CRITICAL NOTICES
[PAUL ULRIC], or the Adventures of an Enthusiast: by Morris Mattson, Esq.
[MARTIN'S GAZETTEER]: by Joseph Martin
[ROSE-HILL]: by a Virginian
[CHIEF JUSTICE MARSHALL]
An Eulogy on the Life and Character of John Marshall: by Horace Binney
A Discourse on the Life, &c. of John Marshall, L.L.D.: by Joseph Story, L.L.D.
An Oration on the Life and Character of John Marshall: by Edgar Snowden
[THE CONFESSIONS OF EMILIA HARRINGTON]: by Lambert A. Wilmer
[THE AMERICAN IN ENGLAND] by Lieutenant Slidell
[CONTI THE DISCARDED]: with Other Tales and Fancies: by Henry F. Chorley
[NOBLE DEEDS OF WOMAN]
[RIENZI, THE LAST OF THE TRIBUNES]: by Edward Lytton Bulwer
[ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY], considered with reference to Natural Theology: by Peter Mark Roget, M.D.
[CAREY'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY]

[AUTOGRAPHY]

SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.

VOL. II. RICHMOND, FEBRUARY, 1836. NO. III.

T. W. WHITE, PROPRIETOR. FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.

SELECTION IN READING.

Go to the Library of one of our Colleges; survey its five, or ten thousand volumes. You are astonished, that human thought or human industry could have produced such an accumulation of quarto upon folio, of duodecimo upon octavo—of Science, Literature—of History, Fiction—of Prose, and Poetry. But look into other collections northward of us, and in each, of several, you find more than forty thousand volumes! When you have wondered sufficiently at these, turn your 'mind's eye' to Europe; and behold, libraries containing each one hundred, or even one hundred and fifty thousand books! Look around you, then, and see how many hundreds every week is adding to the mass of tomes already in existence. Glance at the book-sellers' catalogues—at their notices in the gazette—at the monthly and quarterly "Lists of New Publications," in Magazines and Reviews—at the countless host of Reviews and Magazines themselves, and of newspapers, tracts, pamphlets, speeches, addresses—effusions of ten thousand various forms and merits—craving your attention and bewildering your choice! Go forth into society: in one circle, politics—in another, canalling, or railroad lore—in a third, some point touching the Campaigns of Bonaparte, the Wars of the League, the American Revolution, or the Conquests of Tamerlane—in a fourth, the beauties of Greek and Roman literature—in a fifth, some topic in Chemistry or Geology—in a sixth, Byron, Campbell, Moore and Wordsworth—in a seventh, the fifty last novels—are discussed by their respective coteries, each, as if that subject alone threw all others into the shade. And if you are not so torpid as to be incapable of excitement by sympathy with others, and by themes inherently interesting, or so self-possessed as to curb and regulate discreetly, the curiosity and proneness to imitation which will on such occasions be kindled in any but a blockhead—you cannot, for your life, help wishing to be familiar with each theme. You go home; and plunge headlong into a dozen different studies. Your acquisitions are huddled chaotically into your knowledge-box, so that you have a full, distinct idea, of no one subject: you can never get hold of what you want, at the moment when you need it; but must rummage over an immense pile of trumpery, with a bare hope, after all, of finding the useful article you want. You are a shallow smatterer.

If you would be otherwise, DARE to be ignorant of all books, and all things, which you are not sure will repay your trouble in reading them, or which are not parts of a pre-arranged course, laid down for you by yourself, or by some judicious friend. DARE to disavow an acquaintance with a fashionable novel, or even with a fashionable science, if it fall not within your plan. Always reflect, when the claims of a new book are pressed upon your notice,—that, if you have forty years to employ in reading, and can read fifty pages a day, you will be able, in those forty years, to accomplish only about SIXTEEN HUNDRED VOLUMES, of 500 pages each. Yes—out of the millions of tomes that litter the world, you can read, in twice the time that most, even of the studious, employ in reading—only sixteen hundred volumes! Surely, the motto of every one who reads for improvement, ought to be "SELECT WELL!"

"It is a great, nay the greatest part of wisdom," says an old philosopher, "to rest content with not knowing some things."¹

¹ ——"magna, immo, maxima, pars sapientiæ est, quædam æquo animo nescire velle."

Dugald Stewart justly observes, that by confining our ambition to pursue the truth with modesty and candor, and learning to value our acquisitions only so far as they contribute to make us wiser and happier, we may perhaps be obliged to sacrifice the temporary admiration of the common dispensers of literary fame; but, we may rest assured, it is thus only we can hope to make real progress in knowledge, or to enrich the world with useful inventions.

"'It requires courage indeed' (as Helvetius has remarked,) 'to remain ignorant of those useless subjects which are generally valued:' but it is a courage necessary to men who either love the truth, or aspire to establish a permanent reputation."²

² Philosophy of the Human Mind, Vol. I.

SKETCHES OF THE HISTORY

AND PRESENT CONDITION OF TRIPOLI, WITH SOME ACCOUNTS OF THE OTHER BARBARY STATES.

NO. X.—(Continued.)

To return to Algiers. The Dey having as he conceived, effectually closed every avenue to reconciliation with France, actively prepared to resist the attack which he had every reason to believe would soon be made on him. The fortifications of his capital had been much enlarged and strengthened since the bombardment by Lord Exmouth in 1816; the arsenal was well provided with naval stores and munitions of every description; the treasury was filled with specie, men were not wanting, and provisions could be procured in abundance from the interior. In this condition, he had no reason to dread an attack from a naval force, nor the consequences of a blockade however rigorously maintained. Against internal commotions he also felt himself secure. From the commencement of his reign, he had steadily though cautiously pursued the plan in which so many of his predecessors had failed, of preventing the enrolment of foreigners, and supplying their places by native troops; in this he had so far succeeded, that the number of the former in 1827 was less than seven thousand, while he had more than sixteen thousand Moorish soldiers, regularly disciplined and attached to his system, by the strongest ties of interest. When the whole military force of the country, consisted of a few foreigners, any one of whom might be raised to the highest offices of the State at the will of the remainder, it is not surprising that dissatisfaction and turbulence should have constantly prevailed; for under such circumstances the election of a new chief only caused a change in the ranks of the malcontents, without diminishing their numbers or their violence. That the alteration made by Hussein would contribute vastly to ensure the stability of his power, it is unnecessary to demonstrate; it had been often attempted by his predecessors and it is only extraordinary that it had not been effected long before.

Having secured this important object, Hussein no longer took pains to conceal his views with regard to rendering the Sovereignty hereditary in his family; he had no son, but his eldest daughter was married to Ibrahim, whom he raised to the office of Aga or Commander of the troops and Minister of War, and who appears to have been his intended successor; that officer having no children, his nephew was married to the Dey's youngest daughter, who was for that purpose divorced from her husband. It was also probably in furtherance of the same ends, that Hussein maintained a degree of state unusual in Algiers, manifesting in his intercourse with the ministers and officers, that he was a Prince, and not the mere chief of the Janizaries. In order to insure his personal safety he seldom appeared in public, but remained within the walls of the Casauba, surrounded by a chosen guard of Moors, sufficiently strong to defend that fortress against any attack which could be expected.

The French appeared by no means disposed to drive Hussein to extremities; their squadron generally consisted of two frigates, and four or five smaller vessels, which hovered before the entrance to the bay, but offered little or no impediment to the passage of vessels either outwards or inwards. Within a few days after the declaration of war, several Algerine cruisers quitted the harbor, and committed great ravages upon the unprotected commerce of France, sending their prizes into various ports of Barbary, and even of Spain. The prisoners were generally spared and brought to Algiers, in consequence of the Dey's humane or politic proclamation, that he would give for each living Frenchman twice as much as for his head alone. The inactivity and want of skill thus displayed by the blockading squadron, at length encouraged Hussein to bolder attempts. By great exertions, he had been enabled at the end of September 1827, to have ready a frigate, two corvettes, two brigs and six schooners in addition to the vessels at sea; this force however not being sufficient either in size or in weight of metal, to authorize a regular engagement with the heavy ships of the French, his plan was to surprise some one of them at a distance from the others, and endeavor to carry her by boarding. With this intention, which was kept secret until the moment for carrying it into execution, a number of soldiers accustomed to the sea having on the morning of the 4th of October, been suddenly embarked in the vessels, they set sail immediately and bore down upon the nearest French ship. The movement was immediately perceived by the rest of the squadron, and a general action, or at least a general discharge of guns on both sides ensued; this having continued for some hours, without any notable damage to either party, the Algerine Commander found that it was impossible to board any of the French vessels as they had the weather gauge of him, and in consequence he returned with his whole force into port. This action is duly noticed in the French papers; the commander of the squadron in his despatch, compliments his officers highly for the success of their efforts in preventing the Algerine flotilla from getting out of the harbor, and assures the Minister of Marine, that nothing but the heaviness of the sea prevented his destroying the greater part of them.

In the following spring, (1828) an offer was made by Admiral Collet to renew the negotiations for peace; and after some difficulties, Captain Bézart who commanded one of the French brigs, was allowed to enter Algiers and communicate with the Sardinian Consul on the subject. He subsequently had a conference with the Algerine Minister of Foreign Affairs, the results of which induced the Admiral to despatch him to Paris, in order to receive the instructions of their Government.

The French government probably received with satisfaction, the account that the Algerines were disposed to treat for peace. The Martignac Ministry which had just come into power, were employing every means to secure the tottering throne of Charles the Tenth against the efforts of the Liberal party, and they were anxious for the adjustment of a dispute, which occasioned an enormous addition to the budget of expenses without any return whatever. Dignity, or rather the fear of wounding the vanity of the nation, however forbade their seeming to make any advances after the Dey's insulting rejection of the demands first proposed to him. Great care was therefore taken to avoid any appearance of direct communication with the Algerine government; but the Admiral was instructed unofficially to hint, that if the Dey would send an ambassador to Paris, the differences between the two countries might be accommodated.

With these instructions Bézart returned to the African coast. During his absence Admiral Collet worn down with disease had retired to Toulon where he shortly after died; Admiral Botherel de la Bretonniere who succeeded to the command, on learning the views of the Ministers, instantly wrote a letter to the Dey in the sense enjoined by them, and despatched the Captain with it to Algiers. He arrived there on the 11th of September 1828, but when it was known that he only bore a communication from the Admiral, he was not suffered to proceed farther than the landing place on the mole, where he was required to await the answer. A Barbary Prince of a more pliable character than Hussein, might probably have gratified the French Ministers by sending an Ambassador to Paris, who would have figured in the pages of the Moniteur as a supplicant for peace; but the Dey was made of stubborn stuff. He had expected a direct communication from the French government, and was indignant at being addressed instead, by one of its officers not even an authorized agent; moreover the letter contained a proposition that he should take a humiliating step, without any assurance that it would be attended with favorable results. Seeing at once through the whole manœuvre of the French government, his reply was a peremptory order to Bézart instantly to quit Algiers.

A few days after, the same proposition was conveyed more distinctly to the Dey through the Sardinian Consul, with an assurance on the part of the Admiral, that his Government no longer expected apology or reparation, but wished merely to place affairs between the two nations on their former footing. Hussein however remained firm in his refusal to make any advances, only telling the Consul, that after Peace had been signed at Algiers, he might perhaps to please the Ministers, send them an Ambassador. The French Government finding its recommendations thus treated, authorized the Sardinian Consul to inform the Dey, that no farther overtures would be made by it towards reconciliation, and that measures would be soon taken to obtain complete satisfaction for the injury committed against France. Hussein coolly answered, that he had men and ammunition in abundance, and that he preferred the fortune of war to making or seeming to make any apology.

The destruction of three Algerine feluccas of six guns each, was the next event worthy of note in the history of the war. These vessels were returning from a successful cruise and endeavoring to enter the harbor of Algiers on the 1st of October 1828, when they were discovered and chased into the adjacent Bay of Sidi Ferruch. The prize was soon recaptured; the other vessels took refuge close to the shore, under a small and ruinous battery mounting twelve guns, where they were attacked by the whole of the blockading squadron. After the first fire, the feluccas and the battery were abandoned; boats were then sent by the Admiral to destroy the vessels, which having been effected the fire was continued on the battery until it was nearly demolished. The loss on the side of the Algerines is believed to have been very small; the French had six men killed and seventeen wounded, by the bursting of a gun on board the Admiral's ship the Provence. This trifling affair was made the subject of a special report by the Minister of the Marine to the King of France, which may be found at length in the Moniteur of the 17th of October; it was so far important, as it enabled His Majesty to say in his Address to the Legislative Chambers in January following, that—"most striking examples had already taught the Algerines, that it was neither easy nor safe to brave the vigilance of his ships."

Another attempt on the part of the French to teach the Algerines prudence, was not attended with equal success; for on the 19th of June 1829, twenty-four of their men, who had landed in pursuit of the crew of a stranded Algerine vessel, were surrounded by Arabs and put to death. The heads of these unfortunate men were carried to Algiers, where the Dey paid for them according to the tariff established; they were however on the application of the Sardinian Consul immediately delivered to him for burial.

The Government of France was by this time convinced of the futility of the measures which had been for two years pursued with regard to Algiers. The blockade had produced none of the results which were anticipated; it had been maintained at an annual expense of more than seven millions of francs, and although the number of persons killed in action was small, yet many had fallen victims to the diseases occasioned by the climate; in return the Dey appeared less inclined than ever to agree to satisfactory terms of peace, and the commerce of France in the Mediterranean had been severely injured by his cruisers. The opposition had also taken advantage of the circumstances, and the Ministry were frequently denounced in the Legislature and in the public journals of Paris, for their vacillating and dishonoring conduct in the affair.

Unable to resist these demonstrations of their own inefficiency, the French Ministry prepared for more decisive operations, by assembling troops in the Southern Departments of the Kingdom and collecting vessels for their transportation. Before employing these extreme measures however, they were induced to make one more attempt at negotiation; the circumstances which led them thus to recede from the determination expressed in the previous year, are reported to have been the following.

The Dey had several times expressed to the Sardinian Consul, his admiration of the form and sailings of a brig called the Alerte belonging to the blockading squadron; something in his manner at length induced the Consul to inform M. de la Bretonniere, that possibly His Highness might be inclined to negotiate for peace, in the manner desired by the French Government, if it were understood that the brig would be presented to him after the signature of the treaty. The Admiral eagerly accepted this overture as he considered it, and authorized the Consul to say in general terms, that he had no doubt the Government of France would willingly accede to the Dey's wishes in this particular, if an arrangement of the difficulties between the two countries could be effected. Hussein's reply was encouraging, and the Admiral in consequence sailed for France to receive in person the instructions of his Government. He found the Ministers anxious to have the affair peaceably adjusted; they were ready to treat with the Dey provided it could be made to appear that he had himself proposed the negotiation, and were willing to promise the brig in return for the mission of an Algerine Ambassador to Paris. The Admiral was accordingly instructed to assure the Dey, that if he would comply with this formality, peace would be immediately signed and the brig would be presented to him; but in order that no proofs might exist of the advances made by the French Ministry, the whole negotiation at Algiers was to be conducted verbally, through an interpreter chosen for the purpose from the School of Oriental Languages at Paris.

With these instructions, and accompanied by M. Bianchi the interpreter, M. de la Bretonniere returned to the Bay of Algiers. The Sardinian Consul, who undertook to arrange the preliminaries of the negotiation proposed to the Dey that it should be conducted in conferences between His Highness and the French interpreter, who had arrived at Algiers for the purpose on the 23d of July. This, Hussein immediately refused to allow, and the Admiral was thrown into the very dilemma which he wished to avoid; that is to say he was obliged to write a letter, or to abandon the attempt at negotiation. In order to avoid this difficulty a letter was written in the Turkish language, proposing in very general terms the renewal of former relations between the two Governments, but saying nothing either about the Ambassador or the brig. Hussein in reply expressed his satisfaction at the offer which had been made by the French Admiral, whom he invited to come on shore and confer personally with himself on the subject. M. de la Bretonniere accepted this invitation, and accordingly entered the harbor on the 30th of September 1829, in his flag ship the Provence of eighty guns, accompanied by the brig which had been the proximate cause of the negotiation. He landed on the following morning, and had a long conference with the Dey, of which the particulars have not transpired. On the 3d of August they had another conference, which lasted but a short time; on this occasion it is said the Admiral insisted on the mission of an ambassador as an act of reparation to France, at which the Dey became so enraged, that he ordered him immediately to leave Algiers; certain it is that the conference was suddenly broken up, and the parties separated, each in a state of high excitement. M. de la Bretonniere immediately embarked, and sailed with his ships out of the harbor; on passing by the Mole the Provence received a shot from the fort, and although the flag of truce was displayed at her mast head, the firing was continued until she was beyond their reach. The ship is said to have received eighty balls; her port holes were however kept closed, for had she returned the fire, it is probable that she would have been sunk. That this flagrant violation of good faith was the result of the Dey's orders, no one in Algiers at the time for a moment doubted; Hussein however pretended that it arose from a mistake, and that he had only ordered a gun to be fired in case the ship should approach too near to the batteries, as a signal for her to keep off. He moreover dismissed from office the Minister of Marine, on whom the responsibility of the act rested; in so doing however, he only advanced one of his own ends, for the vacancy was immediately filled by the appointment of his son-in-law Ibrahim Kara-Dengirzli, the nephew of the Aga Ibrahim.

The feeble and distracted Ministry which authorized this negotiation, had been dissolved ere the news of its result arrived in France; and those who succeeded to power in that country, though possessing energy and union of purpose, were for some time wholly occupied in preparing to confront the liberal party at the ensuing session of the Legislature. No decisive measures were therefore taken with regard to Algiers during the remainder of 1829; the blockade was indeed maintained, but with so little rigor as to be scarcely more than nominal; the Algerine cruisers were spread over the western part of the Mediterranean, and occasionally appeared before Marseilles, while the French Admiral with the greater part of his ships remained generally at Port Mahon.

Attempts were made at this period, to effect an adjustment of the differences, by the Governments of Great Britain and Turkey, which were the most interested in preventing any change in the political condition of the Barbary States. When the British Government received the news of Hussein's flagrant violation of good faith, in firing upon the French Admiral, the Pelorus sloop of war was despatched to Algiers, where her commander Captain Quin united with the British Consul Mr. St. John, in endeavoring to prevail upon the Dey to propose terms of peace. This effort proving vain, the Pelorus sailed to Constantinople, where it was agreed between the Ambassadors of France and England, that the Sultan should be requested to interpose; to this the Turkish Government readily assented, and Halil Effendi a venerable and respectable Turk, who had long known Hussein and been much esteemed by him, was ordered to proceed to Algiers, and to entreat or command the Dey no longer to provoke the vengeance of his powerful enemies. Halil arrived in the Pelorus on the 28th of November at Algiers, where he was received with great kindness and affection by the Dey and by all classes of the inhabitants. His arguments and entreaties soon produced effects, from which the mediators augured the most favorable consequences; for Hussein after some days of reflection and consultation with his Ministers, agreed to propose to M. de la Bretonniere the renewal of the negotiations, offering him every assurance of honorable treatment in case he should come to Algiers, and as an earnest of the sincerity of his intentions, promising the surrender of all the French prisoners. The Pelorus sailed with these proposals on the 10th of December for Mahon, where she was detained nearly three months in expectation of the Admiral's reply; at length M. de la Bretonniere declared, that as he was still bound by the first instructions from his Government, he could admit of negotiation on no other terms, than the mission of an Ambassador to Paris to bear the explanations of the Dey. With this answer Captain Quin returned to Algiers on the 1st of April 1830; but no arguments could induce Hussein to adopt the measure proposed: "God is Great!" said he, "Let the French come."

In the mean time the French Ministry had taken a most serious determination. The insult offered by the Dey in firing upon M. de la Bretonniere, was concealed from the public as completely as possible; no mention of it was made in the Moniteur, yet it finally became known, and the opposition press of Paris eagerly seized the opportunity, to vilify the hated Ministry of Polignac for delaying to avenge the insulted honor of France. In this condition of things it became absolutely necessary for the Government to take some decisive step towards a conclusion of the war, in order to relieve itself from a heavy and increasing burthen of popular odium on this account. To effect this purpose, two plans were proposed in the Ministerial Council. Count de Bourmont the bold and active chief of the War Department, was in favor of an expedition sent directly from France, against the capital city of the offending Sovereign. Prince Polignac the head of the Ministry, was doubtful of the propriety of risking such an attempt upon a place defended by nature, by art, and above all by the savage fanaticism of the surrounding population; he moreover conceived that even if Algiers were to fall into the hands of the French, it would be impossible for them to retain it, without a constant expenditure of force and treasure, for which no return could be reasonably expected. His plan was therefore to arm against the Algerines, an enemy professing the same faith with themselves, who in the event of success might be bound by his interests, to pursue a policy accordant with the wishes of France and of Europe in general.

The ideas of Polignac were adopted by the King, and the French Ambassador at Constantinople was instructed to propose to the ambitious Pasha of Egypt, that he should undertake the conquest of Algiers, or even of all Barbary, in which France would under certain conditions aid him by the co-operation of its naval force. The Ambassador accordingly despatched M. Huder one of the officers of his Embassy to Cairo in order to submit this proposition to the Pasha; Mehemet Ali readily acceded to it, the projet of a Convention on the subject was drawn up, and the French agent arrived in Paris with it about the end of January 1830. The British Government had however by this time penetrated the secret of the negotiation, and ever jealous with regard to the occupation of the Barbary coast by any strong Power, its Ambassador at Paris was immediately instructed to protest against the plan. As the correspondence on this subject was never published, we have no means of knowing precisely the grounds of opposition taken by the British Ministry; they probably had reference only to the interests of the Sultan, which might be seriously affected by so great an addition to the force of his refractory Viceroy. Whatever may have been the influence of this opposition, the project of a co-operation with Mehemet Ali was abandoned, and it was determined that an expedition should with the least possible delay, be sent from France against Algiers.

Preparations for carrying this resolution into effect were immediately commenced in all the ports and arsenals in France, and they were prosecuted with a degree of vigor which excited the admiration of Europe. The various branches of the service were placed under the superintendence of the most experienced persons, apparently without reference to their known political inclinations; and all the resources of mechanical and medical, as well as military and naval science, were employed to add to the health and comforts of the soldiers and to give efficiency to their operations. Works relating to Northern Africa were examined with attention, and the records of preceding expeditions against Algiers were studied, in order to discover and provide against the circumstances which occasioned their failure. Toulon having been chosen as the place from which the armament was to sail, troops were collected in its vicinity, and prepared by peculiar exercises for the duties which they would be required to perform. Ships of war lying at the different naval establishments, were ordered to be fully equipped, and as soon as ready to be sent to the rendezvous, where a number of merchant vessels for the transportation of men and materials were bound by contract to assemble at the appointed time.

The object of these preparations after having been communicated in general terms to the Governments of the other great European nations, were publicly announced by the King in his address at the opening of the Legislative session on the 2d of March 1830. The reply made by the Chamber of Deputies, shewed clearly that the Ministry would find no favor with that body; this had been anticipated and the session was accordingly prorogued, with a view to the ulterior dissolution of the intractable Chamber. The Liberal Party having by this time taken the alarm, their journals which had been previously filled with invectives against the Ministers for their apathy under the insults of a Barbarian, now loudly condemned the objects of the expedition and prophesied that it would be fruitless. The violence of these denunciations induced the Ministry to insert an article in the Moniteur of April 20th, which although unofficial, was afterwards formally acknowledged to be the expression of the sentiments of the Government. This article was composed with much care, and although no one of its statements taken separately can be contradicted, yet their arrangement, the omissions of important circumstances and the studied obscurity of the language on certain points, renders the result of the whole the opposite of that which would arise from a candid exposition. General Alexandre de Laborde made an able reply in the Constitutionnel of the 26th of the same month; he fully demonstrated the unimportance of the African Concessions, the seizure of which was made the principal grounds of the difference, in the Ministerial declaration; he shewed that the bad faith of the Government and of its agents had given the Dey just cause of discontent, that the weakness and indecision of the late Ministry had provoked and encouraged his insults, and that the real end of the expedition then in preparation, was to subdue, not the barbarians of Africa, but the friends of true liberty in France. Motives of patriotism, and feeling for the honor of the country may indeed have influenced the Ministry in adopting this resolution; but there can be no doubt that its principal object was to sustain the despotic party in France, by reproducing in the people that admiration for military glory, which experience has shewn to be incompatible with respect for institutions founded on equality of rights.

To the announcement of its intentions with regard to Algiers, the French Ministry received the most satisfactory answers from many of the Powers of the European Continent. The British Government however, which had manifested its disapprobation of the plan for establishing the Egyptian authority in Barbary, was still more unwilling that France should possess a country, "which in the hands of a more civilized and enlightened Government, could not fail to exercise an important influence over the commerce and maritime interests of the Mediterranean Powers." The French Ambassador at London, when requested to explain more fully, replied by "the most positive assurances of the entirely disinterested views of the Cabinet of the Tuilleries;" and the British Ambassador at Paris on addressing the same demand to Prince Polignac, was informed "that a satisfactory answer would soon be given respecting the objects of the expedition, and the future destiny of the Regency of Algiers in case of success."

Accordingly on the 20th of March the French Ambassador at London communicated to Lord Aberdeen then Secretary for Foreign Affairs, a letter from Prince Polignac, in which after enumerating the various grievances suffered by France from Algiers, and stating the conviction of his Government that treaties would be of no avail in preventing their recurrence, he declared that his Sovereign had resolved to seek redress by force, and at the same time to advance the interests of humanity, by abolishing piracy, Christian slavery and the payment of tribute to the Barbary Regencies; "and if," concludes the Prince, "in the approaching struggle, the Government now existing at Algiers should be dissolved, the King whose views in this question are entirely disinterested, will concert with his Allies respecting the new order of things, which should for the greatest advantage of the Christian world replace the system overthrown, and be most proper to secure the ends thus proposed by His Majesty." This letter was considered by the British Cabinet, as "scarcely affording that entire satisfaction which might be reasonably expected;" and its Ambassador at Paris was in consequence instructed to insist upon an official assurance from the French Government, that it "renounced all views of territorial possession or aggrandizement." The despatch containing this instruction was read to Prince Polignac, who repeated in general terms that "the expedition was not undertaken with a view to obtain territorial acquisitions," adding however that "he had no objection to give any assurance, which might be calculated to remove the uneasiness of the British Government."

For this assurance Lord Aberdeen waited for some time in vain; on the 21st of April the French Ambassador read to him a letter from the Prince containing a declaration sufficiently explicit and satisfactory; but he was not authorized to give a copy of it, and applications were again made to the French Government. Polignac whose only object was to gain time, evaded these applications by the liberal employment of petty artifices; at length on the 17th of May, when the expedition was about to sail, the French Ambassador delivered to Lord Aberdeen an official copy of a despatch addressed to him by his Government in the form of a circular to the different courts of Europe. In this circular the King of France declared to his Allies that his objects were to obtain redress for the injuries committed by Algiers, to secure the French possessions in Africa from future aggressions, and to receive indemnification for the expenses of the war, as well as to effect the abolition of piracy Christian slavery and the exaction of tribute; and that until these ends should be attained and sufficiently secured he would not lay down his arms nor recall his troops from Africa. In case the existing Government of Algiers should be overthrown, he would immediately concert with the other Powers as to the new order of things to be there established, for the greatest advantage of the Christian world; and as it was probable that they might soon be required to give their opinions on this subject, he invited each Government without delay to furnish its Representative in France with the proper instructions. "His majesty," says the French Minister in the despatch, "will appear at these deliberations, ready to furnish every additional explanation which may be desired, disposed to take into consideration the rights and interests of all, not bound by anterior engagements, at liberty to accept any proposition which may tend to assure the attainment of the result indicated, and free from all feelings of personal interest."

Not satisfied with such vague promises, the British Minister replied through the Ambassador at Paris, that although "no further suspicion could be entertained of any design on the part of the French Government to establish a military occupation of the Regency, or to accomplish such a change in the state of territorial possession on the shores of the Mediterranean, as should affect the interest of European Powers," yet "he could not avoid calling the attention of Prince Polignac to the peculiar situation of Algiers in its relation to the Ottoman Porte;" that although "many Governments of Europe had contracted engagements with that Regency as an independent State," and others "continued to regard the Barbary States as essentially dependant on the Turkish Empire," yet "the supremacy of the Sultan was allowed by all;" he therefore "submitted to the serious consideration of the Prince, what must be the effect of a precedent, which thus disposes of the rights of a third party, against whom no complaint whatever has been alleged." To this no reply was made, and the negotiation or rather the discussion ended.

The preceding statement of the correspondence between the French and British Governments, relative to the disposition to be made of Algiers in the event of its conquest, is drawn from the official letters which passed on the occasion; they were published in compliance with a call made by Lord Aberdeen in the House of Peers of Great Britain on the 3d of May 1833. From an examination of those documents, it appears that no engagement was entered into by the French Government to recall its troops from Algiers at any period; equally unfounded is the assertion made by the French historical writers, respecting the reply of Prince Polignac to the British Ambassador, that "France when insulted asked the aid of no power in avenging its honor, and would be accountable to none for the disposal of its conquests." It would be impossible to give a summary of the results of the negotiation more satisfactory, or drawn from a source entitled to greater consideration, than that presented by Lord Aberdeen when he called for the production of the Correspondence in the House of Lords; "no Convention was signed on the subject, nor was any express stipulation entered into for the evacuation of Algiers by the French force; but important engagements were contracted, which in reference to all the Powers interested in the commerce of the Mediterranean, and in the territorial arrangements of that part of the world, were calculated to allay apprehensions which might reasonably have existed respecting the occupation of Algiers by the French."

There were difficulties also within the Ministerial Council. The preparations for the expedition were nearly completed, before it was known who was to command it. Three Marshals and six Lieutenant Generals are said to have been successively proposed and rejected; at length the Moniteur of the 20th of April, the same which contained the defence of the objects of the expedition, announced that the King had appointed Count de Bourmont the Minister of War, to the command of the Army of Africa, as it was termed. The appointment to a station so responsible of a man who had betrayed every cause in which he engaged is said to have received the unwilling assent of the King; it was considered a fortunate circumstance by the Liberal Party, as it contributed to excite the indignation of the whole country, and to deprive the Government of the popularity, which it might otherwise have gained by the expedition.

On the day when his nomination was published, Bourmont left Paris for Toulon, the affairs of his Department having been committed during his absence to Prince Polignac. He was followed by the Minister of the Marine, and soon after by the Duke d'Angouleme, who as grand Admiral of France came to review the armament before its departure.

Certainly never did the harbor of Toulon, nor any other harbor exhibit a more gallant spectacle.

The Army of Africa was composed of thirty-seven thousand six hundred and fifty men; the number of horses employed in the different branches of its service was three thousand eight hundred and fifty-three, and the artillery consisted of one hundred and eighty pieces of cannon. This force was arranged in three divisions, which were placed severally under the commands of Lieutenant Generals the Baron de Barthezène, Count de Loverdo, and the Duke d'Escars; the Chief Engineer was General Valazé and the artillery was directed by Count de la Hitte. The number of ships of war was one hundred and three, including eleven of the line, twenty-three frigates and seven steam ships; they were manned by twenty-seven thousand seamen, and carried more than three thousand guns. They were arranged in three squadrons; the Squadron of Battle commanded by Admiral Duperré, who conducted the naval operations of the expedition; the Squadron of Disembarkation by Admiral Rosamel, and the Squadron of Reserve by Captain Lemoine. Between four and five hundred merchant vessels were engaged for the transportation of horses, provisions and materials, and many others were allowed to accompany the fleet, laden with various articles which might be needed. Of the equipments and accompaniments of this force, it would be difficult to convey an adequate idea, without entering into details which might not prove generally interesting; suffice it to say that no expense was spared to render them complete, and that nothing was neglected, which could contribute to the attainment of the end proposed. Upon the whole, the armament was superior to any other which in modern times has crossed a sea; those led by Charles the Fifth against Tunis and Algiers, the famed Spanish Armada sent by Philip the Second for the invasion of England, and even the mighty expedition conducted by Napoleon to Egypt being each inferior to it in appointments, in naval force, and in the numerical amount of the persons engaged.

All things being in readiness the embarkation of the troops was commenced on the 11th of May, and having been conducted with the utmost order and precision, it was terminated in a week. On the 25th the wind being favorable the first squadron sailed out of the harbor; the second followed on the 26th, and the third on the 27th. They directed their course for Algiers; it was however arranged that in case of separation by storm or other unexpected occurrence, the place of rendezvous would be Palma the capital of the Island of Majorca.

Scarcely had the first squadron quitted Toulon, ere it was met by a Turkish frigate escorted by one of the ships of the squadron which was blockading Algiers. The Turkish frigate bore no less a personage than Tahir Pasha the Capudan Pasha or High Admiral of Turkey, who had been sent by the Sultan with full powers to arrange the differences between France and the Dey. He had sailed first to Algiers, where he intended to command Hussein to accept the terms required by the French, and in case of refusal to depose him and take possession of the place in the name of the Sultan; but the commander of the blockading squadron off that place had received orders to suffer no ship to enter the harbor, and Tahir finding it impossible to land, hastened to Toulon in hopes that his representations might prevent the sailing of the expedition. Well was it for the Pasha, that he was not permitted to enter Algiers, for Hussein who knew of his approach and of the objects of his visit, had prepared to have him strangled as soon as he landed.

The Turkish Ambassador on meeting the French fleet, boarded the Admiral's ship, and had a conference with Bourmont which of course proved ineffectual; he then continued his voyage to Toulon, where he was placed in quarantine immediately on his arrival. Thence he attempted to transmit his communications to the Government, but great care had been taken to prevent them from reaching their destination. The British Ambassador asked explanations from the French Minister as to the objects of his visit, and endeavored to procure a hearing for him; but Prince Polignac adroitly evaded the questions, by confessing with the greatest apparent frankness, that he was entirely ignorant for what purpose the Turkish Ambassador was sent. Tahir at length seeing that it was useless to remain longer, and have "his beard thus laughed at," went back to Constantinople.

Before the scene of the history is changed to Africa, it may be stated, that on the 15th of May, while all France was intent upon the preparations for the departure of the expedition, an ordinance appeared in the Moniteur dissolving the Chamber of Deputies. A few days after a partial change was made in the Ministerial Body by the introduction of persons still more opposed to liberal institutions than those whom they replaced, and still more odious to the nation at large. The French Ministry subsisted as thus organized until the 28th of July, when Charles the Tenth ceased to reign.

A LAY OF RUIN.

BY MISS DRAPER.

'Twas nightfall—and the stars their pale light threw
Upon the Cortées, and her joyous crew,
Propitious heaven a friendly cool wind gave,
That fanned them gently o'er the silvery wave:
Upon the deck, mingled the gay and young,
In giddy motion—while the pleasant sound,
The lively note of merry music rung
In lightsome echoes, on the water round.
Oh! it is glorious, when on ocean far,
A prosperous crew their jovial revels keep,
Gazing on Beauty 'neath the midnight star,
And dancing on the bosom of the deep.
Amid his mates, thick gather'd round the mast,
The laughing sailor whistles loud, and sings
Of storm, and shipwreck, and strange dangers past,
Of sharks, and crocodile, and all such things
As eat men up at sea—and then anon,
Of Heathen temples, and of Christian domes,
Of Greenland Beauties, in a freezing zone,
And dark-ey'd Donnas, in their sunny homes.
Far from the rest—pensive, and silently,
Mute as a statue, Sobieski stood,
A banish'd Pole—a gallant soldier he,
Of noble aspect, and of noble blood.
It wanted not the aid of tongue to speak,
All Sobieski had been—or was now:
The silent tear, upon his manly cheek,
The thick, deep furrows of his lofty brow,—
His faded lip, his melancholy gaze,
Told the sad history of gone-by days.
And closely by his side a frail girl clung,
The proud Pole's daughter: with a tearless eye,
And pensive smile—upon his arm she hung,
Like some pale being from the distant sky.

A breeze arose—it was a joyous breeze—
And as they hurry through the parting seas,
From highest mast the anxious tars look out:
"Land, land ahead!" the hopeful sailors shout.
It blew a gale—it blew a heavy gale—
With dexterous hand they furl the rattling sail.
A tempest came—against a frightful rock
The Cortées struck—hearts quiver'd with the shock.
"Down with the life-boat,"—'twas a fearful cry;
And oaths, and prayers, went mingling through the sky.
By raging winds and furious breakers lash'd,
'Gainst the tall cliffs again the Cortées dash'd—
On the white waves a scatter'd wreck she lay,
And the wild billows roll'd her mast away.
Slowly, but safe, the crowded life-boat bore
Its precious burden, to the nearing shore—
And as with breathless haste the thankful crew
Leapt on the land, all hands were safe but two;
But two were wanting, two, and two alone,
The Polish Maiden! and the exiled one!
They two had linger'd on the Cortées, till
The hardy Captain, seeing all must fly,
Tore down a light boat; with a dismal cry,
And frantic rush, the slender bark they fill.
For life—for life—the weary sailors row'd.
For life—for life—Oh! 'twas a vain endeavor;
The little skiff o'erburden'd with its load,
Was slowly sinking in the waves forever—
Ah! which of them, with land in sight, could bear
To meet Death thus? Hope makes a coward brave,
And they who might have shudder'd in despair,
Kept fearlessly above the billowy wave—
The dexterous swimmers, reach'd the life-boat's crew,
And Sobieski could have reach'd it too;
But in one arm his terror'd child he bore,
And with the other battled with the sea:
Bravely he toil'd to gain the distant shore;
The rest were there already—only he,
And his wan daughter, with exhausted breath,
Were flying from the watery jaws of Death.
At length, the frenzied Pole beheld the land,
And eager, with a Father's tender hand,
Fondly, he raised Pascobi's drooping head;
She trembled not—her terror all had fled—
The Polish maid was with the fearless dead!
The distant thunder murmur'd through the air,
The lightning gleam'd amid the clouds afar,
The hollow wind went whistling—low, away
On unknown journies. Light, and lovely day
Were brightly dawning on that lonely spot,
Where lay the victim of the direful storm,
So still—so pale—so beautiful—with not
An eye to weep for her. In holy calm,
And silent grief, her sire was kneeling by—
Pascobi slept, as free from care as pain—
And 'twere a sin that e'en a father's sigh
Should wake that daughter into life again.
Once, Sobieski under Poland's sun
Had proudly lorded over lands his own—
And now, his Spirit could not stoop to ask
A Stranger to bestow on him a grave—
He took his pale child, 'twas a bitter task,
And buried her beneath the quiet wave.

BALLAD.

Far 'neath the dim mountains
The daylight dies—
And Heaven is opening
Her starry eyes;
The Moon o'er the tree-tops
Looks down on the stream,
Where the castle's broad shadow
Sleeps—dark as a dream.
From the Oriel-lattice
A bright Lady gazed—
Her eyes—sad—though tearless,
To heaven upraised.
Her brow was all paleness—
Yet beauty dwelt there—
A picture of sorrow
With raven dark hair.
She marked not the softness
Of dim vale and stream—
The mist on the mountain—
The lake's distant gleam—
She saw not the mimic
Dew-star in the grass,
Nor the pale damp that hung o'er
The haunted morass.
She heard not the owlet's
Sad song from the wood—
Nor the rush of his wings as
He sailed o'er the flood—
Nor rapid hoofs ringing,
And neigh echoed shrill,
As the hurrying horseman
Spurred over the hill.
Oh! her thoughts were far distant
Far—far—in the land,
Where her gallant crusader
Held knightly command.
She prays for his safety,
Who sleeps in his gore
By the crimson-dyed sands of
Far Galilee's shore.
The dark waving cypress
O'ershadows his grave—
A cross tells the pilgrim
Where sleepeth the brave—
And the horseman who knocks at
The castle-gate,
Hath a tale for its Lady,
A seal for her fate.

W. M. R.

THE GOURD OF JONAH.

The gourd mentioned in Jonah as springing up in one night, is in the Hebrew 'Kikajon.' St. Jerom and many others call it ivy. St. Jerom, however, acknowledges ivy to be an improper translation. The Kikajon, according to Galmêt, is a non-parasitical shrub found in the sandy places of Palestine. It grows with rapidity, and has thick leaves resembling those of a vine.

THE COUSIN OF THE MARRIED,

AND THE COUSIN OF THE DEAD.
[From the French.]

There was found, under the Restoration, a man who was surnamed The Cousin of the Married, and who merited the appellation by a course of industry and ingenuity truly singular. He repaired every morning to the office of the Mayor of the twelve districts of Paris, and stationed himself before the little grate, where are endorsed notices of all marriages about to take place. He read attentively the names of the affianced persons, learned their qualities, and informed himself of their fortune. When he obtained all this information, the ingenious Cousin made his choice, always deciding, however, in favor of that marriage which was expected to attract the greatest number of guests, and which promised the most sumptuous dinner. He would then buy an enormous bouquet, put on his fine black coat, a pair of open-work stockings and light pumps, and then take from his bandbox his new hat; so attired he would proceed cautiously among the carriages, with a buoyant step, to the church where the marriage ceremony was to be performed, join the crowd of attendants, and officiously offer to hold the nuptial veil. When the benediction was pronounced, he created himself Master of Ceremonies, leading the way to the carriages, giving his hand to the ladies, carefully lifting their dresses to prevent them from coming in contact with the coach wheels, shutting the coach doors and bidding the drivers proceed to the appointed hotel. For himself he was no less careful, as he always contrived to secure a place for himself in one of the carriages, so as to arrive with the rest of the company. It was then that he was brilliant, and then that his liveliness and gaiety served to beguile, with the company, the tedious hour before dinner. He had for all some remark to excite laughter—he repeated a pleasant little story, adapted to the time and circumstance of the assembly—he hastened the preparations for the repast—humorously recommended the guests to be patient, and to prepare their appetites for eating, and when all was ready he would announce the fact himself. He was the Major Domo of the house—the man indispensable—the commissary of the feast. Every voice was in his praise—"that gentleman is very amiable"—and if any one indiscreetly inquired his name, it was answered that he was presumed to be the parent or friend of the bride, or a cousin or an intimate friend of the groom.

But it was at the table that his efforts to please were particularly conspicuous. He would post himself in the place of honor—seize the great carving-knife—cut up the meats with admirable promptness and dexterity, and carefully and politely wait upon every guest. He directed the servants, overlooked the courses, and tasted the wines. Then when the dessert was brought, he would take from his pocket a piece of pink paper, mysteriously unfold it, and sing from it a stanza in honor of the newly married couple, composed by himself expressly for the occasion. The good fellow knew but one little story and but one stanza, but he served them up every morning in a new edition.

Unfortunately this witty sharper was one day detected in his career of imposition. Seduced by the attraction of great names, he went to the marriage festival of a rich nobleman of the Fauborg St. Germain. He had assisted at the mass—returned in an elegant barouche to the hotel—had glided unobserved into the parlor, and stood waiting for a suitable opportunity to rehearse his amusing little story, and to commence his impromptu remarks, so often before repeated. All at once he became the object of general attention; all at once he found all eyes fixed upon him. The mistress of the feast had counted her plates and her guests, and had ascertained that of the latter there was one too many. She was astonished to find on inquiring the name of the Cousin, that no one knew him, and that no one recognized him as a friend. For the first time the Cousin of the Married lost his self-possession and his assurance. How was he to escape the gaze of the eyes fixed upon him? How was he to answer the questions which might be addressed to him? Presently, a gentleman advances towards him and asks—"By which of the married couple were you invited—on which side are you?"

"On which side?" said the Cousin of the Married, taking his hat, "on the side of the door;" and so saying, he quickly descended the stairs and left the house. Since that day no one has heard tell of him.

But if we have no longer the Cousin of the Married, we have now the Cousin of the Dead, an expression equally as significant as the first.

Ruined by the Revolution of 1793, the Count of V***, was obliged to accept of a very modest employment. In consequence of a change in the Ministry, the old clerk was compelled to leave his office, with no other resource to sustain life, than a miserable income of 400 francs per annum. He was old, and alone in the world. His strength did not permit him to labor, and by constantly dwelling on his poverty, he became melancholy, and subsequently fell dangerously sick. By carefully attending to the advice of a physician, who generously refused to accept the small sum the old man offered to give for his services, he became, in time, somewhat restored. This physician prescribed for his patient, on pain of a relapse, frequent exercise and a daily ride. You may judge of the poor man's embarrassment! How could he ride every day in a carriage, when his little income was scarcely sufficient to procure the essentials of life? The smallest excursion in a cabriolet cost twenty-five sous—one excursion per day would be four hundred and fifty francs per annum, and his whole yearly income amounted to only four hundred. At that time omnibusses were not invented.

He was beginning to despond when the heavens sent him succor. In passing near St. Rock, he observed that the gate of the church was hung in black, and that a long line of vehicles were in waiting to conduct a funeral procession to Père La Chaise. The coachmen were on their seats, and their strong and beautiful horses, covered with the trappings of mourning, were awaiting with impatience, the moment of departure. The advice of the physician recurred with great force to the mind of poor V***—a feeling of jealousy glided into his inoffensive heart. He envied the fortune of those who could thus ride gratis—he envied, for one instant, the happy destiny of the deceased, in being conveyed to his last earthly home, in a splendid hearse, drawn by four magnificent horses. Feeling a curiosity to know the name and history of one upon whom fortune had so lavished her favors, he entered the church and piously knelt down among the mourners. V*** had on his only black coat, and he was immediately taken for one of the friends of the deceased, and after the ceremonies in the church, was offered a place in one of the funeral carriages. The occasion was too opportune to be neglected, and he gladly jumped into the wished-for carriage.

On the way, a thousand ideas passed through his imagination. He thanked heaven for having furnished him with the means to fulfil, in so economical a manner, the recommendation of his physician. He accompanied the corpse to the grave—saw the coffin laid in the tomb, and on leaving the churchyard, he found the coach in waiting, and the coachman ready to convey him home.

Since that event V*** has become the willing assistant of all public interments; and what was, at first, only useful as a means of exercise, has become for him a pleasure and a delight. He goes to a funeral as others go to the theatre, to a ball, or to a festival. He daily reads the lists of deaths in the city, and these lists are to him a journal, and the only one for which he conceives there is any use. Still more, he has taken lodgings opposite the dwelling of the undertaker, and every morning he crosses the street to converse with the undertaker, and inform himself of the burials of the day. He puts on his blue surtout or his black dress, according to the rank and fortune of the deceased, the expenses of the funeral, &c., and for all grand ceremonies he wears crape on his arm. V*** is now generally known by the title of the Cousin of the Dead. For fifteen years he has not missed a single funeral. His views are too liberal to adopt party feelings; he has assisted to inter Bellart and Manuel, Talma and the Bishop of Beauvais, a female follower of St. Simon and the lady Superior of the Convent of Minimes, and he hopes to live to inter many other characters equally distinguished. He once presented to the Chamber of Deputies, a petition for a law interdicting the embalming of infants, by which the number of funeral processions is materially lessened.

The Cousin of the Dead possesses a remarkably expansive sensibility, and an extraordinary quantity of sympathy for the afflictions of others. He feels the grief of a bereaved mother, the despair of a heart-broken widow, the sorrow of a childless father, with the poignancy of truth. Many a legator, in noticing his sorrow at the grave, has taken him for a disinherited relative; many a mother has been gratified to see him shed tears over her favorite son, and many an husband, on losing a beloved wife, has been astonished at his grief over her remains. He composes funeral orations for all illustrious persons; the burial place is his life and his world. At times, struck with the appearance of grief depicted on his countenance, the friends of the dead have desired him to be the principal mourner.

One day, during the burial of a personage of considerable importance, the Cousin of the Dead was observed to shed an abundance of tears. One of the mourners approached him and desired that he would make a few appropriate remarks—jeter quelques fleurs sur le cercueil—on the individual whose remains they had just deposited in the cold grave. The procession closed around him as he prepared to speak.

"The tomb," said he, "is again about to enclose the remains of a distinguished citizen." He stopped for a moment, and inquired, in a low voice, the name of the deceased. He was answered, "Augustin Leger."

"Augustin Leger," he resumed, "was a man, grave and austere. His long life was but a continued series of virtuous and benevolent acts. He was entirely devoted to the holy, the legitimate cause of——"

He was a regicide!

"The rights of the sovereign people. His disinterestedness——"

He was a usurer!

"His laudable economy, his aversion to luxury, his unassuming and modest deportment, had gained for him universal esteem. But still more worthy of admiration were his virtues in private life—his patience, his humility, and his devoted and unchangeable attachment to the wife of his bosom, the lady of his choice."

He had been divorced!

"For his children he cherished the most affectionate and tender regard."

He had driven them from his house!

"Virtuous friend! May the earth rest lightly on thy coffin!"

THE DUC DE L'OMELETTE.

BY EDGAR A. POE.

And stepped at once into a cooler clime.
Cowper.

Keats fell by a criticism. Who was it died of The Andromache?¹ Ignoble souls!—De L'Omelette perished of an ortolan. L'histoire en est breve—assist me Spirit of Apicius!

¹ Montfleury. The author of the Parnasse Reformé makes him thus express himself in the shades. "The man then who would know of what I died, let him not ask if it were of the fever, the dropsy, or the gout; but let him know that it was of The Andromache."

A golden cage bore the little winged wanderer, enamored, melting, indolent, to the Chaussée D'Antin, from its home in far Peru. From its queenly possessor La Bellissima, to the Duc De L'Omelette, six peers of the empire conveyed the happy bird. It was "All for Love."

That night the Duc was to sup alone. In the privacy of his bureau, he reclined languidly on that ottoman for which he sacrificed his loyalty in outbidding his king—the notorious ottoman of Cadêt.

He buries his face in the pillow—the clock strikes! Unable to restrain his feelings, his Grace swallows an olive. At this moment the door gently opens to the sound of soft music, and lo! the most delicate of birds is before the most enamored of men! But what inexpressible dismay now overshadows the countenance of the Duc?——"Horreur!—chien!—Baptiste!—l'oiseau! ah, bon Dieu! cet oiseau modeste que tu as deshabillé de ses plumes, et que tu as servi sans papier!" It is superfluous to say more—the Duc expired in a paroxysm of disgust.

* * * * *

"Ha! ha! ha!"—said his Grace on the third day after his decease.

"He! he! he!"—replied the Devil faintly, drawing himself up with an air of hauteur.

"Why, surely you are not serious"—retorted De L'Omelette. "I have sinned—c'est vrai—but, my good sir, consider!—you have no actual intention of putting such—such—barbarous threats into execution."

"No what?"—said His Majesty—"come sir, strip!"

"Strip indeed!—very pretty i' faith!—no, sir, I shall not strip. Who are you, pray, that I, Duc De L'Omelette, Prince de Foie-Gras, just come of age, author of the 'Mazurkiad,' and Member of the Academy, should divest myself at your bidding of the sweetest pantaloons ever made by Bourdon, the daintiest robe-de-chambre ever put together by Rombêrt—to say nothing of the taking my hair out of paper—not to mention the trouble I should have in drawing off my gloves?"

"Who am I?—ah, true! I am Baal-Zebub, Prince of the Fly. I took thee just now from a rose-wood coffin inlaid with ivory. Thou wast curiously scented, and labelled as per invoice. Belial sent thee—my Inspector of Cemeteries. The pantaloons, which thou sayest were made by Bourdon, are an excellent pair of linen drawers, and thy robe-de-chambre is a shroud of no scanty dimensions."

"Sir!" replied the Duc, "I am not to be insulted with impunity!—Sir! I shall take the earliest opportunity of avenging this insult!—Sir! you shall hear from me! In the meantime au revoir!"—and the Duc was bowing himself out of the Satanic presence, when he was interrupted and brought back by a gentleman in waiting. Hereupon his Grace rubbed his eyes, yawned, shrugged his shoulders, reflected. Having become satisfied of his identity, he took a bird's eye view of his whereabouts.

The apartment was superb. Even De L'Omelette pronounced it bien comme il faut. It was not very long, nor very broad,—but its height—ah, that was appalling! There was no ceiling—certainly none—but a dense, whirling mass of fiery-colored clouds. His Grace's brain reeled as he glanced upwards. From above, hung a chain of an unknown blood-red metal—its upper end lost, like C——, parmi les nues. From its nether extremity hung a large cresset. The Duc knew it to be a ruby—but from it there poured a light so intense, so still, so terrible, Persia never worshipped such—Gheber never imagined such—Mussulman never dreamed of such when drugged with opium he has tottered to a bed of poppies, his back to the flowers, and his face to the God Apollo! The Duc muttered a slight oath decidedly approbatory.

The corners of the room were rounded into niches. Three of these were filled with statues of gigantic proportions. Their beauty was Grecian, their deformity Egyptian, their tout ensemble French. In the fourth niche the statue was veiled—it was not colossal. But then there was a taper ankle, a sandalled foot. De L'Omelette laid his hand upon his heart, closed his eyes, raised them, and caught his Satanic Majesty—in a blush.

But the paintings!—Kupris! Astarte! Astoreth!—a thousand and the same! And Rafaelle has beheld them! Yes, Rafaelle has been here; for did he not paint the —— ? and was he not consequently damned? The paintings!—the paintings! O Luxury! O Love!—who gazing on those forbidden beauties shall have eyes for the dainty devices of the golden frames that lie imbedded and asleep against those swellings walls of eider down?

But the Duc's heart is fainting within him. He is not, however, as you suppose, dizzy with magnificence, nor drunk with the ecstatic breath of those innumerable censers. C'est vrai que de toutes ces choses il a pensé beaucoup—mais! The Duc De L'Omelette is terror-stricken; for through the lurid vista which a single uncurtained window is affording, lo! gleams the most ghastly of all fires!

Le Pauvre Duc! He could not help imagining that the glorious, the voluptuous, the never-dying melodies which pervaded that hall, as they passed filtered and transmuted through the alchemy of the enchanted window panes, were the wailings and the howlings of the hopeless and the damned! And there too—there—upon that ottoman!—who could he be?—he, the petit-maitre—no, the Deity—who sat as if carved in marble, et qui sourit, with his pale countenance, si amerement.

* * * * *

Mais il faut agir—that is to say a Frenchman never faints outright. Besides, his Grace hated a scene—De L'Omelette is himself again. There were some foils upon a table—some points also. The Duc had studied under B——, il avait tué ses six hommes. Now then il peut s'echapper. He measures two points, and, with a grace inimitable, offers his Majesty the choice. Horreur! his Majesty does not fence!

Mais il joue!—what a happy thought! But his Grace had always an excellent memory. He had dipped in the "Diable" of the Abbé Gualtier. Therein it is said "que le Diable n'ose pas refuser un jeu d'Ecarté."

But the chances—the chances! True—desperate: but not more desperate than the Duc. Besides, was he not in the secret?—had he not skimmed over Pere Le Brun? was he not a member of the Club Vingt-un? "Si Je perds," said he, "Je serai deux fois perdu," I shall be doubly damned—voila tout! (Here his Grace shrugged his shoulders) Si Je gagne Je serai libre,—que les cartes soient prepareés!

* * * * *

His Grace was all care, all attention—his Majesty all confidence. A spectator would have thought of Francis and Charles. His Grace thought of his game. His Majesty did not think—he shuffled. The Duc coupa.

The cards are dealt. The trump is turned—it is—it is—the king! No—it was the queen. His Majesty cursed her masculine habiliments. De L'Omelette laid his hand upon his heart.

They play. The Duc counts. The hand is out. His Majesty counts heavily, smiles, and is taking wine. The Duc slips a card.

"C'est à vous à faire"—said his Majesty cutting. His Grace bowed, dealt, and arose from the table en presentant le Roi.

His Majesty looked chagrined.

Had the drunkard not been Alexander, he would have been Diogenes; and the Duc assured his Majesty in taking leave "que s'il n'etait pas De L'Omelette il n'aurait point d'objection d'etre le Diable."

THE ILIAD.

Mr. H. N. Coleridge says there would be no difficulty in composing a complete epic poem with as much symmetry of parts as is seen in the Iliad, from the English ballads on Robin Hood.

RUSTIC COURTSHIP

IN NEW ENGLAND.

[From the lips of an Octogenarian.]

Won by the charms
Of goodness irresistible.
Thomson.

"You see, ma'am," said the old man, "my mother died when I was twelve years old. About that time old Mr. C—— came down, and set up for a great marchant. Well, his wife was sick, and she sent to ——, where she came from, for a widow-woman to come and take care of her. This widow-woman had three children. Her husband, had been a sea-faring man, and he was wracked and lost down there at Halifax,—and left his wife with nothing at all, and these three children to take care of."

"Well, my daddy, ma'am, fell in with her, some how or other, and married her. She was a nice woman—as good a mother as ever was,—and had great larning, and knew how to do every thing,—only she didn't know nothing about country-work, you see. Well, her oldest daughter came down, (for my dad had agreed to take one of the children,) and she was a nice gal; and a while after the boy came down. Well, there was nothing said; we all worked along; and the daughter she got married—married Mr. H——, (you know his folks?—) he broke his neck afterwards, falling from his horse."

"Well, a while after this tother daughter came down. Debby was dreadful plain!—I thought she was dreadful plain!!—but she was a nice gal—smart, working—and good to every body. You see, there were four young children of the second crop, and they had got ragged; and Debby spun, and wove, and clothed, and mended them up. Well, she went back,—but they couldn't live without her, and sent for her again, and so she came. She took care of every thing—saw to my things, and had them all in order,—and every thing comfortable for me in the winter, when I went in the woods,—but I thought nothing, no more than if she'd been my sister."

"Well, by this time I was a youngish man; and in my day, the young folks had a sort of a frolic every night. I used to go,—and sometimes went home with one gal, sometimes with another,—but never thought of Debby. Well, there was a Mr. —— came to see her, but she wouldn't have nothing to say to him; and after that, one came from the Shoals—a rich man's son; his father gave him a complete new vessel, and every thing to load her; but Debby wouldn't have nothing to do with him nother. Then I wasn't worth so much as this stick!—Well, I wondered, and so I says to mother, 'Mother, what's the reason Debby wont take this man?—she'll never better herself!'—'Don't you know, John?' says mother. 'No.' So I says to Debby—'Why don't you have him, Debby?' 'Because,' says Debby, says she, 'if I can't have the one I want, I wont have nobody!'"

"Well, I thought nothing,—but went on, frolicking here, and frolicking there, till one night as I was going home, just towards day, with one of my mates, says I, 'Tom,' says I, 'I wont go to another frolic these two months! If I do, I'll give you a dollar!'—'You?' says he—'you'll go afore two nights!' 'Well, you'll see,' says I.—Well, I stayed at home steady; and after a while says father, says he to mother, 'Suzy,' says he, (for that was the way he always spoke to her—) 'Suzy,' says he, 'I guess John has got tired of raking about so,—and I'm glad of it.' 'I hope he has,' says mother."

"Well, one day we were all sitting at table,—mother sot there,—and father sot there,—and the hired man next him,—(for we had a hired man, and hired gal,) and Debby was next to mother, and the gal next, and I between the hired man and hired gal. Well, mother was joking the hired man and gal,—(she was a great hand to joke,) and I cast an eye at Debby, and I thought, 'I never see any body alter as you have, Debby!'—She looked handsome!—Well, Debby was weaving up stairs; and I was mowing down by the well, close by the house; and I felt kind of uneasy, and made an excuse to go in for a drink of water. Well, I went in;—and I went up stairs, and into tother chamber—not the one where Debby was weaving,—(for I was kind of bashful, you see,—) and then I went in where Debby was—but said nothing,—for I had never laid the weight of my finger on the gal in my life. At last, 'Debby,' says I, 'what sort of a weaver are you, Debby?' 'O, I guess I can get off as many yards as any body,' says she; 'and I want to get my web out, to go up on the hill to sister's, this afternoon.' 'Well,' says I, 'tell her to have something nice, for I shall be up there.' 'We shan't see you there, I guess,' says Debby. 'You will though,' says I; 'see if you don't!' Father had a great pasture on the hill,—a kind of farm like, (for my father was a rich man!—) so just afore night up I goes, and they had every thing in order. So a while after supper I says to Debby, 'Debby, 'tis time for us to go, for 'twill be milking-time, by the time we get home.' So we went right down across,—and on the way we talked the business over. I married her—and a better wife never wore shoe-leather!"

PALÆSTINE.

Palæstine derives its name from the Philistæi, who inhabited the coast of Judæa. It has also been called "The Holy Land" as being the scene of the birth, sufferings and death of our Redeemer. It was bounded on the north by Syria, on the east by Arabia Deserta, on the south by Arabia Petrea, and on the west by the Mediterranean. The principal divisions of the country were Galilea in the north, Samaria in the middle, and Judæa in the south. This country is at present under the Turkish yoke; and the oppression which it now experiences, as well as the visible effects of the divine displeasure, not only during the reign of Titus, and afterwards in the inundations of the northern barbarians, but also of the Saracens and Crusaders, are more than sufficient to have reduced this country, which has been extolled by Moses, and even by Julian the Apostate, for its fecundity, to its present condition of a desert. Galilea, the northern division, is divided by Josephus into Upper Galilea, called Galilea of the Gentiles because inhabited by heathen nations—and Lower Galilea which was adjacent to the sea of Tiberias, and which contained the tribes of Zebulon and Ashur. Galilea was a very populous country: containing, according to Josephus 204 cities, and towns, and paying 200 talents in tribute.

The middle district, Samaria, had its origin in a division of the people of Israel into two distinct kingdoms, during the reign of Jeroboam. One of these kingdoms, called Judah, consisted of such as adhered to the house of David, comprising the two tribes of Judah and Benjamin. The other ten tribes retained the name of Israelites under Jeroboam. Their capital was Samaria, which also became the name of their country. The Samaritans and people of Judæa were bitter enemies. The former differed in many respects from the strictness of the Mosaic law. Among the Judæans, the name of Samaritan was a term of reproach.

The southern division, Judæa, did not assume that name until after the return of the Jews from the Babylonian captivity—though it had been called long before "the kingdom of Judah," in opposition to that of Israel. After the return, the tribe of Judah settled first at Jerusalem; but afterwards spreading over the whole country, gave it the name of "Judæa."

The only rivers of any note in Palæstine are the Jordanes, and the Leontes, which latter passes through the northern extremity of Galilea. The Jordan, according to a curious story of Philip the Tetrarch, has its origin in a lake called Phiala, about ten miles north of Cæsarea of Samochon. This is said to have been ascertained by throwing into the lake some straw which came out where the river emerges from the ground, after having run fifteen miles beneath the surface of the earth—Mannert the German, thinks this fabulous, and places the source of the river in Mount Paneas, in the province of Dan. The Jordan holds a south-westerly course—flows through the lake Samochon, or Samochonites, or as it is called in the Bible, Merom; after which, proceeding onwards till received by the sea of Tiberias, or lake of Genesareth, it emerges from this, and is finally lost in the Dead Sea. In ancient times it overflowed its banks annually, about the period of early harvest; and thus differing from most other rivers, which generally swell in the winter, it was supposed to have a subterraneous communication with the Nile. But now, we can perceive no rise, which is probably owing to the channel having been deepened by the swiftness of the current. The name is supposed to be derived from the Hebrew "Jarden," on account of the river's rapid "descent" through the country.

The Dead Sea, called also Asphaltites, from the "asphaltos," or bitumen, which it throws up, is situated in Judæa, and near 100 miles long and 25 broad: but is called by Tacitus "Lacus immenso ambitu." Its waters are extremely salt; but the vapors exhaled from them are found not to be so pestilential as they have been usually represented. It is supposed that the thirteen cities, of which Sodom and Gomorrah, as mentioned in the Bible, are the chief, were destroyed by a volcano, and once occupied the site of the Dead Sea. Earthquakes are now frequent in the country. Volumes of smoke are observed to issue from the lake, and new crevices are daily found on its margin.

The country is mountainous. The range of Libanus, so named on account of their snowy summits, from the Hebrew "Lebanon," white, is imperfectly defined. The principal part of them lies towards the north of Galilea, but the name of Libanus is sometimes given to several parallel chains, which run through the whole extent of Palæstine. Between two of these ranges lay a valley so beautiful that some have called it a terrestrial Paradise; though situated in a much higher region than the greater part of the country, it enjoys perpetual spring—the trees are always green, and the orchards full of fruit. Libanus has been famed for its cedars. Mount Carmel is a celebrated mountain, properly belonging to Samaria, but on which the Syrians had an altar, but not a temple, dedicated to their god Carmelus. A priest of this deity, according to Tacitus, (Lib. 2, cap. 78,) foretold the accession of Vespasian to the throne.

The principal towns in Galilea were Dio-Cæsarea, Jotapata or Gath, Genesareth, and Tiberias. Tiberias was built by Herod, near the lake of the same name, and called after the emperor. After the taking of Jerusalem, there was at Tiberias a succession of Hebrew judges, till about the time of the abdication of Dioclesian and Maximinianus. Epiphanius, bishop of Salamis, says that a Hebrew copy of St. John, and the Acts of the Apostles, was kept in this city.

The chief cities of Samaria were Neapolis, Antipatris, Archelais, Apollonia, Samaria, and Cæsarea. Cæsarea, was the principal, and was anciently called "Turris Stratonis." It was much embellished by Herod, who named it Cæsarea in honor of Augustus—and was the station of the Roman governors. Samaria was situated on Mount Sameron, and was the residence of the kings of Israel, from the time of Omri, its founder, to the overthrow of the kingdom.

In Judæa, were the cities of Engedi, Herodium, Hebron, Beersheba, Jericho, and Jerusalem. Jericho was in the tribe of Benjamin, near the river Jordan; and is called by Moses the city of palm-trees, from the palms in the adjacent plain, which are also noticed by Tacitus. It was destroyed by Joshua, but afterwards rebuilt. Jerusalem, the capital, was anciently called Salem, or Jebus, by the Jebusites, who were in possession of it till the time of David; but it was then called by the Hebrews Jeruschalaim, signifying "the possession of the inheritance of peace." The Greeks and Romans called it by the name of Hierosolyma. It was built on several hills, of which Mount Sion, in the southern part of the city, was the largest. To the north was Acra, called the "second," or "lower city"—on the east of which was Solomon's temple, built on Mount Moriah. North-east of this was the Mount of Olives, and north of it Mount Calvary, the place of the crucifixion. This city was taken by Pompey, who thence derived his name of Hierosolymarius. It was also taken and destroyed by Titus, (in the year of our Lord 71, by the account of Tacitus—but according to Josephus,) on the 8th of Sept. A.D. 70—2177 years after its foundation.

In this siege 110,000 persons are said to have perished, and 97,000 to have been made prisoners, and as Josephus relates, sold as slaves, or thrown to wild beasts for the sport of the conquerors.

MARTORELLI.

Martorelli was occupied for two years in a treatise to prove that the use of glass for windows was unknown to the ancients. Fifteen days after the publication of his folio, a house was found in Pompeii all whose windows were paned with glass.

LIVING ALONE.

BY T. FLINT.

There are, to whom to live alone,
Sounds in their ear the funeral moan
Of winter's night breeze, sad and deep,
A prelude of sepulchral sleep.
To live alone I have no dread,
And careless hear upon my bed,
Between the wintry night wind's howl,
The hootings of the forest owl;
Reckless I wrap myself in gloom,
And court endurance for the tomb.
Time was, my feelings were not so:
When Spring upon the drifted snow
Breath'd warm, and bade the waters flow;
When turtles coo'd; on the green hills
Skip'd the spring lambs, murmur'd the rills,
And spread their cups the daffodils,
I was as gay, and with me played
Full many a budding, blue-eyed maid;
My heart, the merriest thing of all,
Bounded within me at the call
Of laughing nature. Ah! 'twas then
The thought of living far from men,
And festive throngs, and social glee,
Had seemed a living death to me.
I loved; but I was plain and poor—
My fair one rich—and from the door
She sign'd my passport—bade me go,
And, as I might, digest my wo.
One shrug'd, and said, "he must confess,
To cling to one so purposeless,
Would be a folly all would blame
As more than due to friendship's claim."
Another cut our feeble tye,
Because I pass'd all chances by
To mend my fortunes, unimprov'd,
Too weak to be sustain'd, or lov'd.
At last I found a pretty one,
Who lov'd me for myself alone.
I was thrice dear to her, but she
A thousand times more dear to me:
I was the happiest one that liv'd,
And should have been, while she surviv'd.
I saw her suffering, saw her fail—
And in my eye the sun grew pale;
Nature's stern debt she early paid,
And in the earth my gem was laid:
My heart then grew, as marble, cold—
And, fortune's worst endur'd, grew bold.
Supine in nature's busy hive,
Men deem'd me dead, though still alive.
One and another slid away,
And left me lonely, old and gray.
'Tis all a vanity, I said,
And to my lot bow'd down my head—
Found pensive gladness in my gloom,
A prelude requiem of the tomb,
And felt myself too sternly wise
With useless grief to blear my eyes.
As my slow hours still strike their knell,
I fancy it my passing bell,
And strive, ere yet I pass away,
To grow insensible as clay.

THE VALLEY NIS.

BY E. A. POE.

Far away—far away—
Far away—as far at least
Lies that valley as the day
Down within the golden East—
All things lovely—are not they
One and all, too far away?
It is called the valley Nis:
And a Syriac tale there is
Thereabout which Time hath said
Shall not be interpreted:
Something about Satan's dart
Something about angel wings—
Much about a broken heart—
All about unhappy things:
But "the valley Nis" at best
Means "the valley of unrest."
Once it smil'd a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell,
Having gone unto the wars—
And the sly, mysterious stars,
With a visage full of meaning,
O'er th' unguarded flowers were leaning,
Or the sun-ray dripp'd all red
Thro' tall tulips overhead,
Then grew paler as it fell
On the quiet Asphodel.
Now each visiter shall confess
Nothing there is motionless:
Nothing save the airs that brood
O'er the enchanted solitude,
Save the airs with pinions furled
That slumber o'er that valley-world.
No wind in Heaven, and lo! the trees
Do roll like seas, in Northern breeze,
Around the stormy Hebrides—
No wind in Heaven, and clouds do fly,
Rustling everlastingly,
Thro' the terror-stricken sky,
Rolling, like a waterfall,
O'er th' horizon's fiery wall—
And Helen, like thy human eye,
Low crouched on Earth, some violets lie,
And, nearer Heaven, some lilies wave
All banner-like, above a grave.
And one by one, from out their tops
Eternal dews come down in drops,
Ah, one by one, from off their stems
Eternal dews come down in gems!

NEW TESTAMENT.

The Greek of the New Testament is by no means, whatever some zealots assert, the Greek of Homer, of Anacreon, or of Thucydides. It is thickly interspersed with Hebraisms, barbarisms, and theological expressions. The Evangelists differ much in style among themselves. St. Matthew is not as pure as St. John, nor he as St. Paul. St. Luke is the most correct—especially in the Acts.

CASTELLANUS,

OR THE CASTLE-BUILDER TURNED FARMER.

A pleasing land of drowsy head it was
Of dreams that wave before the half shut eye,
And of gay castles in the clouds that pass
Forever flushing round a summer sky.
Thomson.

MR. WHITE,—It is a long time since I threw my mite into the treasury of your book; Nugator's occupation's gone! was my ejaculation when last I wrote to you. The same devouring element which has recently plunged New York in misery and gloom, had just then triumphed over much of my earthly possessions, but over none more foolishly prized than sundry small wares which were intended for your market. As there was no prospect of getting Congress to extend the time of the payment of my bonds, to which one would think I was as justly entitled as the rich merchant, I had to set to work as best I might to repair the ravages of fire. In the midst of saws and hammers, of bricks and mortar, my ideas have been so vulgarized, that you must not expect to see a Phoenix rise from my ashes. From me you must never expect any thing but trifles, as my signature portends; yet when I reflect that this world is made up of small things as well as great, and that the former are as essential to constitute a whole as the latter, and that your book ought no more than the world to consist altogether of the grand, but should sometimes admit the trifling, I am encouraged to begin again, although already scorched by more fires than one, having encountered the fire of some of your critics. As the mouse sets off to greater advantage the bulk of the mammoth, the critics should rather be pleased than otherwise, to see my wretched skeleton in contrast with the vast proportions of some of your contributors,—but enough.

Romances and novels made my neighbor Castellanus a castle-builder; nothing can be more dissimilar than the world he inhabits and that ideal one in which he has always lived; like certain persons who shall be nameless, he has been literally in the world and out of it at the same time, and his experience therefore might justify a seeming paradox. I think it was Godwin in his Fleetwood, who drew so beautiful a contrast between our night dreams and day dreams. Castellanus never could bear the former, attended by hag and night mare, where we are forever struggling to attain some goal, which we can never reach; he did not like to start affrighted out of sleep; to sink through chasms yawning beneath his feet;

"Nor toss on shatter'd plank far out upon some deep."

No, I have heard him exclaim, "Give me the dreams of day; let me recline upon some bank in summer shade, supine, where fancy fits her wings for pleasant flight, and quickly ushers me into her radiant halls. No hope defeated can there make me grieve; no cup untasted from my lips be dashed; no light, receding ever, there can shine, but whatsoever there be of joy or love to mortals known, is seized at once and easily made my own." There are few persons, perhaps, who do not at some period of life, construct these gay castles, yclept in air, and well indeed is the appellation bestowed, for though more splendid far than the works of old; more passing rare than all of which we read;—Balbec's! Palmyra's!—none could excel them,—yet in a moment they will topple down, nor leave one marble column, spared as if to point to the scene of desolation and to mourn for its brethren, broken, ruined, and overthrown. Such monuments are sometimes seen standing amid that decay, produced by Goths and Vandals; and Goths and Vandals still in modern times will break, irruptive, on the castle-builder's chosen spot—misfortunes! griefs! pale care! tormenting debt!—Then fancy, all thy revelry is forgotten; reluctantly from our sweet couch, we rise and homeward frowning hie to toil and writhe and fret. But such is the skill of the artist, that he has but to ramble forth where all is still and wave his wand, when in an instant, like the enchantment of old, his shining palaces will upward climb. It is not so, alas! with those works barbarians overturned; none know how to raise them to such sublime heights; lost are those arts by which they towering rose, and we but gaze on them to sigh and curse the hands which slew them.

This practice of castle-building had been the habit of Castellanus from his boyhood. It gave him a strange unsocial turn and made him shun the inmates of his father's house. He fled all company, and the pleasures which others pursue were rarely pleasures to him. One enjoyment he had which never palled. Some lonely seat beside a "wimpling burn" or waterfall, where human sounds fell distantly; there with book in hand, he drank in the lulling music with which such a place is fraught; there would he draw forth, unseen, some old romance with worn and dusky lid, of "haunted Priories" with bloody hand, or dark "Udolpho" with its deep mysteries, its gliding ghosts, and secret pannels. Then would fall the curtain on this mortal vale and all its hateful realities, and his rapt soul would revel in the high wrought tale of fancy. For him these fictions had an unspeakable charm—gallant youths were his companions. He trod with them over Alps and Appenines, where banditti lurked amid the dreary forests and lights were seen to glance and disappear. Soft maidens, too, were there, whose superhuman charms won every heart; encompassed by ten thousand dangers, he could not leave them, until he saw them safely locked in love's triumphant arms. Though a very ugly fellow, he had deceived himself into the belief that he should one day or other marry one of these delightful creatures, and had even settled that her name should be Julia, and thought he should be one of the happiest fellows upon earth; but, Mr. Editor, who do you think he now is? a clodhopper!! aye a miserable clodhopper! The owner of land and negroes!! In that one sentence, I sum up all of human misery—and what do you think is his wife's name? Peggy! Phœbus what a name!

"Cobblers! take warning by this cobbler's end."

Yes, ye castle-builders! look upon his undone condition and take warning. Take warning, parents, and bring up your children to suit the sphere in which they are to move. I shall not trouble you with the why and the wherefore of his present condition, but suffice it to say that such it is, and then picture to yourself the untold miseries he must endure when I depict to you the sort of life he is leading, with such passions as I have already described his ruling ones to be. Imprimis: there is Peg—but I had better say as little as possible of her, out of respect for the ladies and out of regard for my friend, because in truth like "Jerry Sneak," he has not eaten a "bit of under crust since he was married," but follow me if you please upon his farm, and let me introduce you to his plagues and tormentors. Let us look for the overseer—we shall find him, if at home, which is seldom the case, seated on a stump, with the symbol of his office under his arm. There he is, you see, mounted on his throne lazily looking at the laborers; working the land to death by injudicious cultivation; extorting the last drop of vitality from it; a foe to every species of improvement, and obstinately bent upon going on in the jog trot of his predecessors. This is Castellanus' companion ex necessitate. Shades of the Orvilles and Mortimers! pity him. What can there be in common between them? What can they talk about? About Evelina and Amanda?—cottages covered with woodbine and honeysuckle?—landscapes and glorious sunsets?—the warbling of birds?—Oh no, Suk and Sall, negro cabins or pig-styes, corn fields and——yes, they can talk of birds, but they are blackbirds and crows, and devil take their warbling—of sunset, but only to lament the shortness of the days. His (the overseer's) themes are rogues and runaways—he is eloquent upon hog-stealing, and neither Simon Sensitive nor Timothy Testy could recount more readily the miseries of human life. His are the miseries of Geoponies. Rot—rust—weevil—fly and cutworm, haunt his imagination and dwell upon his tongue. Castellanus had rather be a dog and bay the moon than discuss such subjects. But my friend's delight was once in horses; it was one of the few pleasures he had. His fancy was early captivated by Alexander mounting Bucephalus; a horse gaily caparisoned and mounted by a steel clad knight, was a sight upon which his imagination feasted. The red roan charger of Marmion at the battle of Flodden had thrilled his every nerve,

"Blood shot his eyes—his nostril spread
The loose rein, dangling from his head
Housing and saddle bloody red."

Oh what a picture! and that I should be obliged to exhibit to your view the counterfeit presentment. The ploughboys are just coming out of the stable with their master's horses going to plough. Here, sir, is Buck-e-fallus, as the negro boys call Bucephalus. There is no difficulty in mounting him; they have knocked out one of his eyes; he has a blind side and cannot see the shadow cast by the sun. If his spirit was ever as high as his namesake's, he has lost it now—that little ragged urchin can ride him with a grape-vine—raw-boned, spavined and wind-galled! let him pass and let us see the next. This is Smiler! "Lucus a non lucendo," I suppose; alas! he never smiles—he reminds one of Irving's wall eyed horse looking out of the stable window on a rainy day. His look is disconsolate in the extreme; from the imperturbable gravity of his manners, you perceive he is dead to hope; melancholy has marked him for her own; bad feeding, constant toil, and a lost currycomb, have made him "what thou well may'st hate," although he once "set down" as "shapely a shank" as Burns' Auld mare Maggie ever did. Do you see that long legged fellow, that Brobdignag, mounted upon the little mare mule? His legs almost drag the ground, and he ought in justice to toat (aye, sir, toat, a good word, an excellent word, and one upon which I mean to send you an etymological essay some of these days,) the animal he bestrides. There are some singular traits about that mule Golliver, as the boys by a singular misnomer call her. She keeps fat "while other nags are poor;" it is because she lives in the corn-field. She can open the stable-door by some inscrutable means, some sort of open sessame; gates are no impediments to her, and even ten rails and a rider cannot arrest her progress. She seems to have a vow upon her never to leave the plantation; she will go as far as the outer gate with her rider, but if he attempt to pass that boundary his fate is sealed. He is canted most unceremoniously over her head and made to bite the dust; that gate is her ultima Thule; her ne plus ultra; the utmost bound of her ambition. She has acquaintances enough, as Old Oliver says, and wishes not to extend the circle. Her policy is Chinese, or perhaps like Rasselas, she once escaped from her happy valley and was disappointed in the world—"one fatal remembrance" perhaps casts its "bleak shade" beyond that gate.—I know not in sooth, but heaven help me! what am I doing? If I go on thus, with the whole stud of my neighbor, and write at large upon every thing which torments him, I shall never have done. Suffice it then, that I give you a hasty, panoramic sketch of what he has to encounter in his rides over his farm. See him mounted on his little switch tailed grey, which has the high sounding title of White Surrey, and whose tail is nearly cut off at the root by the crupper—the mane in most admired disorder, and fetlocks long and bushy. Now what does he behold? Barren fields—broken fences—gates unhinged—starving cattle—ragged sheep—and jades so galled that they make him wince—hogs that eat their own pigs and devastate his crops—mares that sometimes cripple their own colts—cows on the contrary which have so much of the milk of vaccine kindness, that they suffer their offspring to suck after being broken to the cart—bulls even, that suck—rams, so pugnacious, that they butt his mules down, as the aforesaid Gulliver can attest, for often have I seen her knocked down as fast as she could rise—upon my life it's true, Mr. Editor, and you need not add with Major Longbow, what will you lay it's a lie? It was amusing to see the ram, with head erect and fixed eye, moving round in a small circle and watching his opportunity to plant his blows, with all the pugilistic dexterity of Crib or Molyneux. I once knew my unfortunate neighbor to have a fine blooded colt, foaled in the pasture with his mules. These vicious devils had no sooner perceived that the colt was without those long ears which characterize their species, than they set to work with one accord to demolish the monstrous production, and in spite of all the efforts of the mother, which fought with a desperation worthy of some old Roman, beset by a host of foes, succeeded in trampling to death her beautiful offspring. What a picture this is of some political zealots and envenomed critics, who no sooner perceive that a man has not asses ears, like themselves, than they commence a senseless outcry against him and compass his destruction. I have somewhere read of a madman, and perhaps he was right, who, when confined, protested he was not mad; that all mankind were madder than he, and that they were envious of his superior intellect and therefore wished to put him out of the way. Castellanus goes to ride out with Cecilia, Camilla, the Children of the Abbey, or some such book in his pocket, and so engrossed is his mind with the elegance and refinement of those personages, that he can scarcely bear to go where his overseer is. He shuns him as much as Lovel did Captain Mirvan, or old Mr. Delville Mr. Briggs. He turns with horror from the pictures of desolation and mismanagement around him, and hastens home to find consolation in the bosom of his heroines, not of his Peggy, for he cannot yet say "Non clamosa mea mulier jam percutit aures"¹—and in truth that virtuous lady has a tongue, and with it can ring such a peal about the above mentioned unproductive state of things, that he had rather hear the "grating on a scrannel-reed of wretched straw;"—or, to be less poetical, and to come back to what he hears every day, he had rather listen to the music of his own cart-wheels, which grate so harshly and scream so loudly that they may be heard a mile off. The inevitable result of all I have told you, Mr. Editor, is, that my neighbor is actually sinking three or four per cent. upon his capital every year, and must come to beggary unless you can arouse him from his ridiculous castle-building and novel reading. I wish you could see the style in which he moves with his cara sposa to church; they have come down, as we say, to an old gig, which cannot be quite as old as Noah's ark, because no two of the kind were ever seen in this world, and therefore could not have been preserved at the time of the Deluge, although the brass mountings on the muddy and rain-stiffened harness are of so antique a fashion, that we might well suppose the ingenuity of that celebrated artificer in brass, Tubal Cain, was employed in their construction. This crazy vehicle is drawn by the overseer's horse, which is borrowed for the "nonce,"—because neither Buck-e-fallus nor Smiler, nor any of the stud are fit to go, and Gulliver, besides being a mule, has declined, as I have already shewn, having any thing to do with our "external relations;" and furthermore, because this is the only conceivable mode in which my neighbor can obtain a return for that unlimited control which the said horse exercises over the corn in his corn-house. The contrast between the long lean figure, and rueful and cadaverous countenance of Castellanus, and the short figure resembling "the fat squab upon a Chinese fan," and the ruddy countenance of Mrs. Castellanus, is very striking;

They sit, side by side, in the gig, sir, as solemn
As Marriage and Death in a newspaper column.

How they ever came together, except by the fortuitous concourse of atoms, I cannot divine, for certainly without disrespect, I may say, that however charming Mrs. Castellanus may be, she is not

A beauty ripe as harvest,
Whose skin is whiter than a swan all over,
Than silver, snow, or lilies—

nor has she

————————a soft lip
Would tempt you to eternity of kissing,
And flesh that melteth in the touch to blood.

But we may cease to wonder at their union, when we reflect on the couples we see every day,—so totally dissimilar in taste and external appearance, that we may almost believe with St. Pierre that we love only those who form a contrast to ourselves. "Love," he says, "results only from contrasts, and the greater they are, the more powerful is its energy. I could easily demonstrate this by the evidence of a thousand historical facts. It is well known, for example, to what mad excess of passion that tall and clumsy soldier, Mark Anthony, loved and was beloved by Cleopatra; not the person whom our sculptors represent of a tall, portly, Sabine figure, but the Cleopatra whom historians paint as little, lively and sprightly, carried in disguise about the streets of Alexandria, in the night time, packed up in a parcel of goods on the shoulders of Apollodorus, to keep an assignation with Julius Cæsar."

NUGATOR.

¹ Nay, what's incredible, alack!
I hardly hear a woman's clack.—Swift.

SONG.

This is no "dark and dreary world,"
'Tis full of life and beauty—
Yet not to him, all "primrose path"
Who's in the way of duty—
And yet, to cheer him on the road,
The way-side flower is springing,
While to the charms of Nature's day
The wild-bird's sweetly singing.
There is a bliss in Virtue's path
Above all sensual thinking—
Would he might prove it, he who hath
"Joy"—Is there "joy in drinking?"
Believe it not—for who hath wo?
Oh, who hath saddest "sorrow?"
"Contentions," "wounds," night-revels show,
That blush to face the morrow.
"The wine is red," but "look not thou
Upon it;" false and glowing,
"'Twill sting thee like a serpent's tooth,"
While brightly it is flowing.
Eschew the joys of sense; they are
Unto my sober thinking,
But glozing o'er the black despair,
The deep, deep wo of drinking.
Look ye around where frowns "the curse"—
'Tis but disguised blessing;
The heart that trusts the living God,
Feels not its "doom" oppressing.
Thine, thine the heart, and thine the doom,
When done this earth's probation,
To realms of endless light and joy
A sure and bright translation.
Yet, e'en "the light that's now in thee,"
(Ah! 'tis no idle thinking,)
Will darken'd by "a demon" be,
If thou hast "joy in drinking."

M. M.

LINES

To Miss M——t W——s, of P. Edward.

From her own garden Nature chose,
In all its blooming pride the Rose,
And from the feathered race the Dove:
Then Margaret, on thy cheek she threw
The blushing flower's most beauteous hue,
And formed thy temper from the bird of love!
Oh! what delight it is to trace
The modest sweetness of thy face—
Thy simple elegance and ease—
Thy smile, disclosing orient pearl—
Thy locks, profuse of many a curl—
And hear thy gentle voice, that never fails to please!

LIBERIAN LITERATURE.

We are perfectly serious in speaking of Liberian Literature. Yes—in Liberia, a province on the coast of Africa, where, thirteen years and a half ago, the tangled and pathless forest frowned in a silence unbroken save by the roar of wild beasts, the fury of the tornado, the whoop of the man-stealer, or the agonizing shrieks of his victims on being torn from their homes to brave the horrors of the Middle Passage and of the West Indies—in Liberia, the English language is now spoken; the English spirit is breathed; English Literature exists; and with it, exist those comforts, virtues, and pleasures, which the existence of Literature necessarily implies. Plantations—farm-houses—villages, built of brick, stone, and wood—glass windows, carpeted floors, papered walls, and neat if not elegant furniture—well-supplied tables—stores, filled with various merchandize—churches, where neatly dressed throngs devoutly send up the note of praise—bands of infantry and artillery, properly organized, armed, and trained—schools, in which hundreds are inducted into the pleasant pathway of knowledge—and (the most expressive sign of all) a NEWSPAPER, filled with instructive and entertaining matter—all these, amid an industrious and thriving population of three or four thousand, have taken place of the savage forest and its unlovely concomitants. What heightens—indeed what constitutes the wonder—is, that the main operatives in this great change are not white men. The printer and the editor of the newspaper—the merchants—most of the teachers and all the pupils—the owners and cultivators of the farms—the officers and soldiers in the military companies—the throng in the churches—are all colored people, except some score of whites, whom the climate, generally fatal to white men, spares yet awhile, as if in gratitude for their benefactions to Africa.

What we especially had in view, however, when we began this article, was neither rhapsody nor dissertation upon the march of Liberia to prosperity and civilization—unparalleled as that march is, in the annals of colonization—but a notice (a critical notice, if the reader please) of the aforesaid newspaper; by way of instancing the literary condition of the settlement. Cowper calls a newspaper, "a map of busy life—its fluctuations, and its vast concerns:" and indeed we can imagine no surer index to the moral and intellectual character of a people, than the 'folio of four pages,' which periodically ministers to, and constantly takes its tone from, their prevailing tastes, tempers, and opinions.—We have before us half a dozen numbers of the "LIBERIA HERALD;" coming down to No. 4, of the sixth volume, dated October 31, 1835, whence we learn that it has existed for more than five years. It is printed on a sheet as large as many of our village papers, and larger than several which we occasionally see.

Its contents (considering where, and by whom they are selected, composed, and printed) are in the highest degree curious and interesting.

The shipping list for August, exhibits eleven arrivals, and six departures—that for April, five arrivals, and three departures—for February, 1835, six arrivals, and four departures—for October, three arrivals, and two departures. In the August number, are four distinct paragraphs, each mentioning a ship arrived with emigrants to the colony.

A striking feature in the Herald, is the great quantity of original matter which it contains—either editorial, or communicated. The number whence the above quotation is made, has four columns of editorial articles; and three sensible communications from correspondents—one of them detailing the murderous attack of the natives, in June last, upon the new settlement at Edina. Another tells of an excursion, on which we dare say it will please our readers to accompany the "peregrinator." If he does twaddle, he twaddles to the full as agreeably as many correspondents of American newspapers, and more usefully.

"For the Liberia Herald.

"Mr. Editor: I was induced, a few days since, by special invitation, to visit Caldwell. The occasion was one of the most honorable: the interchange of conjugal vows; the celebration of the nuptials of a couple, who conscious of mutual affection, made their offering at the hymeneal altar. The ceremonies were performed at 7 o'clock, P.M.; after which, the company (small but agreeable) enjoyed the flow of soul and social innocent merriment, until 9, when the happy pair returned, and the company dispersed. I repaired to Mr. Snetter's quarters, where I obtained lodging, comfortable in itself, but rendered much more so, by his peculiarly agreable manners. After breakfast, on the ensuing day, we peregrinated the settlement. Mr. Jameison's farm particularly attracted my attention. The quantity of land he has under cultivation, as also the advanced state of the produce, equally excited astonishment. He has potatoes, cassada, beans, peas, and rice, &c., growing with a luxuriance that I never before witnessed in this country. The cultivation of the latter article has not been much attended to, until lately; its culture has been supposed to be attended with so much difficulty and labor, as to deter from the attempt. The apprehension however, was groundless, and the perseverance of Messrs. Palm and Nixon, has given us evidence, in the most extensive field of rice ever before cultivated in this country, that the difficulties are such only as attend every experiment where there is the want of resolution to undertake it. The settlement of Caldwell is assuming the feature of a regular, farming village. The Agency Farm under the management of Mr. Snetter, is in forward condition.

Yours, &c. L. R. J."

But the greatest curiosity in this August number, is a critique upon Miss Fanny Kemble's Journal. Yes, reader—think of Mrs. Butler, and all the "terrifying exactions" of her redoubtable book, subjected, on the very margin of Guinea, to the criticism of an African Editor, who treats her as unceremoniously, if not as justly, as any critics on this side of the Atlantic, or on the north side of the Mediterranean. Imagine him in his elbow chair at Monrovia, his broad nose dilating and his thick lips swelling with conscious dignity, while he thus passes judgment upon one who perhaps would hardly suffer him to clean her shoes. The errors of spelling and syntax (the unsexing of the authoress included) are doubtless attributable to the printer: but there are some queer expressions, which seem the editor's own, and which are rather characteristic of African magniloquence.

"Francis Ann Butler.—To the politeness of the supercargo of the Brig Eliza, we have been indebted for a peep at the Journal of Miss Kemble, or as announced by the title page, Francis Ann Butler. From the celebrity of the tourist, we had anticipated much; but a perusal of the book treated us to a most vexatious disappointment. On the literary merit of the work, we do not feel ourselves competent to decide. But as it is an immunity allowed ignorance, to admire where it cannot comprehend, we avail ourselves of the privilege, and put in our share of admiration at the bold and beautiful figures which adorn the pages; such as 'Miniature Hell:' 'ghastly smiles of the Devil;' 'Blue Devils,' &c. These are certainly beauties of which we had no conceptions, until we got hold of the work. We may be allowed to say, as we pass, that they are not exactly in unison with that soft and tender delicacy, of which our imagination had composed the fair sex, of the higher order. We regret much that the work is not accompanied by a Lexicon, adapted to the style. The want of one has deprived us of much gratification; as doubtless the excellences of the work is locked up in such words as 'daudle,' 'twaddle,' &c., which are to us 'daudles' indeed, or in plain English, unexplorable regions. Such works may be of utility in communities, where there is sufficient discrimination to separate the little grain from the redundancy of chaff, without being chocked [choked] by it, but we can see no earthly advantage to us in reading them.

"We will venture to say, however, that if the notes are by the same hand, the authoress possesses a pretty considerable share of what may be called sound discriminating judgment on some particulars."

One number of the Herald contains some very sensible observations (editorial) upon the "Relations between France and the United States;" in which the probability of war is spoken of, and its occurrence earnestly deprecated. The danger from it, to Liberia, is considered: fears having been entertained by some, lest France might involve that colony, as she once did the British settlement at Freetown, in her quarrel with the mother country.

"The case, however," says the editor, "is not exactly parallel: Freetown and the whole colony of Sierra Leone, ever since their establishment, have been under the British flag, and as such, considered a member of the British empire—and therefore, its destruction, it might be argued, was perfectly in unison with the established principles of war. Ours is an experiment for political existence;—having a distinct and peculiar flag, owing allegiance to no government, but to that which is represented by the flag that floats over Liberia.

"We recollect having read, that at the time the great Navigator Captain Cook, was on his voyage of discovery, war broke out between England and France, and it was requested that Capt. Cook, should the enemy fall in with him, be allowed an unmolested passage. The French king replied, that he warred not on science, nor with the principles of humanity; and that an expedition undertaken for the benefit of all, should never meet obstruction from the flag of France."

A paragraph in the same number, announcing the organization of a Court of Appeals, with appellate jurisdiction in cases where the sum in dispute exceeds $100, expresses the orthodox republican sentiment, that "Laws are made for the benefit of the poor, as well as the rich; and in legislating, the former should be more especially kept in view."

And in the next column is mentioned the establishment, at Caldwell, of a FIFTH Baptist Church in the Colony.

Another number states important and cheering facts in regard to the progress of TEMPERANCE. Five hundred and three persons had signed the pledge of total abstinence from the use or sale of spirits, in the space of one month.

"So great an influence have these Societies exerted upon the community at large, that a sight of the liquid death has become rare.

"To Liberia's honor be it trumped, that for ten gallons sold in the Colony four months back, there is not one now. There are a few that advocate the cause of alcohol; but they cannot support their opposition long. Public opinion is issuing her imperious edicts, and every opposer will soon be awed into silence."

From the October number we extract the following item.

"Sabbath School.—On Sunday the 19th instant, a Sabbath School was opened in the Second Baptist Chapel: 33 children and 3 adults presented themselves, and had their names registered as scholars. Suitable books, such as would enable us to arrange the children in classes, are very much wanting. As it is, each having a different book, we are obliged to hear them singly, which makes it extremely laborious, and precludes the possibility of more than one lesson each, during the hours of school."

We would gladly copy a perspicuous and rational account which is given in several chapters, of the climate and seasons of Africa, the soil of Liberia, and the method of clearing lands; besides many other sensible and interesting articles, which say a great deal for the editor, correspondents, and readers, of the Herald: but we have so far exceeded the space we had allotted for this subject, that we must here close our remarks.

No one can read the Liberia Herald, without not only wonder, that so much intellect should emanate from such a source, but the strongest persuasion, that a colony, which in so brief a time has given such striking evidences of advancement in whatever distinguishes civilized from savage man, must succeed.

GIBBON AND FOX.

Gibbon, the historian, was at one time a zealous partizan of Charles Fox. No man denounced Mr. Pitt with a keener sarcasm, or more bitter malignity. But he had his price. A lucrative office won him over to the ministry. A week before his appointment he had said in Mr. Fox's presence, "that public indignation should not be appeased, until the heads of at least six of the ministers were laid on the table of the House of Commons."

This fact is found stated in the hand writing of Mr. Fox, on a blank leaf of a copy of Gibbon's History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, which was purchased after Mr. F's death, at a sale of his effects. The anecdote is followed by these lines, also in Mr. F's hand writing.

King George, in a fright,
Lest Gibbon should write
The story of Britain's disgrace,
Thought no means so sure
His pen to secure,
As to give the Historian a place.
But the caution was vain—
'Tis the curse of his reign,
That his projects should never succeed.
Though he write not a line,
Yet a cause of decline
In the Author's example we read.
His book well describes
How corruption and bribes
Overthrew the great Empire of Rome;
And his writings declare
A degeneracy there
Which his conduct exhibits at home.

STATIUS.

In Statius' Poem on the Via Domitiana, are these lines.

Qui primo Tiberim reliquit ortu,
Primo vespere navigat Lucrinum—

making a distance of one hundred and twenty-seven miles commonly travelled by the Romans in one day.

LIONEL GRANBY.

CHAPTER VIII.

——The yews project their shade; the green
Spreads her soft lap; the waters whisper sleep:
Here thou mayest rest secure.
Vacuna, by Sneyd Davies..

Leaving with speed the painful spectacle of my wounded friend, I fled into the close and matted undergrowth of the forest, and pausing for a moment to deliberate, I resolved to return to Chalgrave, and brave the remote risk of a criminal prosecution for an offence which juries tolerate with mercy, and courts with connivance. I was willing to trust to that deep-seated public opinion which enacts laws through one principle, and controls their execution from another; and from whose opiate breath the grim repose of the duelling law has never awakened. I passed through many of the classic paths of the old college, and suddenly diverging from the view of its rude and grotesque steeple, advanced into the broad road. I had not walked far before I perceived that I was pursued. Reasoning upon the principle that retreat is more or less allied to meanness, I soon found the hand of my pursuer firmly fixed on my shoulder, while he said, with a stern voice, "Mr. Granby, you are my prisoner! I arrest you in the name of the Commonwealth."

The powerful and iron grasp which was rivetted to my shoulder, declared the utter folly of resistance. Through the fading twilight I could discern the form of a roughly-built, and the countenance of a brave man; while the odd mixture of his apparel, coarse boots and a gaudy watch-chain, white ruffles and broad plated buttons, told the brief history of many a struggling argument between his purse and gentility.

"Release me," said I, "and this (showing a purse, through the net-work of which a golden sea leaped up to the eye,) shall be your reward."

"Mr. Granby," he replied, throwing his hand suddenly from me, as if a serpent had stung him, "we are now equal. I will teach you that I am as far above dishonor as you are. Put up your purse, for I solemnly swear that you shall not leave this spot until you have satisfied me for your gross and ungenerous insult. Take this pistol—I have another; either make an apology or fight. I will measure the distance, and you may give the word."

I was struck at once by the innate honor and Virginian feeling of the man; and throwing the pistol aside, I tendered him my hand, expressing at the same time my regret in having acted so indiscreetly.

"Why do you arrest me?" continued I. "It was an open duel, and Mr. Ludwell is not dead."

"Is that then the case?" he replied. "Will you pledge me your honor that such is the truth? I was told that it was an unfair duel, and I have put myself to great inconvenience to arrest you."

The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 3, February, 1836

SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER:

EVERY DEPARTMENT OF

LITERATURE AND THE FINE ARTS.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME II, NUMBER 3

SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.

SELECTION IN READING.

SKETCHES OF THE HISTORY

AND PRESENT CONDITION OF TRIPOLI, WITH SOME ACCOUNTS OF THE OTHER BARBARY STATES.

A LAY OF RUIN.

BALLAD.

THE GOURD OF JONAH.

THE COUSIN OF THE MARRIED,

THE DUC DE L'OMELETTE.

THE ILIAD.

RUSTIC COURTSHIP

IN NEW ENGLAND.

PALÆSTINE.

MARTORELLI.

LIVING ALONE.

THE VALLEY NIS.

NEW TESTAMENT.

CASTELLANUS,

SONG.

LINES

LIBERIAN LITERATURE.

GIBBON AND FOX.

STATIUS.

LIONEL GRANBY.