Zealous admirer of the drama, Anxious to get a famous place, All who behold your wretched plight Must own most pit- ifvi's your ease, AND PEOPLE'S PENNY' POLICE GAZETTE. Vol. 2. A POOR, PITTANCE. llRMMUJUIIIIII IIPI1! m AMELIA; OR, THE HONEST THIEF. AMELIA DAUBIGNY'S father had died six fcnnths previous to her birth; lie had perished by his own hand, unable to bear up against the total loss of hi* fortune in ruinous speculations, leaving Ills wife pregnant. Madame Daublgny did not long survive such repeated m'sfortunps, tut died on brlngi: g Amelia into the world, whom she confided to the care and affection of her milker, Ma- rt. m* de Valollle. That good lady then toik charge of ihe poor orphan, whom she soon bscame doatipgly fond of. Madame de Valoille had still two daughters, both riUrrled, nnd with families, not coiild they avoid feeling a great jealousy on see- ing the preference given by their mother to little Amelia. Madflitts de Valoille, an excellent woman, possessing a sound judgment, frequently endeavoured to eradicate the ill- will her daughters bore towards the orphan, but always in vain. The vexation it caused the good lady affected her health, aud after a long and painful illness, during which Amelia, then twelve years old, paid her eve>- y Imaginable attention, closed her career. It would be impossible to describe poor Amelia's despair; she insisted that hei grandmother was not dead ; she refused to leave htr, and was obliged to ba torn from the sc « ne of grief* On ihe day after the funeral, the heirs of Madame de Valoille assembled in the saloon of the deceased, to be present at the opening of the Will, by which the good lady nam d her two daugh- ters her sole executrixes; then came logtcies to the poor. The will finished in these words:—" The only thing I give and bequeath to my grand- daughter, Am 11a Daublgay, is a little walnut tree work box, locked up in my dommode, and which I beg her always to keep In remembrance of me.*' Madamj de Valollle's daughters no longer thought of her jea- lousy, on seeing that poor Amelia, win bad seemed such a favourite with their mother, was in a m inner forgotten by her win had al- ways been goodness and justice Itself. They m. » n tally agreed to take care ot their niece, and by their affection, to cover the ap- parent ingratitude of thtlr mothsr. But Amelia always preserved a grateful recollection of her good grandmother, and ot the caresses she had received tr<. m her. Madame Daublgny had now attained her elghteanth year, and had already baen asked in marriage. Hut alas ! she possessed no property whatever, and her aunts, mothers of several chlleren, could not give her a portion sufficient to enable her to be united to Alfred de Valcour, the son of an ancient notary, whom she had distinguished amongst the yourg men who aspired to her hand. One evening that Amelia, alone in her chamber, was attentively considering iler little box, that she prized above all things, sh; discovered a spring she had not yet perceived; she thought there might be a double bot* m. and pressing the spring with her finger, sh* was not a little surprised to find a little sealed parcel; sh. » opened it and read these words " My good Amelia, accept the enclosed sum as a pledge o- f my tenderness " Tlio sum amounted to a hundred thousand francs in bank notes. . Vh- s immediately ran to shew her treasure to her aunts, who were delighted with their niece's good fortune. " My mother has wished,'' SAid one of them, " to give us a lesson ; she has thought that the best means of forcing us to love you, was to oblige us to Uk J you, and that subjugated bj your amiable qualities, we Should abjure our jealousy; that la why she left you nothing in her will; but we rejoice from the bottom of our hearts at what she has done for you.'' Madame Daublgny, rich with an income of five fhousand francs, was shortly after inirried to Alfred de . Valcpur, But this union was but of short duration ; the cholera, which had just burst forth in so frightiul a manner, counted amongst its victims the youthful husband of poor Amelia. You can figare to yourself the grief ef that unfortunate woman, who, after being married scarcely six months, saw the edifice ef happiness she had taken such pleasure in erecting, all at once fell to the ground. She withdrew from society, and though before she had been eighteen month's a widow, she had received flattering proposals of a second marriage; the remembrance of Alfred still lived too deeply in her heart to permit her to bear a new name. Mistress of a considerable fortune, for young De Valcour had left her all his property, Amelia employed her fortune in relieving the distressed; it was the sweetest of the pretty widow's enjoyments. One day, when fatigued with a long walk, Madame de Valcour had resolved to pass the evening at home, which she generally devoted to her aunts, she employed herself In reading. She had sent away her servants; she was, therefore, alone in her apart- ment, where the interesting nature of the work she was reading, had prevented her retiring to bad at the usual hour, when she was all at once startled from her reading, by a noise she heard in the saloon adjoining her bed chamber. Amelia, at first, thought it might be the wind, but the noise increasing, she resolved to as- certain the occasion of it, and taking a taper in her hand, she opened her chamber door, and saw he tore her a man shrouded in a wide cloak, and his face covered with a mask. She wished to cry out, but fear paralized h.* r tongue. The maa came forward, and in a gentle tone of voice sa d to her:— " Fear nothing, madame ; it is not m/ intention to hurt you; but if you give any alaim, I should be forced, though to my great regret, to make use of this pistol. I am in absolute want of ten thousand francs; I know that you have them, be kind enough to deliver thtm to me. Moreover, I hereby formally engage to repay you that sum in a twelvemonth, at the same hour." AU the while speaking, the had walked up to the bureau, and Was preparing to"" take" the sum"' he" needed, when Amelia who had amnewhat recovered1 from the effects of her alarm, ex- claimed :— " 3ut, sir, this is a robbery you are committing, and I will never suffer——*' " You will suffer it, modernfor it is not in your power to pre- vent It," and without waiting for an answer, lis took the ten tho 11 sand fr;> ncs. • ' " You will tell me, at leant, sir, how you have been able to effect an entrance here?'' " I have bribed your porter, who has accompanied me to the door of your saloon. I oWn it was wrong of me thus to com- promise you; but, to prevent my h iving rg tin recourse to the same means, promWe to leave your window open this day twelve- m> nth, that I can reach you, in order to fulfil my engagement." " I consent to it," replied Amelia, without knowing what she was saying. " I insist," added the unknown, " upon the most absolute silence respecting all that has passed between us;— do you pro- mise it me ?'' Amelia silently s'gnified her assent, and he disappeared. Amelia, for a long time, puzzled herself to imagine who that man could be, whose profession was so little in harmony with his mild voice and politeness. The fright she had undergone, made her seriously ill; the least noise she heard, caused her violent pal- pitations, even sometimes threw her into hysterics, but she never betrayed his secret. At length, thanks to the care of a skilful physician, she gradually recovered, and soon the roses of her complexion bloome I again upon her cheek. Amelia awaited with great anxioty for the time that was to bring back to her the singular robber. The appointed night at length arrived. Seated by the fire side, she kept continually looking at tbe clock until it struck the hour of two, when, faith- ful to her premise, Bhe went and opened the window of her bed- room, and soon after the extraordinary and still masked visitor entered the apartment. " Madame, I coine to return the sum you lent, me in so ob- liging and so spontaneous a manner; you have kept your word with me, and I keep mine ; you have acquired my gratitute.'' He was already at a distance when - Amjha believed him still before her; she fancied herself the sport of a dream. In the meantime, her look? fell upon a green morocco pocket- book placed on the table, and containing ten bank notes. Amelia could not refuse putting faith in this second apparition. It was now nearly six months since Madame de Valcour had received the visit of the mysterious unknown, nhni she went to pass a few days in the eountry at one of her friends. Amongst the numerous company assembled at the chateau, was a young man who had just succeeded to his uncle's estates who was par- ticularly distinguished; his noble manners, and the sweetness of his voicts pre- possessed you in his favour; there was, however, remarked in hvm, a tendency to do and , ts> say extraordinary things; his ideas were so romantic, they frequently created laughter at his expence. He seemed extremely attentive to the charming Madame de Valcour, and seldom quitted her. She, on her side, seemed as- tonished whenever the stranger addressed her, and she frequently asked herself where she could have heard that voi. e which caused her such emotion. She was one morning walktng alone in the park, when she met him coming towards her. He offered her his arm, and they con- tinued their pnmenade together. The young man dared to avow the passion he felt lor Madame de Valcour ; astonished at tills sudden declaration, she replied, she was not yet sufficiently acquainted with h! m to enable her to judge of the sincerity of his professions. " Pardon me, madame, you are acquainted with me," he re- sumed, pressing her hand to his lips; " do you remember a man in a misk who introduced himself into your house to borrow ten thousand francs of you'" " How, sir, could it be you?'' exclaimed Amelia; " I am no longer astonished at my being struck by the sound of your voice when I heard it here the first time; but, tell me, sir, what is the strange motive that can have engaged you to cause me such alarm ?" " I was then a very wild young fellow; I was fond'of gambling, and havii. g lost ten thousand francs, upon my word, I knew not who to audress myself to. My uncle, who has lately died, leaving me his fortune, would have disinherited me. I will own to you, that, being unable to fulfil my engagements, I was going to blow out mj brains, when one of my friends spoke to me of you— of your fortune,— and, above all, of your goodness. I had then the idea of addressing myself to you for a loan ; but you might refuse me; then a plan, rcmintic I know, it, but conformable to my character, presented itself to ray mind, and I resolved to pass, in your eyes, for a robber. I now come to abjure my errors at your feet, and to demand your hand as ; ihe pledge of my pardon.'' Amelia, some time afterwards, became Madame Dervaux, and she is now the happiest of wives. Daniel Pnreell, the famous punster, was one day asked to make a pun extempore. " Upon what subject?" said Daniel. " The king," answered the other, ** Oh, sir,' said hp, " the king is no subject," ANECDOTES OF THE LATE SULTAN MAHMOUD. WHO has not read the " Arablaa Nights* Entertainments," and who, having read them, does not remember the favourite custom of the caliph Haroun al Rascbid, which consisted in his perambu- lating the streets of Bagdad, at night, in disguise, escorted by his grand vizier, Glaffar, and his chief eunuch. Mesrour? Well, the late sultan Mahmoud had also the same practice, and a crowd of serious or amusing anecdotes » re related on that subject, from whieh we shall select two the least known. One evening that Mahmoud, in the dress ofa dervish, had mixed with the crowd attending prayers in the imperial mosque of the faubourg ef Ayoub, his attention was excited by the sermon an iman was addressing to the assembled believers. The worthy priest, forgetting all prudence, was listening to nothing but h' » sentiments of horror against what he called the sacrilegious pro- jects of the sultan. He treated them as unheard- of impieties— as execrable, enormous crimes ; he affirmed that his soul was already the sport of the eVil genii in this world, as in the other it would be the prey of the devil, and that if Allah had not yet struck him with his thunderbolt, it was lecausehis lncontestible madness sav « rt him f oia the chastisement. The audience listened in silence, but evidently without disapproving; near the chair were some ulemas grave personages, whose tacit assent might be guessed in certain parts of the discourse, by the all but imperceptible undulation of their caouks. Mahraoud, motionless, beneath a pillar, awaited the termination of the prayers, nor did he stir till the crowd had dis- persed through the faubourg; then, when the Iman in his turn re- tired, he followed him from the mosque and accosted him in a solitary street. " Peace be with thee, venerable man," he said to him, respect, fully holding him by his robe, " If I have well understood the sense of thy words, you think that the Afrltses are below disputing for the soul of Mahmoud, and that one day Mouklr and Nekir, tho » e two terrible judges of hell, will feed their eyea with his tor. ments 1" " Yes, certainly," replied the iman, all boiling still with the fere of his eloquence ; " the last hatti- scherlff of tne sultan has just filled up the measure. His crimes are even greater than his insa- nity ; that is why it is not sure that Allah will pardon him, an/ 1 that he will not stumble, in consequence, upon the bridge that leads to paradise!" " But," insisted the sultan, " is It your opinion that by obeying the regulations of this hatti- scheriff, we sin quite as much as him- self in the eyes of Allah I" " It is very probable !" said the iman. " Then," continued Mahmoud, " since we are doubtfnl of ob- taining salvation by obeying, and that yet if we disobey, the wrath of the sultan is inevitable, does it not seem to you that to extirpate the author of the sin from the midst of us would be the deed of a good mussulman 1 ' Mashallah 1" . exelaimed the iman, starting back with astonish- ment and fear, " if any one was to hear you. The blood of the prophet is sacred !" he" added, as speaking to himself the law for. bids the shedding of it.'* " Yes; but one might poison or strangle him, might we not?" insinuated Mahmoud, In a low voice. The iman reflected, shook his head; then, with downcast eyes, his face pale with deep tmotion, he said: " I have read from the one end to the other the immense collec- tion of the Muezzenann, where are classed all the works of our holy doctors, and own 1 have not seen in any of them, that it was permitted to kill the padischa." " Seek diligently," returned Mahmoud, " I have an idea that you will perhaps finish by finding oue passage?" The biting expression of bitterness that had vibrated in this repetition of this insidious question betrayed tie sultan. The iman started, cast on him a look of affright, and, in his trouble, had not even the power to embrace his knees and implore Ms pardon. " Fear nothing," said the sultan to him, " the ery of thy con- science which Is pure, has preserved thee from my vengeance. After all, thou art an excellent Osmanli; since the ancient customs are so precious and so dear to thee, I flatter myself that thou wilt one day combat with no less zeal for the maintenance of ray sta- tutes and of my laws. Thou bearest in thy bosom the lamp that enlightens and vivifies; let no breath from hell succeed in extin- guishing It. I appoint you to meet me next Friday, at the mosque. Forget it not;— may Allah inspire yon— such is my wish and my hope." At these words he hastened away, that he might return to the seragHo before nlglit, where the divan had to deliberate, that even- ing, upon a communication from the reisa- effendi. But it was decreed from all eternity, that the divan should sepa- rate that evening without deliberating. As Mahmoud was hastening on at doubly- quick time, reflecting on the political advantages he might derive from this incident, groans and exclamations resounded from the further end of the next street. He was soon on the spot from whenee the noise pro- ceeded, and perceived one of the common people, painfully drag- ging himself along the pavement on his hands and knees, and every time that one of his feet, by accident, came In contact with Man of meat, you deem il me « ty As il ap^ eai s to he a cheulor , And though i> o stiinger of rhymes ' lis cleai You are addicted to false me( a) tre ! the ground, it made him start up with an invocation to the pro. pheC. TUB SAKA. " Meicv! I am fi dead man! scoundrel of a cadi!" sighed the miserable man. " Ah! good derrish, have compassion on me," he said to the sultan, who had stopped at the sight. " If you are rich In alms, refuse ftot to your brother the skin of a fresh killed Iambi for the cadi has jnst had eighty blows with a cane applied to the soles of my feet. * nd ycu must know what a horrible torture It is toctlre them by bathing them in salt and water." " Most willing??. replied Mahmoudi " but where am I to pro- cure the lambskin at tNs hour ?'' .• . . " There, at the butcher s, at the co ™ " i * » ™ ck, he s at home-- the old miser, he will flay ycm as " the Iamb If you don't mind— go. Ah 1 ah t- Oh f- this pavement is burning— oh, my feet — knock— knock I— then " ,„ « « I am going," said the sultan, " but where will you sit down to hsvs your f » et wrapped up in the skin?" " Make yourself e* sy? I am not a v* g ant. A few yards fur- ther and I am at home. Make haste— make haste— a thousand needles are running into my feet. It Is- lt seems as if the very marrow of my bones was being pulled out with red- hot pincers. In less than three minutea the patient WS3 laid upon a mat in his house. His feet were wrapped In the warm ? nd bleeding skin. The remedy predueed its usual effect. The poor / ehow s suffenngs abnted, and he wan able to testify all his gratitude to Ms beno- factor. . . . " VlHums dervish!'' he ffxclaimed, " tell me your name, tft. M I may every evening pronounce it in my prayers. Mine Is Saadon- iahi I am by trade a water- carrier, and thanks to Mahomet, have sufficient custom to furnish me with as much pillaw and tobacco as I require? but 1 have not always, in case of emergency, ten or twelve piastres, the ordinary price of a lajttb- skin about we- " Say no more about it!'' said the sultan. " But tell me, my poor friend, what have you done to deserve tJils bastonading > " The cadi pretends I have • ffended his highness.'* " You?" " 1 his Is my fault. On returning from the fountain this morn- ing, I, from the bottom of the street, caught a glimpse ofthe pala- qulns of the women of the seraglio, whom the eunuchs were escort- ing towards the pavilion of Buynkdere^ Eblis, doubtless, tempted me, for I invbluntarily exclaimed to myself. * Ah !' why so many women for one mau, who cannot love them all, when I, I conld love a single one so well t These words were reported to the cadi. I was seized, bound, , aken before hlm— and eighty blows with a cane, without abating me one, were counted out to me on the sole* of my feet. I don't lie when I tell y « u I have been more than three hours in ccmlng from the cadi's to my house." " Truly,' said the sultan, ready to burst with laughter, " his highness might, perhaps, not have been so ticklish as tt? his honour as the cadi. Well! but henceforth you will have more command over your tongue?" " I swear it!" exclaimed Saadoulah ; " and yet those words th overflowed my Hps were but the result of a sentiment buried in i^ y heart; for, if I do not yet earn enough to keep a wife, I am not the? less dying to have one.'* " God is great!' said Mahmoud; 4< he will g veyouone if such is his pleasure, and with her the fortune necessary for her support. Adieu, trust In the providence of Allah ; perhaps, before the wounds are cured that your tongue has madt, his hand will shecL^ a salutary balm upon that of your heart." Next day, at twilight, two bostangis went and appreheni Snadoulah, blindfolded him, and conducted him into a llttl^ lated k! o « k, at the entrance of the gardens. A woman, covej^^ a veil, was seated upon a sofa, in a corner of the room from the sultan, who occupied the other end of thes * bostangis regained the door. ' " Rahethat veil," said Mahmoud to Saadc^ J seated at the foot of the steps after the band fr< m his eves. " Allah ! I ara in paradise, underj murmured Saadoulah, dazzled bvg " Dost thou think she is rea/ Mai mmd, sm ling. " Oh! I would receive her." " She Is thine; this pa- j over, th* re are in that pta assist tine in fittirg thyseii thee by his highness. NowH name ?'' " Ah I who canst thou be, if not the magnanimous and magnifi- cens padischa h mielf! ' exclaimed Saadoulah, in an ^ xtacy of ravishment; " accept the homage of thy servant, glorious h'ghness, and deig i to excuse my yesterday's familiarity.'' " Listen, I believe thee to be an honest man,*' said Mahmoud,-— ' remember thou hast boasted of b « ing well able to love a woman, I leave thee. Forget not thit I have great need of vigorous and val'ant soldiers for my army." The sultan immediately rejoined the two bostangls who were keeping guard outs de the kiosk, and himself closed the door upop the couple, while waltirg for the performance of the nuptial ccre mor. y by the cadi. fifty rubay f bostangl granteS need 1 tell thee my As for the Iman of the mosque of Eyoub, Mahmoud, under th same dervish dress, was punctual on the next Frldav to the rendez vous he had given him. The assembly wis select, thi Iman's chair, surrounded by a triple rank of mollahs, of softas, and ulemas. The discourse of the priest was ao agreeable to the sultan, that he sent him, on his return to the seraglio, a casket, containing r thousand zermahbond sequins of Selim III., and a superb copy of the " Haddle*," and a collection of the " Proverbs of Mahomet." The late Duke of Riehmond was one of the kindest- hearted sportsman I ever knew. His untimely death, as every one knows, was owing to a bite from a pet fox that had preriously become ra- bid. I shall never forget my first interview with his Grace. Shortly after I joined the 5th ( we were then quartered in Dublin), I was on duty aa officer oi the guard at the castle; his Grace was Lord- Lieutenant; the Board of Green Cloth held its sittings, and the officers on guard were strange hands jnst arrived. We were in the room assigned us near the castle gates ; when a careless free- and- easy sort of half sportsmen, half groom, strolled into us, and si; t ng down to our table, began t « talk of the sports of the season, an-. t the fun then g > ing on in the Irish metropolis. I did not care to interrupt him ; but Delviile, a young cornet of Dragoons, looked at him through a glass, and made one or two very contemptuous re- plies to the stranger's observations, which, so far from being affronted at, the other took In great good humour, chuckling with laughter, and kicking his legs under the table as if actually dancing witli delight. At last Delvitle deliberately rang the beU. The or- derly answered It. " Orderly, who is that fellow ?" asked Delville. Judge how he felt when the reply was, " His Grace the Lord- Lieu- tenant!'' " Good day, gentleman! Good day, gantieman !'* said his Grace, laughing heartily as he went out ot the room.— f) ld Sporting Magttzm'e for October. LOIN lOOtN :— S U i\ DAY, OCTOBER 17, 1841. SHORT METRE. MARLBOROUGH STREET, WANTED A WIFF,— An old gentleman, with his clothes banting in tatters about hi- back, ami his faoe ap- parency Mack- leaded, and - billing as brightly as anew- po'. isbed stove, was charged liy two policemen with running alonw Oxford Stree', in the condition in which the magis- ra'c then saw him, followed by a posse of people, a- d calling out " Fire'. — Murder f— Thieves'" at the very top of his voice, wi ich was one of most ste" torion power; and upon taking him into eustodv, he accused himself of being ad. luded victim. MAGISTRATE.- What'S your name, sir ? PRISONER.- Mr. Waikins Suivey, your worship MAGISTRATE.— What are you, pray ? PRISONER.— Au unfortunate gentleman: that is, 1 am Snrt,.„ endant, your worship, and live in L. mb's Couduit Street. MAGISTRATE.— And what have you to say for your inngulai conduct, and the much- more singular appear- ance which you make ? PRISONER ( solemnly). Please your worship I want a wife I ( Loud laughter.) MAGISTRATE — Well, but that is no answer to the charge. What has your wanting a matrimonial partner to do with it ? PRISONER.— Every thing, your worship!— tverv thing! — Heighol— 1 have heen a most- cruelly ill- used man. Please to look at that. Here the gentleman with the black- leaded face hand- ed up a copy of the Times newspaper, and directed the attention of the worthy magistrate to an advertisement Which was couched in ihe following terms - " MATMMOKY !— A g^ itleman of independent properly, rged Tnrly. tivo, of amiable dispatltlon, and goo. I personal recommenda- tions. wishes to enter Into the holy » tate ot matrimony w. th n lady ol unexceptionable, Intrinsic, and personal attraction,, nol more than lw.- nty five year, of nge. All letters a< ldrej » » d conti. d. otlady to A. B., to be left at the Poit Office till called for, will " fce. tfsnded to, and ttie strictest s: crecy observed." \ 1AGISTRATE.— Is this your advertisement ? MR. SNIVEY.— It is, your worship; AND yesterday I received a letter, couched iu the most elegant language and signed " Floia," appoin ing a meeting this niorn- Sn* at a certain bouse in Poland Street, Oxfo d Streei. Thither this morning, aceordingly, I went, and having knocked at. the door, and sent up my card, I was ns'tered into a handsome drawing- room, where I Was told that the la ' y would attend upon me in a few minutes. I took a sent, and taking up a book that was lyiog open upon the table, I began to peruse it. It was " The Sorrows of Wertcr," ami I soi n became deeply immersed in iis beauties. Suddenly I heard a loud tittering, and before I could look tound lo see from whence it proceeded, 1 found myself seized by two big fellows, dressed like mechanics, who threw me ou tbe Moor, and held me down while tbe female who had opened the street door to me, procecdi d to black- lead my face in the manner you see it now, and she after- ward. polished it with a brush ! 1 struggled violently, Ttnd called murder, but it was not until tney had dread- fully maltreated me, ami torn my clothes nearly off my back, that 1 was enabled to releise myself from them, and make my way into the street, where I was quirkly followed by a great mob, who hallooed at me, laughed at me, and pelted me, and I verily believe I should have lost my life, bad uut the policeman come up. MAGISTRATE.— Well, Mr. Waikins Snivey, I really think tnat you have made yourself superlatively ridicu- lous in this affair, and I should imagine it nould sicken you of matrimonial advertisements for the future. I shall discharge you. MR. SNIVEY — liut ni. iy 1 not have a warrant against the parties who have treated me in this rascally man- lier ? MAGISTRATE — I think, for your own credit's sake, you had better let tbe matter rest where it is Mr. Watkins Snivey bowed to the magistrate's advice, and having sent for a coach, was driven to his residence in Lamb's- Conduit Street. A REAL TRACEDY. The City of Florence, generally ao peaceful, has just been the theatre of a horrible event. The Prince de Corelnl had, Jn hla service, a neitro, Zamor, proteasing the Mahometan religion, and who was il love with Marie Mun' iala Goldont. a fervent Cftthrdie. The neg< 0, In tbe nervlce of a rich nobleman hid tared up what, to the parent, of Mnnciata seemed, a little fortune, and they hid consented to give tllelr daughter in marriage to Zatuor. whose religion wat the only obatacle. every effort to convert hlra being In vain. On Friday, Munclata'a father Invited Zamor to a dinner « htre the whole family were present. Kvery thing pan. d off in the Htmost good- humour. 7. ill r eat heartily of a dish of meat mnd rice but Muclata having offered him a glnsa of wine, he pushed It away disdainfully, and ihe young girl Bald lo him . tnlllrig, " You art no longer u Mahometan; you have eaten pork.'' He seized a knife, and plunged It into the heart of his Intended. The parent, endeavouring to save their child, Zulu rutht'd on the father, jintl killed bun with file knife, ana ther attack- I1. the in Ilh: r ; the aon, while defending her to the utmoa- of bl. power, o ie'i cut for help, It'll In a moment, both the mother and the son had fallen beneath tlu knife of the murderer. Two carabineer, run up oil hearing tne thrleks of the victim!, lm Zimor who had armed hlmee f with a mutket tUat w> ot In th house, shot the first soldier through the head, and In hla turn, received the contents of hla comrade's carbine, and fell dead on the bodies of hla victim*. All that remained for juittce to do was, to draw up a epert of tlx murders, and see to tiie burial of six dead bodies bolter. THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. the pretty Lucille, the daughter of the- aged Clotilde, the wealthy neighbour of Ricardo. Ricardo was looked up to with particular venera- tion by the villagers, for he had been the confidential domestic of the- late Count Attenburg, and his benevo- lent character entitled him to all the respect that was shewn him. Haviag far more than enough for his own wants, and to provide for his son, his principal de- light was in relieving such of his poor neighbours who needed it, and honest poverty never appealed to him In vain. It was a complete holiday, and every one seemed determined to enjoy it to the utmost, and to do honour to the nuptials of Jerome aad Lucille. Ric^ rdo was himself all joyous expectation, and he f And was she kind to you ?" askedRicardo, " Kind," replied Julio, energetically; " eh, sir, she was all affection; never, never can her loss be replaced." " Is, then, your mother dead " Alas ! sir," said Julio, deeply affected, " she is*'* " And have you, then, no other relations living?" enquired Ricardo. " Not one ia the world, sir," was the reply •" no relations— no fiiends 1" " Poor lads, poor lads," said Ricardo, compassion- ately; " but whither are you now going ?" " We arc going to Marseilles, sir, but we stepped out of the road, because we heard that there was to be hid arisen long before any of his neighbours, to make a grand feast at Altenburg, and a wedding." preparations for the festivities of the day. Having left his cottage, he met old Clotilde just leaving herst aad dressed in her best for the occasion. Some per- sons might have objected to the youthful fashion of her attire ; but if there was aHy particular weakness which the good woman possessed, it was that of a weak memory, which made her forget that she was so old as she really was by some fifteen ar twenty years, and " How old are you, ltly lads ?" inquired Ricardo. " Julio is just a year older than I," said Floriaa. " And I am just turned fourteen, sir » " said Julio. Ah I indeed ?" exclaimed Ricardo, " this is for- tunate, Then turning to the persons assembled, he said i— " I need not inform you, neighbours, after the char- ter which I have read, that I have full power in this Dr. LANGHORNE'S story of Theodosius and Constantia owed its origin fo the 16th number of tbe Spectator. MOLIERE. Many of his most whimsical allusions in Le Bourgeoise Oentilhomme, are taken from the Clouds of Aristophanes. He did not deny his obligations ; but when condemned for transcribing passages from Cyrano de Bergeyrac, he jocularly replied, " This scene is good, therefore it belongs to mej and I retake my right wherever 1 find it." Of the Tartuffe, Riccoboui writes ( p. 13?) that a century before Molifere, they performed on tbe, Italian theatre Le Docteur llachetone, ttu I'on trouve le curactere, les actions, et let principalis: itiscoUrs ft* Tar- luffe. Dean Charpentier averred, that this comic writer pillaged without scruple the thoughts of others. The scene of the Pyrillonian philo sopher, in the Forced Marriage, is taken word- forword from Rabelais. The play of the Physician, in spite of himself, is founded on the circum- stance related by Grotius, and the subject is in Olearius. The story of George Daudin is stolen from the Decame- rone of Boccaccio. To BerggyraC ' e is indebted for his Character of the Pedant, ridicules in the tricks of Scapin. MUNCHAUSEN'S Travels.— Perhaps the author of this work had read that, in Nova Zembla, the frost is so in- tense, that it freezes people's words, and when a thaw THE DEATH GRASP; OR, A FATHER'S CURSE! BY THE ANAEA OF " ELA, THE OUTCAST," ETC. ( Continued from our lent.) " There, young lady," said Jacquelina, " yau will find this a very comfoi table room, and the bed is well aired, and now I wish you good night.'' With these words the old woman bustled out of the room, which Marceline beard fastened upon her. Left to herself, Marceline for some time reflected upon her situation, and gave way to the anguish of her feelings; but at length she became more composed., and a hope sprang up in her bosom that something would transpire to release her from the powerof the duke, and to frustrate his diabolical iat « p*' 10n8 A cheerful fire blazed in the gr- a(()) and t{, e r which was furnished in the m- J9t costly style, had a comfortable appearance, , „ d was ca] cu] a^ d ' to calm the feelings of the unfortunate girl; and, aft. r breathing a prayer " k0r the „ f9ty of her mother and the restoration of Henri, she seated herself by the side of ine tire, and takVng up a book, which she found lying on tne dress;, ng- table, being disinclined for sleep, sne gi^ ncer, 0Ter its CODtents. It consisted of ancient ™ < n< l « and tales, whose deep interest were sufficient to m'it the attention ; but one more attractive than the rest most forcibly struck her, and her thoughts quickly became abstracted from her own sorrows in the romantic incidents which it related. She stirred the 6re into a cheerful blaze, and then commenced reading the ro mantic • story, which will be found in the succeeding chapte'.. CHAPTER XIT. THE CASTLE OF ALTENBURG. " COME, come, Florian, you must not give way to despair, Providence will not forsake us thus, depond , ... , . , i .-.,.* • —----- <-- -*- ~ r- » , — , • • . ,—- - -,------ -- - <,„ i( cheer up cheer up • and if we can OHW gaiA I B( lt 14 " not known positively that the count is and to be placed in honest employment, fitting your veutor of it, was tbe sixth author who delivered it, as ' r' . . . y i uj. gomeJ dead," said Clotilde. station by the bounty of tbe lord of the hamlet, the Prior was the last, and perhaps not the least spirited. [ We intend to resume this interesting subject in our next leader.] ERNNESTINE DE LACY! OR, THE ROBBER'S FOUNDLING. » Y THE AUTHOR or " TUs DEATH OBASF," ETC, ( Continued from our last.) hence the somewhat inappropriate style of dressing to business, but as it is my wish to do that which is satis- takes'place, such is the confused noise' in the air from the which we have alluded. | factory to every one of you, I will he guided by your | jargon of sounds, you are stunned, and instantly grow Ricardo and Clotilde greeted each other with that decision, these two poor lads, who have coaie in | cordiality which shewed the strength and sincerity of the nick of time, seem just to answer to the first ar- their friendship, and expressed their anxiety for the tide of the Count Altenburg's intentions; shall I fix hour to arrive which would still further strengthen that on them to be objects ofthe bounty ?— Neighbours, the friendship by the union of their children." word ?" " Oh, Ricardo," said the old woman, " this, I antiei- | An unanimous assent was the reply; and Ricardo, deaf: at first, though ( it is added), it is not difficult to distinguish tbe female words from the male, as they pre| K> nderate. MUKPHY'S farce of the Citizen. The character of Old Philpot is taken from Moli& re's Harpagon, in his Avttt. HANS CARVEL'S RING— Dr. Warton ( Essay on the pate, will be one of the most joyous days I have ever then turning to Julio and Florian, who had listened P. eniuf. an* Writings of Pope) observes, that Prior'. . , a ., - i - • i i » i I i 1 . « i « I Uonc* I ' OWIFOL e Ditirr f t, o LITUNNTIAII At mnlfsb . if 1T0 aonp. experienced, notwithstanding the pleasure which oever | amazed to his words, observed,— fails to crown the day of our village festival." " And yet, dame," answered Ricardo, with a deep sigh, " that day never comes round but it casts a gloom upon my spirits, which I in vain endeavour to shake off, for it reminds me of the death of my late noble master, who founded this hamlet; and to it annexed a charity for orphans." " Then, my poor lads, here your journey is at an end." " How, sir ?" demanded Jutio and Florian, in a breath. " Briefly this, that you may set your hearts as well as your limbs at rest," answered Ricardo; " from this moment you are adopted here; taken care of for life, Hans Carvel's Ring, the invention of which, its gene alogy be worth tracing, is first due to Poggius. It is found in the 133( 1 of his Facetiae, which is entitled, " Visio I'rancisci Philelphi;" from hencelf Rabelais in- setted it, Under another title, is his third book and 28th chapter. It was afterwards related in a book culled " the Hundred Novels}" Ariosto finishes the fifth of his incomparable satires with it; Malespini also made use ol it; Fontaine, who imagined Rabelais to be the in the next village, probably the charity persons will relieve us. Besides, you know that I am a mortal enemy to melancholy, and I will never be contented until I have succeeded in making you a con- vert to my temperament." " I know, dear Julio, that I am a terrible melan- choly boy, and would that I had the spirits to battle with misfortune as you can. But surely ours is no common lot." " Well, that is true, Florian; but what is the use of grieving ? That wont mend it, you know ; for my own part, I have declared war against sorrow and de- spair, and something strikes me that 1 shall ultimately come off victorious. Come, come, my dear brother, 1 am stronger than you ; lean on me for support, and let us push on our way.'' " Alas! Julio, I am so tired that I fear I shall not be able to proceed many yards ; besides, it is so late, so long past midnight that we stand not the least chance of gaining a shelter; tbe inhabitants of the village have, doubtless, long been locked in the arms of sleep. Let us rather lie down here till daylight; an hour or two's sleep would so refresh me." " But I should prefer having it in a bed, Florian; the night dew is not by any means a remedy for the rheumatics; and— but eh I— by the light of the moon I behold a castle peeping from among the trees." " What a dismal- looking place ; it chills my heart to gaze at it eveu." " On the contrary, it gladdens mine, Florian; we must not always judga by appearances; and if the castle has an ugly look, Its inhabitants mav not be in- sensible to humanity. At any rate, I will make au appeal to them." " But recollect the unseasonable hour, Julio." " And recollect, dear Florian, how pleasant a warm bed would be. I will, at least make the trial, and they can but refuse us, you know." " Well, Julio, I Will yield to you, but I am fearful we shall not meet with any success. Oh, dear, oh, dear, how fatigued I am, and so hungry." " Hungry I I am ravenous, Florian ; so come along, lean on me, and may good fortune smile upon us." This conversation took place between two lads of handsome and noble appearance, but humbly attired, and evidently worn out with fatigue aud suffering, and the scene in which it took place was one of the most gloomy description. It was just on the borders of an extensive forest, across which they had been travelling for several n.. t i .. r . n. ... " True, dame, it is not," returned Ricardo; " but when we come to recollect how long it is since he has been absent, w « have every reason to form that con- clasion. Never was there a kinder- hearted nobleman than Count Altenburg.'' " Yes, well do I remember him j— he was one of the most amiable men that ever lived ; but the baroness—" " Oh, name her not," interrupted Ricardo;'' although she is the count's niece, I cannot think of her without a noble Count Alteuburg." " What, we I we I" delightfully exclaimed the or- phan brothers, and tears of joy rushed to their eyes, as I they folded each other in a warm embrace, ( To be continued in our next.) TO CORRESPONDENTS. o.. D . no iuii » i . U. TO, i i » <" » ui - or vyiuiuui i „ ro . .,„_ t . . , .. . I Ernnestine heard the account given by Lord Raymond feeling of dislike I find it utterly impossible to ^ ZZZrt', -, t * » k° dM* » « » <* » « » , but, than f w intetview wilh her supposed relatives with much ST^^ J^ astoo^ ffleut, both - • ——— • lours past, in the hope of being able to reach some village, where they might obtain food and shelter for the night, from the kindness and hospitality of some of the inhabitants. They had not taken food t'or several hours, and were entirely destitute. They were orphans, and knew not whither to direct their footsteps, from whom to seek protection or relief. Julio was the eldest, and was possessed of animal spi- rifs, that enabled him to smile at misfortunes, beneath which stronger constitutions would, probably, have sunk ; but Florian was of a more delicate nature, and una ble to resist the shafts of care. Leaning on tke arm of his brother for support, Flor: nn suffered himself to be led towards the castle, which was an extensive and gothlc edifice, blackened by Time, aad half covered with moss and ivy. They looked up at the different casements, but saw not the rl^ ast signs of any person being up. There was no light to be seen in any portion of the building ; and Florian, sighing, agaii endeavoured to persuade his brother to abandon all thoughts of seeking a shelter in the castle, when it appeared to him that there was such little chance of their meeting wilh any success. Julio Lwas, however, of a different opinion, and, seizing tbe fll at the ponderous gates, he pulled it boldly, and aited the result with a » assumption of impatience he really feel, but which he affected, merely to en- Jiis brother. Several minutes elapsed, and no eturned, and Julio again pulled the bell il » n before. It was not, however, nntil Lsmiie three or four times that they castle being inhabited when, brother discovered a light . casement, just above the Sly disappeared, and pre- mie voice demanded who Jted ? Julio answered; ' and the retur^^^^^^^^ Hfcwl from the individual who had put bolts, however, were withdrawn, and the o if s " swinging back on theirhinges, levealed to them the figure of an old- grey- headed porter, who, holding the lamp he carried in his hand above his head, eyed the boy with a stem and forbid- ding aspect, and then, ill a surly tone, he said :—• " Why, you impudent young varlet, what do ye mean by disturbing people at this hour of the nightP Any one would suppose that it had been some nobleman or the other by the boldness with which you pulled the bell." " We are poor dirtressed orphans, sir?' said Julio, " who have no home. no friends, we have travelled far, and have not tasted food for many hours; for the love of " " Speak louder," cried the old porter, in the same harsh tones;—" I am deaf, and cannot hear what you say." " We are orphans, sir," repeated Julio, speaking in the porter's ear, „',' tired and hungry; for the love of Heaven, then, grant us a shelter, and food '' " Food! shelter!" interrupted the porter, with a re- pulsive look ;—" get ye gone, ye scapegrace knaves, or I may be inclined to treat you with a flogging. Away with you ;— you shall not come in here." Before Julio or his brother could remonstrate far- ther, the surly old porter banged to the doors, and, bolting and locking theinasthey had been before, left the poor boys to their own reflection, and with no other prospect than that of passing the night in the forest. * » * » Sol had not long mounted his golden chariot in the Heavens, when a small hamlet in Provence might be seen in an unusual state of gaiety aud bustle, and it was very evident that something particular was about to take place. It was the morning of an annual fes- tival, which was celebrated in the village ; and to add to the joy of the occasion, on that day the son of old Riuardo, the father of the hamlet, was to be united to conquer, " And why should you he so prejudiced against the baroness, Ricardo ?" asked Glotilde. " I have frequently hinted to you why," he answered, " but I will now more explicitly give you my reasons. The Count Altenburg, you know, married the Lady Imogine; two boys wera th » fruits of their union; these children and the marriage crushed the hopes of the baroness of inheritance. Three years afterwards the count sailed on important business to Sicily, and has never been beard of since. A very short time after a fire broke out in the castle; it was said to be by accident, although it broke forth in two distant apartments at the same time, and ia that wing of the castle, and under the very room where the Lady Imogine and tho two children slept; they perished in the devouring element. The baroneas contrived to escape, but by what means Heaven and herself Only knows, and she is now in the possession of these wide domains." " This is a very mysterious and suspicious affair," said Cletilde, " but surely she Could not have been guilty of so dreadful a deod. 1 would much rather suspect that black. looking steward of her's, Geraldo, who seems to be the depository of all her secrets " " Psha!" ejaculated Ricardo, " what motive could he have in perpetrating such a crime I although, I do firmly believe, that there is no deed, however base and cruel, which he would shrink from committing. But I have not told you all, Clotilde. I have heard it whis- jered, and I strongly believe it to be true, that the joys were saved, and conveyed to some place of se- curity, by Huberto, the count's faithful domestic." Oh, no, I cannot think that, for if they had been rescued, and were still living, they would now be old enough to come forward and claim their rights," said Clotilde. " It is, however, very evident that the baroness has her suspicions that they are not dead," returned Ri- cardo, " or else she would not make sueh strict searches after them. What can be a greater proof of her guilt than the orders she has issued to have all the children who come into the village, that may appear to be of the same age as the orphans, seized and conveyed into her presence? But let us drop this subject; it tor- tures my heart to dwell upon it. Having arranged the settlement with the notary, the lads and lasses of the village may assemble as soon as they think proper ; and here they come, a merry party they are, too. Dame, bring out the bride to the door, whilst I stand with the bridegroom at mine, to receive tbem, as is cus- tomary on lhe feast day." This was immediately done, and the party of village lads and lasses, dressed gaily attired for the festival, tripped it merrily across the rustic bridge, and dancing around the bride and bridegroom, and their parents, to .. i - , „ , , - ," . . rasiouisuuieui, iium on account of their rejecting so Until we hate received the whole of the article. wealthv a suiter, and the mystery of their manner. She M', as a favour, has sent us the very new rtcitotions I ) m( j) however, frequently noticed circumstances in the of ' THE FRENCHMAN ANDTAE RATs," DFCD " HOOOE behaviour of Hubert Clensham and his wife, as also in AND THE VICAR," which tho sapient individual ima- I that of the parents of Godirey, that had excited hef fines are not very well known. Perhaps the same kind amazement, particularly * hen she ( juestionedthem about correspondent may next sond us a copy of the " SUN- her parents, a subject which they always sought to evade, BAY DISPATCH," as a paper " not genrrally known." and there were times when it caused considerable speeu- What a pity it is that sueh boobies should go to the ex- '" tion in her raind, and she was often inclined to con* tense of two or three pence to make / We( Ms « Wear Nature that they were not actually related to her. And in propria persoiws Inow the reception which the suit of Lord Ravmond, and " ROBIN HOOD."- happen to havo mad. » vtru I the LB. SERL% N' tl" y Ud made' more " than e'er . . , ., ,. *>: ' strengthened these surmises, great mistake, as tho articl. in question was r. cved , e- is straBg(. » the ejaculated, after she had listened i> er, t weeks b. foro yours. That ho is a gentleman, r. the stiltelnent of ilis lordship ; " there is some myj- aro convinced, ant incapatlo of acting in the manner I tery ;„ thi5 which I cannot fathom." you insinuate. As regards the letter of the person you << There certainly is a great deal of mystery in the cir- allude to, we have made a reply to him, and can not cumstance," said Lord Raymond, " and to me it Is a spare any further space to a subject unimportant to our most painful one. The only conjecture I can form is, readers, I. B.—" THE in No. 8S. We havo answered the question of " A CONSTANT READER," ( Merthyr Tidvil,) and a " WILLIAM" somebody ( the name is illegible,) so frequently, that we are surprised we should be again troubled upon the sub that thou art not related to those that have brought thee ROYAS. FAVOURITE" will be concluded \ up, Ernnestine." " But if not related to them, why should they take such an interest in my fate, and bring me up with so much care and aftctiou ?" said our heroine. " Probably they have been well rewarded for doing so, my dear Erunestine,'' returned Lord Raymond, " and to ..... . j, - .. - , ... I do them justice, amply have they merited any reward ject. Any charge made for the gifts we present with th may have received." this paper, is an imposition. .. 0b, yes, they have indeed," exclaimed Ernnestine, Nos. 3 and 4 of " MARY CLIFFORD" were pr. sentei U, er heart overflowing with gratitude, when she recalled GRATIS! withNo. 1 of" LLOYD'S COMPANION TO THE to her memory the innumerable acts of kindness she PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLES' POLICE had experienced from them ;" the closest ties of COII- GAZETTE," during the week of publication, but net with sanguiuity could not possibly have rendered them more the second edition of this Journal, which was reprinted I assiduous and affectionate. But this idea has taken the fallowing week. Nos. 1 to 5 of " LLOYD'S COM- such strong hold ot my thoughts, that I cannot rest satis- PANION, art n. w reprinted, and may be had of ail fied until 1 llave questioned them upon the subject. all Booksellers in the United Kingdom. Iwi.'! . immediately make the inquiry The favourite romance of " T HE DESTH GRASP ; OR A " 1 Commend thee for that resolution, dearest Ernnes- ^ „ J, '„ I, . tine," said Lord Raymond, " and if they really feel for PAT HER S CURSE, < M M. ndapnext. n the(.' thiU love which\ hes have always professed for thee, Penny weekly numbers and Fourpenny monthly parts, th „ m ,1(„ hrsiut(/ t0 ieW t' 0 | hy importunities, embellished with two elegant lingravmgs. 1 - — - - • *** All communications to be addressed ( post paid) to the Editor of THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, 231, High- street, Shoreditch. THE PENNY SttttSraf Ut AND PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. Alas! Ernnestine, no one hath more occasion to regret this secret than myself, since by it I am doomed to a state bordering upon despair. Without thee, Ernnes- tine, I feel that life would become to mc a dreary blank, a void, from which no future happiness could spring; and I ara presumptuous enough to think that thou, my Ernnettine, canst not look upon the uncertainty of the consummation of my wishes with indifference." Ernnestine looked up in his lordship's face with an expression of melancholy sweetness, and the deep blushes of maiden coyness that suffused hercheeks, spoke a more powerful language than words could have done. Sud- denly, however, the image of Godfrey started before her mental vision; her bosom heaved with agony, and she was uuable to restrain tbe tears that gushed spontane- ously to her eyes, and streamed down her cheeks. Lord Raymond looked at her lor an instant with a feeling of sympathy and regret, and then taking her hand, he said— " Well, I can read thy thoughts, lovely Ernnestine, and think not that I will attempt to depreciate them. It PLAGIARISM. WE have headed this article with a very ominous and „,„„„„ „., UCB1„„ 1U, „,.„ .. a.^., , ? v. e! 7 important title. By some it may be considered rustic music, they presented nosegays to the beauteous by others improper, at least to make the Lucille. Ricardo then produced a written document, ^ 10 £ aW J'^ e " ? " T'' dread jj, a i ii. m J . abode, and take the merit away from such as have em-, which he proceeded to read to them according to bellished, and set in a proper light the jewel which they is but uatural that the strength of first love, although the annual custom, and which stated the heads of the accidentally found iu a dunghill. This species of petty object that hath inspired it is no more— but forgive me, bounty annexed to the anniversary, as settled tweHty larceny is as old as the creation, and the practice so gene- Ernnestine, I know the subject causes thee the most years before, by the founder of the festival, Count ral, that it made Pope Ganganelli exclaim, " All the poignant agony, and Heaven knows that I would not Altenburg. The substance of it was as follows:— that books in the known world may be comprised iu 6000 folio cause thee a moment's pain. Nay, painful as would be if, on the day of the feast, any orphan, or two orphans, volumes, if filled with original matter ; the rest is all the task to me, did 1 think that thou could'st not accept not exceeding the age of sixteen, should arrive as plagiarism." We are rather disposed to believe what the of my hand without the sacrifice of the least portion of • - - - • 1 Protestant pope has asserted; and most deep readers, thy peace of mind, instantly would I absolve thee from we apprehend, will accord in his and our belief. In thl » the promises thou hast made me, and endeavour to view respect, at least, Solomon was perfectly correct when he thee only in the character of an affectionate, a dearly be- protested, that there was nothing new under the sun. loved sister." There may, indeed, be occasionally witnessed a very novel " Oh, my lord," returned our heroine, " pray forgive manner of telling the same fact, and " there, an end." | me this weakness ; but I know thou wilt. In spite of strangers in Altenburg, thoy should, if found worthy, be adopted and provided for ; and, in case of the future absence or death of the Count Altenburg, the funds should be vested in the hands of Ricardo, who was to decide whether the strange orphans be worthy of the provision . . „ ., , . ... ... But, as it is not our province to argue or debate how every effort, memory will cling to the object which first And now, said Ricardo, when he had come to the , awful the prat, tice ot steaiiUg other men's tkv- - hts may inspired our youthtulaffections; but— I have told tlice my the | be, we shall proceed to give a few instances of tiiMe liber- sentiments— I have not disguised a thought from thee, ties taken, with acknowledgment and without, and then and when I again tell thee that, after the unfortunate add the opinions of others ( as is our usual practice) upon Godfrey, there is no other man that hath or can hold so th » ,,;.. T„ ,, N ;,„„< . I,„ i,„ » ,;. A - : KI„ I warm a place ia mine heart's affections as thyself, thou wilt-" She paused, and was unable to finish the sentence. Lord Raymond raised her baud . rapturously to his lips, and devouied it wilh kisses. " Eninestine," he ejaculated, " dear Ernnestine, 1 __ j could not, I did not doubt thy truth ; and this la* t ac- 11 to steal from one's contemporaries, Iny appropriating to I knowledgment endears thee, if possible, more closely one's self their thoughts and productions, is like picking to mine heart than ever. I cannot describe the feeling ' peoples' pockets in the open street."— Sinesius goes fur- with which thou hast excited me ! It is not only love, conclusion of the document, " you have heard charter, and therefore to church wilh ye, and after that, for mirth, feasting, singing, and dancing." The bride and bridegroom, with delighted looks, took I the propriety or impropriety of the habit. A sensible each other's hands, and the lads and lasses again author has observed, that we may steal after the manner dancing to the rustic strains of music, were proceeding of bees, without wronging anybody; but the theft of the to do as Ricardo had commanded, when Julio and Flo- ant, which takes away the whole grain of corn, is not to rian appeared upon the bridge, and gazed upon the be imitated. La Mothe le Vayer says, ( letter 129,) " To happy party with looks of envy and admiration. Ri- take ' rom lhe ancients, and make one's advantage of what cardo and the others observed them, and were struck I they hav? written, is like pirating bey » nd the line ; but by their appearance. " Ah 1" exclaimed the old man, " two strange lads, and handsome youngsters, too. One of tbem seems much affected, while the other looks as gay as the merrriest amongst us. Stop a minute, my friends; 1 must speak to these lads." Julio and Florian had now descended from the bridge, the latter weeping bitterly. " Oh, Julio," observed Florian, sobbing, " what a wretched prospect have we now before us ; nothing but despair." " There, there," said the volatile Julio, " what's the use of being down- hearted about the matter? Suppose we are unfortunate now, we may have better luck another time. See, here are some good- natured looking souls already : they'll give us a little refreshment, I'll war- rant;— won't yoH, kind gentlefolks ?" Ricardo, whose interest was immediately excited in their favour, enquired who they were. Florian was too much affected to reply, but Julio repeated the same words that he had done in answer to the questions put to them by the surly old deaf porter at tbe castle of Altenburg, and also informed him of the reception they had met with there. " And whither came you from, my lads ?" enquired Ricardo. " Oh, sir, a very great distance from hence," answered Julio; " from Btrae, in Switzerland; and we have been travelling on foot above a month." " And your father," interrogated Ricardo. " We have no remembrance of him," said Julio; " lie died when we were both so young; mother was then reduced by misfortune, and travelled to Switzer- land, whero she seltltd in • humble cottage, but " Sinesius ther j he says,' It is a greater crime to steal dead men's writings than their clothes.'— There are authors who confess they got this or that part from some other author. They knew very well that stealing transports a man at the Old Bailey, but never at Parnassus. Since, therefore, the plagiarist escapes with personal impunity, let us see whe- ther his reputation suffers ; and we rather think, in the main, that instead of that being the case, it is the rather increased ; inasmuch as he has made the most of bea"- ties, which the world has generally passed by iu n « glect, and dressed them up to their utmost advantage. CKANTOR, a Greek philosopher and poet, was very useful to Cicero, who took many things out of his book, aud owned lhat he did so; for this reason Pliny does not reckon Cicero among the plagiarists. CONGRRVE made very free with Ben Jonson's plays, of which he was very fond. CHAUCER'S Palemon and Arcite is taken from a poem of Boccaccio's. HOMER took his Gardens of Alcinous from the descrip- tion of the garden of Eden by Moses. These gardens of Alcinous in the Odyssey, and the Elysium of the iEneid, have had hosts of imitators. The fictions of the Arabs were adopted by the Troubadours, and the first Gothic romancers. Among the Italians, on the revival of letters, Palci, Boyardo, and others, borrowed f'oni the Trouba- dours ; Ariosto borrowed from Pulci aud his followers; aud Spenser has copied Ariosto andTas o. Ariosto makes Astolpho mouut the clouds on the winged horse; he sees Paradise, and visits the moon, the description of which orb ( Mickle says) is almost literally translated in Mil- ton's Limbo. HOWARD, Earl of Surrey, a noble poet, copied whole sonnets from Petrach, hut something deserving of a more poweiful name. All my thoughts, my wishes, my affections, my hopes, are drawn towards thee. Each pulsation thou feelest, I feel. I seem to breathe the same breath as thou dost. 1 imagine that thou art a portion of myself; that we are already united, and to be divided from thee and still live would be impossible." " The same feeling, my lord— the same indescribable feeling— animates my breast," replied Eruncstiue. " It is not the same sentiment that throbbed my heart for Godfrey, and yet it is one, if possible, more powerful. 1 love thee not only for thy virtues, but because an in- stinctive voice seems to whisper me it is my duty so to do." " Stranue. iinaeennnlahle feelinc!" ejaculated Lord Strange, unaccountable feeling!' Raymond, " what can it mean?" A hollow laugh at that moment smote his ear, and Ernnestine, terrified, clung closer to him, and following the same dircctiou as his eyes, she beheld standing near them, with his cowl drawn over his face, the tall figure of a friar. It was but an instant, however, that they were permitted to see him, for waving his hand in a menacing attitude towards Lord Raymond, he darted forward, and was soon lost from their view, and before Lord Raymond had recovered from the astonishment, notLnmingled with a feeling of awe, into which his ap- pearance had I hrown him. " Who can that mysterious man be," said our horoine, who was at first very much alarmed, but shortly regained her composure, " and what purpose could hare brought him hither?" " Twice or thrice before hath that figure crossed my path," observed Lord Raymond, " and even dared to utter threats in my ear. Ah !— Osmond, the robber chief, the change which 1 saw exhibited to me by Hal of the Glen, exactly corresponded with that of him and this mysterious monk. And then their stature, their fea- tures, their voices, all resembled each other so closely, that—" " What meanest thou, my lord ? said our heroine, with astonishment depicted in her countenance. " That the man we have just seen is Osmond, the rob- ber chief," answered Lord Raymond. " Impossible!" ejaculated Ernnestine; " have we not every reason to believe that Osmond perished with his daring associates in the flames that destroyed the castle of St. Alwyn?" " He may have escaped," retnrned Lord Raymond, " and the fear of being detected and brought to punish- ment, would have been sufficient to have induced him, if even he had no other reason, to remain lor awhile con- cealed." " Oh, no, my lord," said our heroine, " I do not think that is probable. Besides, thou sayest that this appa- rent monk hath used threats to thee, and—" " And, therefore," added Lord Raymond, " doth it render my conjecture the more likely; since Osmond made use of the same threats to me, and also to Mar- guerite, when she was in his power, as thou hast heard her say." " But why should Osmond so have threatened thee, my lord ?" asked Ernnestine, " how couldst thou, prior to the attack which thou didst make upon his retreat, have excited his vengeance ? aud if thou hadst, surely he had plenty of opportunities of putting his designs into exe- cution, so often as he hath been near thy person," " That, my love," replied St. Aswolph, " is an am- biguity which I cannot solve; but that this grey friar and the robber chief are one and the same person, is so powerfully impressed upon my mind that 1 cani. ot di- vest myself of it, some mischief it brooding, and I mu? t be watchful and wary that the machinations of the guilty do not succeed. But come, Ernnestine, let us hasten to the castle, for there may be danger in remaining where we are. I canfiot suffer thee fo return home without being attended by those whomay protect thee from any harm which might otherwise befall thee." Ernnestine who could not question the prudence of his step, suffered his lordship ( o take her arm, in si- lence( and accompanied him to the castle of St. As- wolph, frequently looking back, and expecting again to encounter the tall figure of tho mysterious grey fi iar. Lord Raymond made his mother and the Lady Mar^ guerite acquainted both with the result ofhis interview with the friends of Ernnestine, and the adventure with the mysterious monk> The first circumstance caused in their minds as much surprise and regret, as it had occa- sioned Lord Raymond and eur heroine, and they coulil not bat agree with them that there was considerable mystery attached to the conduct of Hubert Clensham, and Ranulph and his wife, and they warmly approved of the resolution which Ernnestine had come to to ques- tion the former narrowly upon the subject. The ap- pearance of the monk also caused them much astonish- ment and alaim, especially when they were told by Raymond of the former meetings he had bad wilh the same mysterious being, and the threats be bad held out to him* and they were unable to come to any satis* factory conclusion upon the subject. By the urgent persuasions of Lady Celestine and her daughter, Ernnestine was prevailed upon to remain at the castle till the morning, a domestic being despatched to the house of Hubert Clensham, to inform him of the same, and the reason; and the remainder of the evening wai passed in conversing upon the circumstanees of the day. In speaking of the former meetings which Lord Raymond had bad with the apparent monk, and the threats he had made use of to him, the agitation of the former was very evident; he frequently seemed lotaiiy abstracted from everything in deep thought, often sigbed deeply, anil appeared to be suffering from some pain- ful reminiscence recalled to his mind ; but when his mother and Lady Marguerite questioned him more closely, his emotion increased, and he begged of thent to desist, and requested of them permission to leave tbd room for a few minutes to recover himself. This only served to increase their anxiety, but seeing the emoliou it caused him, they reluctantly dropped the subject, hoping that time would unravel the mystery to theif satisfaction. In the morning, Lord Raymond, who had regained his composure, attended by several domestics, accompo* nled our heroine home, and after a short time passed in conversation with Hubert and Ernnestine, he returned to the castle. That day our heroine had resolved to question Hubert upon the subject which so completely engrossed her thoughts, and he broached it himself, by informing her of the application which Lord Raymond had made to him, and the answer he bad been com* polled to return him. " How, sir," ejaculated Ernnestine, with unfeigned surprise, and fixing upon Hubert a penetrating look, " are not Ihou and my foster parents the only protectors I have ever known; the only relatives that I have In the world? who then hath aright of disposing of my hand if thou hast not ?" Ernnestine, my dear child," said old Hubert, much agitated, " I repeat that I have iu<< the power so to do, or how willingly would I give my consent lor thee to become the bride of one so worthy of thee, as tho noble Lord Raymond St. Aswolph." " What meanest thou, my more than father I" eja- culated the astonished Ernnestine; " there is some mystery in this, which I cannot fathom." " The greatest misery is threatened to me and mine, should I do so," answered Hubert. " By whom, and from what motives? Oh, tell me, I implore thee ?" interrogated our heroine. " By one whom I know not," answered the old man, " One whom thou knowest not?" said Ernnestine, " I cannot understand thee; for heaven's sake explain thyself? this suspense is insupportable." " Ernnestine,' said Hubert, after a pause, during which he endeavoured to collect himself for the task< " I fear thy suspense will be little alleviated by that which I can reveal to thee. There is a secret connected with thee which I was enjoined not to disclose nntil thou hadst arrived at the years of maturity. That time liaih now come, and I think it my duty no longer to keep thee in ignorance ofthe extraordinary circum- stances that placed thee under my protection. Era- nestine, thou art in no way related to me, or Ranulph and his wife I" " Gracious heaven I" cried our heroine, starting from her seat in a state of the most violent emotion. " Is it possible ? Who then are my relations ?" " I know not," answered Hubert. " My parents," gasped forth the trembling maiden, " Who are they I Do they still live ? and why was I abandoned to the care of strangers?" " Calm thy agitation, Ernnestine," said Hubert Clen- sham, " and listen to the strange story I have to tell thee." " I will— I will—" hastily ejaculated our heroine, but pray be quick." Old Hubert went to the door to see that there were no listeners, and then drawing his chair closer to that of Ernnestine, detailed all the particulars with which the reader has been made acquainted at the commence- ment of this narrative. With the most breathless attention Ernnestine list- ened to this extraordinary recital, and when Hubert had come to the conclusion, she clasped her hands ve- hemently together, and raising her eyes towards heaven, stood for a few moments in speechless astonishment. " Oh, God I" she at length exclaimed, " how wonder- ful are thy ways!— but, alas! how little cause for satisfaction have I at this disclosure, since it shews to me the utter misery of my state ; deserted by my pa- rents, burthened upon the bounty of strangers, and knowing no one upon whom I have the slightest claim!" " Ernnestine, dear Ernnestine; child of my adoption," exclaimed the poor old man, pressing the weeping damsel to his heart, and the big tears rolling down his furrowed cheeks, " say not so ;— thou art still mine ;— still the child of thy foster parents, while the current of life flows within their veins." Ernaestine tried to speak, but the power of her emo- tions, the tumult of thoughts that rushed to her brain, choked her utterance, and she returned the ardent caresses of the good old man, with all the fervour that her bounding heart prompted. ( To be continued in our next.) r j. r THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLES- TOM r • THE ROYAL FAVOURITE, AM ORIGINAL ROMANCE. [ Continued from onr last.) ' A gush of tears came to his relief, and he wept like h child. Throwing himself on his miserable couch, he endeavoured to ealm his agitated mind by sleep ; but purpose of clearing myself from the imputation of heartlessness." She took the packet almost unconsciously, and glided towards the door without uttering a word. " Farewell, Jane," he added, " il may be the last time we may meet on earth. Let us not part in anger," She paused, and, turning towards him extended her hand wilh a vacant smile. He knelt and gently kissed T, " VY?: f°?„ iS ' IT*!"'- f! / J"! T ' lu laT it- it was cold as ice. He bowed ' bis heftd Upon his painful subject, and he almost w. shed that the unlooked-| brea9ti and wj( h tU1Hcu, ty he , e, tlalned ihl' tear,. When he looked up again she had disappeared, and for secret of his noble birth had never been revealed. The murder of Jacob again passed before his startled memory, and the anxiety of the stranger to possess the parcel addressed to himself now appeared more strange and unaccountable than before. Who or what he could be, thus Continually shrouded in mystery, involved Gilbert deeply in the shadowy inaaes of conjecture, and he at last fell into a broken slumber, disturbed by visions of fearful import, in which Jane, the stranger, Essex, and the Jew, were conspicuous, and he awoke several times, and looked around his gloomy prison with a searching and anxious eye, as if expecting to 1TORTURE.— THE RECOGNITION.— THE CONFESSION see ( heir embodied forms meet his bewildered gaze. The evenillg of tlle nex, da came and the 9alitude The weary night rolled slowly on, and he ha. led the „ f Gilbert's dungeon was disturbed by the entrance of approach of mom with pleasure. The same man whom a sm8, i party „ r halberdiers, the t- hiefef whom silently he had bribed to supply him with a light now brought beckoned him to follow them. He obeyed in silence, him refreshment and told him that all were too busy, and they passed into the Bonrlyard, from whence they through the previous mght , attack, lo pay any alien- proceeded 10 the Devllin Tower j and, after descend- ing to mm 01 his accomplice, as he termed the stranger, ing a steep flight of stone steps, and traveling a num- So Gilbert, on his departure, again ber of long galleries, he follnd himself at the end ofa the grating of ( he massive Balls iHat setttred his prison door sounded fearfully harsh to his ear, tie threw himself upon his pallet, and gave himself up to the most violent despair, where, at length, wretched in body and spirit, he sank into a deep sleep from actual exhaustion. CHAPTER XX. for a day or two. f Continued from our tost J In proportion to the insupportable slavery of ouf ac- ' ions and gestures, was ihe immense liberty given toou' thoughts) our eovernesses never conversed with us— we exchanged the most fairs? Ideas without the least re stritlnti Our strict fc'onf'- ttnhy ( o the regulations, wa- the guarantee ot on? Riofal perfections,- Ss otrr bags and bonnets were that of onr virtues. As t'af as I can judge, by recalling my recollections of Saint Denis, I believe that the direction of our studies was better compre- hended atrtl fllore carefully attended to; the pupil.- seriously learnt the foundation of evefy thing ( they com- municated to each other tfhat fhey feflevfr, and, as it wa » useless to be little prodigits, a young girl, on leavini Saint Dennis, after having passed through all her classes, was really tolerably well informed. They had also the good sense to forbid the pupils the plurality of accom- plishments l they comprehended that it was impossible, Usefully, to make music and drawing walk hand- in- hand on ihe same line. It requires a little love for the arts to comprehend them, and that love divided, is no longer but a taste that leads to mediocrity. It seems to me that evefythlng In education ought to have a moral end, and it is not by overloading the brain with a thousand superficial things, that we can attain the intelligence of thl soul. The history that children are learned by rote, like parrots— that which teaches you how Clodian had a fine head of hair— that Pepin was a petty usurper— that one of the Philippes de Valois' was handsome, while the other was oold, is a nomenclature as fatiguing as it Is useless; but history, thoroughly studied, Is the most philosophical of studies i it shews us kingdoms as the great theatres where ouf passions are brought into play; and, in leaching Us events, it makes us acquainted with the motives— the characters of the men who were the authors of them. It is the same with music j the science of contre- dances— of songs and ballads, may avVaken an echo of harmony in a youthful mind, bul the sublime symphonies of Beethoven— the divine thoughts of Moiart, search the tery heart, ag grandize and raise it, by the sentiment of human per- fection towards the grand divine perfection which is our God. lie turned in amazement an" d7in'the" ne « ' moment I rurIr"" r me » " S'ven hun for rejection. On a I It is said that It becomes women to be frivolous and foi^ etting all h^ foriner resolu\ i^ ! » llmm"" s the the fold, parted in superficial; I do not think so, young girls mu. Sbe taught trower f lnveWI, sT7 , he T. 1 the centr*' and ""'- V passed into a long dark stone to adorn their minds as well as they are taught to adorn Who Jl ih„ 1P L I . u ? ' chamber, dimly lighted by a single lamp suspended their persons) they must be great and noble by the dep'S 8 confidingly rested her beauteous from the midd,/ of * he ce,|{„ Xl the wall. of which were heart, that their forehead may be bright, unclouded, and i.' ij, on ins shoulder. . hung with black cloth. A deep recess at the further attract respect, that theif eyes may reflerf goodness and My dear Jane, he said, in the utmost surprise, end of the apartment contained the implements of tor- love, and everything in them tbe graceful translation of m what manner did you obtain admission to my pri- lurej and Gilber, cou| d percel? e the sh4d„ Wy figure of graceful thoughts. Above all. do not seek to change Bon and why do I see you thus ? tbe torturer flUti noi'stUs8, y about> as if it, ac, ive their primitive nature; each of our faults holds by one Gilbert I felt as if I could not live Without I saw preparation for their use. Bul this was not all: before s, de ,0 a 1ualit>: = haughtiness may become a noble pride, you, and I determined, if it was possible, lo gain my1" 1 — - — » —•>•>- - » » i » « » *>• » ' wish. I have been sorely tried since last we parted." " And you have still remained true to the humble Gilbert I" he asked in a tone of doubtful inquiry. " Can you doubt my love, Gilbert, after the many testimonies I have given you of the strength of my affection I Have I not, even now, thrown aside my maidenly modesty, and ventured boldly to thy prison ? Does this betoken an alienated affection ? Can you doubt me still ?" and she looked up in his face, her bright blue eyes beaming love and tenderness. took up the manuscript, and re- petused Ihe history of his father's wrongs, every line of which made his deter- mination t) l tearing himself away from Jane, firmer every moment. Life was becoming hateful to him, hnd he almost resolved to relinquish any attempt to obtain a restoration of his rights, and to take to him- self the punishment of the crime of whiclf lie was accused, Day after day passed on, to Gilbert's astonishment, I without anything being done lo ascertain who had been the real murderer of the Jew. He had heard of Ihe execution of the Earl of Essex, and the other conspira- tors, and the fulfilment ofthe stranger's prophecy filled him with wonder. There were several unconnected links in the stranger's conduct which he could not un- passage, across which was drawn a thick curtain of green cloth One of his conductors struck heavily with the end of his halberd agninst the celling, and, the cur- tain instantly rising, disclosed to Gilbert's astonished view a thick gaken doof closely studded with iron. This slowly Opened) artd ahother cUrlain ofthe deepest black hung ill llilck folds behind it. An inscription, in red lettetsi to the following effect, " Search well your heart; lie who enters here mustI> e prepared for death," was inscribed on its dark surface, and Gilbert, as he read the sentence, felt an awe creep Ihrough him which he could not repress. He recognised in those fearful words the intimation that he was on the threshold of the torture- room; and, though proud in the consciousness of his Innocence, still he trembled at the thought of derstand; and he was thinking deeply on these when whal'he might have to endure before he again passed he was aroused by the opening of the chamber- door, and that door a gentle voice exclaiming, " Gilbert! dear Gilbert I" | No furjher time wa. given him for reflection. On a MEMOIRS^ OF M. A D A MEL ALF A R G E. WRITTEN BY HERSELF. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH EXPRESSLY FOR MIS WORK. " Dearest girl," replied Gilbert, » my heart never | by two tai'l yeomsn." doubled thee ; it was my ardent love for ihee that con- On reaching the n a table-, at Ihe opposite side of the reom, sat Lord Stair and his under lieutenant, attended by four men, of vil- lainous and hardened aspects, who seemed by their dress to be ( he assistants of the torturer. To their right stood Archibald Crampford, the surgeon, dressed in bis official robes of black; and by his side, but con- cealed by the deep shade which the glimmering lamp caused to prevail throughout the chamber, was to be discerned the figure of the mysterious stranger, still wrapped in his capacious mantle and hood, and wearing ( he air of a resident of the other world, carefully guarded jured up those false suspicions, which thy kind wort, I co^ ucto^^ l^ d6^ atlh^ taS « ^ rt! in I WMp^' nlngl b'rVrsonsTndi'Srent to us! » b5 coquetry an amiable desire to please. Ameliorate, but if it is given you to raise those young plants, do not forget that it is criminal to bend them beneath the impure power of hypocrisy, But I have wandered a long w& y ( lam my twelve years, I forget myself in lily present old age; let die at once return to the recrillBctiohS of the past, and again become a child under the cloisters of oUr antique abbey. 1 saw my mother every Sunday during the whole time she re- mained at Paris, and those interviews were a torture to me. She never came alone to Madame de Bourgoing ; I was too proud to weep in her arms, and I always re- minded myself that by her will alone 1 had beeu exiled from all that was dear to me. We may suffer without sion ; our marriage, and rendering me as unhappy as herself rs;, k .. . . .. j •"" i oiau, « uisj « u BI mis, aim uiuiscu to issuing an oruer i pussesseu aiuniiion, au P ia r1 u Y ™ L co ™ m me 10 acc" l" the without seeing it obeyed; eitcl. imed, " If you will not unless I occupied the I ^ I^ ELESfiSu^ — « « " " » » BE * A*"-" have now allayed. ^ Eli « « beeth5, eoCutteodf humour with herself and all the 11^ SSffllf ". u"" W « l tribunal, j w be b o|/ e , tl, e slaveries of social ' life by this world, since the execution of her favoX Essei, ba, each TJ'dKri'which'" w!" JTTVrT"^]^ a,, d , m"' astic disd" li" f" a, 9s! " iy mind revolted taken an increased dislike to me from Ih. . I. nl. ,! 5 J - silence, which was at last broken hy against, n place of submitting to it, and when under the c urn " t - uic e of m v once in so ir itt ^ himwih S'" lr c<", n"""", in « , he 8tran- er ' « rem°" h » yoke, I the more comprehended tiietaide and the passion cum. uinceof my once inspir Ug him fatal pas- hood. He made no answer, nor did he obey the order, of liberty. The hotlrj dfevoted to tny lessons passed ra- herrleierminahonof pre ven ling but stood as tHollottless and unmoved a. before. Lord pidly awa^ study Was a pieasttre rathef- than toll. I Stair, enraged at this, and unused td issuing an order possessed ambition, aud was never satisfied with myself he first places iu the classes; but the had scarcely arrived before I shook ThB , i,„. i.... ... i toff my cha! a » , and somettraie* woke them. I Ju i ? , i ? P " ger Saint Denis was divided into two camps, always at and tore the cloak from off his shoulders; then, arrang- w, r wilh eacb other. „ ie Atel. palt of young ladies, ing themselves in a semicircle behind him, stood ready dauf! hters of officers of the old imperial army, venerated lo obey any further orders. Gilbert, immediately on tke idol of their fathers, and paid him a kind of worship; the removal of the hood, gased anxiously at the face of some others, emigrants' daughters, were outrageous ils owner, but the darkness of the spot on which he [ loyalists, and converted our god into an usurper stood rendered it Impossible to perceive his features, The chiefs of the opposite parties took possession of and he turned again to the lieutenant ia disappoint- the new comers, taught them tbe songs of Beranger. or inenh the liymds upon the birth of the Duke de Bordeaux. All „„,, wn„, gam s|, e t„ tn„ nearest lane v when a11 * 4s » * ain 9il9n,> tiord Stair « addressing " he little legs were in the service Of the strong heads ol " She said that my haughty and obstinate temper • Lord Walsinghaml" ejacule. ted Gilbert, in surprise. He was your father's greatest enemy. Ahd could you comply with her arbitrary demand, Jftne J' " Could the wolf mate with Ihe lamb, or the eagle wilh the dove ?" asked Jane, almost indignantly. " If so, then could t marry Walsinghain. Ne, my poor weak spirit gathered courage, and throwing myself at the feet of the queen, I implored her not to persist in persecuting me thus, for that I could not— nay, that 1 would not marry Walsinghaml" " And what said she to this, dearest Jane ?" asked Bhould soon be crushed,— that I should be glad to sue for, as a favour, that which I how so Indignantly re- fused. But the thoughts of thy love, Gilbert, bore me up, and I rose proudly from the ground, calm and collec( ed. My womanly pride was aroused, and, bow- ing coldly, I left the room and hastened to my cham- ber, from whence I was not allowed to depart I heard of your imprisonment, and of Ihe foul crime laid to your charge; but my heart could not believe you guilty, and I determined to prove my love by hastening to you at once. Gold was all- powerful, and my gaoler consented to assist me in leaving this place. Let us go of the watch who apprehended you, which, however, has not enabled us to determine who was the actual murderer. We now intend to put some questions, which, if not answered instantly, and without prevari- cation, will be forced from yon by tbe rack." " My Lord," exclaimed Gilbert, " I am ready, by all the means in my power, to clear myself of this charge ; and, by the assistance of the Almighty, so establish my innocence." " How, young man," asked Lord Stair, " came you to be in company with the stranger, and on the spot at ihe moment when the murder was committed ?'" While passing through the court of the inner Tem- pense, a piece of tri- coloured ribband, an eagle, er still better, a portrait of the little king of Rome. All that was graduated according to the services rendered. Each of the elder boarders had one or several adopted daugh- ters, a species of slaves, who sold themselves for a little protection. I did not submit to that necessity; I served and fought as a volunteer, and when I was very melan choly, I went and. seated myself at the foot of a great tree that reminded me of one of the elms at mv Villers Hellott. If I was very unreasonable, Marie Danmesiiil shared in my mad tricks, and then in the punishment incurred. We held everything in common between us; our mo- thers, when they made their visits, had permission to call HS both into the parlour together, and the same ser- mons were t » correct our mutual faults. In the evening, when every one else was at rest, we talked of absent friends— of the coming vacations— of her brother— of my sister, and Marie could no longer go to sleep without one came to visit the royal esta me some iced chesnuts. Sadly disappointed at seeing nothing very prodigious, I hoped that I should receive more gratification through my ears than 1 had dons through my eyes, and there I sat listening. She began to speak, with the most delicious voice in the world, of igriculture, speculation, the fund, of the fluctuations ill • he Exchange. 1 didn't comprehend anything, but 1 listened to those sounds as 1 would have done to enchant- ing music, and it at this day seems to me that 1 must have experienced that sweet and painful sensation that < eizes you on recognising in the prosaic measure of a country dai: Ce, tbe touching air by which Grisi had made , ou weep the evening befoie. During this mouth ot mv recovery, I was taken to the , pera, and to the Porte Saint Marten, wherelhe " petites Dana id us'' seemed to me the most diverting thing in the vorld. But what struck me above all, what made me Iuite proud, quite happy, was a children's ball at the Palais Royal. When a tall, gold- laced footman came to deliver me the princely invitation, when M. de Brack, who was at my Hunt's, declared he wouldgive me one of Victorine's com- plete dresses, I comprehended the delight of Cinderella, - tnd 1 did not envy her her godmother, less perfect than iny dear godfather. The wished- for ball day arrived; 1 was, in the first olace, obliged to endure the torture of filty papillotes that were to make my hair fri2 naturally, then I had my pretty crape frock put on me. I was certainly some- what pinched in it, hut 1 took courage on looking at my- < elf in the glass. Lastly, mf shoes, that made my feet look so ravishingly small, added their torture to all those I was already suffering to make me look lovely. We ar- rived at the moment when the Duchess de Berry was opening the ball with a quadrille; she wore a dress of white crape, trimmed with white and rose- coloured fea- thers, a wreath of the same feathers in her hair; her dress was prettier than her figure. Then I saw Mademoiselle— the great Mademoiselle— who seemed to me a pedantic princess. 1 also saw all the graceful princesses of the Orleans family, and I danced a gallopade with the Duke de Nemours. Mon- seigneur could never keep step, he trod on my feet, he had to be dragged along, and I was quite as fatigued as flattered With the high honour I had received. I was taken back to Saint Denis; my head was so full of all my pleasure, and my imagination so strongly ex- cited, that after three weeks of regrets and of dreams, I was taken dangerously ill with a brain fever, increased by _ defluxion of the chest. Word was sent to my father that there was no longer any hope of my recovery; and when my mother arrived, having travelled night and day, my complaint was at its height, and 1 had lost all consciousness of everything atoUrid me. In my delirium I called upon her; I said to her that absence from home had killed me, and that I should die through her means— through my father's lorgetfulness of his child. I remained a fortnight in that state ; my mother was so affected by it, that she resolved to withdraw me from Saint Denis, and the first word that reached my ear when I was saved, was a promise that restored me to iny life of affection and liberty. CHAPTER V. As soon as it was possible to convey me there, I found mysulf beloved, free, spoiled at Villers- Hellon, and by the prescription of M. Marjolin, it was strictly forbidden to subject riie to any sermons, lessons, or to offer me the slit! litest contradiction. What a delightful summer! Confided to the care of the old servant, my good Lalo, I passed my days in the woods ; I went to visit the worthy peasants, to carry fruit to the reapers, and exchange the white cakes of my lun- cheons for their black bread ; then when the evening came, I returned on the waggons, nestled in ihe middle of the odoriferous hay or golden sheaves, and my grand- father smiled at witnessing my rural felicity, and my mo- ther at the healthy complexioa 1 had recovered beneath the rays of the harvest sun. When autumn came, and Mr, Elmore along with it, my pleasures became sti 1 more exciting, I was permitted to learu to ride. 1 well remember my first lesson ; 1 was put Upon a pretty grey mare, and made the tour of the coutt- yard, accompanied by the recommendation, the fears, the advice of the whole household. Mr. Elmore afterwards obtained the great favour of taking me iuto the fields; he lied my liorse to his with a long rope, and said to me, " Sit fast— don't be frightened," and making the trot succeed the walk, and the gallop the trot; from a leap across a narrow ditch to a leap across a wide one. He initiated me ih all the joys of equitation, of a danger braved, of difficulties vanquished. 1 was a long time without avowing my perilous exploits* and when ihey were discovered, I was so well accustomed to them, thai though they trembled at the narrative of the past, they permitted me to avail myself of my present experience. Vlllers- Hellon was very brilliant ; we had private thea- tricals, went a gipsying in the forest. We had many visitors,— amongst others, M. de Lassussc,, post- captain he was said to be elegant in his manners, amiable, and witty; he was very good to me, and 1 was much attached ' oUgh Mr. Elmore found him odious,— 1 don't together, Gilbert, the world is large, and far away from P.' e I heard the Jew's cries for mercy and hastened lo the contaminating influence of courts, We may yet be his assistance. On reaching the spot I discovered Ihe happy, fearless of the frown of those who would mar stranger standing over him wilh a drawn dagger, which our future happiness." he plunged into his body, and then fled. 1 raised Ike She ceased ; love— ihe love of one whose very soul Jevv from ' he ground, and, while rendering him assist- of my hands in her's. seemed to live and breathe but in the smiles of him who ance, the murderer returned, apparently for the pur- When Marshal Macdonald fed it— was in her words, her looks her actions • and Pose of obtaining possession of some papers, through blishment, I was brought before him, he put twoor three Gilbert, recalled to a sense of his painful determination " hich Ihe unfortunate man lost his life. I attacked 1 » <—- — * » << —•—- by her last request, turned away his head to hide the him furiously, but ere we had scarce crossed sword tear of agony that started from his eye. She perceived ' he watch came up and apprehended us both.— 1 hav il instantly, and, taking him fondly by the hand, aske. l, spoken nothing but ( he truth 1" " Why are you thus agitated, Gilbert ? What has hap- " And I believe thee," said Lord Stair, as Gilbert pened that you turn thus silently, almost reproachfully, concluded. " This is not the first time that we have From me? This is not as was vour wont. Tou arc met; your conduct during the assault has not been not offended with me for speaking and acting thus forgotten, and 1 am persuaded lhat it is not in th) boldly? Oh! Gilbert," she added in tones of entreaty, I nature to harm a defenceless old man. Wretch!" he " speak, I implore you, and tell me what has caused this." It was some moments before Gilbert could reply, but the necessity of putting a speedy end to this painful interview recurred to his mind, aod in a faltering voice he uttered, " We must part, Jane, and for ever I ' " Part, Gilbert 1" echoed Jane, in the utmost sur- prise,—" part I and for ever f You cannot mean this I it is hut a dream, a fearful vision, which " It is no dream, Jane, but a dark reality. Not even the sliglisest ray of hope lingers in the distance, to shed ils cheering influence over our plighted love. That which once proved a bar lo our union, rank and power is now wiihin my reach; but the very possession of those baubles has rendered me miserable for life " What mean you ?" she asked, her slight form trem- bling with agitation, and clinging convulsively to his arm for support. " Can this be true ?" " It is too true, Jane," " And the once poor, but honest Gilbert," said Jane added, turning towards the stranger, who appeared totally unmoved, and regardless of all that was passing around him, " you have heard what has been said, now let us hear your answer." " All is false— totally false !" replied the stranger calmly. " Howl" exclaimed Gilbert, in surprise, " false I" " Ay, false," was the quiet reply. " Did not I hear him beg for mercy at your feet,— see you plunge your ruthless dagger into his panting bosom, and marked the crimson blood flow in torrents fiom the gaping wound, bearing with it his last breath of life. Did I not see all this, and will you still tell me that it is false— that it was not your accursed hand that robbed him of his existence I" questions to me, and without listening to my answers, he dismissed me by a tap on the cheek. Madame de Bournoing was also extremely kind to me ; she was an excellent woman, very dignified under her grand cordon of the Legion of Honour, and taking very little trouble wilh the government of the establishment confided to her. While I was at Saint Denis she lost a daughter- in- law she adored, aud all her faculties were paralysed by this affliction of the heart. 1 recollect that what pleased me above all in my visits to the superintendant, was the pos sibility of going down the wide staircases alone; of cross- ing, without being in files of two deep, the long cloisters that led from our classes to our apartments. I climbed the steps tour at a time, and then when I was sure of not being seen, 1 proceeded on, jumping and skipping, and entered the apartment, my cheeks burning, and with a breathless gravity that procured me a thousand questions, augmented hy a discourse on the decency and propriety of behaviour that ought to characterize young ladies. I also sometimes went to Mademoiselle Fleurot, who was a novice, and perfectly kind to nie ; she was an ami- able person, who was to have remained in the house as one of the head teachers, but she afterwards left, it hav- ing obtained a situation as private governess. About January I was attacked with au inflammation of You spoke of papers," said the stranger, unmoved tbe stomach, and my good aunt Garat replaced my ino- Kiu hursl nf hnnaut InHinnoli/ ii, • 11 if vnu art. lann. I . I,... U.. I..... ....... ,, f „,.. .... .1 1,.. .. » !.!,. Ul... by this burst of honest indignation ; " if you are inno cent you must have them in your possession." " I do possess them," exclaimed Gilbert, triumphant ly, forgetting in his anxiety that he had confided them almost choking herself whilst striving to conceal her to Lady Jane, emotion, " now the possessor of rank, can no longer " We would see these papers," observed the under love the simple girl who won his heart in happier lieutenant; " they serve to elucidate this mystery, and days." " Nay, Jane," he replied with warmth, " you wrong me there. If it had depended upon myself to- mor row's dawn had seen us united. But I may not wed wilh Ihe daughter of him who destr > yed my parents." " My father the destroyer of your parents. Gilbert," shrieked Jane ; " it is impossible. Did not thy father fall a victim to the villany of Essex? Did not your aching eyes behold the flames enshroud his quivering form ? How, then, could Lord Talbot be the destroyer of your father ?" " Old Philip was but my foster- father, an old retainer of Lord Talbot's, who confided me to his care when an infant. But, Jane, I cannot repeat to you that tale of misery; it has already deeply seared my heart. Take this packet, and peruse It in the quiet of your chamber It contains the melancholy history of my unfortunate may, perhaps, throw some light on the late treasonous attack." " Well thought of, Lacy," said Lord Stair, them be produced." " My lord," murmured Gilbert, in confusion, as his parting interview with Jane recurred to his mind, " 1 had forgotten ; I have parted with them since my im- prisonment." " Did 1 not say it was false ?" asked the stranger his eyes flashing in the darkness with exultation. " What subterfuge is this ?" asked Stair, sternly, "' Tis no subterfuge, my lord," returned Gilbert " What I have stated is perfectly true-" ( To be continued in our next.) As a nobleman was rcctivlng from Louis XIII. the investiture of parents; and, when you have read it, you will see the I the order of the Moly Giiast, and was saying, as is usual on that utter impossibility of our future union. It is painful, occasion, " Vomme. non mm Agn^ . I^ rd I am unworthy of the , . C ; . . r. . . .. • - honour, " I know that weil enouch' replied th ® kiug, " but I dearest Jane, to bnug before a child the crimes of ui ld not resist th. Importunity" ot my eeuslu, CardinalRlchlleu, parent, but necessity compelled me to do so for the I who bagged me to give it you." iher by her care of me and her multiplied visits.' She obtained a month's leave of absence for me, which 1 passed in her house, blessing my stomach for being inflamed so apropos just before new year's day. Every kind of pleasure was given me. M. de Brach sometimes came to take me out for the whole day. Oh ! how my heart beat as 1 jumped into his light tilbury and seated myself by his side. I accompanied him in his visits, we dined together at the caf£ Aui> Iais, and then he took me to the theatre; and I returned to my aunt's in the even- Le' ing loaded wilh bon bons, playthings, and keepsakes. I still recollect two visits I made aloug with him : the first was to M. Cuvier, we were shown into the study, where we found the great savant half asleep in his arm- chair, while a handsome young lady, hit daughter, was reading a manuscript to him. I own, to my shame, that at the end of a quarter of an hour 1 was gently yawning while listening to a conversation that must have been interest- ing, and that Mademoiselle Cuvicr was obliged, in order to keep me awake, to fake me down stairs and make me admire all the pretty little animals in her fine garden. The second visit was to Mademoiselle Mars. I had heard her so much spoken of, that I was already filled with admiration on entering her pretty little hotel, situate, I believe, in the Rue dn Mont Blanc. She was sitting in a chair, and to my surprise, sitting like any other morHl, nothing theatrical in her attitude, or tragic in her looks. She was dressed in a wide white dressing- gown— her figure net at all striking. M. de Brack told her of my curiosity; she laughed, embraced me, and gave to htm, though know why, doubtless, to be ot a different opinion to Mr, Elmore. M. de Montroud. an intimate friend of my grandfather, also came to see him during a few days; ke was very lively, very amiable; bul, unfortunately, when he opened his mouth, I was sent out of the saloon, It appeared he was playing at hide and seek with his creditors, and that his heart expanded to old recollections when Ills purse was closed against new debts. One fine morning, find- ing the time Bang heavy on his hands, he took a double- barrelled gun, and made some excellent shots from his chamber window upon our innocent ducks, allot which perished, and my grandfather, who thought the joke tiad been carried rather too far, ordered his cook to bring nothing on the table for six days but the poor defunct fowls. M. de MoUffond had to eat ducks roasted, boiled, with turnips, en salmis, in pies, till he, at length, escaped Irom his victims, I kuow not where, and he quitted Vil- lers- Hellon to go farther off to forget the creditors and the ducks. He was one day asked what he would do if he had an iucomw of five hundred thousand livres. " Do, why, by G—, 1 would get inio debt!" he replied, with the most natural air imaginable. M. de Montroud had been wilb my grandfather quite a man of fashion under the Directory ; they often used to talk together, but, so low, Icould not understand, of Ma- dames Roland, Tallien, de Genlis, and de Slael. The latter was much attached to my grandfather, and said of him that he was the wittiest of his beasts. In the mouth of November we set off for Strasbourg; it was eight iu the morning when we arrived on tbe sum- mit of the descent leading to Saverne; the warm aod purple rays of the rising sun were reflected from the cold snows of the mountains of the Black Forest. Their crests shone like pure opals upon the blue robe of ( he heavens. At their feet the vapours of tbe Rhine trembled in fantas- tic clouds, and the mysterious spire ofthe steeple of Stras- bourg was shadowed forth in its grandioso fixite upon that dissolving horizon. It seemed a new " Jacob's Ladder," joining heaven to earth, and bearing even to the feet of our heavenly Fa- ther, the cross— symbol of all sufferings, and of all hopes In the middle- ground were seen, rich fields and smiline villages; on the right, the chain of the Vosges, with its sere, ns of black fir and its gotbic ruins; at our feet, the group of Saveru, coquettishly perched on its little bill its windows sparkling in the sun rays like transparent fires in the midst ofthe verdure of its chilly ivy, and send- ing to heaven the smoke of its roofs as the capricious homage of its awaking. 1 was admiring this magnificent spectacle from the bot- tom of my soul, when I was aroused from my extacy In the near approach of an horseman, and the next moment the kiss of welcome from my father doubled my delights. I got with him upon the coach- top, and until we reached Strasbourg wt " ie effusions of our mutual affec- tion, the happ. uco, . eeting again, and the exhilarating atmosphere nf one of the finest autumnal mornings. OB my arrival I was forced to resume my studies, which had been interrupted for six months; with tbe roseate hue of health returned to the lessons and lectuies. I had a good music- master, another for the belles- lettres and history; an excellent regimental abfc£ prepared me for my first comniuniou, and a fencing- master gave me agility and strengh. My father reserved for me all the time he could from his military duties; we visited the soldiers when going through their musket exercise under the ramparts ; we rode out ou hoi sebaek, and when the rain kept us wiihin doors, we fenced together. I was not very clever in par- rying a lunge, bul I was ofteu fortunate in my attacks ; and when I was tbe vanquisher, when my foil had touched one of his buttons, that good father, proud aud joyful, would, as a reward, relate to me the history of Madame Gulllemlnot, and Madame de Bouchamp, and other heroic women. I went to pass my Sundays at Madame de T— the- intimate friend of my mother; 1 formed an acquaintance with her daughters, and we very soon became inseparable. That family was of the most amiable and most respected Strasbourg. Madame T—, still charming at forty, had, in in her youth, been excessively gay, and greatly admired. On the appearance of her first wrinkle, perhaps, as a last change, she turned quakeress ; her fine eyes had no longer any love but for heaven, yet she had still her admirers. Al. deT was a banker, neither t* ll nor short, neither thin nor fat, neither old nor young ; he had almost good sense enough, almost wit enough, almost heart enough, Madame de T ' s eldest daughter would have been pretty if her sisters bad been a little less so; her son Ferdinand was an excellent young man. My friends were two ravishing young creatures : Jenny, handsome, as we dreamt queens to be in the time when we believed they must be so, tall, genteel, with a crown of flaxen hair and black eyes; was proud, disdainful, and possessed suffi- cient originality to dispense with wit. Marie, a laughing brunette, with full blue eyes, veiled beneath a silky cur- tain of black lashes, was frankly good, coquettish, and affectionate. Our days of recreation were passed together in a small country house, a league from the town, and under the superintendence of our good Ursele. We braved the cold winter to run in tbe garden, sometimes we threw ourselves in a slight swing to the very top of the fir trees; some- times, mounted upon stilts, we would race through the snow, and ( hen, when tired ouf, would go and lie down beneath the warm breath of the fine Swiss cows that filled the sheds; there, talking over the joys of the morrow, and of the day before, even somelimes dreaming aloud of the future,— of husbands, of balls, of little babies. We also, in those moments of calm, did piecei of needlework, that we sold to our families for the profit of poor children. Antonine, still too young to be admitted into our trio, was very useful in executing our commissions, and without a murmur let herself be guided and governed by our experience; she was then a sweet, pretty, loving, charming, child— spoiled by my mother as much as I was by niy father. My mother frequently received company in the evening; but as soon as' the clock struck nine, and the doors were thrown open, we retired to finish the soiree in our cham- ber. jWy father detested to see us in the saloon like dolls, and myself 1 had a horror for those compliments, those attentions that seemed an additional service imposed upon the poor officers. , ... , I had become quite savage, not through timidity, nut through a pride that had revealed to me tbe ntfU'ty <" my twelve years, and by the habit I had of never bei. ng witli any persons but such as could love me for myself, am^*' whom, and above all, must be reckoned thesonof Gene- ral Naigre, lieutenant of infantry. When my mother went out in the evening he came to us, changed his sword for an apron, and we made admirable bon- bons, delightful parties at hide- and- seek, or blind- man's- buff; we turned everything upside down; we scaled the highest closets, or remained stifling in some imperceptible hidii.' g ' What emotion when steps drew nigh, when a breath passed along our foreheads, when au eye had fixed Itself upon our eye! What shouts, what laughter, when * harmless fall stretched the poor blind on the carpet a » lie suddenly stooped to seize his pray. What happinesj when my father, escaping from the company, returned, unperceived, to embrace us, and when the blind- man, seizing a ribbon, a handkerchief, we had fastened to that good father, cried out, " I have Marie!" and only had hold of the colonel. Oh, the dear evenings! oh the lovely days ! Almost every morning M. Neigre sent us his big dog, which deli- cately, and just between its Ijps, brought us excellent cakes, and his sapper, who came to inquire after the health of Madame Neigre ( that was Antonine), my sister, would climb en the knees of the redoubtable messenger, and would pull his beard while waiting for the possibility ot pulling the formidable moustaches of her husband ! as for me, I patted the dog, gave a glass of milk to the animal, and a glass of wine to the man! A great affliction befel Antonine and myself,> our friefid was put under arrest for a fortnight, ana l'lt tell you why. On Christinas Eve it is customary for the worthy ciiizens to hang the fowl out of their windows that they intend to have roasted for their prime dish on the' day of the great festival; the superb turkey swings heavily lit th « window of the rich shopkeeper, while the bony dnck at the casement of the poor family, is the light sport of tli « December breeze; now, that year, some evil spirit came during the night, and played the devil amongst the sacred fowls ; tliere was no claim made. The lean pullet meta- morphosed in the morning into a fat turkey, but the plump and well fed turkey changed into a half- starved duck or fowl, drew down a host of anathemas upon the head of the wicked conjuror, and as our incredulous age more easily believes in the malicious waggery of a sub- lieute- nant than in the tricks of a wicked demon, our friend was put under arrest. We thought the fortnight would never end, and to prove to our poor exile that we had not forgot him, we break- fasted upon dry bread, and afterwards sent him the pot ol preserves that had been destined for us ; then wheu we took our morning walk we chose the solitary rampart that overlooked his room, and with our arms telegraphed the regrets of our heart. All that is now far from me, and very near to me. ( To be continued in our next.') THE BEE'S INVITATION TO RAMBLE. ( Written expressly for this Journal.) Who'll ramble with me ? a wild, little bee, And join in the hum of my minstrelsy ? I'll lead thee to Eden, where " Flora" showers Her radiant treasures, of beauteous flowers; Or I'll take thee where " Pomona" outpours Her o'erflowiog horn of juiciest stores; Where, on apricots, whose colours shall vie Wllh the brightest hues of the morning sky; And on peaches, ami grapes, of deeper bloom. You shall feast— whi. j the delicate, soft perfume Of ihe " orange- flower' you shall inhale, As It floats along ou the passing gale. I'm a strange little roving wlldway bee, Do— somebody come, and wander with me;— We'll qnotf tie nectar, that's hH In the wells Ot the lily's depth's,— and in bright " blue- bells," Or, wouldst like to sip the jessamine dew? lloair, with me, I'll gather it all for you— Or, IM lead thee to beds of wild flower, where The lady butterfly spangles her hair. (' Tis a dear, bright spot J there I hum 1: As on airy w, ngs she flits, playful alon^ O, I wish some one would ramblqj And expound all the wond're Who'll come ?— and we'll hjj That comes leaping an Or lide on you " boiv'' Dissolving Its tints t Or take a " sciesta*' Sacred to love, and t Or I'll shew thee ihJ Where at night, the^ And li^ you would like t You shall dance In turn wiTlfeach ia. ly spright. And shall lead the queen to her throite- of gold, Which the " the evening primrose'' doth enfold j Perchance, she'll i^ ive us a boon of bright dreams! Gender'd and gather'd ( rem " Luna's" fair beams; Oh !— that wou'd be happy for you and for me, Then wander awhile with a whimsey bee. Wiil you roam with me— a gathering bee, Aud extract the honey from all we see; Shall we to the shady woodlands fly, While the sun in his zenith is riding high ?— Or will you ascend my favourite height, And view ih i bright world hy his floods of light ? Or will you go there when his splendid blaze. Is melting In saffron aud purple rays? I ihlnk, to go there, at even, is best, When day softens down ( with the world) to rest. I'm a flying, prying, inquisitive bee, Who'll roam, and explore gay nature with me? Come, I'll take thee where " Ceres" holds her re'gn, In broad acres of undulating grain, Where the " lark'* shall greet thee at early mora, As to matins he soars from ' midst the corn,— Or wou'dst thou be deck'd in bright gems of light ? I'll snatch tliee a pearl from the wee eye- bright,'' And take thee w here gllst'nlng jewels doth lie ; E'er " Sol" runs off with tliem up to the sky, Or wou'd you prefer to bask in a rose! ( In truth ' tis the loveliest flower that grows,) " Or nap on thj topmost branch of a pine ?*' Or nestle iu buds of sweet eglantine? Or in the rose of the " srveetliriar'' creep, And by od'rous zephyr's be lull'd to sleep f Or wilt thee repose in the myrtle flow'r? That decks fair Emmeline's nuptial bower;— I can Bhew thee the sweetest aumiy'st spot, Where flourish " heartease," and " forget me not?' ANNA, MINSTREL OF THE HEATH. The New York Mirror says, that a Yankee, down In the Bay State, has invented a kind of musical clock, and that he has It attached to a cradle hung on pivots. The pendulum rocks lh » cradle, and the musical department sings the baby to sleep. THE PFCWTVR SUNDAY TIMES AND PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. 1 4Praattu? nt0 for tfje furious. VOCAL MUSIC CONDUCIVE TO HEALTH.— It was tiie pinion of Dr. Rush that singing by young ladies, whom lie customs of society debar from many other kinds of ealthy exercise, should be cultivated not only as an ac- omplishment, but as a means of preserving health. He articnlarly insists that vocal music should never be neg- scted in the education of a young lady; and states, that > esides the salutary operation in soothing the cares of lomestic life, it has a still more direct and important fifect. " I here introduce a fact " says Dr. Rush," which las been suggested to me by my profession : that is, the xercise of the organs of the breast by singing, contri- rntes very much to defend tliem from those diseases to vhich the climate and other causes expose them. The j jermans are seldom afflicted with consumption, nor o tave I ever known more thin one case of spittiDg blood imongst them. This, 1 believe, is in part occasioned " i> y the strength which their lungs acquire by exercising 1 ; hem frequently in vocal music, which constitutes an c Kiseutial branch of their education." " The music mas- , ter of our academy," says Gardiner, " has furnished me 1 with an observation still wore in favour of this opinion. He informs me that he had Known several instances of 1 persons strongly disposed to consumption, restored to ' health by the exercise ofthe lungs in singing." In the j new establishment of infant schools for children of three or four years of age, everything is taught by the aid ol sons;. Their little lessons, their recitations, their arith- metical countings, are all chaunted ; and as they feel the importance of their own voices when joined together, they emulate each other in the power of vociferating. This exe. rcise is foued to be very beneficial to their health. Many instances have occurred of weakly chil- dren of two or three years cf age, who could scarcely support themselves, having become robust and healthy by this constant exercise ol the lungs. These results are perfectly philosophical. Singing tends to expand the chest, and thns increase the activity and powers of the vital organs. MUTUAL LOVE, ( OH VIEWING TWO YOUNO PERSONS BUILDING A CAP. O- HOUSE.) BY H, HAKDUR MAT. View ray love, our tender chancer, Bearing up the paper pll » . Now an hundred fears alarms her— Trembling, fluttering, an the while. Shortly, prettv fanny's thinking, All her w mhes will be crown'd; ra » l deceives!— the fabric sinkli g, Spreads a little ruin round. Thua fond youth, himself deluding, Building fancied joys on high ; Lo! lome sudden care intruding, All his airy prospects die. Lighter than the watery bubble, Are the transports earth can give; Ml^' d with sorrow, pain, and trouble, Ever rising while we live. SLIGHT C- IRCU, lsTANCES._ S| r Walter Scott, walking one day along the jBnks ot the Yarrow, where Mungo Park was bom, aaw the traveller throwing stonea into the water, and anxiously watch- ing t'., e bubbles that succeeded. Scott inquired the object ot Ills occupation, " I was thinking," answered Park, " how often I had *, nus tried to sound the rivers in Africa, by calculating how long a time had elapsed before the bubbles rose to the surface." It was a . light circumstance, but the traveller's safely frequently depended upon it, In a watch the mainspring form, a small portion of the works, but it repels and governs the whole. So It la In the machinery of human life: s slight circumstance Is permitted by the Divine Ruler to derange or to alter it. a giant falls by a pebble; a girl at the door of an Inn changes the fortune of an empire. If ti e H .^?, ? had btetl s'D0" er' sai( l In his ep'gra- " j; nn"' 018 condition of the world would have iT. , h,: Mahomedan. have a tradition, that when th eii K Ce, A1d , llm!"-' If in Mount 8hur. hl » pursuers were de- ceived bys. < plder's web which covered the mouth of the cave. ' 8ht hnve been a lawyer, had his friend and companion escape ^ the thunder- storm at Erfurt; Scotland had wanted her r': 1 Reformer, if tiie appeal of the preacher had not atartled him . J p of St' Ali( trew'a Castle • and if Mr. Grenvliie had not carried, In 1/ 64, his memorable resolution as to the expediency of charging " certain Stanly duties" on the plantations in America, llle western world migll'. still have bowed to the British sceptre. Cowley might nevjr have been a poet, if he had not found the Fairy Queen in t- jis mother's parlour; Ople might have perished In mute obscurity, If he had not looked over tha shoulders of hia young companion . Mark Otes, while he was drawing a butterfly ; Giotto, ° ne of the early Florentine painters, might have continued a rude shepherd boy. If a sheep drawn by him up-' tl a stone had not attracted the notice of Clmabue as he went that way.— jtsiotte Journal for September. THE PAUPER. As years roll away, the grave and the shroud, Meet the rich and the poor, the meek und the proud ; When each finds a friend in oblivion, breath. As he breathes the last secret— the secret of Death, The worm on its way fattens over the dead, Where triumph, and g'ory. and honour ia shed; Q'r Inhabits the scull in tha crumbling shell, As tilt; bee would the hive in the primrose dell ; And the lordling'a no mire when lain in the dust, " I han the pauper who lived on the humble crust. 1 am old and infirm, scarce able to speak. As I totter alorg with a tear on my cheek, To the home that was dear to nie in my youth, • Where friendship dwelt on the lipa of truth: To question the dwellers, all merry and gay, If the altar is there n here I once used to pray; I viewed but the trees I had planted of old, Theirroots were grown strom;, and their branches grown bold, And the peasant', great ere h id formed there a glade, Yea, children were playing beneath their green shade. I passed thro' the streets unnoticed, unknown j A pauper, a stranger, to each and all grown ; I paced to the spot where p;, irfh and joy Wrapped my young hssn when a darling boy. I aaw not the hoop go whistling round. The once pretty spot of the old play- ground ; The area, fte ball, the leap, and the shout, When tli- j wicket was struck, or the youth caught out. No, they were passed, and I could not tell, The altered sound of the old school bell. ^ Farther I Btrayed and viewed the old oak, Where my heightens cut with a during stroke ; But ' twas grown so high that it soemed to frown On me from ' neath its " bonnie green crown." Threescore years have passed and gone, Since my withered hand carved lhat stroke thereon 1 Till the all that's left it flourlshelh on, And will when the days of the pauper are gone. I have nothing to leave, Heath only to fear, Let it serve fur an epitaph— bitty me here. G. BAVI. KV. C WAY TO PREVENT A PIG FROM UKINO IMPOUNDED.— The r of a pig, enraged at being a second time called upon to pay " y tor its bretklrg bounds, went to the pound with and, shutting the door to prevent piggy's egress, animal until It squeaked for mercy. He then ^ hat if be ever got the pig within the pound i him." WHhln a day or two the pig ugain wardwrs at his post; but all attempts to 1 were frallless. The hayward pushed ltd, and heat the hayward by chalks. 1 attempt was madr to persuade ^ different route, by putting his , his tail from It; bat piggy ' Lth nor stratagem had the and, amidst much laugh- • Uufa r. R BIBLK. An ur. belleve^ o. tv v.- as caught, Teaching a little child ; From the same book lut'd set at nought, And the intruder smiled. How's this, my friend f in every age, Philosophers abound; Nor do we lack instructive page. Can nought but this be found ? It alter all must be confess'd, The deist then repliod ; For laws and counsel, this the beat, It ennnot he denied. If, then, the bent, here let us pause j Who but a God could send f Walk welt creation's perfect laws, And to its Author bend. SIMPLE CURE FOR CORNS.-— Obtain a No. 7, or 8, needle, insert It into the corn, as far as convenient; then place a 1 gated candle upon the floor, and your heel upon a stool, so that by an inclina- tion of the foot, you readily place the eye of the needle into the flame; hold It there, removing your foot aa the heat causes pain -> r inconvenience. Repeat the dose three or four times. The , ext morning remove with the finger- nail, the homy substance created by the frizzling process. In a few days the corn will dis, appear, THE STREAM OF LIFE. There Is a stream— a flowing stream, That hurries swiftly on; And rays of sunshine o'er It gleam, And gild it, and are gone; And roses on Its bosom sigh, And tempting sweets are Iain, And if we let them pass us by, They never come again. There is a tear— a bitter tear, That sorrow saves for those Who've apurn'd each treasure, bright and dear, That ou life's current rose. And memory brings them back a dream Of sweets that ivoo'd in vain. For them to cull from Life's bright Stream, : " But pass'd— ne'er came agaip. W. B, JOHN KETCH; OR, THE HANGMAN'S BRIDE. A LEAP FRUM TYBURN TREE. 1 ( Continued from our last.) CHAPTER V. THE KING'S BIRTHDAY. HOW OUR HERO JOHN KETCH CHANGED TTTS COAT AND HIS NAME, AND BECAMB A HIGHWAYMAN. ' Us pleasant travelling In the n'ght, Li'll- bulero, O; When the m on she is shining so lady- like LillUbu'ero, O. THUS whistled and sang with reckless plee, as with hasty step e Indented the bright green swird with hij heavy ridli g boots, ttr old acquaintance, John Ketch. " A likely and probable spot, pergad,' said hi, with a knowing nvrk, as he turned to look quiety round on the lonely and silent eath.—" Humph I Lord Egerton Oldcaitle 1. keeping the birth- ay of George the First, at the l ouse of another Whig." Here a strain of music, by distance mellowed, stole over the Hence of night from a courtly old buUdlng, with window, lit up iy festive lights, which - Too' at the he^ h's extremity. " So, ao!*' he resumed; " by the national anthem with which hey usually end their feasts, tins will soon break up,— what Is the line?'' and he drew from his pouch one of those ponderous, . olden, chased, and curiously constructed watches our grand, athers g nried In to carry. " Aha i" said the family man— the knight of tbe post— the ruf- ler— the well- dressed;— why should we pause t— the thiel ! —" ten, mly ten. I am impatient as 1 ; m poor. Why doesn't he come ? - By this footpath, if truly 1 am told, he is accustomed to ti ke Ills vay h' me to hia house near by; and I, on Ills quiet and mooniit svalk, w . uld bv liappy to steal. Where'. George ?'' thus speaking, he applie I to his llpa a small whistle, and d. twfrom it a tone more like to the note ot the shrill curlew, than that of the plaintive Philomela. " Bah !'• uttered our splenetic man of the Stt'Ord, ". George said he would batk me and be on tile lay— will ho fail me?— he never did— pshaw I he never will;" and while With himself he Was par- leying thus, a stentorian voice bri ke suddenly on his ear, at the 14 top of Its vent''— roaring oulright thickly and royally, " God • ave the King.'' Jack started— examined bis silver- mounted pop, t. lien suddenly pulling ft silken vizor, concealed before in his hat, over his faee, like a hare on her hannches, he squatted down be- neath a rising mound to wait the Intruder's coming. There were two— Master Boreas Block, and Sir Tltua Tremor; the former in a state of uproarious inebriety, and his friend In an equal one ot nervous trepidation. " In jovial song, We our hours Will prolong.'' roared the manufacturer of Blocks. " Our hours we have prolonged enough, for alas 1 toe shall never reach heme,' urged his timid companion. " I think I shall take to myself a wife,' 1 said ths reeling dolt. " You had bet ter,' 1 replied the knight. " Well, I think so, myself," answered he. " Pray whose wift shall I take i1' then tumbling doiv. i, and mistaking the emerald tinted and friendly grass in its softness for a beQ of down, ht with dranken gravity, requested Sir Titus Over his form recum. bent, to put on an extra blanket, and to carefully tuck him up " I said more than once hiw this fretk w raid terminate," ex claimed the now mortified Sir Tit. " hut you would go to sc( the troops reviewed by the great Duke of Marlborough, upoi Hampstead Heath, and upon your return you have done as . deeme-. i you would, got drunk." " Got what!'' said the other, now angrily rising and staggerini up. " Look you here,' at the same tlm; producing a bulky purs. In admirable keeping with its ouner's own obesity. " I. ook yoi here, my great little Sir Tit," said he, wilh the air of a Coriolanus casting It down, and pointing grand'ioeptouMy at it. " I'll bet yoi that purse again, t yours I walk straight in a line direct for a hun dred yards. Will Vbtl take the bet? say done." 1 faith then I will," said the cralty knight, for a bit ot a rogu was Sir Tit be It told, and not altogether averse the advantage t take over Ills wine- conquered companion. " I will accept th « bet, he exclaimed, jerking his own receptacle for cash to the ground. Done, done— agreed— done, done," said Boreas. And done say I," . aid Jaik advancing with pistol present* at both after lifting the wealth they had cast away. " Done, done, he exclaimed, at which they both turned and took to their heels t find to their cost that they both had been done, and completely st out of their money. But we digress. ' Twere as well that we shrink from all eplsodi and as night In her car was then hastening on, so let us with ot story. Tile clock of the Hollow- wav struik the hour as Barbara Allen reached the trystlugspot appointed by James Lawson. " Not here 1" she exclaimed, " not here 1 and how dark it begins to get.'' And she truly spoke, for the broad round moon had concealed her face behind a black veiling cloud, those spangles on heaven's cloak of blue had also concealed " their diminished heads,'' and tbe tirm. limit's lowering brow betokened a storm, while distantly sounded the thunder a raindrop descended upon tha maiden's up- lifted face, sheshrlnklngly started and drew her alight mantle more closely around her slender figure. " This spot is a lonesem; one," said she, and sighed, " but I am armed," and f h - drew Irom Its place of concealment a singu. larly small and well loaded pistol. " Ah! It lightens, and fearfully tio.'- And her hand clasped her eyes to shut out the forked blaze ot the storm to their sight too dazzling. Then recovering her equanimity, with maidenly pique she moaned, " How is It that he la not here .' Could the rain and the storm keep him away when It kept not me! lam slow to credit it,'* and with these words, to protect herself frun the descendingshower she crept tor immediate shelter behind a huge bnsh of united furze and broom. " I am much to be blsmid that my carriage I order. d not, after dining out, upon my return," said Lord Egerton Oldcastle, as his lordship endeavoured pedestrianly to cross the heath to Oldcastle Hall, rain- drenched to the skin of his high nobility. Who's there ?" cried a voice through the darkness, which every moment grew more dense. A frier. d," was the lord's reply. A triend," muttered Jaek. A friend," he repeated, " or ' to speak by the card,' " he more playfully said, ai the lightning lit up his face, " a friend to all honest men." " Then,' 1 said Jack, on the instant attacking him, " you are a foe to me." The pistol's barrel was pointed at Oldcastle'a heart; the purse of the lord was within a hair's breadth of the linger of Ketch, when Barbara, urged bys'm! sudden impulse, and thinking but little that the vizored ruffian could be her late roper love, raised the pistol we named belore to the level of her eye and fired. Jack started— fell back— and for once In his life felt fear, while Old- castle, taking advantage of fills, rushed hastily towards his lordly home, calling loudly for aid and assistance, followed closely at heel by the alarmed and trim'illng Barbara. " Whengh r whistled Master John, with an acrimonious grin, as he toe k up his hat, which had been struck from his head by tbe ( kin of Barbara, and inserting his firger through a perforation in its h gi steeple criwo, observed, " That bullet was not so badly almert, for peigitl 1 there's a llola in the crcwn of my hat through which I can nut my finger. A marrlan upon the girl, wh. iever she lie. Well, ihe lord has escaped ; egad ! he has much to thank her for. It's seldom, however, I must rim irk, that woman prevent mischief, though they mike it often.' And thus venting his spleen and consoling; h'mieif with an opinion so ungpllant and unjusti- fiable. our Jack regained the equanim ty ofhis Umper. " My watili has gone dewn, I've mistook the time," « a! d Jamie, approaching to where he had purposed and proposed to meet with Barbara. " I'll brandy mysalf," said Jack taking a pocket pistol from h's pouch, one charged, not Willi powder and ball, but with alcohol as strong, and he drank of It deeply. " I will brandy myself," he, said again, " to render my blood mere fierce, for somebody's nnney I'll have to- night— I will, by Heaven !" " Ah ! tweet girl, is that you!" said the laird, mistaking the footstep ot Jack for one more adored. " Who else'" in a mincing manner amwered the knave, as he cautiously closer approached to the spot where In darkness his rival had wrapped himwlf. Their hands, they aim jst encountered, stretched forth, but with different feelir gs. " Where's your hand, my sweet girl !'* . aid the laird. " Oil your throat," uttered Jack, as his rival he seised with a grasp cf iron. " What! the voice of John Ketch," said, internally, the Scot, " aud I have no aims. What— how shall I act! If I apeak in my natural tone he will know my voice, and, havinf? the man he liatea within his power, will dtsiroy ine at onoe'" When, struck by a sudden thought, he adopted the querulous voice of age, and, in a tone assumed, d- minded what Jack required. " What I have got;— your pocket- book, old boy," said the cool and flippant. John. " I then miy now got" said the laird. • To the tlevll," said Jaek. And away went the laird, but we trust not in that direction. " And now that I have this gilt, the n'ght belr. g so dork I can t count it yet," said Ja< k. endeavouring to examine the clasp- bound book by tile aid of the m sty moon. " Hush '.— hush!— that's a step,' sad Jack, as one approached. " Who's there!— who cimes!— who?- who? Another woman !' " No, I'm d— d il it is, said George, as In g irb such as roadsters w, ar, and quite a la Macheath- llke Jacks, aa ivlth lantern in hand he came fbt ward. " where- where have yon been !' enquired John. " Oh. mikli gm) w od, and see here are the chips I hive chiselled off,' said the nun ot wirtU to Ills friend of equal merit, at the same ELIZABETH. moment chinking a purse in Jack's ear, a sound to It not un- uslcal. , . , , The light and quickly George, his coadjutor, lowered the darkey down to the small poi tcullls, while Jack rifled the book of some notes of price, and a letter, which he handed to George, for that gentleman'a earnest perusal. " ' Til the hand of a woman," observed t he unsentimental gipsy; " and, doubtless, it's all about love aud the fashions, maybe oi thi, last spring; and we don't, you know, waut none of them— but VQeatree. COVENT GARDEN.— Th ® new comedy of What will the World Say? by Mr. Mark Leman, increase! in public favour, although, by- the- bye, were we to call it a five- act farce, the title would be more appropriate, for of the more sterling features that constitute a Comedy, it is entirely destitute. It abounds in laugh- able situations, equiroqnes, puns, and double enten- dres, ( some of the latter not very delicate, or credit- able to the author,) but of sterling plot, character, or originality of design, it is entirely barren. Mr. Mark Leinan utters some smart things occasionally, in hie one- act or tno- act farces, but they arc very frequently bosom friends of old acquaintances, belonging to the firm of J. Miller, T. Hood, and Co., and of these he has introduced rather a lavish sprinkling in What wilt \ the World Say ? It may, by the brilliancy of the getting up, and the richness of the acting, last a few weeks, but we cannot say that it has added anything to the re- putation, whatever it may have done to the parse of the author. The ballet of Hans of Iceland hac met with an indifferent reception. The subject is too preposter- I ou8 for any person to tolerate as a ballet. The forty | Thieves or, the Miller and his Men, would be equally as appropriate, HAYMARKET.— Holcroft's drama of Deaf and Dumb, has been revived at this theatre with much success, Madame Celeste playing the heroine. Foreign Affairs, The Hoarding School, and the other popular pieces of Ihis establishment, have also dratVn crowded audichCes QUEEN'S,— The manager of this splendid little the- atre, determined not to be behind hand with his com- petitors, has produced the drama of Giselle; or, Me Phantom Dancers of the Danube, on a scale of magni- ficence, which has drawn torrents of applause every evening since its first representation. The last new drama, called The Demon of the Storm, and Rogers's clever farce, entitled Adam Belt, have been the other entertainments, and continnc to be pre- eininently sue cessful. SADLER'S WELLS.— Mr. Almar's extraordinary and siicc « ssful drama of Jtlclc Ketch; or, a Leaf from Tyburn Tree, continues to elicit the most rapturous ap- plause from the audiehce which crowd this theatre every eveaing, and promises long to do so. Mr. T. Lee, decidedly now the first Irish comedian of the day, ! has been delighting the frequenters of this establish- I ment for the last week or two; in the popular farces of . The Omnibus and Botheration, and we were glad to see that his benefit proved a bumper, which was no more " than his original and genuine talents fully entitle him i to. 1 CITY.— Sampson Smith, the Felon- Murderer, a new drama, from the pen of Mr. C. Webb, has made a con- ; siderable hit at this theatre. It is very well got up, i and the plot, which ia a deaply- interesting one, is • forcibly brought forward by the admirable acting of | ' all parlies engaged in the piece, especially Messrs Shepherd, Dunn, Elliot, and Mrs. E. Yarnold. It e promises to have a run. Lucy Lisle is still unabated ° in its attraction. PAVILION.— Wealth and Poverty, the last new pro- duction from Mrs. Denvil's prolific and successful pen, r, is announced for performance every evening until o Christmas, which is the best proof of the extraordinary >, favourable reception it bas met with from Ibe public. Emily Fitzormond, the popular drama, founded upon Mr. Presi's original romance of that name, publishing at the office of this paper, in weekly numbers, price one penuy, and monthly parts at fourpence, increases nightly in attraction. VICTORIA.— Susan Itopley is still the great " card'' at this theatre; and notwithstanding it has been per- formed fur upwards of eighty nights, it seems destined to continue for many nights longer a favourite. Made- line; or, the Wooden Shoe Maker and his Wife, and the Poet of the Drowned, has also enlisted the favour of the audience to a considerable extent. THEATRICALS AT HERTFORD.— Richardson's Theatre, under the management of Mr. Johnson and Nelson Lee, having been for a short season performing out of their usual style, but successfnlly conducting their establish- ment on the principle of the regular theatres, and acting the legitimate drama. They have a numerous and efficient companj, aided by beautiful scenery and a splendid wardrobe; and the commodiousness of their pavilion has made quite a sensation among us, unac- customed as we have been to theatiicals on the same scale. The gentry around were liberal in their counte- nance towards the speculation. On Tuesday last the Worshipful the Mayor pntronized the entertainments, which consisted of The Castle, Law I Law! Law! Clara, or the Maid of Milan. The theatre was crowded and fashionably attended, and the performances were im- mensely applauded.— From a Correspondent. CHARADES. .. " . ^ aisna.- illvi I'm a word of flv « letter*, guess me If yeu can, And I tell yon. to start with, 1 am but a man; But often In nurseries have created great fear, And ao I am likely with compound, so queer. I'm the fourth ofa gout, and the fourth of its skin, The third of a man. and the third of a pin. Th. n If you add the tall end ofa rat, You'il find iny full « ise, without shoes or hat. And to conclude I may. without any fear, Say, I m fit for a Guardsman or Grenadier. No. 12, Colllngwood Strtef. W. M. P. II. My flrst Is strong upon the wing, For oft I've aeen him rise. And sweetest notes begin to sing, Till he has reach'd the skies. To find my second now, I ween, You surely will be able. For on most horsemen I am seen, And often In tha stable. If these two words are then combln'd. They'll name a flower that's now in bloom, Of various colours, too you'il find. That will be faded soon. Great Guildford Street. j, T, lit. I am a word of letters nine, mneh praised throughout this flltlMi, To each correspondent of THE TT MKS I render Information. Unite my whole exertions, your genius to refine, You may name a foreign title from my 2, S, 8; Invert the same with common care, it needs no hesitation— The lines will Instantly deel. re a silent salutation. My 4, 1,9,1,1a a foreign coin— my 0, 1, 5, a number; And when you do, my 2, 7, 1, yoti will lie In silent slumber. My 4, 5, S, Is an animal, domestic and well known, And my 2, 5, 9, 1, a foreigner from Britain torced to foam. | My 6, 15. Is a beverage culled by the proud Chinese, And oft when we go pleasuring our palates It does please. My 9, 1, 6, a trap will name, no magical arcanum. My 1, 6, 9,5, is all In flames, a eallld great vulcano. In ray 6, a, 9, you may define a large and useful measure, I avert the same, and It will name a fruit that yields much pleasur I could say more, but I'll give o er, lest your patience I might jad So, gentle reader, now explore the depth of my charade. Newton Heath. p. BAXTEE. IV. My first Is used as an Interjection, My. second in charity you a i* . ys will see I My third, dear friend, If you've no objection, i lie same as my first you nfay take It to be j My fourth and filth y iJu'tl find in a name, And my sixth adorns the temple of fafrie; My seventh, a measure, I'll leave you to guess. And my eighth is the same, be It more or less. Combine the whole, and a name appears. That his country snatched from chulns and tears; Enshrined In wnose hearts, hia virtues w. ll re'gn. White patriot, live, unsullied by stain— A name that has reathed the bounds of the earth, May It. lustre long brgli'. en the land of his birth. Portland Vitw. E. M. C SI- RIDDLES. I. The part of a verb, we know ' h xt its name, Read either Way, itill a'lll be the same; f And a part ofa needle, wo know that its Dine, Iltad either way. will still he the same ; j An instrument used by masons, its name, Read either way, will still be lhsame; 1 And an extraet of roses, we know lhat its name, Read either way, will still be the same ; Of female refilus. s, wc know that thetr name, " | Read eitner way, will atlll be toe same. , Take the first or the last of my first, fourth and fiflh, 1 I And both of th- ae take nf my third— I Pronounce my second aright, and you'll have Th-. second of all the wh lie word. New these letters when rightly arranged, you will see The name of an author of fame it will be. t Newcaatle- Upon Tyne. R. M. e II. y My first Is a nickname that Dillon well knows, At Donnybrook Fair my second a oft seen ; , Attach'd to his country, my whole will disclose, The foe of the Tory— the frl. nd of ihe queen. Greenwich. J, r. W. d III. : - It eoverns the tempest, in the storm may be seen. le May be viewed on the mountains, and found In the stream j It presides o'er the tower, and in the linttlements reign, And to dwell on tbe p » ges of time it doth deign. Twa « seen by the soldier at famed Waterloo, . But few ere survived. It. victory to view; ' I It may be seen in the wstcrs when riven asunder, "> May be viewed In the ightnlng, and governs the thunder, lr I To the aallor and mariuer full w. lt It is known, 1- | For without a strong tide th y never can roam; On the confines of Kgypt It still may be view'd, I And at a look on th. firmament agtln be renewed. J? I governs the tear, In pity ' tis shown, id It prei des in the grotto, and In a deity Is knewn ; ir It's found In man', wealth, and resides In hi. breath, _ It governs his Unit, and awaits him at death. IV. WM. OAKLEY. If you will take n » y first away, A female then I shall display; My second take, and you will find, A beast that's useful to mankind. Mv whole five letters doea contain, Which new, kind leader, pray explain. Staffordshire Potteries. V. HORATIO. DAY DREAMS. My meaning will money. , , T , " Read— read ! aye, and quickly,'' urged Ihe more curious Jack. George placed to th. paper the lanthorn more close, and thui commenced:—" Dear Lawaon,— I love but you— you, only you I '— and there he hesitated. " Don t atop!' said now the excited Jack. " Not stop— I must mind tha stops," replied the phlrgmatlc George, then continuing, he at once burst forth with an abrupt— " Hal ha I— why, man, It s addressed to the schoolmaster Laird,— and the wriler It comes from Is no more less than your sweetheart of olden time— sweet Barbara Allen!" A feather's blow might, at that moment, have struck the stern robber down: somewhat fell from the book he held. Not knowing file cause that prompted him, Jack eagerly took it up; and, snatch- ing ihe lanthorn from George, to examine it with more care. The rays of the light condensed gave light to a withered rose, and Jack pressed it unto his liuart: the rose he !. ad; souglit so long, and so strangely gained— the rose he had torn from his rival's breast— be- stowed as a token of love, by Barbara Allen. ( To be continued in our next.) We have waking as well as sleeping dreams ! be discovered by the following statement:— Often, when walking quietly home In the evening, after a com- fortable Bucklersbury Street dinner, strange fancies enter Into my head -. and mark me, reader, when in my sober senses, when not a thimblefull even of intoxicating drink has been swallowed to " Drive dull care away" Slowly— composedly — and musingly walking along the crowded streets, I fall into a kind of reverie, and, at one time, will fancy I am a great and first- rate singer! The continent rings with my praise. Italian and French journals are unsparing with their expressions of delight and rapture. I am a gentleman of good fortune, and for mere amusement, one even- ing, sing at a concert in a small town In France. I appeared masked, to give effect!— Notice was taken of my " beautiful voice'' in the newspapers, I was much admired. I was, ( as anyone would be,) much flattered at my reception by the public. At the earnest request of a theatrical manager, I appeared on the " re- gular boards.'' I drew " brilliant houses''—" unexampled attrac- tion''— " unexampled success*.— Curiosity wa. raped. Divine singer!— Young, apparently— Green Mask! Who Is he!— Who can he be ? My fame spread I visited the principal towns in Italy. T he money received by me for my singing. I gave to public charities. Stranger still,— cried curiosity— so rich— so generous! Young ladies couldn't sleep for thinking of the " dear creature."' Old maids and maidens of doubtful age, would willingly have laid their fortunes at my fact— encumbered, however, with thetr hands and hearts. I was a great lion— the lion of the age! Europe sounded with my praise. America satd, " he must be tarnation clever." Asia called me. from all account, the " wonder of tie age.' I am not aware what Africa thought of me! I was Eng- lish, and I may truly add, the envy and admiration of surround- ing nations " Such a great— a wonderful being— such a tusus natwiB— a shining star— a dazzling constellation, I would fancy myself to be I would uplift my voice in the thronged sheet, and warble forth melodious and sweet notes ; hut suddenly I would awaken— I would look hurriedly and blushlngly around me, and to my mortification and horror, would see the paasers- by laughing at my music, and staring at me as if they believed I had just escaped from a mad- house. I was, certainly, anything hut pleased, and could, ( and would. If I did not reflect that the consequences would be bad to myself) have pulled their noses off their ugly faces. And, behold, during my dream. I had walked two or three miles. I had threaded the bustling sheets, aud correctly winded my way home among the busy multitude. At another time, I would fancy I was a popular and renownnd orator. I was considered a crack hand at a speech. I was lauded sky high! My orations were brilliant— my language glowing— my descriptions vigorous— my style Insinuating— my manners— my actions— my deportment elegant. History— science— literature- philosophy— everything but politics. I could talk about most learnedly. I wa. quite a ram avis. Politics I avoided, because. If I had been a Whig, I would have been abused by the. Tories, and vice versa,— nor was la " peoples' " man, for I hated to bow to the Ignorant and unlearned. At another time, 1 would fancy myself a first water poet. My works were much admired ;— they possessed so much beauty— de- licate sentiment— refined feeling— so much tenderness and sim- plicity. My poems were " truly potUcaV and full of truth aDd religion. I was patronized and feasted by the great. I was courted and sought after by the would- be genteel. Again I would fancy I wa. a wealthy nobleman— splendid palace — beauteous wife— angelic children— happiness and comfort. Alas ! I would soon discover my error. I was poor, and had not even prospects of a palace. Oh, imagination played me many strange tricks. . , t , . I have fancied myself everything. I have been princes and beggars— noblemen and ploughmen— lords and crossing- sweepers. Fancy I— fancy I it Is really too bad. I do not, cannot imagine I am singular in my day dreams. Surely, I am not the only favoured mortal in this way. Favoured do I say— I doubt It. My foaming first, when tempests blow, Will toss a vessel to and froi A preposition next you'll name— Find out these parts, and join the same) A known profession then you'll view, Until 1 write again, Adieu ! W. STANLEY. RIDDLES BY J. K. PARKER. I. Without my first ( though strange to tell). No one In music can excel; My next Is form'd w Ih skill and care, Expressly for the married fair. My tout's a trinket often worn, The female person to adorn. II. Let not my whole prevail wifhln your breast, For with It you can hive no solid rest; But if you, with your pen, take off my head, My being then you have no cause to dread. A female's name wl. l then appear to view, And one, peihaps, tha-.' s near and dear to yon. ANSW; as TO MR. TILLY'S RIDDLES IN NO. 77. I. 0 Mr. Tilly, you've teld a wohd'rous tale, Surely your mau must have dwelt in a whale ! The porch would admit him Into his maw, For I myseif have passed under his jaw. II. The Power that made him bade him speak— Sueh wonders came to paas ; He was net either Jew or Greek, But a poor simple ass. ELIZABETH. PnooF OF IDIOTISM.— A country clergyman, by his dull mono- tonous discourse, set the congregation asleep, except an Idiot, who sat with open mouth listening. The parson, enraged, and thump, he ihe pulpit, exclaimed, ' What! all asleep but this poor idiot.' ' Aye.' quoth the natural, ' and If I had not beeu a poor idiot, I would have been asleep too.' A WAY TO WIPE OF'- A DEBT.— A tire happening at a public- house, on. ot' the erow. i wa, requesting one of the firemen to play against the wainscot; but being told it was in no danger, ' I am sorry for that,' said he, ' because I have a long store upon tt which 1 shall never be able to pBy.' GRATIS! GRATIS!! GRATIS!!! This week is given, with No. 235, of the pENNY SATIRIST, the FIRST NUMBER of ELIZA GRIMWOOD, A DOMESTIC LEGEND OF THE WATERLOO ROAD, A WORK OF THRILLING INTKRBSTJ Written l> y an Author of great eminence; In which are de- veloped the personal misfortunes, virtues, and vices of many in- dividuals of certain classes, ni w, and recently living in London. The Cottage Fireside, with pcace and happiness blessed— Youth and Beauty, with innocence adorned— Th « Possession of Wealth and evil- directed Passions combined— The Snares of the evil de- signer laid— The hope of the Aged broken— Virtue preserved, and virtue lost— The Destroyer triumphant, an i the Sufferer oppressed — The Poor avenged, and the Rich laid low— Criminals on the Bench, and Justice prevented— Judges in jeopardy, and truth tri- umphant— The meanest poverty and the proudest wealth— Pea- sant and Peer, Beggar and King!— All are developed In personal and faithful portraitures. And there is truth in every incident and adventure related j whether these be of lovers, marriages, seductions, desertions, batt'efield achievements, youthful indiscretions, boarding- school elopements, hot pursuits, duels, wounds, death, revenge, retalia- tion, gambling- honses, widows' tears, childrens' cries, virtuous cbaiitles, false accusations, poUoe- reports penny- a- liners, London newspapers, and fearful and mysterious crimes; whether the in- cidents relate to all, or any of these, or other circumstances not mentioned in this catalogue, the Reader will recognize them as realities, with which the Public is acquainted. There are no vulgar prejudices appealed to— nor indelicate scenes opened offensively to virtuous eyes. The whole is intended to be read by all who value the promotion of virtue, and the suppression of crime $ but whose knowledge of human nature, and the various classes of persons in London in particular, is confined to the nar- row sphere of their own observations. The Proprietors of the PENNY SATIRIST had intended to have gven also with No. 1, of ELIZA GRIMWOOD, an Em- blematical Wrapper, and a highly- finished Frontispiece Plate ; but,, in consequence of a slight indisposition of their Artist, these Embellishments were not finished in time to be published with Ho. 1; however, the purchasers of No. 2, will be presented ( Gratis) with botli Wrapper and Frontispiece. Offic*, 18, Duke- street, Lincpln's- inn- fie. Ms, London, LLOYD'S LIST OF POPULAR WORKS In Weekly Numbers at Id. and Monthly Parts at 4d„ the New and Highly Interesting Romance of KATHLEEN! OR, THE SECRET MARRIAGE. The Flr. t Number, containing Eight clo. ely- prlnted t'ages. Two iipleudid Engravings on separate paper, and a most Magnifi- cent Wrapper, presented GRATIS with No. 54 of " Ta » PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE." Now Publishing In Weekly Numbers at Id., aad Monthly Parts at 4d., EMILY FITZORMOND I OR, THE DESERTED ONE. With No. 1, presented GRATIS, Two Magnificent Plate, and a Wrapper. Now Publishing, In Numbers at One Penny, and Four- penny Monthly Parts, ERNNESTINE DE LACY! OR, THE ROBBER'S FOUNDLING. With No. 1, Is presented GRATIS, Two 8plendld Engraving* on separate paper, and a Wrapper. Price Is. 6d. t Elegantly Bonnd, containing 92 pages of closely printed letter- press, illustrated with 12 Superior Engravings, MASTER HUMPHRIES' CLOCK. BOS,'' MAKER. A MISCELLANY OP STRIKING INTEREST. Price 3s., Neatly Bound In cloth and lettered In gold, containing 39 spirited Engravings, and 202 closely printed pag. s, HAINSFORTH'S CELEBRATED ROMANCE, ENTITLED A LEGEND OF THE TOWER OF LONDON. NO sooner is a Medicine - well established in Publicr Favour than a host of Imitators atl « e, who, for the sake o » gain not only wrong the proprietor, of the Genuine Medicine, but inflict a serious injury OB the unwary purchaser of their counterfeit trash. These observations apply whh Increased effect to the medicine which Is now so well hairnai PARKS LIFE PILLS. This famous remedy has been established by undoubted prooti of Its efficacy, and by a mass of evidence and testimonial, which no other medicine ever yet called forth. These facts have had the effect of pfoduclng a v » ry large sale— n'ore th. n l. i UW boxes per week. When this large sale cane to the knowing, of some unprincipled persons, they, for the aakeot g « ' n to tl. « ms. lves, and reckless of the injury It may .1o others, are attempting w foist on the Incautious various Imitations, supported by state- ments whkll exhibit the most unblushing effrontery. In ordeT thai purchasers may be able to detect these frauds, car. must be taken to look at the Government Stamp nested round each bn*, and be sure It has the word. PARRS LIFE PJfcLS in WHITE tetters on a RED ground engraved therein, and forms part ot tbe stamp, also lhat the naffle ol Mr. Edwards, 67, St. t'. Kil s. Lor,. don. Is printed as wholesale agent on the directionswrappwl round each box. • » « Ask for Parr's Life Pills, and inquire for th. little book, con- taining the life of Old Parr, 3' i pages, wlfh engraving., also the numerous testimonials, which may be had gratis on application of all agents and respectable venders throughout the United K As a° nroof of their efficacy, the proprietors r « ,' » r to the following Extraordinary Cure of Confirmed Asthma, selected " om hundred, of a similar nature. Mrs. Joseph Simpson has been severely afflicted, for the las. OT years, with a violent cough and dlff e ilty of breathing. The afflic- tion haa been so severe that she could not fulfil her u. u. 1 domestic obligations. She took cold when only 15 years old, and the congll never left lier till she took Parr a l. lfe Pill.. She had tried almost every kind of medicine, and had taken Laudanum in large quan- tities, but nothing afforded relief. She heard ol Parr's Pills about last Christmas, and as soon a » she bad taken about half a box she found herself completelycured, and was never afflicted In the sHghtest manner during the severe weather that followed, and Is now better in health thaa she ha. ever been In her life. This cure does Indeed appear miraculous; but for the satisfac- tion of the most Incredulous, she has kindly consented to answer any Inquiries, either by personal application, or by letter, address- ed to Mrs Joseph Simpson, Church. hlll Close, Old Lenton, near Nottingham. CONSUMPTION CURED. " To the Proprietors ofParr'. lif. Pills. " Gentlemen,— I feel It a duty I owe to yon and to the Publls at large to acknowledge the astonishing beneftt I have received from taking Parr's Life Pills. I was for nearly nine ysars a Soldlef Ir, the 52nd Regiment of Foot, and was discharged In October 1839, In const quence of ill health ( being deemed consumptive), after having the best advice her Majesty's service afforded. 2 returned to my native town, feeling that my days could not be long on earth. But by what almost appear, an Interposition of Providence, my attention wa. directed to OLD PARR'S PILLB, and by taking only two 2s. 9d. boxes, I was completely cured, and am thus a living monument to the good effected by this most valuable Medicine. Within these last few days I have been on a visit to some ot my friends In a neighbouring village where I wa. told that " It was like seeing one risen from the dead, to see me walking through their streets." I have recommended them to my neighbours, and many ot them have experienced very great benefit from their use. " I am, Gentlemen, your most obedient Servant, " JOHN OSBORNE. " Witness— JAMES BUROBSS, Bookseller, & c. Hinckley." Mr. John Osborne's case was pronounced by the regimental doctors to be incurable consumption. By the aid of this wonder- ful medicine he Is now so hearty and active as to be enabled to travel on foot since the date of his recovery upward, of 1200 miles. The balsamic and lnvlgor. tting powers of this fine herbal medi- cine are wonderful; a trial of a single dose will carry conviction, that they are all that is necessary to Invigorate the feeble, restore the Invalid to health, and do good In all cases. The heads of families should always have them in the house, a. tliey may, with the greatest confidence, he resorted to at any time, or In any case. Parr's Life Pills are now, Irom their many virtues, the established Family Medicine. SONNET. To the memory of OLD PARR, written on the discovery of hi. last Will and Testament, in which is contained the method of preparing his Infallible medicine, for conquering disease, and prolonging human life. O, venerable Parr, lo, trumpet fame Again calls forth thy long- forgotten name | Mortal of many years ! how bleat the plan Thy mighty secret does reveal to man. From this auspicious hour shall evil cease. Mourning to joy shall turn,— discord to peace. Thy benign remedy to man gives power To lengthen out on earth his " lltte hour," Disease to conquer, anguish drive away. And sickly sorrow change to joyous day; Despair to banish from the dying man, A God- like gift! O do not lightly scan A boon so great, nor wisdom's purpose mar : God gave the power— his instrument was PARR. The above lines were written by a Lady near Nottingham, who had be. n rursd of a grlevlous malady by Parr's Life Pill.; grati- tude induced her to cause their insertion In the " Nottingham Review," and other newspapers. Extract from the Third Sert. s of Cures effected by this extra- ordinary medicine. SECOND LETTER PROM MR. OSBORNX. " Gentlemen,— l write to inform you that 1 have returned on foot from Liverpool, and many of my old friends here are indeed astonished at i* iy altered appearance and activity. I must also Inform you that my brother- in- law, Mr. W, J. Barres, of thia town has, through my wonderful restoration to life and sound health, made use of P. rr'. Life PiiJs, and their effects on him have, if possible, been even more miraculous than on myself. He had suffered from a most distressing asthma, cough, & t\, for above seven years, but, after using one box at 2s. 9d., is quite a new being. The mist remarka- ble part of his case is this— his finger and toe nails, which had become so diseased that they were quite unsightly, have been replaced by new and perfect ones. This has been considered by many who have visited him as a curiosity and wonder; for my part, I have ceased to wonder at uny cure effected by Oid Parr. I continue to enjoy the best of health and spirits, and am yours very respectfuMy, T JOHN OSBORNE, " Late ofher Majesty's 52ud Regiment of Foot, . " discharged incurable by the Regimental Doctors. *• Hinckley, July 27,1841." THE extraordinary demand for PARR'S LIFE PILLS has induced several shopkeepers of mean and dis- honest principles, to try to Impose on the incautious varions coun- terfeits composed of the most pernicious ingredients, merely for the sake ot reaping an extra profit, totally regardless ofthe dread- ful consequences which m'ist ensue. Observe, that each box of the genuine medicine has pasted round it the Government Stamp, in which is engraved these words, PARRS LIFE PILLS in WHITK letters on a RKD ground. none otber can be genuine. In no instance has this invaluable medicine failed to effect a perfect cure where due patience and perseverance has been exercised. LONDON Printed and Published by E. LLOYD, 231, High- street, Shoreditcb; and at ' 8, Holy well- street, Srtaud.