were folded, and his hat drawn over his forehead. His countenance seemed perfectly composed; but it was evident that something was working strongly in his mind, for during the whole quarter of an hour that I stood near him he never took a single pinch of snuff.

At length he turned round as thongh he had just awoke from a dream, and perceiving me, smiled, and said, "Well, Madam, yonder is my Olympus." Yes, Sire,' I replied, Olympus is always the abode of Jupiter.'

A telescope was placed before him; he looked through it for a few moments, and then ordered it to be taken away. wish," said he, "to enjoy the satisfaction of seeing these rocks gradually unfold themselves." But this was a melancholy satisfaction. As you will readily suppose, Caroline, we remained on deck the whole of the day. The blue hill by degrees separated, and soon appeared an irregular mass of broken rocks, rising perpendicularly out of the sea, here and there forming immense impending cliffs, separated from each other by narrow valleys or rather ravines. Nature can present nothing more dreary than these black barren masses of rock, unadorned either by trees or shrubs, and from which a peak (called Diana's Peak) rises to the height of about 3000 feet above the level of the sea.

our cabins, we heard him continually mov- | protested against this regulation as being
ing about, and we never for a moment injurious to his health, and declared his de-
closed our eyes.
termination not to submit to it, observing,
that he would rather be lodged in the mean-
est private house until his own residence
should be completed. He had too long
been deprived of the recreation of walking
or riding, and insisted on going on shore
for the sake of exercise motion, you
know, is his element.

The Captain spent another day in sailing backwards and forwards, and holding consultations with the Governor. At length he informed us, that we had permission to land on the following morning, but that Napoleon must in the meanwhile be content with the accommodation of a private house.

The anxious wish to obtain a nearer view of our new home, and eagerly to explore every corner that might be favourable to our projects, rendered our eyes watchful and our tongues silent. In the meanwhile the fresh breeze continued to carry us forward. On the following morning, as soon as daylight began to dawn, we all quitted our cabins, ascended the deck, and eagerly turned our eyes towards the land we were approaching, which was still enveloped in mist. At sun-rise we cast anchor in front of a little cluster of houses, which our sailors called Jaines Town. This town, which consists only of one street, is built on the sea-shore, on so narrow a space, that the We did not retire to rest the whole of back row of houses seem actually to join that night, which was the last we spent on the rock. I have been told that huge pieces board the vessel: we were busily employed of rock, when loosened by the rain, some-in packing up our things, dressing to go times roll down, break through the roofs ashore, &c. As soon as the sun had risen of these houses, and bury the inhabitants Napoleon appeared on deck in his full beneath the rains; and yet this is the uniform, with gold epaulettes, and the star principal town on the Island. of the Legion of Honour. The Governor sent out an elegant boat to convey the Emperor and the principal individuals of his suite on shore. The rest of the attendants followed in the boat belonging to the ship. Napoleon expected that on his quitting the Northumberland the guns of the ship would have been fired to bid him farewell, and that they would have been answered by a salute from the fortress; but on the contrary all was silent. When we landed we of course supposed we should find the Governor on the shore, but we saw nobody except the inhabitants, who had assembled through curiosity to get a sight of us.

Whether we shall enjoy the honour of residing in the superb capital of St. Helena, or whether a hut will be built for us in some extinguished crater, I know not. But this I know, that the noise on board the ship, joined to the thundering of the cannon, gave me such a violent head-ach, that I was obliged to lie down. After our salute had been returned by the guns of the fortress, the Captain went ashore in a boat, doubt less to make the necessary arrangements for our landing.

It is probable that the whole Island has, at some remote period, been thrown up from the sea by a volcanic eruption, and now the popular volcano of Europe has sent a visitor here who excites more astonishment among the inhabitants than a My husband came into my cabin several shower of moon-stones would do. When times, informing me that, with the aid of the Portuguese discovered St. Helena, 300 his telescope, he could plainly perceive the Napoleon desired that he might instantly years ago, they little thought that it would whole town in motion, people hurrying be conducted to his abode; but he was inbecome a place of banishment for a Corsi- from one place to another, soldiers mareh-formed that it was necessary he should in can hero, after he had driven their imbecile ing about, and messengers climbing up the the first place wait upon the Governor. On Regent to the Brazils. The English and rocks in every direction, probably to con-hearing this, fire darted from his eyes, but Dutch never imagined when, 150 years ago, vey information of our arrival to such of he repressed his indignation, and followed they were fighting for this barren rock, the inhabitants as were residing at their the Captain withont uttering a word. My that it was destined to receive a mighty so-country houses. My children came run-husband accompanied him. The rest of us vereign like Napoleon, who will soon issue ning to me twenty times in an hour to tell proceeded to some private houses on the from it decrees that will work a complete me what a vast number of boats were rowsea-shore, which had been hastily prepared transformation in Europe! As little did the ing from the shore and collecting round our to receive us they were situated on the East India Company suppose, when they ship. side next the rock, and were surrounded by were making establishments at St. Helena The Island contains altogether about guards. Soldiers were even stationed on the for their homeward-bound ships, that it 2000 inhabitants, and one half. the popu-rock, above the houses, probably to observe would one day become the prison of him lation were at that moment floating on the how we might employ ourselves if ever we who has so often threatened their destruc-water, in the hope of seeing a man whom took a fancy to go out on the roofs.

tion.

When Madame Letitia was in the straw at Ajaccio, in the year 1763, nobody ever dreamed that at that moment a meteor had risen on Corsica which would spread a flame over the rest of Europe. This flame is not extinguished, but is merely concentrated at St. Helena; and, without being a prophet, it is easy to foretel that new lightning will soon dart from Diana's Peak to illuminate the whole horizon of Europe.

The approach of night at length drove us from the deck. It was our custom to spend the evening in the Emperor's cabin, but on that occasion he expressed a wish to be alone. He slept none that night; for, through the thin partition which divided

they knew only through the medium of the
public Journals, and whom they never ima-
gined would visit St. Helena. But on this
occasion their curiosity was not gratified,
for Napoleon never quitted his cabin, and
strict orders were given that no one should
be permitted to come on board.

Napoleon soon arrived. He appeared much out of humour, and after rapidly inspecting the few apartments which his new residence contained, he walked up to one of the windows, and took several pinches of snuff. Bertrand afterwards informed me, that the Governor did not advance one step The Emperor evidently expected that the to meet him. He received him in his apartGovernor would pay him a visit; but the ment politely, but with great formality; latter did not think proper to do so. Late and when Napoleon, according to the Engin the evening the Captain returned with a lish custom, wished to shake hands with message, informing us, that we must re-him, he turned aside with evident embarmain on board the vessel until the Emperor's wooden house, which had been brought from England, could be got on shore, and fitted up for his reception. I was very glad to hear that the Emperor loudly

rassment. He addressed the Emperor by the title of General, made some triffing inquiries respecting his health, and coolly observed, that he would do every thing his instructions permitted to render the General's

distance is the spectator inclined to believe them real, but even when he approaches near enough to touch them, to swear, as Lord Peter did about the brown loaf, "by

it is substantial mutton as ever was sold in Leadenhall Market." Nothing that ever was painted surpasses this extraordinary performance in regard to the exact representation of still life, as we trust dead meat may very properly be called. There is also another merit belonging to this picture; the pigment employed in producing the appearance of cawls, white fat, &c. is wonderfully pure and natural. The softness, which does not impair its brilliancy as a colour, though it subdues it to a tone of perfect truth in its local application, is of 'a' description which we rather think it would puzzle the greatest painters of the day to parallel.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

MY BREAST.

Fatal this void within my breast!
I cannot breathe, I cannot rest,
My spirit sinks-I try in vain
To bear me up; yet 'tis not pain;
But as if all the nobler part

Where life is played for were undone :
As if the centre-fount, the heart,
Were parched-a streamless fount of stone:
As if the soul would just desert

This tenement so riven and lone.
Thus hourly troubles, hourly cares,
The feeble mortal frame outwears;
And sorrows on poor manhood's prime
Anticipate the work of time.
As disappointments day by day
Upon the spring of being prey,
And canker hope, and bring unrest,
And make this void which gnaws my breast,

It seems as if, the struggle o'er,
This world and I should strive no more.-
Worn by the war that will not cease,
'Tis the last little wound gives peace.
That peace the peace of death,-the grave
Its temple, where rejoicings are;
Or refuge, which alike the brave
Triumphant, and defcated, share;
Or endless solitude, to save

The exhausted victim from despair.
Oh! be it all to me, whose woes
Have felt small pause, have known no close;
Whose clouded course on this earth's scene
Few beams have cheer'd, faint, far between;
Whose force, the brunt of battle past,
Through nature's weakness yields at last;
And seldom aided, rarely blest,
Tastes fate in thee,-Void of the Breast.
23d July 1818.

EPITAPH.

You have resisted long!-mid all around,
You still are drest in verdure fresh and gay,
Beneath your arms the weary traveller

Yet halts, to shield him from the noontide ray.

And when in Autumn your brown leaves shall fall,

For you they droop, for you alone they fade, To call a progeny successive forth,

In spring to clothe you with delightful shade.

Fine image of Germania's ancient worth,

As once to past, and better days 'twas known, When her brave sons, supporting well her cause, Died to uphold their monarch and his throne!→→ Ah! what avails it to recall my grief,

That grief is known throughout my native
land!-

My country! once superior to the world,
Thou low art fallen-yet thy green oaks stand.
C. R―g.

"TRIFLES LIght as air."-Shakspeare.

Behold-of woman the true character.
You like a thing-it is enough for her
To like it not. In time, should you detest

That very thing-is't not what she likes best?-Terence.

Go follow the breeze that flies over the sea,
Go fasten the rainbow's fading dyes;
Go whistle the bird from yonder tree,

Go catch on the waves the sparkles that rise;
This to do thou shalt easier find,
Than to know the thoughts of a woman's mind.
They are swift as the breeze-as wavering too-
More transient (sometimes) than the rainbow's
hue.

Unmov'd, as the bird, by the charmer's call;
W. J. As bright as the sparkles, as solid withal:
And to think that the smiles of such Beings as
these

Stay, Traveller, nor pass in haste away,
Here rests a portion of thy kindred clay.
The hopes, the fears, the cares, the joys of life,
Like shades are past; e'en emulation's strife
Is o'er; Eternity's unbounded shore

Is touch'd, and chance, and Death, and Time's

Having thus mentioned the excellences of Mr. Keyse's work, it may be allowed to us to deduce therefrom the unquestionable fact, which yet seems a paradox to the generality of observers, that the utmost success in copying any appearance in nature does not constitute the glory of art. That grandeur of composition, which fills the mind of the beholder, such as we see in the still life of Rubens, Jordaens, and Snyders, proves that even these subjects may be elevated to a very superior rank; but even then, what are they when compared with the immortal expressions of human passions in the frame or countenance, the matchless creation of all that is essential in the forms of beauty and grace, the sublime in style and conception, which lifts humanity above itself, and mingles man with the higher influences, imaginative or divine? No more can the former be likened to the latter than a leaf to the noble oak, or a pond to the boundless ocean. Thus the works of Denner, which shew us every pore in the skin, and every distinct hair on the beard, are mere curiosities-but look at Vandyke, his individual portraits are also universal nature, and admiration is superadded to wonder. We need not, for further illustration of our position, enter into the still more elevated range where Michael Angelo, Raphael, Da Vinci, teach us to converse with intelligence above mortality, or Cor- From Körner.—Written when Germany was under regio and Guido render us familiar with all that is lovely. One remark connected with our subject may close it. Zeuxis painted grapes so justly (say his panegyrists of antiquity) that the birds flew to peck them; and Parrhasius, in his famous contest with that artist, drew a curtain so admirably as to deceive even Zeuxis, who asked him to remove it, that he might see the picture. But if we had no greater idea of the ages of Grecian perfection in the arts, if we had no better data whereon to found our opinion of their stupendous excellence, we must presume that Denner, Keyse, and a multitude of inferior painters, were equal to the immortals of Greece. Thank Heaven, the Apollo, Venus, Laocoon, Gladiator, Elgin Marbles, are preserved amid the wrecks of time, to shew us to what a pitch of sublimity the mind of man can soar,

no more.

THE OAKS.

the French yoke, 1811.

D.

Evening begins-Day's voices all are still—

Yet ruddier looks the Sun's departing glow;
Here underneath these sinuous boughs 1 sit,
And mournful thoughts my bosom overflow.
Faithful mementos of more ancient times!
In life's fair green your branches still are drest,
You are the same that former ages knew,

Splendid as then appears your leafy vest,
Time has destroy'd a thousand noble works,

And much of beauty early yields its breath,-
Now glimmering through your wreaths of glossy

leaves,

The sinking evening reddens into death.
As if neglectful of your fate alone,

You seem to say from every waving twig,
Time has not threatened yet your final hour;
'True greatness shall resist Death's mighty
power.'

Make of even philosophers-just what they
please.
H. E.

IMPROMPTU.

Coarse Specimen of a coarse Political Insect.—It is
not to be found in Buffon.

But look! what vile and winged reptile there
Comes black, and buzzing-tainting all the air?
What foul anomaly hath slipt from earth?
Too poor to dread--too sickening far for mirth-
Too much of insect not to shame that race,-
Without the power to soar, it yet hath sprung
And reptile quite enough to claim its place-
Above its native pyramid of dung:
Catching the slaver that the viper wastes,
It mingles venom with its natural tastes:
Loves, like its sire, the swamp-but breathes,
instead,

The loathsome odours of its mother's bed-
-Away with metaphor, &c. &c.

P.

ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM MEDITATING
ON THE PAST.

When every passion is at rest,

And sorrow-soothing calm pervades our breast,

We like to muse o'er former days,
And give to pleasures gone a retrospective gaze.
So on the margin of some flood

(When not one solitary breeze
Whispers along the forest trees)
The trav❜ler, bent in pensive mood
O'er the pure mirror, meditates
As in its depth he contemplates,

With eye where beams the quiet of his mind,
Each fairy scene the bank unfolds behind.
But soon, too soon, above the plain
The winds unwelcome rise again,
Break the pure crystal of the stream,

And in one moment sweep away
The watery landscape and the gazer's dream.
-So passions in our breast resume their sway.

MIDNIGHT SKETCH.

VENIZIANO.

F. S.

From these, he is reckoned a mere
scatter-brain, a marplot, a quiz, and is
often avoided. From these, he has got
himself into very serious scrapes, and
has lost his very best friends. Finally,
from these unwilling errors, he, who of
all men in the world, wishes most to
please and to do good, scarcely ever
opens his mouth without committing a
blunder, without giving offence.

Sir Michael is now fifty years of age; Hark-that sweet music-seems it not to rise yet is he as thoughtless as when first I From the blue sea-Some ocean Nymph has left Her crystal cave to breathe the dewy air, knew him, which is thirty years ago. As And braid her hair, and chant her dulcet strains. a proof of the confusion of his brain, he Now, gentle Moon, I pray thee, forgets daily to wind up his watch, sets When that dark cloud its envious shade with-it wrong afterwards, and is never in

draws,

To cast upon the wave one silver beam,
That I may view this creature of the element.
No occan Nymph is there-from yon gondola
The song is wafted. See the Minstrel too,
As graceful bending at his Lady's knee

(His white plume wavering lightly on the breeze)
He wakes his lute's romantic strains, and breathes
A strain of mingled hope-and fear-and love-
Charming the car of Night.-While his fair Saint

Shadows with floating veil those timid eyes,

That if revealed, would speak, than language

more.

CAROLINE.

SKETCH. THE PICTURE.

Oh what a sweet and animated grace

Plays round the mouth, and beams from those

blue eyes

Upon the cheek!-the rose's faintest blush,
So exquisitely tinged, appears to rise
With the embodied thought, that from the lip
Seems hovering; on the forehead's snowy white
The fair and clustering ringlets richly wave
In careless elegance. Just such a vision,
Sketched in the day-dream of the entisiast's eye
Might sport upon the sun-beam-wing its flight
From flower to flower, and breathe their soft
perfume,

And live upon their sweets. Where is it now?
This form of love-this being of earth's mold—
Gone-faded from the world-for ever gone!
Is it not sad to think, that ere that hour
Sorrow, perchance, had chased away those smiles,
Dulled the blue eye with tears-and from the
cheek

fore, he arrived two hours before he was expected. The score of servants in the hall stared at him on his arrival, and then looked at each other—as much as to say, "Is he mad what a queer genius this Sir Michael must be!" but the groom of the chambers, with his accustomed officious grin and low bow, said, mechanically, My Lord will be down in ten minutes," and then placed his chair, bowed, and handed him a newspaper. He had time to spell every word of it. After which he took up a novel and went through it.

At length a powdered servant opened the folding doors, and in walked the time any where. In his commonest Marchioness. Sir Michael had never concerns he is always under some mis- seen her before; but he was acquainted apprehension-some mistake; and, in with her sister Lady Barbara, to whom his conversation, he is sure to say or to the resemblance was striking. He rose do something out of time or out of place. up, and made his best bow; whilst the If he meet a widower, he will invariably Marchioness smiled on him with her inquire after his wife. If he meet a usual dignity and mildness, Cheered by lady who is divorced, he will (forgetting this into self-confidence, he thus began: the circumstance) beg his respects to I need not (bowing a second time) ask her husband. He not unfrequently asks your Ladyship to whom I have the unmarried ladies after their children; honour of speaking, seeing so strong a and people at variance, after their friend resemblance betwixt your daughter and so and so. The many who do not yourself. "Daughter, Sir, I have none; know and pity this absence, or rather you must mistake." Probably-Madam this confusion of his, consider that he-I may; I ask your ladyship's pardon." either intends to hoax them, or to insult them. The few who are acquainted with his infirmity, fear to ask him to their house, lest he say or do something offensive to their company.

I remember one day when he made an appointment with me to ride together to see a cottage on the banks of the Thames : we waited a considerable time; at last he rung the bell, and asked why the groom did not bring his horses to the door? when, all of a sudden, he recollected that he had lent them to a friend. Upon another occasion, he

Washed the young rose, and made the heavy kept dinner waiting two hours at a

heart

friend's house, and upon flying in a
passion at his coachman's neglect, he

was informed that he had sent his car

riage to bring home his little nephews
from school. He lost an aunt's favour
by outbidding her at a sale of china,
which he did, thinking that she had an
interest in keeping up the price of the
article; and a rich cousin scratched him
out of her will for speaking against

OF ENGLISH MANNERS. Methodism, he having entirely forgot
her religious persuasion.

No. III.

THE BLUNDERER.

At this moment, her elder sister, Lady Barbara, entered the room. That, that, that lady, Madam, is the person I meant; I took her for your ladyship's daughter. Lady Barbara, your most obedient! delighted to see you look so

well indeed the likeness'-(Marchioness)" is that of a younger to an elder sister: my sister Barbara is three years older than myself (drily); but, (with a smile of contempt) there is certainly a strong family likeness." "Oh! yes, beautiful! vastly like indeed! a strong-very strong family likeness, particularly about the eyes' (Lady Barbara squints dreadfully.) Here ensued a loud laugh of the two ladies. (Marchioness) "Do you think so, Sir Michael?" (Sir Michael perceiving the obliquity of the sister's eye) No, my lady, not at all, not a bit!'

(Marchioness) "I am quite mortified to think how long you have been kept waiting. My Lord is not yet come from the House; and I am much later than usual myself, having been detained at Philips and Robins's." I understand your Ladyship; yes, the two money lending attorneys; I know them well; hard dogs.' "Not at all, Sir Michael, I mean Yes, yes, (all con

But of all the unfortunate days of
blunders that ever occurred, that was
the chief on which I met him at dinner
the auctioneers."
more at the Marchioness's. Being in general
two hours too late, and resolving to
make amends for his usual failures, and
never having dined at the Marquis's be-

There cannot be a better man than Sir Michael Marall. No one obliging; nothing is kinder than his heart; yet no one on earth commits more unlucky mistakes in company.

fusion) the auctioneers I mean.'

(Marchioness) "I see that you have taken up that scurrilous novel, what

6

JOURNAL OF THE BELLES LETTRES.

think you of it?" Beautiful! full of wit! how it cuts up the gouty alderman pocketing the poor's rates! and the fat gambling Marchioness' (the latter was herself.) (Lady Barbara, wishing to relieve him) "Hem! did you look at those trifles in verse? They are very trifles, but written merely at leisure hours, mere bagatelles composed on the spur of the occasion. What think you of them?" Trifles, trifles indeed; mere bagatelles, as your Ladyship justly observes; quite below par; childish, very childish indeed; a catchpenny, no doubt.' Lady Barbara-"Childish as you say; very much below par; but no catchpenny, Sir; they are my composition, and were never sold, but printed for a few friends more indulgent and partial than Sir Michael Marall,”—(the Knight in an agony) 'Pardon me, my Lady; my honour

(The Marquis entered) "My dear Baronet, how are you? Why you are come in time to-day. (Turning to the Marchioness) This is my very oldest friend." Her ladyship gave a contemptuous look, which said, Je vous en fais mon compliment.

The company now began to arrive briskly; carriages chased carriages down the street; and the thunder of the street door was like a feu de joie. The Marquis now drew his friend aside, and said, "Michael, I am heartily glad to see you here. It is now three years since I met you at Newmarket. I have been to Naples and to Vienna since, and have got married. I am sorry that I had not an earlier opportunity of introducing you to the Marchioness; but you will find her at all times happy to see you."-Sir Michael, No doubt; I read it in her countenance. A very sweet woman! a most interesting person! and I perceive that she is as women wish to be who

love their lords. Ha, ha, ha! yes, pretty far gone; there's no fear of the title's being extinct; no, no; I hope soon to have the pleasure of wishng you joy on the change of her Ladyship's shape; very large indeed, but all in good time.-Marquis. "Sir Michael, I hope that her Ladyship's change of shape will not be so sudden as you expect; else must ill health be the cause. She is, I confess, rather corpulent, but is not so in the way which you imagine." Here he turned from him, and left him overwhelmed with shame, -they had been married only three

months.

Now entered Colonel O'Fagan, who, after making his obeisance all round, attacked the Baronet. "Sir Michael,

you played me a pretty trick to-day; | exclaimed he, fixing his eyes at the
you promised to bring me here in your same time on their father, who is re-
carriage, knowing as you do that one markably plain. What lovely creatures !*
of my horses is lame; and here you are repeated he, laying much emphasis on
before me, after keeping me waiting an the word lovely. Are all these children
hour and a half."— My dear Colonel, I yours?' "So her Ladyship says," re-
ask ten thousand pardons; but it is my plied the husband; and there was nothing
coachman's fault; he never put me in but blushes, smiles, surprise, and con-
mind of it as I bid him, for my memory fusion round the table.
is most treacherous; 'tis entirely his His last blunder was respecting
fault; but he is an Irishman, and one Walter Scott. Being asked by a lady
must pardon his bulls and blunders what he thought of that excellent poet,
sometimes; they belong to his country, whom he had seen in his tour through
and he cannot help them.-The Co- Scotland, he replied, "Charming, charm-
lonel, angrily, "Sir Michael you are ing; but 'tis a pity he is so lame." How
very polite; but here stands an Irish-do you mean? said Mrs. Freethink, a blue-
man before you (born in London to be stocking lady. Is it his poetry (con-
sure) who never made a bull in his tinued she) or his person, to which you
life, nor disappointed his friend." The allude? "His person"-(here he re-
poor Baronet was struck dumb, and sat collected the lameness of the Marquis's
silent until dinner was announced. brother! so, trying to recover himself, hé
recalled his words) "not in his person,
Madam, but in his poetry"-(reflecting
on the beauty of his lines, and the public
opinion, he recovered himself again by)
"I-I-mean in both-in neither-upon
my soul, I beg your pardon-I do not
know what I mean." Here a general
laugh could no longer be controlled, and
By
he was laughed at by all present. He
retired early; took French leave; went
home; passed a sleepless night; and
never returned to Doricourt House. The
Marchioness has given orders to her
German porter to say to the Baronet
always, "Madame n'est pas visible;"
and the whole family has dropped him.

Defeat and diffidence took such pos-
session of him at table, that he scarcely
dared to open his mouth. At last, the
Marquis, seeing his consternation, en-
deavoured to draw him out, by saying,
"Sir Michael, did you observe the sale of
our old school-fellow's estate? it fetched
eighty thousand pounds! should you
have thought it worth as much?"
no means, my dear Lord; and I was as
much surprised to see the crim. con.
business of Lady-(he was stopped by
a look of the Marquis's)-I mean the
death of old Lady-(another frown) -
the marriage of Captain Bracetight to a
mechanic's daughter.' The crim. con.
lady, whose publicity had been revived
after lying dormant twelve months, sat
opposite to him; the old lady's daughter,
in deep mourning, was on his right
hand; and Captain Bracetight's brother
was near the foot of the table!
"Each looked on the other, non: the silence

broke."

Sir Michael blushed and stammered, coughed, called for water, and hesitated His next neighbour on the left addressed him; and he stuttered so in reply, that the other, who had an impediment in his speech, almost suspected that he was turning him into ridicule.

At the desert, four beautiful children were ushered in, walking by files in rather a stage-effect way. They were the Marquis's nephews and nieces. His brother and sister were at table, and the children had been sent for as a recreation to them. Every one was eager to praise them, to extol their beauty, to enumerate their good qualities, &c. Sir Michael, after priming himself with a glass of hermitage " to bear his courage up," thought that he would be complimentary too: What lovely children!'

The

poor Baronet will at last be obliged to live the life of a recluse, as he will not be able to keep an acquaintance in the town; or perhaps he may end by some very serious consequences attending these habitual mistakes; for these unmeant insults are never forgiven, and, so weak are we, that many who can generously pass over and forget an injury, can never pardon the being degraded, or rendered ridiculous, whether it be intentionally or unintentionally—in joke, or in earnest.

THE HERMIT IN LONDON.

BIOGRAPHY.

M. G. LEWIS.

Matthew Gregory Lewis was born in the year 1773, his father being at that time deputy Secretary at War, which office he held for many years, and finally retired on a pension. His death happened within these few years, having through some family causes been separated from Mrs. L. event. for a considerable period preceding that M. G. Lewis, his son, received his education at Westminster School, and on coming of age was elected into Parliament

T