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avowed my admiration for his military conceptions. He smiled himself at the exactness of his foresight." The man who could, four months beforehand, predict the position and circumstances of a great battle in a foreign country, might have afforded their due share of praise to the instruments of his success. It was not so with Napoleon; he could spare no glory; he was always jealous of his generals and officers. To Kellerman, who by a moment of inspired bravery saved, or rather won, this very battle of Marengo, he could only say, "You made a tolerably good charge;" while he exagerated the praise of others, whom no one else was likely to distinguish.

AN AGREEABLE CONTRAST.

we boast.

If we

If we look into the female mind, we shall find virtues of a brighter hue, though not of the same colours of which We have greater depth of investigation; they, greater acuteness of perception. Our strength of mind is compensated by their liveliness. have more courage to brave danger, they have far more fortitude to meet distress. Our eloquence has more force; theirs has more persuasion. Their virtues are feminine, but as substantial and as useful as ours. You never hear women rail against the married state as unmarried men frequently do. Gentleness and forbearance are so sweetly tempered and mingled in their constitution, that they bear the hardships of their lot, however peculiarly severe it may be, without levelling a satire against such as are, by the generality of their sex, regarded as more fortunate.

FRIENDSHIP AND ESTEEM

Are derived from principles of reason and thought, and when once truly fixed in the mind, are lasting securities of an attachment to our persons and fortunes; participate with and refine all our joys; sympathize with and blunt the edge of every adverse occurrence. In vain should I endeavour to make an eulogium on true friendship in any measure equal to its sublime and exalted value. There is no good in life comparable to it; neither are any, or all of its other enjoyments worth desiring without it. It is the crown to all our felicities; the glory, and I think, the perfection of our natures. Life is a wilderness without a friend, and all its gilded scenes but barren and tasteless.

COMPLIMENTARY.

M. N.

An erratic poetical genius about town, was highly delighted the other day, by

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"I would mention," says a correspondent of the United Service Journal, in terms of strong condemnation, a practice that prevailed amongst the French last war. When any of our ships had chased a vessel of inferior force, and she could not escape, the Frenchmen not unfrequently fired a broadside into the unsuspecting craft, and immediately hauled down her colours as a token of surrender. This was done, as they styled it, 'pour l'honneur and I have known more men killed by du pavillon,' (for the honour of the flag); such a display of honour, than in many regular hard-fought battles. I must add, however, that towards the close of the war this practice had greatly subsided; for some of our ships, entertaining doubts as to the honour of the thing, did not suffer the smoke to clear away, so as to see the tricolour hauled down, and therefore promptly returned the salute."

Our French neighbours were often guilty of similar wanton sacrifices of human life; and their affected indifference disgusted our countrymen upon several occasions. After a severe skirmish one evening, during the war of the Peninsula, the officers of either army met and conversed together. English officers expressed their concern at the sacrifice of life, but the Frenchmen laughed at the affair. "O!" said they, "it is a mere bagatelle!—a little military promenade!"

A BITTER DRUG.

The

E. F.

An apothecary, who used to value himself on his skill in the nature of drugs, asserted in a company of physicians, that all bitter things were hot. "No,' said a gentleman present, "there is one of a very different quality, I am sure; and that is, a bitter cold day." H. W. JUN.

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THE EVILS OF A NAME. (For the Parterre).

Benevolent Reader!

I can no longer silently endure the unparalleled, unceasing, and at the same time unmerited accumulation of ills by which I am daily afflicted. I am, Sir, a complete wretch; stigmatized at my birth with the very name of misfortune, and hunted by her worrying pack through the world. The galley-slave, who daily plies the oar, exposed to the broiling heat of a mid-day sun,-the unhappy exile doomed to linger out the wretched remnant of his existence, amid the inhospitable snows of Siberia,-the sorrow-stricken hackney-coach horse, with his raw shoulder festering beneath the galling friction of a worn-out collar,the luckless cur, with the ruins of a tin kettle rattling at his tail!-all are objects of compassion-all miserable wretches! Yet, in comparison with mine, their lot is an elysium. They can contemplate a possible, if not a probable termination of their sorrows, and happier days in store; whilst I can only brood over an abyss of misery to come, with the privi

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lege of indulging in conjectures as to how far I may be able to penetrate its gloom. I am a wretch καθ' εξοχμν” -a very “ ταλαίνος” (as we say in the classics)-a sort of Niobe in breeches. My affliction can end only with my life: like the poisoned tunic of Hercules, it must sting me to my death. Ah, Sir, (pull out your vinegarette, and prepare yourself for the awful-heart-rending truth), I am-a " Smith,"--not a blacksmith, nor a whitesmith, nor a goldsmith; no, nor a silversmith, nor yet a locksmith, nor a Baron Smith, nor a Boatswain Smith, nor any other professional Smith. Alas! (would that Halley's comet had annihilated the globe, ere the hour arrived) I was born to the name of Smith. Smith is my paternal name. Oh! what atrocious crimes must my ancestor have perpetrated, to be visited with such dire hereditary punishment on his ill-starred posterity! But so it is. I doubt not that you have a "heart that can feel for another," and that I shall at least obtain your sympathy, and that of every tender-bosomed reader. "What's in a name?" say they-what! mighty Jove (that was formerly called Jupiter);

everything. What says Franklin on the subject, in his treatise on swimming? -nothing. What says Iago?" He who filches from me my good name," &c. O that some one would be kind enough to filch mine! assuredly would he "rob me of that which naught enriches him," and I should be well content to be left "poor indeed." Would I were of the other sex, for then could I change my name; but woe is me that the decrees of nature are immutable, and female I cannot be, "though heaven knows I am a wo-man." O for a prince of Denmark to say to me, "I'll change that name with you!" Grant me patience, ye ministers of affliction, whilst I endeavour to recount a tithe of the horrors that have conspired to make me the wretch that I am!

My father and mother (whose maiden name was Anne Ville) had long loved in secret; and despairing of the consent of her friends, they at length took flight, and had Hymeneal fetters forged at Gretna Green, whence they afterwards came to reside at Hammersmith, in which ominously named place, your wretched correspondent drew his first breath. I shall pass over my infant years by merely observing, that by unanimous consent of all parties, I was christened Gregory; my mother being fond of romantic names. In due time I was sent to school; there it was that my evil genius first began his persecution. I do not speak of the minor afflictions of school boys,--such as learning to eat butter scrapings with a relish, spread upon a farinaceous curricomb; having one's features re-modelled every Saturday night, by the application of extra-stout huckaback, and other little scholastic luxuries. There chanced to be at the same school, a boy of the same name with myself; whether that circumstance produced a kindred feeling between us, I know not; but from some cause or other, we became intimate cronies. He being a year older than myself, I regarded him as my pattern. Now, emphatically, he was a mischievous boy, i. e. (whether from original merit, I cannot say) he had got a bad name, and there were not wanting some, among the superannuated old pieces of mortality in the neighbourhood, who gravely pronounced, as well as their toothless gums would allow them, that the national consequences of such a circumstance in the canine race, would come to pass with him. I confess I could see nothing in his disposition but generosity

and kindness, with that natural degree of thoughtlessness with which warm hearts are generally accompanied. I perceived the injustice that was done him, and I loved him the more for it. Day after day convinced me, that he was more sinned against than sinning. One day he was accused of mixing vinegar with the milk, and flogged accordingly; it was afterwards proved, that the master's maiden-sister had been in the dairy, and inspected the milk pans. He again suffered on suspicion of having secreted a translation of Ovid, which was afterwards found under the mattress of the same lady's bed. Our intimacy all the while increasing,-it at length became imperative, on the score of justice and presumptive evidence, to include me in most of the charges brought against him, as a "particeps criminis." A window was broken,-O, the Smiths did it!--the bellows were perforated-the Smiths are the guilty party! the cat's tail was dipped in terpentine, and set a-fire. Who did it? O, the Smiths! Thus did things continue for some time, during which our mutual martyrdoms endeared us the more to each other. At length he left the school. What became of him afterwards, I do not know. Whether the predictions of the old sibyls were verified, it is impossible to say-so many of my unfortunate name have gone off in that way. It seems a family complaint: but he left me with "the heartache, and all the ills that Smiths are heirs to." What a change! no sympathising heart-no kind hand to collect all the slates sprinkled with cold water, to ease the smarting of my swollen hands. No kind friend to prepare the 'frigidum sedile"-a large marble slab, kept for that purpose, wherewith to soothe my weeping and wailing. I was alone, and responsible for all the mischiefs that might be perpetrated. After some years of constant apprehension and frequent suffering, I was removed to Cambridge, where I fully expected to be first Smith's Prizeman, and (as every fond father fancies his fool will be, if he can get over the pons asinorum) thither my Pythonian curse followed me with renewed persecution. Amongst the fresh men, there was (as I ascertained by the nomenclature of the tutor on the first day of lectures) one of the name of Sm

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I can't write it-that fatal name-his other name was George. No sooner did I ascertain the fact, than I determined to shun all intercourse with him. He-luckier owner of a luckless

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name, in the pure warmth of fellowfreshness, was equally desirous of becoming acquainted with me. Day after day, he made the most earnest advances, which I as studiously repelled. His inclination towards me, increased in an equal ratio with my aversion to him; and thus were we like the theory we were studying -two parallels, going to the greatest lengths, and never meeting. One evening as I was pacing the court, listening to the monotonous ding of the chapelbell, waiting for the time for evening service (a prejudice which fresh-men are more or less subject to; but which, however, they very soon get over), I was met by the Dean, who thus accosted me. Pray, Mr. Smith, why have you not your surplice on?" I replied that I was not aware of its being a surplice evening. "Then," said he, "perhaps you are not aware that I sent the chapelclerk to you with your name, as reader of the lesson for the ensuing week?" "R-r-reader?" stammered I (trembling at the awful announcement of a duty which I had often shuddered to think of, and as often determined to rehearse in my own rooms, whenever it should be my turn); "I-I-have n— not received any instruction, Sir, to--" "Well, Mr. Smith," continued the Dean, "I now give you full instruction to go and put your surplice on and prepare to read the lessons at the appointed time." Agitated with fear of the approaching public display of my talents-and pride of mounting the sacred desk in that sacred capacity for which I was destined, I ran to my rooms-stood a minute before my mirror to see that my white robe was duly adjusted, and with panting heart entered the chapel. The bell had not yet stopped-I seized the opportunity to find out the lessons previous to the commencement of the service, that I might not be embarrassed by any delay at the proper time. The last psalm was begun-I breathed quick and short-I hemm'd once or twice to clear my voice—the last verse was nearly finished-I trembled-the glory was given-I felt like an animated earthquake. With tottering knees, and eyes to the ground, I approached the steps leading to the desk-another moment would have seen me officiating in my sacred duty when lo! I experienced a shock sufficient to overthrow the equilibrium of a head more composed than mine. My fellow-collegian, Smith, had by mistake been served with the Dean's notice that had been destined for

me. He had, like me, approached with eyes rivetted on the marble floor; and the violent concussion of our heads alone apprised us of our proximity. The Dean coloured-the Sophs tittered-the bachelors laughed outright-I trembled with indignation at what I considered a premeditated insult. He retired in confusion, and I at length found myself reading about the curse of Cain, which recalled me to myself, and I was tolerably recovered by the time I began the second lesson, wherein I was feelingly eloquent on the subject of persecution for name's-sake. I returned to my seat muttering revenge on the author of my confusion; not even the admirable prayer that followed, could work the slightest inclination to forgive the offence. I buried my head in my sleeve, and till the conclusion of the service, remained wrapt in schemes of vengeance and Irish linen. Chapel over, I rushed to my rooms, bolted the door, and threw myself on my sofa in an agony of rage. I resolved to challenge him. Yes, much as I hate duelling, I must challenge him. Nothing else should ever make me take such a step; but myself-the collegethe sacred desk-all have been insulted. I ought to challenge him-I will.Down I sat, and penned a mortal defiance, demanding an immediate reply. Signed and sealed, I rushed with it to the post-office, covering my head with the first thing at hand, which the proctor afterwards informed me was my hat, and fined me accordingly; thence I proceeded to the gunsmiths, and took a pair of pistols upon trial, and finished the evening with a convivial friend, who entertained me with a bowl of Bishop, and a longer harangue upon the necessity of preserving the point of honour, and the invariable law of expulsion for duelling in the University. Whatever I felt, I pretended a defiance of the University, and contempt of the authorities, which the episcopal comforter assisted me greatly to maintain, to the prejudice of my equilibrium-I reeled home to my rooms, and flouncing into bed, dreamed of trigonometry and pistol-shooting, blended into a most perspicuous system, illustrated by examples; amongst which, I saw myself flying off at a tangent. Morning dawned — the chapel bell, which was still going, revived my bloodthirsty spirit by the recollection of last evening's encounter. Impatiently I waited for post-time. The door opened

I rushed to receive the letter-'t was only my bed-maker with my morning

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commons. Again it opened-I started forward-'t was the tailor, who had "taken the liberty of calling for orders." At length the porter appeared with a note. Thank heaven! I ejaculated, we shall fight-I shall be satisfied-my insulted honour will be appeased. I hastily perused the direction. Surely I've seen that hand before. No matter, 't is its last specimen. Eagerly I tore open the note. Judge of my chagrin. Was ever man made so palpable an ass of by himself. 'Twas-O patience, Job!—'t was my own note-a challenge from myself to myself! In my haste and agitation, I had directed to G- Smith, Esq. Coll., and here it was in that worthy's own hands! What I did I know not. The first thing that I recollected afterwards, was spitting out a mouthful of ink and coffee, the former of which I had by mistake used instead of the milk. I sat for some time roasting my knees, and ruminating on my folly. "After all, thought I, it might have been some mistake,' -"he might have"-At this moment a Gyp of the next staircase, brought me a note from George Smith, intreating pardon, and making every apology for the unpleasant rencontre, enclosing the Dean's order as his authority for acting as he had done, with a request of permission to call upon me. I was now cool-I saw my honour untainted-my hands unstained with blood. I hailed the moment as the dawn of future happiness. I wrote a hasty answer, begging him to come immediately. We exchanged forgivenesslaughed at the past, and pledged ourselves to friendship for the future-and I was happy.

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But alas! Sir, my evil destiny did not suffer me long to continue so. The arrows of death were aimed at my peace. George-my kind friend George-was attacked by scarlet fever, and died. I attended him to the last, and did not observe that few of my friends had called on me during the time-so constantly was I employed in nursing him. No sooner had this event taken place, than my brother came up in a post-chaise and four, demanding to see me, and was informed that I was not in my rooms. "What, buried too!" exclaimed he, "but I will have this explained:" so saying, he descended the stair-case, determined to see the master. He met me by chance in the cloister, and uttering a cry of horror, took to his heels; and it was not until I had chased him

up the chapel-stairs, and pummelled him considerably, that I convinced him that I was something more substantial than air. He explained the object of his visit. "That infernal name, G. Smith of Coll." had gone the round of the public journals. My friends had employed their dress-makers to make up their mourning with all expedition. "They mourned me dead in my father's halls. My mother had shed her tributary torrent of tears, and my little brothers had settled their various disputes concerning the distribution of my fishingtackle, skates, rabbits, and other small possessions that I had left behind me. S' death, Sir, this was too bad; to have one wishing you dead is bad enough; but to be actually lied out of one's existence, is a little too much to bear. In a fit of rage I flew to the buttery, drank a sizing of ale, and erased my accursed name from the boards, leaving my brother to settle my affairs as he pleased.

I

'T were needless to enter into a detail of all the annoyances to which I have since been subjected. I cannot walk in the street, without looking round every ten yards to see who is calling me. I never look into an undertaker's window, but my eyes are greeted with my own name, engraved on a neat coffin-lidsurmounted by an ugly-looking_angel with the last trump, accompanied by a grave announcement that I died a day or two before. I am not afraid of death -heaven knows I have no reason to be; but nobody likes a perpetual "memento mori." If I look at a placard, it 's ten to one that I see a reward of one hundred pounds for my own apprehension. have been thrice taken up for forgery, and all because my name is Smith! I am constantly opening other peoples' letters by mistake, for which I have to make suitable apologies, and bear the expense of postage; for if I accompany those apologies by any intimation that I have paid for the letters, the answer is always the same, "O! don't mention it, Sir, I beg." I threw myself out of the window, on the 14th of February last, through fright at the arrival of a packet of valentines, that would have covered my dining-table, and made me a bankrupt, had I taken them in. I have received numerous letters of condolence on the execution of three or four brothers at the Old Bailey. I can get no credit, for every one takes me for "the Swindler," and my name is constantly in the Gazette. My wife has more than once

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