nant Princess Zomira."-"We have a club of clergymen who meet once a month at Kettering to shake hands and exchange sermons: last Friday month I gave one of mine to Doctor Pringle, whose grandfather was chaplain to the English factory at Lisbon, and received one of his in exchange. I intended to look it over on Sunday morning before church, but "-"How extremely well Madame Vestris, Camporese, and Garcia, execute that trio in the first act, 'Sara l'alma delusa schernita:' when Madame Vestris comes in with her 'O l'indegno qui dove perir,' I declare she stands her ground most womanfully: the fact is, that the sweetness of Italian music "-" But Hannah and I were busy hunting the black sow out of the cucumber beds: we were so busy, crying, 'Hey tig! tig!' that we did not hear the bell toll: so up I walked into the pulpit without ever once looking at the sermon "Those orange-tawny stuff curtains are a disgrace to the Opera house"-"well I began reading it, and to my great surprise I found that it had been preached by Doctor Pringle's grandfather immediately after the great earthquake at Lisbon. I therefore found myself under the disagreeable necessity of thus addressing my congregation at Kettering: When I look around me, and behold the effects of the late horrid devastation of nature: trees torn up by the roots; houses toppling to their foundation; men and cattle ingulfed in the earth, and the whole horizon rocking like the ocean in its most tempestuous moments.' You cannot imagine the sensation I excited: the women fanned themselves and fainted; and the men muttered to each other, 'Dear me! something unpleasant must have occurred since we entered the church!'-I never preached with so much effect either before or since." The regular amble of the Rev. George Withers' hobby had now contrived to distance the curvature and prance of Colonel Nightingale's. The colonel pulled up, and lifting a small gold watch from his right waistcoat pocket, muttered to himself—"Ah, the wretch! it is half-past ten, and Catalani must have sung her second Cavatina.-Where do you lodge, Sir?" said the host, coldly to his guest-"At the New Hummums." "Indeed! are you aware that they close their doors at a quarter past eleven?"-"You don't say so?"-"Yes, I do: but you may find very pretty accommodation at the Finish:' the street strollers and market-gardeners speak of it in high terms.' This hit told: the Reverend George Withers looked at his watch, and made a rapid retreat. "Well!" cried the colonel the moment the door was closed, "so much for school friend ship: did you ever see such a vulgar dog—such an idiot too so blind to his own interest: if he had but held his tongue two minutes, I could have given him my opinion of 'Rossini's Zelmira.' I am one Opera night out of pocket by him, and that is enough to make me detest him to my dying day. Such illiberality toodid you hear him say,- What can you expect from a Presbyterian!'-How I hate a man who vilifies a whole tribe for the faults of an individual!-I have long thought it, and I now know it-All men who live in the country are fools." JAMES SMITH. THE OCEAN GRAVE. [Mrs. John Hunter (Anne Home), born in Hall, 1742; died in London, 7th January, 1821. She was the wife of the celebrated anatomist, and the authoress of several songs which have been popular. Of these, My Mother Bids me Bind my Hair, is perhaps the best known. A collection of her poems appeared in 1802.] Friends! when I die, prepare my welcome grave, The gen'rous ocean, whose proud waters bear Binds man to man, and mingles clime with clime: Exiled on earth, a fettered prisoner here, Dreams of delight which heavenward thoughts bestow, THE FALL OF THE LEAF. There is no vice that causes more calamities in human life, than the intemperate passion for gaming. How many noble and ingenuous persons it hath reduced from wealth unto poverty; nay, from honesty to dishonour, and by still descending steps into the gulf of perdition. And yet how prevalent it is in all capital cities, where many of the chiefest merchants, and courtiers especially, are mere pitiful slaves of fortune, toiling like so many abject turnspits in her ignoble wheel. Such a man is worse off than a poor borrower, for all he has is at the momentary call of imperative chance; or rather he is more wretched than a very beggar, being mocked with an appearance of wealth, but as deceitful as if it turned, like the moneys in the old Arabian story, into decaying leaves. In our parent city of Rome, to aggravate her modern disgraces, this pestilent vice has lately fixed her abode, and has inflicted many deep wounds on the fame and fortunes of her proudest families. A number of noble youths have been sucked into the ruinous vortex, some of them being degraded at last into humble retainers upon rich men, but the most part perishing by an unnatural catastrophe; and if the same fate did not befall the young Marquis de Malaspini, it was only by favour of a circumstance which is not likely to happen a second time for any gamester. This gentleman came into a handsome revenue at the death of his parents, whereupon, to dissipate his regrets, he travelled abroad, and his graceful manners procured him a distinguished reception at several courts. After two years spent in this manner, he returned to Rome, where he had a magnificent palace on the banks of the Tiber, and which he further enriched with some valuable paintings and sculptures from abroad. His taste in these works was much admired; and his friends remarked with still greater satisfaction, that he was untainted by the courtly vices which he must have witnessed in his travels. It only remained to complete their wishes, that he should form a matrimonial alliance that should be worthy of himself, and he seemed likely to fulfil this hope in attaching himself to the beautiful Countess of Maraviglia. She was herself the heiress of an ancient and honourable house; so that the match was regarded with satisfaction by the relations on both sides, and especially as the young pair were most tenderly in love with each other. For certain reasons, however, the nuptials were deferred for a time, thus affording leisure for the crafty machinations of the devil, who delights, above all things, to cross a virtuous and happy marriage. Accordingly, he did not fail to make use of this judicious opportunity, but chose for his instrument the lady's own brother, a very profligate and a gamester, who soon fastened, like an evil genius, on the unlucky Malaspini. It was a dismal shock to the lady when she learned the nature of this connection, which Malaspini himself discovered to her, by incautiously dropping a die from his pocket in her presence. She immediately endeavoured, with all her influence, to reclaim him from the dreadful passion for play, which had now crept over him like a moral cancer, and already disputed the sovereignty of love; neither was it without some dreadful struggles of remorse on his own part, and some useless victories, that he at last gave himself up to such desperate habits, but the power of his Mephistophiles prevailed, and the visits of Malaspini to the lady of his affections became still less frequent; he repairing instead to those nightly resorts. where the greater portion of his estates was already forfeited. At length, when the lady had not seen him for some days, and in the very last week before: that which had been appointed for her marriage, she received a desperate letter from Malaspini, declaring that he was a ruined man, in fortune and hope; and that, at the cost of his life even, he must renounce her hand for ever. He added, that if his pride would let him even propose himself, a beggar as he was, for her acceptance, he should yet despair too much of her pardon to make such an offer; whereas, if he could have read in the heart of the unhappy lady, he would have seen that she still preferred the beggar Malaspini to the richest nobleman in the Popedom. With abundance of tears and sighs perusing his letter, her first impulse was to assure him of that loving truth; and to offer herself with her estates to him, in compensation of the spites of fortune: but the wretched Malaspini had withdrawn himself no one knew whither, and she was constrained to content herself with grieving over his misfortunes, and purchasing such parts of his property as were exposed to sale by his plunderers. And now it became apparent what a villanous part his betrayer had taken; for, having thus stripped the unfortunate gentleman, he now aimed to rob him of his life also, that his treacheries might remain un¡ discovered. To this end he feigned a most vehement indignation at Malaspini's neglect and bad faith, as he termed it, towards his sister; protesting that it was an insult to be only washed out with his blood, and with these expressions he sought to kill him at any advantage. And no doubt he would have become a murderer, as well as a dishonest gamester, if Malaspini's shame and anguish had not drawn him out of the way; for he had hired a mean lodging in the suburbs, from which he never issued but at dusk, and then only to wander in the most unfrequented places. It was now in the wane of autumn, when some of the days are fine, and gorgeously decorated at morn and eve by the rich sun's embroideries; but others are dewy and dull, with cold nipping winds, inspiring comfortless fancies and thoughts of melancholy in every bosom. In such a dreary hour Malaspini happened to walk abroad, and avoiding his own squandered estates, which it was not easy to do by reason of their extent, he wandered into a by-place in the neighbourhood. The place was very lonely and desolate, and without any near habitation; its main feature especially being a large tree, now stripped bare of its vernal honours, excepting one dry yellow leaf, which was shaking on a topmost bough to the cold evening wind, and threatening at every moment to fall to the damp, dewy earth. Before this dreary object Malaspini stopped sometime in contemplation, commenting to himself on the desolate tree, and drawing many apt comparisons between its nakedness and his own beggarly condition. "Alas! poor bankrupt," says he, "thou hast been plucked too, like me; but yet not so basely. Thou hast but showered thy green leaves on the grateful earth, which in another season will repay thee with sap and sustenance; but those whom I have fattened will not so much as lend again to my living. Thou wilt thus regain all thy green summer wealth, which I shall never do; and besides, thou art still better off than I am, with that one golden leaf to cheer thee, whereas I have been stripped even of my last ducat!" With these and many more similar fancies he continued to aggrieve himself, till at last, being more sad than usual, his thoughts tended unto death, and he resolved, still watching that yellow leaf, to take its flight as the signal for his own departure. | He what upon fortune; and very shortly the leaf being torn away by a sudden blast, it made two or three flutterings to and fro, and at last settled on the earth, at about a hundred paces from the tree. Malaspini interpreted this as an omen that he ought to die; and following the leaf till it alighted, he fell to work on the same spot with his sword, intending to scoop himself a sort of rude hollow for a grave. found a strange gloomy pleasure in this fanciful design, that made him labour very earnestly: and the soil besides being loose and sandy, he had soon cleared away about a foot below the surface. The earth then became suddenly more obstinate, and trying it here and there with his sword, it struck against some very hard substance; whereupon, digging a little further down, he discovered a considerable treasure. There were coins of various nations, but all golden, in this petty mine; and in such quantity as made Malaspini doubt, for a moment, if it were not the mere mintage of his fancy. Assuring himself, however, that it was no dream, he gave many thanks to God for this timely providence; notwithstanding, he hesitated for a moment to deliberate whether it was honest to avail himself of the money; but believing, as was most probable, that it was the plunder of some banditti, he was reconciled to the appropriation of it to his own necessities. Loading himself, therefore, with as much gold as he could conveniently carry, he hastened with it to his humble quarters; and by making two or three more trips in the course of the night he made himself master of the whole treasure. It was sufficient, on being reckoned, to maintain him in comfort for the rest of his life; but not being able to enjoy it in the scene of his humiliations, he resolved to reside abroad; and embarking in an English vessel at Naples, he was carried over safely to London. It is held a deep disgrace amongst our Italian nobility for a gentleman to meddle with either trade or commerce; and yet, as we behold, they will condescend to retail their own produce, and wine especially,—yea, marry, and with an empty barrel, like any vintner's sign, hung out at their stately palaces. Malaspini perhaps disdained from the first these illiberal prejudices; or else he was taught to renounce them by the example of the London merchants, whom he saw in that great mart of the world, engrossing the universal seas, and enjoying the power and importance of princes, Thus in his extremity he still risked some- merely from the fruits of their traffic. At any "Chance," said he, "hath been my temporal ruin, and so let it now determine for me, in my last cast between life and death, which is now all that its malice hath left me." rate, he embarked what money he possessed in various mercantile adventures, which ended so profitably, that in three years he had regained almost as large a fortune as he had formerly inherited. He then speedily returned to his native country, and redeeming his paternal estates, he was soon in a worthy condition to present himself to his beloved countess, who was still single, and cherished him with all a woman's devotedness in her constant affection. They were, therefore, before long united, to the contentment of all Rome; her wicked relation having been slain some time before, in a brawl with his associates. As for the fortunate windfall which had so befriended him, Malaspini founded with it a noble hospital for orphans; and for this reason, that it belonged formerly to some fatherless children, from whom it had been withheld by their unnatural guardian. This wicked man it was who had buried the money in the sand: but when he found that his treasure was stolen, he went and hanged himself on the very tree that had caused its discovery. FIDELITY. THOMAS HOOD.1 FROM THE SPANISH. One eve of beauty, when the sun The ripples of the mighty river; A Seville girl with auburn hair, And eyes that might the world have cheated, A wild, bright, wicked, diamond pair! She stooped, and wrote upon the sand, Just as the loving sun was going, With such a soft, small, shining hand, I could have sworn 'twas silver flowing. Her words were three, and not one more What could Diana's motto be? The Syren wrote upon the shore"Death, not inconstancy!" And then her two large languid eyes And was the fool she chose to make me. 1 National Tales, London, 1827, 2 vols. 8vo. VERSES. [Andrew Marvell, born at Kingston-upon-Hull, 15th November, 1620; died 16th August, 1678. He was a steady opponent of the court party in parliament. He politician and a poet, the friend of Milton, and the was elected one of the members for Hull in 1660, and continued to represent that city in parliament till his death. Charles II. is reported to have attempted to bribe him and failed, although Marvell's circumstances were comparatively poor. No temptation could move him from the principles he held, and his prose works, satirical and political, exercised much influence on the government of the day. His miscellaneous poems, with portrait and memoir, were published in 1681, and there have been various editions issued since.] Why should man's high aspiring mind In this world, yields to death; To strew his quiet hall. Power may make many earthly gods, The flatter'd great may clamours raise An arrow, hurtel'd ere so high From e'en a giant's sinewy strength, In time's untraced eternity, Goes but a pigmy length-Nay, whirring from the tortured string, With all its pomp of hurried flight, "Tis, by the skylark's little wing, Outmeasured, in its height. Just so, man's boasted strength and power Tyrants in vain their powers secure, And awe slaves' murmurs with a frown; So men-gods, of earth's vanity, And power, and pomp, their all resign— As bare as prison walls, Where the poor suffering wretch bows down Time, the prime minister of death, There's nought can bribe his honest will; He stops the richest tyrant's breath, And lays his mischief still: Each wicked scheme for power, all stops, With grandeur's false and mock display, As eve's shades, from high mountain tops, Fade with the rest away. Death levels all things in his march, Shall mete their shadows' length: MADAME SIMPLE'S INVESTMENT. I. In 186 there were at Paris, as well as in the departments, a hundred lotteries for charitable purposes. Monsieur and Madame Simple, retired herbalists, enjoyed, on a third floor in the Rue Chalot, about three thousand francs a year, of which they scarcely spent two-thirds. They arose at nine, breakfasted, went to the Jardin des Plantes to look at the bears, the monkeys, and the two elephants; returned to dinner at five, played a game at piquet, and went to bed when the drums beat the retreat. How was it possible for them to spend more? On Sundays they passed the day at Belleville, where they had hired a square patch of garden, in the middle of which rose a sort of cabin, christened with the title of "country house." Their friends and messmates consisted of a pug-dog named Pyrame, who was Madame's spoiled child; a cat called Minette, especially petted by Monsieur; and a family of turtle-doves, a source to both of the most delightful recollections, particularly when the cock entertained the hen with his interminable series of salutations. In short, their life to them was a succession of cloudless days, varied every year with one or two important events, such as the happy hatching of a pair of little turtles, or the imprudent propensity which Minette manifested to hunt after nocturnal adventures in early spring. The Simples, therefore, were as happy as it was possible for people to be, when Madame took it into her head to lay out the joint savings of her husband and herself in the purchase of a ticket in each lottery. Madame Simple, who was now and then tickled by dreams of luxury and grandeur, was not sorry to sow the seed of emotions in the somewhat too uniform furrow of her existence. Madame Simple's hopes were not disappointed. Her husband announced to her thirtythree times that they had won the principal prize in each lottery, thereby affording her thirty-three different emotions, which varied according to the importance of the sum, from trembling to convulsion, from exclamation to fainting. The result of the whole was, that the good works of Monsieur and Madame Simple brought them in the trifle of one million two hundred and fifty thousand francs. |