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was no more the strength of youth in his limbs; he sank into a hollow melancholy, and evidently faded away. A deep sadness took place of his despair, and a silent sorrow hallowed the memory of his beloved! He had Josepha's chamber left in the same state in which it was before her death. On a work-table lay her needlework, and in the corner was her harp, silent and untouched. Every evening did Sellner go on a pilgrimage to this sanctuary of his love, took his flute, leaned, as in the times past of his happiness, on the window, and breathed, in mournful tones, his regret for the beloved shade!

Once he stood thus, lost in fancy, in Josepha's chamber. A clear moonlight night wafted to him its gentle breezes through the open window, and from a neighbouring castle tower the watchman called the hour of nine-the harp woke its tones again, as if swept by the breath of a spirit. Strangely surprised, he let his flute be still, and with it ceased the echo of the harp. He sang now with deep emotion Josepha's favourite air; and louder and stronger did the strings resound the melody, while their tones accorded in perfect unison! He sank in joyous emotion on the earth, and spread his arms to embrace the beloved shade. Suddenly he felt himself breathed on, as if by the warm breath of spring, and a pale and glimmering light flew over him! Strongly inspired, he called out,

"I know thee, beloved shade of my sainted Josepha ! Thou didst promise to hover o'er me with thy love, and that promise thou hast fulfilled. I feel thy breath-thy kisses on my lip; I feel myself embraced by thy glory!

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With deeper bliss he seized anew the flute; and the harp sounded again, but yet lower and lower, until its whispers dissolved

in distant and indistinct sounds!

Sellner's whole faculties were powerfully excited by the apparition of this evening; he threw himself, restless, on his bed, and in his feverish dreams the whispers of the harp yet called on him again. He awoke late; and harassed with the phantasies of the night, he felt his whole being wondrously affected; and a voice was alive in him, which was the anticipation of a speedy dissolution, and which indicated the victory of the soul over the body. With infinite desire he awaited the evening, and passed it in Josepha's chamber.

He had already lulled himself into a sweet dream by means of his flute, when it struck nine-and scarcely had the last stroke of the clock echoed, when the harp began to sound softly, until at length it vibrated in full accord. As his flute ceased, the spirit tones ceased with it; the pale and glimmering light flew over him again, and in his bliss he could only utter the words,

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'Josepha! Josepha! take me to thy faithful breast!"

For the present, the harp took leave with the light and trembling tones, till its whispers again were lost in low and trembling sounds!

Strangely affected by the occurrences of the evening, Sellner, as before, tottered back to his chamber. His faithful servant was alarmed with the appearance of his master, and hastened, notwithstanding his orders to the contrary, to the physician, who was, at the same time, an old friend of Sellner's. He found him with an attack of fever of the same symptoms as Josepha had, but of far stronger kind. The fever increased considerably throughout the night, during which he continually raved of Josepha and of the harp. In the morning he was more composed; for the great struggle was over, and he felt, clearly, that his dissolution was at hand, though the physician did not perceive it.

The patient disclosed to his friend what had taken place on both evenings; and no opposition of the cool-minded man could bring him from his opinion. As the evening came on, he grew yet weaker, and begged, with trembling voice, to be carried to Josepha's chamber. This was done. With infinite serenity he gazed around, hailed its fair recollections with silent tears, and spoke calmly, but firmly, of the hour of nine, as the time of his death. The decisive moment approached, and he desired all to quit his chamber, after he had bid them farewell, except the physician, who persisted

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Yet lower and lower rang the tones of the harp; his last strength was now exhausted by convulsion, and as he departed, the harpstrings broke at once, as if torn by a spirit's hand!

The physician, trembling, closed the eyes of the deceased (who, notwithstanding his contest with death, lay as in a gentle slumber,) and left the house in deep emotion. For a long time, he was unable to dismiss from his mind the impression of this scene; and he observed a strict silence as to the last moments of his friend; until at length, in an hour of social confidence, he imparted to some friends the occurrence of this evening, and at the same time showed them the harp, which he had received as a last legacy from the deceased.-From the German of Korner.



"BUT it is not only horses that are ill treated. There is that poor little inferior beast, the ass, that appears to be consigned, by general consent, to all the wrongs that the lowest of the human race may inflict; the urchin's sport, the tinker's drudge. suppose, besides the cross marked on his withers, the reason why it has been considered a religious animal is its patient endurance of contumely and injury; and is he a fool for that? No; I think be deserves credit for it; and if the truth were known, he has often more wit than his master. I have read of a man who undertook to teach an ass Greek. There are two-legged fellows, every one knows, crammed with Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, and yet they are downright donkeys. John Wesley tells of an ass that, while he was preaching, walked gravely up to the door of the chapel, stood stock-still, put forward his long ears, and remained in a posture of pious attention all the time of the sermon. I myself once saw something like that.

"I was at a country church in Munster: there was a large congregation, the day was sultry, and all the windows were open to let in the air; and the minister was in the middle of his sermon, which was muddy in doctrine, prosy in its composition, and altogether mighty soporific; when, lo! an ass that was grazing in the churchyard, put in his head and ears through the window, just opposite the pulpit, and set up a long and loud bray. The effect of the double discourse was irresistible. Laughter could not be controlled, until all were brought back to seriousness by seeing the minister's wife carried out in a fainting fit.

"I assert, that were you to make yourselves acquainted with asses you would find them clever enough. I once purchased an ass for the amusement of my children. I did not allow him to be cudgelled, and he got something better to graze on than thistles. Why, I found him more knave than fool; his very cleverness was my plague. My ass, like the king's fool, proved the ablest animal about the place; and, like others, having more wit than good manners, he was for ever not only going, but leading other cattle, into mischief. There was not a gate about the place but he would open-there was not a fence but he would climb. Too often he awoke me of a summer's morning, braying for sheer wantonness, in the middle of my field of wheat. I was obliged to part with him and get a pony, merely because he was too cunning to be kept.

"I could relate some curious instances of their memory for persons and places, and their attachment to individuals-I shall

allude but to two; one, the well-known story of Captain Dundas's ass, that he had shipped from Gibraltar to Malta; and when a storm came on, when far on their voyage, and the vessel was in such danger that all the live-stock was thrown overboard, the ass swam to shore at Cape de Gat, and in an incredibly short space of time made his way over the rivers and mountains of the Ronda for two hundred miles, until he found himself standing at the door of his master's stable at Gibraltar. But this is a bookstory, and the thing happened far away. I shall tell you what I know of an ass. There is a lady resident in a parish where I was for some years minister. She is the most tenderhearted of the human race; her tenderness, though a general feeling, is principally confined to the lower animals: I am disposed to think, that if in Turkey or India, she would leave all her worldly goods to endow an hospital for deserted, disowned, and abused animals. Well, this lady was walking along the road, and she met a train of tinkers proceeding towards Connaught, and one tall, tan-skinned, black-haired, curly-polled fellow, in all the excited cruelty of drunkenness, was belabouring his ass's sides with a blackthorn cudgel. This was too much for my friend. She first rated the man for his barbarity; she might as well have scolded Beelzebub. She then coaxed the ruffian, and asked him would he sell the creature, which he consented at once to do, asking of course three times the common price. You may judge of the joy of this amiable woman, when the beast, now her own ass, was relieved from its panniers, allowed to roll about in the dust, and graze at liberty. For a long time she kept him perfectly idle, until he recovered his spirits; then he became troublesome, and would break his bonds, and used to go a braying and curvetting, and seeking for asinine society, all over the country. Idleness is, certainly, after all, a bad thing for asses as well as men; and so this capricious fellow found it; for shortly a tinker (perhaps the very one who sold it) stole it; and for three or four years there were no tidings of the ass, until one day, as his kind mistress was taking her usual walk along the road, she saw a man urging along an ass, straining and bending under a heavy-laden cart.

"Now the moment my friend came near, there was an evident alteration in the deportment of the ass; immediately the ears that were but just now hanging listlessly over its eyes were cocked, and its head elevated in the air, and raising its voice more like a laugh than a bray, it urged itself under its heavy load into a trot, and came and laid its snout on the shoulders of the lady, who at once, and not until now, recognised her long-lost property, which she had again to purchase at a high price. It is many years since that occurred; the beast is alive, and so is the lady. I hope it won't be her lot to see in it that rare spectacle-a dead ass.

"There is another domestic animal, that, I think, has not got fair play from man, and that is a goose. If we want to write down a mark of positive contempt against the intellect of a man, we say he is an Ass; if we would proceed in our lowering designation, we assert he is a Goose. Now, wild or tame, I hold that geese are not to be sneered at. The wild are the most wary of all that take wing-see how aloft the flock soars-observe with what beautiful mathematical precision the order of flight is kept-listen to the voice of direction or of warning that the sentinel keeping in advance every now and then gives out-look how each bird in turn takes the leadership, and how the one relieved assumes his regular position in the rear; let no one venture to tell me that there is not considerable intelligence in these animals: every one knows how watchful geese are even in their domesticated state; every schoolboy has learned how they saved the Roman Capitol. I must tell you, amongst many anecdotes I know of geese, one that came under my own observation: when a curate in the county of Kildare, my next neighbour was a worthy man who carried on the cotton-printing business, and who, though once in very prosperous circumstances, was now, in consequence of a change in the times, very poor; in his mill-yard was a gander who had been there 40 years; he was the finest, the largest bird of his kind I ever saw, his watchfulness was excessive; no dog could equal him in vigilance, neither could

any dog be more fierce in attacking strangers and beggars; he followed his old master wherever he went, and at his command would fly at any man or beast; and with his bill, wings, and feet he could and would hurt severely. Whenever my neighbour paid me a visit, the gander always accompanied him, and as I was liberal of oats, and had besides one or two geese in my yard, he would, before his master rose in the morning, come up and give me a call; but neither the oats nor the blandishments of the feathered fair could keep him long away, and he soon solemnly stalked back to his proper station at the mill. Well, year after year I was perfecting my friendship with Toby the gander, and certainly had a share in his esteem, when one winter, after having been confined to the house with a severe cold, I, in passing through the mill-yard, inquired for my friend, whom I could nowhere see. 'Oh, sir,' says the man, and he was about the place as long as Toby himself, 'Toby's gone.'-' Gone where?' 'Oh, he is dead.'-'How dead? Why we eat him for our Christmas dinner.' 'Eat him!!!! I think I have been seldom in the course of my life more astonished and shocked; positively I would have given them a fat cow to eat, could I have saved poor Toby; but so it was. Upon inquiry, I found out that the poor gentleman had not means to buy his Christmas dinner; that he was too proud to go in debt; and, determined as he was to give his people a meat dinner, poor Toby fell a sacrifice to proud poverty. While honouring the man for his independence, I confess I never could look on him afterwards without a sense of dislike; I did not either expect or desire that he should suffer as he who slew the albatross, (who has not read Coleridge's Ancient Mariner ?) but I was sure he would not be the better in this world or the next for killing the gand

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I have been favoured with the following anecdote of a goose, by Mr. Thomas Grubb :

"At the flour-mills of Tubberakeena, near Clonmel, while in the possession of the late Mr. Newbold, there was a goose, which by some accident was left solitary, without mate or offspring, gander or goslings. Now it happened, as is common, that the miller's wife had set a number of duck eggs under a hen, which, in course of due time, were incubated; and of course the ducklings, as soon as they came forth, ran with natural instinct to the water, and the hen was in a sad pucker; her maternity urging her to follow the brood, and her selfishness disposing her to keep on dry land. In the meanwhile, up sailed the goose, and with a noisy gabble, which certainly (being interpreted) meant, Leave them to my care, she swam up and down with the ducklings; and when they were tired of their aquatic excursion, she consigned them to the care of the hen. The next morning down came again the ducklings to the pond, and there was the goose waiting for them, and there stood the hen in her great flustration. On this occasion we are not at all sure that the goose invited the hen, observing her maternal trouble; but it is a fact, that she, being near the shore, the hen jumped on her back, and there sat, the ducklings swimming, and the goose and hen after them, up and down the pond. And this was not a solitary event; day after day the hen was seen on board the goose, attending the ducklings up and down in perfect contentedness and good-humour-numbers of people coming to witness the circumstance, which continued until the ducklings, coming to days of discretion, required no longer the joint guardianship of the goose and hen.

"While this paper was passing through the press, a lady supplied me with the following anecdote of a goose, which, she assures me, can be depended on. I have every confidence in her credibility. A goose-not a gander-in the farm-yard of a gentleman, was observed to take a particular liking to her owner. This attachment was so uncommon, and so marked, that all about the house and in the neighbourhood took notice cf it; and consequently the people, with the propensity they have to give nicknames, and with the sinister motive, perhaps, of expressing their sense of the weak understanding of the man, called him GOOSEY. Alas! for his admirer-the goose's true love did not yet run smooth; for her master, hearing of the ridicule cast upon him, to

abate her fondness, insisted on her being locked up in the poultryyard. Well, shortly after, he goes to the adjoining town to attend petty sessions, and in the middle of his business what does he feel but something wonderfully warm and soft rubbing against his leg, and on looking down he saw his goose, with neck protruded, while quivering her wings in the fulness of enjoyment, looking up to him with unutterable fondness. This was too much for his patience or the bystanders' good manners; for while it set them wild with laughter, it urged him to do a deed he should ever be ashamed of; for, twisting his thong-whip about the goose's neck, he swung her round and round until he supposed her dead, and then he cast her on the adjoining dunghill. Not very long after, Mr. Goosey was seized with a severe illness, which brought him to the verge of the grave; and one day, when slowly recovering, and allowed to recline in the window, the first thing he saw was his goose, sitting on the grass, and looking with intense anxiety at him. The effect on him was most alarming. 'What!' says he, is this cursed bird come back to life, and am I, for my sins, to be haunted in this way?' 'Oh! father!' says his daughter, 'don't speak so hardly of the poor bird. Ever since your illness it has sat there opposite your window-it scarcely takes any food.' Passion, prejudice, the fear of ridicule, all gave way before a sense of gratitude for this unalterable attachment. The poor bird was immediately taken notice of-treated, from henceforth, with great kindness; and, for all I know, goose and goosey are still bound in as close ties as man and bird can be.

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it is also often beloved. Peter Pindar tells of the passionate sor-
row of an English lord for the loss of a favourite pig, and he con-
soles him in the following pathetic strain :

O! wipe those tears so round and big,
Nor waste in sighs your precious wind;
You've only lost a single pig,

Your wife and son are left behind.

"I have also heard a pitiful poem of a poor Galway weaver on the death of his pig. Now you must know that in Galway pigs are kept in the top floors of the houses, and that many are littered, reared, fattened, killed, salted, and made into bacon without ever touching the ground-living this way they help to pay the rent of the garret ;-it's well for you I don't recollect more than the fol. lowing stanza :

Paddy Blake the weaver had a little pig,
The pig was little because it was not big;
This pig was sick and like to die,

Which made poor Paddy and his wife to cry.

"Now this, if not so elegant, is not so tedious as the poem of the two thousand lines which some one wrote on pigs, the beauty of which consisted in this, that it was all written in Latin hexameters, and every word began with a P. (This poem is entitled 'Pugna Porcorum.') An Italian abbot has also written a poem in praise of pigs, and he calls upon Apollo and all the muses to assist him in celebrating their virtues. Now this production is in great estimation with the people who love their swine, and let them live Pigs, also, are in my opinion ill-used and slandered animals : on to an age of discretion, and the pig returns the love lavished on if men are dirty, debased, and ignorant, they are called a swinish it. An English traveller in South Italy describes the pigs running multitude. But I hold there is no animal cleaner in its habits out on the roads to meet their respective owners as they come than a pig; they are debased, it is true, but man has done it by from their work in the fields, and declares himself much amused bad breeding; and as to ignorance, I utterly deny the charge: no, by the mutual caresses that passed between man and pig on the quite the reverse, they are most intelligent; no inferior animal, occasion: in that country they are employed to hunt for and set neither dog, horse, nor cow, makes his own nest as does the pig; truffles, which grow under ground; they have been known also their senses are so acute that they foresee better than any other to set partridges. The late learned and good Dr. Briukley. animal the changes of the weather: and I am sure you all must Bishop of Cloyne, used to tell an interesting anecdote of one of have observed how they carry straw in their mouths to make them- his pigs. In the farm-yard, a person appointed for that purpose selves comfortable when they see the storm approaching. used to give corn to the turkeys at a certain place, and the pig observing this, took care diligently to attend; and though his snout did not seem well adapted for picking up grains of oats, yet Muck beat the turkeys all to nothing, and contrived to get the largest share. This the henwife seeing, took a dirty advantage, and had, on the following day, the pig locked up, while the turkeys were being fed. On his enlargement he hastened off to the feeding-ground, but there were neither oats nor turkeys. off he set, found out where the flock of turkeys was, and drove them before him as a shepherd would his sheep, until he had them at the usual spot, and there he kept them the whole day, not one would he allow to budge, expecting that old Molly would come with her sieve of oats.

"To be sure such intellectual qualities are only observable in those of the race that are allowed to come to years of discretion, as in sows; for by our modern breeding we fatten and kill off pigs before they come of age. The Dublin Societies and other agricultural bodies have much to answer for in this way, encouraging a precocity, in fattening up childish pigs before their intellectuals are expanded. in this way we are condemned to eat bad pork and worse bacon. Why, when I observe at one of our cattle-shows a huge unwieldy bag of blubber, a poor apoplectic young thing, that can scarcely walk or breathe for very plethora-sirs, it is no more like an old bristly, high-backed, long-legged, sharp-snouted grunter, such as erewhile I used to see in Munster, and such asI have lately observed in Germany, than an Irish spalpeen is to a London alderman. Now suppose that all of you ladies were cut off in your teens, what would become of the educated intellect, the judgment, the wisdom, the wit, the learning, you have exhibited in your more mature life? So it is with pigs. By the intentional degradation of man, and by the greedy knife, they are not allowed the development of intellectuality. Still, after all, they are cunning creatures, and they know both friends and foes. Have you ever seen, for if you have not I have, when a certain functionary, whose business it is to put rings in pigs' snouts, and perform other offices, rather disagreeable to the creature-when he comes sounding his horn, every pig in the place goes off to hide. There is no animal which knows its home and loves it more: you will see them going forth in the morning to look for food, and coming home in the evening. Have you not seen at a cabin door how imploringly poor Muck asks to get in; what different notes of entreaty it uses? and sometimes it stands scolding for admission, as much as to say 'Judy, agra, why won't you let ME in to my supper, seeing that I'm the boy that pays the rint.' I know no animal that shows such sympathy in the sufferings of its fellows, and it is very capable of attachment;


"I shall trouble you with but one story about cows; it came within my knowledge this summer; the circumstance occurred to one of my own. I am in the habit every year of buying two or three Kerrys; they are the kindest little creatures in the world, they pay very well, and though wild at first, they become under proper treatment exceedingly gentle and familiar: when I buy them, I always choose from the head and horn; I pick out those I consider to have good countenances. Last year I was very lucky in the three I bought; they became in a short time great pets; I generally go out in the morning before breakfast, and they always meet me at the gate of the pasture, expecting to have their heads scratched and be spoken to; one in particular, a quaint crumpledy-horned little lassie, used to put her snout into my pocket, like a dog, to look for bread and potatoes, which I generally brought with me; her breath was so sweet, and large eyes so placid, that I was almost tempted to be of the humour of the man who loved to kiss his cow. Well, there was a swing-swong in this field, and my Kerry lass, who was inordinately curious, seeing my young ladies swinging, thought, I suppose, she might take a swing herself. Be this as it may, one day about noon, a constant

and loud lowing of cows was heard at the gate nearest the house, and my brother, who was within, hearing the unusual and continued noise, went out to see what was the matter; as soon as he came to the gate he saw two of the Kerry cows very uneasy, but not the third, so he proceeded into the grounds, and as he went the cows followed him, still lowing, until he arrived at the farthest end of the land, when he saw my pet, the third Kerry, entangled in the rope of the swing, and caught by her head and horns, where she must have been soon strangled if not relieved; the moment my brother extricated her, the lowing of the others ceased. I could not learn that my Kerry fair one ever after attempted the humours of a swing-swong.

"Of cats, time does not allow me to say much; but this I must affirm, that they are misrepresented, and often the victims of prejudice. It is strictly maintained that they have little or no affection for persons, and that their partialities are confined to places. I have known many instances of the reverse. When leaving, about fifteen years ago, a glebe-house, to remove into Dublin, the cat, that was a favourite with me and with my children, was in our hurry left behind. On seeing strange faces come into the house, she instantly left it, and took up her abode in the top of a large cabbagestalk, whose head had been cut off, but which retained a sufficient number of leaves to protect poor puss from the weather; in this position she remained, and nothing could induce her to leave it, until I sent a special messenger to bring her to my house in town. At present I have a cat that follows my housekeeper up and down like a dog; every morning she comes up at daybreak in winter to the door of the room in which the maid-servants sleep, and there she mews until they get up; I don't expect that she will be longlived.

[To be concluded.]



ONCE more to visit Northern climes the fervid summer hies-
To shed, at morn, a crimson flush along unclouded skies;

To clothe the fields with golden grain, the garden-dells with flowers,
And crown with garlands, fresh and new, the gaily-dancing hours.

The early dawn is welcomed in by songs of happy birds,
Familiar to the ear and heart as childhood's warbled words;
And Day to his repose declines, with music low and deep,
To lull the lovely things of light to their delicious sleep.

The air with softer pinion stirs the leaves that make the shade
Within the wild and lone recess of some sequester'd glade,
And tosses showers of blossoms down from every fragile bough,
To fall with cool and dewy touch upon the fever'd brow.

Oh! from the city's throng'd resorts that it were mine to go,'
To some sweet spot where I could list a fountain's gladsome flow;
And not a sound save Nature's own could o'er the silence swell,
To jar the chords of quiet thought, or break Seclusion's spell !


QUEEN ANNE, although sufficiently lauded by contemporary bards, and whose encouragement to Stephen Duck, the poetical thrasher, ought not to be forgotten, appears not to have been eminent as a patroness of the Muses; and it is a remarkable coincidence, that three of the most illustrious wits who flourished in her reign, have each celebrated her name in couplets ending with defective rhymes: Pope, whose versification is music itself, thus apostrophises her in the "Rape of the Lock :"

"And thou, great Anna, whom three realms obey,

Dost sometimes counsel take-and sometimes tea."

Day," the author states what old empires shall fall, and new empires have birth :

"While other Bourbons rule in other lands,

And (if man's sin forbid not) other Annes."

Of the three celebrated poems from which the above couplets are taken, it may be here observed, that the first is Pope's most exquisitely elaborate efforts on a subject not worthy his celebration; the second is Addison's highly eulogised performance on a subject that ought never to have been celebrated at all by any good man; and the third exhibits Young's immeasurable short-coming on a theme to which no celebration can do justice, because it is not only too solemnly interesting to allow of fictitious embellishment, but likewise too awfully magnificent to admit of poetical aggran disement.


THE following passage in the life of Gustavus Vasa, when that distinguished monarch took refuge from the Danish usurper in Dalecarlia, to mature his noble plan for the deliverance of his country, is truly dramatic :—

"On a little hill stood a very ancient habitation, of so simple an architecture, that you would have taken it for a hind's cottage, instead of a place that, in times of old, had been the abode of nobility. It consisted of a long farm-like structure, formed of fir, covered in a strange fashion with scales, and odd ornamental twistings in the carved wood. But the spot was hallowed by the virtues of its heroic mistress, who saved, by her presence of mind, the life of the future deliverer of her country.

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"Gustavus having, by an evil accident, been discovered in the mines, bent his course towards this house, then inhabited by a gentleman of the name of Pearson, whom he had known in the armies of the late administrator. Here, he hoped, from the obligations he had formerly laid on the officer, that he should at least find a safe retreat. Pearson received him with every mark of friendship nay, treated him with that respect and submission which noble minds are proud to pay to the truly great, when rob. bed of their external honours. He exclaimed with such vehemence against the Danes, that, instead of awaiting a proposal to take up arms, he offered, unasked, to try the spirit of the mountaineers; and declared that himself and his vassals would be the first to set an example, and turn out under the command of his beloved general. Gustavus relied on his word, and promising not to name himself to any while he was absent, some days afterwards saw Pearson leave the house to put his design in execution. It was indeed a design, and a black one. Under the specious cloak of a zealous affection for Gustavus, the traitor was contriving his ruin. The hope of making his court to the Danish tyrant, and the expectation of a large reward, induced him to sacrifice his honour to his ambition, and, for the sake of a few ducats, violate the most sacred laws of hospitality, by betraying his guest. In pursuance of that base resolution, he proceeded to one of Christiern's officers commanding in the province, and informed him that Gustavus was his prisoner. Having committed this treachery, he had not the courage to face his victim, but telling the Dane how to surprise the Prince, who, he said, believed himself under the protection of a friend, he proposed taking a wider circuit home, while they, apparently unknown to him, rifled it of its treasure. 'It will be an easy matter,' said he, 'for not even my wife knows that it is Gustavus.'

"The officer, at the head of a party of well-armed soldiers, marched directly to the lake. The men invested the house, while the leader, abruptly entering, found Pearson's wife, according to the fashion of those days, employed in culinary preparations. At some distance from her sat a young man in a rustic garb, lopping

Addison, who has perhaps more false rhymes than any other poet off the knots from the broken branch of a tree. The officer told of equal celebrity, observes in his famous "Campaign :"

"Such are the effects of Anna's royal cares;

By her Britannia, great in foreign wars,
Ranges through nations," &c.

The most striking instance, however, is from Young-a name illustrious from its alliance with unrhymed poetry. In "The Last

her he came in King Christiern's name to demand the rebel Gustavus, who he knew was concealed under her roof. The dauntless woman never changed colour; she immediately guessed the man whom her husband had introduced as a miner's son to be the Swedish hero. The door was blocked up by soldiers. In an in.

stant she replied, without once glancing at Gustavus, who sat motionless with surprise, 'If you mean the melancholy gentleman my husband has had here these two days, he has just walked out into the wood, on the other side of the hill. Some of these soldiers may readily seize him, as he has no arms with him.'

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The officer, not suspecting the easy simplicity of her manner, ordered part of his men to go in quest of him. At this moment, suddenly turning her eyes on Gustavus, she flew up to him, and catching the stick out of his hand, exclaimed, in an angry voice, Unmannerly wretch ! What, sit before your betters? Don't you see the king's officers in the room? Get out of my sight, or some of them shall give you a drubbing!' As she spoke, she struck him a blow on the back with all her strength; and, opening a side door, There, get into the scullery, cried she, it is the fittest place for such company!' and giving him another knock, she flung the stick after him and shut the door. 'Sure,' added she in a great heat,never woman was plagued with such a lout of a slave!' "The officer begged she would not disturb herself on his account; but she, affecting great reverence for the king, and respect for his representative, prayed him to enter her parlour while she brought some refreshments. The Dane civilly complied, perhaps glad enough to get from the side of a shrew; and she immediately flew to Gustavus, whom she had bolted in, and by means of a back passage conducted him in a moment to the bank of the lake, where the fishers' boats lay, and giving him a direction to an honest curate across the lake, committed him to Providence."


No prejudice can be stronger than that of the French against plum-pudding. A Frenchman will dress like an Englishman, swear like an Englishman, and get drunk like an Englishman; but if you would offend him for ever, compel him to eat plum-pudding. A few of the leading restaurateurs, wishing to appear extraordinary, have plomb-pooding upon their cartes, but in no instance is it ever ordered by a Frenchman. Everybody has heard the story of St. Louis-Henri Quatre, or whoever else it might be,-who, wishing to regale the English ambassador on Christmas-day with a plum-pudding, procured an excellent recipe for making one, which he gave to his cook, with strict injunctions that it should be prepared with due attention to all the particulars. The weight of the ingredients, the size of the copper, the quantity of water, the duration of time, everything was attended to except one trifle-the king forgot the cloth! and the pudding was served up like so much soup, in immense tureens, to the surprise of the ambassador, who was, however, too well-bred to express his astonishment.-Every-day Book.


In 1759, Dr. Hill wrote a pamphlet, entitled, "To David Garrick, Esq., the petition of I, in behalf of herself and her Sister." The purport of it was to charge Mr. Garrick with mispronouncing some words, including the letter 1as furm for firm, vurtue for virtue, and others. The pamphlet is now sunk in oblivion; but the following epigram, which Mr. Garrick wrote on the occasion, deserves to be preserved, as one of the best in the English language..

To Dr. Hill, upon his Petition of the Letter I to David Garrick, Esq.
If 'tis true, as you say, that I've injured a letter,
I'll change my notes soon, and I hope for the better;
May the just right of letters, as well as of men,
Hereafter be fix'd by the tongue and the pen!
Most devoutly I wish hat they both have their due-
That I may be neve mistaken for U.


I used in early life to long to be a martyr-to have some grand opportunity of honouring God, of renouncing all for him. I would hope there was some piety in the feeling, but there was certainly more pride and ignorance. Well, this opportunity occurs every moment: to subdue the lusts of the neart requires more true heroism than to die at the stake.

There are three requisites to our proper enjoyment of every earthy D.essing which God bestows upon us-viz., a thankful reflection on the goodness of the Giver; a deep sense of the unworthiness of the receiver; and a sober recollection of the precarious tenure by which we hold it. The first will make us grateful, the second humble, and the last moderate.

As the sun breaking forth in winter, so is joy in the season of affliction; as a shower in the midst of summer, so are the solitary drops of sorrow mingled in our cup of pleasure.-Miss Smith.

We must be wise ourselves before we can understand or duly estimate the sayings of wise men,


No. No. I ben't arinnen down
The pirty maidens o' the town,
Nar wishen o'm noo harm;

But she that I o'd marry vust

To shiare my good luck ar my crust,

'S abred up at a farm.

In town a maid da zee muore life,
An' I dont underriate her;
But ten to oone, the sprackest wife
'S a farmer's woldest daeter.

Var she da veed wi' tender kiare
The little oones, an' piart the'r hiair,

An' kip 'em neat an' pirty;
Au' kip the sassy little chaps
O' buoys in trim, wi' dreats an' slaps,
When tha be wild an' dirty.

Zoo if ya'd have a bus'len wife,
An' childern well look'd a'ter,
The maid to help ye al drough life
'S a farmer's woldest daeter.

An' she can irin up an' vuold

A book o' clothes wi' young ar wold,
An' zalt an' roll the butter;

An' miake brown bread and elder wine,
An' zalt down meat in pans o' brine,
An' do what ya can put her.
Zoo if ya've wherewi', an' 'od vind
A wife wo'th looken a'ter,
Goo an' git a farmer in the mind
To g'ye his woldest daeter.

Her heart's so innocent an' kind;
She idden thoughtless, but da mind
Her mother an' her duty.
The liven blushes that da spread
Upon her healthy fiace o' red

Da heighten al her beauty.
So quick's a bird, so neat's a cat,
So cheerful in her niater,
The best o' maidens to come at
'S a farmer's woldest daeter.

Dorset Chronicle.


At Hamburgh there is an annual festival, in which troops of children parade the streets, carrying green garlands, ornamented with cherries, to commemorate a remarkable event which occurred in 1432. When the Hussites menaced the city with immediate destruction, one of the citizens proposed that all the children, from seven to fourteen years of age, should be clad in mourning, and sent as supplicants to the enemy. Procopius Nasus, the Hussite chief, was so touched with this spectacle, that he received the young supplicants, regaled them with cherries and other fruit, and promised to spare the city. The children returned, crowned with leaves, holding cherries, and shouting "Victory!"


About the year 1790, when the Lord-Chancellor Thurlow was supposed to be on no very friendly terms with the minister, Mr. Pitt, a friend asked the latter how Thurlow drew with them? "I don't know," says the premier, "how he draws, but he has not refused his oats yet."

The VOLUMES of the LONDON SATURDAY JOURNAL may be had as follows:VOLUME I., containing Nos. 1 to 26, price 5s. 6d. in cloth. VOLUME II., containing Nos. 27 to 52, price 5s. 6d. in cloth VOLUMES I. and II. bound together, containing the Numbers for 1839, price 10s. 6d. in cloth.

BACK NUMBERS and PARTS, to complete Sets, may always be obtained.

London: WILLIAM SMITH, 113, Fleet Street. Edinburgh: FRASER and Co. Dublin: CUERY and Co.--Printed and Stereotyped by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.

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