that her outward appearance was rather more attractive. Needle-work, in bending her head down continually towards her knees, has rather made her round-shouldered, and I wish to remedy that if possible."

"Ah, ah! my better half; I see you are relaxing the severity of your former principles; it is a dancing-master, I find, you wish to give her. When these teachers of the graces have began, one will call in another, and there will be no end to them."

"Well, to morrow she shall have thinner shoes and a tunic."

"Softly, Sir, that is not all; she must have a pair of silk stockings and pantaloous, decency requires it; besides, look at her shoulders! they are unpliant, without grace, and of a rounduess,-to repair this we must have a corset from the famous corset maker. will take off that head-dress, which disfigures my pupil; you must have her hair dressed a la Titus, or a-la-Cleopatra, which ever you please, but you must know, that with a round

You

"But, my dear friend, I do not ask for a dancing-master to teach my daughter to dance,ared cap I never cau place Mademoiselle in

but to instruct her in the manner of presenting any thing, in saluting any one; and, in short, to give to the form of my girl its natural grace."

"My dear wife, provided you stop at this master, I do not see any impropriety in granting your request; I say more, if we are to have a master, I should not be sorry to see her dance and figure away at a ball like another, provided, I repeat, that the learning to dance shall not bring on drawing, music, and so on."

"Ah! my dear friend, I appreciate but too much the goodness you have shewn me; never will I abuse it: I assure you my daughter shall not neglect her needle-work, nor the art of|| getting up linen, or even to look after the cooking."

"Well, well, say no more; this very evening I will bring a Mr. Flicflae, who lodges in the street of St. Denis, but whose renown extends as far as the Chaussée d'Antin."

Mr. Flicflae came that evening: he looked at the young lady, examined her from head to foot, and judged her to be of a form to make a most exquisite daucer.

"Well, Mr. Flicflae, since you find her so disposed, you may give her her first lesson immediately."

"Very well," answered Flicflae;

"but

any attitude: then when we have had a few lessons I shall want castanets, garlands of flowers, a tambour de basque, and a shawl."

"A cachemire shawl, perhaps?" said the father, who could no longer keep silence.

"Yes, cachemire," replied the dancer, with the utmost sangfroid, "that would not be amiss; cashemire is so soft, so supple, it forms the antique folds to a prodigy. Then I must also request that we may have a little saloon entirely for ourselves; you must be sensible that I cannot give a lesson in this apartment, which is taken up with so much houshold furniture, and where there is passing and repassing continually. As to the price of my lessons, I bave lowered my terms, they are very moderate, ten livres by the hour."

"Well, my dear wife !"-"Ah! my friend, his event is fortunate; it has shown me bow much I was in the wrong. How, then, to learn dancing, is it requisite to dissipate the half of our savings in thin shoes, in gowns, in corsets, and in shawls? This single talent alone would consume my daughter's little fortune, and dethe young lady, your daughter, is not in a state stroy the case and comfort of her honest par to receive the most simple rudiments: I can rents. Ah! give me no more graces, no more judge nothing of her foot in the enormous elegance, no more Flicflaes; let my daughter shoe she wears; she has seven or eight petti-stop at this first lesson he has given her, and coats on, one above another; I cannot bend her body under this heavy attire; she must have a tunic, and thiu dancing shoes."

which will be of as much advantage to us as to herself."

ANECDOTES.

THEIR PRESENT MAJESTIES.-Some years | cursion there, he took a morning ride with the ago the King became enamoured with the Queen in a phaeton, accompanied by a coach, beauties of Windsor Castle, and had it repair-containing some of the Maids of Honour, and ed and refitted, in preference to Kew, his for- two or three servants on horseback. Curiosity aner country residence. During his first ex- to see the country, joined to a pleasant mory

Life Guards, and a nobleman of great_rank." The King expressed the greatest surprize at this information, assuring the Ambassador, that had he not been informed of it from so respectable a man, he should have supposed him to be one of the mountebanks at some country fair; at the same time, he requested the Ambassador, in order to prevent future mistakes, never to introduce effeminate figures or coxcombs at his Levee.

MADAME DU DEFFAND, AND PRESIDENT HENAULT.-These two celebrated persons were both complaining one day of the continual interruptions which they met with from the society in which they lived. "How happy would one be," said the Marquise, "to have a whole day to ourselves!" They agreed to try whether this was not possible; and at last found a small apartment in the Thuilleries, belonging to a friend, which was unoccupied, and where they proposed to meet.They arrived, accordingly, in separate conveyances, about eleven in the forenoon; appointed their carriages to return at twelve at night; and I ordered dinner from a trateur. The morning was passed entirely to the satisfaction of both, in effusions of love and friendship. "If every day," said the one to the other, "were to be like this, life would be too short." Dinner came; and before four o'clock, sentiment had given place to gaiety and wit. About six, the Marquise looked at the clock. "They play Athalie to-night," said she, "and the new actress is to make her appearance." "I confess," said the President, "that, if I were not here, I should regret not seeing her." "Take care, President," said the Marquise; "what you say is really an expression of regret; if you had been as happy as you profess to be, you would not have thought of the possibility of being at the representation of Athalie." The President vindicated himself; and ended with saying, "is it for you to complain, when you was the first to look at the clock, and to remark that Athalie was acted to-night? There is no clock for those who are happy." The dispute grew warm, they became more and Juore out of humour with one another; and, by seven, they wished most earnestly to separate. That was impossible. "Ah!" said the Marquise, "I cannot stay here till twelve o'clock:-five hours longer! what a punishment!" There was a screen in the room; the Marquise seated herself behind it, and left the rest of the room to the President. The President, picqued at this, takes a pen, writes a note full of reproaches, and throws it over the screen. The Marquise picks up the note, goes in search of pen, ink, and paper, and writes an

answer in the sharpest terms. At last, twelve, o'clock arrived; and each hurried off separately, fully resolved never to try the same experiment again.

SIR C. B, BART.-This gentleman who, devoted his youth in the naval service of his country, after many years of meritorious exertion, obtained the rank of Lieutenant, and was much esteemed by his brother officers. At the end of the last war he retired on his half-pay, with no other maintenance for a beloved wife and two children, nor any other hope than the generosity of a rich but parsimonious old uncle, by trade a maker of vinegar, whose disposition was as sour as his commodity, and who, by the dint of penurious economy, had scraped together a large fortune. Generosity was a word he scarcely knew the meaning of, and nothing but his death would promise to his, relations any benefit from his inordinate wealth. This gallant Lieutenant saw his own family increased by two additional children, and his distress doubled, without any proximate view of relief. He was, therefore, obliged to court the shade of obscurity, and retire with his family to a garret in the Borough of Southwark, where, some few years, he contrived to sustain a burthensome existence. At length his proud spirit yielding to the anguish of conjugal and parental feeling, and the pressure of some smail debts he was obliged to contract, in order to avert the horrors of famine, he wrote to his uncle, stating his distresses, and requesting the loan of ten pounds to keep him from a gaol. But his uncle, by no means disposed to countenance the extravagance of a young officer, who could not maintain himself, a wife, and four children, upon the ample establishment of three and sixpence per day, wrote him an admonitory answer, "That he himself had always made it a point to live. within his income; that he could not think of supporting any man's extravagance who would not do the same; adding, that if he gave him ten pounds now, it would only serve to encourage the contraction of new debts, and that in a little time he would be just as bad as ever : and concluded by the very friendly advice, “to live within his means, and he never would want money." Driven almost to despair by this unfeeling conduct, and a spirit too proud and independent to seek aid from, or even make known his distresses to any of his brother officers, many of whom would have most || generously assisted him, an unexpected event shortly after took place, which gave a fortunate change to his affairs. His uncle dying suddenly by a paralytic stroke, prevented his making a will; and Lieut. B—— being big

next heir, found himself suddenly whirled from the depth of wretchedness to a fortune of three hundred thousand pounds, a valuable stock in trade, and book debts some thousands. He now lives enjoying a Baronetage with a fortune of twenty-six thousand a year./

thirty years, has taken a drachm, or sixty grains a day. He would sometimes go to the shop of a Turkish Jew, and call for a drachm of sublimate, which he mixed in a glass of water, and drank it up immediately. The first time, the apothecary was very much alarmed for fear he should be charged with poisoning the Turk; but he was struck with astonishment when he saw the same man again, on the next day, who called for another doseLord Elgin, Mr. Smith, and several gentlemen now in England, have met this extraordinary man, and have heard him say, that the sensation he experienced after he had drank that

MITHRIDATES THE SECOND.-There is a very extraordinary man now living in Constantinople, who is generally known under the name of "Suliman, the eater of sublimate " He is a hundred and six years of age, and bas seen the following successions of Sultans:Achmet III. Osman, Mahmond, Mustapha III. Abdal Hamed, Selim III. and the present Sovereign. This man, when young, accustomed || extremely active poison, was the most delicihimself, as the Turks do, to swallow opium; ous he ever enjoyed. Such is the force of habit! but having taken by degrees a large quantity It is generally thought, that since the days of without producing the desired effect, he adopt- || Mithridates, no one had ever made coustant ed the use of sublimate, and, for upwards of use of such a substance.

LETTERS ON MYTHOLOGY.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF C. A. DEMOUSTIER.

LETTER VI.

(Continued from Page 136.)

one

It is easier to keep guard over a treasure, or a Hydra, than over a young beauty. Cybele knew this much better than do; for she was a mother. Her daughter Ceres was charming and never quitted her; nevertheless the wary mamma, lacing her bodice morning, perceived an increase in her daughter's shape which quite disconcerted her. You may suppose what followed! All covered with shame, Ceres ran to conceal herself in a cavern where she gave birth to Proserpine. This amiable girl made the happiness of her mamma, but she never had the honour of knowing Monsieur her father. Some say he was Neptune; others, that he was Jupiter. However that may be, Ceres wept her virgin honour a long time: her sadness consumed her, and made her die by inches. If this evil always conducted young ladies to the tomb, how many worthy families would be continually in mourning!

Luckily for Ceres, the God Pan discovered her retreat. Touched with the deplorable state to which she was reduced, he told Jupiter of it, who sent her his physician. The learned Doctor gave his patient a dose of poppy-juice, which threw her into a sweet sleep. Sleep restored peace to her senses, and health followed from that day.

Meanwhile every thing languished over the face of the earth. The wheat-ears perished in No. XVIII. Vol. III.-N. S.

her breast; and men with loud cries invoked the return of the Goddess of Agriculture. She re-appeared in fine, and was triumphautly re ceived. Her eyes were yet full of a sweet languor; her cheek was yet pale; Proserpine, the object of her tenderness, and fruit of her sorrow, still hung at her bosom. How dearly had Ceres paid for the glory of being beautiful! Alas! are beautiful eyes always formed for the purpose of shedding tears?

Feasts were now instituted in honour of Ceres; in these feasts, the priests and the people went in procession into the midst of the fields, where they immolated a hog, because this animal, by grubbing up the earth, prevents the corn-roots from striking. This sacrifice was made at the expence of a religious society.

The brotherhood were sworn to silence, and wore the same habit continually; even till it fell into tatters. It is said that virgins were admitted into this society in the city of Eleusis.

In process of time

the brotherhood erected

a temple to Ceres. She was represented by
them with her brows encircled by flowers and
wheat-ears, her bosom full of milk. She had
an owl by her side, and a lizard at her feet:
in one hand she held a bunch of wheat and
poppies, in remembrance of the opium she had
taken; and in the other the torch with which
she had sought Proserpine.

This young Goddess inherited all her
Bb

194

-mother's graces: often had the mirror of the
cristal fountains taught her that she was
beautiful. Proserpine loved flowers: one day
while she gathered them in the valley of Enua,
Pluto King of Hell, came to lose in its verdant
His
region his depression and mortification.
sable majesty, had indeed sufficient cause for
this sadness; every Goddess had rejected his
addresses. They all found his complexion
too dark, besides he smelt of smoke, and then
his palace was too gloomy; and a pretty
woman naturally prefers reigning over two or
three living lovers to the empire of the dead.
Pluto thought of all this when he perceived
Proserpine in the midst of her companions.
Suddenly fired by her charms, he seized her,
carried her off, opened the earth with a blow
of his trident, and re-entered with his fair
prize into the states of Hell.

Imagine the horror and apprehensions of Ceres! This desolate mother sought her daughter all over the earth. During her painful pilgrimage, she was received by Celeus, King of Eleusis, and taught agriculture to Triptolemus, son of that prince. The Eleusinians erected a temple to the Goddess; but she quitted their country to run over the rest of the world. It was then that sinking with fatigue and exhausted with hunger, she was too happy to obtain from the charity of a good rustic, a little butter-milk. Hunger seasons the commonest food: Ceres found this delicious. A young giglet, called Stellia, burst into a rude fit of laughter at her voracity; the offended Goddess threw the remaining milk at her, and changed her into a lizard.

At length, after a thousand vain researches, the mother of Proserpine, lighted a torch at the flame of Mount Etna, determining to seek her daughter even in the bosom of the earth. Arethusa met Ceres in her subterranean tour; she called to her, and addressed her thus:"Be comforted! I know the cause of your anxiety: I am Arethuse, formerly a nymph belonging to the train of Diana. I accompanied her to the banks of the river Alpheus: the God saw and loved me. I was young and tender; could I then remain insensible? Alpheus pursued me; alas! I flew from him as lovers fly from what they love. But the Gods who preside over chastity changed me into a fountain to remove me from his fond grasp. What then became of him? All wild with despair, he rushed back to his profound caverns: yet Love directed the course of our separate streams, and pitying my sad lover, allowed our waves to meet and mingle. While hastening

to unite myself with my dear Alpheus, I saw

Proserpine pass in the arms of Pluto. Your daughter is now in his dismal palace."

At these words Ceres flew to Olympus, accused Pluto, and demanded her child of the master of the Gods. Jupiter consented to have her restored, provided it should be found that she had not eaten any thing in Hell.—Unluckily, Ascalaphus, Pluto's valet de chambre, deponed that he had seen Proserpine suck a pomegranate. Ceres changed the informer into an owl; but all the favour she obtained was that of possessing her daughter during six months of the year. The other six were granted to Pluto.—Adieu.

LETTER VII.

We are now goingto discuss the Goddess of Chastity.-One day returning from the chase, Diana threw herself down upon the verdant border of a stream t ́t flowed near the city of Athens. She had lain aside her bow and quiver, and was occupied in braiding her long hair, when she perceived a young girl who was singing as she gathered flowers. The fair damsel sang in praise of Love. Diana approached her, looked at her, and sighed. "Who are you?” asked the young Athenian.-"I will soon tell you. But answer me, my child, for what use do you destine these flowers ?"-" To decorate a basket for an offering to Diana. She has a temple in Athens, where we take the vow of perpetual virginity."" Oh, my child! never make that vow: to keep it inviolate, you should be Diana herself."-" I am going, even now, to propitiate this Goddess, by attaching my zone to the walls of her temple, and presenting her these flowers.""I accept them; replied Diana. You interest me, and I will speak frankly to you. Listen to me.

"I am Diana, daughter of Jupiter and Latona. Do not be afraid; Goddesses love mortals who resemble them. I was born only one instant before Apollo, and directly afterwards I assisted my mother to bring him into the world. Witness of the agony she endured, I swore from that hour eternal enmity with Love. I was persuaded that his pleasures could not recompense us for his pains. My child! time and experience have since changed my opinion. But then I was ignorant of the sacred joy of seeing one self confounded in a new being, with that of our lover; of caressing and discovering our different lineaments, touchingly blended; of finding again the smiles and the embraces of a cherished husband in the innocent pledge of our mutual tenderness!

"The chase then became my sole passion.