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The stranger kindled into enthusiasm, and into eloquence. “What,” said he, " what is so iniquitous as these pre-ordinations of our fate against our will? We are born to a certain line—we are accomplished to that line alone-our duty is confined to a certain routine of execution—we are mewed up like owls in a small conventual circle of gloom-we are paid sufficient for what we perform--we have, therefore, no incentive to our enterprise and ambition—the greater part of our life is a blank to us. If we stir abroad into more wide and common intercourse with mankind, we are perpetually reminded that a stamp is upon us—we cannot consult our inclinations-we must not marry as we please—we can never escape from ourselves" “And,” pursued the philosopher, who liked to talk himself as well as to listen ; “and while so unpleasant to yourself are these dangerous and hateful hereditary distinctions, what mischiefs do they not produce to your fellow-creatures condemned to poverty, they are condemned to the consequences of poverty ;-ignorance and sin -they offend, and you hang them !” “ Hang-them !” “ Ah!" the benevolent stranger covered his face with his hands.

4. What philanthropic tenderness !” said the philosopher; - Pardon me, Sir, I must introduce myself: you may ha heard of me; I am the author Slatterenobigioso ; you, so enlightened, are probably an author yourself; perhaps you have turned your attention to Morals, and are acquainted with the true nature of crime.” “Ay,” groaned the stranger, “ I am acquainted with its end.” “Or perhaps biography, the great teacher of practical truths, made you first learn to think. For my part I amuse myself even now by taking the lives of some of the most remarkable of my contemporaries.'

• Indeed!” said the stranger with inexpressible dignity, and then putting on his hat with an air, he stalked out of the room, saying over his left shoulder in a voice of conscious pridem" And I, Sir, have done the same."

CHAPTER VIII.-THE JEALOUSY.

"She wrongs his thoughts.”—THE CORSAIR.

“Ah, miss !” said the tailor, as he passed through the country town on a high trotting horse, and met the unfortunate Laura walking homeward with - The Sorrows of Werter" in her hand : “ Ah! so the spark has carried himself off.

How could you be so taken in? What! marry a

"I know what you would say,” interrupted Laura haughtily, “and I beg you will be silent. You knew him, then.” “ Ay, by sight. I have seen him on trying occasions, sure enough. But you will meet him no more, I guess : he is wanted in town to-morrow morning.” " Gracious

Heaven! for what?" said Laura, thinking the Marquis de Tête Perdu was again apprehended for not having been hanged sufficiently. “ Why-be prepared--Miss, he is going to tie the noose." “Wretch! perfidious wretch !” shrieked Laura, as her fear now changed into jealousy; “ do you mean that he is going to lead another to the altar ?” “ Exactly, Miss!" said the tailor, and off went his high trotting horse.

CHAPTER IX.THE DENOUEMENT.

" It is not for myself I do these things, but for my country."

PLUTARCH'S APHORISM WHEN IN PLACE.

Common Aphorism among all Placemen.

“ Poor cousin Jack!" said the lawyer, as he was eating his breakfast; “ he has been playing very naughty pranks, to be sure: but he is our cousin, nevertheless. We should pay him all possible respect. Come, girl, get on your bonnet ; you may as well come with me: it will divert your mind." “ La ! papa: but, to be sure, there will be a great crowd. It is a most affecting sight ; and, after all, I think adrive may do me good.” “ That's right, girl," said the father: and they were soon on the road to the capital. They arrived at an open space, but filled with spectators'; they beheld a platform, raised above the heads of the people; Laura grew very faint with anxiety and heat. She heard the spectators talking to each other. " They say,” observed one, " that it is with great difficulty he was persuaded to the calling-it has been four hundred years in the family-he took himself away, but came back when he heard the fees were augmented-you know he gets all the clothes.” “ There's poor cousin Jack," quoth the Attorney : “ how pale he is !!!

Laura looked. To the side of cousin Jack, who was about to be hanged, moved a well-known figure. “ The Marquis de Tête Perdu !' cried the Lawyer ag hast? “My lover! my lover!” screamed Laura. “My eye! that's the Hereditary Hangman!” said a bystander with open mouth. “Hereditary Hangman!” said an English Lord, who was by chance an attendant at the spectacle, 6 Hereditary Hangman !_what a burlesque on the Peerage!” Is it a burlesque truly, or is the one about as wise as the other ?

New Monthly Mag.

THE FRIARS OF DIJON.

WHEN honest men confess'd their sins,

And paid the church genteellyIn Burgundy two Capuching

Lived jovially and freely.

They march'd about from place to place,

With shrift and dispensation ;
And mended broken consciences,

Soul-tinkers by vocation.

One friar was father Boniface,

From psalms to sentimental airs,
And he ne'er knew disquiet,

From these to glees and catches.
Save when condemn'd to saying grace
O'er mortifying diet.

At last, they would have danced outright,

Like a baboon and tame bear, The other was lean Dominick,

If Jacquez had not drank, Good night Whose slender form, and sallow,

And showp them to their chamber. Would scarce have made a candlewick For Boniface's tallow.

The room was high, the host's was nigh

Had wife or he suspicion, Albeit, he tippled like a fish,

That monks would make a raree-show Though not the same potation ;

Of chinks in the partition ?
And mortal man ne'er clear'd a dish
With nimbler mastication.

Or that two confessors would come,

Their holy ears out-reaching
Those saints without the shirts arrived, To conversations as hum-drum
One evening late, to pigeon

Almost as their own preaching ?
A country pair for alms, that lived
About a league from Dijon-

Shame on you, Friars of orders gray,

That peeping knelt, and wriggling, Whose supper-pot was set to boil,

And when ye should have gone to pray, On faggots briskly crackling :

Betook yourselves to giggling!
The friars enter'd, with a smile
To Jacquez and to Jacqueline.

But every deed will have its meed:

And hark! what information
They bow'd and bless'd the dame, and then Has made the sinners, in a trice,
In pious terms besought her,

Look black with consternation,
To give two holy-minded men
A meal of bread and water,

The farmer on a hone prepares

His knife, a long and keen one ;
For water and a crust they crave,

And talks of killing both the freres,
Those mouths that even on Lent days The fat one, and the lean one.
Scarce knew the taste of water, save
When watering for dain ties.

To-morrow by the break of day,

He orders too, saltpetre,
Quoth Jacquez, "That were sorry cheer And pickling-tubs ; but, reader, stay,
For men fatigued and dusty;

Our host was no man-eater.
And if ye supp'd on crusts, I fear,
You'd go to bed but crusty."

The priests knew not that country-folk

Give pigs the name of friars ; So forth he brought a flask of rich

But startled, witless of the joke,
Wine, fit to feast Silenus,

As if they trod on briars.
And viands, at the sight of which
They laugh'd like two hyænas.

Meanwhile, as they perspired with dread,

The hair of either craven Alternately, the host and spouse

Had stood erect upon his head,
Regaled each pardon-gauger,

But that their heads were shaven,
Who told them tales right inarvellous,
And lied as for a wager-

What, pickle and smoke us limb by limb!

God curse him and his lardners ! 'Bout churches like baloons convey'd

St Peter will bedevil him,
With aeronautic martyrs ;

If he saltpetres Friars.
And wells made warm, where holy maid
Had only dipp'd her garters.

Yet, Dominick, to die the bare

Idea shakes one oddly ;And if their hearers gaped, I guess,

Yes, Boniface, 'tis time we were With jaws three inch asunder,

Beginning to be godly. 'Twas partly out of weariness, And partly out of wonder.

Would that, for absolution's sake

Of all our sins and cogging, Then striking up duets, the freres

We had a whip, to give and take Went on to sing in matches,

A last kind mutual flogging.

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Men left their beds, and night-capp'd heads Explaining lost but little breath :-
Popp'd out from every casement;

Here ended all the matter ;
The cals ran frighten'd on the leads; So God save Queen Elizabeth,
Dijon was all amazement.

And long live Henry Quatre !

Doors bang'd, dogs bay'd, and boys hurra'd,

Throats gaped aghast in bare rows, Till soundest-sleeping watchmen woke,

And even at last the mayor rose

The gens-d'armes at the story broke

Into horse-fits of laughter,
And, as if they had known the joke,

Their horses neigh'd thereafter.

Who charging him before police,

Demands of Dominick surly,
What earthquake, fire, or breach of peace

Made all this hurly-burly ?

Lean Dominick, methinks, his chaps

Yawn'd weary, worn, and moody;
So may my readers too, perhaps,

And thus I wish 'em Good day.

HOMAS CAMPELL

" ARE you returning immediately to Worcester ?” said Lady Leslie, a widow residing near that city, to a young officer who was paying her a morning visit." I am; can I do any thing for you there”-“ Yes; you can do me a great kindness. My confidential servant, Baynes, is gone out for the day and night; and I do not like to trust my new footman, of whom I know nothing, to put

this letter in the post-office, as it contains a fifty-pound note.”_" In* deed! that is a large sum to trust to the post.”_" Yes; but I am told it ps is the safest conveyance. It is, however, quite necessary that a person .. whom I can trust should put the letter in the box.”_" Certainly,"

replied Captain Freeland. Then, with an air that showed he considered himself as a person to be trusted, he deposited the letter in safety in his pocket-book, and took leave; promising he would return to dinner the next day, which was Saturday.

On his road, Freeland met some of his brother-officers, who were going to pass the day and night at Great Malvern; and as they earnestly pressed him to accompany them, he wholly forgot the letter intrusted to his care; and, having despatched his servant to Worcester, for his sac-de nuitt and other things, he turned back with his companions, and passed the rest of the day in that sauntering but amusing idleness, that dolce far niente,f which may be reckoned comparatively virtuous, if it leads to the forgetfulness of little duties only, and is not attended by the positive infringement of greater ones. But, in not putting this important letter into the post, as he had engaged to do, Freeland violated a real duty; and he might have put it in at Malvern, had not the rencounter with his brother-officers banished the commission given him entirely from his thoughts. Nor did he remember it, till, as they rode through the village the next morning, on their way to Worcester, they met Lady Leslie walking in the road.

At sight of her, Freeland recollected, with shame and confusion, that he had not fulfilled the charge committed to him; and fain would he have passed her unobserved; for, as she was a woman of high fashion, great talents, and some severity, he was afraid that his negligence, if avowed, would not only cause him to forfeit her favour, but expose him to her powerful sarcasm.

To avoid being recognized was, however, impossible; and as soon as Lady Leslie saw him, she exclaimed, “ Oh! Captain Freeland, I am so glad to see you! I have been quite uneasy concerning my letter since I gave it to your care; for it was of such consequence !

* From “ Iustrations of Lying in all its branches. By Amelia Opie." 1925. 2 vols, 12mo. + Night bag. Sweet doing nothing.

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