THE PENNY tint POLICE GAZETTE. Mo; 42, LONDON st- SUNDAY, JANUARY 1?, 1841. ILOLICE. MANSION- HOUSE, ' THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE NEVER mo RUN laioaiB."— 4 » little bow- legged urchin, about twelve ' ears of age, was brought before the Lord Mayor, charged - vith picking a gentleman's pocket of a handsome gold - nuff- hos. He was well known to the police as a noto- rious thief, and had been several times in prison for rob- beries of a daring description. He nodded familiarly to his Lordship, as if he was greeting an old acquamt- nee, and smiled at every person in the office, and seemed to be, in St. Giles's Greek, quite " chuff." The gentleman deposed that be had inadvertently put his snuff- box in bis coat- pocket, when, in walking along Cbeapside, just as he reached the corner of Wood- street, e felt a tug at his pocket, and turningqitickly round, be eheid the prisoner, just, apparently, preparing for a bolt, . vhen he laid hold ot him, and gave him in charge to a policeman, who fouud the snuff- box in bis ( the prisoner's) hand. Tbe policeman corroborated the latter part of the gentleman's statement. The Lord Mayor asked the prisoner what he had to say to the charge. PRISONER.— Vy, yer vertchip, 1 means to say as how th' gemman and the Peeler, must both on ' em be up to snuff, or else they ' u'd never say as how 1 enpt the sneezer. Yer see, yer lordship, I vos inwited to a party, of vich my young ' oman vos vun LORD MAYOR.— Your young woman ; what do yon mean ? PRISONER.— Mean, vy, tli' voting ' oman as I pays my dewours tc to be sure, is there anythin' unkimmen in that, here - Love, yer vertchip, ' u'd penny- irate th' hart nnacohb r's lapstone, or, as StiiKs| mr sps in ins comic son 5 o' " Huff she Gem," " Oh, that Love, tormenting god, He holds us all beneath his nod 1" Veil, as I vos sayin', 1 vos a goin' to a party, an' as 1 vish'd to appear spicy, I don't say as how I raough n't have borrowed the sneezer, but upon tbe vord an' honour of a man, I didn't mean copping it. I. OUI> MAYOR.— Yon are a most incorrtgihle young thief, and I must certainly commit yon for trial, PRISONER.— Oh, yer lordship, don't say so, cos I'm safe to he lagged if I go there, they are on such intimate terms at th' Old Bailey vith my phisog. LORU MAYOR.— You shall ' certainly make your bow to them once more. PRISONER.— Oh, my Lord, if you vos ever in love, pity me, and deal in this here case sum- hairy. S'pose yer vos to glv' me three months and a " teszib'," or even two " teaz. iu's," I shouldn't holloa, a teazin's not a bad thing to circkylate the blood this cold weather. Do, my Lord, think o' my young ' oman, an' do not commit me. His Lordship, however, was deaf to the artful dodger's supplications, and committed him for trial, and the ju- venile lover left the bar loudly bewailing his hard fate, anil the sufferings his " young ' oman would undergo, but at last consoled himself in the following words : " Ah I veil, it's no use bein', down upon vnn's luck ; to speak In th' sub- lime langedge o' th' poet, " The coarse o' true love never did run smooth." BOW STREET. . IVV- vfrMH. tits!— A tall, thin - wan, with « malan- DREADFUL Ml mm OF A FEMALE II HUNGARY, J « errp gongs* for fttomiTita. No. XI, ( WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR " THE PENNY SUNBAY TIMES," BY THOMAS PREST.) derlv, anS refusing to get get out of the kennel until , The blowing horrible tragedy took p ace a few months back, and has excited the forcibly dragged from it by tbe policeman. It appeared deepest sensation in the neighbourhood solnre t. heroski was celebrated for her that Mr. Dionysins Brookbank, such was the name beauty all over the neighbourhood in which she res, ded, and ihe young men Were • . , , ,. , enthusiastic in their admiration of her. She was the only daughter of a wealthy man, aud Was considered an enviable choice, not only on account of her personal anil given by the prisoner, had- been attending the funeral of a relation, when it took siieh an effect upon him, that in order to raise his spirits, he raised the price of several quarterns, which he drank " alone in bis glory," on his way home, until he became iu such a condition as to be unable to keep his equilibrium, began to shout at the very top of his voice, and to abuse every person who passed him, insisting that they should take his arm, and when they refused, declaring " it yjjas very hard." The people, ou the contrary, however, seemed to think he was very soft, and consequently turned a dea lear to Ids solicitations, when he seated himself in the kennel, and stated that it was his determination, although it was very hard, that be would not rise from there for any one in Christendom. The policeman, in endeavouring to raise lnm, was pulled several times upon him. and they rolled over together in the kenuel, much to the amuse- ment of the spectators, but vice versa to the unfortunate officer, wiio could not help reiterating the words of the prisoner, that it was very hard, as he removed him with piuch difficulty to the station house. MAGISTRATE.— Well, Mr. Dionysius Brookbank, what have you to say to this charge ? PRiaoNKR.— Nothing, your worship, only that its very hard!— I acknowledge that I was pretty " fresh," but this is a free country, aud if a man is not allowed to enjoy himself, it's ve'ry hard! I took up my lodging in the gutter because I couldn't stand any longer, and the spectators chaffed me, and said I was where every dog ought to be, in the kennel, which I could not help think- ing was very hard. Because I didn't feel disposed to He accused Isoline of inconstancy ; she heard him with calmness, but did uot at- tempt to deny it. He left her in " a state bordering on frenzy. That same day Isoline i fled, it w » s supposed with Adolpbe. Rinaldo soon discovered a cine lo their place of retreat, and determined on a terrible revenge. He collected a number, el' his ser- vants ami partisans, about sixty altogether, and departed wuh a resolution of satiat- ion his vengeance. On their way they had to pass the house of Isoline's father. intrinsic charms, but for the rich donor it was expected her father would give heron her marriage. ! t was well known that Isoline had fixed her affections upon a young which they completely demolished, and destroyed all the valuable furniture it con- man named Adolfthe Zerpati, who " was but in humble circumstances, compared I tainerl. Fortunately.' the old man « T. J from home at the time, or, in all probability with those in which she was placed, and her father ha « refused his consent lo their ; his jiie v,.. uld have' fallen a sacrifice, Riualdo, with his followers, soon reached the union, and commanded her to look upon one Rinai. io I Xierrstee. teb as her future ! retreat of . the unfortunate Isoline and her paramour. The latter was immediately husband. Riualdo was a handsome young man, very . rich, nud Ve'ry proud.' They j murdered. in the most bar! irons manner before her eyes, and then she was dragged were married ; and it was noticed that Irons that ii-.. y, Isoline was never seen toj forth into the fields, stripped naked by the orders of her infuriated husband, and her smile again. It was well known that Rioaldo treated ' ier with kindness, but the1 person violated by the n tfians. She was afterwards taken to the. market- place, cause of her melancholy was soon rumoured about, it was whispered that laoliue,; bound naked to the cross, and after having been dreadfully scourged, was finally was unfaithful to her nuptial bed, and Adolphe Zerpa'i sail held uucoiitrouled pos-'; stoned to. death.. The assr. ssms then made their escape, and have hitherto eluded session of her affections. The voice of suspicion ever- day became louder, and at j the hands of justice, length it reached the ears of her husband, whose jealosy was immediately kindled. ' move directly, the policeman struck me with his trun cheon, \ yhicb 1 could not help feeling was very har d. MAQISTRATE.— You are fined five shillings for being drupk. PRISONER — Well, here is the money, but I must say that 1 considerkit's very hard ! ODD HUMANITIES? OLD SOLDIERS, SAILORS, FLAY- GOERS, & r.' it Is a wholesome sight to look upon a cheerful old man; that is, one whose spirits have not shrunk and withered with his sinews, but who has still enough of mental vitality left, to enjoy tlie little pleasantries Of life, to enter into the feelings" and sympathise with the young, and sepse euongh to refrain from perpetually administer- ing that most nauseous of medicines— that drug in every market— good advice. It is a wholesome sight to look upop, inasmuch a? it shews that ossification- of the heart and soul Is not the inevitable consequence of added years, and holds out the not ungratifylng prospect that we our- selves may form an exception to the preponderating mass of dull or querulous senility. It is pleasant to hear a gay, iarfulous old man discoursing of the days—" Oh the days when 1 was young!" and not without a flavour of mild morality; for who can listen to a weak, shrunk, sapless attenuation, recounting the mad pranks of his youth, or the lusty feats of his manhood, without feeling gently impressed with the frailty of " the brittle strength of bone," and the unsuhstantiality of youthful nerve and vigour within him, that feels as if it would never pass Slimy. But in general ( tlia mere's tbe pity) the conver- sation of old people is not pnrtch , o be'desiijerated. It is fiat, dry, lmsky, remorselessly circumstantial, even upon ueneral topics, while the detail of their personal expe- riences Is really afflicting. Prosperous old shopkeepers, merchants who have speculated largely and well, and in- deed, all who have thriven in the world by shrewdness and application, are, for the most part, intolerable. They get so villaiuously dostnafeil, 3USl UUlSSiil'S'y tUiaifc. a habit ' " ana nave ( j| ui\ v>\. « • * success, and insulting prudence ... - unfortunates, that It is insufferable As they approach nearer and nearer to the grave, tod there is often, among other matters, an Infusion of lip- deep declamation about the nothingness of this world, and an unaffected under valuatibfc of its good things, mixed up with ill- concealed, chuckling, self- satisfaction, at the shate they have ma- naged to appropriate to themselves, that is peculiarly nauseous. It is easier to bear with ihe unreasonable Cm;- plaints and bitter Invectives of tlx " poor, broken baol ! rapt." Taken as a whole, certainly the conversation ai ! experiences of what honest Hob Roy. denominate " weavers, spinners, and such like mechanical persons, h not genet ally of overpowering interest. On the coi trary, soldiers, sailors, players, travellers, retired. bigi - ; waymen, and other gentlemen not regularly inc'orporatt with the framewotk of society, are the most anpisingi , j reminiscent. They have travelled on the b'v- path of lit. , ! and not by tbe smooth, regular, dusty turnpike, and the v : conversation is proporlip nably fresh, bold, varied, and pi: ' turesque. An old soldier, for instate*, seated peaceably by 1 - Suiet fireside, " shouldering hi- crutch," " shewing he . elds were won," and discoursing with tbe miction of i professional enthusiast, of the battles, sieges, onslaught.-- —" pretty, very pretty onslaughts," as Major Dalget-, says— at yytiich lie Ijas beep present. It is worth whi listening to suph a chip of hnipaiiity. If he be a gor. talker, " and you an imaginative listener, how quickly - the little quiet room transfoimed into a. field of fig!- i The clangor of the trumpet rings through tlie a'r, at. 1 ; the cold, ciear, crutl bayonets, ( lash and glisten id ti ' sun, as he And- his comrades stand breathless, motionlcs i on the green hill side, with straining eyes, compressi ' ! lips, and distended nostrils,- to- receive the charce of tl . enemy's cavalry, that conies sweeping towards them is an amtul moment* ihe old roan pauses, and in fun: you hear tbe hollow tramp of their hoofs as thef cor, I thundering onward. Then lie narrates the feartul coi - elusion— the clash of bayonet ai- d sabre. — the sharp, deadly knell of the marquetry— the hoarse, savage roar, the cannon, and ail the death, . suffering, turmoil, Irel- and confusion that ensues when men's caged nsssio - are let loose, and. ihe tiger mains unheeded m his car'c j of blood; and as you look at the crippled narrator'c- f ; this— old, infirm, mutilated, " curtailed of man's fa' proportionsa WW piece of patch- work, made up f. the great part of cork, or common timber— it rtquin . some exercise of the imaginative faculty to bring it lion- j to you that this is the creature that has been an pctor COME OF ACE, w\ 3 i ita ; n - us lets fail his snows, What various pains our thoughts engage- Asthma, gout, iheumatlc toes, Most truly wc are had- in agel j tive faculties will swell and expand, and his narrations j ! evince a pleasant contempt for probability, that would: j throw Mrs. Opie into hysterics. The wind blows harder j ; than ever wind blew— the ships sail faster than ever ship ! ; sai'ed— and the wild legends and the wondrous super- ! stitions of the sea increase in wildness aud wonder, in fair i proportion to the decrease of the grog. And then he; takes you on shore, in some " far countree," and de- i tails w'ith the most laudable gravity, and with all the dignity and simplicity of truth, anecdotes of persons and tbfugs that are, to say the least, extraordinary. He will begin a story with some homely phrase such as " use is every thitig," and then go on to state how, when he lay in the Gulf of California, he became acquainted with ; a famous pearl- direr, who lived principally under water, and who, when necessitated to come to the surface, used to gasp like a fish if exposed for any great length of time to the air; or liow, in one of his South Sea trips he was on the most intimate terms with a lovely New Zeiand squaw, who lia I her bead shaved, and the back part of it painted and tattooed so like the front, or face, that lie never, for the soul of him, could tell which way she was walking, buckward or forvvard ! & c. & c. & c." j and this lasts until be becomes " three sheets in the wind," and upwards, yvhen he begins to tell it you all over again, whict^ is rather too much of a good tiling, at which period it is time to shake him by the hand, ! ami wish him a ve. y good evening. Of all landsmen, or dwellers on the " dull tame shore," commend me to the conversation of a veteran ; play- goer— oue of the- brightest links in the social chain between the generations of the past and present— the most compan unable of old men. Old! he is not old, at least in one sense. True, his body may be weak, | dried, shrunk, and sapless, but his mind his still green and juvenile; his reminiscences pay, cheerful, brisk, and spark ling. He has li- ed so much in the fairy re- : g; ons of fancy and imagination, that the wear and'tear ! bf existence has had less effect ui ou him, than upou more anxious and earthly men. Time has placed " the - imaa wirami iiiniiniiMjmnin : uushunuable burden of v. ars gentlv on his, back, for- been in all parts aad corners ofthe, vvprld, but can te; i , bearing altogether to pulverise his capabilities of en night like the stealthy panther, througli tin? forest, spring upon tiie umyary, enemy. Asyo. ii io.- t at hiin, - yo cannot 6elp. co| pc| j: fjj| jyitli tjie ps4i » ' Ki,- Tiwt ail ties Is grass," as it were." The conversation of an old sailor, is something beiu still. | t is more discursive and heterog ueotis, embrai ing all sorts of unconnected subjects. He begiti a stpt about Archangel, Lapland witclifs. and the North Cap which, ' somehow or oth r puts him ill mind of som tlliHEte either sakl, taw, or did, when the ship fay i and yvould have married a handsome girl, had j Is an exhaust ess store- house of past pleasantries ; there i enough to have ktioy- n li$ s " garnered up" huge masses ol miscellaneous criti- r-""* hl' 8 """ antiquat. d go sip— theatrical " - U! » • ! wit!,, : she only understood English what be warned to be ai; how he laid out ail his priz^- i cism— antiq'. atid go- sjp— " chit- chat af the money in pre- e, ts for bar, which shf g.; idrhumo..- r* dl, y day." half a cey uvy old— and ftoating recollect ions of excepted m dumb sho « , and how he had lived single fc r authors - ad actors', who e savtogs and doings have her sake, and never trui. y loved any other woman sine. , : become apocryphal, and wbose names and deeds laintly ore of Pollys - and Mollys excepted " iV., > gljmiper m so'm « tradition ofthe stage. Juv. nilel -. nine score oi ruin. ci^. •, v- 1-_ v- i-\ icjM. eu. . u- , ^ i) inin;- r in sou^- oiui iraumon ot tne stage ; ill ere are his sea- fights:; but; these_ U_ details with ; look with tespect, and even a tinge of deeper feelin; HARD UP! on. - illOCKtVr, F. XTRKM1TW. S, AIR—" ( hit of Place" Have any of you ever known What it is'har- d up to be, With hiinsTv belly have to moan If so, you'll pity me. Scores of cares mv heart oppress, Misfortune on me. frow ns; ' Tis sad to think of my distress. Done brawn for want of browns ! There's nothing half so sad in life To have nor bite nor sup ; It really inconvenient is, To be so very hard up ! Now only mark the change, d've see, When I had blunt galore; Such invitations came to me, They were a perfect bore I Tii fete Champetre, ball, or rout, ' I o breakfast, dine, or sup; I dine not now at home or out. For why ?—' Cause I'm hard up 1 There's nothing, & c. Ladies eyes beamed brightly then. Their smiles my heart did cheer; 1 was the handsomest of men. Without me they'd despair 1 Now, alns I they smile no more, Hut me ihey frown upon : My days of gallantry are o'er The/ imV with my fare are gone. There's nothing, & c. A la IV Or say onee I dressed, And through the parks did flounce; But now my style it is confess'd, Is changed to a la Bill Bounce ! I'm forced to live upon my wits, But they must sure be small; My fire- place it never fits, For I scarce can live at all. There's nothing, 4te. I take my breakfast at a pump, My dinner where I can ; A pound of steak cut from the rump, Makes me a happy man. I once drank wine, but only think, And such a fact regard, I now am water forced to drink, Which I, of course, think hard I There's nothing, dcc. I iu a garret lately dwelt, Kept by a widow dame ; She lived so well my heart did melt, I quickly felt love's flame. But soon 1 found it would not do, Though in debt for rent I'd run; She said that we should ne'er make two, For she would not be won ! There's nothing, See. She for her bill on me did dart, Said I, " That's ray intent;" But she would not accept my heart, Although 1 said ' twas rent. She had no pity for my pain, But thought it a mere bubble; So as she. single would remain, Why, I gave her the dmible.' There's nothing, See. I've lately grown so thin, oh, dear! That on a windy day I always stay at home, for fear 1 should be blown away 1 Some people at mv ways may carp, Where d inners I have bunted ; By them I'm often call'd a sharp, But oh, that I was blunted. There's nothing, 4c. My fate is sealed I am afraid, Of Fortune I'm the butt; Most people think me a queer hlc. de, But it seems I'm made to cut / Bitter is the draught I've quaffd, From sorrow's poison'd cup; But yet by ev'ry one I'm chafPd^ Though I ani so hard up ! The re's nothing, 4c. of thrustinc their offensive j the bay of Bengal, or off Buenos Avres; « e vviil efts; of carciesT mence a yam: h endless swmluglf ' as'th* jiolar nigh- S,„ tb A, fhevan « oach aboa'tsoik wUidgexpedWoii iii'iV' « r^ ojKoftbl,' ribbed ice, and leave oil U! t( i? middle ( if hjl-.^^ ti - were t'. set bare a begWmg, a'qiiddle, or Mtti'i; t"' 3eiaiifoyon' jni « !) IW what lie suffer? ® fijitp tlig lifat ayl —" " Siena Leone, in 17—.- H? h55 ^ ate nreat deal more coolw-: and sung froirf than the sol- w « fe not amiss on such a man. lie is no'mushroom dier, with on air of careless maguamimty, as if tbev 1 critic 5 his memory stretches back far beyond the at- Were, matters of necessary occurreu; e. He aHudjj io I ready faded glories of a Cooke, or th? now almost tbe lo- s. of- a Umb. qr two, as rather. uujv. cky tveeum - j shadowy greatuess ofa Siddous, Wbat countless ftwt, sftnuss, but as ,.! no very great jOiutquenre; theviterlng " first appearance-." has lie been present aVi uiefni ewu. r,. h| s^ iixf tthi! t he bad them, but I what hosts of sad ', « Jarewiells 1" He rti discourse to • . 1 Im. W* • Tnt awav, he managed, a; he bad whe. e a. • withal to " keep hini, to do tolerablv well wiftout , .. - ,.- , -.- .- - . . , en his Christina: j This is his ordinary chat; but when hebe^- ns to gethi- bygone age^ And, good juvenile, shouldst thou observe j un. efmly virtue, leave plays ^ and players, and not let an inordinate love o{ truth tempt thee to put the old man right. Of impertinences, that of re- minding a gentleman (.. f ormerly expres » ed opinions ia mere matters of taste, is most unseasonable and un- called for. These thlugs vary with the mood of mind of the speaker. And even au anecdote or story— things which have mors bf the tangible about tbem— will now and then swell, and shoot, and blossom In the mouth of a mail decently imaginative; they will be heightened or softened', a little more light here, and a little more shade there, according to the whim or humour of the moment. It is only your most prosaic af men that tell a « tory exacily alike tw ice. Therefore, check not the old where- yon of the favourites of your father, aijd your father's | play- goers enthusiasm, by a gluttouous love of correct- then-. father, and detail to yon the jests and anecdotes of a j ness; op, if thou art incurably afflicted with such an — « I 1. A NM/. A . J ,1 NL L I I..' 1 ^ *. .1 NLNUAVIN NFVRL gu--. o Sf - ^ _ t _ _ --- c * ••• ~ • dinner in the orange groves of Ceylon, aud smoked " hi i! ^ roe ou " board," TviV cosiversa'tiou manifestly ' improve? • aS ooe^ aional discrepancy in the statements, or finctu*- j lilce'gear, and go the ways and study the mathercatic » 9 pipe within a trifle or hoth the poles.' In fact he" he -.! ft becomes ricli and racy in the extreme j Ins exaggera: tions in the critical opinions of such a one, prithee do | and read the work* of Mrs. Hannah More. THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE. 1 ERNNESTINE DE LACY I OR, THE ROBBER'S FOUND LING. £ AM ORIGINAL ROMANCE, WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOB "• IHE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES," BY THE POPULAR AUTHOR OF " RLA, THE OUTCAST," " ANGELINA," " GALLANT TOM," " TALES AND LEGENDS OF OTHER DAYS," & C. Sc.] I Continued from our last.) CHAPTER VII. V, *• Sorrow upon sorrow thickens, As clouds ob- cure the brightness of a summer's sky ; All. all around Is black despair, Aad misery sits and triumphs o'er his victims." EDWIN AND ELFRIDA. We left the inmates of " T( ie Flagon" in a most pitia- ble condition, when Ranulph de Licy aiid Lou! St A- wo! ph quitted the inn to make their way to. the castle of the latter, that they might there '' consult. eor. ethej. qn. the best means to bring the actual niurditrc's ; Hgtity and save Godfrey from the fate with which, tinder present circumstances, he was threatened. Lord- St. Aswolph t. mk a most ! iw interest in the fit* of Godfrey, which wa> probably increased from the respect which he felt for Rauulph, h'. s father, and the rest of the family, but more especially pwing to the extraor dinary admiration. which t< - beauteous, the all ravi- hiog Err.' jtine had incited in his bosom. His lordship > va » v. in'tuore than ei .'- it- and. thirfy, aud was, as we have be- fore stared, a remarkably handsome and accomplished man. His amiable qualities, and the elegancies of his, mind, were also equal to those of his person, and he im- mediately gained the esteem of all who beheld him. When - any years younger, he had been a good deal on the continent, and it was supposed by many that he had met with some disappointment in love, for, when he returned to England, his manners were strangely altered, aud his wbeeks, which were once ruddy with the glow of youth aud health, had become pale and careworn; and his diilrits, that were once remarkable for their vivaciousness. were oppressed with an air of gloom, which rendered him quite a different being. But as to the real cause of this melancholy, no oue knew anything, noi even his lady mother, who, as might be expected, was exceedingly aggrieved to witness the sorrow under which the laboured, and was anxious to afford him all the consolation and alleviation which her affection could suggest. Whenever she questioned him upon the subject, he made some evasive reply, in fact, beseemed greatly distressed, and it would be a considerable time before he could regain his equanimity. " Dearest mother," he would say, " pardon me if I decline to impart to thee that painful secret, which could only render thee unhappy, and make me more wretched than 1 am. I pray thee, urge me not, or think me want- ing in love or duty to thee, my honoured parent, that I thus decline. Time, which effects all things, may ame- liorate my grief," and for thy sake 1 will endeavour to con- quer it." But it was some time ere the sorrow ofthe young man evinced any signs of being abated, and many were the wretched days and nights that the amiable Lady Celes tine passed, when she observed the melancholy state of mind under which her ton laboured, and his sister Mar- guerite, whose sonl was the abode of virtue, gentleness, and affection, tried every effort that her love for her brother could suggest, to elicit from his bosom the cause Of his heavy affliction, so thai she might impart to him that comfort and sympathy which she knew so well how to bestow. But all her efforts, like those of her mother, failed, and, at length, seeing how greatly their impor- tunities appeared to add to his anguish, they abandoned the attempt, and mentally uttered their fervent prayers to heaven that time might reduce and ultimately banish the trouble under which he at present suffered, and make t iem acquainted wilh the cause. This hope was somewhat realized ; the bustle and ex- citement of war soon engaged his attention, and gradually appeased, if it did not entirely triumph, over his secret sorrow; it settled into a calm but unshaken seriousness, which gave a deeper interest to his character, and excited the most fervent commiseration of all who knew him. Although Lord Raymond had had many advantageous opportunities of marrying, he had invariably declined, aad seemed, indeed, to have abandoned all thoughts of matrimony, and to have wedded himself entirely to the battle- field. Gallant indeed, were the deeds he had there performed, and many a stalwart Saracen had felt the weight of his arm. On the plains of Palestine he had performed prodigies of valour, and no one stood higher in the favour of his sovereign, Richaid the First, than Lord Raymond St. Aswolph. He had received many dis- tinguished marks of his esteem, and many were his proad compeers in arms who envied that skill and bravery they could not equal. As we have before mentioned, Lord Raymond had fre- quently been a visitor, when he was in England, at " The Flagon," and had often opportunities of seeing Ernnes- tlue; but then she was a child, and although lie could not but aduiire the sweetness and beauty which so deeply in terested all who beheld her, it was a very different feel- ing which now inhabited his breast, when he beheld her spring up into all the full bloom and freshness of woman- hood; possessed of every endowment, natural and ac- quired, aud with that delicacy and purity of mind which are woman's greatest charms. He telt at the moment that it was love which she had inspired in his breast; but when he recalled to his mind every lineament of her countenance, and remembered the strange resemblance which had so forcibly struck him, something far stronger than that passion he was convinced inhabited his bosotn. Wilh sentiments such as these, it may easily be con Jectured what was the emotion of his lordship at the awful catastrophe which had lately occurred, and which had placed Godfrey in such imminent peril; although, ot his innocence of the murder of the uiuoitanatc Esquire Reginald, he had the most perfect conviction. With the particulars of the circumstances which had placed Era Des- tine under the protection of Ranulpb de Lacy, he was un acquainted, but he believed that she was closely related to them, and he knew that she had been brought up with Godfrey ; that she was his foster sister, and he could not b « » suppose that she entertained the utmost affection for him; therefore, the shock Ihis event would iti all pro- bability give to bcr feelings, he feared might be attended with the most fatal consequences. Of the actual passion which subsisted between them, he had not any suspicion These thoughts, independent of the common feelings of humanity, prompted hiin to exert himself to the very utmost to establish tbe innocence of Godfrey, and to bring to punishment the assassins of Reginald. Ranulph aud his lordship cohvetsed some time upon mate of the dungeon in which thou so lately beheld hiia." i " Ah 1" gasped forth Ranulph, while his whole frame j evinced the powerful emotion which the Words o{ tbe > wizard excited, " what meanest thou ?" " That Godfrey, thy son, ba « purchased present i st/ ty | at the price of human bloc!., become tbe associate of - c j _ • i » *- » - ( sparsely, " tbou mockest ; isie wizard, his eyes ap- ii< su presumest to donbt me'. and learn the truth of what infamy and crime l" " Liar 1" shouted Ra me!" " IncredrI.*:, fool!'' cr nearing tc h fire, V a^ ait: Return. sthen, to the prison, 1 eav'." ^^ , And without saying another word, the wizard filed upon him a gtin of malicious triumph, and turning from him, almost immediately disappeared from sight, leaving Ra- nulph in a state of complete stupefaeilon. When Ranulph had in some measure recovered from the horror and amazement into which the appearance of the wizard, ami the words he had given utterance to, had thrown him, lis clasped his hands to his torehead with intense agony, and iu a voice ofthe most powerful emotion, cried : — ' Good God ! what have I heard ?— Can the assertions < if this awful being he true '— Impossible '. and yet have not one portion of his terrible predictions been already fulfilled, and why should I longer doubt him ?— Alas ! • here is a curse upon me and mine, and nothing hut misery appears to he allotted to us 1— Oh, let me back to the prison and learn at once the worst 1" With an agitated step he turned from the spot, and with the most horrible apprehensions retraced his way to the prison. He had not proceeded far when he perceived Lord Raymond running towards him with a wild air, aud the utmost agitation expressed in his countenance. On beholding De Lacy approaching him, he started, and in a voice which bespoke the anguish of his mind, exclaimed,- " Ah! De Lacv, thou returned? Hast thou, then heard of the terrible catastrophe ?" " What catastrophe, what has occurred ? Oh„ speak my lord, and end at once this horrible state of suspense 1' frantically cried Ranulph. " Godfrey has escaped from confinement," replied his lordship, " and tbe gaoler and three of the sentinels have been fuuud cruelly mmdered at their posts." " Horror ! horror !" gasped forth Ranulph, while the blood seemed all at once to freeze in his veins, " do not mine ears deceive ine ? Who hath been at work to do this? Who can have committed these bloody deeds for the purpose of bringing diserace upon my name, and to break the hearts of iiis distracted parents ?" " I beseech thee," said Lord St. Aswolph, repressing as much as possible his real feelings, " I beseech thee to compose thyself, good Ranulph, and walk with me to the castle, where we may consult together on this dread- ful circumstance, and I will tell thee everything as far as has come within my knowledge." " My God ! surely 1 cannot be awake," cried the dis- tracted De Lacy, almost unconscious of what St. Aswolph had last skid to him ; " it must be some frightful delu- sion that 1 am labouring under; Godlrey, illy son, my poor boy, stain his hands in human blood, rather than meet the foul charge which bad been brought against him ?— Impossible ! No, no, I cannot, I dare not believe it '.— This is the bloody work of others, and not of him. But to think of it is madness !— Let us to the prison, where I can at once ascertain the truth !" No,' no, with me, with me, De Lacy," answered Lord Raymond, taking his arm, aud forcibly leading him in the direction of the castle of St. Aswolph. ( To bt continued in our nfsxt.) WEE MARY DONALDSON. Upwards of half a century has now rolled away since Wee Mary Donaldson resided as servant, oil a fat m near B , in Cumberland, and though she moved in such a lowly sphere, yet the following facts, which in reality took place, will prove that the liind heart, which beats within her feeling bosom, deserved to be ranked wilh the most lofty and generons of her fellow- creatures. Mary's very diminutive height, had procured her the above appel- lation, and she was withal a very curious and uncommon woman; being very cleanly in her habits and appearance, at the same time, good- natured and orderly in the ex- treme. Such qualities are seldom coupled together; and when added to her benevolence aud generosity, which were executed on all occasions, formed a woman but rarely to be met with. But, without dwelling longer on her character, we shall at once gratify tbe leader by giving the following illustration :—, Wee Mary Donaldson had been presented with a ealf by her brother, and this she continued to nourish and bring up until it became a heifer. Now, Mary stood in need of some articles of wearing apparel, which she cal- culated, by selling her heifer, she would be able to pur- chase. So acting up to lier thoughts, she received in ex- change for her heifer, three pounds ten shillings; aiid a fair being held at -, at that time, site determined to repair thither, and purchase such articles as she wished to procure. The reader may as well be Informed that at that period it was a great treat, to those residing in the country, to attend any species of amusement, especially a fair. It was even considered a joyful occasion if a ped- lar should happen to stroll among iliem, and delight their eyes by a sight ofthe contents ot his pack. With a joyful heart did Mary walk towards the scene of merriment, bethinking her of what little presents would most meet the wishes of her fellow- servants and nrigh hours at home. She had arrived within siaht of the fair, and was quickening her pace, in order to arrive there as soon as possible, when a crowd of people attracted her attention, aud being eager to see all that was going for ward, she made her way towards them, and with consider able curiosity, enquired what was the matter?— but none of the by standers could, or probably would not inform her. She, however, succeeded in pushing through tbe crowd, and there beheld an holiest- looking man in the custody of two bailiffs ; and on putting the question to the man himself, he informed her that, he being unable to pay Some arrears of his rent, his landlord was about to cast him into prison ; lie had a wife and large family to- tally dependent upon his exertions for a livelihood, who must now beg their bread from door to door, while he should be unable to assist them when in gaol. The recital of his misfortune brought tears into the eyes of the kind- hearted woman; and being unaccustomed to such scenes, her generous heart expanded with sym- pathy and pity, while she enquired how much would- let him at liberty. The man named the sum for which he was ai rested, and it happened to be nearly the exact sum which Wee Mary had in her possession : she put her hand TO CORRESPONDENTS. urbest thanks are due to H. MANDBR MAT, A. W., N. T., and X. Y. Z. Accepted i THOMAS WATSOK, L. B., " MUTUAL LOVS," " ROSA,'" " STANZAS," and " THE POET'S SO- LILOQUY." ' NAUTICUS," S. P., THOMAS AWOERSON, and several other are informed that the Original Nautical Romance tailed " GALLANT TOM , OR, THE PERILS OF A SAILOR ASHORE A- KD AFLOAT, 1' mill he published in Penny weekly numbers, and Fturpenny monthly parts IN a fete days. Really me do not know what to do with alt tke poetical ef- fusions we have by us, some of which have be< u on hand for months, and others keep pouring in upon us in abundance. We must he very particular in those which we insert for the future. The same answer is applicable to our Charade coneoctors. The Riddle by HANNAH NOTEN, shall appear ; as will also the Charade by R. M. ( Newcastle- upon- Tyne.) The beautiful lines (" SILENT PRAYER,) by MR. ALE DOUALL, have only been delayed in consequence of an extraordinary press of matter. We will endeavour to find room fur them in our next number. " A WELCOME TO THE NEW YEAR," is declined. " LINES TO A LADY," by Buc," are intended fir insertion. We have never received the packet of letters mentioned by " ELLEN," neither have ice any communication) of her's en hand; " THB FORSAKEN HOME," shall appear in the number after next. The Tale by " DENNUON,'* " THE SURGEON'S ASVEN- TURK," and W. R , are accepted. " FRERE DIABLE," is under consideration. ,' A SUBSCRIBER FROM THE COMMENCEMENT."— 7Y. « successful Original Romance called " ERNNESMNE DK LACY," wll, for the accommodation of those readers who nish to have it in a binding form, he published in • Weekly Penny numbers, and monthly parts, Price Four• pence. ERRATTA.— From No- 36, " RUFUS," the creature of the BARON DE MORTON, in the romance of " ANGE- LINA," has, by mistake, been called " RFTHVEN." The period of the narrative should also have been 1625 and not 1795, as ridiculously printed in the second chapter, and which has unfortunately gone out in the work. These errors will be corrected in the second edition The promised remarks upon Socialism will form the sub. ject of our next week's leader. We feel obliged to MR. T. CUNNINGHAM, ( Exeter,) for the books sent to our office, which shall be taken par ticular care of, and sent home when done with. MR. S. WARWICK'S suggestion sh » U be attended to. MR. STONE'S packet unfortunately arrived too late. 3. Vr.— Yes. J. STACEY. ( Windsor.)- GALLANT TOM" is now in the press. JOHN JAMES Tox.^ In consequence of the press of more important matter. T. F. BAWR'S Stomas shall appear. E. B. T., ( Maidstone), and DAVID A., are accepted. We are sorry that the communication O/ HENRY VORES JUN., ( Dublin,) arrived too late. MARY WILSON.— Sixty- iix. Really we cannot alter our opinion of the poetical efforts of the author of " to CHRISTMAS DAY," " To THE ROSE," & C. We must decline them. We like the candour of M. WILLIAMS, ( Gloucester., and will readily give insertion to anything of merit from his pen ; but his " authography,'' as he is pleased to call it, is no proof of his " being able to spell as well as here and there ens." • « • All communications to be addressed ( post paid) to the Editor of THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, 231, High street, Shoreditch. THE PENNY PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE. into her pocket, drew orth her money, and placed it ill this painful subject, and at length, Lord Ravinoud advised the hands ot the prisoner, who, on settling the amount, the former to see his soil with all possible expedition, « va « imtamlv di « thnri> » , i. r and to advise with him to bear up against the misfor- tunes that had so suddenly come upon him, and that in the meanlime, he would use all his exertions to gain his liberation and exculpation from the frightful crime of which he was accused. He also promised to visit the young man In his dungeon as soon as he had returned from Sir Egbert de Cburcy's, with whoni he was going to consult as to the best way it would be prudent to proceed to attain the object of their wishes. Ranulph de Lacy, oil leaving the prison of his son, slowij' wended his way, in a gloomy inood, towards the lun, meditating in what manner it would be best for him to endeavour to soften the anguish of his wife and Ern- nestine. Completely abstracted from ail that was passing around him, he had* proceeded to some distance on his road, when, by the reflection of the sun, he all at once beheld the shadow of some object on the grass, and sud- denly pausing, he raised his eyes, and was astonished and somewhat startled, to behold, leaning against the withered trunk of a tree, and with his ficrce- lonking eyes fixed stedfastly upon him, the Wizard of the Glen. " Avaunt! fiend, devil!" exclaimed Ratiulph, " ob- struct not my path, thy sight strikes horror and disgust into my soul! Wherever thou approaches!, despair aud misery follow; even now, I feel that I am suffering under thine infernal spells! Avaunt, I say 1" " Hal ha! ha! Ranulph de Lacy, then thou feelestat, last- that power which thou didst venture to despise ?" said the wizard, in that peculiar tone of voice which could not fall to impart horror to the minds of all those who heard it, at the same time a demoniacal smile over- spread his terrific features. " ' lis well, ' tis well, all must acknowledge and fear the power of Hal of. the Glen ! — Did I not tell ihee that the girl JEruqestiue would be the cause of mlserv to thee ?" " Thou di'lst. dread being," replied thebowyer, " but Innocent aud guiltless as is that beauteous maiden, how Is itpo3* ible?" " Thou wilt see anou. Did I not prognosticate all wlr'- h has now happened to thy son?" True, too true," answeied Rjiiulph, " but why tor- tare roe ?" " Thou bast yet much more to suffer, Ranulph de i. i' y ' said the wizard. j," Gidt'rey is no longer the in- was instantly discharged, aud taking the baud of his be- nefactor', as the tear of gratitude started to his eye, he expressed a thousand thanks ; called her bis preserver, and the preserver of his family from ruin ; and, after being informed wlu re he could find her three months from that day, when he expected he would be able to ra- pay her the mm which she had lent him. After satisfy- in:? him on this point, Wee Mary returned to her home without a single present to bestow, or an article in which she stood in need, but with the proud consciousness of having done a good action towards a fellow- creature in distress. Arriving at home, all gathered round her in ex pectation of seeing what she had purchased. The chil- dren clung round her in expectation of their usual pre- sents of sweetmeats, when Wee Mary had been at the town. But what could equal the astonishment of all, when she modestly told her simple story, and ( heir re- proaches for her, as they said, so simply allowing herself to be cheated out of her money; and one enquiring to whom she had been so kind, her reply was,—" Aw was sae dinted, aw never ast the man his name." iivery one appeared certain that she would never have any chance of knowing his name— and Wee Mary herself began to en- tertain some suspicions that she had been foolish, bur felt happy in reflecting that her intention was good, and whether " she was repaid iu this world or not, her reward was doubly sure in the world to come. Time passed quickly, and she had almost forgotten the circumstance; but, on the appointed day, a person enquired for Mary Donaldson, and being directed to the place where she was, paid her the sum which she had lent him, and thereby freed him fron the terrors of a prison. He re- newed bis thanks, and assured her of his never- dying gra- titude, aud taking her to the nearest inn, gave her what ever lie conld force her lo eat or diink. Wee Mary has long rested from her cares In this world; but the recollection of her many shining qualities remains unimpaired in the minds of those who were acquainted with her If all the world were like her, how few would be the evils which beset mankind. But, alas! tyranny oppression, and cruelty, to one another, may be found In every rank and condition of life, caused by unsalable love ot lucre, overbearance, and pride, which appear to cling to mankind with an irresistable force; R. M. Newcastle- upon- Tvne, The vast benefits resulting from cheap periodicals when conducted in a proper manner, and with a judi- cious attention to the morals of society, cannot be dis puted by any reasonable person, an. d the good they are effecting is daily becoming more apparent. Some few years since, amusement or instruction was almost en tirely excluded from the. poorer classes of the people for it was only to be obtained at a rate which was en- tirely beyond their means of purchasing; but now, for a penny, the humblest individual may derive the most abundant intellectual enjoyment, and read all the beau ties of the most eminent authors of the past and present age, collated with care, and disencumbered of the weight of matter, which might not come witbin the scope of their comprehension, and might have the effect of at resting their attention from thai portion which was redly useful. Whereas, in a cheap publication, ex- tract's of the best passages are made with care, and the very spirit and body of the work is impressed upon their raiuds with irresistible force. Independent of this, the spirit of enterprise being let loose, encouragement it given to men of genius, who before were kept iu obscu rity, unless they could boast of an aristocratic name, or some noble patrou, aud thus many of the cheap jour- nal of the day contaiu the most valuable and talented original productions, from authors who might have otherwise died unknown, and the labours of years, " by the midnight lamp," have been lost to the world ! Now genius unites with the spirit ofthe times, and all exert themselves to the utmost in the propagation of that which may be useful to their fellow- creatures. ' Tis very pleasant to see one's name in print; A book's a book though there be nothing in't!" So says the poet, and the truth of the couplet cannot be denied, but although the love of seeing one's name in print prevails in the minds of most persons who are seized with the writing mania, lamentable proofs of such weakness are more frequently to be found iu the expensive journals, where favoritism reigns to tin ex- clusion of humble genius, and the sense. ess uothing of some booby lordling patron are allowed to fill their pages, insdlting alike to common sense, and injurious to the interests of those who depend upon the fruits of heir abilities for a subsi- tence. In the cheap periodicals, however, favoritism is un- known ; they have no one to please but the public at large, that is the only patronage upon which they ha. e to depend, and consequently only that which is likely to deserve that patronage, and secure it when received; the acceptance ofthe article depends entirely upon their intrinsic merits, and the name or station of the author is not suffered to have any undue influence. Thus, aspiring genius is fostered and encouraged, and perhaps the stepping stone placed to their future fortune and re- putation These are some of the advantages which the cheap li- terature of the day has been productive of, but there are others of no less importance. Formerly the readiest means of reading which the poorer classes had, was a newspaper, which they usually resorted to a public- house for the purpose of perusing; this they could not do with- out the expense of a pint of beer, and perhaps more, which gradually might lead them to intemperance, cause them to neglect their home, their families, their work, and ultimately bring ruin and distress upon them. On the contrary, for one penny, a person may purchase a publication containing doul Die the quantity of useful information to that which is to be found in a newspaper, read it aloud to his wife and children, by his own fire- side, and thus save himself from the indulgence in that which only robs his pocket, and injures his con- stitution - enjoy the comforts of his domestic hearth — and have the gratification of contributing to the im- provement of his own mind and those of his family. Thus have we briefly stated the good which the well- conducted portion ofthe eheap press is calculated to THE BANDIT'S REVENOC. | Theodore de Larri was a young nobleman, singularly endowed by Nature, to a remarkably handsome parson, and a countenance that might have furnished a model for the chisel of Lorraine, was added { the most agree- able manners, and a mind replete with every nobla sen- timent. " At the time our tale opens, Theodore was on his travels through Spain anJ Germany, to rejoin his army. He being of a fearless disposition, and love of danger being one of his most prominent characteristic^, lie determined to pursue his route alone. It was a beautiful morning when Theodora set out on his journey, one of those mornings fur which Spain is so remarkable. The sun herd just began to peep from behind the hills, gilding the verdant valleys which stretched themselves as far as the eye could reach, while its golding beams poured. dir. ecily on the rolling cataract that watered the vale, which had gained the romantic appellation of the" Vale of Blood." from a dreadful conflict which once took place there, between a troop of Philip's soldiers, and a numerous band of robbers who infested the neighbourhood. So dreadful was the slaughter on the side of the soldiers, that, out of one hundred and fifty, only seven escaped. Theodore crossed the fiail bridge that spanned its dark waters; when he reached the opposite side, he paused for a short time, to gaze upon the flood beneath him, and imaginations conjured up before his eyes the scene of slaughter from which it derived its name, and the desperate forms of the robbers dealing death and destruction around them. " Oh ! that I could have bees there," he ejaculated, his heart swelling with a soldier's pride, " I would have routed this redoubtable Black Barnes— ibis tyrant ofthe woods,— this terror of Spain,— this daring cap- tain,— he should ere this have graced a scaffold.— Ob 1 that I could discover his haunts!" Black Barnes was the captain of a numerous band of banditti, which infested the wild and unfrequented parts of the country ;] and his daring deeds of murder and robbery were the terror of every one. Numer- ous were the unfortunate travellers who had been robbed and murdered by this, mercenary baud of villains. His secret place of rendezvous was unknown ; and though the authorities had offered the tempting reward of three hundred dncats for bis apprehension, yet his vigilance defied all their efforts, and his au- dacity increasedevery day. What rendered the band more formidable, was the dis- cipline which he maintained. Ilia spies were numerous, and no part of Ihe country was secure from his depre- dations. His deeds of plunder and. blood were chiefly transacted under the veil of night; and when all nature lay wrapped in repose, these denizens of the forest would start from their concealment, and perform those diabolical acts, for which they were so celebrated. Among his confederates in guilt, was a deserter from the king's army, named De Bafts, who partook largely of his captain's ferocious disposition. Indeed, so ter- rible was the name of Ihis band, that they oad gained among the peasantry the appropriate appellation of « The Black Band." ' Theotlore now pushed bis course towards tbe roman- tic and intricate forest of Mantebar. He had been cautioned previous to his departure, to endeavour, by all possible means, lo traverse the forest before night- fall ; and, though 110 fear of bandits, or other evils found a place in his breast, yet the prospect of being benighted in its mazes was not very pleasant; he, there- fore, moved forward with alacrity, and ero the sun had began to sigk in the bosom of the heavens, he was " far away in the forest green." * * • • In a spacious, but gloomy cavern, whose naked and rugged sides were fantastically decorated with swords, fii- tols, and guns, hung up in warlike profusion, and ighted by the glare of many torches stuck in the wall, were assembled a band of ferocious looking mea, elothed in the most wild attire. Some were seated oa the naked rock, some lay buried ia repose, while others were deeply engaged in the, mysteries of the dice- box. But in the greater portion were assembled around a huge table in the centra tbe cavern, draining huge goblets of wine. " A song, a Bong," shoaled several of the revellers. " Aye, a song," reiterated Iba Whole band. In obedience to their wishes, one of tbe carouters sung In a fine manly v » ice, the following lines :— " A bandit's life is truly blest, Of every comfort he's possess'd ; He's wine and wealth, and fears no foes, So let our buoyant spirits flow." Then drink, and drive away dull care, Let rosy wJne defeat despair. " Hah 1 the signal," interupted several voices, " Ihe captain comes;— Silence I" at this juncture a trap door was raised in the middle of Ihe cavern, and the figure of the ferocious Black Barnes emerged there- from. At his approach, all the band showed the ut- most reverence,— they immediately stood uncovered,— unsheathed their swords, and stood round the cavern In regimental array. The captain being seated, made known his intention of removing his" brave band,*' as be termed them, to a more safe retreat, as be had heard a slight whisper among the authorities, ( whither he bad been in the disguise of a Spanish nobleman,) that they had discovered their hiding place. He had some cause to suspect < hat De Batts had been playing the part of a traitor, and, if so, be should share a traitor's fate. De Batts had latterly been jealous of Barnes, sad he was resolved to effect his destruction in some se- cret manner, and still manage to carry on his nefarious pursuits with the other banditti. To effect his purpose, he hastened to the Inquisition, and Informed them of their retreat, and thereby gained the reward offered, and was himself pardoned. A day was fixed for the villain De Batts to betray his captain, and he was making preparations for se- curing him by the soldiery at the time he was in league with the band. At the head of the Inqusition was a nobleman of the name of Count Rousseau, who had formerly been the rival of Barnes for the hand ofa neighbouring noble's daughter, but tbe damsel afterwards discovering the person she had for a suitor, rejected him, aud Count Rouseau was declared her accepted husband. Ow ing to this jealousy, Barnes was resolved to effect the downfall of the coont. Presently, the sound of dissentient voices was heard outside the| cavern, and Theodore and De Batts soon presented themselves to the astonished band, the former being foiced in by the villain Batts, who had waylaid him iu the forest, and robbed him; but, fearing be would get the better of him with his sword, he was under the necessity ef Handcuffing him, which he accomplished with great dif- ficulty. As soon as Black Barnes perceived the entrance of the young man. be ordered him to be uninanacled, wilh permission to go at large over the cavern. " Seize that villain De Batts," exclaimed tbe captain, in a voice of ihunder, and knitting his brow, " he is a traitor, and as such he shall perish by the hands of his brave comrades. Seize him instantly." Theodore was one of the first to lay hands on De Batts, who as soon as he saw Theodore, made an attempt to draw a pistol from his belt, but was prevented by one of ihe robbers depriving him of his weapon. Finding himself thut defeated, he maaaged to apply a whistle to his mouth, which he blew vehemently. This was the signal for the approach of the soldiery of the Inquisition, which they no sooner heard than a rush was made, and in a short space of lime, the cavern was filled by the military, headed by Count Rousseau. A rush was iui mediately made towards the seat of Black Barnes, who, as soon as he perceived Iheir intentions, exclaimed:— " Back, back, advance but oue step, and you are hurled headlong into destruction— I have it here, with which I can blow up this eavern and all its contents; back, back I say." The soldiers, as if in dread of his silence, you shall be put to death in my presence, and in that of your brave hand," curling his lip, and a con- temptuous smile upon his countenance as he uttered these last words. Black Barnes, thinking it In vain to repHlse tbe move- ments of the military, drew from his vest a pistol, which he fired at Count Rousseau, but failed in the attempt. Incensed at this aim on his life, he imme- diately ordered that he should have the torture admin- istered to him— the rack— that torture that ho had in. • dieted upon numberless harmless and innocent indlvi. duals. When upon the rac_ k, his countenance assumed a ghastly hue. his eyes flashed Are, and his whole frame was frightfully dixorted. In the meanwhile, one of the band, who had not been detected by tbe soldiery, seeiag the situation of his comrades and his captain, formed the horrid resolution of blowing up the cavern, rather than perish on the scaffold. With this intention, he hastened to the powder maga- zine, wilh a lighted torch, and commenced the work of destruction. The powder being damp, did not » t first ignite, which allowed him time to make hii escape. Rousseau, seeing smoke issuing from the sides of the cavern, was on Ihe point of making his retreat, bui before he could do so, an awful explosion took pl,| ce — another— and another, and he was in danger of ijne blown up alive. " Hal ha I ha I" fiendishly exclaimed Barnes, ' are your Intentions then defeated?— in one yf place will be a pile of ruins. Ha I ha!" He had scarcely uttered thi » e words, \ tr-- CA. tern, and all Its contents, was blomn up ift) be air, a ; d soldiers and splinters of rocks were flying ab > us in k, 1 directions, la a short lime, whst was once: tk » retreat of Black Barn » s, was a heap of smoking ruins, ." V explosion was heard for many miles round, ana aisasss- rous are the tales related of the daring captain BARNES. . " ' .. - TR?-*--'/ : \ do, and it is gratifying to see that the public is weekly becoming more convinced of the truth of the above re- 1 threats, immediately made a retrogade movement marks, from the avidity with which every work of merit is purchased, aud the extensive circulation they imme- diately obtain, " Barnes," exclaimed the count, " I swore to effect yoar downfall, an^ now the time is come. Resistance is useless, and dulese you conneht to accompany us in A LAMENT FOR BARTLEMY FAIR, BY A SHOWMAN. ( From Tilt's Comic Almanack.) Oh! lawk! oh! dear; oh crimeny me; whu. ? dn. ra- right sin and a shame. To try to put down old Bartlemy fair! I dot t ; who's to blame; Whether it's the west- end nobs, or the city f -: s _, found ' em ! 1 could cry with vexation ! But this 1 will say, if it's the latter, they aiiit fit wti, city- wation. What is to become of all us poor showmen, as has em- barked every penny we've got, In learned piss", and crocodiles, and sheep with two heads, and wax Thurtells, and what not ? It's werry unfair to make us an exception to the general rule of the nation; You ort to consider our wested rights, as free- born Britons, and allow us " a compensation." When you stopp'd the rich West Indy merchants from dealing in poor African niggers, You allowed them twenty millions of money • and surely, showing a few hinnocent wax- figcers' ' Aint worse than stealing one's black feller- creturs, and carrying ' em oB, and treating ' em worse than swine • And, let me tell you, a lamb with two tails is much* more preferabler than a cat with nine. Oh! dear; oh! dear; what is to become of us all, from Mister Wombwell down to the penny peeps ? We're wuss off than the poor silenced muffin- man or the poor unfortinat forbid- to- go- up- the- chimblv sweeps ! ~ ' It's fine talking, taking to other businesses ; and eoinr out as lackeys aud servants, ifegs! Who, d'ye think, would take, as lady's- maid or nurs'rv governess, poor Miss Biffin, without either arms or legs ? And what great duchess or eountess would like to have walking behind her, in Regent- street, With a powdered head and long cane, poor Thomas Short, the Lincolnshire dwarf, as measures onlv three feet ? ' Or what gentleman in the park, driving his caboua Sunday afternoon, would choose For his tiger, stuck up behind in top boots and white gloves, the Nottingham youth, as stands seven foot three in his shoes ? To say nothing of the indignity of tbe thing • for how is a man to go to submit to come down From being a royal Red- Indian prince, to nothing but a poor common day- labouring clown ? And the Siamese twins, oh ! Gemini, they might adver- tise in the Times for a cent'ry, Before any merchant would take them into bis connt- ing- house, to keep his books by double entry. And now Mister Bunn's given up Drury- lane to Mister Musard and his French and German crew What is ihe dancing elephant, and the performing lion and the acting horses and dromedaries to do » And the poor Albanians, with their red eyes and lonr hair so flowing and white ? By Jove, such news as this is enough to make every ineh of it turn grey in a night. And the Indian juggler, poor fellow! neat as Imported from the coast of Delhi,— He may swallow swords and daggets long enough before he's able to fill his bellv ! We've all our ups and downs in this world, it's said — or, at least, used to be ; ' But " Marshall Mayor" won't leave so much as a poor single up- and- down for we. And one thing I must take the liberty to say, I don't see why the poor people's fairs Should be put down and done away with, while the rich fancy people are allowed to keep up theirs ; And as for the morality, it does seem rather funnv to shut up Bartlemy fair o' Mondays, Whiie they keep open their genteel wild beast- show in the Regency Park o' Sundays ; Our booths are our homes ; and we've nowhere to go to when these are taken, They must recollect that tbe learned pig alnt a lord like the learned Bacon. The learned pig may carry himself ofl" to Newgate- market— it is but just over the way, And the alligator may indulge himself shedding croco- dile tears for ever and a day 5 The elephant may pack up his trunk, for Smitlifield he must abandon ; And the mare with seven feet may cut her stick, for she hasn't a leg to stand on : The wonderful calf with two beads had better pack up his traps and begone; For the lord mayor hasn't no fellow- feeling only for calves with one. The pelican had better go and peck his bowsum some- where else, and not stop here in such distress,! A- bringing up his four little ones ( with a drop of blood a- piecc) to be only pelicans of the wilderness; The industrious fleas may hop the twig as soon as they like, for one thing is very clear, If they aint off of their own accord, the lord mayor will soon help ' em off with a flea in their ear! As for myself, I've made up my mind what to do 1 though, of course, I ean'tquite keep down mv sen- sations, In parting with a hanimal which I have so long looked on almost as one. of my own relations; But I shall sell ray gigantic Durham heifer ( and so put an end to their noises and rows), And then— as the next nearest trade— I shall take to waccination, and go and live at Cowes ! The moment a man takes a pipe, he becomes a philo- sopher :— it is a poor man's friends— it calms the mind, soothes the temper, aud makes a man patient under trouble. It has made more good men, good husbands, kind masters, indulgent fathers, and honest fellers than any other thing in this universal world.— Sam Slick. A STRANGE EYE.— In 1654, there lived at a place called Bush, near Versailles, a woman, the iris of whose eyes was divided into 12 sections, forming an exact dial, the figures resembling those 011 small watches. She was born with this peculiarity, and yet had the perfect use of her s'ght. A MERMAID. — In 1812, Mr. Toupin, of Exmouth, published an account of having seen a mermaid. He was out on an excursion in a boat, with a party of ladies and gentlemen, and when they had got a mile to the South- east of Exniouth bar, their attention was arrested by a very singular noise, by no means unpleasant to the ear, and thev observed, about 100 yards from them, something which they supposed to be a human being. But, on approaching nearer, they discovered it to be the mermaid. He gives an accurate description of the animal, which was seen by the whole party for many minutes. • • < I f THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, ANP PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. ANGELINA J --- •- OR, THE MYSTERY OF ST. MARK S ABBEY AW ORIGINAL ROMANCE. • T THE AUTHOR Of "* 1A, THE OUTCAST t OR, THE oipsv SIRL at ROSEMARY DELL," & C. ( Continued from our last.) Angelina made no reply to the observations of olnl Deborah, ( for such was tbe name of the woman,) br. t, of course, she could sot help feeling the utmost dis- gust at the inhumanity which she evinced. " Take it altogether," continued the old woman, " I think she has been treated very leniently by those whom she has so grossly offended | and, after all, she nay thank the clemency of the baton for pardoning bar. However, it is no use talking about this matter— it If all over now, and Bridget will soo « get over it, no doubt, though I do not think she will ever be on very good terms with her husband again." " Friends with a miscreant I— a wrelch like that I" exclaimed our heroine, with a shudder of disgust. " Again I warn you, young lady," said Deborah « ' to be a little more circumspect in your language, es- pecially towards Rufus, for I would not stand in the situation of those who olfend him, for all the world — Even my lord, the baron, fears hiin." *' And why should he fear one who is his menial)'' hastily inquired Angelina. Tk, nM " oman seemed confused, and at a lots what rtply lo tnafcs, but, at last, she said,— » i | not me « n to say that the baron lives in fear of Rliftis, but that he would not care to but ptha!— • » J talk! What business is it of mine or yours? Only I would seriously advise you to alter jour behaviour ' owardt the baron as soon as possible, and •• ill Siii It to your advantage." But do you think they will suffer me to see Bridget ss in ?' iredour heroine, in an anxious tone. " W1-- a- she will not have it in her power to aid it- tr. y det'gnwhich you might have to escape, and, , ably, if sh « had, would not be inclined to rui* an\ iskfi'fer - he sufferings she has undergone, I do Hot iord will have any objection, that it, if yon outinue obstinate in rejecting the suit of the not remain many minutes, and after giving some In- structions to the woman to be careful of her charge, he retired. On the third morning Rufus again made his appear- ance, and looking sternly upon Angelina, bade her follow him, at the same time pointing to the door. The maiden felt an irresistable sensation of horror creep through ber veins, whenever her eyes encoun- tered this ruffian j and wondering what could be the cause of his present behaviour, and what his inter,- dons, she hesitated, and did not offer to do as he com- manded her. " Did yoiiaot hear me, young lady," said the wretch, scowling, " or are you disposed to treat m v orders with disdain {— Attend me, I repeat. As for you, old Mother Deborah, you can take your place among the other servants in the hall,— your services are dispensed wilh for the present." " Where would you take me, and Jwhat is your pur- 1 beloved parent, the idea of her new acquaintance pose ?" demanded the alarmed damsel. " I w ntld occasionally present itself to her imagination. " Bah !" coarsely exclaimed Rufus, " Why am I to I On the following morning, the bodies of those brave he pestered with questions ? You have no occasion to men who had fallen in the attack and defence of tile fear, I do not intend any harm now ?" I chateau, along with the remains of its late owner, were Old Deborah had made her exit the instant she re- J consigned to a soldier's grave in the garden, and when eived the orders of Rufus, and Angelina knowing it I the usual volleys had been discharged, which announce would be useless to offer to oppose his will, and com- I that a warrior has been committed to tbe tomb, lo whom could this desolate girl look for protection, save to him who had shielded her from a fate which she Ireaded even worse than death ? She, therefore, ap- pro tftk see th do not If, tb- m, the only terms upon which I can hope to .; » « her, s? e by encouraging the base vows of one who i, odious to me," laid our heroine, " there is no hope." " Well, Miss, you know best," said old Deborah, be I can only say that you are very silly, and thai there art many females, in a far better station than your self, and who could boast » f more attractions, who would jump at Ihe chance you have gol. A poor peasant's niece, indeed, presuming lo resist the offers of a nobleman!— W « U, to a certainty, the world has come to a very pretty pass indeed." Old woman," exclaimed Angelina, solemnly, » nd unable any longer to restrain the expression of her disgust and indignation—" old woman, totftring as you are on the verge of the grave, your hair silvered by age, are you not ashamed to talk thus, and to become the panderer to the vices of a Villain., whon. it would be wrong to call a man 1 Is youf mind callous to all sense of feeling, to all tense of virtue, and iniegrity ?" " Virtue I integrity I" reiterated the old woman fiercely, and looking spitefully upon our heroine, " boity, toity, and have 1 lived to all thaae years to be taken to task by a mere girl > Virtue, iadeed I I tell you what it is) I have lived three- score years and ten in the world, and I jittver suffered a man so much as to press my lips." If old Deborah had said that she had lived ihe num- ber of years in. the world, which she had mentioned, and Ihat not a man had jyer deigned to look at hei wilh any other feeliijgrtflan those of disgust and de- testation, she would fen nearer the truth. For she had never been remarkable for her beauty, or the sweetness of ber disposition, unless a small pug nose, little pigish eyes, red blowsy cheeks, and a very Urge mouth, might be considered fascinating, and a soar, crabbed, envious, spiteful, and waspish temper might be thoughtamiable traits in a person's character, Angelina, however, made no farther observation to ber, but walked into the adjoining room, leaving the old woman muttering and grumbling to herself, at tbe tame time that the was plying at her needle. Our heroine soon became abstracted from every thing else, in mmlnating upon her present situation and the words and importunities of the baron, which he seemed determined to follow up in the most inde- fatigable and resolute manner, and how to escape the dreadful fate impending over her, she knew not. There was no one near to relieve her mind, or to impart lo ber botom any hope or consolation. Then the idea of her lover, Hugh Clifford, being confined in the gloomy precincts of a dungeon, aud left to the mercy of one who bad every reason to hate him, recurred to her memory, and caused a sensation in her bosom which was almost insupportable; and then to know that his restoration to liberty was nearly hopeless, and the on- certalnty of whether or not the baron had told the truth when he said that he was accused of crimes which ren- dered his life forfeited to the offended laws of hi- country, caused more horror and agony in her breasi than anything else. She was confident that Hugh Clifford's disposition rendered him incapable of beinp guilty of any crime for which he might merit such a punishment, but then she was aware that the nature ol the life he led, must tnake him numerous enemies, and that there were man) who would not hesitate to trump up any chargeB against him, which might be the means of putting an end to his career. Hugh Clifford had long been an eye- sore to the Government, and the suc- cess which had invariably attended him, made Ihem anxious to get him and his comrades in their power, but hitherto all their endeavours to effect that objeel bad signally failed, and it was, therefore, not at all un- likely that lhay would resort to any means which might ultimately place in their hands, and at their dis- posal, the much- dreaded smuggler captain. " Oh, that he would abandon tbe dangerous calling, said Angelina, " would to Heaven that he had never taken to it. Alasl what nntoward circumstances could ever have driven him to such a hazardous and disrepu- table course of life? Had it not been for Ihat, bow tiiippy might we not both now have been, joined to- gether in——" She suddenly checked herself, and added,— " A las I no— that could not have been; our union is forbidden, and fate seems lo have conspired against us, and to have ordained that we shall be for ever wretched." Her eyes now accidentally fell upon tbe portraii and in a moment the strange circumstance which had been the means of saving her from the insult which the Baron de Morton had offered to her, ruthed upon her recollection, and gave rise to a new train of reflec- tion!. Could the sounds both she and the baron ima. . fined Ihey had heard, be real, or meie phantasy ? li might have been the wind, but yet the souud was so distinct, so hollow, and so impressive, that she felt un- able to arrive at such a conclusion- She remained for several minulea with her eyes intently fixed upon the portraii, and as she did so, they filled with tears, and the felt a sensation dart through her bosom, and throb around ber heart, she was at a loss lo account for, bui would not have banished it from her mind upon any account. The haish and disagreeable voice of old Deboroh calling her to dinner, broke in Upon these melancholy meditations, and she re- entered the sitting- room. To Judge by the looks of the old harridan, which were a shade or two more unpleasant than usual, it would appear that she had not forgotten the remarks which our heroine bad made to her, and she seemed determined to show all the spleen she could towards her. But Angelina was quite indifferent to her beha- viour, and, in fact, took no notice of it; but thinking il was the best plan, she resumed tbe silence which she had at first assumed towards her. Deborah never left the apartments the whole of that day, but that circumstance did not annoy Angelina, RS tbe was too fully occupied with her own thoughts to teka any notice of her. That day, and tbe next pasted away, and the baron did not come near her, while Deborah remained con- stantly with her. Once Rufut looked in, but he did mining herself to the protection of Providence, fol- lowed Ihe way which the ruffian- conducted her. He led her along the gallery, and across a colridor, . _.. J|) , _ r _ ... , n until they arrived at another wing of the tower, and in I plied to M'K for advice under ihe trying circum- | carried across his arm, and instantly forced her int.- i second gallery of less extent than that they had J itances in which she was placed, and his counsel was as ] d boat, in which four lusty rowers were seated at theii oreviously traversed, he stopped at a large oaken door. I lisinteresled and sincere as if his own sister had made i oars. Another individual sat muffled at the stern, who which he unlocked, and motioning Angelina to follow, I die application. He recommended her to go into the | s; ave the boatmen orders to proceed ; and in obedience he entered, and our heroine obeying him, found herself I neighbouring toiyn of San Sebastian, where she would } to their stalwart strokes, the frail bark danced across in a suite of a| » rtments timilar to the one she hadjust j it all events, be exempted from the dangers and alarms I the bubbling waves. When they had rounded the castle o which a continuance in ber present residence. would I hill, and were clear of the entrance of the harbour, the expose her; and, as he had received orders to guard i inufilings were removed from the head of the terrified the prisoners who had been taken in the late action J maiden, and by the fast waning twilight, she perceived into the above town, he offered the protection of the | that her fellow voyager was El Dorno. She neither party he commanded, to escort her thither, if agree- 1 uttered remonstrance nor complaint, but lifted up her Ale to her inclinations. Afier some little Consldera- I soul for aid 10 Him whom she had been taught from her lion, the proposal was a^ epted, and the party set ofl l infancy to revete; for the glimpse of the haughty on their route to the town"; The lady was seated on at. J Spaniard's countenance, which she had obtained, shewed mbling palfrey, and every attention which our cap- 1 the demonical pleasure he felt in having her again in his tain could bestow, and every moment he could spare | power, and she turned away in horror and disgust. But Torn the discharge of his duty, he was by the side of I as they passed along the waste of waters, the billow. quitted, only they were hung round wilh tapestry ofa dark purple, which gave Ihem a sombre aspect, yei they were furnished in the same style of elegance, and hey appeared to have been fitted up for her recep- ion. " It is the will of the Baron de Morton," observed I Rufut, " that these should henceforth be your apart- ments, and doubtless you will not be worse pleased with them than those you have just quitted." Before Angelina could make any reply, and the in- stant Rufus had finished these observations, a faini | mahider, Ignorant of the real force opposed to thetn, offered only a desultory and Ineffective opposition. The mansion was, therefore,, speedily cleared aud gal- lantly relaiued during the remainder of the day by } he party who had so unceremoniously entered upon pos- session. The action having been decided in favour of the Queen's troops, and the soldiers resting afler their deeds of daring, M'K entered the apartment in which he had left hia prisoner and the lady. The beauty of Ihe gentle Marianne, and the bereavement which she had so lately sustained, produced such an effect upon the heart of ihe youthful captain, that ere he retired to rest, Ihe image of the fair Spaniard had taken posses- sion of his bosom, and, when the bustling world was buried in repose, the thoughts of Marianne deprived him of rest. Neither had'the intrepid gallantry and disinterested conduct of the youthful Scot been disre- garded ; and, even whilst seated by the remains of her to be seated amongst his band, listening to the tales of | other days, which some of the more experienced of the warriors pour passer les temps were wont to relate. But on the present occasion, he was fretful and anxious, a dread impending evil clouded his soul, and ever and anon disquieting his mind. Twenty times bad he gone the round of the posts in the course of the evening, al- though even to himself he could give no satisfactory reason for his feats; but on this occasion, he hastily re- joined his guard, and having directed them to " fall in,' he ordered them to march with the utmost secresy and caution. Leaving this small party to proceed ou their expe- dition, whatever that might be, we return to the town ol San Sebastian. And as the shades of night were gloomily setting over, " The doujon tower, and battl'd keep The rampart and the castle steep, Both battery and town." Our heroine was taking her accustomed walk along the battlements, when a stranger accosted her, saying" that an English officer wished for a moment to speak with her, but his duty prevented him from leaving his post yet as the communication was of Hie utmost importance, he hoped she would avail herself of the present oppor- tunity. The unsuspecting girl agreed to accompiny him; but as they were passing along the narrow gang way at the edge of the harbour, the stranger suddenly threw over her heada thick cloak, which he had hitherto scream was heard from an adjoining apartment, thf J Marianne, endeavouring to divert her mind from dwell- I door in a moment was thrown back on its hingds, and | ing too intently upon the gloomy scenes she had so a fragile form, rushed as well as its strength would | lately witnessed. Having procured her a comfortable permit, to Angelina, and threw herself in her arms. It j temporary home in Ihe house of a respectable family was Bridget, the faithful, the affectionate Bridget, j with whom lie had formed a slight intimacy during his who had risked, and endured so much to serve Ange- J short residence in San Sebastian, and, having com lina, who, at the time, was comparatively a stranger. I - nitted his prisoners to the tender mercies of the'gover. The power of Ihe most able pen must fail in attempt- | lor of the casile, our hero returned to his duty at the ing to do justice to the scene which followed this sud- f "" den and unexpected meeting. Neither Angelina nor Bridget could give utterance to their feelings any otherwise than by convulsive sobs, but they embraced each otlier with the fervent affection of sisters. Rufus. however, did not suffer this to continue long, and seemed to view it with feelings of the utmost impa ience. Taking hold ot the arm of his wife, he tore he rudely away from Angelina, and wilh a frown, said,— " Remember what 1 have told you-, and obey. Al- though unseen, I shall be constantly watching your be- haviour, and will act as it dictates. You have ex- 1 nerienced the consequences of disobedience to my will, I so beware !" Having thus spoke, Rufns quitted the room, and se- j uring the door after him, Angelina and Bridget heard his heavy footfalls, as be traversed the gallery. ( Tot* continued.) MARIANNE, A TALE OP THE BRITISH LEGION IN SPAIN. ( Written expressly for the Penny Sunday Times.) ' Ler. d forward your company, Captain M'K and occupy Ihat large bouse to the left of the ad vance," was an order issued by the fire- eating colonel of the th regiment, or Scotch Grenadiers, amid the hubbub and bustle of a general action in one of the hottest days we had yet experienced. The command wat addressed to a daring young officer, who, as the colonel well knew, would not hesi- late to put it into execution. The ready wave of the sword in salutation, showed ( hat the order was under- stood, and the promptitude with which the following commands were issued, shewed fhat there would be no want of will to carry it into effect:—" No. 6, tention," " shoulder arms;" " by your right, four deep, form ;" " slope arms;" " by your left, quick march I" The service upon which this company was despatched, is one of the mott trying to which a soldier can be called, viz. to expel an enemy from a strong position, of whose numbers and resources he has no knowledge. But little time was given for reflection to the daring handful of Brilons sent to drive a body of the enemy six times their own number from their post, The chateau of the Signor d'A , was situated on the summit of a gentle acclivity, and the rapid mo lions of the mountaineers had carf- ied rapine and wat into a district where its horrors had been hitherto un- known. So rapid indeed, had their motions been, that the signor was ignorant of the near proximity of the hostile armies, until within a short hour of the dire en counter. Naturally ofa timid and procrastinating dis- position, he delayed to fly whilst flight was in hi power, and left himself and bis lovely daughter the un willing spectators of, and the unshielded participatory lines. For a whole week he had no opportunity of seeing Marianne, but, at the conclusion of that period, duty having again called him to town, lie took that oppor- tunity of avowing his affection, and was well pleased to find from the mantling blush and downcast look, thai his love was not unreturned. Subsequent to this, our lovers, ( for so we suppose they must now be styled,) might frequently be seen walking arm- in- arm on the heights of Ayete, as his regiment had now bivouacked much nearer to the town, and that circumstance afforded ihem frequent opportunities of exchanging those mutual endearments which a recollection of our own youthful days bring back to memory as the happiest or* of a stormy life. One day, as they were enjoying their accus'omed 1 the shore. lite- d- tete, the bugles of the legion sounded " to arms." | El Dorno directed them to remain under cover of the " Short space was then to bid good bye, j rocks, whilst he pushed forward to see if the coast wa Or breathe the Word farewell ;" 1 clear, and to get a party from his own regiment, whicl for our hero was required at his ( post, and would no. I he k? T to th « F.-' i' 0? ° ft, he "" l* Vt^ i" . hat his reputation should be sullied for a thousand I » ' T, hei" fr0 ™ ® rft, sh « > » » <">?>'< be worlds. Marianne had scarcely entered the city gates. I .' he look out for " pickmgs or as it was generally began to tumble in towards the shore in lengthening rolls from the ocean; the wind too, was rapidly in- creasing, and dark masses of clouds were now rolling over their headB. Whilst the boatmen were muttering their fears in scarcely audible whispers, EL Dorno be- gan to feel alarmed at the danger which he suspected would altend a prolongation of the voyage. He ques- tioned Ihe boatmen if they considered it prudent to pro- ceed, or if they knew of no sequestered bay within th compass of their own lines, in which it would be pos- ible to effect a landing ? One of them, who well knew the coast, replied '* that their was no bay beyond their advanced posts, but there was one stretching its waters between the outposts, and he doubted not but under the cover of the darkness, they might there get ashore to their friends." The increasing storm and heaving swell settled the matter, and they were directed to pull for the bay, cost what it would. A rocky coast lay tretched along their lee, and it required every exer- tion of the mariners to keep clear of the reef, which stretched far into the sea. They did, however, effecta landing, but not without considerable danger, and a thorough drenching from the surf which dashed along when the roar of the artillery and tbe hurried rattle ol the musketry, announced to the timid maiden that the scene was renewed, from which she has so lately been such a serious sufferer. She was hurrying onward to her temporary home, there to breathe a prayer for tin safety of her lover j but, ere she reached the street where tbe habitation stood, she was accosted by El Oorno, from whom she had formerly been rescued so opportunely by our hero. But, if she then rejected his advances, his attempt to renew the acquaintance was now treated wilh Ihe ulmost scorn- She bade him " hegone 1 for, if he obtruded his company upoo her. she would desire protection from the nearest guard, and would, forthwith, report his insolence to the gover- nor, when his parole would be withdrawn, and he should be consigned to prison." He replied in accents of stifled rage, " That an ex- change of prisoners was already agreed to, and thai ihree more days should restore him at once to his liberty and his command; but the time might come when she would repent the preference which she had shown to the stripling foreigner who had gained the heart of a daughter of Spain. But," he added with a withering scowl, " I shall save the land of my liirth Ihe degradation of having one of her faires'i ( lowers transplanted to a foreign soil, for, if we two meet upon the field of strife, by the soul of my father ' he traitor shall die.'' So saying, tbe haughty Spaniard stalked away, threats of vengeance still hovering on his tongue, and n design fraught with diabolical malice taking possession of his Inmost soul. Marianne retired to her apartment with a palpitating heart, and there she poured forth her whole heart ai called, " oft" on the forage." He had been gone for some lime upon this errand, during which Marianne hac tried in vain to shake the fidelity of her guards wilh gold, and golden promises, when the silence was broken by the hasty challenge " Who goes there?" and the darkness was illumined by the flash of fire- arms. Dorno rushed over the rocks, seized the helpless, and loudly shrieking maiden, and was bearing her away from the now thickening conflict, when a fire- ball from a battery lighted up the scene, and his progress wa- arrested by the iron grasp of M'K , who, in a voice of thunder, required him to release the lady. El Dorno laid his now senseless burden down on a shelving bank of rocks, and hand in hand did the warriors contend. But the contest was of short duration, for a pass from Ihe weapon of the youthful Scot brought his antagonist to the ground, when he lifted his beloved in his arms tnd bore her away to a place of safety. She speedily recovered, and in the morning removed to the town ind a few weeks afterwards, the nuptials were sole n- nized, upon which occasion, gladness and joy presided over the scene, and even the features of Serg. Growl for once relaxed into a smile. It may be accessary to add, by way of explanation, that when M' K moved off towards the shore, and he saw the boat entering the bay, and saspecting it to be- long to a spy, he returned for his party, in order to in- tercept him, when he encountered the party commanded by El Dorno, and the occurrences took place which we have related. W. P. J. | n, the horrors and dangers of the battle- field. A batal- J ihfc altar of Him whose ear is ever open to the cry ot lion ofthe enemy, to the number of nearly a thousand men, took possession of the chateau, and, from that commanding position, kept up a heavy fire upon Ihe British. The helpleis father and unprotected daughte had, meanwhile, retired to the inmost recesses of the mansion, whilst the few servants which the signor re- tained, had sought for shelter in tbe cellars of the chateau. El Dorno, the commander of this balallion, was both a coward and a libertine, for, whilst the inferior officer were placing their men in the most advantageous posi- tions along the front of Ihe building, he was looking out for a far less exposed situaticn in its inner apart- ments. • He had occupied this honourable and safe position for a considerable length of lime, going occa- sionally to the front to see how matters stood, when he was alarmed by a crash, a hissing noise, and a loud ex plosion, which was followed, or rather accompanied with a loud and thrilling shriek. On opening the dooi of the adjoining apartment, El Dorno perceived the gentle Marianne clasping the body of her now sense less parent, who had been deprived of existence by a shell, the explosion of which he had just heard. Even in that ihoment of horror, excited by the loveliness ol that heaving bosom, the libertine principles of the Carlist commander triumphed over his fears, and, in listress, in behalf of one who was at that moment ex- posed to all the horrors of the battle- field. Ere yet. he had arisen from her orisons, an unusual stir in the house announced that an important event had taken place, and, to ascertain the cause, she hurried from het chamber. But, when she entered the vestibule, female timidity, and maiden coyness vanished a? she beheld iier beloved borne into the house in the arms pf his men, pale and bleeding from the effects of two severe wounds which be had received whilst in the act of gal- lantly dashing on to the charge at the head of his de voted little band. Marianne threw herself on hei knees by his side, and pressing his hand lo her bosom, sobbed aloud in the fulness of her heart, " that death should never part with them, for she noiild accompam him even to the grave." A surgeon was speedily in attendance, who relieved her fears by the assurance that the wounds, though severe, were not likely lo be dangerous; but, be recommended quiet and ihe ab- sence of anything likely to produce the least excite ment in the patient. It would be tedious to detail all Ihe transactions of a sick- bed, suffice it to say, that M'K had an un- wearied nurse in Marianne, who, night and day at- tended by his bed- side, and to her exertions it migh probably be owing that he was so soon enabled to wood- nymph, and eyes and hair, whose sunny richness and blue trembling lustre give such brightness to a face scarce past fhe smiling beauty of childhood? Such as sweet Lucy Arden is now, was the gentle Amy Somers, for she was but a beautiful child when Reuben Leslie bore her from us a wedded wife to some far away city, and our ' Leslie of the May' soon became only a re- membrance and a passing thought; when, one evening, a stranger was admitted to my presence, his appearance was that ofthe middling class, just above the hewers of wood and drawers of water of this unhappy world; touched by the agony of his countenance, and the ear- nestness with which he besought me, as a minister and an early friend, to interest myselt in his behalf, I lis- tened to a tale of woe and suffering: it was Reuben Leslie, and the tale he told me amid the dim twilight, and in the broken accents of despair, was indeed a sad romance of real life. Amy and Reuben had lived happily together, but the lily of the village of the Poen- tain faded away in secret, ! n the confined atmosphere aud destructive weariness of a populous city and a lite of the world's care and toils, for even the love of Reuben could not always shield her delicate beauty from labour and wasting griefs, for his was a wayward lot iu this world's pilgrimage, and she loved too fondly not to share with him sunshine and gloom alike Time past iway, and with it the strength— the bloom of Amy, till none could have recognised in her pale shadowy form the smiling beauty ofthe village; but Reubeu loved with the heart's love— and oh ! how much dearer was ' he who was perishing for his sake ! Had the humble artizan possessed the world, he would have given it to recall one smile to Amy's lips, one tint of life to Amy's faded cheek, Medicine was tried in vain, and sorrow was almost sinking into despair, when Amy spoke of a dream, or rather a wandering of her imagination, which led her to believe that could she but reach her native village, its healing waters would restore her to health and happiness; but the home of her childhood was far - far distant; and how could she, worn to such shadowy fragility, bear a long and toilsome journey ? The thought, however, became fixed in her heart— it was her unceasing theme; till, urged by her entreaties, and h alf inspired with the hope by her enthusiastic prophe- sies, Reuben hired a covered vehicle, and set forward on his journey— alas ! how different to the joyous one, when, ten years ago, he brought his girlish love to her new home in that proud city they were now leaving in sadness. Three weary days past on, and many were the sufferings of the uncomplaining Amy;— when, on the evening of the fourth, she recognised the spire of her native village church. ' ' Tis there, ' tis there, Reuben, and I shall live to reach it!' But her lips were cold ere the echoes of her words had passed away — the silver cord was loosened, and Amy Leslie lay dead iu her husband's arms ! Half frantic he bore her to the nearest cottage, and consigning her to the care of its amazed inhabitants, rushed, almost unknowing what he did, into the villase, reached the house of his Amy's nearest relative, and there told his story of despair. They accompanied him back, when ( if pos- sible) to wound his feelings deeper, he was denied a last look of her he would have died to save. Tbe cot- tagers murmured words of fearful import, and all shrank from Reuben as if he indeed were criminal. In this ' last distress he sought me, and poured forth at the altar of religion his anguish and his tears. 1 past the night with him beside the bier of Amv, and saw his fame cleared to the satisfaction of all. It was the anniversary of that day, on which ten years ago 1 consecrated her early and innocent love, that I placed the withered lily in her ancestral grave, and ere many months had elapsed, Reuben Leslie, grown old in youth, was united by death to his first and only love.— I always thought," continued the good pastor," that there was something pathetic in their story, and a nephew of mine, who was with me then, must have thought so too ; he was fresh from college, his head and heart filled with poetry and '• romauce, and among bis papers I found some lines which, though they transport the actors in this sad drama back to the olden time of chivalry and supersti- tion, seem evidently suggested by the leading incident of the story I have related; and you will pardon an old man's love for his fair sister's child, it it induces him to think them worthy of your perusal.— They are entitled THE PILGRIMS AT OUR LADY's WELL. A moment more, my love! my love! and we reach the hallow'd spring, Oh ! can 1 look upon thy eyes nor wish to life to cling ? Thy love to me is Paradise. I know no bliss beyond The transport that thou art my own! oh, couldst thou read the fond, The deep idolatry that sways my spirit's hidden shrine— Uas, from life I cannot part— I would be ever thine ! I know what thou wouldst say,' A brighter world than this— \ sweet reunion for age in holy love and bliss.' But oh, the darkness of the grave ! the thought of woe and dread That thine arms that clasp me now would shrink and leave me with the dead. Would leave me— oh, I dare not think— we must not— cannot part— Oh, let me live '.— say, wilt thou not, beloved as thou art ?— On, onwards to the virgin's well— our lady's blessed spring, Its waters will revive my heart that now is withering. Oh, fearful has the strife of pain and wasting langour been, And the despair that crush'd my soul more fatal tho' unseen! When wearied with thy task of love, thv watching and thy sighs, The passing down of slumber's w ing has rested on thine eyes; Then— then ray soul has dared to pour in words its an- guish forth, , \ nd prayed in agony for life /— to me a treasure worth More than the empire of the world, than— shall I dara to say ? — The heaven I have no wish lo share, wertthou, wert thou away ! AMY LESLIE. A TALE OF THE INN. I had been for a few days an inhabitant ofa retired hamlet, whose medicinal spring had not acquired noto- riety enough to disturb the tranquillity or the simplicity of its inhabitants, by making it a fashionable resort; but which was celebrated enough to call many a lowly humble domici 1 e^ for^ the time d& d bj I ' » delirium of despair there came a blissful dream the title of tbe ' Fountain Inn ;' a sfinple dwelling witl. An a, ffpe' ™ lce tllat bade me seek our lad/ s hallow d ^ The^ raTard^' LCt % verv heart is weak, my love 1 but onwards- Julian 32S! 1 * at — hiP "> e tailing light is of the carnation and ranunculus, and a cluster oi various coloured piuks; the delicate freshness and fairy- like pencilling of whose flowers were the delight aud pride of a little blue- eyed nymph, the Hebe of the inn, so that, at almost all season:.' for flowers, it was redolent with perfume and beauty ; and even in winter, its mossy lial- stone— its fence of evergreens bright with the crim- son berries and variegated leaves of the glossy holly, and its antique yews quaintly cut into some device, im- possible to be discovered by unitiated eyes ( a relic of the caste of tlieoldeh time) gave a charm tothe little garden if the Fountain Inn. But, at the time 1 speak of, il was glorious in its first summer richness of colours aud odours; the libtirnum and the lilac hung their drooping clusters of amethyst aud golden flowers over door and lattice, and the tapestry of the climbing roses on its walls looked, with its blushes and dewdrop, like the ery Paradise of Butterflies !— Not far from this my '• -- - r-—• --— -- I I --. » •'•'•• " r r~ V" """" » " « » •>=" iu re- t ,. ery raradise oi ttutternies :— i\ ot tar irom mis Stead of offering consolation to the bereaved fair one, I sume his duties. When his health was so far restored I dwelling in Arcadia, the village church lifted its lime lie dared to insult her by an attempt at which modesty I as to enable him to rejoin hit regiment, he carried with I fretted walls amid the quiet silence of its gathered e> _!_ u. u l - II.. I.- J him the tenderest remembrances of his beloved ; for a | tombs, grey with antiquity, and hallowed by the voice of simple yet true religion^ and the prayers of the con- trite during the flight of some hundred years. I had recoils. Force might, perhaps, have accomplished where persuasion failed, as the monster had seized I mutual understanding was come lo Ihat their nuptial. Marianne in bis arms, when the British " hurrah" | were to be celebrated in six months afterwards, when rung through the mansion. Paralyzed by the sound he released ihe struggling a screaming victim, as the vulture sometimes drops his prey from the effects of a sudden surprise ; when the intrepid Captain M'K . guided by the sound, and accompanied by a party of his men, abruptly entered the apartment. Marianne rushed to him for protection, crying, " Save me ! Save me I"—" Wilh my life 1 will! he promptly replied, and, turning to the Spaniard, he commanded him lo yield. The other, wisely considering il to be his most prudent course to comply, tendered his sword i and, he and the lady were consigned to the charge of a lance- corporal and file of men, whilst the captain hurried Rway wilh the rett of those who had accom- panied him to the more remote parts of the building, where Ihe shout of battle announced the enemy to be still unsubduefl. But so sudden and unexpected had been the attack of the British, and so wholly were the mountaineers taken by surprise, ( as screened from view by a shady path, M'K had been enabled to conduct his party to within twenty yards of the chateau unperceived,) t those of the enemy who were so situated as to be : i to do so, fled at the first onset; and, the re- ihe term of his engagement with the army should be completed ; that Marianne's property in Spain would be disposed of, and tbey should return to Scotland, the land of her adoption. The scene changes to the front of the lines. The day has been lowering and threatening a storm. Nighi has closed in black and gloomy, while the breeze has waxed to a gale, and the gale is rapidly increasing lo a tempest. A small party of soldiers may be seen seated around a watfh- fire in a lonely glen by the sea- side. This formed the advanced guard, or as it is technical!* termed, the " outlying plcquet" of the British Legion. An old soldier, whose war- worn features were seamed with many a scar, was busily employed in cooking his evening meal, from which he was summoned by his cap- tain to take a couple of files and go the round of the senlriet. Serjeant Growl, with many a grumble, mut- tered a most reluctant acquiescence, aud departed un- willingly to discharge an unpleasant duty. Captain M'K , for it was no other, wrapped his cloak closely around him, and disappeared in the gloom toward the sea- side. Many conjectures were formed among the men, what the meaning of the cap- tain's conduct could be, for on similar occasions he used looked long on its patriarchal tombs and their inscrip- tions, transcripts of feelings touching in their simplicity, and consecrated by their mournful yet ' rusting tender- ness and faith ; and I had just read aloud the names of Amy and Reuben Leslie, with the triumphant " RESUR- GAM" chiselled with rude skill on a more recently placed stone, when, raising my eyes, I beheld a gentleman uear, whom I knew at the first glance to be the pastor ofthe village; he had one of those mild saint- like faces which we meet with so often in the pictures of theold masters; a high pale forehead, shadowed by thought; a finely formed head, silvered more by sorrow than by years; eyes of that eloquent and indefinate colour which combine the eagle glance ofthe black with the touching expression of the blue, ( were not such the eyes of Shakspere ?)— and so much of unassuming dig- nity about him, that the first look convinced you he was one to be venerated and loved, both for his sacred character and the goodness of his own heart. He spok e in that low, rich tone, which is so fascinating, and 1 soon found myself at home in the little parlour of the Fountain Inn, looking at the sunset through the lilacs, and listening to the kind pastor as he related to me the story of Ainy and Reuben Leslie. " Do you see that pretty fair girl so busy with her J flowers and bees in the garden, with a shape like a gone; There is a shadow o'er them now— a shuddering iu my soul! Hut now— so near— I must not sink beneath its chill control— The sun— the sun has not yet set— ah, look ! its glories shine, Where, like a beacon star, the cross marks out the shrine! If I have wronged or wearied thee, with this embrace forgive— V moment more the spring is gain'd, and I— yes I shall live.' SHALL LIVE!' say, were not these the words the echoes gave again ? Sweet as a clarion's triumph note from the consecrated fane! Her heart is in that long embrace, love's fond enthu- siast— How ! Why shrinks he from the lips that press their transport on his brow ? Why snatch away the long fair curls that veil his lady's charms, To meet her eyes fond rapture ? no— a corse is in hti arms. \ nd night came down— Oh, fail not thou fair child thy bead? to tell, For the pilgrim souls that past away beside our lady's well! A man was sitting in his study reading, when one of his neighbours came rmiiiing to tell him that the back part of lis house must be on fire, as it smoked excessively— ' Oh!" answered,' he mail, " be so good as to tell ray vife, or 1 do not coucern myself at all with the house- keeping." VALUABLE RECIPE.— Old Deacon H. ( who was » o, ne- iliiug of a wag iu his day) used to say that his wife had t certain remedv for testing the quality of Indigo. It was o till a milk pan with pure water, and to sift some indigo HI the surface; if the indigo was good it would either ink orsw m, she couldn't tell which. No WAST OF MINISTERS SOMEWHF. RF,.— An honest man of Perth, being met on Sundav morning going from tbe church, by his minister, was exhorted by, " O, John, do not go fra' the ki k, there will be no preaching in hell." •' Indeed," says John, " it'l nae be for want o' ministers, than!" THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE, ^ Fragments for tlje ( Curious. THE POLISH SONG. Oh ! what is that cry that ascends up to heaven, That ery through the bright starry concave that rolls, And o'er tbe blue waves of the ocean is driven ? ' Tis the cry of the wronged and suffering Poles, Is there no one to save in the hour of oppression, The standard of freedom, the hope of the brave? Or bind up a scourge for Hie tyrant aggression, When the deep wrongs of Poland are known on the wave ? Oh ! where is Britannia? alas! she is sleeping, And her helm and her triden: are lost in the Hood ; Oh ! could she awake she would list to their weeping, And be as of yore, the avenger of blood. Yet though the brave Pole in shackles lies mourning, Though sunk in abasement his cause shall not die; No '.— the watch ( ires of Poland shall still be kept burning, High heaven hath heard aud shall answer her cry. Her eagles shall flutter from river to river. And clap their plumed wings o'er the far distant shore; Until nations shall rise and Poland deliver, Till her brave sons shall weep o'er their country no more. Nottingham. JOSE OF. TREFOIL. A GOOD STORY Pray delight in the. following story, Caroline Vernon, fille de honneur, lost t'other night two hundred pounds at faro, and bade Martiudale mark it up. He said he would rather have a draft on her banker. " Oh! willingly;" and she gave him one Next morning he hurried to Drummond's, lest all her money should be drawn out. " Sir," said the cleric, " would you receive the contents immediately ?" " As- suredly." " Why, Sir, have you read the note ?" Mar- tindale took it— it was, " Pay to the bearer two hundred blows, well applied." The nympli tells the story her- self; and yet 1 think the clerk had the more humour of the two .— Horace Walpole's Letters. FUTURITY. When through the mist of future years We fancy we discern some ray Of brightness hov'ring o'er our fears, And gilding all— we turn away With joyful henrts, although we know That ne'er to mortal art ' twa3 given, To trace the secrets of Time's flow, Or pierce the cloud's surrounding Heaven. But when in sorrow's hour we see Through fancy's shade a life of gloom, T-; Troubled as is the stormy sea, Dark as the darkness of the tomb, With sadden'd hearts we only mourn, That life, that scene of varied hue, By sin and misery should be torn, Its woes so many— joys so few. W. H. A CHANGE.— The Mogul empire contained near a million of square miles and 70 millions of inhabitants in the year 1707. The revenues were then above 32 mil- lions a year. It is now reduced to about the size of the eountyof Surrey, with about as much revenue in one year as it received in twelve hours ouly little more than a century ago. If ever you want to read a man, do the simple, and he thinks he has a soft horn to deal with ; and while he s'poses he is playin' you off, you are puttin' the leake into him without his seein' it. Now, if you put on the knowin', it puts him on bis guard directly, and he fights as shy as a coori. Talkin' cute looks knavish, but talkin' soft looks sappy. Nothing will make a feller bark up a wrong tree like that.— American Philosopher. TO THE FAR, FAR WEST. 1 went to our grotto to gaze on the sun, As all glowing he sunk to his rest; You bade me, go there— there think ofthe one Who had gone to the far, far west. 1 gazed till the last tints of brightness had flown, And watched his departure with sorrow ; 1 watched his departure, hut wept o'er tliiue own, Thou canst not return on the morrow. I stood by the waters, as they in proud swell Lash'd with frolicsome fury the shore ; ( Ah ! did I distinguish thy deep- ton'd farewell Mingle deeper, more sad with their roar ?) You bade me stand by theui, and listen to hear You whisper my name to each wave: And ( fancy lends facts) soft, tender, and clear, It floated o'er each ocean cave. The moon rose resplendant with silvery light, As she rode through the heavens so blue; My eyes rested on her with thoughts of delight, For I knew that you gazed on her too. ' Twas our token ! 1 felt it was honoured of each, ( That our sight should in one focus meet; Thus forming a line of attraction, by which Our spirits should each other greet.) I knelt, by my couch, at the midnight hour, For thy safety, thy health to pray; But language had lost all her wordy power— Pent feelings would have their way. And the sob burst forth that had been repress'd, (' Twas an hour of sacred emotion !) And close to my heart was the miniature press'd Of" The one" ranging far o'er the ocean ! ANNA, MINSTREL OF THE HF. ATH. A fellow " down east," says his cousin Sukey is so modest that he cannot remove the table- cloth " before - ompany without blushing, because the table has got Itgi. •. ne following notice Cong- lane, Smithfield :—" This house is removed lower down till the repairs are completed." Authors in France seldom speak ill of each other, un- less they have a personal pique. Authors in England seldom speak well of each other, unless they have a personal friendship.— Pope. The thick lip, first introduced into the house of Hapsborgh, by intermarriage with the Jagellons, has been hereditary in the reigning family of Austria fur centuries. ODE TO THE HARP. BY R. T. GRANNF. LL., How sweet is thy thrill, my own island harp, How soft is thy true native swell; Thy bright golden strings will r. oothe the sad heart, When weeping, thy numbers we tell. A deeply- drawn sigh thou'lt cause from the breast, Where affection for Fola* does dwell; A sigh for her wrongs, her children oppress'd, Wlien weeping, thy numbers we tell. Then sleep, thou sweet harp, till again thee we call With the breast of the patriot to s\ yeli ; To Liberty's field, and the foe yield and fall, Then gladly thy numbers we'll tell. A HIGHLAND FOWL.— A foreigner, travelling in the Highlands, ordered a fowl for diuner, but showing great dislike to it when it was placed on the table, the landlord brought a piece of fine salmon, and said, " Sir, I per- ceive you do not like the fowl; pray what do you think cJ this ?" " Think," says the guest; " why," I think it is a very fine salmon ; and no wonder, for it is of God Almighty's feeding; but if it had been fed by you, " supposV't vpiild have been as lean as this poor fowl which 1 denire . yon will take away." THE FOUNDLING. Away from « ?" ! sl< 7>, No happy Q. cam breaks thy sad reign ; ' Tis mine to wa^ 0"^?* 11' 1"?' P. Til) sunrise cheev.' tl, e vlll,& e trai"- Springing to light, wifl. ^ TtS'ye • I he young bird minstrtv8 l" e ' With food its mother skims K 1 sob to see maternal love. Ah ! why no mother's love for me ? Why like that nurstling am not f, Bending the slight twig of the tret. As, watched, it balances on high ? But I am desolate, alone- Ne'er cradled was my i, nfant head ; Its first bed was a hard cold stone, Where sleep the happier village dead. Again 1 sit me on the stone, Since thirteen springs where 1 drew breath ; Come, mother, haste to claim thy own, I wait for thee, for thee or death ! AMELIA HENDERSON. CUEATM. " Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice." SHAKSPF. RB. There has been very little change » t the different theatres since our last; the pantomimes increase iu at- traction, and business may he said to be " looking up" at most of the houses. At this season of the year there is seldom anything particular to notice at any of the places of amusement with the exception of the panto- mimes, and as we gave a lengthy critique upon them last week, we shall content ourselves in the present number with merely giving a brief summary of the per- formances at each establishment. At Covent Garden, The Midsummer Night's Dream, The Merry Wives of Windsor, The Spanish Curate, and the pantomime, have been the staple tare ; the house has bten full every night. A new two- act comedy, from the pen of Mr. Douglas Jerrold, is in rehearsal, and will be produced forthwith. It will embrace the whole strength ofthe company, in- cluding Madame Vestris. The new comedy of Money, still continues to draw money to the treasury of the Haymarket Theatre, and Mark Lemon's excellent petite comedy, called Tke Ladies' Club, has been playing here with all its original success. The uord Chamberlain has increased the season two months. The performances at the Adelphi have been The Tower of London, the burlesque of The Beggar's Opera, and the pantomime, the whole of which continue to go off with immense eclat. At the Queen's, an interesting domestic drama, called The Farmer's Bride, has met with considerable suc- cess, which, together with other entertainments, and the pantomime, with the magnificent diorama, painted by Mr. C. J. James, have drawn crowded houses. At Sadler's Well's, . Mark Lemon's deeply interesting drama of Gwynneth Vaughan has been most raptur- ously applauded. Mrs, Honner's personation of the heroine was marked by all that excellence for w hich she is so celebrated. Harlequin and Poor Richard is a capital pantomime, which will bear seeing two or three times. At the City, The Tower of I^ ondnn ; a ballet, a farce, and tbe Christmas Pantomime have been the enter- tainments. At the Surrey, Martha Willis, and Moncriett's suc- cessful pantomime, have continued their career. At the Victoria they have been playing the legitimate, and we cannot help speaking in the highest terms of Mr. Hicks' Hamlet, and the Juliet of Miss Montague. Har- lequin Jack, of Neivberry, is second to none in point of merit, as is testified by the laughter and plaudits of de- lighted audiences. T he Royal Albert Saloon has been crammed to suffo- cation every evening a circumstance which cannot be wondered at, when it is remembered that they have the best singers, comic and sentimental, in London; the best dancers, the best posturers, the best clown, a very good pantomime, and that it is altogether the cheap- est place of amusement in the metropolis. A LEGEND OF OLD SAINT PAUL'S. BY M. H. AIIFSFORTH, ( Continued from our last.) CHAPTER IV. SWEARING IN A NEW MEMBER. The place in which Eustace St. Clare now found him- self was a long dingy- looking apartment, the walls of which were blackened with smoke, and indeed the whole appearance of the room was such as to inspire a feeling of disgust and abhorrence. He had, however, no great time allowed him to make any particular ob- servation, for the company was soon seated at a table, with Don Stephauo at the head, having the two recently arrived visitors placed on either side of him, as a mark of distinguished honour. Their flagons of ale having been put upon the table until it seemed fairly to groan under the weight, Don Stephano waved his hand autho- ritatively, andhaving produced silence by this means, he thus delivered himself in an elegant oration:— ' Friends, pals, and subjects, we have met once more to introduce among ourselves another member to our most illustrious and honourable society. If you wish to know who he is, behold him on my right hand, a comely youth enough, aud one thut I dare say will make hitn- self a valuable member. Twig him, boys; observe what a gay gallant we've got among us, and then say whether the noble society of Alsatians has not been in- creasing in respectability even as it has done in num bers. But I will say no more ou the subject, since the subject will speak for himself, and that too, 1 dare say, right eloquently.' ' Ask the young fellow what he has come here for, exclaimed a sharp, shrill voice from the lower end of the table. ' You hear the question, young fellow,' said Don Stephano, addressiug himself to Eustace St. Clare; ' they want to know what you have done deserving the shelter and protection you claim from us.' ' Committed a murder I have every reason to fear, answered the young man. ' A murder, eh !' exclaimed Don Stepbano, in a toue of pride; ' come, this iook=, well, and 1 should think there can no longer be the least objection to your being admitted a member of our community.' ' But this, after all, is no murder,' interposed Deyn- One of the ancient names of Ireland. i THE MIDNIGHT HAC. About a hundred and fifty years a^ o, when Hounslow Heath was in its pristine glory, and London streets sent forth as many thieves as respectable individuals, there existed a public- house in Drury- lane, for the reception of such gentry as gained their livelihood on the road. This place was also the resort of a daring fellow named Mark Redland, a noted footpad, who was the captain of a band of the same fraternity. ' Twas at this place bur- glaries were planned, and the proceeds of their plunder divided amongst them— the captain, as a matter of course, receiving the greater part. The landlord of the " Blue Lion," ( the sign of the house,) had also been a gentleman thief, but was fortunate enough to escape the hands of justice. Knowing when he was " well off," as the saying is, he, took good care to keep himself secure from their blood- hounds; he, therefore, entered into business through his ill- gotten gains as a publican, and established a rendezvous for the reception of a secret horde. At the time to which we allude, the gang had assem bled in the room appointed for them, ( set apart on all occasions for their convenience,) to plan a burglary that was going to be committed at a house not far dis- tant from Finchley Common. While they were intent upon their proceedings, they noticed not the intrusion of an unwelcome visitor, who sat crouched up in a dark corner of the room, and could scarcely be seen but by a keen observer. At length Mark, casting his eyes round the room, ( with every corner of which he was well ac- quainted,) his eagle eyes fell upon this unexpected guest. He suddenly started upon his feet, and was on the point of putting an end to her existence, when the hag ( for such she was,) raised herself up, and with * contemptuous smile upon her countenance, said : — " Put up thy pistols, lad, and do not bring more blood upon your bead by being my murderer." " Fiend!" exclaimed Redland, his eyes flashing fire as be spoke, " what have yon heard this night, speak, tell me, have you heard our plans?" " I have heard all, but that need be no obstacle to its fulfilment— you can depend upon me. It shall be kept secret." Mark would have forcibly ejected her from the room, but as he well knew the power she possessed with regard to predictions, he withheld his intention. The hag's name and abode were mysteries which nobody could solve, and she was reported to have conference with the evil spirit, from her predictions having frequently come to pass. The robbers ( five in number,) now made a stir, and were about to proceed on their unlawful errand, when the hag caught the captain by the arm, and whispered in his ear :— " Remember, Mark Redland, we meet again. Before six days are o'er your head, Mark Redland's numbered with the dead. Remember my prediction, ' twill come true. Proceed on your journey, but dread the consequences." He could have dashed her brains out on the instant, but he repelled his growing rage with the intention of fulfilling his promise at some future period. Still her demoniac words rung in his ears— he could not shake off the melancholy it had occasioned— but by a repeti- tion of a dose of brandy, that maddening liquor which had made him what he was— a midnight robber. After he had quaffed the liquor to his satisfaction, they proceeded towards the Strand, where they had a vehicle ready to convey them to their destination. Still be had a misgiving that the plot would not work well; but, however, he was resolved to persevere in it now that he had gone so far, at all hazards, even at the risk of the witch's fatal words, for the brandy had made him desperate beyond conception. At length they ar- rived at the place appointed for the committal of the robbery, which was a nobleman's mansion, and after they had secured the horse in a suitable situation, they made a survey of the place, the way by which they were to effect an entrance, the arrangement of their weapons of defence, & c. While they were thus employed, they were startled at what appeared to them a moving black mass, but the phantom ( for such they thought it was,) suddenly disappeared among some outbuildings. Mark at length effected an entrance by a small window of an outhouse, and was speedily followed by bis asso dates, who were all well provided with dark lanterns jemmies,' pistols, & c.. They had not proceeded far before they were alarmed by the barking ofa dog, who seemed as if struggling with somebody. One of the robbers had, in fact, gone his own way to work, and was proceeding another way, when he accidentally fell in with the dog, who seized him by the leg, and held him fast. It was this struggle that; attracted their attention. The ruffian, finding himself thus caught, began to dash at, the dog with a stick ; but this having- no effect, to save bis own life, he had recourse to a pistol; and taking one from his belt, he blew the animal's brains out. This roused the inmates of the mansion, who were hastening to the spot, and on the stairs the master of the house encountered the robbers. Finding thei | s-'< eme thus defeated, they immediately took flight, " nd a 17 ss'e away, with the exception of Mark, who • ,°| asl leave the place. He nad iust gained his was the .' , the window where he had entered, feet by droppi„ h r0"- "* « - « servants' pistols levelled when a bullet from oi. ° 01 u-" '— nned, an exulting him to the ground. As soon a. he . ' M « elarin, laugh rung in his ears, and turning ." ounci ,,.„ eyes, the beams ofthe moon revealed to him fhe" demy ntac features ofthe Midnight Hag. Westminster. ^ .. Afl20.- ve, a>' s of age the will reigns; at 30, the wit; at 40, the judgment. ' court and t; ' the youngster has fought a due! with his rival, has wounded his man, but it is by no means certain yet that he will die.' ' Why, lhat looks like applying for admittance- here under false pretences !' exclaimed the shrill voice from the other end of the table.' ' Hold your tongue, will you!' vociferated Don Stephano with authority; ' don't you see that the strip- ling has been introduced by one that we can depend on, and oughtn't that to be quite enough for getting him a good reception'among us ?' ' But suppose he's too mueh of a! gentleman to bring himself dow n to our level ?' ' Nonsense! he can't help himself,' replied Don- Stephano ; ' lie must conform to all our rules and regu-" lations, or else, gentleman or no gentleman, he'lfbe taken off to the pump, and served as the poor misera ble devil was just, now.' Then, addressing himself to CHARADES. I. 1 am a word ol'eleveu letters.— My 10, 11, 6— is oc- cupation ; my S, 8, 11, 2— is elevation ; my 6, 2, 11, 6, 3, 7, 5- is limitation; my I, 3, 8, 9, 8— is osten- tation; iny 11,8, 6— is an appellation; my 3,8,1,8, 3, 2— is veneration t and my 4,8, 2— is an exclamation. My whole is very bol. Maidstone. J. CCLLCM, JUV. II. I am a word of eighteen letters.— Mv 17, 10. 16, 1, 13,3, and 11,8, 13, 7, I, and 3, 6, 15, and 9, 6, 15, 8- are vegetables, my 9, 4, 8, 12, 18, 17, and 2, 14, 16, 7, 12— are part of a female's dress ( my 16,2,9,9, 13, 17, and 5, 13, 7, IS, and 16,8, 17— are quadrupeds ; my 14, - 7, 16, 17, 6, 16— is an article of great consumption ; my 18, 5, 9, 2— Is a noted island ; my 3, 7, 14, 18— is at the head of the Church of Rome; my 3, 13, 15, 17, 7— is the name of a Grecian philosopher; my 3,18, 12 — is used by commercial men; my 2, 5,9, 6, 16,7— is au exalted prince; my 17, 18, 2— is a refreshing be- verage ; my 3, 13, 15, 8,11— is a musical instrument; my 3,11, 17, 2, 17, 4, 6— is an esculent root; and my whole was a distinguished person in the Battle of Waterloo. J. T. Gt. Guildford- street. III. I am a word of twelve letters My 3, 10, 9, 8— is an Heathen goddess; my 4, 11,8, 9, 2— is one of the muses; my 9, 10, 11,9, 7, 4— is an animal; my 7, 10, 6, 8, 5, was a 11,2,3, 8, 5, epic poet; my 7, 10, 9, 12 — is a musical instrument; my 12, 9, 5,8— is a moun- tain ; my 2, 9, 11, 8, 6, 9, 2— is a city of Naples; my 6^ 2, 9, 9, 2, 5— is a foreign plant; and my whole is a vocabulary. C. W. WHITE. IV. I am a word composed of eight letters— My first is the initial of a person who values other people's goods more than his own ; my second, of a well- known mineral; my third, of a compounded distilled spirit; ti) y fourlb, of a planet; my fifth, of a county ( own; nk'y sixth, ofa colour; my seventh, of a celebrated aKcient British poef ; my eighth, of an old title of honour ; and the whole form3 the came of a convey- ance for water, Bisskfriar's Road. X, Y. Z. V. I am a word of letters fits, To find me out, kind reader strive; My 1, 3, 4, 5 you will find Does mention a particular kind. A Sottish county town of fame, My 4, 3, 1, and 1, will name; Every one that's now alive. When in Iheir grave will 4, 3, S, My magic 1, 5, 4, 3,52, Reader, perhaps, Is used by you : My 1,3, 5, to man's a bore, And always 198, 3, 3, 4. My tout by some is keenly sought, And very often dearly bought. Newcastle Upon Tyne. R. M. COMMODORE NAPIER. LIFE and EXPLOITS of COMMO- DORE NAPIER, Is., post- free, W. 4d., Five Pi a tea, with Portrait, Ac., Second Edition, contains his Daring in the American War, his Action in an 18 Gun Brig against three French 74 Gun Ships, Bravery in the West Indies, S- izores ou the Italian Coast, Memorable Battle and Capture » f the Portuguese Fleet, Crowning Victories in the War in Egypt, Bom- bardment of Beyrout, Brilliant Defeat of Ibrahim on Ihe Heights of Ornscbojouen, Storming of Sidon, the Siege of Acre, and Triumph al Alexandria. Is., post free, Is. 4., Five Plates, with Portrait. Second Edition. London : Strange, Paternoster row t Purkess, Comp- ton street, Solio. Now Publishing, an entirely New and Original Work, entitled— WAT TYLER, by Pierce Egan th ® V V Younger, Author of Robin Hood, & c. & c. This Work is neatly printed in Demy 8vo, on beau- tiful paper, embellished with superior Wood Engrav - ings, and is published in Weekly Numbers, price Two pence, and in Parts, One Shilling. With the First Number is given an Etching on Sleet, byPiERCE EG AN the Younger. Also, HPHE Life and Extraordinary Adventures 1 of VIDOCQ, the French Jonathan Wild, written by him? elf. Comprising the most Interesting and Ro » manlic Adventures, Extraordinary Escapes, and Re- markable Incidents in the Life of this celebrated Thief- laker. This Work is neatly printed in Demy 8vo, cad pub. lished in Weekly Numbers, with an Engraving oo Wood, price One Penny, and in Paris, with a Steel Etching and Wrapper, price Sixpence. London:— Published by F. Hestnll; 11, Catherine, street. Strand. Eustace, he said :—' By this time, I dare say, vou prettv well understand us ; we are roughish blades iii our way", and have queer customs, but if the thing suits you, we'll admit you to the benefits of our honourable so- ciety.' ' It was for that purpose I came aniongyou," answered tiie young- man. ' You are afraid of the oilicers of justice then ?' ' I t hink I have reason to believe so,' replied Eustace ; '; at any rate, the friends of the person I have wounded will not fail to seize the opportunity I have afforded them, and they w ill seek by every means in their power to procure my destruction.' ' They had'better follow you here then,' observed Don stephano, ' and if they do feel inclined to be so rash, I Can promise them a reception that they will not forget to the latest hour of their lives.' You would not slay them ?' No, we never commit murder here for fear of getting i urselves into a scrape; but we would introduce them o the pump, and afterwards make them run the gaunt- ? t, as the poor wretch did just- now.' ' But are you not afraid of bringing upon yourselves 1 he venge « « ee-< » f the law ?' asked, Eustace. ' Why, we have not much reason to be afraid,' answered I fephano,' seeing that we've always been strong enough to rout the constables and other officers that have been sent against us. It is not above a month ago since we broke the pates of about a score of them, anil from that time we have never been troubled with the visits of that kind of gentry. So that yon see you may live here in safety, and bid defiance to all your enemies, however numerous they may be.' ' But,' answered Eustace St. Clare, ' though I am glad to seek a temporary refuge among you, I do not, by any means, desire to prolong my visit beyond the time that may be occupied in arranging my affairs.' ' Aye, aye, I see,' retorted Don Stephano ; * vou are in love, aud will pine and sigh away your days " till you can see your lair one again. • I know not that I shall ever see her again,' sighed Eustace, with an air of dejection. ' Oh, oh, you have quarrelled then, and that accounts for the duel you have been engaged in ?' ' The fact is,' interposed Deyncourt, ' the youngster believes that he has been foully deceived; at'any rate, there is a rival in the case, and it appears probable enough that the fair Edith is not quite so constant as she once swore to be.' ^ ' Nay, you do her most foul wrong,' exclaimed Eustace, warmly; ' I have been mistaken; perhaps jealousy has urged me too far, and I am to blame for having given credit to idle tales that have no founda- tion.' ' Weil, well, it matters not to us you know,' inter- posed Don Stephano; ' you, it seems, want the protec- tion that we have the power to grant, and it therefore only remains to say whether you are ready and willin: to take the oath.' ' I am.' • Then grasp one end' of this baton whilst I hold tbe other. There, that will do excellently well, so now re peat after me the words as I say them.' Eustace could not forbear smiling at the folly of the ceremony he was going to submit to, but finding that he could not. getoff the mummery, he reconciled himself to it with the best grace he could, and with a tolerably serious countenance, repeated after Don Stepbano the following words.:— ' I, Eustace St. Clare, being in great fear and peril of my life, do voluntarily enter . the honourable society of Alsatians, promising to obeyTdl their laws, to support the dignity of my companions,^ and the respectability of the society; to pay all demands, and serve all offices wheuever 1 may be required; to conduct myself quietly and peaceably towards all Alsatians, whatever may be their degree, and to own no allegiance but to Don'Ste- phauo, the sovereign prince of, Alsatia, his heirs or successors, so help me—' -- : ' Bob !' sboutec} the whole assemblage in full chorus, and thus ended the ceremony of swearing in the. new member of their society. This done, Stephano, giving the young man a blow with his open palm across the shoulders that threatened to disturb his equilibrium, seized him by the hand, and congratulated him upon the high and distinguished honour that had fallen upon him. ' From this moment, my lad of mettle,' he exclaimed, ' you and I will be sworn friends. I like the looks of you, and since you've become one of us, why 1 shall call for half a gallon of ale for each man, and, ' fore Georse! we'll pass a jolly night of it.' This order was speedily given, and as promptly obeyed by the host, who, having placed a huge flagon before each of his customers, naturally cnong- h pre- sented himself to Don Stephano, and, " with a cringe, demanded payment, for the ale he had just supplied. This would inevitably have produced a fluarrel between the host and the Sovereign, Prince of Alsatia, but at that moment tbe usual cry of ' an arrest' was heard from the scouts, aud immediately every man was upon his legs, and away they rushed to give battle to the in- truders ; fortunately, however, the latter beat a hasty retreat when they found the preparations that had been made to receive them, and quiet being thus restored, the Alsatians returned to finish the evening in revelry. ( 7' o be continued.) " tills °> being able to sing alto tenor, or ^ on his heel and said, " Yes, 1 -"• » low, and very mid- A person bo,.. bass, Tom Cook turrit., " know you can sing very high, RIDDLES. BY S, ROBINS, SHEERNFS5 I. Perhaps the lien has had Ihe first,- My second's at the toilet; My whole, the human race acciirs'd, In dumpling yon may boil it. IT. My first is much by children sought, My second, every vessel oughi To have at sea ; my whole, ( how droll !) Applies to each forgiving soul, lit. " sVhi'e mortals have my first, they're never sail, My second, ( when too deep,) drives many mad ; My whole, from fowls domestic, man procures, And is anatomized by epicures. IV. My first is welcome to a thirsty soul. But shunned by those refusing alcohol; Without my next, the horse's gallop stops ; My whole was once a substitute for hops. V. f with a female's name begin, To love my second, Is a sin ; And then, aks! ( to make ins wroth,) My whole is often slew'd in broth. VI. My first Is seldom found before, My second is at Greenwich, ( Perhaps on any oilier shore,) And excellent with spinach. My whole's an interesting game, To youth, or age, to maid or dame. ANSWER TO THE SECOND RIDDLE IN NO. 37, In marshy ground the daffo- dif is seen ; Cey- Ion's the Indian island you must mean. Clipt as you wish, and join d, these give a name, High in enigma, and poetic fame— A gifted native of his fatherland, Who names and offers DILLON friendship's hand. Wellington, Salop. I. GRANT, ENIGMA. Find out two- fifths of a reptile, two- thirds of a mea- sure, two- fifths of a passage, and two- sevenths of a priest, and you will form the name ofa royal and noble personage. Blackfrlar's Road. X. Y. Z, ANSWERS TO THE ENIGMAS TN NO. 39. NOTED INDIVIDUALS 1.— Napoleon.— Nap( les)- o- leo. n. 2.— Nelson,— Ne( ck)- l- son. CITIES IN ENGLAND. 3.— Birmingham.— Birm( an)-( k) ing- ham, 4 — Romsgate.—( A) gate. 5.— Margate.— Mar( ket) gate, 6 Bow. CHRISTIAN NAME, 7.— Richard,—( Llard. POETS. 8.— Goldsmith. 9.— Shakspere. I. F„ PARKER, A NOVELTY IN THE SPORTING WORLD. Complete Sporting Magazine for 131. Now Ready, for January, 1841, to be continued Monthly, Price 2d, wilh no accurate Engraving of the Sub- sciiption Room at Tatlersall's fT, he TRUE SPORTING CHRONICLE. A Containing the Fluctuations in the Betting, on the Deiby, on every day from Nov. 28ih till l? ec. 31st. — Correc t Lists of the Entries for the Derby and Oaks, 1841; the Trainers' Names; ( heir previous Entries; the Races they have Won or Lost, & c.; the whole numbered for the use of Clubs or Lotteries— in addition tn all the Sporting News of tbe Month, in Hunting, Steeple- Chasing, Coursing, Shooting, Cricket, Pedes- trianism, and Miscellanies, including u full account of ( he Battle between Hunt and Preston. Published by Allen, Warwick- lane ; Berger, Holy- well- street; and to be had, on order, of ali venders of Periodicals. %* Be particular in ordering the TRUE SPORT- ING CHRONICLE, 16 Quarto Pages. EXTRAORDINARY SUCCESS !! 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