it between us into the moon-shine, and, sure enough, it was Mark Simmons with his brains knocked out."

66

Ay," said the Smasher, with a fearful grin; "he found a harder fist than mine, for, you know, I stood no chance with him."

"Ay, ay," returned the Swiller; "he must have found something harder than your fist certainly, but I am not sure that the sight of him was half so bad as the screeching of his old mother when we took him home. I wish you had only seen her, when she was left a lone woman, wandering about the dark lanes and bye places in search of her son who was all the time lying quietly in the church-yard. But, you know, you had sudden business in a distant part of the country, and did not return till the day she was buried herself. It was a sorrowful sight, wasn't it? Well, I suppose the murderer will never be discovered now, but I hope the first time he goes into Blackthorn Bushes, or Dead-man's Corner as it is now called, Mark's ghost will jump up to thank him, that's all.

The Smasher seized a horn of beer, and flung it into the story-teller's face with a boisterous laugh, which formed the prelude to the tale of the stocks before mentioned. This was succeeded by another very excellent one by the Tinker, and his, in turn, by three or four others, till our party grew so entertaining, that even the Skulker took courage. Before he had fairly started, however, he thought he heard some one coming up the ladder to the loft, and he never had heart to return to the thread of his story, which has, no doubt, long since been attached, with himself, to a thread of a very different description.

All these notable histories gave me a great ardour for deeds of darkness. I felt more proud of my band, because I found they were more finished miscreants than I took them for, and I was determined that they should

have an equal respect for the qualifications of their leader. With this view I manfully determined that they should not give me credit for being afraid of a ghost, and declared my positive intention of commencing operations in Dead-man's Corner. The hour had arrived-the beer was finished, and my lieutenant (Jep the Tinker) said that nothing remained but to settle the watch-word. The word which my tutor had been all day looking out in Lemprier's dictionary, and which previous circumstances had made me least likely to forget, was Julius Cæsar, and I thought it would be a good opportuntity to get it pat for my uncle's next visit-Julius Cæsar, therefore, was the word. Each man shouldered his cudgel and his share of the apparatus, and we marched warily forward in as dark a night as ever gladdened the heart of a highwayman.

If my reader has any desire to distinguish himself in the chivalric and reputable art of poaching, I earnestly recommend him to possess himself of the next number of the Album.

SOME ACCOUNT OF A LADY,

WHO LIVED MANY YEARS AFTER HER BURIAL.

THE Causes Celebres (a collection of French trials) are a mine of interesting histories, which novelists or dramatists may dig for centuries without exhausting. The following anecdote is a member of that family; in a romance it would be despised as frivolous. So true is it, that while in works of fiction we demand probability, the actual life around us is daily teeming with apparent impossibilities.

Two merchants of Paris, united by friendship, had each

a child of different sex. The boy and girl early contracted a strong attachment to each other, and flattered their youthful hearts with the hope of a lasting connexion. But when they imagined themselves on the eve of completing their union, another candidate for the lady's hand presented himself, a man advanced in years, but possessed of great wealth. The proposals of so affluent a suitor were, as usual, irresistible in the eyes of her parents, who compelled her to accept him. Once married, this excellent girl, with a virtue which we hope is not uncommon in France, dismissed her former lover for ever from her presence; but to command her mind was not so easy; the pangs of suppressed sorrow agitated her frame, she became the victim of a disorder which finally consigned her to the tomb. When the partner of her heart was apprized of this event, his grief was doubled, since even the hope of her widowhood was now snatched from him. Recollecting, however, that in her youth she had been for some time in a lethargy, he hurried to the grave, bribed the sexton's compliance, dug up the body, removed it to a place of security, and finally succeeded, by judicious efforts, in re-animating her cold and pallid form. What a moment for a human being, for a lover, hanging over all that was dear to him in the world! He saw the rose of life slowly bloom into her cheek; gradually, he felt her hand warm beneath his touch. With what astonishment, with what delight, did she open her eyes upon her beloved!— She had been torn from existence, and he had restored her to it in the silence of night, and the obscurity of a mean retreat, she awaked to sensation, to happiness, to him. Her lover urged his pretensions, and not in vain; it was a point for a casuist, but her inclination removed her doubts. To remain in France might not be safe. They

crossed the channel, and passed ten years in England-the exile's home-the resting place of every wanderer.

They at length experienced a strong desire to revisit their native country, and imagined that it might be safely gratified. By a singular misfortune the lady was soon encountered on a public walk by her former husband, who recognised the wife he had lost in spite of all her efforts to prevent the discovery. He claimed her in a court of justice, but the lover resisted his demand, alleging that his title was forfeited by the burial, and that a new one had been acquired by the person who had rescued her from a premature fate. This plea, however, appeared to have little weight on the opinions of the judges; and, anticipating an unfavourable decision, the luckless pair bade a second and an eternal farewell to the land of their fathers.

THE DEPARTURE OF THE ARGONAUTS FOR THE GOLDEN FLEECE.

[From the Greek of Apollonius Rhodius.]

Pelias, king of Thessaly, fearful of being dethroned by Jason, the rightful heir to the crown, commanded him to procure the Golden Fleece, believing that he must perish during the expedition to obtain it.

WHEN busy menials had prepar'd with speed
All stores that much-enduring seamen need,
While wand'ring far across the billowy main,
Then to their vessel mov'd the valiant train;

And thro' the city bent their way, to reach,
Magnesian Pagasa *, thy far-fam❜d beach;
Radiant their beauty 'mid the thronging crowd,
As stars refulgent in a sable cloud.

*

*

His frantic mother clasp'd the youthful chieft,
And all her maidens melted at her grief.
Deep-groaning, on his couch did Æson lie,
And veil'd his hoary head from every eye,
While, seen distinctly through each close-drawn fold,
His heaving frame his bitter anguish told.
But Jason tries their fainting hearts to raise,
And speaks, in cheering tone, of happier days;
Then bids the sorrowing slaves his mail prepare;
Silent, with downcast looks, the glittering load they bear.
As first her arms around her child she flung,
Still on his neck the weeping mother hung;-
(So runs an orphan girl to hide her face,
Lamenting, in her nurse's fond embrace,
Of all protecting kindred now bereft,
And to a step-dame's cruel malice left:
To her how slow the heavy hours go by,
Poor victim of domestic tyranny;

Her heart is grown a prison'd fount of grief,
And tears and sobs afford but slight relief,

Nor ease her lab'ring breast, that fain would know,
A long unbroken burst of gushing woe;)-
So still her son the weeping mother strain'd
Close to her throbbing heart, and thus complain'd;
"Why did I live another morn to see ;

"When Pelias' tongue pronounc'd the dire decree?

* Pagasa, a town and promontory of Thessaly, near which the Argo was built.

The youthful chief-Jason.