud, would have caused a shock like an earthquake. " We are under its lee !— it is upon us I" shouted a voice that rang like lie peal of a trumpet In our ears; and at the same instant another bright and wide spread flash discovered the tremendous object moving swiftly towards us. As if to increase Ihe horrors of the scene, the moon now burst through the clouds; and^ although the horizon around, cn all quarters, still remained in frighfnl gloom, a circumscribed central spot* embracing within its limits the terrific island, and the devoted ves- sel, now lay in a state of vivid illumination. There came the mighty desolation, its grand cathedral- like summits reflecting and refracting the lunar rays in many a wild and fantastic spectrum, and nodding to the force of the billows that drove it onwards. I possess but little of thit philosophic indifference of death, which is found ill some men : my fears distracted me. I remember nothing of the catastrophe but a loud, clamorous shock; a sinking of the broken deck; a whirling of Ihe watery chaos ) a wild and congregated shriek, so piercing, so horrible, that even fhe savage waves seemed to restrain their fury for an instant, to listen ; and then I sank insensible among the waters. I awoke as from a painful and hortid dream, dis- turbed by something striking with repealed blows Upon the back of my head— I lay on my face, and turhing sluggishly round, I vvas startled by the rushing of wings An albatross, or sea- eagle, or some fowl of the deep, darled with shrill cries before my vision. I put my hand to my head, it was bleeding and mangled. My limbs were stiff and sore, and in many places severely lacerated. I rose, and found myself in a hollow or cavern of the ice, the bottom of which was filled with fissures, under- neath which 1 could hear the rumbling and dashing of waves, and fearing lest this frail floor should give way and precipitate me again into the abyss, from which I had so providentially and mysteriously escaped, I crawled to the entrance of the Cavern. The sun was up; the waves were at rest, or rather was rolling onward Willi a regular and sluggish motion, scarcely sufficient to disturb the equilibrium of my icy floal. Where were my companions ? I shouted aloud ; nothing answered me ; Ihe silence of death was on my island. A harsh scream struck my ear. A bird of prey was hovering in the air a rod or two from me, and oc- casionally darling swiftly into a hollow of the ice, from which it issued again with wild cries. I approached Ihe spot. Before me lay the corpse of a young man, whose good humour and mirth had often, in dull and weary hours, enlivened the spirits of his fellow voy- agers. Although his body was dreadfully mangled, and his face contorted, and in some measure mutilated, by the voracious fowl, I soon recognised him, and for a moment endeavoured 10 please myself with the thought that he vvas not wholly dead. A black ribbon was hung rovind his neck ; I drew it forth, and discovered the miniature of a beautiful young woman. 1 wrapped it, together with his watch and pocket- book, in his neck- cloth, determining, if saved myself, to transmit them to his friends, as mournful me- mentos of his unhappy end. I " then lifted Ihe body in my arms, and approaching the brink of the ice, rolled it into the sea. I was now alone. Struck to Ihe heart with a feeling of loneliness and forlornness, 1 sat down, buried my face in my hands, aud gave myself up to despair. Why had not I perish- ed With my companions > A qniel grave at the bottom of the ocean, or In Ihe bowels of one of ocean's mon- sters, was preferable to this icy and living tomb. The love of life pievailed over despair. I rose upon mv feel, and looked around me for Ihe means of preserving my existence. I soon discovered, that in ilie vast mass of ice upon which I stood, there were em- bedded many fragments of roeks, trunks of trees, aud other substances, denoting ii lo have been formed on the shore of some distant land. Nothing, however, capable of satisfying hunger, Was to lie found. ? Jo frozen animal, nor lifeless bird, rewarded my search ; and having wandered painfully and laboriously about, wherever the asperities of the ice, or Ihe presence of some land object, afforded me a precarious footing, I at last reclined hopelessly upon a cloven pine- tree that projected from the ice. Above ine— for the berg vvas of great height— towered, in inexpressible gran- deur, cold and glittering pinnacles of pure and almost transparent ice. Below lay Ihe ocean, silent and cairn, presenting a surface souudless and unvaried. The day passed away wearily and monotonously: the night found me, and still I clung listlessly to the shattered pine. The moon rose— 1 have always loved the moon , and that night, while gazing upon her pure ' orb, now doubly solitary, and thinking of many friends with whom I had sat at myrtiwn vine- covered porch al- most adoring her peaceful loveliness— of many friends who might be, tli. it very hour in my own lost land, re- calling their memory of Ihe friend by gazing upon her again— I forgot for a time that I was alone, and a dweller 011 an ice- berg. " A rack Of clouds passed over her face ; I started— a sudden explosion, followed by a long and tieavy growl of thunder, admonished me of another tempest. I fastened my arms to a branch of the pine, while tbe winds rose, and covered Ihe moon and stars with black clouds. The ocean again was lashed to fury, and the foam of billow) dashing against Ihe sharp angles of the island, and snatched up by tbe winds, broke over nie in incessant showers. Il was some time before my floating habitation felt and acknowledged the influence of the storm ; but when the agitation of the sea had arrived at ils height, there my shoes, and endeavoured to cat them. A letter that I had valued beyond my life, remained in one of my pockets— I chewed and swallowed it, but it gave me no relief. A burning excruciating fire was in my stomach ; and although I drank copiously of the melted ice, the fever- ish agony increased, till at last even this grew nauseous, ami my stomach revolted at it. Then I began to sicken and swoon, and lie for hours in a state of stupefaction, insensible to everything hut a dull gnawing pain in my stomach. Rains would pour down upon me, and beat in my face, unregarded ; and once there happened an- other storm, almost as viotent as those I have described, which I listened to with indifference. I cared not— nay, I rather desired that some friendly billow might wash me awav, and make an end of my miseries. But they disturbed me not; and still 1 lay by my pine tree, unmindful of the joyous sun lhat burst out afler the gale. Once, too, as I lay in that state of fearful stupe- faction, my ears was suddenly invaded with the shrill cries of birds. I slarled up, and looking around, I be- held myself within a few leagues of land. Was tlys an illusion of madness ? Did I dreamP Were those glo- rious blue hills that rose before my eyes merely a phan- tom paradise made up of delusive fogs!— an airy no- thing, conjured up lo mock me ill my misery f My soul was tilled with transport ; the vision grew in my eyes, and as the current bore me nearer and nearer to it, it increased in beauty, magnificence., and reality. Alas, my floating prison was soon carried past the pro- jecting shore by the impetuous current. The disap- pointment vvas too much for my weakened senses. I fell into a swoon, and that blissful shore, lhat Eden of the waters, was lost to me forever. I awoke from my trance— I cast my eye back to the land ; ii lay like a blue cloud on the horizon, sinking and s ilking in the di- tance and the twilight, until it vanished, and 1 was again sent out into the wide ocean. Famine, fatigue, suffering, and disappointed hope, had done their work; and the afternoon of another day saw me reclining on a fragment of rock, watching with a voracious eye flocks of sea- birds skimming and eddy- ing above me. They flew aiound me, croaking and screaming; nay, they flapped their wings in my face, as if impatient of tbe hour which was to give them a banquet upon human flesh. I waved my hand ; 1 shouted, and the hoarse soiypl frighted ( hem from me- One slone remained; it crept for food into a little hol- low of Ihe ice, wln re 1 followed and secured it. I tore il with my nails, and devoured it. Refreshed, but not half satisfied, I arose, and looked again upon the ocean. A white speck appeared 011 the horizon ; il grew, it increased, it approached— I saw it— a sail— one, ivvo, three, four— 0I1, heaven 1 a gallant fleet, rising white and glorious from Ihe blue waters. Onwards and onwards lliey came, their sails set, and their prows dashing up the dark element in clouds of snowy foam. Hope gave me supernatural strength ; I climbed an icy peak, and stretched forth my arms to them. I shouted to them, till my voice, hollow and broken, dwindled into a feeble whisper. The foremost of them was now within a mile of me. I could see men thronging the decks, and inelhought even at that distance, I could distinguish ihem, all with their eyes fixed on me, and some surveying me through glasses. Bul they did not deviate from their course — they seemed passing me ; I tore the garments from my back, and waved them in the air. They passed on their course. The second came, and Ihe third— all— all— thev passed me, and replied not to iny frantic signals, . he seventh and last, Ihe convoy ofthe squadron ' ow appeared. The starry flag- of my country flut' ,- d from her peak. My gestures and cries were now like those of a madman. I flung my neckcloth high in tile air, and the wind swept it from me into the sea. But they saw it— they saw it! They fired a gun, and I looked for them to lav to. I watched for the launching of the boat I deceived myself. It was a signal for the squadron to vary their course ; and squadron and convoy soon vanished from my eyes. This second dreadful disappointment to my hopes may be more easily conceived than described. The sun was setting. 1 crawled to a brink of the ice, fully teiblved to throw myself into the sea. A dark object presented itself lo my eyes* lying immediately under the island, and nighf had not so far advanced as to prevent me from recognising in this singular appari tion, a wreck, water logged, and without masts, rolling heavily in tile sea. Something moved upon the stern. Oh, tiappiness, was it a human being— one like myself, spared 10 he inocked as I had been! I endeavoured to Call aloud, but my previous exertions had left me voiceless. I presented myself on the cliff, and this miserable creature now appeared to me a dog, which, seeing me, set up a loud howl. It was not Ihe plain- live cry we so often hear uttered by this animal ; not the animated yelp of recognition ; no— hunger had changed its nature, as it had changed inine— it was the howl of a famished fiend, the scream ofa beast of prey. This also disappeared, and night vvas again upon the ocean. The morning came: I cared not for it. The sun was melting my island under me, and must soon mingle it with the walers : 1 cared not for that. 1 was resigned lo my fate; the pangs of hunger were now unfelt. I was happy, for I knew I vvas dying ; but death came slowly, my constitution resisted him. I lay in a horrid stupor. From Ihis slate I was aroused by a human voice— yes, many voices shouting and calling aloud. I crawled from my cave— 1 rose feebly to my feet. A ship with ! er sails backed, lay a few furlongs to windward of me. They had descried illy handkerchief, which I had hung upon a branch of the pine, and stuck in one of the most elevated parts ofthe island. They saw me, and shouted cheeringl. v and trium- phantly. They put out a boat, which approached Ihe ice ; but its sharp and upright sides rendered it impos- sible for them to land on it. I succeeded in crawling to a part of the berg, where it inclined shelvingly to ihe water, aud as a last effort, slid myself down into the sea. • I fas taken up, and found myself fostered among the tude but kind- hearted tars of my own country, names rank high in the annals of chivalry— Bonnive< t Fleuis, Bolange ; and there stood Bayard the good knight " Sans yeur et sans reproche." But there is a sudden silence among the multitude—, the shouts of the peasants aud the clangor of the trum- pets are hushed— the laughing maiden has stilled the bells of her falcon, and ihe gallant has turned his pal- frey from Ihe side of his blushing companion. And for what? To gaze on an aged man, whose feeble form is hardly supported in his saddle by the men- at- arms, who are leading his sure- paced mule through the throng. He descends, and his trembling steps are guided to where the youthful monarch is standing, encircled by chivalry and beauty. He bends his knee and bows his gray hairs before the throne— it is but for an in- stant— the hand of Francis has raised him from his sup- pliant posture, and he stands on the right hand of the king. There is no coronet upon his brow, the silver locks which wave around his temples are its only covering; there are neither chains nor jewels on his breast— Ihe flowing beard, white as the driven snow, which descends over Ids dark robe, is ils only ornament — yet every eye is turned upon hith, peer and peasant are pressing forward to look upon that aged form— the naine of Da Vinci is whispered among the courtiers— it is carr ied from mouth to mouth— ihe cry rises louder and louder, and the shout of " Live Francis! the patron of learning," is joined with " Honor to Da Vinci, le sage chevalier I Honor to the noble Italian! may bis stay be long at the court lie has at length visited !'' It was indeed Da Vinci, the venerable Leonardo, who had left his ungrateful country to visit the court of one who never failed to respect wisdom and virtue— Da Vinci, the man wh > united Ihe most wonderful talents with a pure and guileless lieari— the accomplished gentleman, the skillful knight, the mathematician, the poet, the artificer, lire musician, and the painter. Such was the man who stood, like one of the patriarchs of old, stern and simple in his- atlire, amid Ihe gay and glittering throng. * * - # * The scene is changed; it is no longer the busy splen- did assemblage of warriors and courtiers without Ihe walls of Fontainbleau— it is the solemn stillness of the chamber of death ! The dark fretted roof of one of the chambers of the palace spreads its, carved work above, in lieu of the clear and cloudless canopy of heaven ; and the faint glimmer of a single lamp falls on two figures, the sole inmates of the apartment. The one is Da Vinci; he is dying, but still glorious even in death, like ihe last bright flash of an expiring flame before it sinks in the socket. Leonardo has raised himself in his bed— his face is pale, but his eyes is still bright, his countenance still calm and serene! There is a slight quiver on his lips, as if he would have spoken— it passes away, and his head drooping gently on his bosom, he sinks back in the arms of the person who kneels beside the couch. It is the monarch of France who supports the dying man, on whose bosom Da Vinci lias breathed his last sigh. Thus died the learned the good Da Vinci, the won- derof his age— of whom it might be juslly said—" Take him for all in all, we ne'er shall look upon his like again." ' PRICES PAID TO LORD BYRON FOR HIS DIF- FERENT WORKS, Lord Byron,. as is well known, set out with the deter- minaiion never 10 receive monev for his writings. For the liberty to republish his celebrated satire, " English Bards and Scottish Reviewers," he refused four hundred guineas; and the money paid for tbe first and second cantos of" Childe Harold," and " The Corsair," he pre- sented to Mr. Dallas. In 1816, toa letter enclosing a draft of IOOO guineas, offered by Mr. Murray for " The Siege of Corinth," and " Parisina," the noble poet" sent this answei:—" Your offer is liberal in the extreme, and much more than the two poems can possibly be worth — but 1 cannot accept it, nor will not. Vou are most wel- come to them, as additions to the collected volumes, without any demand or expectation on my part whatever. 1 have enclosed your draft torn, for fear of accidents by the way. I wish you would nor, throw temptation irr mine ; it is not. from a disdain ofthe universal idol, nor from a present superfluity of his treasures, I can assure you, that I refuse to worship him ; bur. what is right is right, and must not yield to circumstances." The poet vvas afterwards induced, at Mr. Murray's earnest persua- sion. to accept the thousand guineas. The subjoined statement of the sums paid by liim at various times to Lord Byron, for copyright, may be considered a bibliopo- lic curiosi'y :— Cliilde Harold,*!., II., 600/.; 111., 1,575/.; IV., 2,100/. Gia. Ill', 525/.— Bride of Abydos, 525/.— Corsair, 525/.— Lara, 700/. - Siege of Corinth, 525/— Parisina, 525/,— Lament of Tasso, 315/— Manfred. 315/,- rBeppo, 525/.— Don Juau, 1., 11.. 1,525/; 111., IV., V., 1,525.— Doge of Venice, 1,050/.— Sardanapulas. Cain, and Foscari, 1,100/. — Mazeppa, 525(.— Prisoner ofCtiillon, 525/.— Sundries, 450/. — Hours of Idleness, English Bards and Scottish Reviewers, Hints from Horace, Werner, Deformed Trans- formed, Heaven and Earth, tkc., 3,865/.— Life by Thomas Moore, 4,200/.— Total, 23,540/. commenced a scene so appallingly sublime, that exen the apprehension of approaching destruction could not wholly until me for enjoying it. The islanS rocked, but not as a ship rocks, when she stumbles from a lofty wave into the trough, jp* the sea, nor even as a moun- tain, when vexed by ih(? earthquake in its bowels. Ii seemed rath& r to reel or spin round like a kraken in Ihe whirlpool of Norway; sometimes lurching heavily over, until its tallest precipices were buried in the wave). Then a more regular assault of gusts and breakers prevailing, it would sloop and yield before the wind, and drift wilh amazing celerity through the waters. Happily my position was in a central part; and oc- casionally a billow more mountainous and voracious than the rest would seem almost fo overwhelm the is land, and dash itself at my feet, 1 felt myself partially secure. All this, however, was trifling to that which soon fol- lowed. I know not whether the tornado had huddled the other ice islands together, and impelled them with violence against my own, or \ vhelher my island may not have struck upon some concealed rock. Be lhat as it may, 1 was suddenly alarmed by a shock that com- municated itself in a vibratory ehuddei to all parts of Ihe island, followed by a deafening crash ; and in an- other moment I was made sensible, by the distracted and impetuous tossing of my berg, and by many suc- cessive shocks, that il had been split in twain, and was now breaking to pieces. The storm died gradually away; and with the morn- ing sun came another calm, and another day of famine and misery. Several days succeeded to ihis, a dull and horrid calendar of starvation, distraction, and stu- por. Of water I had plenty : 1 slacked iny thirst by sucking it from a piece of ice, or by scooping it in mv hands from the puddles that formed every day around the trees, rocks, and earth on my island. But food— 1 had no food. I chewed such splinters of bark and wood as I could tear awav from the pine- tree— they were dry and disgustful, I cut strips of leather from THE DEATH OF DA VINCI, A HISTORICAL SKETCH. The morning sun was breaking bright over tile woods of FontainblMui ; the dew- drops were glittering on the pendant branches, as if each trembling bough were jeweled like the tiara of a monarch ; and the matiu- song of Ihe . little birds was soundiiig merrily iu the greenwood ; but brighter far, shone the eyes of the fair maidens of France, and sweeter sang the minstrels who were assembled in the glades of the forest. Francis, the ' King of Gentlemen,' was holding high festival at Fontainbleau, with the noblest and brightest of his court. - Cerles, it was a noble and a stirring sight to view Ihe gallant array of warriors and princes, of spearmen and arbalisiers, with their banners and their pennons, waving and flashing their many coloured hues to the full blaze ofthe morning. All, of every degree, from the proud noble in bis furred gown and golden chain, to the shouting peasant wilh his thrmnp cap and leathern jerkin, were thronging round their sovereign. Here rode the pifrily citizen on his slow- pacing steed — there ambled the court maiden on her playful jennet, jingling the Milan bells of her hooded merlin in Ihe ear of the citizen's horse, to the no small discomfiture ofhis rider. Here stood the veteran cavalier, stiff and straight as the old e'm against which he leant, casting a wrathful eye upon the wayward caracoling) of the lady's palfrey— and there the bashful country ( tam) el, half smiling, half pouting, at the plumed gallant, who, bending from his pawing Arabian, is whispering the iiewe) t romaunt of the troubadours in her ear. The beautiful, Ihe brave, were gathering round their king. Beneath a splendid canopy, erected in the court of the palace, stood Francis, his bright joyous eye glanc ing with pleasure on the gay scene around him— not so much distinguished by the richness of his habit, as by the beauty of his person and graceful deportment, which so justly g" ained him the title of " ie Roi des Gentil hommes." He was surrounded by those whose I trouble, THOUGHTS ON FRIENDSHIP. How arduous and how difficult a task to find a true friend 1 Where hi this enlightened age will you find the man who bears any similitude to those illustrious ancients, whose very feelings' were bound heart, band, and mind together, as closely as one link of a Chain is connected with another? The friends of the present age are talked of by many, hut met with by few. Any man who squan- ders away his money, wiihout regard upon whom his gifts are bestowed, will he sure to find many professors of friendship, but when pecuniary embarrassments oblige hi in to retire from the gay circle of tbe world, and the sweet gales of prosperity cease to waft their aromatic per- fumes through bis dwelling, and the damp, cold dews of adversity thickly gather around him, where will he find the 111 m who would be happy to share his misfortunes, and still feel proud of his society, although, perhaps, an expense to him ? Alas ! self is the predominant feeling. Nothing is more easily mistaken than true friendship— true friendship is a trial of the unselfish over the selfish parts of our nature, and unless it takes its rise from the noble qualities of heart and mind, it is nothing but a low and contemptible cunning. Friendship, iu a pure and lofty state, is Jootonly a proof, hut a consequence of morality. When the mighty influ- ence of this virtue is taken into consideration, and the im- portant and Weighty responsibilities which originate from it, we are surprised at the levity and indifference with which by many tiie mask of sincerity is assumed. Friend- ship is hut a name. A dagger's stab is not so deep as the falsity of those whom we mistook for our friends, for that will only pierce the flesh, whilst this will sink into tbe utmost recesses of the soul, and taint the course of life iu al! its strtams. Rare as true love is, it is less so than true friendship. X Y Z. BACHELORS TAXATION. — We find it stated in some of the papers, that a number. of ladies lately petitioned the legislature to pass a bill laying a tax on old bache- lors. One of tbe members ( a bachelorhimsetf) became the advocate of this measure, on the ground that lux- uries ought, lo be taxed. He meant to say peradvenlure, that old bachelorship is a luxury ; certain we are that Old Bachelors themselves are no such matter. As for taxing Ihem, we doubt if lhat would be just; for it is not often their own fault that they are bachelors, It is generally an involuntary penance, and all the luxury that attends il 1) not to be envied. Where is the bache- lor of thirty or upwards, who has not received at least a dozen rejections or ' fiats'as they are technically called P If an exception cart be found, it is because the gentleman has not the courage to make proposals of matrimony. An old bachelor has usually been either too' sheepish' to woo a lady, or too little attractive to win one. And yet these oddities have the effrontery to insinuate that they would not get married, because they could not find a wife to their taste! " Ah ah ! my noble fox will eat no grapes." No; we are decidedly opposed to Ihe taxation of bachelors. All commodities taxed should have some specific value, else how should the rate of duly be de- termined? If bachelors be taxed ad vuloram, thp fa will amount to little or nothing, and the advantage, pub- lic or private will be nugatory and scarcely WOT THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE. .^ Fragments for if) t Curious. INGENUITY OF TWO BROTHERS.— About forty years ago, two brothers went to Jamaica ; they were, by trade, blacksmiths. Finding, soon after their arrival, they could do nothing without a little money to begin with, but that, with sixty or eighty pounds, they might be able, with industry, to get on a little, they hit upon the following novel and ingenious expedient. One of them stripped the other naked, shaved him close, anil blacked liim from head to foot. This being done, he took him to one of tbe negro- dealers, who, after viewing and approving his stout, athletic appearance, advanced eighty pounds currency upon the bill of sale, and prided himself upon the purchase, supposing him to be one of the finest negroes on the island. The same evening, his new- mauufactured negro made his escape to his brother, washed himself clean, and resumed his former appearance. Rewards were in vain offered in hand- bills, pursuit was eluded, and discovery, by care and caution, rendered impracticable. With themoneythws acquired, the brothers commenced business and re- turned to England some years since with a fortune of several thousand pounds. Previously, however, to their departure from the island, they waited upon the person from whom they had received the money, and recalling the circumstance of the negro to his recol- lection, paid him both principal and interest, with thanks. " FAREWELL TO ERIN." 1 AIR.—" Farewell to the Mountain.'' I " Farewell to thee Erin," ( The bards fav'rite soil,) Oh 1 dearly I love thee, My own native isle 1 On thy mountains so stately, I'll e'er sigh to dwell, Where the breeze blows so sweetly, Farewell, oh ! Farewell! Sweet land of the West ! How sad is my heart, , So far from thy fair shore, Thus early to part 1 From thy valleys and meadows, Thy dingle and dell, . Once more then sweet Erin, I sigh forth " Farewell 1" R. T. GRAUNELL. Wfyz ffifjeatm. Mr. Eliason, we are informed, intends to openDrury Lane Theatre, with a German operatic company ; and to make arrangements with all the first- rate talent, has left England. We have no doubt but that, with good management, the speculation will turn out pro- fitable. Madame Vestris has given us nothing new since the re- opening, but we are promised a new play, in five acts, by Sheridan Knowles. The Merry Wives of Windsor— Love— School for Scandal, and the after- piece of Sleeping Beauty, have drawn crowded and fashionable audiences. Mr. J. Wallack has proved a profitable " card" for Webster, at the Haymarket; and the efforts of this gentleman, combined with those of Mr. David Rees, and Mrs. Sterling, will, no doubt, continue to prove attractive. Loss of Home; or, Alice of the Old Farm House, is the title of another new drama, of the domestic order, which has been played wilh much applause at Sadler's Wells Theatre. It is written by Mr. Greenwood, and does that gentleman infinite credit. The City Theatre is doing capital business; and, in fact, the excellent way in which it is managed deserves the support of the public. The Storm at Home, from the pen of Mr. Dibbin Pitt, we believe, is one of the most successful dramas that has been performed here, and will, no doubt, have a long run. Several novelties are announced to be in preparation, which we shall not fail to do ample justice to. The Victoria Theatre has re- opeoed with three new pieces, namely, a nautical and mystcal romance, bv Mr. Haines, called The Wizard of The, Wave; or, the Ship of the Avenger— In Pursuit of A Wife, and The Cattle Stealers of The Mountains, all of which met wilh con- siderable success. The first is a drama particularly well suited to the Victoria, and would, no doubt, in the palmy days of Bradley and Blanchard, have gained an imperishable fame. As it is, we think it is likely to continue for some time a favorite. The scenery, machi- nery, dresses, & c., were all excellent; and the ap- plause was most enthusiastic. The second piece is a smart little bagatelle, written by Mr. Courtenay, which kept the visible faculties of the aurlience in con- stant motion for half an hour. The third is merely a vehicle for Mr. Cony's two wonderful dogs, IIectorand Bruin, and answered the purpose for which it was intended very well. The h » use was very well attend- ed, and we hope that it will meet with the support of ( he public. The Surrey, Queen's, Strand, and Albert Saloon, shall be noticed in our next. GALLANT TOM! OR, THE PERILS OF A SAILOR ASHORE AND AFLOAT. AN ORIGINAL NAUTICAL ROMANCE. ( Continued from our last.) How TO CURE LOVE— Take three evening parties a week, where you are not likely to fall in with the object of your affections; a few flirtations wilh the finest dark eyes you can procure, iu the conservatory, after supper; six long wallzes with as many pretty girls, and take them down an ice afterwards ; four ballads nicely sung, without making faces, by the same number of beauties in the intervals ofthe quadrilles ; a few visits to the Opera ( if you have a box and one agreeable companion, tant mieux) when Fanny Elsler ( lances the Cracovienne or the Cachucha, in order that you may dream of her afterwards.— N. B. The ground tier to be selected, if you can get it. Think, at the same time, that Ellen's features are more regular ; that Harriet sings much better ; that Emily's figure is more perfect; that Bessy's teeth and hands are much whiter, that Louisa has more intellect and mind; and that Mary's connexions are far more desirable. If all this fail your case is desperate indeed, and you must try change of air, and a residence at Paris, Rome, or Venice, during the Carnival. TO SUSAN:- The little love frolic, which caused you to grieve, And which you impart to design. Was never intended, my Susan, believe, To wound that fair bosom of thine. And should a soft sigh, from that sweet prison break, As you read this solicitous lay ; The tint ofa blush may it print on your cheek, With a smile for to chase it away. The glimpse of a shadow should never derace Those features expressive of love : Or cloud for a moment that beautiful face, As bright as Apollo's above. Though lost to thy presence, dear girl, but awhile, I feel of long absence ihe pain ; [ smile, But the heart, that now sorrows, when cheer'd by thy Shall kindle with rapture again, ^ O. 3, Henrietta- st., Birmingham. J. FAULKNER. THE WRONG LEG.— Amyas Griffiths was deformed both in his back and legs, which procured him from many the title of the modern jEsop. One evening he was lattling and sparkling away, with the least ciooked leg of the two thrown over tbe. oilier ( a piece of par- donable policy), when the conversation happened to turn upon dancing. A wag in company, who knew his good humour, asked him " if he was fond of the amuse- ment.'"—" Yes," he replied, " and mean to subscribe to the winter- balls."—" What I wilh lhat leg }"—" Ay, with this leg ; and notwithstanding your sneering, I'll liet you a rump and dozen, there's a worse leg in the roonl."—" Done, done I" cried a dozen voices. Am- yas shook the hands of each. " Now," said his anta- gonist, with a smile of confidence, " come forward, gentlemen, and let Mr. Griffiths point out such another limb as that."—" Here it is," he replied ; and throwing off his left leg, raised his right in the air, immeasurably more hideous than the other. A general laugh was the result, and the society decided he had fairly won the wager. AMURET.— Tt is said that when Amuret the Fourth hegan his reign, lie found the treasury empty, and that at his death lie left Fifteen Millions of Gold ! - " THE MINSTREL'S FATE." A BALLAD.— BY ANDREW JAMES M'DOUALL, AUTHOR OF " THE PORTRAIT." None prize the minstrel now— or care How cheerless I may be ; They have no smiles for me to spare, ,: Whom once they throng'd to see. The slave who toils ' neatli Asia's sky, Hath friends to share his lot— The child of song alone may die, Neglected and forgot. The lays to which my mind gave birth, That won their praise of yore, Are cast aside- for ruder mirth— AVith me, for ever more. Yel, ' tis not for their feasts I sigh— Their wealth, or lordly state ; „ Many are poorer far than I — But none more desolate. A gentle word— a look— a smile, Had lured my throbbing breast Of half the cares that now beguile My heart of hope and rest. But no one heeds the minstrel now, Or listens to my lay ; The laurel's wilher'd on my brow, My fame hath passed away. Regent's Park, August 25th, IS40. A SINGULAR CHARACTER.— Compton, who was for se veral years one of the keepers of the New Forest, and had a house near the spot where Rnfus was slain, was a most singular character. Me was continually shooting, until he lost his right arm by bis gun bursting : afier which accident he took to " bird- fancying." At ihe rear of bis dwelling was a long garden, where he built an aviary. It was his habit every morning to go with his breakfast- cloth, and shake the crumbs from it, which brought va- rious birds to the spot, when ihe gentle creatures would rest on his arm ( his only oiie) and receive frotn his mouth their food. His " whistle" was so familiar to them lhat they would come when they heard it, and rest on his shoulder as well as bis arm ; and it is most extraordinary to record, that when he died ( about three vears ago) se- veral of the feathered tribe, of various colours, were found lifeless in the garden. HATFIELD THE REGICIDE, AND GEORGE III. On the 15th of May, 1800, a grand military specta- cle, at which his Majesty was present, took place in Hyde- park: while the troops were firing in companies, a person of the name of Oogley who was standing near the King, received a musket ball in his thigh. Suspi- cion having arisen iliat it had been aimed at his Ma- jesty, the cartouch boxes of the troops were rigidly in- spected, but nothing was found by which the delinquent could be identified; and it was afterwards suggested, that a ball- cartridge might have been given oui to one of the men in mistake. The King behaved wilh what may fairly be termed his hereditary courage on this occasion. In the even- ing, a play having been previously commaoded al Drury- lane, he accompanied the Queen to the theatre, in spite of tlie earnest remonstrances of his ministers, to whom he declared that he feared nothing, and would not disappoint the people. A moment after he had en- tered his box, and while he was in the act of bowing to Ihe audience, a man who sat in the middle of the pit, near ihe orchestra, fired a horse- pistol at him ; but the assassin's arm having fortunately been g. little elevated by a person near him, who bad ob served his intent, the charge lodged in the roof of the royal box. The cul- prit was immediately seized, and the pistol, which he had dropped, was found beneath the seat. Terror and indignation weredei'icted on every countenance except that of the King, who stepped back, with admirable composure, to the door of ihe box, and prevented the Queen fiom entering. " Keep back, keep buck," said he,"" they are firing squibs for diversion, and per- haps there may be more." He, then, according to the account of a gentlemen who was present, returned to the box, advanced to the front, and with folded arms, and a look of great riigniiy, in which one might have read the sentiment, " Now, fire, if you please I" pre- sented himself to the audience; which, after a moment of silence, but intense admiration, burst into acclama- tions which absolutely shook the theatre. At length the Queen aud Princesses entered, and they warmly urge. d ( he King to return home ; but he replied, " No ; sit down and be calm, ( here is no danger; we will slay and see the entertainment out'.'' The loyalty of the spectators was raised lo the highest pitch of enthu- siasm by his Majesty's firmness. " God save the King," was thrice repeated, with the addition of the following stanza, by Sheridan : — From every latent foe, From the assassin's blow, God save the King I O'er him thine arm extend, For Britain's sake defend, Our father, prince, and friend, God save the King I" The man who had thus attempted the King's life, on being interrogated, said, " 1. have no objection to tell who 1 am. It is not over yet. There is a great deal more to be done. My name is James Hatfield : 1 served my lime as a working silversmith ; but afterwards en- listed in tho 15th Light Dragoons, and have fought for my King and country. The Duke of York now en- tered file room where the examination took place. " I know your royal highness," continued Hatfield ; " God bless you I you are a good fellow I I have served with your highness, and I got these," he added, pointing to a deep cut over bis eye, and another long scar on his cheek ; and more than these, in fighling by your side. At Lincelles, I waft left ( hree hours among ( he dead, in a ditch, and was ( aken prisoner by ( he French'. 1 had my arm broken by a shot, and received eight sabre wounds in my head ; but I recovered, and here I am I" On being asked what had induced hiin to attempt Ihe life of the King, he said, " I did not attempt to kill Ihe King; I fired the pistol over the royal box. I am as good a shot as any man iu England ; but I am weary of life, and wish for death, though not lo die by my own hands. I was desirous of raising an alarm, and hoped the spectators would fall upon me ; but ihey did not. Still I trust my life is forfeited I" It subse- quently appeared, that, after having behaved, for a number of years, like a brave and good soldier, he had been discharged on account of insanity ( which was sup- posed to have been occasioned by a cut in his head), and admitted nn out- pensioner of Chelsea hospital. When the King returned to ihe Queen's house, he said, " I hope and pray that the poor creature, who lias committed ihe rash assault upon me, may enjoy as sound a repose as I trust lhat I shall this night!'' He adopted no additional precautions for his personal safety, observing to those who advised him to do so, " I know ( hat any man in my dominions, who chooses to sacrifice bi3 own life, may easily take away mine ; but I hope, if any one attempts such an act, he will do it promptly, without any circumstances of barbarity !'" Sheridan soon after complimented him for the extraor. dinary resolution he had displayed. " Had your Ma- jesty abruptly quitted the theatre," said he, " the con- fusion would have been awful." " I should have des- pised myself for ever," replied the King, " had I but stirred a single inch: a man, on such an occasion should need no prompting, but immediately feel what is his duty, and do il." Hatfield was subsequently indicted for high treason, but the jury being satisfied that he was of unsound mind, he was committed to Bethiem- hospital. He was living at the time of the demise of his iulended victim's successor, and, for a long period, was an object of great interest to the visitors of the noble establishment to which he had been consigned, until, at length, Mar fin, the incendiary of the Cathedral at York, became to his great indignation, more ponular in Belhlemtlian himself. It would be impossible to describe the state of ex citement into which the establishment of the Earl and the whole neighbourhood was thrown, when the news spread that he was apprehended on a charge of mur- der. So prejudiced were most people against the un- happy Fitzosbert, by the character he had before borne, that they were ready enough to condemn him, and many were there that busied themselves in recalling to their minds every rumour that they h; yi heard against him, and every circumstance of suspicion which had come within their knowledge. The strange manner in which his brollier and his son had disappeared some years be- fore, was fresh in the lecollection of several persons who lived in the vicinity at the time, and now that Ihe Earl was accused, they did not hesitate to give pretty bold expression to their opinions, and to state plainly that they firmly believed they had both fallen hy the hands or at the instigation of the present Earl. The event which had taken place at the/ e( e given by the Earl, and the terror he had betrayed, strengthened these surmises, added to which were the awful stories that were industriously propagated by the Earl's own domestics, and those who had quitted his service, con- cerning the strange nohes that were heard in the man- sion, and the spectre which had been reported to have been seen by Peter. The sensation caused at the 16 Old Commodore," was equal to that excited in the bosoms of those more inti- mately connected with the Earl, and Mat seemed to take an unusual interest in it. " Depend upon it, dame," said the old man, " strange events are upon the eve of being bronght'to light, and the wrath of offended God will most assuredly overtake the guilty, while ( he innocent and oppressed will have that justice awarded them, which the wrongs they have suffered, entitle them ( o. I always considered this nobleman a villain, his deeds have proved him to be so, and I am much mistaken, if his guilt is not made mani- fest lo the world." " But they say that Saib has made a confession," said the dame, if so there cannot be a dpubt of Ills guilt." '' Did his conviction depend upon the confession of Saib only, I should ' consider ( hat it was very uncer- tain ;'' observed Mat, " but I have no doubt there will be other corroborative evidence against him, which can- not fail to prove him to be all that he is suspected of being." " Why, Mat," said his wife with some astonishment, " one would imagine from the confident tone in which you speak, that you were acquainted with all the par- ticulars of this mysterious affair." " At any rate I have some evidence to offer, which is of considerable importance ;" said her husband. " You, you, Mat?" exclaimed the dame, with in- creased surprise, " why, what in the name of goodness can you know about the business ?" " No matter," replied Mat, " you will know anon ; let it suffice lhat I do know more than many persons are aware of; but I have business to altend to, I shall be at fhe mayor's time enough for the examination, and remember I expect that Richard will attend there also." With these words Mat left the house. The office of the Mayor was crowded to suffocation with persons anxi- ous to hear the examination of the accused, and the deepest interest seemed to prevail. When the Earl appeared at the bar, a low murmuring ran through the persons assembled, and all eyes iu a moment became fixed upon him, and every one listened with bieatliless impatience for the proceedings to be opened. The earl was evidently struggling violently with bis feel- ings, and endeavouring to gain firmness and composure ; but his efforts were entirely unsuccessful ; and it was plainly visible how much he mentally suffered, from the livid hue of his cheeks, Im quivering lip, and the restless expression of his eyes as tbey wandered round the place. Suddenly be was observed to start, and turn more ghastly pale than before, and the eyes of the persons present fol- lowed in the direction in which he was gazing, whe; e they beheld seated in that part of the office nearest the magistrates, Rosina and her brother. It was the first time the earl had seen the former since her elopement from his power, and the sight ofher, and ill such a place, to witness bis shame and degradation, stung him to the quick. He croaned aloud, and covering his face with his bauds, ap- peared to be suffering the most intense agony. It was several minutes beiore he could recover himself sufficiently to again look up, and then bis face was deadlv pale ; but Rosina had shrunk back in her scat with a feeling of pity to which her gentle nature was so susceptible, and he could no longer behold her. Yet, his eyes encountered other objects, which caused him scarcely less anguish, particularly Richard, who stood exactly opposite t » hiin, iu the company wilh his friends. The earl w as accommodated with a chair, and then Ihe business commenced, the cletk reading the charge, which was to the effect, that he was accused of having by the offer of bribes prevailed upon his servant, Saib, the African, to waylay and murder his brother, Algernon, Karl Fitzos- bert, and his infant son, on the night of the fourteenth of September, 1770, in order to possess himself of the title and estates of Fitzosbert. A death- like silence prevailed, while the charge was be- ing read, aud all eyes were fixed earnestly upon the prisoner's countenance, which evinced the most poweiful emotion ; but, before the clerk had concluded, by a sud- den effort he seemed to arouse himself, and in a firm, bold tone, he demanded,— " By whom am 1 accused ?" " By your own servant, Saib, who committed the deed," was the reply. " You accuse him of being a murderer,— why then is he not placed by my side ?" inquired Fitzosbert. It was here publicly stated, that. Saib was in a dying tate, and, in fact, not expected to live many minutes ; that he had a few hours before repeated his assertions, which had been taken down in writing, and signed by himself, and lhat it was lo the following effect. Here the clerk prepared to read the confession, and while he did so, Fitzosbert never once looked up, but from the convulsive movement of his body, it was very clear lhat be listened to every sentence with the utmost horror. The confession was in these words :— CONFESSION OF SAIB. " Feeling the hand of death upon me, and stung with emorse aud a guilty conscience, I wish to make all the atonement I can, by acknowledging the heinous crimes of which I have been guilty, aud bringing retribution upon the head of him, who, by'- the tempting offer of lucre, first led me into villainy and bloodshed. " Algernon, Earl Fitzosbert, tbe brother of the accused, was my master originally, having taken me from slavery in Africa, and brought me wilh him to England, where he educated me, and shewed me all the indulgence which a master could bestow upon a servant. Alas! how did I repay him for his kindness ?— The sequel will too plainly shew. My time is short,— therefore I must pass over my narrative of blood as briefly as possible. Soon after the birth of a son, the Countess Fitzosbert died, and the earl became quite an altered man, abandoning that life of re- tirement in which he hail before resided, and mixing with the political world, at the time when it was beset by the most violent storms, in which be became implicated. To- wards his brother, who was his junior by about three years, he behaved with the utmost affection and liberality, resigning to him a large portion of the property bequeathed to him by his late father, and insisting upon his con- tinuing to reside with htm ; but, notwithstanding this, soon alter I came to reside in England, I could perceive that he viewed the earl with eyes of euvy and hatred, and it was not long ere I discovered that my surmises were just. " The prisoner soon began to take particular notice of me, and took every opportunity of conciliating my friendship, by making me presents, and many other advances lo my favour. Although I hated and despised him in my heart, his gold was tempting, for I was na turally covetous, and by degrees, he so completely won upon me, as to venture fo confide to me his thoughts and wishes. It was then I discovered that his ambition was to become the possessor of the title and estates of his brother, and that he could see no other way of arriving at the gratification of his wishes, than by the death of Algernon and his ipfant son. So completely had he won upon me by his cursed lucre, that I was induced to listen to his proposals, and fioally to become the panderer to his desires. The assassination of the Earl and his son was resolved upon, and an opportunity soon presented itself to put our diabolical scheme into execution. " The Earl having been accused of some political offence, ' deemed it prudent to leave his mansion for some time, and retire to the Isle of Wight. I did not accompany him, but it was agreed that I should follow after him, and meet him at a certain part of the coast. I did so. We got into a post- chaise to go to the place he| had fixed on for his residence, and he had his child with him.— I had well managed my murderous plot; — I had agreed with three ruffians, ( whom I had known on board the vessel which brought me to England,) to attack us at a certain place, and they did as I had de- sired them. The unfortunate Earl, with the boy in his arms, was dragged out of the vehicle, and with my own hand I slabbed him in various parts of the body, and inflicted what I thought to be a deadly wound on the boy. After this we divided what money the Earl had with him, equally amongst us, and drove the chaise ; nto the sea, but left the bodies where we murdered them, being alarmed by some persons whom we thought were approaching the spot, I parted with the ruffians, and have never seen them since. Soon afterwarcs I returned home, and as it was not known there, whither I had gone, suspicion never lighted upon me, A few weeks afterwards, all inquiries after the Earl and his son having proved unsuccessful, his brother, who had affec ed the most violent grief, took to himself the fitle and estates of Fifzosbert, which be lias retained ever since. To account for the attempts I have made upon tbe life ofthe lad Richard, I wish the person whom he calls his uncle to be examined, knowing that he can disclose some most important facts, bearing upon the case. This is the trulh, as 1 hope for mercy from that Almighty Judge in whose presence I stall shortly be." SIGNED—" SAIB." ( To be concludfd in our next.) CHARADES. I. I am a word of eleven letters. My 4, 3, 8, 7, 6— is to be found in 3, 7, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11; my 1, 9, 10, 11, 6, 7, 1— 4, 9, 7, and 7, 9, 3, 1, 3, 10, 1— are foreign pro- ductions; my 6, 8, 11,6,7— 4,7,6 6— is to be found at 1,2, 9, 10, I, 6, 9, in 2,9,8, 6, 1 ; my 6, 8,3, 5, 9 — is a favorite recitation; my 4, 6, 9, 8, 6— is a fowl; my 1, 6, 10, 10,9— is a drug; my 4, 6, 9, 1, 6, 8— is a useful plant; my 4, 6, 2, 6, 8— is of use to the smith ; my 8, 3, 5, 9, 7, 11— is a small animal; my 4, 3,10,11, 6, 7— is now of little service ; my 1, 9, 7, 11, 3, 10, 6— is a precious stone ; my 5, 6,9, 8, 9,10, 11 — is a foreign country; and my 2, 4, 6,8,8, once gave freedom to my whole. D. W. P. II. I am a word of fourteen letters. My 4, 8, 14, 14, 12, 13, 14— is part ofa church ; my 6,3,7— is the name of a female ; my 6, 12, 12,13, I t— is a well- known fruit my 1,6, 12— is a covering for the head ; my 11,7, 14 — is a number, and so is my 3, 9, 10, 14 ; my 2, 7, 9 11,3— is an herb, also my 12, 2, 5, 6, 8, 11, 14, 4; my 4, 11,6, 12— is used byeveiyone; my 13,9, 12 — is a part of the body near to my 3, 11, 4. 14 ; my 4, 6, 5. 9, 3— is worn by ladies ; my 12, 6, 9, 3, 8— is much used in ornamenting dwelling houses, and is frequently mixed with my 2, 9, 13 ; my 4, 14, 6, 8— is used by all; on my 4, 14, 6— many lives are lost; by the art of man my 4, 8, 11,3, 14— is converted to very useful pur poses; and my whole is the name of a celebrated city, A. R. Melhought as I snooz'd in my old lolling chair, ( A thing most remarkably odd ;) Near a cold loin of mutton, with plenty of cheer, Sat the grim Scandinavian god. He nod ded most knowing complaisant on me; And near him was seated Dido ; • Who talk'd and who laugh'd, and appear'd in high glee, With Eneas, I/ ion's hero. The Hero of Lodi told much lhat he did, Of dangers, of uproars and din ; Old Lin making tea broke a prime tea- pot lid s Which brought down the wrath of Odin. Lilla was writing as quiet as a dolt, And dancing a jig was young Ion ; Quite lushy was Cromwell they nicknamed ' Noll,'' Tho' possessed with the heart of a lion. 1 A black- looking Don said no ill should they do hiin, So carried him home in high glee, man ;" The rest in brave bumpers of oil then drank to him,— Just as I awoke. H. FREEMAN. RIDDLES. I. I am red, I am pink, I am blue, I am white. And to deck pretty maidens I die with affright! In the cottage, the hovel, and palace I'm found. And in cold, frosty weather I live under ground 1 I'm a symbol of peace, or a symbol of woe, And oft limes from lover to mistress I go. 1 am round, I ain flat, I am long, I am short, And by rich and by poor I am equally bought. To day I'm admired by the lovely and fair, To- morrow by children I'm lost in tlie air I Or I'm tlnown in a dust- hole to languish and die; So to find who I am now, kind readers, pray try. A. A. L. II. Take the end of the name of a well- known brute, And then take the seat of a bishop ; And then take one part ofa plaintive shout, And from hidance a part of me fish up. My fourth's the beginning of right, For I am a part of a penny ; I've the name ofa sense of great might, That gives pleasure and pain unto many. My seventh's a part of a horse, And my last the last of tliiSIesson ; My whole would crush Ireland by force, And rule it with awful oppression. ITT. Buc. ANSWER TO ALEXANDER'S CHARADE IN NO. 21. A sonnet is the first you mean, Ten and one come in rotation, And then a mark may be, I ween, A note of Admiration. A drunkard is a sot I know, A sound may be a tone, A weight a ton, and now I'll show The whole to be a STONE. FRIZ- ANSWER TO R. Y.' s CHARADE IN NO. 22. To rout out the name, sir, of your last charade, 1 thought that the trouble I'd take, To find out a Tartar ' twas not very hard, Ah I why did you make that mistake ? To torment your aunt, sir, I think you would rue, And perhaps that you'd find very soon ; That at night there would be very little to do, If ' twere not for the light of the moon. In a mart, very likely a tanner you'll see. And a man with an arm, sir, ' twould seem ; I've no doubt, sir, a note could be written to me. Without having of paper a ream. , It's untrue that Jrran to Rome, sir, is near, And indeed, sir, I'm sure I'm not wrong; At d I ( hink, sir, to all I have made it quite clear, That the word that you waut'sTouRNAMF. NT. QUILP. ANSWER TO CHARADE IN NO- 22. Thai your ire was raised when it reached your ear, That ev'ry acre of land was gone, I have no doubt, for ' tis devilish queer, After having been used to a thousand a- year, To have no land to sport upon ! So I suppose you thought your mind to ease, ' Tvvas no crime to take a car To the races to drive, and do as you please ;— The air to take and the maidens to tease, Was better than mourning far ! Your friend Mac, you say, with you also came, On a mare full mounted well. jWe. tliinks I see thee in the rear for the gRme— " The cream of the joke " laughing ( as for fame,) At what thy friend's career befel. For the speed that he went brought him to " within An ace of" kissing the mire. Oh! it was rare sport, and as you looked thin, You a rice pudding got at a well- known inn, And cheese which die mice admire! — Mahometans of fain'd Mecca are fond, E'en a carrier takes good care ( Or a crier) to visit it though the way's like a pond, Which is covered with ice— as I'll be bound, To see him so, is not very rare.--- AM ERICA. A. A. L. ANSWER TO TUB SECOND CHARADE IN NO. 23. Sir, when your letters I combined, DILLON is your name I find ; And to your charade, good and true, It will prove an answer too. C. W. WHITE. ANSWER TO D. W. P.' s CHARADE IN NO. 23. Those, sir, who have ' neath the Tunnel been, No doubt a lever Ihey have seen; Anil many's been the traveller too, To scorching clime where lives Hindoo ; Whose watched the Nile and Neva's source, As wending on their mazy course, And oft in tavern made a meal, Dinner, tea, of ale, and veal. * Daniel in God's favour rose. And Unitarians did oppose. Tarantula is an insect true, And sound relates to music loo. Adrian, a Roman emperor's name. Ten a number, nine the same. A duel soon drops acquaintance too, A veil conceals the face from view, An elder is a tree I grant, A nettle is a well- known plant, VALETUDINARIAN'S too, Your charade's answer'd, sir. Adieu. C. W. WHITE. ANSWER TO J. DILLON'S CHARADE IN NO. 23. Mr. Dillon,— I dreamt a most curious dream, But firstly by way of pretence ; My manner's familiar, too rude you may deem, $ But really I mean no offence. To know my first you must suppose a game, Four- fifths of which my greafer half will name; My next of many a size and shape is made. For safety used by men of every grade ; My tout you'll find unite both good and bad, It makes us merry and it makes us mad. L. B, IV. I am long and short, tho' it seems queer, I'm sometimes round, sometimes square ; Sometimes I'm crooked, sometimes straight, Sometimes transparent as tbe light. I am so odd, you'll find me oft Smooth and uneven, hard and soft: I've also got a curious knack Of carrying loads upon my back;— Exceeding strong, tho' oft I'm found Unable to buoy half a pound. This is not all, but furthermore I sometimes kill and sometimes cure. Now hear what else I've got to say, Tho' life I often take away. Yet I'm so useful unto man, None live without me— no one can. W. STANLEY. V. My second, sir, people like mostly to he, And my first is a firm allegation; Which when you've found out, sir, I think you'll agree, That my whole is a gratification. FRIZ. ANSWER TO G. W. S RIDDLE IN NO. 21. Your riddle, G. W., is somewhat old, Yet on the whole ' tis not amiss ; But few, I dare say, need be told It's suin and substance is a Kiss. Newcastle Upon I'yne. W. J. HUDSON. ANSWER TO THE SEVENTH RIDDLE IN NO. 21. A friend " is what each man of some man must be," A ship " sweeps the stream and e'en plunders the sea." Without FRIENDSHIP, Oh! what would Ihe poor poet do ? 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