morning, walking towards the ferry, but apprehending he had missed his way, he asked a man whom he met to conduct him. The other answered, with much cordiality, "That I will do with all my heart, my lord. Does not your lordship remember me? My name's John -; I have had the honour to be before your lordship for stealing sheep!" "Oh, John! I remember you well; and how is your wife? She had the honour to be before me too, for receiving them, knowing them to be stolen." "At your lordship's service. We were very lucky; we got off for want of evidence; and I am still going on in the butcher trade.” "Then," replied his lordship, we may have the honour of meeting again."

THE BOXING ADMIRAL.

Several years since, the bargemen of his majesty's ship Berwick, then at Spithead, quarrelled with the bargemen of the ship which Admiral Milbank then commanded as captain, and the latter were heartily drubbed, to the no small mortification of the admiral, who was in his younger days exceedingly athletic, and somewhat addicted to boxing. A few days after, the admiral called the boat's crew together, upbraided them for a set of cowards, dressed himself in a common jacket and trowsers, and observing the Berwick's barge rowing ashore to Portsmouth beach, ordered his own to be immediately manned; and thus disguised, took an oar as one of the crew. The cockswain, as particularly directed, run the head of his barge against the Berwick's barge quarter; in consequence of which a broadside of oaths was given and returned, which produced a challenge to fight with more substantial weapons. The admiral, as champion of his crew, beat the whole of the other barge's crew, one after the other, (eleven in number,) to the great joy and admiration of his sailors, and then making himself known, went and visited his friends in Portsmouth, as if nothing had happened.

THE SORCERER ACQUITTED.

A fortune-teller was arrested at his theatre of divination, al fresco, at the corner of the Rue de Bussy in Paris, and carried before the tribunal of correctional police. "You know to read the future?" said the president, a man of great wit, but too fond of a joke for a magistrate. "I do, M. le President," replied the sorcerer. "In this

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case," said the judge, "you know the judgment we intend to pronounce.' "Certainly." "Well, what will happen to you?" Nothing." "You are sure of it?" "You will acquit me." "Acquit you!" "There is no doubt of it." "Why?" Because, sir, if it had been your intention to condemn me, you would not have added irony to misfortune." The president, disconcerted, turned to his brother judges, and the sorcerer was acquitted.

HOW TO GET A PLACE.

A person, who by misfortunes in life had been reduced to very low circumstances, and being at a loss to know how to provide for his family, took it into his head at last to wait on a certain lord to ask for a place. The usual answer of "I have no vacancy" was given him: however, this did not prevent him from calling and waiting, and calling and waiting again and again. When his lordship sent for him up, and with anger asked him what could induce him to behave in so impudent and unprecedented a manner, he answered, "My lord, that I am impudent I do not deny, for which I hope my necessity will plead my excuse; but that I am so without a precedent I do deny, as this will prove; he then put the following into his lordship's hands:-" As prince Maurice was once at dinner, in came a huge mastiff, and took sanctuary under the table. The page beat him out of the room; but for all that, Lion came punctually at the same hour next day, and so continued his visits, though they still continued the same treatment to him. At last the prince ordered them to beat him no more, and made much of him. From this time the mastiff

commenced a perfect courtier, followed the prince wherever he went, lay all night at his chamber-door, ran by his coach-side as duly as one of his lacqueys; in short, he so insinuated himself into his master's favour, that, when he died, he settled a pension upon him for life." This pleased his lordship so much, that in a day or two after he gave the supplicator a very comfortable birth in the Customs.

RODOLPH THE ROBBER, A TALE.

BY MR. DE WILD.

"Deeds eternity cannot annul." Lord Byron.

MARK yonder cottage in the glen,
Secluded from the haunts of men!
O'ergrown with moss, with ivy bound,
It rises like a burial mound.

Long undisturb'd that cot has stood,
Save by the moping bird of night,
That midst its ruins hides her brood
Deep from the glare of day's broad light;

For superstition flits around,

And changes e'en the wind's low sound
To sighs and groans-and oft, 'tis said,
When evening shadows o'er the scene,
Hovering around the spot is seen
Rodolph the Robber's restless shade!

Loud howl'd the storm-the awful thunder,
Seem'd heaven's high vault to rend asunder;
The lightning on that awful night

Flash'd in one blaze of living light!
And who is she, with raven hair,
Her hands upraised to heaven,
Who stands the picture of despair,
And seems almost heart-riven?

"Tis she, that robber's lovely bride: Heiress to grandeur, wealth, and fame; Yet left them all her charms to hide

For one who bore an outlaw'd name.
And yet she knew it not, for he
Esteem'd the beauteous prize too well,
The dark and guilty tale to tell,
And break her heart with misery.

And she, who never dreamt of ill,
Bow'd all obedient to his will;
And 'tis for him she trembles now,
Lest on that much-loved honour'd brow
Heaven's swift avenging fire should fall,
And 'reave her of her love-her all!
Ah! little did her fond heart deem
How dark a fate he merited-

But, hark!-that voice, that step, proclaim
That all her cares her woes are fled.

Oh! ye whom expectation e'er

Has raised to fairy throne of bliss To plunge the deeper in despair,

By knowing all the joys ye miss;
Oh! ye alone the pang can know,
The overwhelming weight of woe
That on that wretched fair one fell,
When him she loved, alas! too well,
Before her wondering vision stood,
Drench'd in life's purple streamlet-blood!
"Claudine," he cried, "the die is cast-
Guilt's dark career is run at last-
Oh! I have lived an outlaw'd fiend
Hated by all, save thee alone;

And to this heart thou ne'er hadst lean'd
Hadst thou but half its vices known.
I have deceived thee, but 'tis o'er;
Deceit can now avail no more!
Life ebbs-I do not seek to live-
But ask one boon-canst thou forgive ?
Assured of that, oh! death to me
Were but release from misery.

Yet dare I hope?-oh! no, accurst
For ever be this hated hand!
Claudine! Claudine, oh! learn the worst!
Thy father's blood bedews this brand!”
Claudine replied not-woe had done
Its deadliest work-the spoil was won!
No tear escaped her glassy eye,
Her bosom heaved no rending sigh-
Reason's bright sun was fading fast;
She shudder'd, sank, and breathed her last.
He caught her ere to earth she fell,
And gazed upon each lifeless charm
That in his bosom raised a hell

No earthly power could ever calm.
Remembrance, like a meteor, flash'd
Across his mind, and pictured there
The time ere he her cup had dash'd
With the dark poison of Despair.
"Poor faded flower! nipt in the bud,
And I the sharp unpitying frost
That froze the crimson vital flood
Those lips, alas! for aye have lost,
One last embrace-the fell blood-hound
Has sounded Rodolph's knell;

For thee shall harps of seraphs sound,-
For me the screams of hell."

Justice has track'd the murderer's path,
But he is free from human wrath;
His still warm bleeding corpse they found
Defaced with many a ghastly wound:
One arm his lovely bride embraced,

One hand the blood-stain'd steel;
And in his look might well be traced
To Heaven a last appeal;

But 'twas for her his love had slain,-
Prayers for himself he deem'd but vain.
For her the solemn mass was said,
For her the requiem of the dead

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