guXBTJSlg; OF VARIETY & The Skating Club, Kurapawlitch proceeded in a very different manner • having caused the unhappy Bosnians to be brought up, and laid at his feet one after the other, be ' blew out' their lives, aocordiag to bis caprice, by a pistol- shot, or else ' crushed ' them by a stroke of his yataghan. All the prisoners were massacred in this way, with the ex- ception of two ; to one lie gave life and liberty, in or- der that he might go and inform hie Bosnian co- reli- gionists in what manner he made use of his victory. The other was Tchemledjewitch Bey, the commander of the garrison, whose sufferings he wished to prolong, by dairying him along with him, and caused him to be bastinadoed every day, whilst lie repeated, night and day, the isan and numaz, the ordinary prayers of the Mussulmans. These numerous crimes, however, were not to re- main unpunished, and whilst the Hejducks and their chief issued from Pryzren laden with booty, and leaving traces of horror, fire, and blood everywhere throughout, their journey, the son of Tcheniledjewitgh, Beyaz Aga ( the aga blanc), when informed of the wretched fate of his father, resolved to make a desperate effort to save him. Having collected about 300 Bosnians, all Chris - tians, and equally devoted and courageous as himself, he clothed them in the peculiar costume of the Hejducks, placed himself at their head, and, under a fictitious name, marched to rejoin the Yatakis, then encamped at Scofia, and with whom the troop of Kurapawiitch was about to unite for the purpose of undertaking a com- mon expedition. It was easy for the Aga and his companions, under the disguise they hati assumed, to deceive the Yatakis, for the Bosnians being Sclavonians as well as the Hejdueks, speak the same language, and nothing is more common in times of war than to see a chief arrive with all his forces from the most distant' parts of the country, at. a spot which he knows to be the rendezvous of the combatants. The Aga was thus received at the camp of the Yatakis as a brother; and Kurapawiitch, who arrived some days afterwards, hastened to offer him his friendship. Two expeditions were then simultane- ously arranged; the Yatakis, being more numerous but less enterprising than the Hejducka, were to attack a considerable convoy at the moment when it should find itself entangled amongst the mountains in the vicinity of Scofia. Kurapawlitch, on the other hand, in order to create a diversion, and at the same time to insure a place of retreat, in case of need, was to fall a second time, like a thunderbolt, upon Pryzren, to which the Bosnian Mus- sulmans had again concentrated their forces. In order not to weaken the forces of the Yatakis, it was resolved that the newly arrived Hcjducks should jsin those of Kurapawiitch in thel* perilous enterprise. The latter, as commander- in- chief, and as being also better ac- quainted with the country, set out as a vangnard with his 200 men, being followed closely by the Aga and hig 300 companions. When within two leagues of Pryrren, Kurapawiitch halted; shortly afterwards the whole troop was reu- nited. This was on the 9th of August, on the eve ef a night which threatened to be dark and stormy ; they de- bated as to whether the attack should be made immedi- ately, but at length came to a conclusion that It would be safer and more prudent to wait until the first dawn of day. Upon this the Hejducks, who had taken their repast whilst awaiting the approach of those whom they imagined to be their comrades, imposed upon the latter the task of watching during the first hours of the night, laid down their arms by their sides, wrapped themselves up In their cloaks, and were soon fast asleep. They were soon awoke from their slumbers by the violent pressure of the Bosnians, who, yataghan in hand, forcibly held them down. A fearful straggle then ensued, in which the Bosnians only lost three of their men, whilst no less than 164 Hejducks were mas- sacred. But this did not arrest the vengeance of the white Aga, or rather that of his father, Tchemledjewitch Bey, whom it had been his object to deliver from the first. Constituting himself judge, and forming a tribu- nal composed of his son and three of the oldest amongst his companions, he caused the 36 prisoners who survived, amongst? whom was Kurapawiitch, to be tied to stakes; he then, after having fastened them with their knees on the ground, by shackles, which ren- dered the body motionless, and only left free the right arm, ordered them to cross themselves, and then causred to be shouted the hymns and prayers of the Chris- tian worship, whilst the Bosnians ran them through with their yataghans, and excited against them the rago of furious dogs, by whose teeth their flesh was torn away in bloody shreds. All the Hejducks expired under this frightful torture; Knrapawlltch alone, whom Tcheaoledjewitch untied from his stake at tbe expiration of an hour ( being de- sirous, as he said, of having him judged by Prinee Mi- losch), did not give up the ghost immediately ; but the next morning his corpse was found In the prison, wherein he had been shut up without any assistance being afforded him. A short time after these events had taken place the insurrection subsided, and tranquillity was proclaimed. Turkish courts of justice then investigated the affair, and a speeies of enquiry was instituted respecting these already notorious facts. No witness, however, ap- peared, either to depose to the horrible cruelties com- mitted by the Hejducks after the capture of Pryzren, or to give evidence of the fearful reprisals to which they had given rise. The tribunal, however, being of opinion that the e « - cessive barbarity of the tortures indicted by Tchernisdja- witch Bay were inexcusable, even by the frightful treat- ment which he had received at the hands of the Christian Hejducks, eaused him to be deposed from his offioes and dignities. This act of justice, the first, perhaps, of which there ha? been any instance under similar circumstances throughout the vast provinces of European Turkey, has created a lively sensation, and has given rise to sanguine hopes of future security amongst the numerous Christian inhabitants who are subject to the Ottoman Porte. A Fox TRAP.— A correspondent furnishes us with ti e following novel mode of catching a fox:— A farmer resid- ing near Newton Montgomeryshire, was alarmed the otter morning by a noise amongst his geese, and upoa gon g down to the yard he discovered a fox in the act of carr} - ing off a goose. Reynard was so intent in securing h s prey that he was unaware of the approach of the far me i, who took him by his neck as he was in the act of makii g off with bin burden, and iviwotflsd in Wtiutlfig him.** WwUlH JWHWi — VOL. v. — No. 17, LONDON, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 1842. VARIETIES. FIDELITY OF A DOG.— A fortnight ago we announced the melanaholy and fatal death, by'drowning, of a pas- senger on board the Helen Macgregor steam- boat, while lying at Oban, on her passage from Glasgow. No one on board knew him, nor did any of the villagers; but his funeral rites were performed by a Christian people, and the cause of misfortune roused their sympathies. They spread the mort cloth over the bier; but the tassels hung loosely— unclaimed— and told he waa far from his kinsmen. No fond relative was there to mourn the loss of a friend— no aged parent to regret his untimely fate— no orphan boy to weep for the loss of a father ; but he went not to thegraveunmourned; in addition to the general sympathy, he was followed by an unfeigned mourner— the companion of his toils— his faithful shepherd dog, who, though unaccountably absent at the fatal moment, has given evident signs of extreme attachment to his master. He howled plteously as they bore him away, and on lowering bim into the grave, he could scarcely be restrained from being buried along with him. As the fu- neral party moved slowly away, the faithful animal re- named alone— the mournful image of fidelity and attach- ment. Nor have the cold blasts of gloomy December forced him from his post; there he still remains; and his fidelity has enlisted the commiseration of the villagers who give him the necessary food ; and though the com- mon green mound alone marks the grave of the deceased, this faithful animal has supplied him with mourners, and . a monumental effigy more interesting than the most grave or pompous eulogium.— Inverness Courier. A FACETIOUS WITNESS.— In a trial at our quarter ses- sions, for stealing a watch from the bed- room of Mr. Poynter, at Willingham, the following conversation took place, on cross- examination, between the prosecutor and the counsel for the prisoner:— Where do you live ?— At Willingham; but I am not a Willingham man. What are you? An engineer; I was apprenticed to Henry Mau- deslay, partner to Sir Isambert Brunei, of Thames Tunnel notoriety. Well, what else are you?— Why, I am a gunsmith, locksmith, and bell- hanger, iron- arm and lathe- maker, edge tool- maker, watch and clock maker and repairer, mathematical instrument- maker, weighing machine, scale, and steelyard- maker, knife- maker and grinder, publican and licensed- victualler, and an old man- of- war's man, and was engaged in the glorious action be- tween tbe Shannon and the Chesapeake. In fact, I am half- brother to Caleb Quotem. Are you not a conjuror as well ?— O yes, that I am; Monsieur Testot was a fool to me; and if you are willing, I will show you one or two tricks. What can you do ?— Well, if you will allow me and not consider I am insulting, I will tell you. Oh, certainly goon 1— Tiien if you will just take off your wig, and get the gentleman next you to grease your head, 1 will swallow you whole, and then you will be no more trouble to yourself nor any one else. ( Loud laughter, in which the Court and the learned counsel joined.) You may stand down, Sir.— Cambridge Independent. APPROACHING STATE PANTOMIME AT ST. STEPHEN'S. — A new pantomime, " which has been a long time in preparation," is, in the course of a few nights, to be brought out, and to be entitled, " Harlequin Bobby Peel, or the Magic Queen and the Secret Panel," the substance of whieh is as follows:— Scene 1. The interior of an old- fashioned building, with modern alterations; seats, tables & c., set out in order. Most of the seats occupied bv jo- entlemen. Enter Harlequin, Pantaloon, and Clown. Harlequin waves his wand and pronounces some mystic words, when a secret panel, not before observed, flies open, and the Magic Queen and suite will instantly enter through the aperture, bearing a curious looking roll of paper, the contents of which are read for the benefit of t he company present, by the Magic Qutcn, though much against her wish, but she is compelled to read it, through the power of Harlequin. This ended, Harlequin again waves his wand, the Queen and suite disappear through the panel, seats are immediately ranged in front of the panel, and the harlequinade commences. COMPETITION IN THE SLOP BUSINESS.— The competi- tion in the slop business is almost ruinous to a numerous and industrious class of females at the east end of the metropolis, who managed to support themselves decently by their needle. A few years ago, when shirt making was reduced to three shillings a dozen, it was considered so low a price that it was impossible to make a bare existence at it; yet from that price it became gradually reduced, and many ofthe large Jew slopsellers at present pay but ninepence a dozen, or three farthings each shirt! — Post. RATS IN FARM BUILDINGS.— A correspondent of the Lancaster Gazette says the best plan of destroying rats is to bait traps with a little oatmeal, scented with a very little of the " Essence Oil of Rhodium." In this Oil of Rhodium lies the whole secret of rat- catching— the flavour of which is powerfully attractive to that animal. WORTH KNOWING.— The difficulty of getting horses from a stable where surrounding buildings are in a state of conflagration is well known, and that, in consequence of such difficulty arising from the animal's dread of stir- ring from the scene destruction, of many valuable horses have perished in the flames. A gentleman, whose horses had been in great peril from such a cause, having in vain tried to save them, hit upon the experiment of having them harnessed, as though they were going to their usual work, when, to his astonishment, they were led from the stable without the slightest difficulty. ROYAL DANCE OF TORCHES AT THE MARRIAGE or THE KING OP PRUSSIA.— Of all the entertainments which took place in. Berlin on the occasion of the marriage of his present Majesty, then Prince Royal, with the Princess of Bavaria, none appeared so extraordinary to foreigners as the " dance of torches" ( Fakeltanz.) It was executed after the grand marriage feast, in the following manner :— " The Royal Family, followed by all the personages who had partaken of the feast at separate tables, proceeded to the white saloon. Tbe dance was immediately opened by the Privy Councillor, Marshal of the Court, the Baron de Maltzahn, beating his baton of order. After him followed, two and two, according to seniority of rank, the privy councillors and ministers of state, bearing wax torches. The august bride and bridegroom preceded the above dancers, and walked round the saloon. The Princess Royal Stopped before the King, and making him a pro- found reverence, invited him to dance. After having danced one turn with his Majesty she danced with all the princes. The Prince Royal, in like manner, danced with the princesses. After the ball the Royal Family passed into the apartment of Frederick I., where the grand mistress, Countess of Norde, distributed the garter of the bride.' CAVANAGH, THE FASTING MAN. In the first Report of the Inspectors of Prisons is to be found a singular instance of long abstinence from food, ter- minated, however, at last by death, as Cavanagh's would have been had he carried out his system of fasting to the last extreme. Under the head of' Ipswich Borough Gaol' the following anecdote is recorded:—" There has been one death in the present year under such extraordinary cir- cumstances, that I venture to cite the case, although not immediately in connexion with the subject of the report. William Casey, a native of Ireland, was tried March 9, 1835, for the murder of his child, and was acquitted on the grsund of insanity. He then manifested a determina- tion to destroy himself, and every care was taken to preveut him. He then resolved to effect it by starvation, and re- fused all food. The first ten days he was without a drop of water. On the eleventh day he drank a quart. Then he went for several days without food, and drank a quan- tity of water again. Food in every enticing variety was placed and left before him, and carpets were laid in the approaches to his cell, in order that he might be watched. He was frequently seen to crawl out of bed and smell the food, and then return. His wife once attempted to put a strawberry into his mouth, and he would have strangled her had he not been prevented. He lired on in this way, taking nothing but water, except on one occasion, daring the last five days of his life, when he took a little rum. He died on the 1st of August. During the whole period of his confinement he always stood, and was never known to sit dowi, when not in bed. His violence was so great as to preclude the possibility of the surgeon's adminis- tering nutriment to him otherwise than by the natural channel," DEATH OF THE CELEBRATED MR. DUCROW. This admirable artist and excellent man, we regret to state, expired on January 27th, at his house, No. 19, York- road, Lambeth. The dreadful shock received by the late Mr. Ducrow, at the conflagration of the Amphitheatre, in the June of 1841, ending in the death of one of his oldest servants, and the destruction of all his theatrical property, gave a terrible shock to his then exhausted frame, that for a period reason took shelter in insanity. This malady, however, was in a great degree removed by the admirable treatment of Dr. Sutherland, and he was until last Friday in the enjoyment of comparative health, visiting the The- atres with his family, and receiving a select circle of friends in the theatrical and artistical profession. The dreadful paralytic attack he experienced on Saturday last, at once deprived him of speech, and entirely took away the use of his side, disfiguring his face in the most dreadful manner, from the effects of which he never rallied. The equestrian art has lost its ruling spirit, and the poor a generous friend. His kindness of heart will be best at- tested by the number of persons in his once numerous company, whose children were educated and taught at his expense, when no longer themselves able to do so for them. Mr. Ducrow was in his 54th year. He was mar- ried twice. By the present wife he has left two children, a boy and a girl of tender years.— Morning Advertiser. CHARADES. My first to an invading foe, Albion's sons would scorn to show, But proudly let the foeman see, They know the worth of Liberty. To many my second yield support, From poorest wretch to Queen at Court, Most in use amongst tSie fair, Tho' fancy gents them often wear. When at sea a gale does blow, My whole their merits plainly show, And sometimes thro' their aid will save, The seaman from a watery grave. My first is a preposition reckon'd, And at a ball is beard my second, My whole is either great or small, And good or bad possessed by all, Norvith, jt WHOLESALE SLAUGHTER IN BOSNIA. ( Gazette des Tribunaux.) During the reign of the ancient Sultans, and especially in those of Amurat and Bajazet, the nobility of Bosnia, in order to put an end to the extortions and the incessant vexations to which they were subjected, embraced Islamism, and from that time drew down upon themselves the hatred and contempt of the Scla- vonians professing the Catholic religion, who now looked upon the ancient chiefs, whom they had been accustomed to respect and to treat as brothers, in the light of rencgadoos! The Bosnians, on their side, taxing with injustice the Christians, who, not content with persevering in their old religion, neglected no opportunity of testifying their contempt for them, gave themselves up with ardour to the practices of the Mus- sulman religien, and soon became such fanatics in their new creed, that a proverb was made which is preserved amongst them to this day, to the effect that " at Tsura- gard ( Constantinople) there were none but Frenchified Turks; that the true Turks were only to be found in Bosnia and Antolia, and that upon them alone devolved the duty of maintaining the Ottoman Empire." Some months ago, about the 12th of April, the chief of the Hejducks, Kurapawiitch, having assembled 300 of his followers, made a sudden attack on the town of Pryzren, in which there was only a feeble garrison of 120 Bosnians, under the orders of Tchemledjwitch Bey. Surprised in the middle of the night, terrified by the suddenness of the attack, ignorant of the number of as- sailants, and having scarcely any time to prepare for defence, the Bosnians made a very feeble resistance, part of them were massacred, and the greater number were made prisoners. Kurapawiitch, after having assembled the Bosnians who had survived the assault and the capture of Pryz- ren, addressed to them bitter reproaches relative to the apostacy of their forefathers and their own ; he then intimated his commands that they should abandon their costume as Mussulman warriors, and re- clothe themselves in some dervishes' garments, which on his route he had carried away from a convent given up to plunder. He next re- assembled them in the principal mosque, and desired that, whilst in the attitude of prayers, they should perform the ceremonies, and sing the doleful description of songs by which the " howling dervishes " excite terror and fanaticism in the minds of their believers, The Bosnians refused to obey this sa- crilegious order, butj Kurapawlltch, having bestowed some vigorous blows of his yataghan on the faces of those who resisted, the singing, the cries, and the pious howllngs soon commenced. During these howlings, which were replied to by ironical shouts of laughter on the part of the Christian brigands, their chief, Kurapawiitch, muffled himself up in the venerated costume of the Effendiraus, the su- preme head of the dervishes, and advancing upon the elevated platform in the centre of the mosque, declared his intention of proceeding himself, and that without delay, to the ceremony of " healing," which usually concludes the pious and extatic exercises of the " howl- ing " dervishes. The ceremony is performed in the following man- ner :— The sick persons who are in the town or its suburbs cause themselves to be carried, however serious their disease, into the mosque. There, falling on their knees, they acquaint the Eftendimus, in a low voice, with the particulars of their malady. Tho latter, according to the nature, character, and symptoms of the disorder, blows upon the sick person, in order to drive it away, or else he places his foot upon the dlie » i « d part, In of dm to « tw « the AlwrtSwi • J. Iil. 1 ij in I No. 225. I ; i. i m! „ Who Stopp'd the Clock. WH » - ST « rl>! TaE ttOCK K PAR so J, WACKNER, the IFacker of Brighton.— Take that— and that— and that— you young rascal, for your audacious impudence, and every little scoundrel who applies such a sentence to me in the public streets. To be scoff'd at like this, by all the little blackguards in Brighton, is very aggravating.— I won't stand it, d— n me— I suppose next I shan't be able to manage other people's gifts to the poor without this annoyance. The Scriptures may say '^ Peace and good will to all MEN," but it no where mentions peace and nood will to saucy BOYS— take that— and that. 1 don't care if they " BKN^ ET niel" ( Clocks run- ning away), Go it my Pippins, there's the Reverend WACKER ofthe Parish, STRIKING the Boys again— by St. Peter's if he comes after us he'll be sure to STOP US. " Oh, dear me! what a shame it is to allow these nasty fellows to come upon the Ice at all. It is impossible to have a Select Skating Party in public without this sort of annoyance." " Annoyance, ycr perfumed varmint— what d'yer mean '. I thinks as how you aud yer Scented Gang is the annoyance. An't we as much light to Skait iu the Park as your Straight- toed Kiddies? This is what we calls ' going along,' and no mistake." " I say, Mike, don't you think as how we cut as nice a Fig ure out on the Ice as them ere Pinks ?, Since they have had their place swept for themselves, we'll jest drive ' em to some other part of the Ice, and keep this for the day. Go it, my Buffer !" Cleaves g a z e t t e of variety, THE GOLD CROSS. IMITATED FROM THE FRENCH.' ' Not yet twelve 1 is it possible ?' exclaimed Catharine, a somewhat stout and sun- burned, but handsome and intelligent peasant girl of B , a small village in the department of Indre et Loire, ( anciently Touraine.) ' Il is full two hours since Maurice went te the Marie, the tirade must be over by this time.' ' O no! it is not,' replied the person to whom she spoke, and who had just entered the cottage— a girl some two years her junior, slight and pretty, whose eyes were red with weeping. ' As I passed the Mairie just now, the porter told me the drawing for the conscription was still going on ; and il then wanted a quarter to noon by the town clock. Oh! Catherine, what will become of you— of me, if Maurice gets a bad number V ' Think not of such a thing, Louise,' answered Ca- therine. ' No, no; my heart tells me that Maurice will not be taken from us— from the orphan sister, whose only protector he is— from his promised bride! Cheer up, dear Louise, and let us hope the best.' Catherine Bertrand, whom we have thus introduced to the reader's notice, had been, along with her brother Maurice, left orphans at the respective ages of twelve and thirteen. They had no relations living, but their parents had bequeathed them a small farm and snug cottage, in which they had continued to live, to the surprise of the whole village, who had believed two children incapable of managing their own affairs, and whose wise men had strongly advised Maurice to place his sister en pension with a respectable family, to let the house and farm for some years, and either to learn some trade, or hire with a neighbouring farmer,. where he might acquire some in- sight into country business. Maurioe. however, had been deeply impressed by the solemnity with which his dying father had commended his young sister to his watchful care, and felt that he would not be discharging that trust if he committed her to the cliargc of strangers. Ca- therine was likewise unwilling to be separated from him; so, as Bazile Ledru, an intelligent labourer who had lived many years with his father, and Manon, his respectable wife, were willing to umain with the children of their departed master and mistress, Maurice determined on continuing matters as they had been in the lifetime of his parents. Under the direction ef Bazile, he conducted the management of the farm, while Manon presided over the dairy, the poultry yard, and the whole menage. In these cares she was assisted by Catherine, but Maurice would not allow his sister lo devote her whole time to these employments. Every day after breakfast he con- ducted her to the village school, every afternoon came to fetch her home. Tn the long winter evenings she in her turn assisted him in mastering the rudiments of writing and arithmetic, and in improving bimself ih reading, and while she herself was pronounced the best scholar the village seminary had produced, she succeeded in making bim a very tolerable proficient in those branches of know- ledge. Thus these two youifg creatures grew up toge- ther, each feeling for the other an affection passing the ordinary love of brother and sister. They were both sen- sible and amiable, but Catherine possessed a constancy of disposition, a rectitude of principle, and a strength of mind not often to be met with. She was the least selfish of human beings ; her brother's happiness, her brother's comfort, were her first considerations; her own she looked on as the necessary consequence of his. For the last two years, ( since the death of the good Manoti) she had managed alone the household affairs, which under her direction had prospered beyond all former experience. Indefatigable at work, she enjoyed all innocent recreations with the zest which previous occupation gives to the sim- plest pleasures. She sang sweetly, and in the Sunday evening dances ou the village green, uo one surpassed her. It is not to be supposed that, uniting as she did to her other attractions a tolerable portion, and a considera- ble 6hare of beauty, she had attained the age of nineteen, without having had numerous admirers, and several offers of marriage. No one, however, had succeeded in touch- ing her heart, aud she frankly and gratefully rejected them all. Her brother had shown himself more suscepti- ble | he had become enamoured of the fair Louise Lizier, A portionless orphan, and rather an unwelcome addition to the large family of her uncle, Pierre Torchelet, the miller of B—. His affection was returned by Louise, and warmly encouraged by Catherine, who, well ac- quainted with the amiable disposition of the gentle girl, her favourite school- fellow, foresaw nothing but happi- ness to her brother in a union with her, and accordingly smoothed every difficulty, removed every obstacle, until at tbe moment we have presented them to the reader, all had beeu favourably arranged, and the marriage of Mau- rice and Louise fixed to take place on the first Sunday of the ensuing month. The period of our tale is the reign of Napoleon, just when his star began to wane, and when a busy note of preparation was sounded for the disastrous campaign of Russia. To complete the army destined for this expedition a new levy by the conscription was neces- sary, and when our story opens, was taking place, much to the discontent of the Emperor's good subjects, but of none more than of the inhabitants of B in general, and of Catherine and Louise in particular. To support the drooping spirits of Louise, the former affected a secu- rity she did not feel, for, remembering that Maurice had drawn a lucky lot on a former occasion, she scarcely dared hope that he would be equally fortunate now. All sus- pense was soon at an end, for old Bazile Ledru, who had that morning accompanied Maurice to the Mairie, now entered, and his tardy step and gloomy countenance suffi- ciently spoke him Jthe bearer of ill news. ' He is lost!' exclaimed poor Louise, who had hitherto unconsciously cherished hope, and fainted in the arms of the stronger- minded, though not less deeply afflicted Catherine. The latter, assisted by Bazile, had just succeeded in restoring her to consciousness, when Maurice entered the room. We shall not attempt to describe the meeting ; suffice it to say, poor Maurice had need of all his manhood, all his honest pride, to koep up the least appearance of calmness. While Louise gave way to vehement lamentations, but one object engrossed the thoughts of Catherine. ' Is there no remedy ?' she eagerly asked of her bro- ther, * no way for you to avoid going ?' ' Alas, no, my dear Catherine!' said Maurice mourn- fully, * my fate is fixed. 1 must make the best of it. Why, after all, am I worse off than any other soldier ?' and he tried to smile, but miserable was the attempt. ' But there is a way!' cried Catherine eagerly, ' last year old Rickelle's son procured a substitute!' • Ah ! my sister,' interrupted Maurice, * old Richelle has money to pay substitutes, while I— I have none.' And he looked around at the comfortable but homely cottage, the additional furniture for which, on the occasion of his approaching marriage, had absorbed all his little savings. ' I have money," cried Catherine, ' five hundred francs. 1 ( She had destined them for the purchase of two milch cows, a wedding gift for Louise.) ' My poor Catherine,' said Maurice, ' a hundred Napo- leons would net now procure a substitute. All dread tbe snows of Russia.' ' And you must go to that dreadful country 1' cried Louise, passionately weeping, and hiding her face upon Maurice's shoulder. ' Alas!' said Bazile, ' I never grieved for my lost youth before. Even though I am fifty- eight years old, if it were not for this confounded rheumatism, they might have taken me as your substitute.' * O that X were a man!' exclaimed Catherine vehe- mently. A slight tap at the half open door interrupted her, and a moustachioed and most warlike sergeant of dragoons appeared. ' I have the honour to salute the company,' he said, touching his cap with as much courtesy as if, instead of one of Napoleons's ' vielles moustaches' he had been a court- bred voltigeur de Louis Quatorze—' and, in particular, ma'mselte, who honours us poor devils of men by wishing to belong to our corps 1 Sucre mille canons .' a regiment like her would be irresistible 1' ' Give yourself the trouble of taking a chair, sergeant,' said Maurioo, ' Sister, this i » sergeant Anstorlit?, jr. whose regiment and company I am'to have the honour to serve,' ' For the honour, oui— butas to the pleasure— ah ! bah !' muttered old Bazile, that's neither here nor there.' ' Mr. Sergeant,' said Catherine, as the veteran, ( for such he was, though under forty years of age, having served throughout all Napoleon's campaigns,) removing his cap, drew a chair and seated himself,' when is my brother to be taken from us?' while the eyes of Louise eagerly asked the same question. ' Why, ma'mselle,' replied the sergeant, after glancing at Maurice to see if he might tell the truth, ' my good comrade here will doubtless have some little preparation to make, so 1 won't hurry him too mueh, and if he will be ready to march- at dawn to- morrow .' * Only till to- morrow's dawn!' exclaimed poor Louise, sinking back into a chair, and redoubling her tears, while Maurice, with many a whispered endearment, vainly strove to console her. * And my brother is to be torn from me— from liis pro- mised bride— from his home— from his property, perhaps for ever, without eves onfe moment's delay, without al- lowing us time to try for a substitute,' said Catherine, ' is this fair, is this just, Mr. Sergeant? It is cruel of the Emperor to treat his poor subjects thus !' ' Gently, gently, ma'mselle,' said the sergeant, ' say what you like of me ; but the Emperor— ah! tonnerre du diable ! I can't allow you to talk treason against him, and besides, my dear demoiselle, do be reasonable ; if our little corporal were to wait as long as it suited the convenience of each of his conscripts, by my word he might go whistle for soldiers.' * To morrow, at dawn to morrow!' repeated poor Ca- therine, on whose ear , the words of the veteran fell un- heeded, ' where shall I fo seek for a substitute ' You may save yourself the trouble,' said the sergeant, ' every man in the village who escaped the tirage, is too glad to get off, to be tempted even by your prayers, my fair damsel. Cowardly fellows, they do not deserve the honour of serving our glorious Emperor!' ' Oh,' cried Catherine, if any one would go in Maurice's place, he should have my ptayers, my blessing, my whole heart! Aye, were he the meanest, the most hideous of men, for his sake I would live single till the war was over; and then I would make him the most devoted, the most, affectionate of wives 1' * Bravely spoken, my noble girl,' said Austerlitz,' and by my word, even if he had lost leg and arm in winning you, he would be a lucky dog. t am almost sorry t can- not throw for the prize myself.' The weeping Catherine had meantime flung herself ir, tocher brother's arms, now feeling for the first time that all hope was gone. At this moment, the door, which the sergeant had left unclosed, was gently pushed open, and the good cure of the village entered. He had known Maurice and his sister from their infancy, and loved them as his children. The moment he heard of Maurice's ill- fortune, he hastened to offer his consolations. At his entrance the sergeant rose, and telling Maurice that he would call for him at day- break, took a friendly leave of the whole party, muttering; to himself as he left the house —' I pity the pretty bride, but the spirited sister is a girl after my own heart,' After some conversation, in Which the good cure, sin- cerely sympathising in their sorrow, endeavoured to impress all three with the necessity of submitting to the will of God, and of trusting implicitly in that Almighty Father, who saw what was best, and would decree accor- dingly ; he left them, with a promise to return in the evening, and join with them in prayer. As be was going out, be turned and said, ' I had nearly forgotten to tell you, Maurice, that there was a suspicious looking person standing close to your door as I came up to the house. He started when I approached, and retreated hastily. I could not see his face, but he certainly was a stranger. You should take care to leave your sister in some respec- table protection ; it would not do if strangers were to be coming about the house in your absence. However, we can talk the matter over this evening.' Maurice and his sister paid but little heed to the good man's well meant warning. There was much to be done, and but litUe time in which to do it. Catherine felt it was not now a fitting time for the indulgence of sorrow. She dried her eyes, repressed her sobs, nay, even endea- voured to cheer Louise with hopes of Maurice's speedy return, covered with honours. This, however, was too great an effort; so, suddenly ceasing to speak, she busied herself in making every necessary preparation for her bro- ther's departure. It was arranged that Louise should take up her abode with Catherine ; and, notwithstanding the cure's hint, they considered that old Bazile would be quite a sufficient protection for the two young women. In tbe course of the day, various neighbours and acquaintances poured in to offer their condolence. The miller and his wife, fearing that Louise would still be a burden to them, were among the earliest of these visitors, but their anxiety was speedily relieved by finding that she was to have a home with Catherine ; and, loudly declaring their appro- bation of such an arrangement, they took their leave with the rest of the neighbours. The hour of dinner had passed unheeded by the melancholy party, but as the shades of evening githered around, Catherine, having completed ber packing, prepared supper, carefully select- ing such little dainties as she thought might tempt her brother to eat. The three sat down together, ( for Bazile, on some slight pretext, had gone into the village, in order to leave his young friends to themselves in the last sad moments,) they spoke on many subjects, but never al- luded to what all were thinking of. A sudden knocking at the door startled them, as if it had been something extraordrnary. ' It must be M. le Cure,' said Catherine, as she rose to open the door; but no, it was sergeant Austerlitz. Louise clung close to Maurice, and Catherine turned pale at the unexpected sight. ' Pardon, ma'mselle,' said tlie sergeant, holding a paper towards her,' but a change has taken place ' • No, no,' wildly cried Catherine, pushing back his hand, ' no change; you said he was not to go till the morning. There can be, there shall he no change.' • O very well, ma'niselle,' said the sergeant, returning the paper to his pocket with an air of quiet humour which astonished Maurice,' if you insist that there shall be no change, I shall take back this discharge, and inform the person who has volunteered as your brother's substitute, that his services are rejected.' ' What!' exclaimed Catherine, while Maurice and Louise stood speechless; ' for heaven's sake what do you mean V ' Just what I say,' replied Austerlitz,' a strapping young fellow has offered himself in your brother's place, has been approved of, and here is M. Maurice Bertrand's dis charge, if he choose to accept of it.' It is scarcely necessary to say what was Maurice's an- swer, nor to describe the instantaneous change from de- spair to joy in the so lately wretched party. Bazile, who now entered, and the cure, who shortly after followed, joined heartily in their transports, and even the sergeant confessed that for once he was glad the Emperor had lost a stout recruit. ' But then, to be sure,' continued he,' he has gotten as good in your place. Our new foundling is a tall fellow, too.' ' You remind me,' said Maurice,' of inquiring who has without fee or reward offered in my place ? Is he a na- tive of this place— a friend V ' That is just what I cannot tell you,' said the sergeant, ' all that I can say is, that he is a tall young fellow, mueh muffled, and that he gave me this billet for ma'mselle, requesting me to bring him an answer,' and he handed as he spoke a letter to Catherine. She took it with much emotion, which increased as she read what follows, writ- ten in a plain, bold hand :— ' Mademoiselle, ' A stranger, without friends, and possessed of but a trifling sum of money, I arrived this day in your village. I paused to rest beneath the tree which over- shadows your dwelling. The door was partly open. I overheard your conversation with the sergeant. I even saw you, as you, in your sisterly love, declared you would besfow yourself on any on » who would take y « \ u brothf r's place. I have no ties,— no one to weep for me, should fall. I determined to offer myself as his substitute accept your promise, if you are still willing to abide by it; but should you repent words spoken in a moment off enthusiasm, let them be forgotten for ever! Should you still continue of the same mind, send me the gold cross you wear at your neck ; it shall never leave me but with life.' * I do continue of the same mind,' said she, as she con- cluded it, and taking the gold cross from her neck, she put it into the sergeant's hand. ' Carry this to your vo- lunteer,' she said, • and tell him that Catherine Bertrand is his in life and death, as long as he does not send it back to her.' ' Good heavens I Catherine,' said Maurice, * what do you mean ?' ' To keep my promise,' said she, and putting the letter into his hand, begged him to read it aloud. When he had done so, the cure remarked: ' It must be the same young man whom I observed as f was coming here, and of whom I warned you. Take care, my daughter, that you are not rashly pledging yourself to a man of desperate character/ — « « 1 -— ( To be Concluded in our next.) NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS. Hnilifj ( Newbury).— An answer next week. C. S. is assured that we shall invariably deal frankly and justly by his communications. W. SPRY ( Devon).— Accepted. C. M. A. ( Moorgate).— We have not space this week to to htiticc— bilt Will ih onr next— seriatim, the friendly expressed suggestions and admonitions Of this gentle- man. In the meantime C. M. A. will perhaps state explicitly in what respect he deems our last week's • Notices to Correspondents ' as < rather equivocal.' C. S. SECUNDUS favours us with lines descriptive of a marriage feast-^ not that of Cana. , We can only Insert thus much of the banquet— ' At the top was a roast leg of mutton quite cold, At the bottom roast pork and two duck nine years old. On one side were rump steaks In a fiery large dish. On the other side were herrings and all kinds of small fish. And here and there plates of potatoes and greens, With six pots of porter and lots of Freneh beans.' Who will now gainsay that ' enough is as good as a feast'— in poetry at least ? O. LUSHINGTON ( Tunbridge Wells).— Accepted. J. R. KELSEY.— The Temperance Anthem will appear in the ' Circular.' J. P. ( Wolverhampton).— The occasion of the delay re- ferred to was explained a week or two back in the GAZETTE. Th ® promise then given will be shortly redeemed. J. C.— The incident recited may be ' founded on fact,' but is not very remarkable in itself; besides, the style of narrative is extremely common- place. Hop- ing, therefore, to retain J. C. as ' a constant reader,' we cannot accept his ' first attempt' as a writer for the GAZETTE. D. H. BRAYE ( Leeds).— The trifle sent is creditably imagined, but so incorrectly expressed as to require considerable improvement previous to its appearance. It is really lamentable to find a naturally acute mind, such as D. H. B. evidently possesses, so utterly ignorant of the rudiments of grammar. E. H S. ( New Road).— This gent has yet to learn how properly to express indignant feelings in adequate terms. Mere ' high- flown' rhapsodies are signs of feebleness in a writer, and consequently mar the force of observations excellent in themselves. We advise E. H. S. to procure Mr. Brennan's admirable little treatise on composition— recentlyreviewed in the GAZETTE— and by attending to the instructions there given, he will easily cure himself of any present faults of composition. A READER ( Tavistock) propounds to us this Conun- drum : * Why is Father Mathew like a certain trades- man who profits by the necessities of others ?' Per- haps some of our ingenious juvenile readers will sup- ply the response. OSMOND ( Leeds).— This correspondent announces him- self a ' Constant Contributor' to the GAZETTE, but really we have no recollection of him as such. At any rate, if ' OSMOND ' has been, under some other signature, ' a Constant Contributor' to our columns, his present favour evidences a marked deterioration from what we deem an acceptable standard of composition. In fact,' Manech and Marie,' though ' written expressly for CLEAVE'S GAZETTE,' cannot appear therein. Nor da we feel justified in giving ' Osmond' the confiden- tial information requested by him. G. HINDSEY ( Eccles) If we can spare time to correct the manifest imperfections in this gentleman's verses, we will give them place in ' The English Chartist Circular.' This must not, however, be con- strued into a pledge. J. W. R. ( Hull).— As translations by rather a juvenile classic, such as we should imagine our correspondent to be, the pieces sent have merit; but so many poets of the highest order have given versions of the same subjects, that we must decline, with thanks, those before us. CORRECTION.— In the GAZETTE of last week there ap- peared a portion only of an anecdote headed' Bra- ham's Death of Nelson and Lady Hamilton.' This error was occasioned by the printer having, whilst ' making up' the paper, inadvertently used thus much incomplete ' overset matter.' The blunder, however, was confined to the earlier impressions, anothei para- graph being subsequently inserted. In the Answers to Correspondents ' fraternity' appears for ' paternity of a piece.' OLEATE'S GAZETTE OF VARIETY. THE NEW TALES OF A CLOCK- A church- rate having been refused at Brighton, the clock ( St. Peter's) struck for wages, that is to say, it did not strike, for without a rate it would not go at any rate. The clock would not stand the con- duct of the parish, so it stood— stood, its ground, to borrow Lover's beautiful simile—" like a bull in the pound." This recusancy of the clock appears to have produced a lively impression on the minds of the idle and ragged boys of Brighton, and to have stirred up speculations about cause and effect, which brought them to the conclusion that the clock had stopped, not for want of a rate, but for want of being wound up, which, taking clocks as clocks are generally, is certainlly a sufficient reason. But once set idle boys thinking, and where is it to stop? They say they had but one link in the chain of causation— the clock had stopped because it was not wound up to go, but who bad caused the winding of it up to be discontinued ? The question of authority once raised, all presump- tions led directly to the Vicar. The very hands of the clock pointed at him— at one it had stopped, and at the man for number one it had levelled its re- proachful index. The silence of the clock denounced him, and every hour when the clock did not strike, the folks of Brighton, and especially that most specula- tive part of the population, the idle dirty boys, thought of the refused rate, the Vicar, and the not wind- ing up. It came to pass, then, that as the good man, Mr, Ws § ner, went to sw! fffl in the tfwi, tbe pry arose and followed him—" Who stopped the clock?" A little boy seven years of age shot otft his tongue at the Reverend Vicar with that pert inquiry. The good man, upon this provocation, felt ill a very different case from the clock; lie felt wound up, aud wound up to strike for self .' and clock. Whip in hand, he prrsued the offender, the urchin fled up an alley, the holy man girded up his loins and raced after him, the child took refuge in his mother's home, and locked the door against his pursuer. The meek pastor in a trice broke in, and belaboured the brat about the head and face with his horsewhip. " A living sermon of the truths he taught," He illustrated with exemplary spirit and most edify- ing vigour the maxim of the wisest of men, that he who loveth the child spareth not the rod. It was well that he did fiot kill him with such kindness. We cannot exactly say, in the words of the great poet, in the character of the Good Parson, " Mild was his accent," but the remainder of the line is strictly applicable, " and his actions free," namely, wielding the whip. The next lines, too, do not quite fit— " With innocence innate his tongue was arm'd, Though harsh the precept, yet the people charm'd." Instead of the tongue armed with eloquence innate the holy man's right hand was armed with a supple horsewhip, and though harsh the precept, the people were by no means eharmed with it. " For, letting down the golden chain from high, He drew his audience upward to the sky." Not quite so, for letting down the sting whip from high 011 the small child, he drew his audience to the Police Court, where let us see what happened.— Examiner. SIGHTS OF BOOKS. Druids' Quarterly Magazine, and Literary Jour- nal. London : Elliott. The high merits of tbe current number ( recently published) of this cheap and really excellent periodi- cal, are certainly calculated to induce a feeling of regret on the part of its subscribers that it does not appear at shorter intervals of time. It contains much curious information on the Localities of Ancient and Modern Druidism, which must prove extremely inte- resting to the " Order," together with a number of articles which richly deserve the reward of general encouragement. The Journey Book of England— Part I. Berk- shire. London. Charles Knight. Notwithstanding its physical and great political disadvantages, yet does the Englishman love his country. Feeling that love exists do we look forward with a firm faith to the happy time, when, united with a widely spread intelligence, it shall be the means of rendering England truly " great, glorious, and free." As in some respects connected wilh this love and conducive to its desires, we view with un- feigned satisfaction the first of a series of volumes, setting forth in a most lucid manner the topography and other particulars of the various English counties. Professing to be a " Journey- Book," and possessing in a superior decree all its requisites, it yet takes a higher ground of unity and utility than has scarcely ever before been attempted. Unquestionably, should it but keep its budding promise, this work will be- come of great national importance, as one of ready reference, elegance, and comprehensiveness. The portion before us consists of a complete epi- tome of Berkshire— its history, agriculture, popula- tion, civil, ecclesiastical, and political divisions— in short, every detail that can possibly add interest or requisite information. The illustrations partake of the same merits as the other matter contained in the volume. There are twenty- three engravings on wood, of the utmost excellence, together with an illuminated map of the county on a novel plan, whereby the greatest amount of clearness and correctness is ob- tained. To the traveller for business, health, pleasure, or general knowledge, such a production must be in- valuable. Passengers of all descriptions— by railway, carriage, or other medium, down to the pedestrian, must all acknowledge its advantages; and as we have before hinted, these advantages will ultimately be of a still less confined description. The guide to Windsor— its castle and contents, and the surrounding beautiful country, is all that can possibly be desired ; every object worthy of attention is here faithfully recorded. Other places of impor- tance have likewise their full share in the " Guide " before us; not the least of which is Reading— quiet, cleanly Reading, with its old ruined Abbey, by turns monastery, palace, seat of government, and fortress — for it has been all these— is here revealed in all its picturesque to us. We have stood amid its shattered but still massive walls, contemplating that scene of all the past, and felt how eloquently, though silently, it told of mighty revulsions. There dwelt the mitred abbot, when ignorance and mistaken enthusiasm swelled his temporal importance to infamous splen- dour ; there the cowardly tyrant John met his en- raged barons; there struggled monarchs and parlia- ments, cavaliers and roundheads; and now among its worn fragments rises a more humble building, devoted, as of old, to the papal creed, and an erection for the bitter expiation of crime— the county gaol. Looking thence a few yards we see the school in which a Talfourd's mind imbibed its classical nutri- ment ; and over the green " Forbery " we behold the wonder of modern science— a railway— and a pleasant valley through which the Thames " windeth in its own sweet will." Many such pictures are contained in this first " Journey Book of England," which we sincerely recommend as worthy of attention; receiving which, we have no fear— in the hands of a publisher who has done so much for literature as Mr. Knight— that this enterprise will arrive at a due completion, with all the success that it so fully deserves. from their names the obnoxious prefix. In other words, that perchance some Non- E- lectors might, by adopting proper legal measures, become legally privileged, and " as good as their betters." We say perchance, for, after all, ihe Electoral Roll i3 a mere game of chances; for such is the " glorious uncer- tainty of the Law," that what is Jaw iu one locality may be none in another, according to the conflicting absurdities, alias " decisions," of the several briefless and half- fledged revising barristers. We quote the following from Mr. Huggett's fourpenny " Guide to the Franchise," as particularly interesting to the most numerous portion of the inhabitants of our towns:— LODGERS, AND COMPOUND- RATJS PAYERS. It has been decided that a room is a building of the same nature as a warehouse, counting- house, or shop. Every lodger whose premises are worth lOi. a year is therefore entitled to a vote; some barristers howsver have not gone this length, but have decided that persons although lodgers, who use a part of their premises ( even an attic, kitchen, or cellar) as a shop, workshop, ware- house, store- room or counting- house, if worth four shil- lings a week, or lOi. a year, are entitled to vote. Any lodger who pays this amount of rent has also the right, if his landlord does not sleep on the premises, or if the lodger have a separate entrance, or the control of an outer door, or occupy a separate building. It is only necessary in all these cases that the lodgers should require an over- seer to put their names on the poors rate book, ( either separately or in conjunction with the landlord) and any payment afterwards made by them may be deducted from the, rent, as the landlord will, in consequence cf such claim to be rated, cease to be called upon for rates, or will pay proportionally less. Where a man rents a house, and the parish officers have rated the landlord, tbe tenant, if occupying, will be entitled to vote after he has claimed to be rated, or has got his own name put upon the poois rate. It is not neccssary to be rated at lOf, if the pre- mises be worth that sum annually. Where the rates of any number of houses or cottages are paid by the landlord, the names of the occupiers should be inserted in the rate book ; tlie form of the rate book is prescribed by Act of Parliament, and each page contains one column headed owners, and another headed occupiers; the parish officers are required to insert the names of the owners and occupiers in their respective co- lumns, as far as the same can be ascertained : this is gene- rally neglected ; the parties themselves, or the landlord who pays the rates, should therefore see that their names are properly inserted. The Elector's Companion, or Guide to the Fran' ehise. By GEORGE HUGGETT. London : Clements. The purport and utility of this little work may be gathered from its double title, both being strictly applicable to its general contents. To de facto elec- tors it is a " Companion " replete with hints and ad- vice necessary to be observed if they desire to con- tinue in possession of their privilege. To those who are legally qualified for, but have not previously pos- sessed themselves of, the common right of citizenship, this pamphlet is a clearly defined and plainly to be understood " Guide to the Franchise." We need not reiterate our well known contempt for the existing iniquitous and class- favouring system of mock representation. On all hands it is at length admitted that the once vaunted Reform Bill of the Whigs has proved— like its authors' character for honesty of intention— a frightful delusion. But Mr. Huggett has demonstrated that many now Non Electors might, by following bis instrwQtigns, remov^ RANK AND FASHION; OR, THE COUNTESS lt{ SPITE OF HERSELF. BY MRS. E. O. FMBURY. ' So, Mary, you have really given up all intentions cf going to Mrs. Malleron's party to- night;' said Julia Mor- daunt to her sister. • I never thought pf going, Julia.' ' It will be a splendid affair.' • I don't doubt it.' ' The newly arrived Count tandsfoth will be there.' ' I dare say he will; Mrs. Malleinn likes to form collec- tions of wild animals.' ' Mary, for shame ! your sarcastic temper will be the ruin of you.' ' Nay, sister, you misunderstand me, I do not mean to be ill- natured, but 1 will not go to the party in question, because I most heartily despise the mistress of the feast." ' Why so inveterate in your dislike of poor Mrs. Malle- ron, Mary ? She haB very elegant manners, is highly ac. complished, and gives splendid entertainments.' ' You well know my objections te ber, Julia; after jilt- ing the lover of her youth, she married a decrepidold man> solely for bis wealth, and now, leaving her suffering hus- band to the mercy of hirelings, she is dissipating witli a free hand the price at which she sold herself, while she is exposing herself to the world's laugh by her indiscriminate coquetry. She may be a woman of el egant accomplish- ments, but I know, and so do you, Jul ' a, that she renders herself contemptible by her pride of Purse, dangerous by her love of scandal, and something ore than indiscreet by her desire for notoriety.' ' Quite a cabinet picture, Mary, upon my word ; I did not think you were so skilful in making sketches, but you must excuse me, sis, if I tell you, that such pictures lack the varnish of charity, which covers many defects, and brings out many beauties.' ' It may be so, Julia, but if I were disposed to carry out your figure, I should say that the most hideous portrait that ever was drawn by malice, or coloured by slander, would be allowed a place in the saloon of fashion, if it were only decked with a gilded frame. However, there is no use of discussing the subject; I will never visit one whose character I despise, so that question is settled: and now let me help you dress for this splendid party, since papa will soon be waiting for his game of chess.' ' You are a strange girl, Mary; I begin to think you are only fit to be the wife of a country parson. To think of your giving up such a party to stay at home and play chess! But perhaps you expect visiters?' and Julia looked archly in her sister's placid face as she spoke. ' I deserve no creditfor staying home with papa to- night, for I dare say, if I anticipated as much pleasure as you do, I should be selfish enough to leave him alone again, as I have often done on other occasions.' Julia was silent, for she was busily employed in the arrangement of a stray ringlet, and the engrossing duties of the toilet, put a stop to all conversation save that which related to the impartant business then in progress. There now, you look beautiful, Julia,' said Mary, as she kissed her sister's cheek, ' pray do not waste your smiles upon any terror- faced count to- night." How you do hate foreigners, Mary.' You are again mistaken, Julia; I have no such narrow- minded prejudices as would induce me to condemn men because they were born in another country, but I do most heartily detest the affectations and pretence of those who come here with no other gift than impudence and whis- kers to speculate upon the gullibility of us Yankees. I will venture to wager my new bonnet, that Count Hunds- foth is a tall starved- looking individual, imprisoned in a tight frock coat, plentifully be- braided and be- frogged,— with a face covered with yellow liair, through which peep two little grey eyes,— a face, in short, something like that of our old dog Ponto, only without his honest expression." ' Fie, fie, Mary !' ' Well, let me have a more accurate description when you return,' said Mary, laughing, as she tied on her sister's clcak. ' Pray, Mary, where did you ever see Count Hundsfoth?' said Julia, as she took her seat at the breakfast- table tit next morning. ' I have never seen him,' replied Mary, with a look of surprise, ' You described him so exactly,' said Julia, ' that I really thought you must have met with him. I wish you bad been with me last night, for you would have found ex- cellent food for your wit among the circle which tl » e title of the illustrious stranger drew round him. Seated on a divan in the centre of one ofthe rooms, directly tinder the blaze of an immense chandelier, sate a little slirivelled- up man, such as you described, but with this difference, that if he resembled Ponto, it must have been when the poor dog was very sleepy, for a more stupid, heavy loekiog individual, 1 never beheld. A crowd of ladies wete around him, Mrs. Malleron having been careful to take every body up to him as they entered the room, as if lie had been a sovereign prince receiving homage, until at last the creature deliberately rose from the midst of them, sauntered carelessly round the room, and spying a con- venient corner, settled his head against the wall, and actually went to sleep .' It required all Mrs. Malleron's tact to cover such a flagrant breach of good manners ; but he was a nobleman of. « ixt, e « n .^ uarteringSj Bnd so w^:- exewed,' ' I suppose his armaria I bettrings lacked supporters, and he was therefore overcon by their weight,' said [ Mary, laughingly. • He was overcome witli something; but whether it was with heraldic houo urs, Rhenish wine, or native stupidity, I could not dis cover. Mrs. Mallerou tried to make him show off to adv; intage, but he required as much goading as the poor old lie > n in the menagerie, and when stirred up, contented hims elf like the wearied beast, with stretching out his talons a nd showing his teeth.' ' Then you did not danc t with him ?' said Mary. ' Why, yes, I could not Tesist the temptation of being envied by all the belles In the room. He declared he should only waltz onoe, just to give us an idea of aristo- cratic dancing, I suppose, ami he selected me as his partner; but like ino » t other ,' aonours, it cost me some pains, as he trampled without mercy upon my poor feet.' ' Well, Julia, it may be an honour to have one's toes trodden on by a count, b » t 1 assure you I do not envy you the distinction.' ' Now tell me, how did jou pass the evening?' asked Julia,' I don't believe yo> 1 were without company.' ' No,' said Mary with a. slight blush, ' Frank Merrivale came in, and took my p ' fact at tbe chess- board, much to papa's satisfaction, as he plays a far better game than I do.' ' I marvel at the encouragement you give that young roan, Mary; he is good enough in his place, but really it is hardly consistent with your straitlaced notions of propriety to admit him - on such; a familiar footing,' said Julia. .. ' Pray, what is you r objection to him, my daughter?' said Mr. Mordaunt, s peaking now for the first time. ' Oh, I have seve ral, but I should think Mary's pre. judiee against foreigners would operate unfavourably with respect to the gentleman in question.' ' Frank Merrivale is au American citizen, Julia,' said < her father, ' although his father and grandfather were born in France; while the virtues which are hereditary in his family, would ennoble any name. I have more than once to'ld you that what you call our prejudice against foreigners, extends only to a certain class,— a species distinguished by whiskers, mustachios, and pretensions, who, with sundry titles, often as empty as their pockets, obtain admission into our best society, and become the special' pets ' of, fashionable women.' • Really, papa, for my own part, I should be as much disposed to favour a foreign nobleman as you seem to be to encourage a poor watchmaker's son; I prefer to be a little farther removed from the ' working classes." ' Let me tell you a story, before you go farther, Julia,' « aid Mr. Morduant, as he finished his cup of coffee. ' There was once a poor little boy, who having lost " both liis parents by an epidemic fever, was about to be t rans- ferred to the city alms- house, when an humble tailo ir in the neighbourhood, compassionating his forlorn condi- tion, took him into his family. Here he was treated like a son, being fed, and clothed, and sent to school, ju st as were the other children. As soon as he was of suffi. : ient age, he learned the trade of his benafactor, and unwilling to remain a burden upon him, set off to seek his fortune. Taking his bundle of clothes under bis arm, and throwing over his shoulder u.' containing the implements of his trade, he wandered about the country, going from house to house, making a id mending the homely gar- ments of the farmers, and receiving in return, food, lodging, ancl a pittance of money. Industry, honesty, and economy, always meet with a reward sooner or later, and the poor tailor, who never neglected an oppoitunity of acquiring knowledge, or of improving his condition, is now a wealthy merchant; living among the treasures of a • well- filled library, and striving to repair the defects of early education by the researches of his old age.' • I don't doubt there are many such instances, pap? said Julia, a little impatiently,' but what are they to i ^ Mamma used to tell us wlieu we were little children, there were few older families in England than the jyjor_ daunts." 4 ' That may be, my dear; as I know nothing about jt will not dispute the fact, but had I been brou " ht in the poor- house, I doubt whether I should^ have ' been allowed any claims to ancient descent.' • You! what do you mean, papa?' a?' jKcd jnjia) in tone of surprise. ' Why, I mean that I have been te'jHnff my own story> Miss Julia Mordaunt,' said the old gentleman, laughing heartily; ' and however aristocrat^ mgy ^ your feeiin they cannot be hereditary, shice you are in fact, the daughter of a tailor !' Julia bit her lip. ' Vou only say t'jese things to teaze me, papa.' ' No, my daughter, you have often heard mc speak of my early poverty, and though 1 spared your pride a knowledge of the details, yet w" lien I find you so ready to despise others, I think it proper y0u should learn to know yourself.' • Well, if it is so,* said Ji^ Ha,' there is the great reason for our making high alVla jjces; I never see Frank Merri- vale without thinking^ ^ f our 01< 1 clock, with its Ethiop face and rolling eye^( which his grandfather made.' ' For shame, J'jQa! ' exclaimed her father; ' bnt since you did not liVjC my piebian story, let me tell you an aristocratic o\ le- When the insurrection of the negroes in St. Donv, ng0) rendered the island a scene of carnage and dest'_ uction, many of the whites were,, as yen well know, glad to escape with their lives, even though obliged to leave behind them all their possessions Ainong these was a middle- aged nobleman, who, with his wife and infant son, were secreted in an American ship, and arrived in New York in a state almost of destitution, a few jewels being all they were able to save from tha • wreck of a large estate. But, thoughieducated amid the appliances or wealth, the nobleman possessed an active and enterprising spirit which would not suffer him to sit down in idle lamentation. Turning his jewels into money, so that they might have immediate means of sub- sistence, he bound himself apprentice to a watch- maker ; a trade for which his mechanical genius, and scientific acquirements, rendered him peculiarly well fitted. His efforts were rewarded with success, and his business became so flourishing, that he brought up his son to the same employment. The old man lived to see a moderate fortune acquired by himself, and a still more competent one by his son; while his grandson, after receiving the best education that our country affords, has inherited the estate along with the virtues of both. I need scarcely add, that I have been telling the story of the parents of Frank Merrivale.' ' I did not know he came of such high descent.' said Julia, pettishly; ' but be that as it may, ( though I am a little disposed to be as incredulous on that subject as you often are on similar ones,) I should be very sorry to receive Frank Merrivale on any other terms than that of a pleasant acquaintance.' • Then you must make up your mind to be excessively grieved, my dear Julia, for it was only last night that 1 gave my unqualified consent to his becoming one of our family.' ' Well, I suppose 1 must make the best of it,' said Julia, as the blushing Mary hastily left the room; ' he is hand- some, amiable, clever, and all that, but 1 think Mary's pretty face might have won a higher prize in the lottery of life.* If Julia was displeased at Mary's humble marriage, as she considered it, she was still more dissatisfied with their moderate ideas of housekeeping. Well knowing that a wife cannot too soon assume the duties of a station, which is never filled well unless its tasks are closely and industriously studied; Mary soon after her marriage, raad preparations for removing to her own home. But Julia found continued cause of complaint against her plebeian sister. ' I don't know how to understand you, Mary,' said she, one day ;' papa would give you a handsome house, and the richest furniture, yet you prefer only a two story house, and such furniture as would suit a mechanic's wife.' ' I will tell you my reasons, sister ; if I were to choose a stately house, and fill it with all the costly toys which fashion now requires, J should wish my whole establish- to he in Iweping with such display, Papa's fortune ( CLEAVES GAZETTE OF VARIETY. can supply me with the necessary outfit for such a style of housekeeping, but Frank's means are not adequate to tbe support of such extravagance. His fortune, though not very small, is all embarked in commerce, and of course is liable to the vicissitudes of mercantile life; therefore it. would be folly for us to venture upon expenses which we might afterwards regret. I am too proud to risk such mortifications as have befallen some of our acquaintances ; I will not plant myself on the top of the hill only to be afterwards rolled into the mire at the bottom.' With such ideas, Mary could not but find contentment, and while the friends of her girlhood were striving to form ambitious marriages, heedless of the character of those to whom they united themselves, she was enjoying domestic happiness in her own quiet way. In vain Joiia declared she was burying herself alive. Mary could not be persuaded that her books and her music, together with the performance of all her pleasant duties as a '. vife, a daughter, and a friend, afforded less gratification than the heartless intercourse of the gay. Some pitted, many wondered at, and a few approved of Mary's p', an of life ; but the votaries of fashion were fast losing sight of her, and would soon have forgotten her very existence, when a circumstance occurred, which, while it excited the ep. vy of her contemporaries, made her once more an obi'ect of especial interest to the lovers of wealth and rank. Somewhat more than a year afiter his marriage, Frank Merrivale received letters from France, stating that, during several years, search had been taking for the nearest heirs to the estates and title of the ancient house of Merveille; and furthermore informing him that doubted proof had been received o'i the fact, that a branch of the family had been liviHg in St. Domingo, from whence they had emigrated to America where they had borne the name of Merrivale. The writer therefore re quested that the eldest surviv/ 0r nf u, e famHy woui, j scn( j certain documentary eviden ce respecting his descent, and hold himself prepared, in case the testimony should prove satisfactory, to repair \ o Francs without delay. The proofs of lienal descent were easily procured, for Frank's grandfather, amid all the vicissitudes of his fortunes, had preserved the o\ d genealogical parchments, together with a seal bearing the arms of the family; and these Frank sent, as directed, but with little disposition to follow them into Franciy unless some more certain benefit could accrue than he first anticipated. The occurrence was a subject of mirtj, to his light- hearted wife, and Julia quizzed her unmercifully, telling her that she was revenged upon her all her slanders against foreign noblemen, since, in "/ ite of herself, she was now only a French countess; . while Mary retaliated by reminding lu* sister of her repugnance to the plebeian alliance with a watchmaker's ion. wonom- ol bn< , wvi iiilT-,... ,' The affair proved, however, to be more serious than had been expected. In the course of a few months, Frank re- ceived a letter from the Count de Merveille, assuring him that he was the undoubted heir, lind that a grant had been obtained by which all vexatio, u3 Uw questions were set aside, and permission given > 0 consider him the next in succession, provided he should arrive in France previous to the death of the pres ent possessor. The Count urged the necessity of an im mediate visit to France, declaring himself weighed dovn to the brink of the grave by age and infirmities. ' Whether there was a little hereditary aristocracy still lurking in the veins of the watchmaker's son, I cannot jay, but certain it is, that Frank Merrivalfl showed evevy disposition to accept the old Count's invita- tation. ",' hat. Mary felt indifferent about the matter, is scarcely to be expected; but instead of the elation which J alia would have felt in similar circumstances, she was sadly pained and disappointed. She had looked forward , to a life of quiet happiness, and she could not bear the thought of quitting her native land for an empty title and fortune in a distant country. But she knew licr first duty was cheerful submission to her husband's will, and she made every arrangement for their departure without a murmur of discontent. ' Tell me honestly, Mary,' said Julia, ' are you not, in spite of your prejudices, both proud and happy at this change in your fortunes!' ' Honestly, sister, I am neither one nor the other. We have already a fortune sufficient to all our wants, and as we are far too strongly wedded to American habits to find the same degree of enjoyment in a permanent residence in a foreign land, of what use to us is an empty title, which I should certainly be ashamed to bear in this country, even if it were possible to retain it here.' ' I only wish I were placed in similar circumstances, Mary; indeed I have almost decided to accept the hand of the handsome Baron Wallenstein, my new admirer, as soon as he shall offer it, in order that I may meet you in Paris, and figure as my Lady Baroness beside my Countess sister." ' Do not jest about so serious a matter, Julia; it would break papa's heart if you were to marry one of those strange gentry whom he so detests. He is unhappy enough at parting from me, though I assure him 1 shall soon return.' * But you surely will not.' * I have a presentiment that I shall; however, time will show whether my forebodings are true, so I ( will not dwell on them [ now; only let me beg of you not to entertain the proposals of any one in the hope of meeting me. in Paris.' Two years after the occurrences above related, a cheer- ful family circle were assembled in Mr. Mordaant's draw- ing- room. Frank Merrivale and his pretty wife sat on either side of the happy father, while Julia, with cheerful countenance and simple garb, was busied in fondling a lovely little babe, who nestled in her arms. The Merri- vales had arrived only on that very afternoon, and of course all was joyful excitement. ' Now tell me the whole story of your inheritance, and why you came back so much sooner than we had hoped,' said the old gentleman. Frank smiled. ' I leave Mary to relate the affair,' said he, ' you know her skill in sketching.' ' I shall make but a few rough strokes,' said Mary. ' To begin, then; we found the the old Count de Mer- veille, Frank's great grand uncle, ( is not that the relation- ship ? ) living in an old chateau some sixty leagues distant from Paris; as you have never seen any thing like an old chateau, I despair of giving you an idea of the utter deso- lation of the place. Imagine immense apartments hung with moth- eaten tapestry and frightful portraits, uncar- peted, and destitute of fireplaces,— casements only half glazed, and flapping on their rusty hinges,— bed- rooms furnished with faded velvet curtains and coverlets of tar- nished embroidery, but without a single comfort so com- monly found in our neatly appointed chambers,— terraces overgrown with weeds, and having their stone steps broken and decayed;— such is a faint outline of the house; as to the grounds, they occupied a space of twenty acres, and produced a luxuriant cropjof cabbages and onions > — Don't laugh, Frank; you know it is true: the land was farmed out to save the expense of a gardener. The old count, proud, petulant, and devoted to snuff and ecarte was anything but an agreeable host; and, upon the whole, Frank soon made up his mind that • Lejeu ne vaut pas la chandelle;' in other words, that neither title nor estate was worth coming after.' ' Nay, Mary, you are a little too severe,' said Frank; ' the truth was, that the age and embarrassments of the old count had allowed his property to fall into a state of dilapidation, i which, with plenty of money might have been repaired. But I felt no disposition to spend my American dollars upon a tumble- down French castle, and when the count died— I might almost say, went out like a caudle, for he seemed to have withered up till there was nothing left of htm but snuff,— I sold the chateau, and relinquished the title to a forty- fifth cousin of the family, who had made money enough by trade to be willing to purchase acountship at a price far beyond its value.' • Then you came back no richer than [ you went,' said Julia, laughing. ' Oh, you are mistaken, lady fair; I brought back some thousands of francs, and that sturdy boy who clings to his aunt Julia, as if she were not a new acquaintance.' ' By tbe way, Julia,' said Mary, ' what has become of your elegant lover, Baron Wallesteta? » Wben last you , wrote about him, I concluded the whole affair was settled, ' • jt is— it mU5t be Edgar,' she sal'A springing to the floor, evneetpH in bo t,, „-„„ » „„ it I < , * . vm ' ti* mv Ed^ ar.' and almost expected to be obliged to greet you as " my tody,' " Julia's face crimsoned, and she began kissing the baby with such violence, that she soon set him bawling most lustlily. Of course no questions could be answered, until little master was soothed into silence, and before that could be effected, Julia had quitted the room. ' Do not speak to Julia on that subject,' said Mr. Mor- daunt, smiling, ' it is a most delicate matter, I assure you. It) spite of all my remonstrances, she would, I fear, have married him, had he made definite proposals; but before he could do so the question was decided by others. Julia was one day walking with him in Broadway, when she noticed a man of rather suspicious appearance dodging their heels, and presuming that it might be some pick- pocket, allured by the Baron's rich display of jewellery, she was several times upon the point of warning the noble gentleman to be 011 his guard. However, dreading some unpleasant disturbance in the street, she contented herself with watching the man, until she reached home, when she meant to invite the baron tb enter, and there inform him of his danger. But she was saved the trouble, for she was just ascending the hall steps when the indi- vidual in question, hastening forward, seized the baron by the collar, and with tbe help of an assistant constable dragged him to jail upon a charge of stealing the splendid Spanish cloak in which he was then exhibiting his elegant person, The fact was proved against him; he was discovered to be a miserable adventurer, and his highness is now most honorably accommodated in Sing- Sing prison. Julia was, of course, excessively mortified, and even now, does not like to hear any allusion to the gentleman, but 1 believe it has cured her for her love for titles, and I should not be surprised if she should be content now to bestow her liand on your old playfellow, Charles Barford, even though she knows his father was in early days, only a car- penter. Ami not a most unfortunate father? Surely the curse of plebeianism must cling very closely around me, with a countship in possession, and a baronetcy in expectation, my daughters are, after all, destined to be the wives of plain American citizens 1' PRUDHOE CASTLE; OR, THE MYSTERIOUS ABDUCTION. CHAPTER V. It was drawing towards noon as Father Anselmo quitted Ihe apartments of the Abbot, accompanied by Gurth. They crossed the cloisters to avoid the gaze and hum of the prying busy monks, and took the path to the refuge, a neat plain building, situated at the end of an avenue of beech, cool and refreshing by its shade from the now hot air and burning sun. The first care of Father Anselmo was to secure the entrance to that part of the building they now approached, through a small enclosed garden, distinct from any other communication. This done, he addressed Gurth in severe and energetic terms of displeasure for having infused narcotics iu the drink of the rescued; pointing out to him the fatal con- sequences to constitutions emaciated by long confinement. ' And now,' he concluded, * do you still persist that there is one prisoner remaining in Prudhoe Castle?' ' I do,' replied the humbled Gurth; ' in the south tower, and below the bedroom of the Baron, to which there is no other entrance that I know of. With every part of the castle I am fully acquainted, except that tower and the passage from the Chapel, by which we camc out.' Father Anselmo mused for some time, and then ob- served, ' There is a sliding panel in the summer retreat in the wood on the south ?' ' There is,' answered Gurth; ' but that communication does not reach into the castle ; it remains in an unfinished state near the ditch, to which there is perhaps some chan- nel, by which any foe attempting an eutrance that way could be drowned.' Father Anselmo scrutinized the face of Gurth as he made this remark, and, walking a few paces aside, con- tinued to ruminate. ' At length,' he said,' you have con- versed with these men, Geoffry and Theodore, and say they are steady, brave, honest, but discontented with the Baron's service ?' ' They are; and now they have fled, there is only one really sober man in the castle, and that is Hugo.' * And Conu,' added Father Anselmo. • Not Conu,' replied Gurth; ' he drinks, and at times hard,— deep. Hugo is the only man left who does not drink.' ' Know you why Geoffry and Theodore have fled ?' • The cause is now in the abbey,' said Gurth; ' one, while in the boat, we might have witnessed had not our own fears prevented, when the lights appeared upon the river ramparts.' ' Indeed! how so?' ' The Baron ordered his daughter Gertrude and Uncas the page, tied together, to be thrown alive into the river, as| he had done his brother Edgar many years ago.' At the name Edgar, Father Anselmo gave a sudden start. ' Ha! well, they did so ?' ' No,' resumed Gurth,' Theodore was one of those who had lowered Edgar down and favoured his escape ; and so him and Geoffry have done by Gertrude and Uncas: but being now afraid the secret— knowing Gertrude's temper— will not keep so well as Edgar's did, who the Baron believes was really thrown over, and either killed or drowned, although the body was never recovered, they are now flying into Scotland to Argyle.' ' This must not be,' replied Father Anselmo— not to Argyle— no, no, not to Argyle, my sis what do I say ?' he continued, quickly and confused ; ' not to Ar- gyle, they are required here.' And he again turned aside, musing. ' Gurth,' he continued, after a pause, * on the wall behind that sliding panel, there are two circles drawn.' ' There are; but no secret could be found from them,' said Gurth, wondering to what this conversation would lead- at least.' ' There is. Beneath where these two circles join,' re- sumed the father, ' press the fifth stone and another co- vered way is opened, this leads to the inner walls,' between the Baron's chamber and three others in that suit— there to- night, again we will enter the castle and set this pri- soner free. But see, ' tis now near noon, and time thy deadening potions were slept off. Follow me,' and he en tered the refuge. The first chamber he unlocked contained the lady on whose finger was the ring which had attracted his notice in the stone chamber, as they descended from the castle. She was still asleep. The next they entered, Allen and the Lady Geraldlne arose from table. Each took a hand of Father Ansehno, and by their looks, rather than their words, ex pressed the kindest feelings and gratitude to him. ' My dear children,' said he, ' your present happiness after such sufferings as ours have been. Is the best reward heaven can bestow on virtue. Be thankful, Geraldine, that all, so far, has gone well: without accident, and with- out bloodshed. There is, however, much yet to accomplish — in the mean time, receive my blessing.' Geraldine rested her head upon his shoulder, as the Father pressed her to his bosom, and requested they would not go into the gardui until his return. Geraldine blushed and faltered as she released his hand, and Allen assured him of their strict obedience to his wishes. In the third room, was the other sleeper, who no sooner saw Gurth enter than she hid herself beneath the clothing. ' Oh, God 1 it is no dream," she franticly exclaimed, • there is that man again.' Father Ansolmo motioned Gurth to retire, and advancing to the bed. side took her hand in his, saying In a soft tone, ' Daughter, be of good cheer ; arise; it has pleased God to release thee from thy foes, and thou art now under the protection of our holy mother Church, be comforted, arise.' ' That voice 1 oh, God 1 that voiee was Edgar's,' she cried in agony. ' Constance— 0I11 thou art indeed Constance,' exclaimed the Father, pulling aside th?, clothes, and gazing at her emaeisted features, * say, art thou Edgar, or do I dream— ves, ' tis my Edgar. « Constance, my dear sister, am I ag. « n so blest as to behold thee,' burst In rapture from theboso. ™ of the Father, as he supported her trembling and slender ftv'nie, cTlln8'" g to him in transports of affection; ' merciful heav. en, x thanx thee,' he ejaculated, between lit? kisses with whjo. 1 « ne stopped his utterance—' look dowft from Thy meixy-. sMt upon us, oh, God! and sooth this de'Jnam, while we' 4*. cribe to Thee the praise.' A single teat fell from his eye upon the pale of Constance, whose eager unsatisfied gaze seemed to seek in his features some lost lineament cherished in her memory— again, again, and again, did she push him from, and pull him to her bosom, each time with greater intensity of feel- ing, but not a tear, not a sigh escaped her. ' Edgar a monk!' she uttered In surprise, ' my murdered, mourned, lamented brother— it is— it is Edgar.' Here Gurt'n, followed by Allen and Geraldine, caught lier eye, gazing in silent astonishment. ' But who are these ?' ' My mother,' cried Allen, rushing between them, and folding her impetuously to his heart,' my dear mother!' Tile silent struggles of Constance as she viewed Allen, whose strong grasp and repeated embraces, her panting bosom could not restrain— the joy which played upon her features— tlie delight of Geraldine— the placid satisfaction of Edgar— and the increased wonder of Gurth— deprived all of utterance. Geraldine, the bashful, timid, blushing Ge- raldine, in rapture grasped the hand of her aunt as she raised It from the shoulder of Allen, and imprinted on it rapid kisses. This little act increased the astonishment of Constat ce, whose eyes wandered to each, but immediately reverted to Allen, whose feelings were in such tumult, that, ' Uncle!— Mother!— O, God!' were the only words he could command. For some minutes a dead and painful silence pre- vailed, as the group stood thus in wonder. ' Bamborough!' escaped the lips of Constance, in a nearly inaudibls whisper. ' Yes, Constance, Allen is the rightful Baron Bambo- rongh, and your son. Since that bloody, fatal night which made you a widow, him an orphan, and me an outcast, in hopes of this glad hour, have I preserved, watched over, and been to him a parent. Love him, Constance— he is your son.' ' Oh, brother Edgar, dear Edgar! my infant boy, my son, my son I' exclaimed Constance, sinking into the arms of Allen. By the assiduity of Maude, whom Gurth had brought from the corridor into the chamber, in applying resto- ratives, Lady Constance shortly recovered to a seuse of unbounded joy, after all her sufferings, in the reality of hose tevents which had passed before her as a dream., GIGANTIC HADDOCK.— A haddock of the following ex- traordinary dimensions was caught lately off Findhorn, and brought for sale to Forres fish- market.— It measured three feet long, 19 inches in circumference at the thickest part of its body, and weighed 131b • It was brought by a thrifty hostess in town for 3d.— Forsss Gazette. FRENCH HEROISM.—" It was at Elchingen,'' said the Captain, " you should have seen theni. The re- giment in which 1 was a Lieutenant was ordered to form close column ; and, charging through a narrow ravine, to carry a brigade of guns, which, by a flank- ing fire, were devastating our troops. Before we could reach the causeway, we were obliged to pass an open plain in which the ground dipped for about one hundred yards; the column moved on, and, though it descended one hill, not a man ever mounted the oppo- site one. A very avalanshe of balls swept the entire valley; and yet, amid the thunder of the smoke, the red glare of the artillery, and the carnage around them, our grenadiers marched firmly up. At last Marshal Ney sent an Aide- de- Camp with orders to the troops to lie flat down, and in this position the artillery played over us for above an half an hour. The Austri- ans gradually slackened and finally discontinued their fire; this was the moment to resume the attack; I crept cautiously on my knees and looked about One word brought my men around me; but I found to my horror, that of a battalion who came into action 1,400 strong, not 600 remained; and that I myself, a mere Lieutenant, was " now the senior officer of the re- giment ; our gallant Colonel lay dead beside my feet. At this instant a thought struck me. I remembered a habit he possessed, in moments of difficulty and danger, of placing] in his shako a small red plume which he commonly carried in his belt. I searched for it and found it. As I held it aloft a maddening cheer burst around me, while from out the line each officer sprang madly forward, and rushed to the head of the column. It was no longer a march; with a loud cry of vengeance the mass rushed forward, the men trying to outstrip their officers and come first in contact with the foe. Like tigers on the spring they fell upon the enemy, who, crushed, overwhelmed, and massacred, lay in slaughtered heaps around the cannon; the cavalry of the guard came thundering on behind us, a whole division followed, and 3,500 prisoners and 14 pieces of artillery was captured. I sat upon the carriage of a gun, my faee begrimed with powder, and my uniform blackened and blood, stained; the whole thing appeared like some shocking dream. I felt a hand upon my shoulder, while i rough voice called in my ear.—' Capitaine du soixante- neuv& me.' iu es mon. frere.' It was Ney who spoke. This" added the brave Captain, his eyes filling as he said the words, " this is the sabre he gave me."— Charles O'Malley. BRAHAM'S " DEATH OF NELSON,"| AND LADY HAMILTON. — Mr. Samuel Spring, formerly the box bookeeper of Drury Lane Theatre, was what is called a character, aid hat? acquired an excessive faith in Mathews' infallibity in all things connected with his mental faculties ; and Ma- thews, discovering this, was always saying or doing some- thing ( previously contrived) that ensured the increasing wonder and reliance upon the gifted powers of the come- dian. » • • After the burning- down of the two great patent theatres, the Drury Lane company acted at the Lyceum; and in 1810 an opera was performing there, in which Braham sung a very popular song, the " Death of Nelson." Mathews, conversing one day with Lady Hamiton, was questioned by her as to the merits of the new opera, at the same time stating her intention of ac- companying some friends of hers to the theatre that even ing. Mathews considerately advised her ladyship to forgo her | intention, explaining that there was a song in the piece, tbe subject of which would touch her feelings, and distress her very much. Whether lady Hamilton forgot this prudent warning, or whether she suffered her desire to listen to the hero's praise to overborne her apprehen. sion of the result, or from whatever cause, it so fell out that Mathews perceived the lady duly seated in a private box, with her little Horatio at her side. It needed no ghost to tell Mathews the scene that would follow, and as soon, therefore, as he quitted the stage, seeing Spring, he thus addressed him, first taking out his watch, and look- ing at it with a solemn and earnest expression of face— " Spring, I give you notice that at about twenty minutes past nine o'clock ( the usual period when the ' Death of Nelson' occurred) a large lady sitting in the stage box opposite will be taken very 111, and require assistance. Do not be out of the way, but at the time mentioned be ready with a glass of water and a smelling bottle; for she will be attacked with a violent fit at the period I have mentioned." Spring looked into Mathew's face with a faint smile upon his lips, which immediately subsided into a thoughtful expression of countenance. At length the critical period arrived, Braham began his song, and before the second verse was finished, sobs and cries were heard all over the small theatre. Spring rushed into the green room " pale as his shirt," and, seizing the water, hastened to the latal box; exclaiming, with an awe- struck voice as he hastily passed Mathews behind the scenes— " Oh, sir, you are a conjuror 1 The lady is in strong con- vulsions !"— Fraw'r Magathe, REMOVAL OF THE MEDICAL ADVISER FROM LONDON STREET, TO No. 421. STRAND. , TiHE MEDICAL ADVISER and EDITOR k of the MEDICAL MONITOR may he consulted dally, even • lavs, from 10 to 1 o'clock, in all acute, chronic, and diflr- on 8i » - ' or ,1,05C which require Secresv, Discrimination, and caltOasrj lKment.— The Loss of Mental Energy in both Sexes. Mature therfrom Constitutional Debility, or Disease, efTec- pioceedinj( tually Cured. MONITOR, a Collection « f Original Essay s on The MEDICAL, r lhe Consumption, Bilious Complaints, Scrofula, Diseascso. be bad ia part, or jn One Volume, at Mr. Indigestion. S^-. ™ 1? ." rand. Biifga, Bookseller, 421, V System In both sexes; being an enquiry I1K* 0 ' be concealed caufe'bat destroys physical energy, and the aUh fJ' of manhood ere vlitpur has established her empire; with obsnr* ations 011 the baneful effects of Solitary Indulgence, and Infeotion) 81111 ou the loss of the Itv^ pToiueive Powers ; with means of restora,'' 8"- The consequences 0/ neglected gonorrhoea, gleet, stricture, se. eoadary symptoms, and ti^ influence of mercury 011 the skin are v'oiuted out and illustrated ti? engravings ; followed by observation.' . TO marriage, with direc!• lv'-^, tor toe removal of disqualifications- By R. and L. Terry and Co., Consulting Surgeons, Birmingham, and Leeds. Published by the Authors, and sold by Strang ® . 21, Paternoster- row; Wilson, 18, BishC. nw'e- street; Purkis, Conip- tou- street, 8oho; Jackson and Co., 13o New Bond Street, Loir- don ; by J. Guest, Steelhouse f. ane, Birmingham ; Joseph Buck- ton, Bookseller, 50, Briggate, Leeds; and by all Booksellers iu Town and Country. The CORDIAL BALM OF SYRIACUM is exclusively directed to the cure of nervous and sexual debility, obstinate gleets, syphilis, irregularity, weakness, impotency, barrenness, & c. Sold in bottles at lis., or four times the quan- tity in one bottle for 33s. Sold by all Medicine Venders in Town and Country. Observe the signature of R. & L. i'erry on th « stamp 011 the outside of each wrapper,— The Five Pound eases mav lie had as usual. PERRY'S PURIFYING SPECII'IC. PILLS, price 2S. 9d., 4i. 6s,, aud lis. per box : are the most effectual cure for every stage ot the venereal disease 111 both sexes; including secondary symp- toms, disorders of the urinary passages, and all external diseases of the skin, without liiudera'nee from business. Messrs. Perry expect wlieu consulted by letter, the usual fee of £ 1. Patients are requested to be minute in the detail of their cases. Medi- cines can be forwarded to any part of the world, protected l'ram observation. Messrs. Perry may be consulted as usual at 4, Great Charles- street, lour deol'S from Easy Row, Birmingham, and 44, Albion- street, Leeds, punctually from 11 in the Morning, until S in the Evening and hi! Sundays from 11 till I. Only ono personal visit is required from a country- patient, to enable Messr?. Perry to give such advice as. willeO'ect a permanent care, alter all other means have failed. N. B. Country Medicine Vendors can be supplied by most of the Wholesale Patent Medieine Houses in London, with the above Medicines. T » 0 those afflicted with GOUT, RHEUMA- X TISM, LUMBAGO, BCIATICA. T1C- DOLOURBUX, PAINS In the HEAD and FACE, often mistaken for She TOOTH- ACHE, fcc. See. There is no medicine to whose ptais? higher and more numercusi testimonials have been given, than to BLAIR'S GOUT ASD RHEUMATIC PILLS,— from all parts of th? Kingdom, and every rank in society, their great efficacy is- acknewiodged. The recent case of the Chevalier de la Garde, Chamberlain to Stanislaus, late King of Poland, is one of the most convincing proofs of their great and extraordinary virtues. Similar effect were also ex- perienced by the Rev. Dr. Blamberg, of Misperton- hali, York- shire, Cli— - —• » London, . gave his testimony to their happy effects. Cases have from time to time been published, as transmitted by, or who can bear testi- mony to their extraordinary efficacy, from Mr. Smeetea, Leeds, Mr. Drewry, Derby, Mr. Noble, Boston, Mr. Drury, Lincoln, Mr.. Hattersby, Barston, Mr. Hall, Gainsborough, Mr. Gardner, Banbury, Mr. May, Evesham, Mr. Walker, Malmesbury, Mr. China, Launceston, and a multitude of others throughout the kingdom, particularly in London and its Vicinity, too numerous for insertion im an advertisement The afflictbd with those tormenting diseases, Gout, Rheumati* Gout, Rheumatism, Lumbago, Set atica, Pains In the Head and Face, eften mistaken for the Toot!- ache, Tic- Doloreux, See. will ixnd from the use of this medicine, that speedy relief for which it is celebrated. And while its efficacy is unparalleled for the fore- going diseases, it m « st be consolatory V> the afflicted with Gaut, to be assured that it possesses the property ef preventing the disease flying to the brain, stomach, or the vital parts. Sold by Thomas Prout, 229, Strand, London; and, by his ap. Sointment, by all respectable Medicine Venders throughout the uugdom. Price 2s: 9A: per box.— Ask for Blair's Gout awl Rheu- matic Pills, and observe the name and address of " Thomas Prout, 229, Strand, London," impressed on the Government Stamp affixed to each box of the Genuine Medicine. PARR'S LIFE PILL S— Notice. You will frequently see published, accounts of the extraor- dinary curative powers of Part's Life Pills. The names of most of the parties there mentioned are well known to tbe public as gentlemen whose characters stand high in society, and whose unsolicited testimony must place these facts beyond possibility of contradiction. They have also kindly promised to answer the inquiries of any parties, who desire further particulars. These facts have had the effect of creating an immense demand for the medicine, and, as is always the case, when tbis large sale became known, certain unprincipled adventurers immediately set about preparing and offering to the public various counterfeits. Their statements exhibit the most unblushing effrontery, which is concealed nnder plausible pretexts, calculated to deceive the unwary. There is, fortunately, however, a, protection for the public in the Government Stamp; and although needy shop- keepers may attempt, for the sake of larger gain, to force the spurious sort upon you, be sure you purchase none without the words " Parr's Life Pills" are engraved on tile Government Stamp in white letters < m a red ground. Sold wholesale, by appointment, by E. Edwards, 67, St. Paul's, London, and retail by all respectable Medicine vendors, In boxe* at Is. lid.. Is. 9d„ and lis. each. READ THE FOLLOWING. " To the Proprietors of Parr's Life Pills. " Gentlemen,— I feel it a duty I ewe to you and the public at large to aeknowledge the astonishing benefit I have received from taking Parr's Life Pills. X was for nearly nine years a soldier in the 52nd Regiment of Foot, and was discharged in October, 1889, in consequence of ill health ( being deemed consumptive), after having the best advice her Majesty's service afforded, I returned to my native town, feeling that my days could not be long on earth. But by what almost appears an interposition of Provi- dence, my attention was directed to Old Parr's Pills, and by taking only two 2s. 9d, boxes, 1 was completely cured, and am thus a living monumentto| the good effected by this most valuable Medicine. Within the last few days I have been on a visit to some of my friends in a neighbouring village, where I was told that ' it was like seeing one risen from the dead, to see me walking through their streets.' 1 have recommended them to ny neighbours, and many of them have experienced very great benefit from their use. " I am, Gentlemen, your most ohedient Servant, , „ , . " JOHN OSBORNEi " Witness— James Burgess, Bookseller, & « ., Hinckley." Mr. John Osborne's case was pronounced by the Regimental doctors to be incurable consumption. By the aid of this won- derful medicine, he is now so hearty and active as t, be enabled travel on foot since the date of his recovery upwards of 1200 miles. ' Read also the following letter just received from Mr. Judion Woolwich:— _ ' " To the Proprietors. " Gentlemen,— from the commencement of Parr's Life Filta being introduced into this town, tha sale of them has rapidly inereased; I now sell at least a doien boxes whore I formerly sold a single box. 1 am not at all surprised at the great demand made for them, when instances of their efficacy are freouentlv communicated to me, by those who have either witnessed or personally experienced the good efleets of them, and oonsequentlv are happy lo make known their beneiioial properties to others If requisite. I could bring forward several Instanoes which have recently come under my notice, but thinking it will be tresnasjimr on the limits of your bills, 1 will briefly mention two cases:— The first is that of a young lady, who hadTbeen sufferinir for many years with frequent periodical attacks of a painful affection in her side, quite incapacitating her for the time from attendlnir to her domestic duties ; having heard of Parr's Life Pills she purchased a box ; experiencing relief, she continued their asp and is happy to say she has derived more benefit from these Pillc than from any other medicine she has lakes ; the paroxysms being much less frequent, and far less acute, and she has reason to believe that they may effect a permanent cure. The next is that of an old gentleman, upwards of 70" vearj of age, in a very declining state of health, whose wife, h. anng that ur s Life Pills were an excellent. mvi( 7, „-.,;„.. — JI : ^ ,—, i T"' - : - e • oitvuu DUX sue said t0. her aj? ™ able surprise, was very much better his health had returned, his sinrits were revived, and his strength ^ eral years younger, and for the Parr's Life l'ills were an excellent invigorating medicine pur- chased a box ct me; on her coming for a second box, she said her husband, to her agreeable surprise, was very much hett « r his health had returned, his spirits were revived, and his str « n » Vb renewed, and he now seemed several years youneer and ni , v.. future she would always keep some by her. K ' aM lOT the " I am, Gentlemen, yours most respectfully, 23, High- street, Woolwich. Oct. 12, mi." ' JUDS ™ ' CAUTION,— Beware of imitations. The genuine has the wont. " I'arr's Life Pills," in white letters on a red ground, and that M- Edwards, 67 St. Paul's, is the wholesale Agent. ' Mr- To the prejudices of some the proprietors refer th « „ t letri- r. Truth will prevail! ^ ler abor « GKATIS.— The lifo and times of old Parr, who lived to r, o , years of age; containing remarks on disease, health and tho i ^ ^ CLEAVE S GAZETTE OF tAHlEtf 1— i r4_ J— t J Jt)—;— I— POETS' CORNER. THE PRISONER. " Stag- ration of mind not only is present misery, but impairs tbe intellect. Vacancies and moments of wait- ing and suspense look trifling individually, but their sum total would be found a fraction of human life too large to lie unreclaimed from wearisomeness and attrition of intellect. 1"— Westminster Rr Vew, 1842. Ten long years— a captive— I Far heaven's breath and fragrance sigh; Ten long years immured in gloom, In my soul is written— Tomb! Ten long years oppressed by chains, In a dungeon's dark domains. I languish— sicken— faint and die, For thee— thou gorgeous Liberty ! Ten long years the world hath been A paradise to me unseen; The murmurs of its voice hath come, But to deepen yet my doom. Ten long years— a shroud hath wound All my inmost heart around ;-— Ten long years— my soul a blank" In silence— save the iron's clank. I Ten long years— I mourn ye not For my wither'd body's lot; Nor because the sunny air Found no access to my lair,— I Nor because the song of bird Wis by me a charm unheard,— Nor because the spring's green leaf * Never brought to me relief ;— Nor because the ocean's wave, With loud war or gentle lave, Never broke the silence grim Of these prison bounds so dim ;— Nor that, thro' the earth and sky, Gladness rang triumphantly, From which I was a thing apart, Of which no echo reached'my heart,— Nor because the cold high stars Pierced not with their beams these bars,— Nor that my dreams Were agony The spot of fiendish revelry. Nor because e^ tremest pain To Are earned to change my brain,— ™ ur because— alternately I sank in icy atrophy, Nat a pulse in all my frame But a clammy dew— the same As I have heard invades the dying When life, and time, and soul is flying. Not for such things fall these hot tears," Mourning ye— ten, sad, long years. But, that I mourn ye for— and worse, With all my spirit's power curse ; Is— that iu your heavy roll Ve have dimmed and sunk my soul 1 Ten long years within these bonds In anguish lost,— my thoughts despond— And faint, and worn, and racked I lie— Oh, God 1 give back my Liberty! January 8th, 1842. FRANCESCA, THE VANISHED SEASONS. WHEN first the snowdrop told of flowers Of spring, what busy hopes were ours,— Whilst yet fair Nature's folded powers Were silver- cold,— Of April sweets in sun- bow showers, And May's flower- gold! The violet and the primrose fleet, In their old stations did we meet. As travellers passing by who greet, Just seen and fled; And then was Spring that maiden swest, A beauty dead! Then Summer came, a matron fair, Showering June's roses on the air; With field- flowers waving everywhere, In meadows bright; With blissful sounds, with visions rare, A large delight! How rich the woods ! how loud with song ! How glad was Nature's heart and strong 1 With beams that might not linger long, The summer shone: A scythe was heard— a sound of wrong— And she was gone! Next, sunburnt Autumn trod the plain, With ruddy fruits, and rustling grain ; And labouring steed and loaded wain ; And mirthful cheer: Then vanished she, with all her train, From stubbles sere! The light upspringing from the ground, The light of flowers, no more is found; Nor song of birds, nor stream's glad sound, j May longer flow: Now Winter with dead leaves is crowned, Where shall we go ? Where gleams the fire on MILTON'S bust, Gold- bronzing Time's insidious rust; And in strong SHAKSPEARE'S light we must Our joyauce take; And, to the past and present just, Fresh Summer make.) It shall not be a time of gloom ! Gathered from Nature's endless bloom. With happy light will we illume The season sad: And nightly make our winter- room An Eden glad! RICHARD HOWITT. THE MOSLEM'S DAUGHTER. BY MRS. POSTANS. From the Asiatic Journal, 1841. The young warrior's voice trembled as he spoke: " The hour is came when I will dare to ask that which alone can save us. Raena hear me. For years has it been my fondest trust, that your father, knowing the character of Kureen Khan, would rather have been still his open enemy tlian have sought his alliance with the price of his daughter's hand. Ambitious as the Aga is, this fatal marriage is now to condemn his only child to a life of endless misery, To- morrow encloses thee iu a living tomb; it chains thae in the vilest uuion which earth and man can make— Veauty and youth with age, voluptuous but. loveless ty fanny. To thee, the sunshine will then be dim; the bright skies will no more bring joy to thy broken heart, nor the gems of earth gladness to thy spirit. The world, which love has made so full of joy to us, will be to me an abode of misery, an eternity of grief,'— tbe maiden shud- dered; ' then fly with me, Raena, and in another land—' For an instant the maiden raised her head and gazed fondly in the young chieftain's face. A horrible thought seemed then to rush upon her brain, and she bowed be- neath it, li) ce a beauteous lily bent by the storm. ' Ah I no, no,' burst'from her lips in tremulous mur- murs; ' Oh think, Yussuf, of my father; think of my brothers' revenge. What would be our fate if I, a Moslem girl, degraded my father's house ? Could my sainted mo- ther look upon the agony of her child, sb « at least would pity it. No— no; my father cannot know all that I have suffered, or he might spare me this; but he has loved me, Yussuf; I have been his pride, his joy— can I bring his curses on my head and make him a scorn and by. word among his people ? Shall the vileness of the Aga's daughter be told as a tale in our neighbours' harems ? No: do not forget me, Yussuf, but to- morrow 1 will be the bride of Kureem khan. Let me, then, return— Yussuf, farewell— and take, as a type of her you love, this faded flower.' As Raena spoke, she held towards the youth the rosebud of which the merry, thoughtless Karishma had been the bearer on that night when the misery of her heart first told her that she loved. The poor maiden then essayed to dis- engage herself from the arm which had wound so fondly areund her slender waist, and fixed her full dark eyes upon her lover's face. ' Twas but a moment; her brain reelpd— her eyes closed— and Raena sunk into the arms of Yussuf. The young chief looked with tenderness upon his fair burden. To save her from detection, from misery, from death, he would have suffered all that man can bear. In the madness of his passion, he had urged her flight; but now, as she lay insensible in his arms, and fee remembered the agony which the proposal had caused, and when he pictured to his fancy the vengeance of the father, should her flight be detected ere her safety could be insured, his thoughts were thus expressed: ' Sweet Raena, thou hast been to me all that consti- tuted bliss since first our infant voices could lisp th » love we felt. To save thee from this doom, ta bless myself with a happiness dearer to me than fame, than family, than life, than honbur, al! i could risk would be too slight a price ; but I must not curse thee with guilt, and erush thee with debasement.' The youth had taken a noble resolution ; he kissed her closed eyelids, and wbile he did so, he prayed they might not open upon him until, favoured by the shades and still- ness of the night, he had borne her through the grove and laid her gently in the harem's precincts; she would then be safe from the world and him. On the morrow her marriage— oh, how could he bear that thought 1 Raena now was in his arms— to- morrow she would be for ever gone— the being he so passionately loVed Would be iihmured In hopeless misery! She loved hirn, too, Raena loved him — for him she had all a Moslem maiden feared, afid now she lay like a bruised flower in his arms, stticken by tbe overwhelming power of this sweet affection 1 His resolu- tion was shaken— at this moment, the moon shining brightly forth, its beams fell upon a'figure'advancing from the palace. It Wa$— yes— it was Raena's favourite brother Rooknadeen. Yussuf im bibre; pressing the still lifeless form of the maiden closely to his breast, he bounded through the gip which had favoured So often his stolen entrance, sprang upon his steed, and fled swiftly across thrfclitajO moSw / ihn. ilOoxJiufji^ s ' jril ffl 1 boliu] » •: # - * f •(••.;.<! • « » There was a blooming garden of mango, banyan, and plantain trees; a rippling stream glittered through its shades, and among tbe tangled foliage of orange arid pomegranate shrubs, whose brilliant fruit gleamed like gems from among the dusky leaves, was a ruined temple, its domed roofs and elaborately carved portals crumbling in decay. Some lodg period probably had elapsed since this spot had been sacred to the worshippers of the Pro- phet, for the garden itself was now abandoned to the luxurious growth of uncultured fruits, and beyond its shades, a dilapidated yillage, or a wandering shepherd and his flock, were all that the eye could mark. Around the rural edifice alone were signs of human habitation. A pair of small embroidered slippers were at the portal; tame peacocks, sunning their gorgeous plumage, strutted near, and where the loftier trees cast their flickering shadows, a dark- eyed girl was filling with jasmine buds a gaily- coloured kerchief. Near her, as if envying her sweet em- ployment, a little honey- sucker balanced its tiny form upon a fragile spray, turning from side to side, and trilling its tender lay, with an apparent consciousness of its own beauty, as at every turn the glanciug sunbeams revealed the green, and gold, and purple of its plumage. Now, as weary of a moment's rest, the little creature would dive into the very heart of some blossom, and, disappointed of the expected sweets, would, with mimic passion, tear the poor flower to atoms, and flit away to a distant bud. It was a little picture of beauty in a petulant and capricious mood, and the lady paused to gaze at it, as it lightly sprang from leaf to leaf, itself like a winged flower. ' Sweet bird,' said she, ' well may you be gay in these pleasant shades, where love and liberty rejoice thy little spirit 1 but I fear that you have gazed upon the reflection of your pretty person until you are half spoilt by your conceits, for see, yoi r friends the butterflies are as bril- liant as yourself, and more harmless too, for they can flit around, charmed with the sun, the shade, the perfumes, but do not scatter with such naughty passion the painted leaves of the blossoms; go— you shall not tear my chumpa buds, for they remind me of the days when I sighed to share with thee the joys of liberty and love. Look, Yussuf,' continued she, as a handsome youth approached her from the temple, ' look what ruin that tiny marauder has already made among my favourite flowers.' ' Dearest!' replied her lover, ' little can you know the happiness I feel, when I find you thus dwelling on the memory of those hours which made you mine. Tell me, Raena,' continued he, drawing the fair girl closer to his side, * do these birds and blossoms, these leafy shades and flickering sunbeams, indeed repay thee for the loss of ease and luxury in thy father's harem?' ' Ah, Yussuf,' and as she spoke, her eyes beamed with a more lustrous light,' all that to me is bright and beautiful is centred here. I oould almost fancy, love, that such a life as this, so bright and free, the favoured of the Prophet, live, in their eternal bowers of bliss.' ' And I might think so, too,' said Yussuf, with a smile, ' with such a houri by my side; and in truth,' continued he, ' it makes me hold but lightly these promises of our creed when, on the earth, its fairest dreams are realized. But you have little womanly ambition, my dear Raena, to prefer the proscribed chief to the princely khaa ; the tomb of Peer Hajea to the terraced palace, and the twittering of these feathered warblers to the nautch- girls' songs.' * Ah 1 speak not of the khan,' replied Raena; ' and how can it be better to sit in sumptuous rooms, watching the growth of candied fruits, instead of these orange buds ? Is it not pleasanter to behold these roses glow beneath the setting sun, than to see the dying of the slave- girls' gar- ments ? Ah, how angry old Zeba used to be when I would neither help her to make her attar, nor yet hearken to her Ameena's songs 1 Far rather would I listen to the gurg- ling note of the rose- loving bulbul than to all the ' Taza hi TUTUS' of the harem's minstrels.' ' And so, sweetest, you do not indeed regret,' said Yus- suf, pressing his lip on her cheek, and smiling archly as he did so,' that in the full bloom of your beauty, you are thus transplanted to my garden of happiness ? Believe me, the rich dyes of tbe merchant and the songs of the poets are as nothing to the voice of my Raena, and the blush which tells me of her love. But, hush,' continued Yussuf, as a sound was distinctly heard in the depth of the surrounding foliage; ' do you not hear?— see you nothing in these shades ?— there— moving— away, by the old ipango tree ?' * Tis only old Timour cropping the young grass,' replied Raena; indeed it is not;' and she threw her arm playfully around her lover, as, with heightened color be seemed about to push into the leafy covert. ' Nay, you shall not leave me— you have played truant half the day, and I am growing jealous of black Timour; see now, ' tis he; see how be moves quietly away.' ' In truth, 1 think it is my noble steed,' replied Yussuff, as he gazed; ' but say, Raena, have I not ieason to love my favorite, when to his speed I owed your safety on the happy eve that made you mine ?— but ah 1— look, ' twas not black Timour that lurked among the foliage,— see how that horse crosses with speed the plain, and he has a rider— great Allah save us 1 grant that it be not so 1— but — see how he lowers his glittering spear, and presses fiercely on the flanks of his straining steed— it is— it must be Lutuf.' ' My brother 1 are we then lost ?— oh Yassuff ? kill me — now— delay not, lest they come and tear me from thee;— kill me, and lay me beneath these chumpa trees then— say that I have fled you know not where, and, when they are gone to seek me, then remember that thy Raena still is here.' ' Dearest,' replied Yussuff, folding the excited girl in a fond embrace,' fear nothing; am I not with thee still ?— We must hasten to quit this spot, Raena; but weep not— whither we go, we shall find stars as bright, and flowers as fair— and a love which, like the firefly, will glow the more intensely for these passing clouds.' Time passed swiftly, and love shed its brightest joys upon that happy pair; but the father's wrath and the brothers' vengeance burnt with a fiercer flame. The dis- appointed Kureem Khan was from far and near collecting his adherents for an attack on Sultanpoor, and the brothers, Lutuf and Rooknadeeti, had sworn upon the Koran to discover and destroy that early friend who had now inflicted disgrace upon their house and name. Hitherto, indeed pursuit was baffled; true, Lutuf had traced the fugitives to their temporary resting place; but again they had escaped his vigilance. In the apartments of the harem, all was doubt and sad- ness. Old Zeba, who had loved her young mistress, and tended her from earliest childhood, sat listlessly, in dark corners of the now undecorated rooms, muttering in- distinctly to herself; or if she spoke, it was in a tone so harsh and shrill, that the slave- girls hurried from her pre- sence.— Ameena, the favorite and sWeet- voiced slave- girl, now sang no more, but her sitarr, with loosened strings, rested upon the cushions on which her lady had reposed when listening languidly to its oft- heard tones. In the chumpa grove, and on the moonlit terrace, strolled the little Karishma, but it was with a step less light, a smile less frequent, than before; she thought the bulbul's note no longer sweet, and she grieved at the fate of her friend, poor Lala, who had been sacrificed to the vengeance of the Aga: so Karishma wreathed no more jasmine and pomegranate buds, to scatter on the embroidered couches of the Harem. * * » * * Alone in the halls sat Miiza Aga, meditating upon his daughter's crime, and upon the foul stain it had cast upon his dear- loved honor. Torn from him were all the prospects of his high ambition; sunk and lost for ever the pride of his house. All that a Moslem values, as dearest to him on earth, was now wrested from his grasp, and the poorest man, richer than himself in the honor of his family and the pure sanctity of his harem, might point with scorn to the degraded Governor of Sultanpoor. And who had thus humbled, the proud Aga? Alas? his gentle daughter ; she who, like her lovely mother, could alone soften his stern nature, and light his eye with tenderness and joy. But of soothing memories, and happy scenes of domestic love, urging pardon and forgiveness, and mercy to the erring, Mirza Aga thought not, Upon the crime and upon the doom alone he dwelt, and his haughty brow grew dark with passion. ' Would God,' said he at length, ' that she had died ere the light of hsaven beamed upon her, who thus has cursed my age with bitterness I And Yussuff— destroyer of all we hold most saered, vile seducer of a Moslem girl, renegade to his prophet and his prince— may the curses ef the desolate and degraded light upon him! May his father's grave be defiled, and his own be with the dogs of the city ! But ha! my sons,' said he with a start, as Lutuf and Rooknadeen stood suddenly before him; ' say, have you found him? Is he slain? Speak— one word— answer me— is the blood of him my soul curseth fresh upon your swords ?' ' Father,' replied Lutuf, in hurried accents, ' It is:— Yussuff has paid the forfeit of his crime. We found them but yesterday, Raena seated by the side of Yussuff, who, clasping her in his arms, entreated us to leave and spare them. Instantly, I cut the villain down, who fell bathed in his, blood at our feet, refusing to return the blow. Seizing Raena, I placed her upon my horse, and brought her hither. She is now in the harem ; but remember, father, she too is doomed; the light of another sun must not shine upon her guilt.' ' My son,' replied the Aga,' You have done well; fear not to leave me the further vengeance due to our fallen ho- nor. She, who has brought pollution to her mother's grave, and has made me a scorn to the lowest of my people, shall perish in her sin ; her fate is sealed.' He waved his hand impatiently, and, in another moment, the Aga was ' alone. * * * * * In the harem's quiet, on a pile of cushions/ iear the ter race- window, which looked forth upon the cnumpa grove, sat the miserable Raena; her head had dropped forwards, and now rested upon her knee, and but that, at intervals deep sighs and rending sobs convulsed her frame, a stran ger might have deemed she slept. , A step approached, and a stately man looked down upon that fair and stricken form. ' Raena!' said a voice, hoarse with constrained emotion. The face, streaming with tears, was raised to his. Raena spoke not, but with an effort which gave te her light form the effect of a senseless statue, aeting from some hidden spring, she stood erect and mo tionless before the Aga. ' Vile, polluted, miserable girl, darest thou think that now, while thy accursed paramour lies weltering in his blood, where jackalls batten upon his unclean carcass, that thou art to feast it in thy father's harem, and pamper thy- self with love- songs ? Know that thy doom is fixed; hope not for mercy ; prepare to wash out with thy blood the stain thy crime has cast upon thy mother's house; for the moment comes speedily which shall be thy last.' ' Father!' said Raena. She paused, powerless to utter more; a shudder passed over her frame, and sinking at the Aga's feet, she buried her face in the full folds of his sweeping robe. A moment passed; the Aga looked upon his daughter, as she lay thus like a senseless heap of drapery, and a dagger gleamed from within his grasp. He stood irresolute. This room had been the favourite apart- ment of a wife he loved— the mother of Raena; here he had seen her look with fondness upon their cherub child through the open windows of the terrace the moonlight streamed upon that mother's grave, and he, who had cherished her in life, and mourned her loss in tears of agony, now stood ready to become the murderer of their child But now another scene appeared. He remembered that night when, returning with pride and joy from the be' trothment of this child, he had placed, andj she had ac- cepted, the jewelled star, which bound her the promised bride of Kureem Khan. She had broken that vow; she had played him false, she had fled, she had fallen— and now the thought came stronger— she must perish ! The voice of Raena startled him from his reverie. '- Fa- ther,' said she again, call me not vile— have mercy upon your child. Oh, my father 1 had you seen him weltering in his blood— had you seen him turn even in death his noble countenance, with a forgiving smile upon my brother Lutuf, you, father, would . have staid his sword in mercy, Oh! kill me not here I pollute not the room my sweet mother loved with the blood of her child ! Take me away — kill me on the desert sands— bury me in the deep wa- ters— but not here, father— not here !' ' Girl, replied the Aga,' is it for you, steeped 3s yeu are in sin, to talk of that which thy very breath profanes? Know, wretched one, that thy mother was pure; would to Allah her grave was now unpolluted- by the crime of her fallen child.' ' OH! my father,' sobbed the unhappy girl, ' had she but lived, I had not erred. I dared not tell, you how feared the khan; but my heart was breaking; and, had not loved Yussuf, I should have died ere this. Father— father you know not all; I am guilty, but not so guilty as you think me. Have mercy upon your miserable child OH! let me live; send me, if you will, away— far away— but stain not with my blood the dear and honoured hand which has so often rested affectionately upon my head. Father, we are alone; how can they know you have not killed me ? Take me away, through those shaded paths ; let me but seek some solitary shelter, until my brothers' hard hearts are softened towards me, and in the lonely sanctuary of some holy place, live in prayer and penance, till forgiven by them and Allah 1 Spare me— my father: and none but you shall know the mercy you have shown! Still lying prostrate at her father's feet, Raena cast back her head, from which the long hair fell in matted tresses, torn and dishevelled by the violent scenes of the past hours, and gazed eagerly in her father's face, clasping his feet closely to her bosom. Again his heart was softened. Was that the face now raised to his, and convulsed with agony, which had in its young beauty so often soothed his heart in other days by its likeness to his gentle wife ? Could he think of her, could he remember his loved one fondling that rosy babe, and now should 1 e stain with her blood the locks which she had so often playfully adorned with fresh flowers to charm him, when life came within that once happy, sacred room? Raena had said well— he could not kill her there. Raena saw her father's struggle. Raising herself from the ground, she cast her face upon his bosom ; his arms closed round her, and the parent and the child wept together. ' Unhappy child,' at length said the heart- broken father, disengaging himself from this sad embrace, and placing Raena gently upon her cushions, ' from me your life is safe; but your brothers' vengeance will not be so ap- peased. I will noW seek the means, for, before to- morrow dawns, you must be sheltered from their pursuit.' * * • • * * * * Mirza Aga left not the harem of his daughter unob- served ; his watchful sons read in his noble countenance that the deed he had purposed was yet undone. Few brothers could, from early life, have loved their sister better than Lutuf and Rooknadeen; but the pride of a Moslem family is proof against the influence of even this affection, when the guilt of an erring woman casts its shade upon their honor. As the young chiefs of a hoble house, both Lutuf and Rooknadeen were actuated strongly by the prejudices and cruel customs of their country j but their natures differed ; and while the same opipipr^ were held by both, in one they biassed only the judgment, while the heart disowned them; whereas, in, the other, they hardened the heart and expelled all gentle thoughts, Mirza Aga had scarcely passed them, ere a look of deep! meaning was exchanged between the brothers. !' His heart is softened,' said Rooknadeen,' and he may . p « ihaps purpose to save Raena; Yussuf's death he may consider sufficient atonement for our sister's crime/ ' I have sworn upon the Koran? replied Lutuf, passionately, * that, from the hour in which I found Raena and her paramour, another sun should not rise and find them living ; and my oath shall be fulfilled. If tW4 purpose of our father has been turned by her tears, she Will find a brother who, at least, will vindicate the honor of his family. One portion of my vow I have kept; to the Prophet I am ac- countable for the rest.' ' But the time,' said Rooknadeen ; ' surely tbe Prophet will not mark at what hour the sacrifice is made. Let her live now, and to- morrow ' ' She will bei safe. Is it so?' said Lutuf sternly. ' Arc the customs of Moslems vain ? Is the purity of our harems to be invaded, and shall our warriors and nobles say- it is nothing ? Is a polluted woman to return to tbe home of her youth, where all was pure, and is a father, is a brother, to cherish and love her, instead of washing the stain her guilt has cast upon them, in her blood? I thought, till now, that even Rooknadeen possessed a spirit to protect our honor; but, thanks to Allah, my own heart and hand are unshaken.' Turning from his brother with a hasty step, Lutuf sought his own apart- ments, and when he again left thein, his brow was dark, and in his hand be held a silver cup, filled With those sleep- inducing and deadly drugs, which, in Eastern harems, so often quench the life both of age and infancy. ###**• « On the departure of Mirza Aga from the harem, Raena, overpowered by excitement, fell into a deep slumber, and fancy, more merciful than reality, filled with happy visions her now untroubled brain. They were of short duration ; she awoke, and Lutuf stood by her. ' I have disturbed you,' said her brother, in accents which chilled her to the heart; ' but drink, girl, and you will then sleep soundly— you have need of rest;' and he held towards her the silver cup. Raena felt that she must die. She essayed no prayer— no word of supplication. She saw the poison- cup offered to her by the hand stained with the blood of her lover, and recoiled instinctively, but rather from the hand than from the doom it brought. ' Raena,' continued Lutuf,' think not that you can now escape me; I come not here to be trifled with by one whose fate shall, as I have sworn, expiate her guilt. Think not that, like my father, I can be moved to spare you; again I say, drink— or the sword that slew your paramour shall speedily end this struggle.' Lutuf advanced, and now stood close beside his victim. — He knew no aid was near. Her women were with- drawn ; her doom was sealed. The assassin and his vic- tim were alone upon that well- known terrace, and as Raena leaned against the sculptured parapet, the silver beams of the waning moon, which yet tinged the foliage of the chumpa grove, fell upon her slight and trembling form. The eyes of Lutuf were now fixed on hers, and a glance of terrible meaning fell upon the hapless girl. ' You refuse ? ' Tis well. That cup was offered in mercy— you reject it— and now ' With a piercing shriek, Raena shrunk from the intended grasp, and, springing upon the parapet, in a moment the depths of that dark chumpa grove saw the crushed form of her on whom the cruelty of man had now wreaked its utmost power. Near the columned tomb of Zebul Nussa,* the beloved wife of Mirza Aga, is a simple grave, shaded by the rich foliage of the sita phul; and the maidens of Sultanpoor, as they pass this spot, scatter their jasmine wreaths, and think with pity on the ' Moslem's daughter.' * Literally, the * ornament of women.' Some facts connected with the cruel fate of a young Mohammedan lady, of a family of rank ( which are in con- formity with the merciless customs of the followers © f the Prophet) having lately fallen under my observations, I have been induced to weave them into the foregoing tale; endeavouring also to retain, as nearly as possible, the cha- racteristic manners of the Moslem people.— M. P., Upper Sindah, August, 1840. BIRMINGHAM. ENGLISH, IRISH, SCOTCH and WELSH - L- i NEWSPAPERS constantly on Sale, Lent to Read, or scut by Post to any part of the Kingdom, for convenience of any per- son wishing the same. Postage to the amount will be taken a* Cash. jji T. WATTS, NEWSPAPER AGENT and BOOKSELLER, 11, SNOW. HILL. Books, Prints; Paper, Account Books, & o. cheaper than any house in Birmingham. WHOLESALE AND RETAIL. PROSECUTION FOR BLASPHEMY.— JL Subscriptions are received at Huggett's Coffee House, 3, North- place, Lambeth, by the Committee lor the Defence of Mi, CHARLES SOUTHWELL, Sentenced to Twelve Months' Imprison- ment, and to pay a fine of £ 100, for a Blasphemous Libel. Also, by H. Hethemigton, Wine Office Gourt, Fleet- street; and J. Bir- kinyoung, 28, Mount- street, Lambeth, London ; G. J. Holy oake, 179, Broomhall- street, Sheffield; Hey wood, Manchester; Ilob- son, Leeds ; Taylor, Birmingham : Paton and Love* Glasgow ; and Robinson and Clark, Edinburgh. A Full Report of the Trial will shortly appear. Publishing in Numbers, " Weekly, at Threepence each, by B. D. Cousins, 18, Duke Street, Lincoln's- inn- nelds, London, the pHRISTIAN MYTHOLOGY UNVEILED, Vin « Series of Lectures, by the late LOGAN MITCHELL, Esq., of No. 9, Grove- road, Lisson- greve, London. The Third Edition. " In regard to the term Atheist, which, of all others is meant to be most opprobrious, let our angry zealot, inthe first place, de- fine precisely what he means by the word:— it he explains it by saying,' it signifies one who supposes that there is no God,' we reply xhat it is impossible to unuerstand this definition, until he declaies in express and intelligible terms what he means by llie word'God.' If it is used to designate that incomprehensible Power by which tbe Universe is ruled, there cannot be such a thin » as an Atheist in existence.-"— Authur's Preface te Second Edition.-- i p h " « The Christian Mythology Unveiled,' is admirably written, dndin evtYy respect it is valuable. It evinces learning, aeuteness, Strong Teasonlng powers, with excellent feelings, and, in all its parts it Shows the author to have been a man of taste, with an elegant aijd highly cultivated mind. We should be very glad to see it circulated in cheap numbers, for the enlightenment of the Widcfle'tlajse'si and the much abused and despised ' lower or- ders "'-"- Weekly Dispatch, Dee. 5, 1841. KILLED ELIZA GKIMWOOD ? ' Read her Lite, entitled " ELIZA GRIM WOOD; a l, E- GfiNDoflluf WATERLOO ROAD;" now publishing in Weekly Mamliers, at One Penny, and Monthly Parts, at St* pence. I N. B,- r- Tbis work is embellished Willi a great numl> er ot* highly finished EugrayiVs, . THEATRICALS. BIRMINGHAM.—' Coriolanus' has been put upon the stage in a style of splendour seldom witnessed out of London. The grouping was very effective, the scenery appropriate, and the dresses new for the occasion. All seemed well up in their parts, and, with very few excep- tions, gave both the text and the reading correctly. Tbe following is the cast: Coriolanus, Vandenhoff; Cominius, Wyndham; Menenius, Munro; Sicinius, Bird; Brutus, Barry; Tullus Aufidius, Nantz; Volumnia, Mrs. Rignold; Virgilia, Miss Beker. Munro's Menenius was given with great precision, and all the sarcasm and humour of the character, which Munro is fitted by nature to display, was brought into action. Mrs, Rignold's Volumnia was very excellent; she displayed all the qualities of the ancient Roman Matron who ' bad rather have eleven sons die nobly for their country, than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.' This fine play was performed each evening with increased interest. The ballet of' The Deserter,' and the farce of ' The Secret,' concluded the entertainments for both Monday and Tuesday, and, with ' Chaos ' in lieu of ' The Secret,' on Wednesday. Mr. Barry gave the testy old gentleman it) ' Chaos' to the life, and Nantz the dare- devil, throw you out o' window gentleman in ' Jack Bunce.' On Thursday, ' John of Procida,' the new tra- gedy by Sheridan Knowles. Procida, Mr. Vandenhoff; lsolim, MiBs Vandenhofl. Mr. Vandenhoff's performance was splendid; and Miss Vandenhoff's Isolim was very chaste, and her reading of the part perfection's self. On Friday ' Cato' will be performed for the benefit of Mr. Vandenhoff. RED BOOK ; or, a Peep into the l'eeia'seVprlce foiirptfiife, a Book everv one ought to lead, in • match ' fltef MhntWW' bf- » » <•' HMise at Lords are dissected anil . posed tolhf World;' i'nr- i' ••• - " Tlfe littlei book iacf^ nin^ Aljull of information, and Is sold al the low - nf ice ei' fourpence." A few vears ago tbe same work could i\ bfbe^ pr6c> uc* d' atttTess etiat ihan half a crown. It will shed a strong lighfctiiioft'tftcwly - ill which the country is drained of flu resource*, in oitl^ r tevaiipipvr^ a useless aristocracy, " We stronglv reeowmend it to^ lit- public."—' Weekly Dispatch. , tlso, pi ice Twopence., AN liXPOSURE OF THE BANKING IX. - AND FUNDING SYSTEM, b » R. J. HICHAJIDSON, being A reprint of Ihe Letter to Ihe Editor of the ' Northern Star,' revised and the figures brought down to the present year. Also, t* rice Threepence, p'EM'S QF POPULAR POETRY; VX containing the whole of Pope's Essay on Man, with other poems by Burns, Sir Wml Jones, 1. Critcbley Prince, Moore, & c. Also, price^ Twopence, , A , VINDICATION OF THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN, BV B. J. RICHARDSON. Price Threepence, rFHE ANNUAL BLACK BOOK! - L OR TOUCHSTONE OF POLITICAL HUMBUG, CHICANERY AND FRAUD 1! Compiled for the use of Taxpayers. To which is prefixed a Political Alftianack for 1843. By R. J. Richardson, compiler ot the Red Book. EMMETT AND IRELAND! Just published, price one shilling, an interesting Memoir, from authentic sources, of the lamented Patriot Robert Emmett; incidentally detailing the Origvi, Progress, and disastrous Ter- mination of the Irish insurrection, 1803, & c. Embellished with a splendid steel engraved Portrait. This edition includes the Trial, celebrated Speech, & c. & c. * This little work is calculated to keep in remembrance the name of one who felt, and felt deeply, his country's wrongs; a man who, in endeavouring to redress them, fell a sacrifice to the schemes of the most blood- thirsty faction that ever governed, or rather misgoverned, Ireland. We hope the book may have an extended circulation."— Weekly Dispatch. Still on Sale at all the Publishers, Price Threepence only, npHE POOR MAN'S COMPANION ; A - L POLITICAL ALMANACK FOR 1842, setting forth at one view, the enormous amount of Taxes wrung from the industry of a starving people, and their extravagant and shameful expen- diture. Also containing tables of useful reference on almost all subjects eonneeted with general policy. " A Chartist Almanack, in which much use is made of the now readily accessible Parliamentary Returns, whose totals are pre- sented and commented upon in the style to be expected from a shrewd and vigorus mind.— Spectator Now Publishing, fLEAVE'S Improved Penny Memorandum Book with Almanack for 1842. V A liberal allowance to Venders and Booksellers generally. TO ALL WHO HATE DRUNKENNESS: Now Publishing, Beautifully Engraved, price One Penny. THE DRUNKARDS CLOAK AND COAT OF ARMS ! In which are faithfully portrayed the horrible effects of Dram- Drinking. " The Excise is fattened with the rich result Of all this riot: and ten thousand casks. For ever dribbling out their base contents, Touched by the Midaa finger of the state, Bleed gold fbr ministers to sport away."— COWPSR. A. Heywood, 60, Oldham- st., Manchester; J. Cleave, Shoe, lane, Fleet- st.; H. Hetlierington, 10, Wine Office- court, Fl « et- st.; J. Watson, City- road; and G. Purkess, Old Compton sl., Soho, London ; Hobson, Northern Star Office, Leeds; J. Guest, Bir- mingham ; Watts, Snow- hill, Birmingham ; Smith, Scotlaud- pl., and 23, Pitt- street, Cleveland- sq., Liverpool; aud all venders in the United Kingdom. XO PARENTS, NURSES, AND OTHERS. SMITH'S HOOPING COUGH EMBRO- kJ CATION is an immediate and effectual remedy for that dis- tressing disease, without the use of inward medicine. Prepared by W. SMITH, Poplar, Middlesex, in Bottles at Is, 1 Jd. and 2s. 9d. each [ duty included]. Children labouring under the symptoms of this distressing complaint, have been perfectly cured in the short space of a week by the use of this Embrocation : while others, when ap plied on the first attack of the cough, were relieved after two or three times rubbing; and such are the extraordinary propertiea of this embrocation, that a single bottle will certainly relieve the cough, and in most cases prpve sufficient for a cure : and in no one instance, when persevered iu, has it ever been known to faU in effecting a cure oi the Hooping Cough, even in its most obsti- nate and alarming stages. The following Cases, amongst many others, have been addrt sied to the Proprietor:— '• MR. SMITH, " Sir,— 1 beg to return you my sincere thanks for the very entraordinary cures performed by your ' Hooping Cough Embro- cation,' on my children. Three of them [ aged 2,6, and 12 years) were for some time most distressingly labouring under that dreadful malady— the Hooping Cough— and so violent was eiich of its paroxysms, that blood issued from their eyes and nostrils, and also a considerable quantity of that • life's fluid' was expec- torated with the phlegm— when in this state, I was induced to try your invaluable Embrocation, and such were its virtues, that after the use of two small bottles, these alarming symptoms dis- appeared, and on persevering to a fourth bottle, I had the hap- piness to see all my children quite ri stored to health. " 1 remain, Sir, Your's truly obliged, •• GEORGE BOND." " E. I. C. Hospital, Poplar, Feb. 28th." " MB. SMITH, " fcir.— I take this opportunity of acknowledging the efficacy of your ' Hooping Cougn Embrocation.' FOUR of my children have been speedily cured by its application, on whicn account I strongly recommend it to families in general. " I am, Sir, Your's obediently, " BHPLIP KELLY. " North Street, l'oplar, Feb. 2nd." CAUTION!!!— The unprecedented success of this invaluable Remedy, lias induced some individuals to copy the appearance of the Wrapper.— Purchasers are therefore solicited to be particu- larly careful to ask for " Smith's Hooping Cough Embrocation," and to observe that none TC genuine unless tbe Proprietor's Signature is on the Guvermnc. it Stamp. No internal medicine is required. Sold in bottles at Is. ltd., and 2s. 9d. each, [ duty Included,.! by Barclay and Son, Fleet Market; Fuller [ late Hunt] 54, While- chapel ; Braham, 141, High Street, Poplar; and all the principal Medicine Venders throughout the United Kingdom. London: Published by JOHN CLEAVE, Shoe- Ian., ( one doci from FleeHtreet), where all the ckeap publications areoomtant1, on tale.— Blcbaid Sgan Lee, Printer, 93, Dtury- lane,