was born of parents so excessively poor that they could not afford to have him taught to read and write. After their death he went to Moscow, where he found an asylum with a pastry cook. He had a very fine voice, and soon became known in that city from the musical tone of his cry when selling his pastry in the street. His voice also gained him admission into the houses of many noblemen, and he was fortunate enough one day to be in the kitchen of a great lord with whom the emperor was to dine. While Menzikoff was there, the nobleman came into the kitchen, and gave directions about a particular dish, to which he said the emperor was very partial. Into this dish he dropped (as he thought unperceived) a powder. Menzikoff observed it; but, taking no notice, immediately left the house, and when he saw the emperor's carriage coming, he began to sing very loud. Peter, attracted by his voice, called him, and bought all the pies he had in his basket. He asked some questions of Menzikoff, and was so well pleased with his answers that he commanded him to follow him to the nobleman's house, and wait behind his chair. The servants were surprised at this order, but it proved of the greatest importance to Peter; for when the nobleman pressed his royal guest to take of this favourite dish, his new servant gently pulled him by the sleeve, and begged he would not touch it till he had spoken to him. The emperor immediately withdrew with Menzikoff, who informed his imperial master of his suspicions. The czar returned to the company, and, suddenly turning to his host, pressed him to partake of the favourite dish. Terrified at this command, he said, "It did not become the servant to eat before his master." The emperor then offered it to a dog, who greedily devoured

its contents, and shortly afterwards expired in the greatest torment.

The rise of Menzikoff was from that moment rapid beyond example. He was loaded with honours, and frequently appeared in public as vice-czar, the emperor assuming the rank of a private person. It is not surprising that so extraordinary and sudden an elevation should cause Menzikoff sometimes to forget that he was a man. His enemies trembled at his presence; for as his power was great, so was his revenge. After the death of his imperial master, to whom he was warmly attached, he remained faithful to Catherine; and upon her decease he placed the crown upon the head of Peter III., son of the unfortunate Alexis, and grandson to his benefactor. It is said he had formed the ambitious design of marrying his daughter to this young prince. The sun of prosperity, however, which had hitherto shone in meridian splendour upon Alexander Menzikoff, was now fast sinking into the darkest gloom. The Dolgoroukis, a noble family who hated him, were artful, pliable, and insinuating; Peter was young, unsuspicious, and easily imposed upon by the frank and apparently disinterested friendship of the younger branches of the family. The ruin of the man who had placed him upon the throne was now, at the instigation of the Dolgoroukis, resolved on, and the fall of Menzikoff was even more rapid than his rise. As he had seldom shown mercy, so little was shown to him. His banishment to Berezof was attended with every aggravation that could be imagined. Previous to his fatal sentence he had been deprived of his dignities, his pension, his employments. This blow was quickly followed by another: he was banished the court, and desired to confine himself to his country

house at Oranienburg. On his way thither, he was taken by a messenger, accompanied by a party of dragoons, who brought the fatal mandate of banishment to Siberia. Berezof is situated near the mouth of the Obi: during six months in the year there is no actual daylight, and the earth is covered with frost and snow. What a situation for persons who had been used to every luxury, every indulgence! The Princess Menzikoff died on the journey, and was buried on the banks of the Volga. She had always very weak eyes, and they were so affected by cold and her excessive weeping, that she lost her sight before half of the journey was completed. This unfortunate family were treated like the worst of criminals. Their dresses were twice changed, first to the coarsest woollen, then to the coarsest stuffs. After being used

to walk upon the softest carpets, clothed in the richest attire, and to travel with every possible convenience, they were now exposed to cold, and all the inclemencies of the weather, in small wooden carts which are made without springs, and which are always used to convey criminals to their place of exile. Menzikoff and one of his daughters lived to reach Berezof, but to end their days in that place of solitude.

When Menzikoff found his death approaching he called his children to his bedside, and thus addressed them: "My children, I draw near to my last hour, the thoughts of which have been familiar to me since I have been here, and would have nothing terrible in it if I had only to account to the Supreme Judge for the time I have passed in misfortune. Hitherto your hearts have been free from corruption. You will preserve your innocence better in these deserts than at court; but should you return to it, recollect the example which your father has given you here."

On the accession of the Empress Anne to the throne, Menzikoff's youngest daughter and his son returned to Russia; and the Dolgoroukis felt in their turn all the horrors they had contributed to inflict on the Menzikoffs, with this aggravation, that the same person who conducted them to Berezof carried with him the recall of Menzikoff and his family. The cold of this part of Siberia is so intense as to preclude the capability of culture, and the solitude so great that the poor exile sees only his fellow-sufferers in misery, except now and then a solitary Tartar, who may by chance pass near his dwelling on his way to Tobolsk, with his tribute of furs.

RUTH.

When Ruth was left half desolate,
Her father took another mate;
And Ruth not seven years old,
A slighted child, at her own will
Went wandering over dale and hill,
In thoughtless freedom bold.
And she had made a pipe of straw,
And from that oaten pipe could draw
All sounds of winds and floods;
Had built a bower upon the green,
As if she from her birth had been
An infant of the woods.

Beneath her father's roof, alone

She seemed to live; her thoughts her own;
Herself her own delight;

Pleased with herself, nor sad, nor gay,
She passed her time; and in this way
Grew up to woman's height.

There came a youth from Georgia's shore,A military casque he wore,

With splendid feathers dressed ;

He brought them from the Cherokees;
The feathers nodded in the breeze,

And made a gallant crest.

From Indian blood you

deem him sprung :

Ah! no, he spake the English tongue,

And bore a soldier's name; And, when America was free · From battle and from jeopardy, He 'cross the ocean came.

With lines of genius on his cheek,
In finest tones the youth could speak ;
While he was yet a boy,

The moon, the glory of the sun,
And streams that murmur as they run,
Had been his dearest joy.

He was a lovely youth! I guess
The panther in the wilderness

Was not so fair as he;

And, when he chose to sport and play,

No dolphin ever was so gay

Upon the tropic sea.

Among the Indians he had fought;
And with him many tales he brought
Of pleasure and of fear;

Such tales as, told to any maid
By such a youth in the green shade,
Were perilous to hear.