^fjmm^w ^^AHVHani^ ^ommv^ '^mwm'^ ^m ^mmy-o/:^ ^OFCAlIFORi!^ £2 A >^-X g ^xavHanA^ JJAEUN|VER%. /5^•UBRARY4^ Kojnvj JO'^ % ^OF-miFOR^ ^Of "^MAINrt-IViV ^. %a3AINfl-3Vii^ >#11BRA}IY(?A ^lOSANCEl^A ^OFCAUFOff^ ^OF-CAUFOft^ ^(?Aavaan# •7* O aOFCAIIFOR^ is o. i&AHvaiin# '^iKwnwjo'^ %33fiys(n^ %a3AiNfl-3Vft^ ^^MmVER% ^10SANCEl% "^JaUDKVSOT ^/sMAiNiiiv«w^ %AavaflDi^' "^^^ 2: ^lUBRARYGc. #-UBRAll% i 'l( ^<»0inVD-4O'^ \m\iy\^' %UONVSO# "^j inr.iurttr* . aP ^ifirAn.. . AcriiiPArt. ^tic.iiitn/CDrf.. 0^ g ^(?Aavijan# >&AHvaao# JO'^ ^l-UBRARYO^ ^«»OJI1V3JO'^ %113NVS01^ 7^/.wiMNni\\v ^OfCAlIF0% %HVH8nVi^ .^O^CAUF0R<^ s > V/._lg ^ ^ f 1 ir^ ^ ^5MEVNlYtR% j;?SlEUNIVER% > ;t ^losANcner^ a. 5itflIHIVEI% ^lOSANCCUr^ ^^fUlBRARYQr ^-UBRARYOr 3HVS01^ -^/jaMlNaiV?^ ^\Mmm^ ^lOSANCflfj^ ;:OfCAUFOR^ WW -%Q/^.jVV\^ ^AbVMni>^ ^RARYQc. ^^ojiTv: ^tt:R()US ENGRAVINGS BY MK. S. WILLIAMS, Sa 1 X !• OUR V {) L U M !■: S. vor.. I. LO N DO N': l'HINTi:i) I'flK THOMAS TlXifi AM) SON, 7.'; c:il KA J'SIDK , I i:(;. DUlil.lN ; It. (illllKlN A N l» CO. Ul. A8UUW; AI.80, J. AND H. A. T»:0, 21 Karl \Vynck ; a Lesrend of Amster- dam ...... The Hear Hunt .... The Phantom Skirniisli . The Broken Miniature . An Episode of the Revolution of .Inly, 1S;{0 .... .\ Talc for the Discontented . Dick Doleful; a sketch from nature Mairuanimity .... The Dutch Lovers The Death of the ChevHlier D'.Assas .•\ Mi Orthography . . . . . 17() American Acuteness . . .176 Romance of Real Life . .176 Rather hard . . . .192 Variation of the Roman Language 192 Specimen of the Sublime . . 192 Ancestry . . . . .192 Painter's Miseries . . .192 Ingenious Device . . .192 Specimen of the Absurd . . 208 Not Awake 219 Sunday Polish — Asking Favours — A Chance for Life — Coleridge . 224 Anecdote of Dr. Johnson — Old Quotations .... 232 Extravagant Expenditure . . 232 Curious mode of Catching Crow s — Changes of the Mind . . . 256 The Cart before the Horse . . 272 Difficulty of Compression . . 288 Impudence — Hindu Legend . . 298 The Wise Women of Mungret . 304 Truth 314 Imitation ..... 317 Avarice 320 Precocity — Cheerfulness . . 336 Accuracy ..... 383 The Duke for a Day . . . 384 A Commandment — Infallibility . 384 Influence of Books . . . 40.) Invasion averted by Stratagem . 408 Grace-ful ..... 408 ( ONTr.NTS. Vll msroKICAI. SKETCHES. No. 1. The Surprisi- nt' the Castle ol' (iiiisnes Page 65 IIISTOKIC GLEANINGS. Kdwaril \'I. — Mary — Elizabeth The Motk Kiii^j THE NATUR.\LIST. Wliite-lieailid Sea Eagle Sensible llor.se Eels Travelling over Land 271) 200 200 200 NOTES OF A READER. Extraordinary .Abstinence — Ghosts — Krim Katli Glierri . . 11)8 Spanisli Politeness — Filial Affection of the Moors .... 198 Weddings in Quito . 251 Counterpart of Napoleon . 255 Solitary Confinement . . 278 .Vrab Tournaments . 280 The Effects of Heat .287 Spani.sh E.xecution . 287 Energetic .Mode of Keasoiiing . 288 St. Vitus' Dance .... ;518 Indian War ...... ;U8 Atmospheric Phenomena .31!* Egyptian .Antitiiiities Geological Hypothesis Incident at Sea The Whale Fishery Knowledge of the .\rts among the .•\ncient Egyptians Summary Justice . English almost Mahometans Dangerous Bathing Rhodes •AGK ;{1!» ;ui.T 36fi 37!) 383 383 408 NOTICES OF NEW BOOKS. The Beauties of Beaumont and Fletcher . . . . . The Angler in Wales Ayesha, or the Maid of Kars Memoirs of John Marston Hall The Snuff-Box .... Traits and Traditions of Portugal . A!)botsford and Newstead Abbey . Beale on the Sperm Whale . Bruce, the Traveller Journal of Frances Anne Butler 138 183 2l,(i ■2liH 320 331 361 376 389 392 ANECDOTES; HISTORICAL AND RIOGKAril IC Al.. Anecdote of Dr. .lolinsoii . . 46 Nash, King of Math . . 93 .\ncestress of Franklin . . . 185 E M B E L L I 8 H M E N T S, 1. The Scrivener .... PAGE 1 2. KarlWynck .... . 17 .5. The Phantom Skirmish • . 33 4. A Tale for the Discontented . 49 5. Surprise of the Castle of Guisnes 65 (i. Midnight Invitation . 81 7. Page of a Blue-Jacket's Log-book 97 8. The Regicide .... 113 9, 10. Evil May-Day . 12 % 145 11. Wolmar 161 12. The Runaway Negro ... 177 13, 14. The Anglo-Spanish Bride 19. 3, 241 15. Death in the Tower . 209 16. A Diligence Adventure 225 17. Tradesmen's Tokens 248 18, 19. The Lady of Wolf hamscote 257, 273 20, 21, The Scourged Page 289, 305 22. LaVallit;re .... . 321 2.H, 24. The Solitary Grange , 337, 353 2.5. Cardinal Petralia . 369 26. The Sperm Whale Fishery . 377 27. Early Recollections . . . . , 385 28. Eriag of Hayti . JOl 29. Vignette in Title, THE PARTERRE: A JOURNAL OF FICTION, POETRY, HISTORY, LITERATURE, AND THE FINE ARTS THE SCRIVENER. (For the Parterre.) The clock of St. Dunstan's had tolled the hour of six, one evening in the month of April, ami the fishmongers had begun to close their stalls, when a young man, attired in sober and somewhat rustic costume, landed on the quay at Billings- gate, from the Gravesend passage-boat. Without heeding the crowd of idlers around him, and the throng of porters, who, doffing their hats, solicited the ho- nour of carrying the small portmanteau he held in his hand, the stranger saun- tered carelessly along Thames-street, to- wards Tower-hill. As he approached that spot so long celebrated in our history, Ins attention was arrested by a crowd of people who wer'; listening to the dis- course of a mountebank, who, with pill- box in hand, was enumerating the almost countless virtues of his medicines. Hav- ing mingled in the crowd, the young man watched with evid(;nt curiosity tlio stran^'e (,'riinares and contortions of tlie Hpeaker'H countenance. 'I'ho dress of the (juack was iintupiated, and had probably been fashioned in the time of thu fir.tt (.'harleit. A doublet of tad coloured P. 5. cloth, much stained and worn, descended as low as the hips. Slops, or breeches, of a capacious size, concealed the shape of the wearer's thighs, and shewed in relief his hosp of black silk, upon which many a careful and timely darn were visible. At his feet sat a jester, or jack-pudding, who from time to time blew a discordant blast upon a cracked trumpet at the desire of his master, whose volubility and command of lan- guage were truly surprising, added to which was a sharpness of wit and repar- tee, that plainly told him to be a man of infinitely superior intellect to most of those around him. " Here is a liciuor," said the quack, exhibiting a small phial, " that shall cure all pains of the joints in a tew f(!Conds : take but five drops of this precious balm in a toss of a(jua vita;, and it will make any of ye who are ailing as sound as a roach. Tell me not of Catholic miracles — whoreson cheats as tliey bo ! — this goodly luiuor will do more for ye than all tin; saints in the calen- dar, ^'our caryo))hylati (coinmunded by my Lord liacon; may be good, and so may your rusa nio.s<'liuta, and your nardi folium; but crueifV nie if '.liis will not I THE PARTERRE. set you right in the turning of a die. You all know Jonas Sands, the tanner, of Bermondsej, — the poor soul was racked in's joints, but one dose of my precious cordial drove his pains to the devil ! Here is an unguent for tetters and pimples ; what say you, fair maiden, will you not drive away that unsightly object on your right cheek with a touch of this salve 1 — the price ? — oh, a shil- ling ; your quacksalvers would charge you four for as much hog's-lard. Here is a powder for the complexion, com- pounded of simples. I learned this art, when studying at the college of Parma, of the illustrious Signor Boccalini. What say you, gentle mistress in the scarlet hood 1 Will you not try this precious packet on your comely skin 1 Trust me, wrinkles fly at its very touch, and a lovely bloom is suffused over the whole countenance. Here," exhibiting another phial, " is an elixir for all scor- butic humours ; it hath cured the king's evil in a few days, wdthout inconveni- ence to the patient." " Buy it, in God's name, good peo- ple," said a man in the crowd, who had hitherto remained unnoticed, "'tis a thing of price, and we ought to value it ; the king's evil hath prevailed greatly of late." These words were said with an emphatic and significant tone, which could not be misunderstood, and all eyes were turned towards him who had ut- tered them. " Ha ! " cried the quack, " have we puritans here? do you speak treason in broad day-light, you shame- less villian 1 hast no value for thine ears, Issachar'!" " W^e know each other, master mountebank," replied the man, lifting his broad hat so as to expose his countenance to full view ; " but both have not a friend at court ! What if you try the elixir j^ou boast of ; trust me, 't is a disease which must be rooted out ere long." " Do you deal in ambiguities, you villain?" cried the quack, who was evidently disconcerted. " Away with thee, or I will utter that which shall whisk thee off to the Tower right quickly." — " You dare not, master mountebank ; but come, don't chafe it with me, we were once friends, you know." This was uttered with such a careless air, that it vexed the mountebank to the quick. His countenance grew pale with deadly rage, and he cried out to two or three soldiers from the Tower, who were lis- tening to the squabble with evident delight, — " Yon villain is Jasper Arkin- stall, the Papist ; seize him, on your allegiance ; he is encompassing the death of the king." "Stand off!" cried he, who was thus denounced, to several who pressed around him ; stand off, I say, and let me reply to that old cheat, whom I will ere long pluck by the gills. He says he will sell you a salve or an elixir for the king's evil, surpassing all others ; will it, I ask, be as efficacious as the famous Doctor Oliver's 1 " This unequi- vocal allusion to the late Protector, uttered in such a place and at such a time, absolutely froze with horror many of the bystanders, for several persons had already suffered on that very spot for less direct offences. Some of them, nevertheless, drew their swords, and advanced to seize the person of Arkin- stall, who, however, proved a tartar ; for in an instant his cloak was wound round his left arm, and a rapier of uncommon length bristled before their faces. Seve- ral pushed at him at once, and among the rest, one of the soldiers before-men- tioned, who, stumbling forward, received the point of Arkinstall's rapier in his sword-arm, and instantly dropped his weapon. The check which this accident gave to the assailants, allowed their an- tagonist an opportunity of retreating, and he fled into a neigbouring house, the door of which had been left ajar, pursued by some thirty or forty persons. But the fugitive was not to be taken ; he had made his way through the house, threatening those whom he met with instant death if they opposed him, and leaping out of a back window into a court at the rear of the house, got clear off. The scene filled our traveller with amazement ; he at first supposed Arkin- stall to be under the influence of liquor ; but a moment's reflection assured him that it was a premeditated plan for an- noying the mountebank, who seemed so disconcerted by the interruption, that he at once ceased to " ply his vocation," and retired from the place. In the mean- while, the young countryman bent his steps across Tower-hill, and shortly ar- rived at Aldgate, when having engaged a bed at a neighbouring inn, he proceeded to the house of a scrivener, named Ralph Battencourt. Here he found the man of business at his desk, wiapped in a sort of old dressing-gown, and his head covered by a worn -out velvet cap, from under which his long grey hair de- scended on each side of his sallow and unprepossessing countenance. His small, dark, piercing eyes, were almost hidden THE PARTERRE. bv his busliv brows and a pair of Lorn spectacles. Ou the desk lay a piece of sealing-wax and a large thumb-riug, both of which had apparently been just used, a pair of small scales for weigh- ing gold, and a volume on Convey- ancing. In the window-seat stood a pile of books and papers ; and over the chimney, up which no hospitable smoke had passed for manj- years, hung an old musketoon, an irou-haudled broad- sword, and a rapier in a red leather sheath, all covered with venerable dust. "Well, ^Master Latymer," said the Scrivener, pointing at the same time to an emptv chair ; " I have closed the bar- gain at last ; pray seat yourself ; 1 had much trouble in the matter, I assure ye." " It is ever a hard bargain when we wish to sell," replied Latj-mer ; " how much have you obtained for the estate ? Pr'ythee tell me at once ; I sit on thorns the' while." " Fifteen hundred pounds, Sir ; fifteen hundred pounds ! " said the Scrivener, placing his pen behind his ear, and rub- bing his bands together with apparent satisfaction. " O it was an excellent bargain — an excellent bargain. Sir ! " " And who may this prodigal be, who has made up liis mind to give that sum for an estate wliich cost my poor father, in worse times, three thousand pounds?" inquired the young man, in a tone that shewed he did not partake of the Scri- vener's enthusiasm. " Curse on the cuckoldy clown ! would he not give more 1 " " Heaven forgive ye, for thus speak- ing of an honest man ! " ejaculated Alas- ter Battencourt. " Alas the day ! that our citizens should be thus flouted. He is of the Common Council, Sir; a man of substance, — a mercer ; his name is Andrew TroUope, and his house is the sign of the Seven Fleur de Luces, in the Alinories." Latymer suppressed the reply which rose to his lips, and inquired for the money. The Scrivener informed him that it would be paid on the morrow, when the deed of conveyance would be ready for his signature. It was arranged that the purchaser should be ready with the money at twelve o'clock on the fol- lowing day ; and Latymer was about to take his leave, when the latch of the door was suddenly raised, and a gallant entered with a careless air, and throwing himself into a chair, surveyed his own bote and his shoe-ties with evident sa- tiafactioD. "Art busy, my old deity V inquired the intruder, casting, at the same time, a penetrating glance upon Latymer. " A — no, my lor — your worship, no ; I am at your — j-our wor- sliip's commands," said the Scrivener, stammering, and looking all confusion ; for the gallant winked, and ej-ed him significantly. Latymer now took his leave, but not without observing the face and lijrure of Battencourt's visitor. The gallant appeared to be in the prime of life ; he wore a long periwig of brown hair, and his gaily trimmed moustaches were of the same colour, and turned up at the ends ; his eyes were of a greyish hue, his complexion fair, and the expression of his features would have been feminine, but for a rakish air which pervaded them. La- tymer felt persuaded that he had looked upon that face before. He returned to his inn, and left iMaster Battencourt and his visitor together. In the morning, he resolved to have a ramble through the city, to which he was almost a stranger, before the hour appoint- ed hy the Scrivener should arrive. He had scarcely left the inn, when he beheld, with some surprise, advancing towards him, the man who had so strangely in- terrupted and bearded the quack on Tower-hill. His astonishment increased, when Arkinstall saluted him by his name, and inquired respecting the health of his father. " I have heard that he has been ailing," said Arkinstall, "and as he was roughly used in the late wars, I fear the worst." " He has suffered much, Sir," replied Lat^'mer ; " but I wot not that you were acquainted." " Accjuainted ! we were sworn friends ! Ah, youtli ! when thy father saved me from death, and snatched me from before a file of Corbet's musketeers waiting for the word to fire, be dreamt not tliat a life of privation and suffering would be the lot of his friend — his schoolfellow ! I see thee look incredulous, — tut ! the name that villain ilochester, for 't is he thou sawest in the guise of a mounte- bank — the name he used, is only one of many wfiich I have found it expedient to assume in these sad days ; — but how of thy father?" — " He has been dead these six months," returned Latymer, still sus- |>icious of his interrogator, whoso thread- bare garments were ill-roncealed hy the large cloak he wore, from bi'iieath which the long rapier before mentioned peeped out menacingly. What, thought the j'outh, if this should bo some bully, ready to denounce me as a plolti r against the THE PARTERRE. state. Arkiiistall read what was pass- ing within him. " Poor boy," said he, " I blame thee not for thy suspicion in such days as these. I will not bring thee into danger by detaining thee in the street, where every eye is upon us. But a word in thy ear, ere we part : mistrust not the tattered jerkin ; thou hast more to fear in this city from silk and velvet. Adieu ! we may meet again. Walter Sibbel would peril life and limb to serve the son of his friend." He dis- appeared down a narrow street, and La- tymer, who had no time to reply to this caution, regarded his receding figure for a moment, and then pursued his way. " 'Tis strange, (thought he,)that this man, of whom I have heard my poor father speak in terms of friendship, should be thus heedlessly hazarding life and pro- perty by a quarrel with a nobleman so powerful as Rochester ; and stranger still, that he should be able to recognise me, after a lapse of so many years. I would fain know more, thougli his for- lorn appearance tells me that he is needy and desperate, and that any intimacy with him might bring upon my head the vengeance of his powerful enemy, the profligate earl. Property, did I say? his threadbare doublet leaves no doubt of his being poor ; and he seems to set but little value on his life. Misfortune has, perhaps, scattered his wits to the winds, for I noted the wild glance of his light-grey eye." JN'othing further occurred to inter- rupt his reflections, and as the ap- pointed hour arrived, he knocked at the door of the Scrivener. Battencourt was not alone ; he was engaged in earnest conversation with a short, burly personage, whom he at once introduced to Latymer as JMaster Trollope, of the Minories, and the deed of conveyance was placed in his hands for approval. He had scarcely read a dozen words, when a loud knocking was heard at the door ; and upon its being opened by Master Battencourt'sboy, Walter Sibbel sudden- ly entered the room. His eye glanced fiercely on Trollope. " Ha ! " cried he, " what ! the cuckold mercer joined in the conspiracy to cheat a friendless youth of his inheritance ! Art thou giving the earl thy aid, in reward for bis having deprived thee of an unworthy mate 1 William Latymer, I have arrived in time to save thee. Sign nothing which this hoary villain may tender thee. Bat- tencourt, thy treachery is well known to me. Thy grey hairs alone protect thy recreant carcass. As for thee (ad- dressing himself again to Trollope) my sword would be dishonoured by con- tact with thy vile body : begone, base pander to the most abandoned of men, lest I forget myself and do thee harm. William Latymer, you must hasten hence, and hie to the King, who can alone protect thee — he cannot, abandoned as he is, forget thy father's merits : the Earl is in disgrace ; but if you take not this step, you are lost." " I am indeed lost," said Latymer, " but it is in amazement ; — what am I to learn from this?" "That this hoary cheat has conspired with the noble Earl of Rochester, aided by this trembling slave — (pointing to Trollope, who stood quivering with fear and rage) to rob thee of the estate thou wouldst foolishh' sell." Here the Scrivener broke forth in a shrill cracked voice, which age and wrath had rendered strangelj^ discordant : " God a-mercy," cried he, " what times we live in, when every mad jackanape beards us under our own roofs ! Get out of my house, sirrah, or we shall find you a lodging in the Compter. — Here, Will ! run and fetch a constable." " Summon thy master, the devil, from his burning throne ; he will hear thee sooner," cried Sibbel fiercely. " The boy has done his work bravely, and discovered the plot to his real master." " The accursed urchin ! " ejaculated Battencourt. " I have been nursing an adder, then : — where is this imp of Sa- tan 1." " Beyond thy power, and in safe- ty," rejoined Sibbel ; " but come. Master Latymer, I must send you on your errand, and let you further into the mysteries of this plot ; " then taking Latymer by the arm, he led him away, casting, as he passed out, a threatening look upon Trollope, who evinced an in- clination to follow them. Upon gaining the street, Sibbel hastily described the plan which had been contrived by the Scrivener to obtain tlie title-deeds from his unsuspecting client. It had been arranged, that Trollope should have the documents sent to his home, which would aSbrd him an opportunity of absconding with them, while a ruflSan, hired for the purpose, was to denounce Latymer as a plotter against the state, and get him lodged in Newgate ; the Earl of Rochester was then to inter- cede for him, and procure a commuta- tion of his sentence to banishment to the plantations. No time was to be lost. Latymer flew to the court, and laid the whole before the king; while THE PARTERRE. Sibbel hasteiit'd to take measures tor his owa sat'etVi well aware that the Earl would hesitate no longer to destroy him. • As the evening advanced, the bustle on the river decreased, while the hum of voices and the various sounds of labour were hushed into a calm, when Walter Sibbel iiuickly descended tlie stairs at St. Catharine's, and jumping into a wherrv, desired the waterman to row across to Dock Head. The boat had scarcely reached the middle of the stream, when three figures were seen de- scendin;? the stairs. They immediately entered a wherry, and rowed after that which bore Sibbel, calling loudl3' on the waterman to lay-to, as he was bearing one impeached of high crimes against the government. The boatman seemed inclined to obey this summons, but the threatening aspect of Sibbel plainly told that he dared not, while the two pistols in his girdle, which his cloak, now laid aside, no longer concealed, indicated that any attempt to capture him would be dangerous. Sibbel gained the shore, and throwing the waterman a groat, hurried to a wretched hovel in the neighbourhood. Lilting the latch and dashing open the door, the fugitive cut short the inquiries of the old woman who acted in the capa- city of his housekeeper, and throwing her his purse which contained but a few pieces of silver, forced her gently out of the house and closed the door, at which his pursuers were the next moment thun- dering for admittance. One of them was a constable, the others were soldiers, and all were armed with swords and pistols. Their loud knocking at the door alarmed the neighbourhood, and Drought many persoos to the spot. They now attempted to gain admit- tance by the small latticed window, but this was strongly guarded by iron bars. A large spar was at length brought, and the besiegers using it as a battering- ram, dashed the door into shivers ; then rushing in sword in hand, encountered the object of their pursuit, who was well prepared for them. The constable was instantly shot dead by Sibbel, who kept his pursuers at bay, and gradually retreated up the small staircase at the end of the room. He gained the cham- ber, and a shot was fired which broke his sword ann. His rapier fell from his grasp, and he uttered a groan of an- guish ; another shot was firtMl, ;iiul Sihlx.d ^ta,'^'^red towards a barrel, into which he Hniip|>ed his remaining |iistol — but it missed fire, and he fell, exhausted from loss of blood. " Thus perish the king's enemies!" said the foremost soldier, star- ing alternately at the now lifeless body of Sibbel, and the barrel which was filled with gunpowder. — " We have had a narrow escape. Will I " A. A. A. THE GRAVE of THE POETESS. Not there \ Not there ! The dull, damp church-yard earth should never d'lrken The crowned ringlets of her golden hair -. Child of the Laurel ! be thy dreamless slumbers Far from those charnel-regions of despair ! Make her a grave By the low murmur of a sylvan fountain. Where the wood-violets in the foam-drops lave, And silvery aspen leaves and dewy roses To the wild music of the breezes wave. There should be heard, \V'Tien the red light of summer eves is dying. The low, sweet warble of some unseen bird. Hymning the parting sunset, wild and lonely As the wind-harp by aerial breathings stirr'd. Fit dirge for thee. Whose soul was music — beautiful departed ! Like the charm'd spell of some far melody. Echoing within our souls a shadowy requiem For happiness and love, no more to be. But unforgot Wilt thou be, sweet lanthe > Consecrated By the heart's truest tears, the lonely spot Where all that death can claim of thee shall perish But the bright spirit — Earth, thou hast it not i Not, not of thee. Ask we for ourbelov'd one. Soul-enfranchisrd : Why should we murmur where thy dust shall be. The undying has no grave, — ashes and darkness Are all we give to earth. — Immortal, Thou art free ! E.S.C. SYDNEY AND THE MAURITIUS. PAUL AND VIRGINIA. As the intercourse between Sydney and the ^Mauritius is now likely to become more frequent and regular, the subjoined details, collected from the most modem authorities, may possess interest at this time. The Isle of France covers a surface of 4(t(),()()0 acres. The temperature is healthy, and the heat moderate ; but the island is subject to hurricanes. The soil is in general of little de])th, and full o stones ; but it produces wheat, rice, maize, sugar, coft'eo, cotton, and spices. It was originally discovered by tlic Portuguese, and afterwards occupied by the Dutch, who gave it the name of Mauritius (afttT .Maurice of Nassau, Prince of Orange). The first French inhabitants emigrated thither, from the contiguous island of Bourbou, in 17V(). THE PARTERRE. The late war placed it in the possession of the English, who, much to the raor- tificatiou of the French, did not cede it, with Bourbon, by the treaty of 1814. It is admitted by both, that in a commercial point of view, the possession of the one island is valueless without the other. The annual production of sugar is, on an average, 20,000,000 lbs.; of coflse, 600,000 lbs. ; of cotton, 500,000 lbs. The population, in the year 1812, was as follows : 17,000 whites, 4000 Creoles, 70,000 black slaves— total 91,000. For the beauty and grace of the women, and for the suavity and freedom which reign in social intercourse, this island is highly celebrated. But it awakens peculiar interest, as identified with tlie charming romance of Paul and Virginia, of wliich it is the scene. How often are the fictions of the novelist, however, built upon the frailest foundation . " Paul, the hero of the tale" (it is re- marked by a late reviewer of the voyage of Captain Freycinet, in the Uranie corvette, that touched here in 1819), " is a mere creature of fancy. Madame de la Tour, the mother of the heroine, so far from dying in an agony of grief for the loss of her daughter, survived the catastrophe long enough to espouse three husbands in succession ; and the pastor, who acts so fine a part in the novel, is transformed into a Chevalier de Bernage, son of an echevin at Paris, who, after serving in the Mousquetaires, and killing an antagonist in a duel, had retired thither, and taken up his residence at the Riviere du Rempart, half a league from the spot where the St. Gerand was wrecked. " But to make amends for this diversity in the characters of real life and those of romance, the Isle of France is cele- brated for the residence of others, whose adventures have partaken of the extrava- gance of fiction. One of these was the daughter-in-law of the Czar Peter, who, escaping from Russia, sought an obscure retreat at Paris. There she married. a M. Moldac, sergeant-major of a regiment which was sent thither ; and in consider- ation of her rank, her husband is said to have been promoted to a majority, by an order of the Court. Another was Madame de Puja, wife of a French colo- nel, and recently deceased. She was the celebrated Anastasia, the mistress of Count Beniowsky, who, after facilitating his escape from Kamschatka, accom- panied him in his wanderings ; and when he was killed at Madagascar, sought an asylum in this island, where she termi- nated her eventful career." C. DUNBAR CASTLE. BY HORACE GUILFORD. Where fragments, rent as by an earthquake's shock. Root the green turf, or pile the jagged rock ; While gulfs below, in sea-wrought fissures spread. Mask from the sun their horrid black and red, — Gaze ! till you question the bewildered sense, Where the rock ceases, where the walls com- mence. Approach, and lo ! the throne that nature gave. Shews what a mighty lord art lifted o'er the wave ! Ramparts are there, whose range fatigues the eye ; Halls too familiar with the churlish sky ; Towers on disjointed craigs, where men com- pare The graceful roundel with the massy square ; Grim bridges o'er the invading ocean flung ; aieways with storm-defaced escutcheons, hung; Ribbed windows plundered of their gorgeous pane ; And the dim gallery's sea-lulled souterrain ; And, throned the highest and the broadest built. The haggard donjon, like the ghost of guilt 1 How stern they stand ! how bright they meet the morn ! Though gaunt.august, — defying though forlorn. Like gems, the bastion's crimson colour wears The lichen's gold and silver seal of years. And in and out (as daring and as free As erst black Agnes) winds the German Sea. Mocking with groans the long-hushed battle shout, 'Twixt porch and chamber, winds he in and out. Otice not so chartered, when each billowy road The adamantine mass in sovereign pride be- strode. Then, while below the buried ocean raved. Above, helms glittered, andgonfanons waved ; Swept o'er its gulfs, unwet, patrician furs ; And softly clinked the gold chivalric spurs. Where'er a craig its threatening head uprear'd, There the bold turret rose and domineered ; Where'er deep rifts received the dauntless main. Leapt the light ark, and made th' invasion vain. Deep at its base Behemoth lay at rest. And eagles wished their eyrie on its crest ! Man his bold work with conscious pride sur. veyed. And the curbed ocean bellowed — but obeyed. Yet oft his floods the Barmkin's crest haveknoxvn. Oft weltering watched the dire Mazmorra's groan, Oft round those moonlight towers, his waters mute Have lulled themselves with royal Mary's lute: Or, lashed to frantic rivalry, have drowned Agnes Corspatrick's wildest slogan sound ; Pictured her patriot flag in waveless blue, Or drenched its blazon with tempestuous dew. And hath, indeed, the downy purple bed In this damp, windy, grass-grown pile been spread ? Have torches glimmered, where the sun as bright Blazes, as o'er Dunpender's houseless height? Or chequered tapestry's legendary pall Decked with red raiment this bewildered wall > Think of the warm green forestry that spreads Where Southron castles rear their gleamy heads ; THE PARTERRE. Contrasting with iU pageantry of dyes. The sun-gilt panes, grey towers, and mure skies. Then on this ocean fortress lean, and look Where ntful gales nor flower nor foliage brook ! Age brings no robe to dignify liis walls. And, like the Roman, veils him as he falls : Still, though dismantled, still that giant form Salutes the sun, and challenges the storm. Bids the bleak «ind his pealing watch-bell be. The stars his sentinels, his moat the seal Xote. — lUack .Vccnes was not the only heroine of Duubar Castle, as the follow- ing anecdote will shew, taken from the lips of ^Nlrs. Grant, of Laggan, the de- lightful writer of " Letters from the Mountains." It is said to be the prototype of Re- becca's turret-scene in Ivanhoe, and is interestiog, not only in itself, but also as exhibiting the wonderful power of the dead magician, in retaining every thing he once heard ; and seizing in an instant, and adapting to his purpose, anecdotes which to others might have seemed com- mon place ; but which, having passed through his crucible, came forth with the stamp of dramatic sublimity and pathos. One of the loftiest remains of Duubar Castle (1 think it is the porch, sur- mounted bra coat of arms and a win- dow), is easily accessible on one side ; but on the other, looks do^vn into the black scarped vaults by which the sea intrudes into every quarter of this ex- traordinary fabric, and -which make the eye reel to measure them. As the day, though sunnv, Vas excessively windy when I was there in the autumn of 18'J8, it was as much as I could do to creep, on my hands and knees, within a few yards of this porch, though anxious to decipher the blazonry of its armorial shield. About forty years ago, one of the bonnie lassies of Dunbar, with her bare white feet and snooded golden hair, was busily employed in the bleaching-iield, whose wide green lies close under the castle walls that shield it from the sea ; a young officer of the — Dragoon Guards, then (luartered at Dunbar, was lounging about the ruins, — was struck with the girl's extraordinary brauty, accosted her, and met witii a civil, but short reply. Kar from rebuffed, however, he pro- ceeded to pour into her ear a jargon of that equivocal stniin, at which a sensible girl would laugh, aud a modest one frown. — .\t length, ho offered to salute her, and waa received with a ringing box on the ear, wliicli stnfrgered our amorouH Hon of .MarH, and (It-alinrd him, for the time, to the loudest roar of the neighbouring waves. Half laughing, half indignant, the Ibrh fled up the steep and broken gpallery, that leads to the outer gateway of the castle. Half laughing, and thoroughly put to his mettle, thither the knight pursued her ; till, finding she had no other resource, this maritime Venus sprang to the armorial porch already mentioned, aud darting into its doorless arch (from whose threshold a dizzy de- scent shot perpendicularly down to the hideous and roaring gulph below), she clasped the pillar with one hand, aud with the other waving back her pursuer, she vowed that if he advanced another step, she would dash herself into the abyss of rock and wave at her feet ! There was too much earnestness in the tone of her voice, the hue of her cheek, and the glance of her eye to permit her Lothario's doubting, one instant, her resolution of executing what she threatened. Still she was not satis- fied that he instantly stinted in his pur- suit, at her menace ; but extorted from him the promise of a soldier and man of honour, that he would permit her, un- molested, to resume her labours on the bleaching-green behind the castle. And to this slight incident are we in- debted, for that shuddering scene in Ivanhoe. For the Norman towers and embat- tled platforms of giant Torquilstone, we have the haggard, haughty spectre of Dunbar ; and, for the turbaned and high-souled Daughter of Jerusalem, the barefooted, but equally intrepid Scottish Maiden. LETTERS FROM THE LAKES. No. I. THE REV. H. WHITE TO MISS . Uiverston, Sept. i'y, 1795. " When I left the Spiral Graces, your idea, my dear , tiiat I should record at evening the sights and events of the fi- nished day, appeared reasonable and jirac- ticable in theory ; and for this purj)Ose I brought with me a blank paper book for meniorabilias, which, alas! now lies by my side, as innocent and unstained us when it first issued from the paper-mill. So much for practice ; but, in truth, there has not occurred a single day, alter whose full occupation my eyes would sulVcr me to write a line, but called aloud with Scotia's ([ueen, ' to bed, to hetl, to lied ;' and it is iin|i()ssible for me to adduce a Htronger jtroof of my desire to gratify you, than by tasking my day-wcakeiied sight to fill the present fc)lio blank. This 8 THE PARTERRE. morning — but hold — I will commence my journey regularly — after this assur- rance, that every delight I have experi- enced from sublime nature would have been doubled to me, had your quick per- ception and glowing enthusiasm been the companion of my ' matchless ' way. " On Sunday evening, 13th, I drank tea with the Storers, and proceeded through the gathering dusk, in shaded road, to spire-crowned Uttoxeter. No sooner had I alighted, than I perceived a deficiency of that cash, which, like the vinegar of Hannibal, was to obtain me a passage amongst the towering Alps and Appenines of this country. Not with- out suspicion of having lost these neces- sary viaticums, Sam retraced his way to Lichfield at day-breat, and having searched in vain the reading-desk and pulpit at Ridware, at last found tlie things needful, in my study at Lack- lane. Not small was the anxiety I suf- fered during his absence ; and imme- diately on his return, mounted my steed and arrived at Cheadle after dark. This little town hangs upon the side of a vast hill ; and the window lights, through the dusk as we approached, appeared like luminaries hung amidst the clouds. " Tuesday morning, 15th, we set out for Belmont ; and when I left the direct road to wind along the Churnet's edge, Sam was almost as much struck with the vast mountains, the gloom of woods de- scending to their base, and the lucid prattling waters beneath, as he has since been amidst our present far superior rocks, waters, and vales ; indeed, the exquisite scenery of Belmont did not less enchant me at the second view, than on September 30th, 1794, it did at the first; it is yet almost unrivalled. No diminution of friendly welcome and at- tention appeared in my reception at Belmont. A high-bosomed lively girl was there, who, after the crate story, cluug to me like a burr, and nutted with me up the craggy steeps. Beneath this hospitable roof I staid till Tliursday (17th), and then descending to the hill, that substitutes the residences of man for grassy verdure, I baited at Leek, and through a diversified and rich coun- try proceeded to wide-spread, two- towered Macclesfield, whose entrance by the noble manufactory on one side, and a rapid stream on the other, is striking. From hence, detained only by the ele- gant house of Sir George Warren, and the expanded lake that skirts the road, I passed, at dusk, tumultuous and noisy Stockport, and reached Manchester about eight. Mr. Simmonds was my obliging conductor through the whole of Friday, (18th). Only noticing the palace-like infirmary, with a cheerful but imprisoned water in front, the venerable schools with their excellent library, and the numerous buildings private and public, my spirit anchored upon the inimitable paintings of Mr. Hardman — three rooms and the staircase contain them. Through the door-way of the largest is seen the ' Mother of Ruth,' preparing her lovely charge to visit their benefactor ; she is stooping to bind the bracelets, and is onh' not alive. The ' Tigers,' of Ru- bens ; the ' Banditti,' of Mortimer ; the ' Falstaff,' of Fuseli ; the ' Burgomaster,' of Rembrandt ; the ' Birds,' of Elmer and Snyders ; the various productions of Wright, particularly the ' Watch-tower on i"ire,' with the moon rising opposite, are all so exquisite, that their equal may sometimes and separately be seen, but their superiors never. Clothed in the grey mantle of early morning, we left populous, commercial Manchester on Saturday, 19th ; a range of hills ex- tended its huge sides for many miles. About its centre, two men appeared sta- tionarj' ; upon inquiry, we learnt that the}' were two pyramidal stones, erected, in ages long past, to memorize two bro- thers, who, losing their way in a severe winter, perished in the frost, and were discovered the next day ' folded in each other's arms.' I hope this simple narra- tive will interest you as much as it did me. The end of this mountain is called Rivington Craig. We dined at Chorley, a little way beyond Pipe Hall, and had a most pleasant ride (save and except the dust) to high situated Preston, which looks down upon the tide-swelling Rib- ble, crossed by many handsome bridges, and the interesting village of Walton, embosoming the handsome seat of Sir Harry Hoghton. I here made an ac- quaintance with the worthy vicar of the principal church, Humphrey Shuttle- worth ; did the whole duty twice on Sun- day, and walked with him and his three daughters in the environs till night. " Yesterday I dined at Garstang, and arrived at the brow of the hill which overlooks Lancaster, by noon. Here and through this day, descriptive lan- guage can neither adequately inform you, or even outline, what I have seen. To the left, between twenty-one majes- tic hills, shone in full hlaze the dazzling ocean, to which the shining and mean- dering Luna was hastening. Still to the left, in the wide-spread valley, ap THE PARTERRE, peared the noble castle with all its bat- tlements, and the principal part of the front now rebuilding ; — the lofty flag- crowned tower of the church immediately below it. The mass of the town, with its shipping sinking into a valley, on the right, the back-ground formed by our noble mountains faintly seen in distance. " It is nothing, that I went last night to the play, and saw young graceful Sid- dons — 'his very mother : and now for this dav, ' for aye to be remembered.' After crossing, with honest Kendal — the landlord of this signless house, Lancas- tria's beautiful bridge, we arrived, after four miles, where the sands commence : ocean rolling to the left, and such a uoble, diversified shore on the riglit as impoverishes description. The huge mountain of Ingleborough, the Gibral- tar of England, is at first the principal feature ; and the divine Claude, on liis own Tiber, never introduced more hap- pily his favourite Soracte. To the first landing, we passed over sands for nine miles. In the hollows, fishermen were collecting their prey. Towards the ter- mination of these first sands appeared the guide on horseback, at the side of the Eaii, so admirably painted by ^Irs. Rad- cliflfe. At the end of this water we met the Lancaster coach. After six miles of land the Ulverston sands commence, and with them the story of this never-to-be surpassed ride. To the left, ships sailing in the main sea — the light-house of Peel Castle just discernible : in front, the Eden of this place, Conishead Priory, standing at the base of an immense hill curtained with forest. More to the left, at the foot of high mountains, stone- built Ulverston, with its bay and ship- ping and white-tower church; then, a bare and craggy mountain, at whose foot the eye enters a bay of inexpressible richness, with the stupendous alps of ^Vestmoreland and Cumberland in dis- tant majesty, as sovereigns of the vale. To the right, the numerous woods of Holker-hall, with tiie seat of Lord George Cavendish. Ulverston is lovelily situated, and I have dined upon just- caught trout, fire-hot steaks, and deli- cious apple-pie, serenaded by a hand- organ ! 1 he aft<.Tnoon has biien spent in the paradise of Conisliead Priory— the roaring of a noble bull reverberated to the opponite Hhore ; and 1 have stolen a dear little dog, now lying at my side. Farewell ; God bless you ! I daro not jiromise to write aifain ; but if I do not, It will be my misfurtuue, not mv fault. " 11. WlllTt." " Not one lake has been ^-et beheld, though I have seen the mountains that environ them. To-morrow morning early, I purpose visiting Furness Abbe^', the finest ruin in F^ngland, seven miles distant ; and passing Coniston Lake in the evening, to the foot of Winander INIere. We passed an island this morning caHed Chapel Island, the window of the monastery only remaining, which is sin- gularly picturesque, and has been unno- ticed by all tourists ; it is the property of the enviable possessor of Conishead Priory, (Mr. Braddyll), one of the pre- sent members for Carlisle. At Preston I saw one of the governesses, who was told in her prison at Paris that she was sentenced to be drowned by Robespierre, but the tyrant died within the time. She still looks alarmed, and is in sad health." GREGORY IIIPKINS, ESQ. SURNAMED THE UNLUCKY. There is a grave, respectable kind of nonsense talked by grave, respectable persons, when the undoing of some dear friend is the subject, which is sure to make it out that " it was all his own fault." And a convenient aphorism it is, when they think it prudent to leave to their dear friend to get out of the difficulty, which, according to their amiable hypothesis, he has brought on himself. But I, Gregory Hipkins the Unlucky, deny the doctrine. I assert, that in ten cases out of twelve, it is a man's luck that strands him on the sands and shallows of his existence. In- dividuals there are, whom nature, in her grand scheme, seems to have made the pegs whereon she hangs the evils requisite to complete it. If Theophrastus had obliged us, amongst the huge budget of character- istics he has left us, with those of an unlucky man, they would probably have run tlius : — The Unlucky man is one who, hastening at the very last hour to give pledges of prosecution, meets on the way some one who detains him with a long story of a naval action, wiiich has just reached ti)e Pini'us, till ho is too late, and lias to pay a thousand draciimas to liis adversary : — or one, wlio liaving purcliased a new vestment to appear as a witness before the dicasts, on coming out of tiie bath, finds that a tiiief has walked off witli it : — or one, who turn- ing into another street to avoid an ill- favoured actpiaintance, perceives that ho ' haa thrust himself into a cul-do-i>ao. 10 THE PARTERRE. whilst his creditor is waiting for him at the entrance. But let us come to the real adversities of life. The same Gregory Hipkins maintains, that there are individuals who have heen predestined to mishap from their birth upwards — gifted with an aptitude to misfortune — a proclivity to ill — tossed, the mere playthings of fortune, from one vexation to another. Let them sail on what tack they please, they will make no way. The tide that bears onwards their competitors for wealth or fame, stagnates the moment they tempt it — the gale slumbers, and their idle canvass shakes into tatters. And a dismal voyage has it been to Gregory Hipkins the Unlucky. For ever has the current drifted him upon the unpropitious shoals and flats that lurked in his course, and at length left him in sorrow and seclusion, " the world forgetting, by the world forgot," unless a kind friend or tw o, like the philosophi- cal neighbours of Job that visited his dunghill to read him moral and econo- mical lectures upon his misery, comes now and then to prove to me that I have brought it all on myself. Admi- rable judges of the game, when the cards are down on the table! Has not Gre- gory Hipkins been invariably doomed to pla}^ on the losing seat 1 Oracles of re- trospective wisdom, has not ill-iuck dogged him from his cradle — hounding him as the Fury did Orestes 1 The earliest memorials of his childhood, are they not of floggings vicariously in- flicted for offences he was guiltless of — sums extorted for broken windows on the mere presumption of being seen near the locus in quo — pains and penalties suffered for plundering orchards, on no better proof than that of having passed close to the spot, or of an apple found in his pocket, however fairly purchased in market overt ' And in maturer life — what a serried phalanx of misadventures — minor cala- mities, petty mischances, you will per- haps tell me — but on that account, good Sir, not the more tolerable. The greater ones may call up the fortitude that breasts the surge, and rides in triumph over it ; but patience itself will sink un- der a prolonged struggle with the lesser but more importunate troubles that make up their want of power to crush, by their efficacy to sting and lacerate. Ridicu- lous it may seem to class them as griev- ances ; yet in the Manichean conflict of man's life, it is by means of such auxiliaries, that the evil principle con- trives to get the best of it. Repeatedly have 1 uttered the happiest impromptus, which some trifling accident of proxi- mity has stifled — sometimes at their birth, by the sudden flap of a door, or the instantaneous j'ell of a vociferous minstrel in the street — in one instance, by an old lady, who sneezed so inoppor- tunely, that the wittiest of bon-mots fell still-born from my lips. Never shall I forget — when dining with a party amongst whom I was particularly anxi- ous to shine — a certain physician's making a forcible seizure of the best thing I ever said, and by mere jockey- ship passing it off as his own, — a fraud which the unlucky circumstance of his sitting next to me secured from detec- tion. In the meanwhile, I had the luxury of hearing the applause with which it was received, though placed to the doctor's credit, the feelings of a gentleman forbidding me to put in a claim to it. At another time, urged to dine at a public meeting by some chari- table feeling little in unison with the state of my pocket, what was my cha- grin, whilst I was detaching the half- guinea I had destined for my subscrip- tion from two guineas which 1 Lad grasped along with it, to see them, by reason of a sudden jerk from an awk- ward booby who sat next to me, all tumbling into the plate together, to the great delight of tlie collector, who car- ried about the unlucky recipient of my unintentional munificence ! At other times, if allured by the less laudable motive of partaking in delicacies not often in my reach, I paid my guinea at the Albion, or at some other temple of good fare — the last fragment of the choicest delicacy — the last spoonful of green peas in April for instance — was sure to vanish the instant I applied for it — or, as I was disjointing " a gnarled and unwedgeable fowl," a duty which its accursed proximity forced upon me — my plate was sure to return from its boot- less mission to the vol-au-vent, or the becasse, for vihich I had kept it in abej'^ance. By tliis time you will suspect, from my thus scoring the words of proximity, that there is some specific Hipkinean theory relative to luck, which I have mustered these incidents to illustrate. And so there is. Accurately speaking, perhaps, luck, good or bad, is not pre- dicable of any human occurrence ; every cliiinge that happens to a thing, whe- ther sentient or inanimate, being only explicable by the action of something THE PARTERRE. 11 external upon it. But the doctrine of the true church respecting luck is this — that j-our weal or woe depends on cer- tain relative positions you hold involun- tarily, or have chosen spontaneously, to that which is proximately the cause of that weal or woe. If, hy your own free agency, your juxta-position to that which produces ill has brouglit tliat ill upon vou, you are the architect of your own misery. And of this, the world in its wonted tenderness to misfortune, will be sure to remind you. But if, wedged in bv a coercive force of circumstances which j-ou could neither evade nor re- sist, you have been compelled into tliat disastrous prorimitii, j'ou may call it, for want of a better term, ill-luck ; it being the necessary disposition of things, to which your consent was never asked. And this is what, in all ages, mankind have understood by luck. It is the fate of Homer — the destiny that hunted down the house of Atreus — the necessity whose scythed chariot cuts down the hopes and prosperities of man — the irreversible decree that went forth from the begin- ning, containing and controlling all things within its chain of adamant. This is the Hijikinean theory — nor has Hipkins the Unlucky found it without its uses. In sorrow, penury, the deser- tion of friends, and every circumstance of outward evil, he has called to mind the forced proiimities of his lot, and de- rived comfort from the reflection. In an evil hour, I chose the pursuit of the Bar. Without a friendly star, and guided only by the flickering taper of my own understanding, 1 scrambled over its rugged roads and through its deep sloughs — from practice to doctrine — from dry precedents and misshapen forms to some obscurely-perceived principle, that shot an uncertain ray on the chaos which they told me was the law of England. Happier circumstances would have given a liappier direction, or at least more of system and regularity to my studies. It is not true, oh ye asser- tors of general propositions, that poverty stimulates to exertion : it retards — it deadens exertion. It brings down tlio clear spirit from its ethereal as]>iratioiis to commune with gross and earthward cares. At Icngtli, however, 1 reached the bar, the tenniitm a quo. Alas ! the terminxu in quern was dark and distant. The decease of the individual, two days after niy call, who to that day hud scan- tily .suppli<-d the i!idi8[ieniiahlc ex|i)-n.ses of niy education from a htock which they had already cxhaiibted, left me nearly in the condition that suggested Jaffier's bit- ter thanksgiving to heaven, that he had not a ducat. He was not my parent, nor did I ever know that I had one. The want, however, of parental kindness I never felt, for he was in all other respects a parent, and all he had was expended upon my ill-starred ambition. On the 6th day of June, therefore, 1800, I awoke one fine morning in Trinity Term, with the sum of seven guineas in my pocket. It was a slender capital, but the last offices to my departed friend ab- sorbed every reflection ; nor was it till a week afterwards that I stared my actual situation in the face. In truth, it had a most repulsive look. I was drifting into deep water in a frail canoe, with scarce a pair of paddles to guide it ; — no being who cared for me, and no " revenue but my good spirits to feed and clothe me." This accursed profession, too — requir- ing an outlay of money so far bej'ond my means, my dreams even, of obtaining ; but it was my choice — a boyish choice, from which good advice might have di- verted me. And here I cannot but re- cur to the first determination of my mind towards the bar, partlj' because it shews what paltry accidents, at a given period of our existence, irretrievably dispose of the rest of it, and partly because it is illustrative of the aforesaid theory of contiguities. Whilst yet a boy, I was on a visit to an old gentleman at Bedford, whose bouse was closely — nay, inconve- niently contiguous to the town-hall, the noise and clamour of the assizes being heard distinctly in every apartment. This circumstance suggested to me, that I might as well hear the trial of a nisi- prius case, which had excited great ex- pectation. I therefore squeezed myself in, and began to take some interest in the proceedings. One of the leaders of the circuit was a prosy long-winded ser- geant, whose powers in addressing the jury, and ease and impudi-nce in puz- zling and disconcerting an adverse wit- ness, seemed, to my untutored apprehen- sion, the perfection of forensic talent ; and strange as it is, the voice and man- ner of this person retained their hold upon my judgment, long after it hud be- come conversant with better models. I sate near enough to him, inoreovor, to discern the number of guineas marked on his brief. JMy youthful emulation was instantly in a blaze ; and, C'orrcgio- like, I said, 1 too will be a barrister ! Thus I exclaimed in my foolisliness — and thus my dosiros were hliudly lixoil 12 THE PARTERRE. upon the profession, that was the corner- stone of my evil fortunes. Yet though I began under all the dis- couragements of penurj'', I abated not one jot of heart or hope. I prided my- self upon an excellent classical education, and upon this I had grafted a respectable stock of municipal lore. Nor was I a stranger to some internal convictions, that even with such unequal chances, I ought, and therefore should, distance the greater number of my competitors. It was a most defective syllogism. For though my attendance in the court was unremitted, term after term I sat amongst the undistinguished occupants of the back row. Term after term I answered the usual question of the Chief Justice — " Any thing to move, sir? " with " No, my lord," and the usual bow. Term after term I listened to the jests and plaj'ful allusions of my fellow-juniors, to our common want of success. Light of heart, and backed with the purses of friends and parents, they could afford to laugh. To me it was the bitterest of ironies. I lived I knew not how, and was alike ignorant how I should live on the morrow. Westminster Hall, chilly sepulchre of the hopes that blossomed in the paths of my early manhood ! beneath thy cobwebbed roofs, how oft have breathed the sighs of plundered suitors— but oftener still, the subdued and stifled sigh of the famished barrister pacing thy drear}'' pavement — the tear stealing down his cheek, as, with weariness of heart, he bethinks himself how he is to provide for the necessities of the day ! Grave of my summer prospects ! I have now left thee ; but even now the pangs of that fevered state, half aspiration, half de- spair, (how much worse than fixed, as- sured indigence), still recur to me as the legend of some fearful dream ! One afternoon, (the morning bad been consumed in one of those unrequited pilgrimages to Westminster Hall), I was broiling my dinner at the homeless fire of my chambers, when a double rap in- terrupted my culinary labours. Having risen to answer it, with no great alacrity indeed, for I had few visitors but duns, imagine my surprise, when an attorney's clerk, walking into my room, laid a brief on my table and a fee of six guineas, with the usual supernumerary half- crown for the clerk, and then hastily descended the staircase. Was it a dream, or, better late than never, had merit been discovered, — or was it a mistake ^ The latter hypothesis was little to my mind, so I would not entertain it for a moment. I pretend not to describe what I felt. The returning springtide of hope and joy rushed through my frame. Ye, who endeavour to form a conception of the feelings of a young barrister when his first brief greets his eyes,— abandon the task. They are not to be portrayed by any limner. Six guineas — precursors of hundreds more, hid in the prolific womb of the future — it was gladness even to ecstasy. My slenderness of purse had occasioned a long suspension of payment to my poor laundress, she herself strug- gling with the ills of poverty, and a brood of little ones. I flew across the square of the Inner Temple to her hum- ble abode, reckless of the pots of porter I overturned in my way, and too rapid in my flight to hear the execrations of those whose equilibrium I had unsettled. I threw into her lap four of the pieces so auspiciously vouchsafed to me, feasted upon the gratitude with which she re- ceived them, and returned to my cham- bers to eat my meal, or rather to feed upon the folios of my brief, which I soon began to unfold, chinking at the same time the two remaining guineas, as they discoursed a music not the less eloquent to my feelings for the pleasing uses to which the four others had been applied. — Treacherous satisfaction ! In about an hour, a brisk knocking announced an apparition I would gladly have exorcised into the Red Sea. It was the attorney himself, to inquire about the brief which his clerk had delivered at my chambers, instead of the contiguous chambers occupied by a barrister of some standing ; but the youth had as- sured me he had been particularly di- rected to my chambers, and though there was no name of counsel on the back, it being no uncommon omission, I was satisfied that it had arrived at its right destination. When it was explained, however, by my new visitor, I made what I conceived every requisite apology, ingenuously avowing, as I placed the residue in his hand, the appropriation of four guineas, with a promise in a few days to repay him the deficiency. " Set- tle that matter," rejoined the churlish attorney, " with Mr. C I shall pay him the two guineas, and refer him to you for the rest." I did not quarrel with the proposal, assured that there was not a man of honourable feelings or de- cent manners at the i!nglish bar who would thiuk harshly of me for an inno- cent error. I was deceived. The Eng- lish bar contained many such persons, and no doubt does at this day. No THE PARTERRE. 13 sooner had the attorney left Mr. C — , tbau the latter rushed in, and, in no measured phrase, began abusing me for the " trick " I had played him. The word did not suit me, as he liimself perceived bv my instant application to the poker, which I intended making the arbiter of the dispute, had he not sullenly re- tired. His brutishness drove me to tiie expedient of pawning the only legacy of my deceased friend, a silver hunting- watch ; a resource of no mean use in the wavs and means of one so unencumbered with wealth. In itself the incident of the brief was insignificant, and so I considered it at the time. It proved afterwards a link in the chain of those inauspicious conti- guities, which I call ill-luck. Their sinister influence on the fortunes of Gregorv Hipkins will not be denied, even by those who reject his theory. So far forth, ye impugners of the Hipkinean hypothesis, my conduct has not been my fate. Nor, perhaps, shall I be found more the accomplice of my own evil fortunes in the sequel. By some means hardly worth specifying, but chieflj- through the kindness of one who himself wanted the little aid he imparted, I was enabled to join the Circuit. I arrived at .Maidstone just as the Bar were sitting down to dinner, of course taking the lower end of the table, as became a decorous junior. To my infinite astonishment, however, my re- ception was a freezing one. No hand, as is usual on such occasions, was stretch- ed out to greet me. It was clear I had incurred what might be called a pro- fessional proscription. How I had in- curred it was a mystery. I ate my dinner notwithstanding ; but no one, I observed, asked me to join in a glass of wine, or addressed to me one syllable of discourse. This was perplexing, and [ remained for some minutes in no very enviable state of feeling. Yet my own bosom knew no ill, and I shrunk not from the studied contempt of wiiich I was the object. At last, observing a barrister whose looks I did not dislike, leaving the room, I followed liiin, trust- ing to 6nd in him some 8ym[)athy for a young man who had innocently fallen under condemnation, and besought him to explain the myst<'ry. " Mr. ni[ikiiiH, is it possible," he said, " you should be uiiapprizod of our deter- mination after dinner to discuss your admissibility to the (!ircuit-tahle ? ' " Admiiiftibility ! Is it called iu ques- tioa ? " " You will hear soon. It is the awkward aftair of a brief, intended for the gentleman occupying the chambers next to your own, and the appropriation of the fee to your own uses." " Heavens ! am I accused of theft 1 " " Whatever you are accused of, your defence will be heard ; and if you are innocent, you have nothing to fear." " Defence 1 Never will I make one," was my reply. " He who defends him- self under such an imputation, half admits it to be just." The barrister, not entering into my refinements, shrugged up his shoulders, and went his way. I retired also, with the twofold resolve to bid adieu to bar and barristers, after I had obtained from the person, whose inauspicious proximity to my chambers had brouglit this per- secution on mv head, a written recanta- tion of what he had said to my prejudice ; it being clear that he must have spoken of me unfairly and untruly. Nor was it long before I obtained, in his own hand-writing,the attestation I demanded. In strength and size he was a Polyphe- mus, (as to manners, the Cyclops would have appeared polished gentlemen by his side) and might have jerked me out of his window, had he been so minded ; but he quailed in every limb whilst he was writing and describing the docu- ment of his shame. This I instantly forwarded to the senior of the Circuit, by whom I was unanimously acquitted, and Mr. C — severely stigmatized for his baseness. Indeed, it was pure defe- cated malice on his part, to throw so false a colouring upon an innocent mis- take. The man died not long ago, un- honoured and undistinguished in his profe.ssion, and neither loved nor re- spected out of it. And there is one, the gentlest of her kind and sex, who having taken the liber- ty which Alexander indulged to Parme- nio, of peeping over my shoulder as I was recording this passage ot my history, asks me, in the tone of artectionato remon- strance, why I did not brave the incjuiry with tlie pride and confidence of an innocent man ! Friend of my later days, prolonged by your cares — never may you know the ragged film out of which the world spins its judgments ! Dream on, dear creature, the dream that tells voii they are swayed by justice and virtue. Other men, I admit, miglit have done so, and been acquitted, and taken a seat at the same hoard, stunned witli congratulations on all sides, from those whusu hearts yearuud to convict u THE PARTERRE. him. Not so Gregory Hipkiiis the Unlucky. His inward, his outward pride, — the whole bundle of habits and opinions that make up his individuality, forbade it. He would have been an outcast from himself — a thousand times worse than an exile from the whole herd of humanity — had he bowed to such a jurisdiction. Where moral infamy is the question, inquiry is conviction. Infinitely did I prefer having it supposed that 1 had done what I was accused of, than that I was capable of doing it. From this time things went on with me indifferently. Days revolved, bring- ing on the usual changes in their round. The sterility of winter was succeeded by the second life of spring ; but there was no second life to my black coat, wliich had arrived, through successive trans- migrations of colour, at that dingy brown which is generally considered as its euthanasia. Was I to sink without an effort "? I should not, indeed, have met with much interruption in so doing. The whole world was before me, and I might choose what hole or comer I liked to die in. Indolence, for penury is naturally indolent and irresolute, came over me, or I might have tried my chance in the field of literary labour, which was not then overrun, as it is now, with half-pay officers and the literature of the quarter-deck. Yet I shrunk from the hemming and hawing of booksellers, editors, and critics, and gave up the notion. To beguile unpleasant reflections, I occasionally heard the debates of the House of Commons, which, at that un- reforming era, were really worth listen- ing to. Your ears were not then shocked with the coarse Lancastrian burr of tedious delegates from the clothing dis- tricts. Fox, Pitt, Windham, were in the fulness of their fame, and the setting glories of Burke were still above the horizon. I observed the reporters ply- ing their nightly labours, and under- standing that they were not badly paid, again I said with Corregio, " 1 too will be a reporter." I could not, it is true, write short-hand, but I could rely upon a strong memory, having more than once borne away an entire speech of one of those great men, with a truth and fidelity that rendered it at once, as a verbal and intellectual copy, far superior to the reports of the papers. In particular, I addressed myself to the peculiar cha- racter of Fox as a speaker, having often heard it remarked, that it resembled that of Demosthenes. I found the parallel, however, erroneous. In i ling or sarcastic interrogatory, in rapid lightning flashes of indignation, wither- ing where it fell, there was some ana- logy. But the compression of Demos- thenes, close and adamantine, — even the graces, equally the result of severe, per- haps midnight toil, that play over his discourses, like the smiles of the terrific ocean, rendered his manner unlike that of Fox, whose eloquence, seemingly impeded by the rapidity of his concep- tions, and like a great stream hiding itself among tangled thickets, and then re-appearing in its full expanse of waters, rushed forth like a torrent from his soul. In Fox's reasoning, I thought also that I could discover what was too evanescent for the commonplace reporter, a refined logic, conducting to the most beautiful of moral demonstrations. (Concluded at p. 24.^ PRIVY PURSE EXPENSES IN THE REIGN OF HENRV THE EIGHTH. The following extracts are taken at ran- dom, from a list of the privy purse expenses of the family of Lestrange of Hunstanton, given by the Society of Antiquaries in their last volume of the Archaeologia. They were communicated by Daniel Gurney, Esq., who, in an introductory article, observes that " the average money value of things in these accounts is about one-tenth of what they are at present ; and where this does not hold good, it probably arises from the article being more or less scarce by com- parison with the present day ; manufac- tured goods being of higher value from the absence of any but the most simple machinery at that period ; and the very great variation in the price of wheat; shewing the uncertainty of the supply." " 11 Henry 8, 1519. s. d. Fyrst. Pd to John Brown, for ix. stone of beffe . . . iiij j ob Itm. to a wiff of Vngaldes- thorpe for vj Gees . . xx ,, for vj Checons .... vj ,, for vj lb. Candell ... vij ob ,, for a gallon and di. of Rynnyshe Wyne . . xviij ,, Pd Robert Grome for v. barrels and di. of Bere . xj ,, Pd for a pecke of otemele iij „ Pdforvij.dussenCandylls viij vj ,, Pd to John Brown, of Lynne, for a hoggyshed of Claryett Wyne . . xxiij iiij THE PARTERRE. 15 Pd to y* same John for j. d. C wejtt of grete Reasons (Raisin) v Pd to hvm for a teppenett of FygETS ij Pd to bym for vjtb.Almans xviij Pd to — Fewterer of I'horn- ham for xiiij. cLalderof C'olys and di ... liiij Pd to Robert Grome for ij . barrels of Sengill Here y' was droQcke wban be ware at Anm . . . ij viij Pd for a payer of Sbowse, for Hove of y« Kech_vn vij Pd for a payer of Sbowe for James y« Fawken . ix Pd for a paA'er of Gloves for my xM aster ... j MISCELLANIES. CONTRIVANCE FOR F.FFF.CTING THE ESCAPE OF NAPOLEON FROM ST. HELENA. It is not, perbaps, generally known tbat a few years since a vessel was engaged to be built at Battersea, by tbe renowned Johnson tbe smuggler, for tbe purpose of liberating Buonaparte from tbe island of St. Helena. Tbe vessel was about 90 feet long, and of tbe burden of 100 tons. It was built of half-incli plank ; tbe grain of two of sucb planks was placed in a vertical aud tbeothertwo in aborizontal position. Tbese planks were so well caulked and cemented together, tbat tbe thickness of tbe sides of tbe vessel did not exceed tbat of an ordinary washing-tub. The masts were so contrived, tbat they could be lowered to a level with the deck, and tbe whole vessel might be sunk in shoal water, with the crew on board, without danger. Ample means were provided for supplying the vessel with fresh air. Tbe plan was, to sail up at night, within a short distance of St. Helena, and sink the vessel until the next or some sub- Ber]uent night, when tbe emperor would he enabled to make his escape to the beach, at which lime the vessel was to be raised, Buonaparte to get on board, and sail away in the dark. It happened, however, tbat Buonaparte died before tlie vessel was quite finished ; and it is a curious coincidence that she was to be co])i>ered the very day the news of bis death arrived. Johnson was to have re- ceived 10,000/. an soon as tbe vessel bad got into blue watt-r, exclusive of tbe re- ward to be given in case the enterprise liufceeded. 'I'his JohniMin bad jireviouhly offered his hervices to the Admiralty, and affirmed tbat he could blow up any ship without being hurt. Accordingly, a trial was given him in the Thames, accompanied by a boatswain to one of his ^lajesty's ships, who bad been mar- ried ouly a week before, in a boat of a similar construction to the one before described, to a barge moored in the middle of the stream. They sunk their boat, made fast the torpedo to the bottom of the barge, and lighted the match. Johnson then perceived tbat his vessel remained fast, having got (as tbe sailors express it) his cable athwart hawse of tbe barge. Upon which he pulled out his watch, aud having looked at it atten- tively, told tbe boatswain tbat he had only two minutes aud a half to live. Upon this the boatswain began to make grievous lamentations — " Oh, my poor dear Nancy !" said the boatswain. " what will she say ?" — " Avast, blubbering," said Johnson ; " doff your jacket, and be ready to stuff' it in the hawse-hole while I cut the cable." Upon saying this, Johnson seized an axe, and cut the cable. The boatswain stuffed his jacket into the hole, and they got out of the reach of the torpedo, which blew up tbe barge. A REBELLION OF FEMALES IN MADA- GASCAR. A FEMALE rebellion took place a little while ago, in consequence of tbe follow- ing extraordinary grievance : — It was the privilege of persons of that sex to dress the king's hair ; and in the beauty of their long black locks, both men and women take great pride. When Prince Rataffe returned to Madagascar from England, his head had been shorn of its barbarous honours, and converted into a curly crop. Radama was so pleased with this foreign fashion that he deter- mined to adopt it, — to rid himself, pro- bably, of the periodical plague of hair- dressing, which, accordingtothe costume of bis country, was a work of no little labour on the part of his female barbers, and of suffering patience on bis part. Accordingly, he took an opportunity, when he happened to be at some distance from his capital, to have his head polled nearly to tbe scalp. His first appear- ance in public, so disfigured, threw the women, whose business was thus cut up, into ecjual consternution and frenzy. They rose in mass, and their clamours threatened no little public commotion. But Hadama was not a man to be in- timidateil or averted from his pur])ose, by such means. His measures were severe aud decisive. He surrouiicled the whole insurgent mob witli a body of 16 THE PARTERRE. well-disciplined soldiers, and demanded the immediate surrender of four of their ringleaders. These being given up, he turned to his guards and said, " Will no- body rid me of these troublesome wo- men 1" when those present rushed upon the poor creatures, and slaughtered them at once. Radama then commanded the dead bodies to be thrown into the midst of their companions, who were kept three days without food in the armed circle of military, while the dogs, before their eyes, devoured the putrid corpses of their friends. The consequences did not stop here ; infection broke out, some died, and the rest fled, and returned to their homes. — Bennet and Tyerman's Voyages and Travels. THE GOD OF THIEVES. Having occasion to recur to the former state of society in the Sandwich islands, we have just heard that, among other idols, there was a god of thieves, held by his worshippers in the highest honour. He was called Hiro ; and among his votaries were many of the cleverest men, not from the lower ranks only, but even some of the principal chiefs. The arts and con- trivances which these resorted to, in order to obtain the property of their neighbours and strangers, proved that this strange representative of Satan was served with more than ordinary devotion. His rites were celebrated in darkness, at the change of the moon. While the husband prowl- ed forth to rob, the wife went to the marae to pray for his success ; yet, if success were not always found, it would be with an ill grace if they should charge Hiro with bad faith towards his fol- lowers ; for faithful as they were in making vows, they were knavish enough in per- forming them : thus, if a hog had been stolen, an inch or two of the tail was deemed sufficient thank-offering to him, THE ALMANACK-MAKER AT GVDDUCK. The festival of the new year com- mencing with the new moon, to-day, we, being at the village of Gudduck, went to the police-office, (which serves for a town hall,) where nearly the whole population was assembled, at 8 o'clock in the evening. The oldest Brahmin in the place, and all the principal men, were seated upon a carpet at one end of the room. Among these was the astro- loger of the district, whose business it was 10 read over the new almanack, or, at least, announce to the good people the most remarkable events which it fore- told. After a prologue of music, singing, and dancing (as usual) by girls, the astro- loger began to act bis more solemn mum- meries. The book was lying before him ; a small quantity of rice and some betel- nuts were then poured on the ground at his feet ; after which a few green leaves, and a little red powder, on a piece of paper, were brought. First he made a brief poojah, or prayef ; he then mixed some of the rice with the red powder, and distributed the grains among those who sat near him. A piece of camphor was next placed on a green leaf, and, being ignited, was carried round, when all that pleased held their hands over the flame, and then folded them in the atti- tude of supplication. Afterwards the betel-nuts and cere-leaves were given away by him to persons on the right hand and on the left. All this was done over the new almanack, which being thereby consecrated, the astrologer began to gabble over its pages with marvellous fluency, but, apparently, with not less precision. This fool's calendar (as it was assuredly in many parts, though equally suited to wiser men's occasions in others,) contained the usual heteroge- neous prognostications, calculations, and lucubrations on the weather, the hea- venly bodies, the prevailing vices, and the impending judgments, which charac- terise similar compositions in Christian Europe. The ceremony was concluded with another fit of music, singing, and dancing ; after which chaplets of sweet- scented flowers, sandal-wood, snufF, and plantains, were presented, as new year's gifts, to the chief inhabitants and those strangers who happened to be there, — among the rest to ourselves, with a mo- dest expression of a hope, on the part of the astrologer, that the gentlemen would give him cloth for a mantle." A GIANT. — Grimstone, in his history of the Netherlands, speaks of one Klaes van Knyten, a man of enormous size and stature. " This giant, (says he), was born in the village of Sparenwoude, near Haarlem : his father and mother were of ordinary stature, yet no man might be compared unto him, for the tallest men of all Holland might stand under his arm and not touch him ; and yet there are commonly seen at this day (1627) verie tall men in that countrie. He would cover four ordinary soles of shoes with his foot ; he terrified little children to behold him ; and yet there was not any roughness or malice in him, but was gentle and mild as a lambe. For if he had been fierce and cruel answerable to his greatnesse and proportion, Lee might have chased u whole armie before him." Till' PARTF.RRR. 17 — I^SPSISP^iiii • r. 18. KARL WYNCK. A LEGEND OF AMSTERDAM. (For the Parterre). " In our o«"ne times Sathan hath bin busie «-Uh divers persons, and in the time of our torefathers the de\Tls were wont to plale strnnRe pranke!! with men." iVitchrraft Unveil I 1<>4'.*. " I 'M a liappy fellow — a very hajipy fellow ! " exrliiiiiu'd Karl Wyrick, a jioor tailor, who dwelt in one of tlie old- fashioned narrow streets of Amsterdam. " The money I shall receive from the Burpoma.ster Harmen for making: this cloak, shall be placed alon^' with that I have already laid up, and, if fortune does not jilt in«', I'll wed my little Rilizabeth before I am six months older." So savnng, he rubbed his hands to- gether with much satisfaction, and draw- ing his legs still closer under him, re- sumed his needle, sinpinj; merrily as he worked. Hut fate interferes with the humble as well as with the exalted ; and the cup of felicity is as often dashed from the lips of Uiilors, as from those of more digiiilied jirofessions; and Karl had •oon experience of the? truth of this axiom. His song, which in the fulness of his heart he was carolling at the top of his voice, was suddenly hushed, for a handsomely dressed cavalier (Lisliiti); violently into the house, seized an old sword which hung over the (ire-place, and disappcareil as 'juickly as he hail entered. "This is strange!" muttered Karl; " my \-isitor does not look like a thief." So he flung aside his work, jumped from the board, and running to the door, beheld at a short distance two gentle- men engaged in fierce strife. One of the combatants almo.st instantly fell dead, while the victor, casting away his weapon, fled precipitately up the street. Karl paid little attention to the fugi- tive, but flew to the assistance of the fallen cavalier, whose haiul still grasped his rapier : he had been thrust through the heart with the sword which had remained for many years a harmless occupant of the nail over the poor tailor's fire-place, but now lay near the corpse of the cavalier stained with gore, — the sight for tlu' moment de|)rived Karl of speech and motion. His horror in- creased a-s he heard several voices in the crowd which had been drawn to the s])ot, denounce him as the assassin. Kail gave himself up for a lost man : — he. attempted to explain the matter, but he did it in such a confused manner and trembled so vicjiently, that many of the bystanders, who knew him to be a peace- able and inoflTensive young man, now considered him guilty ; in short, he was immediately liurrie(l off to prison as a miirdirer. Here he was left to feel the horrors of his miserable situation : he |i.'ici'<| his dungeon with a tliroliliing heart and racking' brain, and thon^lit on his blightetl hopes and his sweetheart, c 18 THE PARTERRE. who he felt persuaded M'ould erase his very name from her remembrance. He had, however, the melancholy satisfac- tion to find that this was not the case : Elizabeth was soon at the prison, where in the arms of her lover, she endeavoiired to whisper the comfort she herself so much needed. But the " gentle reader," as in all such cases, is requested to imagine the grief of a young couple un- der such heavy aflliction. The next day came, and a priest was ushered into Karl's prison. There was a something in the countenance of the ecclesiastic which the prisoner did not fancy: his grey, sharp, twinkling eye had more of cunning than of sanctity in it, and his whole manner was unpre- possessing. His subsequent advice cor- roborated the prisoner's suspicions. " Karl Wynck," said the priest, " you are a lost man, unless you make a bold effort for your deliverance." " That is too true, father ; but I see no means of escaping frpm this dungeon, from which I shall soon be dragged to the scaffold. Oh ! 'tis terrible to have one's name pronounced with horror by the good, and scoffed at by the wicked ; but I die innocent of murder." " This is but idle prating, my son," interrupted the priest ; " will you profit by my advice, or will you die that death you dread so much?" " I would fain hear your counsel, father." •'' Hearken then," rejoined the priest ; " the keeper of the gaol has a son who was tliis day married, and the wedding will be kept in the rooms above : an hour before midnight every one will be engaged in the revel, except the man whose duty it is to see all safe. When he enters your dungeon, use this knife resolutely — why, what ails thee, boy ? " cried the priest, perceiving Karl's already pallid features become still paler. " Oh father !" said the poor prisoner, " counsel me not thus; t/iat would indeed be murder — I cannot do it." " Fool ! " muttered his adviser as his thin lip curled with scorn : "is it for such as thee to judge of sin or virtue ? hast thou not heard how Moses slew the Egyptian who smote his countryman ? was that" — Karl heard no more. " Begone ! (he cried) begone, tempter ! I have heard how the blessed Saint Anthony was beset by devils who afiect- ed sanctity, and I begin to fear that thou art on£ ot that hellish legion. Begone, Isay!" The priest (or devil, if you please) smiled another dark smile, and his eyes gleamed like bright coals of fire. " Idiot," he muttered, as he turned upon his heel, " thou art lost ! Perish in thine own obstinacy !" Karl heard the door close upon his visitor, and falling on his knees, uttered a prayer to heaven. The stranger who had been killed was not kno^^^l to any of the town's-people. He had that day arrived at Amsterdam, and from his appearance was judged to be a gentleman. Karl was put upon his trial, and the evidence against him being deemed conclusive, he was condemned to die. In vain did he urge his inno- cence; in vain did he repeat his story of the combat between the two cavaliers, and how the slayer had procured the weapon with which he had destroyed his antagonist ; and equally vain were the numerous testimonials of good conduct and sobriety which his neighbours ten- dered in his favour. Poor Karl was condemned to die ; and though pitied by many, was thought deserving the fate to which he had doomed another. The day of execution arrived, and Karl took leave of his dear Elizabeth with a bursting heart ; but he resolved to meet death like a man, and walked with a firm step to the place of death. Ascending the scaffold, he looked with a hurried glance upon the vast crowd which had assembled to see him die. A body oi the town-guard sm'rounded the scaffold to keep off the throng which completely filled the square, while every window and house-top was occupied by the burghers and their families. The me- lancholy sound of the death-bell mingled with the murmur of the immense crowd, from which Karl endeavoured to avert his face ; but as he did so, his eye rested on the athletic figure and stem features of -Xhe executioner, whose brawny arms, bared to the elbows, reposed on his huge two-handed sword, which, already un- sheathed, gleamed brightly in the mom^ ing's sun. Alas ! thought Karl, what preparation for the death of a poor tailor 1 A priest, unobserved, ascended the scaffold and knelt by his side : it was he who had visited him in prison. "Karl Wynck," whispered the temptfr, " I can save thee even now." "How?" murmured the tailor, his blood curdling at the sound of that voice. " Acknowledge thyself mine, and I will transjjort thee in an instant to some far distant country. Kaii started on his feet so suddenly, THE PARTERRE. 19 tnat the guards grasjied their halberds, sujiposing he meditated an escape, but he had no such intention. "Avaunt, fiend!" he cried, shudder- ing \'iolently; "remember the reproof which our blessed Lord gave thee of old, Sathanas, avaunt !" The headman's assistant here advanc- ed, and bade Karl prepare himself. The sufferer observed that he was ready, and begged that the false priest might be dismissed ; but when they turned to bid him begone, he was nowhere to be seen. Karl knelt again to receive the fatal blow; the headsman approached and raised his huge sword, but suddenly withheld the blow, for a thousand voices bade him desist, and a horseman was seen to urge his foaming steed through the dense crowd. "Hold! hold !" cried the new comer, " for Jesu's sake forbear — stay the exe- cution. / am the slayer, and that poor man is innocent of murder !" It was, indeed, the cavalier who had possessed himself of Karl's sword ; and the poor youth, overcome by this unexpected rescue, fell senseless into the arms of the executioner. " Sir," said the cavalier, surrendering himself to the oflicer of the town- guard, " the crime is mine, if crime it be to destroy one of the most barefaced villains that ever scourged society. I am a gentleman of Leghorn, my name is Ber- nardo Strozzi: the man I slew was of good family, but he robbed me of all I valued in this world, and I resolved to seek him wherever he tied. Chance led me to your city, and walking out \vithout my sword, 1 met my foe in the street. He would have avoided me, but I resolved to possess myself of even a knife, so that I might destroy him. I luckily seized a sword in the house of this poor man ; vengeance nerved -my arm, and he fell, almost as soon as our weapons had crossed. The combat was fair and efjual. 1 left Amsterdam im- mediately ; and at the next town, learnt that another had been condemned for the slayer. Tlie saints be praised that my good steed bore me here in time !" Oowds pressed around Karl to con- gratulate him u])on his escape from death, while the cavalier jilaced in his hands a purse well filled witli gold. " Friend," naid he, " take this and be happy. I regret the misery you have •ufTered, but tliis may make you some amends." Our tale i" ended ; but as nome may need a postscript, we add for their espe- cial information, that Karl, with such an acquisition of wealth, forgot the suffer- ing he had endured, and was the happiest man in Holland. He married his dear Elizabeth, by whom he had many chil- dren, became rich, and died at an ad- vanced age. The house in which he lived, was formerly shewn to the curious, and there was an inscription over the door, recording in a few brief lines the history we have endeavoured to give in detail; but modem improvements have crept even into Holland, and the dwelling of honest Karl Wynck is no longer shewn to the inquisitive traveller. A. A. A. THE BARONIAL HALL IN TARNAWAY CASTLE.* Palace of thunder! mighty hall, Built on the Pagan temple's fall ; Where the sacrificial splendour. Wreathed flamen, virgins tender. Hymned th' Olympian idol's sway, Hail gigantic Tarnaway ! Imperious pile ! when first you soared Triumphant o'er the lightning's lord, — Over shattered fane and altai-,— Did your builder never falter. Thinking there must come a day Of doom to feudal Tarnaway? — High-titled house ! when round thy rooms Red tapestry hung its silken blooms, Minstrel harps the dance entwining, Rubied cups and gold lamps shining, Did no warning demon say, ' Darkness will come to Tarnaway?' Darkness ts come! thy Titan hall Hath not tottered to its fall ; But thy pomps are all departed ; — By thy recreant lords deserted, N\'hat a lumpish pile of clay Mocks old towcry Tarnaway! Yet I reverence thy form. Fane of th' unworshipixd fiend of storm I Though no more the Randolf's towers Fro\^^l above their beechen bowers. And the dull builders of the day Have libelled ancient Tarnaway. Still thy hall, high Randolf's hall, — Sole relic, and chief boast of all, — Tells too magnificent a story Of thy vanished graci' and glory, Not to lauKh at the decay That overshadows Tarnaway. • Supposed to Jiave been built on the hite of an ancient temple to Ju|)iter Ta- ranis; so calli'd froi'.i the Norse word, Tuian, signifying thunder. c'2 20 THE PARTERRE. The sculptured chestnut's Norman roof, Soaring imperially aloof, With sublime acclaims hath trembled, WTien the princedom's power assembled, Making the angry thunder-bray Faint in the Hall of Tarnaway I And I have sate in Moray's chair, (That lion of this lofty lair!) All his subtle snares untwimng, All his foul designs divining, Forged, while his queen a captive lay, And he usurped at Tarnaway ! — Oh, storied house ! with claims like thine, Lament no more thy pomp's decline, Though the shrine no longer cliiim thee, Though unwieldy walls defame thee. Those, who tread this hall, shall say, "Behold thy temple, Tarnaway!" Note. — Tarnaway was a magnificent old castle, or rather palace, built in all the freakish splendour of the Flemish or Burgimdian style of architectme. In its vast hall (built by Thomas Randolf, the nephew of Bruce), the puissant Earls of Moray used to assemble the inferior barons, and they, in turn, were attended by the several ranks of their house and maintenance, till a puisne parliament was displayed in all its ceremony and importance — the great feudal superior being the comes or earl, who occupied an elevated seat or siege, as it was term- ed, in the centre of the dais; the minor barons, &c. being duly ranked on each side. It would hold upwards of a thou- sand men fully armed. This illustrious and venerable fabric has of late years been pulled down, with the sole excep- tion of the hall ; and the most execrable mass of deformities that ever teemed from builder's brain has arisen in its stead. But it was built only to be deserted, so it did not much matter! It stands about four miles to the north of Forres. HORACE GUILFORD. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. ' ECCENTRICITIES OF THE AUTHOR OF "DOCTOR SYNTAX." In the Life of Mrs. Siddons, by the poet Campbell, there is an amusing account of the author of Doctor Syntax, which we here place before our readers. It is not a solitary instance of a man of genius playing the vagabond; but Combe was no ordinary performer, as the following extract will demonstrate. "Mr. Combe's history is not less re- markable for the recklessness of his early days than for the industry of his ma- turer age, and the late period of life at which he attracted popularity by his talents. He was the nephew of a Mr. Alexander, an alderman of the city of London; and, as he was sent first to Eton college, and afterwards to Oxford, It may be inferred that his parents were in good circumstances. His uncle left him sixteen thousand pounds. On the acquisition of this fortune he entered himself of the Temple, and in due time was called to the bar. On one occasion he even distinguished himself before the Lord Chancellor Nottingham. But his ambition was to shine as a man of fashion, and he paid little attention to the law. \\liilst at the Temple, his courtly dress, his handsome liveries, and, it may be added, his tall stature and fine appear- ance, procured him the appellation of Duke Combe. Some of the most exclu- sive ladies of fashion had instituted a society wliicb was called the Coterie, to which gentlemen were admitted as visi- tors. Among this favoured number was the Duke Combe. One evening. Lady Archer, who was a beautiful woman, but too fond of gaudy colours, and who had her face always lavishly rouged, was sitting in the Coterie, when Lord Lyttel- ton, the graceless son of an estimable peer, entered the room evidently intoxi- cated, and stood before Lady Archer for several minutes with his eyes fixed on her. The lady manifested great indig- nation, and asked why he thus annoyed her. " I have been thinking," said Lord Lyttelton, " what I can compare you to, in your gaudy colouring, and you give me no idea but that of a drunken pea- cock." The lady returned a sharp answer, on which he thiew the contents of a glass of wine in her face. All was confusion in a moment ; but though several noble- men and gentlemen were present, none of them took up the cause of the insulted female till Mr. Combe came forward, and, by his resolute behaviour, obliged the offender to withdraw. His spirited conduct on this occasion gained him much credit among the circles of fashion ; but his Grace's diminishing finances ere long put an end to the fashionableness of his acquaintance. He paid all the penalties ofaspendthrift, and was steeped in poverty to the very lips. At one time he was driven for a morsel of bread to . enlist as a private in the British army ; and, at another time, in a similar exi- gency, he went into the French service. From a more cogent motive than piety, he afterwards entered into a French mo- nastery, and lived there till the term of THE PARTERHE. 21 bis noviciate expired. He returned to Britain, and took service wherever he could get it ; but in all these dips into low life, he wa.-^ never in the least em- barrassed when he nut with his old ac- quaintance. A wealthy divine, who had known him in the best London society, recognised him when a waiter at Swansea actually trip|)ing about with the napkin under his arm, and, staring at him, exchiiined, " You cannot be Combe ? " '■ Yes, indeed, but I am," was the waiter's answer. He married tlie mistress of a noble lord, who promised him an annuity with her, but cheated liim ; and in re- venge he wTote a spirited satire, entitled "The Diaboliad." Among its subjects were an Irish peer and his eldest son, who had a quarrel that extinguished any little natural affection that might have evcrsubsisted between them. The father challenged the son to fight ; the son re- fused to go out with him, not, as he ex- pressly stated, because the challenger was his own father, but because he was not a gentleman After his first wife's death, Mr. Combe made a more creditable marriage with a bister of Mr. Cosway, the artist, and much of the distress which his imjiru- donce entailed upon him was mitigated by the assiduities of this amiable woman. For many years he subsisted by writing for the booksellers, with a reputation that might be known to many individuals, but that certainly was not public. He wrote a work, which was generally as- cribed to the good Lord Lyttelton, en- titled " Letters from a Nobleman to his Son," and " Letters from an Italian Nun to an English Nobleman," that professed to be translated from Rousseau. He published also several jjolitical tracts, that were trashy, time-serving, and scur- rilous. Pecuniary difficulties brought him to a permanent residence in the King's Bench, where he continued about twenty years, and for the latter i)art of them a voluntary inmate. One of his friends offered to effect a compromise with his creditors, but he refused the favour. " If I rom])oun(ied with my creditors, ' said Mr. Combe, " I should be obliged to sacrifice the little substance- which I possess, and on whiili I subsist in prison. These chambers, the best in the Bi-nch, are mine at the rent of a few shillings u-week, in right of my seniority ati a prisoner. .My luibits are become so sedentary, that if I liveit in the airiest it(|uarc of London, I slmuld not walk rounri it onn- in a month. I am con- tented in my <-licai> quarters." M hen he was near the 8ge of seventy, he had some literary dealings with Mr. Ackermann, the bookseller. The late caricaturist, Rowlandson, had ofteied to Mr. Ackermann a inmiber of draw- ings, representing an old clergyman and schoolmaster, who felt, or fancied him- self in lovewith the finearts, quixotically travelling during his holidays in (juest of the picturesque. As the drawings needed the explanation of letter-press, Mr. Ack- ermann declined to purchase them unless he should find some one who could give them a poetical illustration. He carried one or two of them to Mr. Combe, who undertook the subject. The bookseller, knowing his procrastinating temper, lefl him but one drawing at a time, which he illustrated in verse, without knowing the subject of the drawing that was next to come. The popularity of the " Ad- ventures of Dr. Syntax," induced Mr. Ackermann afterwards to employ him in two successive publications, " The Dance of Life," and " The Dance of Death," in England, which were also accompanied by Rowlandson's designs. It was almost half a century before the appearance of these works, that Mr. Combe so narrowly missed the honour of being Mrs. Siddons's reading-master. He had exchanged the gaieties of Lon- don for quarters at a tap-room in Wol- verhampton, where he was billeted as a soldier in the service of his Britannic Majesty. He had a bad foot at the time, and was limping painfully along the high street of the town, when he was met l)y an acquaintance who had known him in all his fashionable glory. This individual had himself seen better days, having ex- changed a siib-lieutenancy of marines for a strollershij) in Mr. Kemble's company. " Heavens!"said tlieastonished histrion, " is it jiossible. Combe, that you can bear this condition ? " " Fiddlesticks !" answered the ex-duke, taking a ])ini'h of snuff, "a philoso])lier can bear any- thing." The i)layer ere long introduced him to Mr. Roger Kemble ; but, by this time, Mr. Combe had become known in the jdace through his conversational ta- lents. A gentleman, passing tlirougli the |iublic-house, had obscrxcd liini reading, and, looking over liis slioulder, saw with surprise a co]>y of Horace. " What," said he, " my friend, can you read that I)ook in the original?" *' If 1 cannot," rei)lied Combe, " a great deal of money has been thrown away on my ednratioii." His landlord soon found the hlei^jy red- coat an atlraeliv r ornament to ills tap- room, which was filled ever) ni^'lit willi 22 THE PARTERRE. the wondering auilitovs of the learned soldier. They treated him to gratuitous potations, and clubbed their money to l)rocure his discharge. Roger Kemble gave him a benefit-night at the theatre, and Combe promised to speak an addaess on the occasion. In this address, he noticed the various conjectures that had been circulated respecting his real name and character ; and, after concluding the enumeration, he said, " Now, ladies and gentlemen, I shall tell you what I am." While expectation was all agog, he added, " 1 am — ladies and gentlemen, your most obedient humble servatit." He then bowed, and left the stage. LETTERS FROM THE LAKES. No. 2. THE REV. H. WHITE TO MISS . Ullswater, October Sd, 1795. " For the last ten days, dear , leisure has made her curtsy to admiration and delight, who have so fully occupied her place, as not even to allow a momentary cessation, till the present evening. In my last, I omitted to notice the immense flocks of sea-gulls that enlivened Lan- caster's first sands — some gracefully cir- cling with shev\'y, black tipt wings, either alighting or ascending ; but the majority were feeding in the little ponds left by the tide, occasionally flocking away in troops at the approach of the horses. At Lancastei-, that art might not insult nature, I went out of powder, and my head has been in admirable unison with this new world, this sublime Eden. " I ask no other proof," said an elegant female at Keswick yesterday, " of your being u-orthy to enjoy our matchless scenery." From dear Ulverston, my last was dated; its environs abound both in shady and exposed walks, the princi- pal leads through the neat church-yard to a level terrace, commanding the chan- nel and the to\vn, lined with seats, from whence you soon reach the foot of a Very steep mountain, whose summit com- mands the sand view before described, and peeps into a green valley, protected by the immense hills of Cumberland and Westmoreland. Wednesday, 23d Sep- tember, I took chaise for Furness Abbey; and if this wide extent of noble ruins, its overhanging night of woods peopled with ever-cawing rooks, its rapid stream, checked by fallen fragments, and foam- ing in rage over them, had been the sole object of my tour, I should not have considered it as an unwQrthy one. Thurs- day, 24th, ihejirst lake of this unrivalled country met my enraptured view; it was Coniston.— I and Sam broke our fast within a snug cove, where the lucid waters gently passed at our feet. Pas- tures stored •with cattle, or grain now collecting, descended to the very brim. Our road was shaded by trees,- which admitted partial gleams of Conistonia's sunny bosom — huge hills clothed with timber, were our immense barriers to the very skirts of the road. As we pro- ceeded, they closed around the head of the lake, and wonderfully elevated the view with them ; the water also changed, the wind arose, the billows swelled, till they became " tempest tost," and I'eared aloft theirwhite and angry heads, till they appearedno mean emblems of the mighty sea. Their roar was a grand accompa- niment to the wonderful scene. The head of Coniston has not been excelled, unless by that of Ullswater, to whose upper waves, the meads of Patterdale, its low-towered church, the numerous groves and humble cottages, crowd a- round as if embracing, and guarding the glassy mirror, that I'eflects and adorns their varied features. Beneath her Ma- jesty, who hangs forth, in point-lace ker- chief, like the covering of a breast of veal, at the pretty town of Hawkstead, I stayed from Sunday to Friday noon 25th, and then descended into a lovely valley, glow- ing with EsthAvaite Water, upon which the sun-beams spread diamonds. The road leads by its side for two miles, and at its croAvn two large promontories em- bowered in wood, rush into its waves, and create a scene of exquisite beauty. Leaving this liquid gem, we soon arrived at an almost precipitous ascent, and from its brow beheld majestic Windermere stretching to the right — a long breadth of water flowing beneath supreme majesty of rock. To the left our view was ob- structed by a sky-aspiring cliff", which had rolled down vast portions of stone beneath our feet, and appeared shudder- ing ly awful. As we descended the steep declivity, the lake shone forth, at hap])y peeps. At the bottom of the hill, the silver-edged billows welcomed us in soothing murmurs ; but owing to jutting elbows of the crag, we could only see across the lake, which here inlets and forms a reedy bay. We now passed at the foot of the terrific precipice, large gleams of the lake bursting upon us in exquisite contrast, till we gained an eminence that presented long reaches or animated waves on either hand studded with verdant islands, whose Queen bears a temple, with a lofty alcove containing THE PARTERRE. ao thirty-six rooms, and now the residence of Mrs. C. and her pretty squirrel-mouth- ed children. On the opposite shore the various picturesque coves, white villas, rich meadows, the church and village of Bowness, its pine-enveloped puisonage, and a wooded promontory that runs into the lake, frieudlily to land the passengers from the ferry-boat, set at nought all power of description. We landed at Bowness, where my honest friend, John Ulloek, landlord of the White Lion, with a countenance so open, so exactly indicating a laker, that I anti- cipated truly the civility and attention I afterwards experienced. Fortunately, no company was then there, and I ran up a flight of steps into the garden, over the little bowling-green, and took pos- session of a summer-house that looked down upon the matchless lake, the great island, the Hy-staff island, and the two Lily-of-the- Valley islands, where these lovely flowers bes|)read the surface as thickly as grass. Here the tea-tray was immediately brought, and I enjoyed the viands with positive happiness. The worthy rector, Mr. Barton's, arrival broke my reverie of bliss, and I learned that as he was rather an invalid, my assistance on the Sunday would be a kindness. Saturday 'iGth, the whole of the morning was spent upon the water, fishing (Sam's rod, for Perch), and sail- ing down to Rawlinson's Nab: the length of this king of the lakes, is thirteen miles. An agreeable party now were arrived at the inn, and after dinner we again launched forth, and landed at Belle- vue, .Mr. Curwen's island of forty-one acres, and from every side of it we enjoy ex- quisite views of Windermere, with its variegated shores. So high was the wind, that the placid lake became a stormy sea. Sunday '27th, walking forth to church, a mitred carriage i)assed me, and I instantly recollected divinity's lion. Or. Watson, Bishop of Llandaff. In ttature, in look, and in gesture, no less than in miiul, is he the grmltst of men. He is amongst men what Skiddaw is amongst mountains. A bevy of Wlics followed this Leviathan into church; but seeing me and Barton a])i)roaching, lie ^tllpped at the door, and with the dignity ami air of the royal Dane's spectre, he turned to make a very graceful bow. While I wa^^ hurplicing, Barton went to the pew and informed him of my name, &c. : in an instant he returned and told me lluit bin lordship gave no answer to this, and iw he friglitens them out of their hcnacH, he came iiuinedia'vly Irom liini. Little did I regard this ap])arent pride; but no sooner was the service ended, than forth from his pew stalked this mighty lord; complacency upon his brow, and paternal affection in his eye; took me by the l)and, and insisted that i should accompany him to Calgarth, or if I stayed at Bowness, that I would visit him as frequently as I could. En- gaged to dinner at the rector}-, and obliged to depart the next morning, I could only lament my inability to ac- cept so condescending and flattering an invitation. " Come then," said his lord- ship, in a tone of softened thunder, " we will compropiise this matter — I will lend you to Barton during dinner, ])rovided he will let me have you early in the after- noon." This was settled, and I walked four miles to Calgarth, lingering to behold glimpses of the lake on my left hand, and a torrent roaring at the base of a wooded dell, on my right. The wine was yet on the table, I was received \nth ineffable kindness, introduced to Monsieur D'Ormond, the bosom friend of Louis XVI., Sir John St. Ledger, and the two Sunderlands of Ulvcrston : so much information sweetened by such urbanity of manners, so much attention to each guest, particularly to me, I never enjoyed or witnessed at any table. Mrs. Watson shone no less in the drawing room, and they both seemed to regret that I could not spend Monday with them, as Mr. Watson the eldest son, now in the army, then became of age. Early on Monday morn, September 28th, I ascended the heights above Winder- mere, and did not imitate Mrs. Lot till I reached the mountain's brow. Well was I rewarded: — the entire lake was extended, with all its angles and pro- montories, bays and islands, at my feet. On my left appeared Lancaster Sands, bounded by the ocean; to the right, mountains of all sizes and variations — . terriijle, sublinu', wooded, and cultivated, and in the "path of beauty," variegated inclosures, hanging to the eye in every sweet and picturesque form. Now do nward as I bend my sight. What is that atom I espy? Is that a man ? And hath that little six'ck its cares. Its freaks, \t-^ follies, and its airs? And do I hear the insect say, " .1/ V lakes, mi/ mountains, mi/ domain ?" C) weak, conteinptihlc! and vain — 'I'he tenant of a fhiy I " Were you to receive a picture some- thing like this celebrated water, CUtude THE PARTERRE. niust throw his delicate sun-shiiie over the cultivated vales, the scattered cots, the groves, the lakes, and the woods ; Salnator must dash out the horror of the impending cliffs, the steeps, the hanging woods, the foaming water-falls ; while the grand pencil of Foussin should crown this unattainable chef-d'oeuvre of perfec- tion with the solitary, tyrannic majesty of the beetling mountains. •' Write y«^/^ to Liverpool, on Sunday .uorniiig, at Mrs. S — 's, 44, Duke street. Most truly yours, H. White." GREGORY HIPKINS, ESQ. SURNAMED THE UNLUCKY. Perry, of the Morning Chronicle, saw iry specimen, and forthwith I became a reporter. I did not succeed quite so well with Pitt. The impression pro- duced by one of his speeches on my mind was that of a pageant, or a pro- cession of beautiful figures, like those which embellish the friezes of an ancient temple. Every word, by a miraculous collocation, found its place — yet, as a whole, it was too uniform and finished, and with too few under parts, to sink deeply into the memory, which requires frequent contrasts to aid it. In a word, Pitt was the perfect rhetorician; whilst Fox, like an athlete, threw aside the ornaments of rhetoric as so many en- cumbrances to the muscular play of his limbs. It was this circumstance that diminished the value of ray services as a reporter. There was another. I could make no hand of the second and third-rate speakers. If I abridged them, they complained of being mutilated: if I served them up in their own miadul- terated nonsense in its primitive state, they vowed they were misrepresented. It chanced, that in the ordinary routine of duty, I had to report the speech of a member whom I could not well hear, and who was supporting a certain job with all his might and main. Finding the effort to follow him painful in the extreme, I asked a person who sat next to mc, if he had collected the sub- stance of what he had said. My in- formant, as I afterwards learned, was adverse to the job, — and, unfortunately, so imj)regnated with the arguments against it, that he began instantly to state them one after another. I took it for granted they were those of the in- audible member, whom he perhaps might have heard more distinctly than I could, from having the advantage of quicker organs; and with this impression, hasten- ed with my report to the ofhce. The next morning, the orator figured as a powerful opponent of the job he had supported through thick and thin. I was obliged, therefore, to resign my post. Such was the sinister result of a mere casual proximity to the officious gentle- man, who so kindly led me into the error. And now the demon of contiguity seemed disposed to assist me in repair- ing the ills he had done me. At a friend's, house, I was seated next to his daughter, who was likely, on the ex- pected demise of a relative, to be pos- sessed of a tolerable fortune. I met her at the same table frequently, each time contriving to sit next to her. She was what peojjle call sensible; that is, she spoke common things on common sub- jects; — nor did I like her the worse for not being crammed with reading. My assiduities pleased her, and — we were married. No mortal man could feel more sen- sitively the transition to a married state, than Gregory Hipkins the Unlucky. It was a change, physical and moral, of the entire man — a new idiosyncrasy, as it were, kneaded into his own. It brought new connexions, new habitudes — fathers-in-law — brothers-in-law — mothers-in-law. It was like a change of tribe to an Israelite. I could only see, or think, or feel, as they did — enter into their squabbles on one side or aTiother, for neutrality is an indulgence seldom permitted. As I said, my wife's property was only an expectancy; but so little likely to be defeated, that my father-in-law gave us, in the interim, a scanty stipend to live on. Expectation is a fine glittering thing, but a most sorry purveyor for immediate wants. I was in reality a pensioner upon my wife's caprices ; of which, to say the truth, she had no scanty assortment. I had my cue, however. It was to get into the good books of the uncle, whose will was in a short time to be the cornucopia to render us easy and affluent. We spent much of our time at his villa, near liOndon. He was a Lieutenant- Colonel in the India service, and a bachelor ; and having scraped together a few lacs of rupees, he had returned with a sallow complexion, and the re- duced portion of liver usually brought back to England by old Indians. It was in truth an easy commerce we had to carry on: on our part, to hear his militfuvy adventures, surj)assing every THK PARTERRE. ihiiig the world of fiction or reality had hiTt'tofore yit'ldc'd, — on his, to recount them troni morn till ni^ht. A vnUs tloriosus of this description would have een a treasure to Plautus or Ben Jon- son. He stood nine hours up to the neck in water at the tirst breach in Se- ringapatain — looked tigers full in the face while he sketched their likenesses — crossed the Ganges with bullocks and baggage, over a bridge formed by the backs of sleeping alligators — slept in cots with cobra di capellos coiled upon liis pillow, while scorpions dropt into liis mouth when he gave his tirst yawn in the morning — and, on one occasion, having accidentally met with a fall, dur- ing the procession of Juggernaut, lay St retched at full length, whilst the chariot followed by myriads of worshippers went over him. In short, it became a pen- ance beyond my powers of endurance, to live on terms of ordinary complaisance with a liar of such magnitude. As often, however, as I was about to utter an incredulous expression, the conjugal frown of .Mrs. Hipkins rebuked me to silence ; and sometimes a pinch of the arm, with a " Can't you be quiet, Gre- gory ? " was requisite to keep me quiet. And thus things went on, till the day of our departure. In the room, which, from its containing about a dozen vo- lumes, the Colonel called his librar}% I saw on his desk the portrait of a feroci- ous royal tiger, which he had sketched in India, and had exhibited to us the even- ing before. He had been giving it, I sup- pose some additional touches, for a pen- cil lay beside it. The proiitnity of the pencil j)roved my ruin ; for seeing the words, " Drawn on the spot,'" in his own hand at the bottom, an irresistible im- pulse seized mc to add the additional ones, " in the absence of the tiger." The interpolation, at once reflecting on his veracity and his courage, did not meet his eve till some days after our dc|)arture. The moment he saw it, he was at no loss to discover its author, made ancjther will instantly in favtnir of some distant relations, ami died n(jt long after he made it. At this most seasonable! junc- ture, my father-in-law, who, though overflowing with atfcction for his daugh- ter, had possibly, with •Shaks|)care, aline poetical feeling n-specting " the uses of adversity," withdrew, on some kind pa- rental pret«iiceorothcr, the little stipend he had allowed us. In this ebb of rjur fortunes, Mrs. Gregory Hipkins tound relief in amuse- ment, and ainn.<) -ment at the play. All the world was about that time mad to see the young Roscius, an urchin not above four feet high, play the heroic characters of Shakspeare. He was, how- ever, at the height of his fame ; — the universal theme of that idiot wonder, which, at certain periods, leads the play- going part of the public by the nose, and tills the theatres to overflowing. We succeeded in getting into the pit, with- out any accident worth mentioning, un- less it was the loss of a valuable shawl from my wife's shoulders, the gift of our dear dejiarted uncle, who had scaled the walls of a zenana to receive it as a gift from the fair hands of a rich Begum, who was in love with him, having tirst put to death half-a-dozen Mussulman guards, who, with naked scimitars, op- posed his entrance. We were not so fortunate in getting out. The inconvenient vonntories of a London playhouse are proverbial. On this occasion there was such a pressure, that .Mrs. Hipkins found great difficulty in keeping hold of my arm, and I had to endure grumblings of the true conjugal kind without end — " Dear me, Gregory how can you be so stupid — Lord, how you pull — Heavens, why don't you come on !" I could get on no farther. There had been seated rieit to me a person with a wooden leg, which had more than once bruised my shins during the perform- ance, and, by its accursed proximity, was still destined to torment me ; for it had fixed itself upon my foot, and kept me immovable, and in great agony, till the tide of human beings jiassed by, separat- ing my wife from me, and carrying that gentle creature onwards in its vortex. In vain I remonstrated, bellowed, swore, — he himself could not stir, for a con- tii^uous door-post, behind which the crowd had jammed him. At length he released me, and again feeling the jires- sure of a female arm ujion my own, I hobbled on, deeming myself not unfor- tunate in having so soon been rejoined by Mrs. Hipkins. At this moment a i)re.s. sure of the hand, somewhat tenderer than betokens the second post-nnitrinu)- nial year of eoni)les much more tender than Mr. ami .Mrs. Gregory Hipkins, in- duced mc to turn my face towards her. Uns])eakable horror — one moment for the magic pen of Spenser! to i)aint me the lineaments of the foulest of hags, that oglcci, as 1 bent my liead beneath a flaunting, tau'dry bonnet, with a grin that revealed teeth of every size, shape, and hue, huddled together like grave- stones that had felt the upheaving of uii '2G THE PARTERRE. earthqiiiike — and breathing — powers of heaven, rather of hell — such vapours as were never brushed from the unwhole- some fens of Sierra Leone itself. — " Dear Gregory," she croaked, "beloved, have I found you at last?" She must have caught my name from my wife, as she followed us on our return from the play, into the pit avenue. "Dear Gregory!" — Frantic even to madness, I strove to shake her off with efforts almost super- natural; but she clung to me as the veno- med shirt to Alcides, renewing her un- earthly raptures, and beseeching me not to desert her in tones, or rather howls, of so unusual a kind, as to invite a crowd of linkboys and hackney-coachmen to take an interest in the spectacle. The philoso])hy of the moment is the best in these cases. "It is a poor unhappy maniac," I said, walking quietly home- wards, and hanging down my ears, as Ho- race did, when he vainly strove to shake off the friend he met in the Via Sacra of Rome. But did my eyes deceive me? No; they did not. A few yards onwards, and not many from my own residence, I could perceive Mrs. Gregory Hipkins in close proximity to a tall Irish hussar, who had satnext her at the play. She was leaningon his arm, and listening to his discourse, or rather rhodomontade, with much earnestness. The proximity of person, too, was greater than was required in the casual escort of a gentleman to a lady who accidentally stood in need of his protection. In the meanwhile, the increasing raptures of the hideous Duessa still sticking to my arm, attracted the notice of my wife and the hussar, who turned back to have their share of the diversion. "This poor wretch," I said to Mrs. Hipkins, " is out of her mind. Common humanity will not suffer me to use violent means of getting rid of her." " Oh, Mr. Hipkins," replied my amia- ble spouse, "your part of the piece is well got up. An old attachment per- haps." I relished her irony but little, and tnat of her Hibernian gallant still less, who, eyeing the withered fragment ot the female form that hung on my arm, rant<'d in the truest of brogues, " Warm in their ashes live her wonted fires!" Had my arm been unfettered by its loath- some burden, I should have aided his gravitation to the earth by an immediate application of my fist to the untenanted skull of this most impudent of block- heads. But I was bent upon effecting my dcli\'erancc. It was a struggle that lasted three or four minutes, during which Mrs. Gregory Hipkins, with her one-eyed beau ( I forgot to mention that her Apollo was a mutilated statue) walked towards my house with all possible composure. Nor was it but by the fortunate accident of mypersecutor's stumblingon abroken part of the pavement, and thereby losing hold of my arm, that I succeeded in giving her a push that laid her at full length in the mud that had collected in tne chasm, and breaking away from her in the midst of mingled moans for the desertion of " her Gregory," and the ruin of her gros de Naples gown and Brussels veil. My wife was at the door, in the act of wishing her Damon good night ; but there was something in the mode of wish- ing it, that " denoted a foregone conclu- sion." I rushed in — Mrs. Hipkins had squatted herself on a sofa. She sighed, as vulgar women do on such occasions — alas ! Gregory Hipkins the Unlucky had made, some months before, the pleasant discovery that his wife was essentially vulgar — and genuine thorough-bred vul- garity is a compound of all that is horrid in the female creation — and began a series of upbraidings after the truest precedents of vulgar women. " Well, Mr. Hipkins — you have part- ed on good terms, I trust, Avith your old flame?" she ejaculated. "And you with yours, I hope, madam," was my reply. A sort of peace was patched up. It seems that she had met her friend Cap- tain Mahoney somewhere before, and that the acquaintance was renewed by his accidentally sitting next to her at the play. The step of captain, indeed, was a piece of promotion she herself gave him, perhaps euphonic gratia; for the fellow was only an ensign. " And you know, Gregory, I could not decline his arm, when I lost you in the crowd; besides, really, he was so civil, really." My own story told itself; and Mrs. Hipkins was, or pretended to be, satis- fied. Strange incidents bring on strange in- dispositions. Mrs. Gregory Hipkins be- came bilious. Cheltenham is the only place for bilious people. Her whole family, she pleaded, were afllicted with " the bile," and Cheltenham had cured them, one after the other. I had no counter plea but the hourly-wasting con- dition of my purse. What is that against an expedition on whicha female sets her heart ? So behold us inmates of Stiles's boarding-house at Cheltenham. THE PARTERRE. • It is written!" says tiie Turk. 1 was still to be the victim of these prori- mities. NVe were sittiiier down at the public diiiing-table, when who should advance towards my wife, and, with the easy assurance of a face thrice dipped in the brazen stream of tlie Shannon, take his seat next her, but the same Captain Mahoney I He honoured me with a slight token of recognition, and began pouring his unmeaning volubilities into her ear ; and really .Mrs. Gregory Hipkins did seriously incline to hear them. Ne.\t day — several days in succession — the same proximity of seat — the same stream of nothings absorbing all her faculties ; but by degrees a closer contiguity of liead and cheek, and the talk frequently sub- siding into murmurs. I was always inclined to think jealousy a very foolish species of self-tormenting. The woman who makes a man jealous is never worth being jealous about. But who can control liis fate? ' We were seated at the diimer-table as usual — the Cai)tain, of course, next to Mrs. Hijjkins. The jangling of a post-chaise was heard at the door ; and in a few minutes bounced into the apartment — accursed fatality ! — the infernal hag that had tormented me to deatli on the niglit of the play. Seeing the chair ««it my own unoccupied, toad- like she squatted in it, witli an agility of whidi I did not deem her cajjable, and began a series of embraces — tlie mere recollection of which brings a cold faint- ing sickness over me even at this mo- ment. I brushed them off as well as I could ; but to stop her tongue, whilst it was revelling in the maddest hyperboles of fondness, was im])ossible. " Dear Gregory — beloved Gregory ! We meet to part no more ! Cruel man', to leave me in that dirty puddle — my gros de Naples will never more be fit to wear." All eyes were upon me. A buzz went round — " A pleasing recognition," said one. " Hi- h>oks confoundedly sh('e]iish," remai'ked another. " His wife does not »eeniover-ide!uscd,"said u third. "Wife!" observed a fourth, with an air of p(jsi- tivc information ; " don't you see that the lady who is just arrived is his lirst wife, whoiscometoclaim her husband?" And in this interjirctation, which, merely implying that I was guilty of bigamy, reroinmended itself by its siin]dii-itv, •■very one acquiesi-ed. Nay, I I'ould di-tini-tly hear a young barrister at the end of the table hiying it down to be a f('lony, and quoting the DucIichh of KingHton'ft cuhe to prove that it was clergyable. My tormento7'r p. ate being laden with meat, I had a short respite whJ.st she devoured it. The farce, however, whii-h was so highly amusing to every body but myself, was soon renewed, and mo- tioning Mrs. Hipkins to follow me, 1 endeavoured to steal away. But Mrs Hipkins, amiable woman, not wishing to increase the uproar, as I supposed, stirred not, and the frantic bedlamite again clung romid me. In vain I strove to impress the company with the obvious fact, that the woman was insane. Pro- bably I might have succeeded, had not the unaccountable conduct of Mrs. llij)- kins encouraged alesa favourable theory. Some, however, were candid enougli to admit the insanity — but believed it was my misconduct that had occasioned it. The hag followed me into the High Street, whither I had betaken myself as a refuge, and renewed her loathsome endearments. At last, seeing a mob of a less refined class collecting around us, I thought the jest was becoming some- what too serious, and called in the aid of a constable or two, who, with some difficulty took her into custody. Thus the affair would have ended, had it been that of any other of the myriads that l)eople God's earth — but Gregory lli])- kiiis the Unlucky. The sage tribunal of e\t'ry liluary, the assembled wisdom of the pump-room, gave it against me. It was quite dear that 1 had married a second wfe, the first being still living, which the young barrister had convinced them amounted to bigamy — -having, moreover, cla])])ed my first wife into pri- son to get rid of her evidence. The lawyer thought that a magistrate should call on me to find bail — -others thought that I ought not to be at large upon any terms wliatever. CJonjugal disputes are settli'd or re- vived at night. I bitterly reproached Mrs. (Gregory Hipkins. She was dread- fully alFected by my rei)roaclies — and Went to sleep. The next morning slit- rose early, to take the wati-rs at the j)ump-room. Worn out by the petty per- secutions of the |)recediiig day, I claim- ed the |>rivilege of a ])rotracted slumt)er. I could r(-niark, huwev(-r, that slu- was a coMsidcrabli- timeat hertoib-t, and heard, thtjugh indistinctly, a confused noise oi rustling, and a stirring (jf band-biix(-s Ix-tokening a packing-up. Nor was I deceived. On going down into ilie break fast-room, I learned that Mrs. (In-- gory Hipkins and Captain Mahoney had departi-d lour hiiurs before, si-att-d »ii'i(to each olliir in a posl-chai--e. -liluckuiHid. 28 THE PARTERRE. THE BEAR HUNT. " A bear," commenced our Alcibiades, " as colossal in size as unequalled in strength, had become the terror of the inhabitants of the whole country between Bucharest and Cempino, near the Car- patho- Romano- Moldavian mountains. The haunts of the monster were chiefly confined to the interminable forest of Poeinar, which is traversed by the road from Bucharest to Kronstadt, at Tran- sylvania. This dreadful animal had been known to the inhabitants for about eight or ten years, during which time he had destroyed more than four hundred head of oxen, and other domestic animals. It appeared as if the inhabitants were panic- siruck, for no one dared to attack him ; his last exploit, and which at length awakened the attention of the chief divan of the district, was as follows : — " A large quantity of wine, destined for Bucharest, was being slowly trans- ported across the hills, and, according to the usual custom, the drivers halted for repose and refreshment during the heat of the day. The animals were released from their teams and left to graze along the side of the road close to the forest, when suddenly a dreadful roaring was heard; the drivers ran to the spot, and beheld in the midst of the buffaloes a black animal of most formidable dimen- sions, who had already seized one and thrown it on its back, where he held it, in spite of the fearful struggles of the agonized victim, with one of his claws, like the grasp of an iron vice, and escaped upon his other three legs with his ill- fated prey. "This apparently half- fabulous intel- ligence attracted not only the attention of the government, but that of the lovers of the chase in Bucharest and the adja- cent country; namely, the bojars Kos- taki, Kornesko, Manoulaki-Floresko, the bey Zadey- Soutzo, and myself. A grand hunt was speedily projected, and the whole admirably organized by one of the party, Signor Floresko, of the foreign department. " It was planned that the bear, when first traced, was to be driven forward by five or six hundred peasants into a semi- circle composed of about a hundred huntsmen. "The appointed day arrived, and these arrangements having been made in the most silent manner possible, the gignal was given to commence the chase by a long blast of the hunting-horn, which was quickly followed by the sounds of other most noisy instruments and the loud shouts of the peasants; it was not long before a shot resounded to my right, near the spot were Signor Kornesko stood, which was succeeded by a dead silence; after the lapse of a few minutes, I heard the rush of some animal through the thickets, the noise of whose steps among the dry leaves was doubled by the stillness of a clear Oc- tober day. My visitor was a well-fed fox ; he presented himself about eighty paces distant; I shot him through the head, and again the former stillness suc- ceeded: but the drivers drawing nearer, the tremendous uproar re-commenced. It was perfectly frightful to hear our Moldavian peasants (scattered over two leagues of ground) utter their piercing cries and still more frightful wailings, while they beat the trees with sticks, clappers, and other discordant noisy in- struments. I now heard at about the distance of half a league two shots, which were immediately followed by the most deafening yells, — and the word Ours! Ours I (which in the Romano- Molda- vian language is sounded as in French) fell distinctly on my ear. "The prince, or bey, Zadey- Soutzo, came up to me, saying, ' Seigneur Alci- biades, the bear has broken through the cordon formed by the drivers. What have you killed? ' " ' A fine fox, as you see here before you.' The Mameluke who attended him carried the animal away.' " At this moment Signor Kornesko joined us, and we all went together to the spot where the bear had disappeared ; there we found Floresko, who was en- deavouring to ascertain the track. On demanding who had shot at the bear? we were told it was Lazar, the hunter, but that he had merely grazed his back ; the other shot was from the musket of a peasant, past whom the bear ran with astonishing rapidity, breaking down the young trees which interrupted his pro- gress. The poor fellow, excessively frightened, fell upon bis back, which caused his rifle to explode without his as- sistance ; his deplorable plight was the subject of much merriment to us, and we re-called his scattered senses by a pretty strong dose of brandy. "We now followed the track of the bear, and about a hundred paces further discovered spots of sweat on the leaves and bark of the trees; they were about the height of a middle-sized man. I de- manded of Lazar, who had shot at him, whether he ran on his hind legs or ail TIIK PARTERRK. •29 fours? ' On all fours, like ii dog,' was the answer. " I now beg:an to attach some rredit to the marvellous aeeouuts I had heard of the enormous size and strength of the monster; and my euriosity to see him, together with my desire for his destruc- tion, were most strongly excited. " For a considerable time I wandered about with the rest of the company, who had sent for a pack of hounds that had been left at the nearest vilhige ; until, weary of this ineffectual search, I took a wild, unfre(|uented ])ath, and turned to the left in the thickest part of the forest, where I ho])ed to be able to find a pas- sage to lead to the provision-carriage, which I knew was in this direction, for I had become excessively hungry. " After walking a short distance, I entered a valley which might with truth be termed virgin; tremendous oaks had here died through age, and wild herbs and young plants had grown up in the cheering light of the sun out of their decayed tninks, while eternal twilight reigned beneath the wide-spreading branches of those which still bloomed in all the >'igour and freshness of youth. Invited by their cooling shades, I sought repose for a few minutes ; 1 had not long enjoyed it, when I was suddenly startled by a noise resembling that of a whole squadron of cavalry bearing down in full gallop upon me ; when, behold, I saw the terrific coal-black monster, flying with the rapidity of lightning, at about two hundred paces distant; there was no possibility of getting a shot at him, but his size, strength, and j)rodigious swift- ness, far exceeded any I had ever seen among the white Arctic bears, or the black .Siberian. I j)ursued him in a we>terly direction, guided by the loud barking of the dogs, who were upon his scent. I soon joined a bojar, the chief officer of Signor Fh^resko; the unfor- tunate man seemed much animated by the chase, for he said, ' I have a strong presentiment that I shall reach the bear, and I have ordered some of the best shots in the band of huntsnwn to follow me.' " We now entered a deep part of the forest, thickly overs])read withwih! fruit trees ; here, among old trunks of trees, and rocky caverns, was, I presumed, the bear's favourite retreat: indeed, we soon dittcovered traces of him, and the earth was covered in sevi-ral places with his excremerit.H. In this strange and savage »pot I dctcrniineil to take up my posi- tion, and await the chance of riiicling the enemy. Signor Kostaki continued the pursuit. Tired, and suffering from ex- cessive heat, 1 lay down, together with my faithful dog, beneath the extensive foliage of an immense wild ai)ple-tree, lighted up my tchoubouk, and com- manded Amico, a most powerful wolf- dog, thoroughly trained against man or beast, to keep a strict watch. 1 might have dreamed for about lialf an hour, enveloped in the elysium of clouds of smoke, when I was suddenly aroused by the violent rushing of approaching ani- niiils. I cautiously arose smd stejiped behind the trunk of a large tree, when I observed about a dozen wild swine, pre- ceded by an immense boar, who acted as leader ; these were quickly followed by others, until I distinctly reckoned twen- ty-three. Holding my dog back, 1 crept like a serpent under the protection of a fallen oak, till I came within eighty paces of them; myobject was to bring down the great boar, as 1 knew from long and dan- gerous experience in the Mongolei, that on such occasions, unless the chief falls, the continuance of the life of the hunter is doubtful; but, as if influenced by a presentiment of what was likely to hap- pen, he continued moving onward, and as I feared that the whole band would soon be out of the reach of a bullet, I determined, cost what it would, to secure one of them ; and as a full-grown one, armed with huge tusks, haj)pened topre- sent himself in the right position, I took a deadly aim and fired, when, after running a few paces, he fell; the others disappeared in an instant, and the former stillness again reigned in the forest. " It appeared the hunters were scat- tered in different directions, each expect- ing that the dogs would drive the bear in his own immediate vicinity; for myself, feeling secure that I had ascertained his retreat, I waited in anxious expectation of surprising him. " My shot in the meantime must have been heard, and I soimded several times on my horn, in order to collect a few of tiie peasants to carrj' off the boar I had killed. I was speedily joined by about thirty. Though mortally wounded, he gnashed frightfully with his teeth, until one of the huntsmen dispatched him with a short hunting-sword : it was a noble animal, both in size and fatness, and I received thecongratulationsof the whole party. During this time, I ob- Berveda peasant from tiie neighliourliood of I'oeinar attentively <)bser\ ing my booty. ' What dost thou seem to wonder at in the boar, friend?' said I. du THE PARTERRE. " ' It IS very singular, signer,' answer- ed the peasant, ' but I could have sworn that this fellow is no stranger to me. About five or six years ago, one of my finest pigs formed a connexion with a flock of wild swine, and shortly after entirely disappeared in the woods ; but, however, we can see if he has my mark — a slit in the left ear.' ' Donner und Wetter,' cried the peasant, in raptui'es, ' he is mine!' and without a doubt the mark was visible to us all. It may easily be supposed that my trophy, a noble boar of the free- forests, transform- ed into a household pig, the property of a Moldavian peasant, became the subject of the united laughter of my compa- nions. " I know not when the jokes of the hunters would have ceased, if they had not been interrupted by the distant tumultuous noise of the dogs, who seem- ed approaching, and we concluded, by the sound, they might be still about a league from us. The whole party left me, except Lazar, the same hunter who had first shot the bear. As the cry of the hounds died away, I seated myseJf by my inglorious game, and again com- menced smoking my tchoubouk ; but I was almost immediately aroused by the near approach of the dogs in full cry, succeeded by a frightful roar, which seemed to overwhelm every other sound. With my gun on the cock, I flew for- ward ; a momentary silence ensued, which was almost instantly succeeded by a violent crash like a thunder-storm, for I observed the undervi'ood before me bowing and crackling, and on the very same foot-path which I had taken, the long sought for hideous monster stood before me, completely filling the space between the trees vdth his enormous mass. I was no sooner observed by the ferocious brute than he flew at me with a powerful spring, sending forth a howl so loud and piercing that it nearly stun- ned me, and literally shook the air. Con- scious, however, that there was now no other alternative but death or victory, I allowed my opponent to approach within six paces, took a deadly aim, and fired with the same lucky barrel that had already laid prostrate the fox and the boar. The ball struck the terrific animal exactly between the eyes ; he seemed paralysed for a moment, in which happy pause my faithful Amico gallantly sprung forward. Bewildered perhaps by the unexpectedappearance of the large white dog and its furious bellowing, he afford- ed me sufficient time to lodge a second bullet precisely in the same spot, whilst Lazar, who had taken up a safe position behind a large oak, sent him a third, which however did hum but little injury, as the buMet was afterwards found buried in his fat. " I distinctly saw, by the two streams of blood which issued from his forehead, his hopeless situati-on ; this was also evinced by his breathing. I drew my hunting-knife and sought, aided by my dog, to stun him with the loudest shout- ing ; upon which, perceiving us advance, he roared tremendously, and seemed disposed to escape into the thicket ; his tottering walk proved that his strength was fast declining, and when aboiit thirty paces distant, he fell. " As J could not follow him with per- fect safety, I re-loaded my gun, and tried to irritate him, in order that he might turn round and give me an opportunity of sending him another bullet in the most vital part. He lay perfectly still, occasionally wiping the streaming blood from his face with his fore-paws, like a human being : assisted by my dog, we attacked him with great fury, and per- ceiving no chance of safety, he com- menced breaking the branches of the trees which surrounded him, and hurled them at us with immense force; then raised himself up, and apparently, with all his pristine strength, attacked me with the force of desperation ; but his last moment was approaching. I allow- ed him to advance, and when almost touching the barrel of my gun, he re- ceived the entii'e charge — my last deadly shot. The death-struggle was momen- tary, for he sunk forward, sprinkling my face with his blood, and almost burying me under his enormous mass. The last groan he uttered exceeded in horror all that I had ever heard — a tone so full and deep, so despairing and piercing, that the whole forest resounded, and the echoes of the rocks seemed to repeat it with a shudder ! " I was now surrounded by Signor Flo- resko and hundreds of men, each looking at the huge beast almost with affright. I was overwhelmed with congratulations by all present, at having slain the mon- ster which had been so long the terror of the whole country. " I must confess that I had never before encountered a danger so immi- nent, so formidable in its aspect ; neither did I ever obtain a victory that gave me gi'eater pleasure. " We were obliged to have the young wood cleared away before we could drag THE PARTERRR. Ill tlie fallen monster out of the thicket into the nearest road, wliere he lay for some time. " In the meantime, Floresko informed me that he feared his chief oflScer, Ko- staki, would be the victim of this day, for he had been found in a horrible situation. Shortly after, the unfortu- nate young man was conveyed to us on a bier in a most deplorable condition ; his clothes and limbs rent and mangled, his entrails torn out, his spine broken; in short, it was impossible to save him. After lingering a few hours in dreadful agony, he died. " Thus the death of the ferocious ani- mal was avenged, and our victory dearly purchased ! " The bear was placed on a wagon, drawn by four horses, to be conveyed to Bucharest, but this plan we were obliged to abandon, as the body emitted such a noisome stench that the whole atmo- sphere was poisoned ; it was therefore flayed on the spot. The fat was found to weigh 800 pounds, and the flesh and bones 963 pounds. From between the ears to the extremity of the back, he measured nineteen feet; and, according to a calculation based on Gall's system, must liave been between 170 and 180 years of age. He was entirely black, and his teeth much worn, and was no doubt a Siberian bear, which at difl^erent times had been hunted to this wood, where he had found a secure asylum ; in his left leg and back were two broken arrows- I presented the skin to my friend, Namick Pasha, a general in the service of the Ottoman empire. His skull I have retained for myself, and also part of his fat, which I have preserved in my ice-house at Bucharest. " The female, with two young ones, which have already arrived at the size of large oxen, have been seen about F'ocinar and tlie neighbouring forests ; she is said to be very little inferior to her consort, either in magnitude or ferocity. You may therefore, gentlemen," con- cluded Seigneur Alcibiadcs, laughing, "obtain laurels similar to those with which I am crowned^ and, by perform- ing Huch an exploit, you would eclipse old Hercules and his boar, because th.'it animal can scarcely see two feet beyond his head, is very awkward at turning, and never climbs a tree; whereas no mortiil foot can escape the pursuit of an enraged bear." — From I'utti Frutti, by a (iermati Prince (Puckler .Muskau), author of the most delightful " 7'our in Knoliinil, ,J[f." that we have ever ])erui«ed. STANZAS. {For the i'urterre.') \Micn fell Disease, with serpent fold. Involves this frame of mortal mould. And, spent and woni, our struggles cease. Death gives us, from the coil, release. But no such happy lot is mine, M hen I the menUii strife resign. The thought that tells me strife is vain, Gives immortality to Pain 1 H. GlILFOIlD. MISCELLANIES. FISHING NOT A CKUEL SPORT. " Fishes (you know a whale is not a fish) have no natural aflTection. How can you expect it in spawn? Fry, half an inch long, issue from the gravel without paren- tal eyes to look after tbem, so they arc fortunately incapable of filial ingratitude. You do not reduce a whole family to starvation by clappingan odd old fish into your creel. Nor can you break the heart of an odd old fish by wheedling before his eyes all the younkers out of a pool who owe their existence to him, and to the old lady you captivated and seduced in early spring, by the lure of a march- brown, the most killing of Quakers." — Blackwood's Magazine. OTTO OF ROSES. In a work published some time since, by Monsieur de Maries, entitled " His- toire Generale des Indes Ancienne et Moderne," etc., we find the following account of the discovery of this very fragrant extract. " It is said to have been in Lahore that chance led to the discovery of the essence of rose. The Begum or favourite Sultana of the Em- [leror Shah- lehaun, seeking to strengthen lis passion by attaching liim to herself by delightful sensations, conceived the idea of bathing in a pool of rose-water, and had the reservoir of her garden iilU-d with it. The rays of the sun acting upon this water, the essence whicli it contained concentrated itself in lit tie i)ar- tides of oil which floated on the surface of the basin. At first it was thought that this matter was produced by fer- mentation, and that it was a sign of corru])tion or fetidity ; but as they tried to gather it in order to dean the basin, they perceived that it exiialed a delicious smell. 'Ihis it was tiiat gave tlie idea of extracting in future the essence " MS. My uncle was a warm-hearted and hos- pitable man, with a liMiniiiR towards superstition. A >;Jiost story was his dcli^fht, and he would listen to a iiiUTa- tive of ^;ol)lins and fairies with iiiteii>e interest. .Many a eiinniij); fellow took advantii^e of this, and often invented tales of people " coming again " (the re-appearanee of jtersons after death is thus termed in Berkshire) for his edifi- cation. One fine evening in the spring of the- year 17 — , my revered relative, and four friends, were sitting within the little how-window of hin house at (' — , chiitting on various suhjects, when my uncle entered upfm his favourite tlienie, and treated his guests with two or three narrativcH of undoubted authenticity. First, how Jem, the gardener, had seen a blue light dancing in the chancel window of the old church on the very night that farmer R^ 's eldest son got so drunk at market, hat, on his road home, he fell from his liorsc and broke his neck, to the great grief of his father, but to the inexpressible joy of the whole village. Secondly, how the de\il, in the time of his grandfather { ! ), was wont to dance every night round a huge thistle in the paddock ; and, lastly, how the sheplierd's son Dick had been aluios* terrified to death by the appearance of a strange animal, which, after changing itself successively into a calf, a hog, and a goat, finished the hellish |)antoiiiim^e by vanishing in a flame of fire ! During these recitals there were plenty of ohs ! aiifl ahs ! you may be sin'c ; but one of the company, whose organ «)f credulity was not so fully develo|)ed, took the liberty of ex|)ressing his total imla-lief in such " stuff," as he termed it, and rashly ventured to assert that these tales were invented by old woii'en, who re- leated them so often that they at length adieved them to be true, and persuaded others to do the same. The uidieliever wan H young man, named (ieoige N — , who had arrived the preceding day from Oxford, where he liad been pursuniK bin studies. lb- was of a ronnmtic turn, n 34 THE PARTKRRR. and wrote poetry for the magazines ; but, tliougb lie could have relished a bit of true German diablerie, tiiese village tales only excited his laughter. My uncle took several rapid whiffs at his pipe, and then attacked the scoffer in right earnest. He shewed that to be- lieve in ghosts was a part of the Christian creed ; that from time immemorial these supernatural visitants were permitted to warn the good and terrify the wicked, and that, in fact, to be sceptical on such a subject argued a leaning towards Soci- nianism, and other heresies. The stu- dent saw that it was of no use to attempt to controvert the opinion which his host had maintained in such orthodox style, and, before long, was himself an atten- tive listener to the numerous ghost stories related by the company. " Ay, ay," said mine uncle, as one of the guests cpncluded a narrative re- plete with hobgobliury, — " that's nothing to what we have in this village, on the anniversary of this very night. You must know, gentlemen, that in the time of the civil wars there was a sharp skirmish one night between a party of Royalists and the Parliamentarians, in which the former were great sufferers. It was a severe conflict, though of short duration, and many noble fellows were slain on both sides. The next day a large pit was dug in the church-yard, and about forty Englishmen were tum- bled into this rude grave in the land of their fathers without the burial service, for the clergyman had fled from the vil- lage. The Royalists, wearing their shirts over their clothes, advanced upon the village in the hope of surprising their enemies, but their approach was disco- vered •, yet so fiercely was the charge made, that the Roundheads were driven out, but not until the attacking party had nearly half their number killed or disabled. Well, gentlemen, this skir- mish on every anniversary of that fatal night, is performed by phantoms, who go through the scene of strife with the same energy as the originals. I have beard say, that it is an awful sight, and dangerous to the beholder, to whom it is also a bad omen." Here the student smiled incredulously. My uncle did not fail to observe it. " Well, well," he continued, " smile and doubt : I question, though, whether you would have nerve enough to witness this shadowy spectacle, notwithstanding your incredulity." The student made no reply, because he thought that if he expressed his willing- ness to make the trial, some of tlie com- pany might be upon the watch to play him a trick ; but he inwardly determin- ed to be near the spot at the particular hour ; not that he anticipated any such a sight as a combat of spectres, but merely that he might have a good laugh against his host at breakfast the next morning. The church clock had struck eleven before the party broke up, and George N — was conducted to his cham- ber. " Good night, George," said his host, smiling; "you will find your bed and a sound sleep, better than sitting on a stile watching the manoeuvres of spectre visitants. Good night." George smiled, and closing his cham- ber door, threw himself on the bed witli- out taking off his clothes, for he found that the ale he had drunk had made his head somewhat lighter than his heels. He discovered also, as is the case with some persons, that it had not improved his spirits, and he began, as he afterwards confessed, to feel very old womanish. He lay for a considerable time ruminat- ing on the strange stories he had heard, and had already planned " An Essay on Superstition," to be comprised in a small octavo volume, when the candle which had burnt down into the socket, flashed brightly for a moment and then suddenly went out, leaving the chamber but dimly lighted by the full moon. Our student, in spite of himself, waxed each moment more nervous : he arose, and throwing up the window, looked into the garden below. It was a lovely night ! the dew drops sparkled in the mild rays of the moon, and all nature seemed to slumber. George N — felt his nervousness departing as he looked on the tranquil scene, and he determined to have a stroll in the moonlight. To enjoy this without disturbing the family, he cautiously jumped from the window, which was but a little distance from the ground, into the garden, and alighted on one of the flower-beds. Passing through the garden gate he entered the littU paddock, in which was a colt and a pet lamb, who, startled at liis appearance at that hour of the night, scampered to the farther side, and left the student to gaze undisturbed upon the scene before him. At the foot of the small hill on which the village stood, ran a trout-stream, which, gleaming briglitly in the moon- light, contrasted strongly with the long grass of the meadows through which it ran. On its summit were five venerable elms, of the same age perhaps as the rem- THE PARTERRE. 35 naot of an aiicifiit cross wLich tbey shadowed. It had sutVered in the civil wars of Cliarles and his parliament, and its steps had been since defaced by the rustics, wlio were at one time in the habit of sharpeniufj their knives upon them, a practice whicli was ut length forbidden by my uncle, under pain of his displea- sure. Behind die elms, wrapped in deep shadow, stood the small church with its s(iuareivy-covered tower, and Norman arched door witli its zig-zag ornaments, hi front was the road, which turned abruptlv where the cross stood, and de- scended witl) a gentle slope to the stream just mentioned. George strode along the paddock, and leaning against a stile which fronted the church, fell into a reverie. Imagi- nation conjured up the times when the travel-worn pilgrim knelt before that now ruined cross ; when the sculptured