"Joy! happiness! everlasting happiness!" hysterically exclaimed Sophia," she is saved!" and she went to the door, and said, “Come forth, Le Blond! Come forth, Emilie !-ah! come forth, and remove the dreadful suspicions of Gaston du Plessis." Le Blond appeared now, leading a care-worn, but beautiful personage, who trembled on his arm, and he addressed himself to his friend Gaston, "Monsieur du Plessis, permit me to introduce my wife to you." "Wife ?" said the astounded Du Plessis.

"Yes," replied Le Blond. "I have been compelled to keep the secret of our dear Sophia. I am no longer her affianced, and resign all claim to her, having been the husband of this fair lady for many months."

Gaston was confused; he glanced at his beloved Sophia, and said, "What a jealous fool I have been! can you pardon me, my love?" "There is my hand, Gaston," and Sophia smiled sweetly on him. After poor Emilie had been congratulated on her escape from persecution, Le Colombier said,

"Since happiness is thus restored, it does not become me to stand sword in hand."

The Marquis was here sheathing the Toledo rapier close to the chimney. "I wil! not again permit an incident to ruffle my naturally serene temper." Unluckily, at the moment he uttered this, several bricks fell down with a clatter, and Pimental slipped after them, who tumbled, with his hands and face blackened with the soot, against the striped domino of the Marquis.

"Fire and fury!" exclaimed Le Colombier. "Will you never desist ?" and forth came the interminable rapier, when Sophia interposed, and said,

"Ah! Marquis, pardon poor unlucky Monsieur Pimental. Let me henceforth make you inseparable friends."

The Marquis winced and replied, "For your sake, mademoiselle, I forgive this person his freaks and follies; but, as to ever becoming inseparable, excuse me; I have had more than enough of him."

We will now finally sheathe the TOLEDO RAPIER, and convey our whole party, laughing at the events of the evening, and seat them down agreeably at the supper-table of Madame Perpignan, to discuss the merits of the white soups, the dindons aux truffles, the roasted quails, the ices and pine-apples, and other delicacies of the season too numerous to detail.

64

FAREWELL SONNET.

OH! think me not solicitous in death
Beyond the life I lose in losing thee-
There is no flattery in my latest breath,

I leave a world where thou wert all to me!
I go far hence, to undiscover'd clime-
It may be that my spirit shall expire-

(Eternity can tear the page of Time,)

But while Time lasts this suit I would require,
And write it in his troubled volume :-left

Is this fair leaf-inscribed it is to thee

By one of every other joy bereft,

(Shipwrecked at last upon a summer sea,)

May all the blessings Fancy can design,

Or Love, more strong than Fancy, sweet! be thine!"

J. AUGUSTINE WADE.

598

LINES ON A SPOT WHERE IT IS INTENDED TO BUILD A CHURCH.

On this sequester'd peaceful glade,

Where nodding wild flowers deck the green,

Where groves expand into a shade,

And chequer'd twilights dance between,
Where the coy ring-dove builds her nest,
And coos her tender mate to rest,

Here pious vows and hands shall raise,
'Midst crystal streamlets murmuring,
An altar to th' Almighty's praise,

And ope of life the living spring;
And where the roaming cattle low,
The organ's swelling notes shall blow.

Here, where the blackbird and the thrush,
And moonlight-loving nightingale,
Pour from each thicket, brake, and bush,
At morn and eve their plaintive tale,
Matin and vesper hymns shall rise
In mingled chorus to the skies.

Here, where the sheep with tinkling chime,
Browse, scattered o'er the tufted heath,
The church-bell's toll shall mark the time
When sinners shall be saved from death,
Through their great Shepherd's ceaseless prayer,
Waiting his flock with patience there.

Here, where the sun's departing gleam
Illumes each cottage, cliff, and tower,
Its light shall mark with slanting beam,
When winds are hush'd at evening hour,
Where some loved pastor's bones shall rest,
And gild the stone upon his breast.

Here shall the wearied pilgrim come,
And lay his load of sorrow down,
And, bending o'er his father's tomb,

Shall pray for him a heavenly crown,
Whose simple faith shall wing its way
Through darkness to the realms of day.
Here, gathering o'er the winding plain,
In decent garb, and modest mien,
Each village hind and rustic swain

Shall on the Sabbath-day be seen,
Seeking for sin, and care, and grief,
Grace, absolution, and relief.

Religion here shall hold her sway,
Upon the actions, and the mind,
And, though her sternness be away,
Her mild persuasion still shall bind

The fiercer passions, and repress

The rising germs of wickedness.

Then, wafting upwards through the skies,
Bright, unembodied, pure and free,

A full and perfect sacrifice,

Souls chastened for eternity,

She shall present them at heaven's throne,
And God accept them for his own.

W. B

PROSPECTUS

OF AN INTENDED COURSE OF LECTURES ON THE
PHILOSOPHY OF HUMBUG.

BY PROFESSOR WOLFGANG VON BIBUNDTUCKER.

VARIOUS are the roads to immortality; but, however various, they admit of this classification,-the legitimate and the illegitimate; the former being applied to those cases where a man works out his own claim, and the latter where it is worked out for him by others, or by accidental circumstances. Sophroniscus would never have been heard of had he not accidentally begotten a son, Socrates; but Socrates wanted no accidental circumstance for his fame, except, perhaps, the trifling one of being born. However repugnant to my feelings illegitimacy may be, still, better that than nothing at all. Firmly impressed with this conviction, I hasten to achieve my immortality by communicating to the world the labours of my deceased friend, Professor Wolfgang von Bibundtücker, who, after a life of folio study, came over to England, made himself imperfectly acquainted with the language, and made every arrangement for the completion of the grand object of his life,the delivery of a "Course of Lectures on the Philosophy of Humbug." He chose England as the most fitting scene. Professor Bibundtücker had a most cosmopolitan spirit, and justly considering himself a denizen of the universe, intended to have spoken to the world at large through the medium of the "enlightened and liberal British public." But, alas! for the fate of Genius! Professor Wolfgang von Bibundtücker, like the horse of the experimentalist, who died just as he had been taught to live without food, as soon as he had completed every arrangement for making his fortune and his fame, died of starvation in a remote corner of the universe known as St. Giles-in-the-Fields! Many a time has the Professor laid down his meerschaum, and shaking his head with a Burleigh significance, said, "Ah! my dear sir, philosophy is a great thing, but want is a greater. Philosophy triumphs over the Past and the Future; but the Present-the Present, my dear sir, triumphs over it." It proved so, unfortunately for him.

Death is often a contretems-it was so with the Professor. He is gathered to the region where his progenitors awaited him; the living and rising generation suffered by his loss. The Professor was just the man to lecture on so important a subject. Earnest was he, and eloquent; subtle, yet profound; and, when warmed, not even Lord Brougham could have competed with him for invective. But he is gone from us, and all that remains of his life-devotedness is the Prospectus of his Lectures, and some few stray notes found among his pipelights! When my friend first announced to me his intention, I was more inclined to laugh than to enter into his views, but he checked all levity with a profound glance of his single eye, and then in a grave, but earnest manner, slowly unfolded his views.

"Humbug, sir," said he, "is the most universal of passions. It is the element by which we are supported in this breathing world. He that is most filled with it rises to the top, while the less fortunate sink to the bottom. Love, sir, was called by the Grecian sages-(a profound

nation the Greeks, and great Humbugs!)—the first of the gods,—meaning thereby to exclude Humbug from the highest rank. But they were wrong, sir, they were wrong. Humbug is more elemental than Love; for is not Love full of Humbug? I would ask of you, sir, is it not?"

"Without doubt," I replied.

"Of course it is, sir, of course it is. Once, sir, when I was a young man, with a great deal of philosophy, and great ignorance,-for I had little of that highest wisdom, Humbug,-I used to suppose that philosophy was the greatest thing in life; I used to suppose so, sir.” "And is it not?" I inquired, hurt at my ideas being thus outraged, "is it not?"

Professor Wolfgang von Bibundtücker smoked away furiously without uttering a syllable. I sat "breathless like a nun," expecting his 'reply.

46

You think it is," he at last replied. "You are young, sir, and will grow older, when you will learn, sir, that it is not. You will learn, sir, that so far from philosophy being the greatest thing in life, the greatest part of philosophy is Humbug, sir,-is Humbug." And he continued smoking with increasing vehemence.

"Then, Professor, why do you lecture on the Philosophy of Humbug?" I asked.

"Sir, I show my art in so doing-there is Humbug in the very amusement. The prevailing Humbug of the day amongst the millstone-visioned everythingarians, is philosophy; nothing goes down but philosophy. Teems not the press with it? Issue not works daily bearing the fine titles of Philosophy of Gardening, Philosophy of Health, Philosophy of Happiness, Philosophy of Travel, Philosophy of Fiction, Philosophy of Hair-cutting, &c.? Surely the scientific barber, deeply versed in all erudition and logical acumen of the curl-oblique, the curl ringlet, or the curl-sausage, or the metaphysics of wig and whisker, is entitled to the name of copos, and his art philosophy? May not the great pupils of the still greater Cocker call their labours in the addition and subtraction of figures, the Philosophy of Arithmetic? The age of dull and plodding common sense' has passed away,—and what a grand successor has sprung up! How the mind expands with delight and wonderment, as it reflects on that refinement of intellect now pervading all classes! Have not women an intense craving for the name of Sophia? We have now sucking philosophers and lisping logicians,-matter and motion in the cradle,-space and time (wasted) in the school-room,women theologians, and atheism at 'sweet seventeen.' Has not the 'Society' published an analysis of Bacon's Novum Organon, whereby the intellectual chimney-sweep (whom we may in organomic phraseology term one of the idola species, or 'idols of the garden ') will be enabled to philosophise and sweep chimneys on that grand method,' and the tailor to cabbage cloth by induction? This, sir, is the age of philosophy, consequently of Humbug; therefore, to give my lectures a title suited to the public taste, I call them the 'Philosophy of Humbug.' O si sic omnia! "

Such was the nature of his confidential outpourings on this subject. On me they made a deep impression; and nothing can exceed my regret at his not living to publicly enlighten us on this subject. The Prospectus, which I have still in my possession, written with his own dirty fingers, I here subjoin for the satisfaction of the world.

66

PROSPECTUS

OF AN INTENDED COURSE OF TWELVE LECTURES ON

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HUMBUG,

TO BE DELIVERED AT THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF LITERATURE,

BY PROFESSOR WOLFGANG VON BIBUNDTUCKER,
(OF BERLIN.)

"HUMBUG is as universal as light-all recognise it, all practise it to a greater or less extent-none understand it. To understand it, it must be considered as a science. Formulæ are required, as also data-of these mankind are ignorant. Professor Wolfgang von Bibundtücker has made it a study, it has been the study of his life, he has the formulæ and data, which these lectures are to be the medium of spreading over the civilized world.

"A clever writer has said, Deceit is the strong but subtle chain which runs through all the members of a society, and links them together; trick or be tricked is the alternative; 'tis the way of the world, and without it intercourse would drop.' Deceit is the daughter of Humbug-need more be said?

Humbug has fallen into disrepute because many ignorant pretenders (cdi profanum vulgus!) have taken to the practice without previously qualifying themselves. Why have they not succeeded? Because the Philosophy of it was to them a sealed hook! A sickle may be a very convenient instrument to clean hedges with; but it requires a steady hand and a razor for a chin.

"What is the fruit of all experience (that expensive schoolmaster), of all the boasted knowledge of the world, but to learn how to rule mankind?—and how can you rule mankind but by Humbug?

"Humbug is knowledge, and knowledge is Humbug; an antithesis worthy note. The science of flattery is one branch of the Philosophy of Humbug, and will be fully explained.

"In the course of twelve lectures every point of the Philosophy of Humbug will be developed, and rules laid down for the judicious practice of it, such as cannot fail to contribute towards the welfare of the individual in particular, and that of the world in general. Tickets for the course, Ten Guineas.

"Vivat Regina !"

Such is this extraordinary specimen,-a fresh indication of the "march of mind." To add a comment would be superfluous. The best I can do is to give what "notes" of these intended lectures I may have. Here they are.

"Humbug in emergencies-how useful.-Domitius Afer, the celebrated orator, a genius and a Humbug, on being publicly contradicted by Caligula, was silent, affecting to be overwhelmed by the tyrant's eloquence. Why, gentlemen, did he not try his accustomed rhetoric in defence? Because he was a humbug. Had he replied, he would I have lost his head."

I can fancy the Professor eloquently expanding on this illustration. Again-

"On the expression of opinion.-Always ascertain people's opinions, that you may regulate the expression of your own. Do not always