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much he would infuse a little additional energy into the motions of his legs and arms. There is, in particular, a want of decision in the manner in which he moves his arms;-let him give them a freer swing, and a bolder scope. action at present is what a Frenchman would call trop coupé. The songs in which he principally distinguished himself were the barcarole "Take heed," and the beautiful melody, "My sister dear." In the mad scene, too, where he sings snatches of different airs, he was very successful. We hesitate not to say, that we have now greater hopes of Mr Wilson than we had before.

Probably the finest music of this opera is arranged for the choruses, and Mr Murray has more than surprised us by the very excellent band of chorus-singers he has contrived to muster. Certain folks have been raving of late about the operatic force at the Caledonian Theatre, which is middling enough after all, or if it is first-rate, then at the Theatre Royal it is more than first-rate, for we defy the Caledonian people, with all their strength, to sing either the barcarole or the Market chorus, as it is sung at the other house. Be it remarked, however, that it is not upon this point that we rest the infinite superiority of the one establishment over the other.-Miss Phillips, as Donna Elvira, sings as well as she can, which is pretty well; and Miss Tunstall, with her high clear pipe, is both of great use in the choruses, and introduces a pretty Tyrolese air, "Green hills of Tyrol," which does not belong to the opera at all. The Market chorus is the most striking composition of the whole. It catches the ear at once, like the Hunter's Chorus in the " Freischutz," and bids fair to become almost as popular. Having said so much of the music of Masaniello, which we consider fully as good as any that has been written since the death of Weber, it is but justice to add, that the Manager has taken care to give full effect to the melo-dramatic department. The new scenery and dresses are excellent, and the eruption of Vesuvius, with which the piece concludes, is managed with much splendour. Miss Jarman plays Masaniello's sister, "The dumb girl," and of course does the part every justice. The piece altogether is entitled to great praise.

It is a curious fact, that the same gentleman whom we rebuked lately for his too great partiality to the Caledonian Theatre, and who spoke of the "rich and chaste humour" of the performers there, has recently found out that they are almost all Cockneys, and thus expresseth himself concerning them :-" Truth to say, it is only the exceptions who do not sport Donnar and Mariar, with most of the other flowers of the Cockney vocabulary." Our excellent friend is evidently coming round to the true faith, and we are glad we did not give him the shake

we meditated.

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"Who seeks the general weal, secures his own"Such the arch-precept of the latest school Of Ethical discovery-alone

Varying in sound from the Athenian's rule. The gentle creed of Nazareth is full

Of a like spirit-fairer and more freeThen cease to cry Eureka! haste and cool Thy crazed disciples' neophytic glee, Utilitarian Priest-word-wedding Jeremy!

Who doubts the maxim of the Benthamites?
'Tis co-existent with the human soul,
And of its shrine one of the sacred lights-

Though oft-times clouded by the gross control
Of the dust's opaque demon-he, the sole

Keeper of the multitudinous cells, Wherein earth's anticks, miserably droll,

Make mouths at Heaven to smirking Folly's bells, Shaming the voiceless brute that in the desert dwells.

In morals 'tis an axiom-here-even here—

Upon this slippery "bank and shoal of time," With hell-fire in abeyance-noon -day clear,—

The worst like not to be the sport of crime, Drench'd with their own foul vintage-every clime To sins peculiar adds their punishment— The unity of Justice is sublime

I should have said of Mercy-for 'tis meant To urge them back to peace, whose steps are woward bent.

And dismal were this globe were it not so!
'Tis bad enough; but it is Paradise,
Compared to what it would be, were there no
Terrestrial scourge for the salt blood of Vice-
Lust, flame-respiring, homicidal Pride,

And all our household devils running wild, Would roam, high-fed and rampant, far and wide, Making that hideous, yet but half defiled, Trampling each shoot of good on arid life that smiled.

Of sermonizing we have had enough—

If this besotted land will not awaken, It is not framed of penetrable stuff

Cobbett himself hath to the rostrum taken, Teaching Britannia how to save her bacon—

Cool Owen lauds his parallelogram With pertinacity, by sneers unshaken

And would therein all sorts of people cram, Penning, in common fold, ass, lion, wolf, and lamb.

But Ill will keep its throne, till doomsday steal,
Thief-like, upon the prowlers of the world;
They who to abstract equity appeal,

Will find the general lip derisive, curl'd.
In vain, Philanthropy! thy flag's unfurl'd

On distant Harmony's Millennian heights; Dissension's blazing brands shall still be hurl'd,

And maugre all that honest Bentham writes, Laws will be Knavery's tools, and suitors hapless wights.

Marshal, Old Truepenny! a chosen band,

And let them furnish practice to thy preachingActions, the shallowest brain can understand,

Examples, the sure mode of moral teaching— Proclaim a truce to threatening and beseeching, In streets and highways plant each partisan, Purified from the itch for over-reaching,

Sworn foes to every ceco-selfish plan, Warm and unflinching friends to the old house of man.

And then" God speed the cause!" pray I for oneA worthier never link'd true hearts togetherThe faint may fall before the harvest's done

The stoutest hardly brave the wayward weather.

I

But more than Mammon's gem, or Honour's feather, Shall the survivors of the field repay,

When Sorrow's children round a glad hearth gather,

To speak of those who chased their griefs away—— Who flinty Custom crush'd that ground them in the clay.

A SONG,

Not entirely Bacchanalian.

To Woman!-a bumper! come pledge me, my boys,
And pledge me with heart and with soul;
Give the pedant his learning, the statesman his toys,
But ours be the smile and the bowl!

Though it needs not the glow of the generous cup

To make woman's presence divine,

Yet, where bumpers are drunk, be the highest fill'd up To the Goddess who hallows the wine!

We love the dark juice of the ruby-hued grape,

For the bright thoughts it wreaths round the brain, Like the stars which at twilight from bondage escape, And come forth in the blue sky again; But the thought of all thoughts is of her we love best, The fond one whose heart is our own,

A thought whose effulgence obscures all the rest, As the sun walks through heaven alone!

Then to her, boys, to her be the bumper now crown'd, With feelings which tongue cannot tell ;

If the tone of her voice be a magical sound,
If the glance of her eye be a spell;

If the flush of her cheek be the fairest of sights,
If her lip be the holiest shrine,

Then, believe me, the toast which her beauty invites, Turns to gold every drop of our wine!

If life be a good, 'tis to her that we owe it,—
If genius a gift, 'tis that she is the theme,-

If love be a bliss, 'tis through her that we know it,—
O! without her this world were a wearisome dream!
Then, a bumper! a bumper! if ever you fill'd it,

A bumper to her, both our hope and our pride!
A scheme for the future-if ever you build it—
Fill a bumper to woman and make her your guide!
H. G. B.

SOLITUDE-A SONNET.

WITH silence for my comrade, and the chance
Of varying moods and scenes to be my guide,
Again let me ascend thy rugged side,
Paternal mountain! and in joy advance
Along thy ridges, where the wild-flowers dance
To the wind's music,-where the vapours glide
Slowly at noon-tide, or in stillness bide
In thy deep clefts, as in a holy trance,

Which the wide skies and landscape share with them!
Blessed reward, my upward toil shall crown;
And though I wait till th' evening sun go down,

Yet for no loss of time shall truth condemn ;'Tis not in labour only and in strife That hearts acquire their wisdom and their life. E. O. B.

LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES.

Sir John Sinclair has a work in the press likely to prove exceedingly interesting. It is to consist of his Correspondence with all the most distinguished Personages of his Time, together with his own personal Reminiscences of them. In this work will be included Letters from many of the crowned heads of Europe, from the most distinguished statesmen, both of this and other countries, and from a great variety of literary characters of the highest eminence.

OUR readers will learn with pleasure, that Mrs Hemans is preparing another volume for publication. It will probably be called Songs of the Affections, and will include much not originally classed under that title in the Magazines or other periodicals to which Mrs He. mans contributes.

Among a list of seventy-six new works announced by Messrs Colburn and Bentley, we observe the following:-Wedded Life in the Upper Ranks.-The Oxonians, or a Glance at Society.-Personal Memoirs of Pryce L. Gordon, Esq.-The Heiress of Bruges; a Tale, by the author of "Highways and Byways."-Travels in Kamtchatka, Siberia, and China, by Peter Dobell, Esq.-The 3d and 4th volumes of Commentaries on the Life and Reign of Charles I., by I. D'Israeli, Esq.-New works by the authors of " Brambletye House," "Sayings and Doings," "Tales of the O'Hara Family," and "Flirtation."-East and West, by one of the authors of "Rejected Addresses."-Musical Memoirs, from 1784 to 1829, by W. T. Parke.An Account of the Subversion of the Constitution in Portugal by Don Miguel, by Lord Porchester.-Notes on Haiti, by C. Mackenzie, Esq.The Tuileries, an Historical Romance.-The Life of Titian, by J. Northcote, Esq. R.A.-A General and Heraldic Dictionary of the Commoners of England, qualified by landed property to become County Members of Parliament, but undistinguished by any hereditary title of honour.-Stories from the old Chronicles, by the late Barry St. Leger, Esq.-The Life of John Hampden, by Lord Nugent.-A New Tale of the Sea, by the author of the "Red Rover," &c.-Letters from Switzerland and Italy, by John Carne, Esq -The Private Correspondence of John Pinkerton, Esq., edited by Dawson Turner, Esq.-Basil Barrington and his friends.-The King's Own, a Tale of the Sea.-The Life and Works of Henry Fuseli, by John Knowles, Esq.-Memoirs of Sir James Campbell of Ardkinglass, written by himself. The Spanish Novelists, by Thomas Roscoe, Esq.-The History of the Bible, by the Rev. G. R. Gleig.-St James's, a Satirical Poem.

Valence, the Dreamer, a Poem, by John Phillips, M.A., is announ

ced.

The Pensce, a selection of original poetry, by a Young Lady, is in the press.

Captain Sherer is engaged with a Life of the great Gustavus of Sweden.

M. de Chateaubriand has announced a new work on the state of France, which will appear shortly.

MR YANIEWICZ'S CONCERT.-This concert took place in the Hopetoun Rooms, on Tuesday last. It laboured under the disad vantage of being a Morning Concert, which, in this city, is always a dull affair. It was well attended, but the audience were cold and listless. Why they should have been so, we do not exactly know, for much of the music was excellent. Though Mr Yaniewicz is not so brilliant a violinist as Murray, he is perhaps his superior in delicacy of expression, and his two solos were very admirable specimens of his abilities. Miss Yaniewicz is a mistress of the The piano-forte, and Miss Paulina not inferior at the harp. Misses Patons exerted themselves with their usual success; and Mr Boyle, who made his first appearance in Edinburgh, if he did not electrify, at all events, proved himself a sweet and pleasing singer.

THE LATE HUGH WILLIAMS.-We understand that this lamented artist left behind him a very valuable and complete collection of all the drawings made by him when in Greece, and, that they may be made serviceable to the public, and the profession, it is the inteution of his executors, we believe, to offer them at a fair price to the directors of the Royal Institution in this city, who will probably willingly avail themselves of the opportunity to make so interesting a purchase.

MR KNOWLES'S LECTURES.-We have been astonished to find that these lectures have not as yet been very crowdedly attended, and can attribute it only to the more than usual number of gaieties which have this week distracted public attention. We certainly know of none who could give to the important subject of dramatic literature a higher degree of interest than that with which Mr Knowles invests it, whether we regard the fine genius which he brings to bear upon it from the stores of his own mind, or the admirable manner in which he illustrates his remarks by his powers of elocution, as exemplified in his readings and recitations. Every lecture is full of varied attractions, but we are inclined to believe that the three he has yet to deliver-to-day, on Monday, and Wednesday-will be the most popular of all, because they relate almost exclusively to the modern drama, and will be enriched by many anecdotes and illustrations, which, from the lips of the author of "Virginius," come to us with tenfold force. We seriously advise those who take an interest in the drama, not to deprive themselves of the present opportunity of hearing it discussed by a master of the art. We are willing to stake our own credit that they will not be disappointed.

ELOCUTION. (From our Glasgow Correspondent.)-While you are enjoying in Edinburgh the admirale disquisitions of Mr Knowles upon an art he so much excels in-the DRAMATIC-We are led to anticipate, in this city, at least one pleasant evening in the deve

lopement of some new principles in another art, to the study of which he was the first to give an impulse among us,-namely, Elocution. Mr Knowles, since he gave up being an instructor here, in the Art of Reading, has been followed by many ambitious of being his successor. Of course, few could justly aspire to be so; but, from the appearance of a Mr J. H. Aitken, a protegé of Dr Chaliners, who announces himself as about to lecture in this town, after having devoted seven years to the study, and reduced its principles to just that number of rules, we hope a fresh impulse may be given to the study of so delightful an accomplishment.

CHIT CHAT FROM LONDON.-It is said that Messrs Colburn and Bentley are about to commence a new work on the plan of the Family Library and Constable's Miscellany.-A new Sunday newspaper, called The Intelligence, has made its appearance, under the auspices, it is believed, of the Treasury.-The exhibition of pictures by the Society of British Artists, opened a few days ago, and is better than it has ever hitherto been.-The London Literary Union already extends to 800 members; but what its distinct purposes are, is not yet generally made public.-Mr Westmacott has now concluded his course of lectures on sculpture, all of which have been received with much applause.-Mr Brougham is said to be in a very preca. rious state of health.-The ensuing exhibition of pictures at Somerset House is to be enriched by eight pictures by the late Sir Thomas Lawrence; and at the close of the present exhibition in the British Institution, the gallery is to be filled with his most finished productions, to be exhibited to the public.-Mr O'Connell has left London to attend his duties in a cause (Blackwood v. Blackwood,) in which he is retained with a fee of 800 guineas.-A new dioramic exhibition, containing views of Venice, of the Pass of Briançon, the Thames Tunnel, and the interior of Durham Cathedral, has been recently opened. What occupies one-half of London? a dun. What occupies more than one-half of Paris? un ris.

THEATRICAL GOSSIP.-At Drury Lane, Kean has been playing Hamlet with great eclat. Two new farces have also been produced successfully, the one called Popping the Question," and the other, "Perfection, or the Lady of Munster;" the latter is by the popular At this theatre, likewise, a song-writer, Thomas Haynes Bayly. new singer of the name of Anderson has made a favourable impres sion on the public-The London critics differ as to the merits of Miss Kemble's Portia; but they seem generally to agree that her father's Shylock was very bad. Miss Kemble, whatever be her talents, has been the chief means of adding to the treasury of Covent Garden a sum excceding L.25,000, in about seventy performances. Her own salary is only L.10 per night.-As Drury Lane has no lessee at present, it has been suggested that either Mathews or Macready should enter upon the speculation next season.-A new opera is in preparation at Drury Lane, in which it is said that Miss Stephens, Vestris, Sinclair, Phillips, and the new singer Anderson, will all have parts. A new Italian opera is reported to be in preparation at the King's Theatre, which has the novel attraction of being the entire work of an English amateur.-A gentleman of the name of Goldsmid, a name well known in the commercial world, is about to appear on the London stage as a comic actor; his abilities are highly spoken of.-At a meeting of the friends of Mr Arnold, on Monday, a plan for rebuilding the English Opera house was submitted to them. It was found that, on the most moderate computation, it could not be rebuilt for less than 40,0002.; of which it was intended to raise 30,000l. by debentures of 2507. each. Ten thousand pounds were subscribed in the room, and the whole sum, it is computed, will be subscribed in a fortnight. The English operatic company will open in the Adelphi. Before this, however, Mr Mathews will give his annual entertainment-a new one; and the Elephant will be marched off to the country.-It would seem, that the seduisante Sontag still adds to her other attractions that of being a spinster. Count Rossi, her alleged husband, has written to some of the French papers to deny the "soft impeachment" of ever having held any lordship over her but that of love! She arrived at Berlin a few days ago, and is now singing there.-Hummel, the pianist and composer, has arrived in Paris, where he is to give several concerts before setting out for London.-Miss Smithson is going to play pantomime and melo-drama in Paris, for which her talents are certainly much more adapted than for the higher walks of either tragedy or comedy.-Macready has repeated, with increased success, his performance of Werner in Dublin, where Miss Kemble is shortly to appear.-T. P. Cooke is at Glasgow, and will come here immediately on the termination of Liston's engagement, which commences on Monday.-Miss Jarman takes for her benefit this evening the play of "Know your own Mind," and the operatic mélo-drama of "Masaniello." The house will be crowdedly attended.-The following is the Farewell Address, written for Mrs Henry Siddons by Sir Walter Scott, and delivered by her on Monday last:

The curtain drops-the mimic scene is past-
One word remains-the saddest and the last;
A word which oft in careless mood we say,
When parting friends have pass'd a social day;
As oft pronounced in agony of heart,
When friends must sever, or when lovers part;

Or o'er the dying couch in whispers spoken,
When the frail thread of life is all but broken-
When all that ear can list, or tongue can tell,
Are the last mournful accents, Fare-ye-well!
Such is the spell the Actress must divide
From duties long her pleasure and her pride:
So brief the syllables that must bid adieu
To public life-to Scotland-and to you-
To hopes to doubts-to efforts-and to fears,
And all the business of my scenic years.
Yet ere we part-and even now a tear
Bedims my eye to think our parting near-
Fain would I speak, how deeply in my breast
Will the remembrance of your kindness rest→→→
Fain would I tell, but words are cold and weak:
It is the heart, the heart alone can speak!
The wanderer may rejoice to view, once more,
The smiling aspect of her native shore;
Yet oft, in mingled dreams of joy and pain,
She'll think she sees this beauteous land again:
And then, as now, will fond affection trace
The kindness that endear'd her dwelling-place.
Now then it must be said, though from my heart
The mournful accents scarcely will depart;
Lingering, as if they fear'd to break some spell—
It must be utter'd !-Friends, kind friends, farewell!
One suit remains ;-you will not scorn to hear
The last my lips shall falter on your ear-
When I am far, my Patrons, oh! be kind
To the dear relative I leave behind!

SAT.
MON.
TUES.

WED.
THURS.
FRI.

He is your own, and like yourselves may claim
A Scottish origin-a Scottish name.
His ripen'd talents-let the truth be told-
A Sister in a Brother's cause is bold-
Shall cater for your eve of leisure still,
With equal ardour and improving skill.
And though too oft the poor performers' lot
Is but to bloom, to fade, and be forgot,
Whene'er the mimic sceptre they resign,
A gentler destiny I feel is mine;
For, as the Brother moves before your eyes,
Some memory of the Sister must arise;
And in your hearts a kind remembrance dwell,
Of Her who once again sighs forth-Farewell!
WEEKLY LIST OF PERFORMANCES.

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ber.

ENIGME

Sur la belle Prisonnière d'Edimbourg.

Je commence à vieillir, et suis un peu flétrie;
Quant à la chair, aux os, je n'en eus de ma vie.
Cependant, tous les jours, d'une foule d'amants,
Je reçois de vifs, doux, et tendres compliments.
Eprise de la gloire, avide de conquêtes,

Je ne songeais qu'aux jeux, qu'aux triomphes, qu'aux fêtes,
Lorsqu' une apre rivale, envieuse de moi,
Par de lâches détours me fit subir sa loi.
Quoique proscrite, esclave, oisive et languissante,
Chacun me trouve encore aimable, intéressante;
Et tel est le pouvoir de mes charmes vainqueurs,
Que, comme Hélène qui subjugua tant de cœurs,
Sans les nombreux Argus, dont je suis entourée,
Je serais en danger d'être un jour enlevée.

G. S., Nelson Street.

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EDINBURGH LITERARY JOURNAL;

OR,

WEEKLY REGISTER OF CRITICISM AND BELLES LETTRES.

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THE

TO OUR READERS.

HERE is as pleasant a number of the Literary Journal as one could wish to read on an April day. We have taken advantage of a temporary dearth of new works of interest, to supply our friends with an assortment of miscellaneous articles on various subjects,

some grave, and some gay,-some instructive, and some amusing, but all possessed of a degree of merit rarely met with in any other periodical now existing. If there be any one who turns away in morose dissatisfaction from the perusal of this sheet of royal octavo, we can only say of him, in the words of Shakspeare, "Let no such man be trusted."

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ALARIC WATIS.

"By St Agatha! I believe there is something in the shape of a tear in those dark eyes of mine, about which the women rave so unmercifully," said the young Fitzclarence, as, after an absence of two years, he came once more in sight of his native village of Malhamdale. He stood upon the neighbouring heights, and watched the curling smoke coming up from the cottage chimneys in the clear blue sky of evening, and he saw the last beams of the setting sun, playing upon the western walls of his father's old baronial mansion, and, a little farther off, he could distinguish the trees and pleasure-grounds of Sir Meredith Appleby's less ancient seat. Then he thought of Julia Appleby, the baronet's only child, his youthful playmate, his first friend, and his first love; and as he thought of her, he sighed. I wonder why he sighed! When they parted two years before, sanctioned and encouraged by their respective parents, (for there was nothing the old people wished more than a union between the families,) they had sworn eternal fidelity, and plighted their hearts irrevocably to each other. Fitzclarence thought of all this, and again he sighed. Different people are differently affected by the same things. After so long an absence, many a man would, in the exuberance of his feelings, have thrown himself down upon the first bed of wild-flowers he came to, and spouted long speeches to himself out of all known plays. Our hero preferred indulging in the following little soliloquy:-"My father will be amazingly glad to see me," said he to himself;" and so will my mother, and so will my old friend the antediluvian butler Morgan ap-Morgan, and so will the pointer-bitch Juno, and so will my pony Troilus ;-a pretty figure, by-the-by, I should cut now upon Troilus, in this gay military garb of mine, with my sword rattling between his legs, and my white plumes streaming in the air like a rainbow over him! And Sir Meredith Appleby, too, with his great gouty leg, will hobble through the room in ecstacy as soon as I present myself before him ;

PRICE 6d.

-and Julia-poor Julia, will blush, and smile, and come flying into my arms like a shuttlecock. Heigho!—I am a very miserable young officer. The silly girl loves me; her imagination is all crammed with hearts and darts; she will bore me to death with her sighs, and her tender glances, and her allusions to time past, and her hopes of time to come, and all the artillery of a love-sick child's brain. What, in the name of the Pleiades, am I to do? I believe I had a sort of penchant for her once, when I was a mere boy in my nurse's leading-strings; I believe I did give her some slight hopes at one time or other; but, now-O! Rosalind! dear-delightful"

Here his feelings overpowered him, and pulling a miniature from his bosom, he covered it with kisses. Sorry am I to be obliged to confess that it was not the miniature of Julia.

"But what is to be done?" he at length resumed."The poor girl will go mad; she will hang herself in her garters; or drown herself, like Ophelia, in a brook under a willow. And I shall be her murderer! I, who have never yet knocked on the head a single man in the field of battle, will commence my warlike operations by breaking the heart of a woman. By St Agatha! it must not be; I must be true to my engagement. Yes! though I become myself a martyr, I must obey the dictates of hoForgive me, Rosalind, heavenliest object of my adoration! Let not thy Fitzclarence"

nour.

Here his voice became again inarticulate; and, as he winded down the hill, nothing was heard but the echoes of the multitudinous kisses he continued to lavish on the little brilliantly-set portrait he held in his hands.

Next morning, Sir Meredith Appleby was just in the midst of a very sumptuous breakfast, (for, notwithstanding his gout, the Baronet contrived to preserve his appetite,) and the pretty Julia was presiding over the tea and coffee at the other end of the table, immediately opposite her papa, with the large long-eared spaniel sitting beside her, and ever and anon looking wistfully into her face, when a servant brought in, on a little silver tray, a letter for Sir Meredith. The old gentleman read it aloud; it was from the elder Fitzclarence : "My dear friend, Alfred arrived last night. He and I will dine with you to-day. Yours, Fitzclarence."--Julia's cheeks grew first as white as her brow, and then as red as her lips. As soon as breakfast was over, she retired to her own apartment, whither we must, for once, take the liberty of following her.

She sat herself down before her mirror, and deliberately took from her hair a very tasteful little knot of fictitious flowers, which she had fastened in it when she rose. One naturally expected that she was about to replace this ornament with something more splendid-a few jewels, perhaps; but she was not going to do any such thing. She rung the bell; her confidential attendant, Alice, answered the summons. "La! Ma'am," said she, "what is the matter? You look as ill as my aunt Bridget."-" You have heard me talk of Alfred Fitzclarence, Alice, have you not?" said the lady, languidly, and at the same time slightly blushing. "O! yes, Ma'am, I think I have. He was to be married to you before he went to the wars."

"He has returned, Alice, and he will break his heart if he
finds I no longer love him. But he has been so long away;
and Harry Dalton has been so constantly with me; and
his tastes and mine are so congenial;-I'm sure you
know, Alice, I am not fickle, but how could I avoid
it? Harry Dalton is so handsome, and so amiable!".
"To be sure, ma'am, you had the best right to choose for
yourself; and so Mr Fitzclarence must just break his
heart if he pleases, or else fight a desperate duel with Mr
Dalton, with his swords and guns."-" O! Alice, you
frighten me to death. There shall be no duels fought for me.
Though my bridal bed should be my grave, I shall be true
to my word. The bare suspicion of my inconstancy would
turn poor Alfred mad. I know how he doats upon me.
I must go to the altar, Alice, like a lamb to the slaughter.
Were I to refuse him, you may depend upon it he would
put an end to his existence with five loaded pistols. Only
think of that, Alice; what could I say for myself, were his
remains found in his bed some morning?" History does
not report what Alice said her mistress might, under such
circumstances, say for herself; but it is certain that they
remained talking together till the third dinner-bell rang.

The Fitzclarences were both true to their engagements, but notwithstanding every exertion on the part of the two old gentlemen, they could not exactly bring about that "flow of soul" which they had hoped to see animating the young people. At length, after the cloth was removed, and a few bumpers of claret had warmed Sir Meredith's heart, he said boldly," Julia, my love, as Alfred does not seem to be much of a wine-bibber, suppose you show him the improvements in the gardens and hot-houses, whilst we sexagenarians remain where we are, to drink to the health of both, and talk over a few family matters." Alfred, thus called upon, could not avoid rising from his seat, and offering Julia his arm. She took it with a blush, and they walked off together in silence. "How devotedly he loves me!" thought Julia, with a sigh. "No, no, I cannot break his heart."-" Poor girl!" thought Alfred, bringing one of the curls of his whiskers more killingly over his cheek; "her affections are irrevocably fixed upon me; the slightest attention calls to her face all the roses of Sharon."

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They proceeded down a long gravel walk, bordered on both sides with fragrant and flowery shrubs; but, except that the pebbles rubbed against each other as they passed over them, there was not a sound to be heard. Julia, however, was observed to hem twice, and we have been told that Fitzclarence coughed more than once. At length the lady stopped, and plucked a rose. Fitzclarence stopped also, and plucked a lily. Julia smiled; so did Alfred. Julia's smile was chased away by a sigh; Alfred immediately sighed also. Checking himself, however, he saw the absolute necessity of commencing a conversation. "Miss Appleby!" said he at last. "Sir ?" "Yes; Alfred

ture! It is all over with me! The murder is out! Lord bless me! Julia, how pale you have grown ; yet hear me ! be comforted. I am a very wretch; but I shall be faith. ful; do not turn away, love; do not weep; Julia! Julia! what is the matter with you?-By Jove! she is in hys. terics; she will go distracted! Julia! I will marry you. I swear to you by"

"Do not swear by any thing at all," cried Julia, unable any longer to conceal her rapture, "lest you be transported for perjury. You are my own-my very best Alfred!"

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"Mad, quite mad," thought Alfred.

"I wear a miniature too," proceeded the lady; and she pulled from the loveliest bosom in the world the likeness, set in brilliants, of a youth provokingly handsome, but not Fitzclarence.

"Julia!"
"Alfred!"

"We have both been faithless!"
"And now we are both happy."

"By St Agatha ! I am sure of it. Only I cannot help wondering at your taste, Julia; that stripling has actually no whiskers!"

"Neither has my cousin Rosalind; yet you found her resistless."

"Well, I believe you are right; and, besides, de gus tibus-I beg your pardon, I was going to quote Latin."

SPRING HOURS IN PERE LA CHAISE.

JADED as I was in body and mind by the gaieties of a Parisian winter, the first vernal buds which studded the trees growing into my windows, on one of the most fre quented divisions of the Boulevards, were welcomed as harbingers of a season that promised repose. My object in going abroad had been to see life; and in the Parisian saloons humanity may be studied in all its varieties. Unflinchingly did I follow the giddy round of fashionable entertainments. How strange! that he who once wooed retirement, and thought himself devoted to solitude, should take pleasure in a career so new, so much at variance with quiet habits! But my life was more one of observation than of actual enjoyment. If I mingled in the dance, or seated myself at the card-table, it was less for the pleasure these amusements yielded, than for the opportunity they afforded of indulging my favourite propensity-the study of character. So much had I become immersed in this dissipation, so interesting was the mighty book Nature opened up to me, that I no longer heeded aught unconnected with my immediate engagements. Books, home, friends--all were neglected. My habits were thoroughly changed. Time flew on-week hurried after week, month after month. The gleaming of " some bright particular star," as I stepped into my cabriolet long past midnight; a glance at the fair moon, as I waited till the drowsy porter answered our imperious summons-was the only intercourse I held with that lovely firmament, on which I had erst bestowed whole nights of contemplation.

"It is two years, I think, since we parted."two years on the fifteenth of this month." was silent. "How she adores me!" thought he; "she can tell to a moment how long it is since we last met." -There was a pause." You have seen, no doubt, a great deal since you left Malhamdale ?" said Julia. But winter was now about to terminate, and the first "O a very great deal," replied her lover. Miss Ap- glimpse of reviving vegetation reproachfully carried me pleby hemmed once more, and then drew in a vast back to Scotland-" her hazel and her hawthorn glade” mouthful of courage. "I understand the ladies of Eng--to that country life which long habit had rendered land and Ireland are much more attractive than those dearer than that which I had recently led. Like the of Wales."-" Generally speaking, I believe they are."- sight of land to the unaccustomed voyager, the early signs "Sir!""That is-I mean, I beg your pardon-the of spring gave hope of respite from the new labour to truth is I should have said-that-that-you have drop- which I had condemned myself. I began to long for a ped your rose.' Fitzclarence stooped to pick it up; but look at nature, and sighed to breathe a purer air than can in so doing, the little miniature which he wore round be inspired amid those " exhalations" of a large city, so his neck escaped from under his waistcoat, and, though feelingly anathematized by Cowley. With him I was he did not observe it, it was hanging conspicuous on his ready to exclaimbreast, like an order, when he presented the flower to Julia. "Good heavens! Fitzclarence, that is my cousin Rosalind !"

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"Your cousin Rosalind! where? how?-the minia

"Who that has reason and has smell,
Would not amidst roses and jasmine dwell ?"

It is true, that the rose and jasmine were not yet to be

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