Arms.-Ar., a chev., gu. between three morions, or steel caps, az. Crest.-A seahorse, ppr. Supporters.-Dexter, a buck, ppr., holding in the mouth an arrow. between the antlers a cross patée, fitchée, or; sinister, a horse, ppr. Motto.-"En grace affie." "On grace depend." THE NOBLE HOUSE OF CARDIGAN. THE Brudenell family is of considerable antiquity. Formerly the name was spelt differently. William de Bredenhill was a man of celebrity and of large possessions in the time of King Henry III and his successor. He held lands at Dodington, in Oxfordshire, as also at Adderbury and Bloxham, in the same county. He had besides property in Ayhno and Sibbertoft, in Northamptonshire. Sir Robert Brudenell, an eminent lawyer, who, in the 22nd year of Henry VII, was appointed one of the judges in the Court of King's Bench, was a descendant of the aforesaid William. In 1509 Sir Robert removed to the Common Pleas, and became Chief Justice of that court in 1520. He married Margaret, daughter and co-heiress of Thomas Entwisell, Esq., of Stanton Wivill, and relict of William Wivill, Esq., her ladyship being cousin and co-heiress of the valiant Sir Bentine Entwisell, Knight, Viscount Brickbeck, in Normandy, by whom he had two sons, the elder of whom, Sir Thomas, resided at Dean, in Northamptonshire. He married Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Sir William Fitzwilliam, of Melton, in Northumberland. By her he had five sons. He died in 1586, and was succeeded by his eldest surviving son, Thomas, who, dying in the same year, was succeeded by his brother, John, who died without issue in 1606, when the title devolved on his only surviving brother, Robert. This gentleman married, in 1570, Catherine, daughter and heiress of Geoffrey Taylard, Esq., and he was succeeded by his eldest son, Thomas Brudenell, who was created a baronet, June 29, 1611, and raised to the peerage by the title of Baron Brudenell, of Stanton Wivill, in the county of Leicester, April 26, 1627. He was further advanced to the Earldom of Cardigan April 20, 1661. His lordship married Margaret, daughter of His Sir Thomas Tresham, of Rushton St Peter, in the county of Northampton, by whom he had three sons. He zealously supported the royal cause during the long civil wars which followed, and suffered a long imprisonment in the Tower of London. He died September 16, 1663, and was succeeded by his eldest son, Robert, who was united to Mary, daughter to Henry Constable, Viscount Dunbar, by whom he had an only daughter, who was married to William Hay, Earl of Kinnoul. second consort was Anne, daughter of Viscount Savage. By that lady he had one son and three daughters. The former, whose name was Francis, married Frances, only daughter of James Saville, Earl of Sussex, by whom he had one son, George, and three daughters. This earl died July 16, 1703, and his son, just mentioned, being dead, George, the grandson, succeeded to the title as third earl. He married Lady Elizabeth Bruce, eldest daughter of Thomas, second Earl of Aylesbury, by whom he had four sons, George, James, Robert, and Thomas, and two daughters. In the reign of Queen Anne, the earl was created master of the buckhounds. His lordship died July 5, 1732, and was succeeded by his eldest son, George, fourth earl, who married Lady Mary Montague, third daughter and coheiress of John, second Duke of Montague, and last of that creation. On the death of that nobleman, in 1749, his lordship assumed the surname and name of Montague, and on the 28th of October, 1776, was advanced to a marquisate and dukedom as Marquis of Monthermer and Duke of Montague. His grace had issue, John, created Lord Montague, of Boughton, who died, unmarried, in 1770, when the dignity expired. He had also three daughters. The duke was installed a Knight of the Garter, June 4, 1752, and appointed Governor to their Royal Highnesses the Prince of Wales and Prince Frederick. He was created, August 21, 1786, Baron Montagu of Boughton, with remainder to his grandson James, second son of the Duke of Buccleugh, by Elizabeth, his second daughter, who, in 1667, had been united to Henry, third Duke of Buccleugh. In 1790, the duke (of Montague) died, when the dukedom and marquisate became extinct. The barony of Montague passed according to the limitation, and the Earldom of Cardigan devolved upon his next brother, James, the fifth Earl, who had been created October 17, 1780, Baron Brudenell. He married twice, first Nov. 23, 1760. Anne, eldest daughter of George Viscount Lewisham, but by her had no issue. On the 28th April, 1791, he was married to Elizabeth, sister to George, fourth Earl of Waldegrave, and she also died childless. His lordship deceased Feb. 24, 1811, when the last Barony of Brudenell ceased, but the heritable honours of the family came to his nephew, Robert, sixth earl. He was born April 25, 1769, and married, March 8, 1794, Penelope Anne, second daughter of George John Cooke, Esq., of Harefield park, Middlesex, by whom he had issue one son and seven daughters. On his death, August 14, 1837, he was succeeded by James Thomas Brudenell, the present peer, who was born Oct. 16, 1797. He is the seventh Earl of Cardigan. His lordship married, June 19, 1826, Elizabeth Jane Henrietta, eldest daughter of Admiral Tollemache. A LEGEND OF NAPLES. BY PETER PORUS. THE Sounds of mirth and revelry resounded through the halls of the Monterini palace, and every room was lighted up as for an illumination, for it was the carnival season, and within the elite of Naples were indulging in the recreations of the period. Every luxury had been provided by the munificent owner for the gratifica tion of his guests; every entertaining device, every delightful novelty, had been introduced for their pleasure, and those who had assembled at his invitation were deficient neither in number nor in rank. An unwonted proportion of the fair sex graced the brilliant scene; but none of these attractions could prevent some few of the guests from resorting for amusement to that pernicious vice which prevails to such a fearful extent amongst the Italians-gambling. In a low room, lighted by a single lamp, and separated from the more brilliant apartments by a long corridor, sat fou gentlemen, whose flushed appearance and anxious demeanour but too evidently betokened the excitement under which they laboured. Wine, too, had added its potent influence, and the two united had evidently awakened some of the worst passions to which human nature is liable. For some time they conducted the game in silence, broken only by a muttered oath, or angry exclamation, which occasionally escaped the lips of one or other of the party; but at length a Signior Roncoroni, rendered suspicious by repeated losses, charged his immediate antagonist with fraudulent practices; and the smothered flame now burst forth with the greater fury from the efforts which had been made to repress it. In vain their respective partners endeavoured to pacify them; they fared as they would had they sought to quench a fire with oil, for the quarrel "I say waxed more and more violent. he cheated," exclaimed the accuser; "I detected him in the very act." "He lies! he lies! By all the saints, he lies!" was Guardini's passionate response. As if actuated by a mutual impulse, both gentlemen sprang to their feet, and, ere it was possible to interpose, the sword of each was pointed at the other's breast. The unaided efforts of their comrades were insufficient to restrain the enraged combatants, and mortal consequences might have ensued; but others, alarmed by the tumult, now entering the room, they succeeded in parting and conveying the combatants to their respective homes in peace. This done, they returned to their amusements, and in half an hour the affair was forgotten. But on Roncoroni's mind this untoward event created an indelible impression. On reaching his home, he repaired to his chamber, but not to rest. The insult offered by Guardini had raised a wrathful tempest in his bosom, never to be stilled but by sacrifice to his injured honour. With burning brow and wildly-beating heart, he paced the room, devising schemes of deep and deadly revenge; till, wearied at length by his monotonous round, he threw himself on his couch to seek repose. But sleep would not come at his bidding. With a fierce malediction on his foe, he at length started from his recumbent position, and striding to the window, saw that the beams of the rising sun gleamed on the spires of Naples. "It is early," he muttered, "but I cannot wait." As he spoke, he left the room, and bent his steps in the direction of a confidential servant's apartment; for no one had yet arisen. Rapping at the door, he called to him to rise. "Pietro." he exclaimed, "lazy cur! do you not hear me ?" "Is it you, signior ?" said the man in a tone of surprise “Ay, me, knave. Is there anything won derful in that? Come, open the door and admit me, Pietro,” he continued, as the door closed behind him; "dost thou know Bandoli ?" "Know him? Yes, signior; there are few in Naples who do not." 66 "Then, do you hear-bring him to me." "Fetch Bandoli, signior!" the man exclaimed. "The saints be with me! did I hear right?" And he crossed himself. "Yes, fetch him-bring him instantly. Why-what is the fool staring at? Come, come; bestir yourself! You will find me in the library. Bring him through the garden; and be secret as death." With this injunction he left him, and repairing to the library, anxiously awaited the coming of Bandoli. The minutes seemed to pass slowly, as though even time had entered the lists against him. "A plague on the lazy fool," he muttered, stamping his foot impatiently. "Why is he so long? Bandoli is ever ready if any one wishes to employ him. Holy Saint Gennaro !" he exclaimed, and his pale features assumed a yet more cadaverous hue, "it may be that Guardini has been before me, and even at this moment Bandoli is, perchance, seeking my life." "Not so, signior," replied a voice behind him, and hastily turning, he beheld Bandoli himself. "I was waiting at the gate," he said, "for I expected my assistance would be required." "You know what has happened, then ?" Roncoroni demanded, fiercely. "I merely heard there had been a quarrel," the bravo replied. "It is well," said Roncoroni. "I would not have my dishonour made public. Listen, Bandoli: Signior Guardini has insulted me; he has awoke a demon-a fiery moloch in my breast, which will not be appeased but with blood. mark me?" Bandoli nodded assent. Do you the whole, "and never take more than my price.” 66 'Well, be it as you will," said Roncoroni. "But, tell me, how will you despatch Guardini?" The ruffian silently pointed to his stiletto. "Could you not manage it more secretly?" asked his associate in guilt, who was conscious that the odium of the murder would fall upon him. "Is it not possible to administer a dose of poison?” Bandoli's demeanour underwent a sudden change. A dark shade passed across his brow, and his hand instinctively grasped the handle of the murderous weapon which hung at his side, as he angrily replied, "Did I not say I was a man of honour? The deed you name is one which no man, above all, no bravo of honour, would be guilty of. I tell you, signior, it would be as much beneath a regular-bred physician to turn quack doctor, as for a bravo to become a poisoner.” "But your hand may tremble," urged Roncoroni." You may fail "Fail!" repeated the bravo, and he laughed at the idea. "Do you see that hand, signior?" he demanded. Roncoroni replied in the affirmative. "Well, signior, that hand has sent fourscore souls to their long home.* It never once failed." The signior started at this unnatural boast, and hastily exclaimed, "Well, well, it matters not, so the deed be done. In half an hour I shall expect to hear of Guardini's death." "In half an hour I will bring you his little finger," said Bandoli; and summoning Pietro, who waited in the ante-chamber, he left Roncoroni to count the moments, and await his re-appearance. Half an hour! It was but a few minutes, but the most ingenious inquisitor never devised a torture so exquisite as that "And will do me this friendly service?" which racked the murderer, for such Ronpursued Roncoroni. Thanks, good bravo!" was the joyful exclamation which followed this reply. "How shall I requite thee?" 66 With fifty pistoles," replied Bandoli, as cooly as though the affair had been a mere matter of commonplace business, instead of a transaction involving cold-blooded murder. Not so Roncoroni, whose hand trembled as he threw the bravo a purse. He felt, moreover, sick at heart, for his conscience told him it was the price of blood. Bandoli received the purse with great nonchalance, and emptying the contents on a table, deliberately counted out the sum he had named. The remainder he returned to the owner. "I am a man of honour," he said, in reply to an offer of coroni felt himself to be, during that short space. But the half hour elapsed, and, punctual to his promise, Bandoli reentered the room and threw a bloody finger on the table. "It is well," said Roncoroni. "I am satisfied; but take away that carrion, and leave me, in God's name, to my own meditations." "Not so, signior," said Bandoli; "I have sent Guardini home, it is true, but ere I did so, I entered into a certain engagement with him. Now, though he is dead, and therefore unable to call me to account, I scorn to be guilty of a breach of promise, for I am a man of honour, signior," he continued, as he drew nearer Ronconi; Such was actually the boast of a Neapolitan bravo, who flourished about the middle of the last century. GREEN GOOSE FAIR AT BOW- Bow fair, which was among the scenes of "At Bow, the Thursday after Pentecost There is a fair of greene geese ready rost, By hundreds and by heaps they go to wracke; Such swearing, drubbing, dancing, dicing, toiling; Such shifting, shanking, cheating, smoaking, stinking; Such gormandising, cramming, guzzling, As if the world did run on wheels away, He then proceeds playfully to celebrate the peculiarities of the goose, and gives a very droll anecdote of himself. He says "Once I remember riding on my way But sure himself so bravely he did beare, That GANDEROUS is a DANGEROUS anagram. Review. Uncle Sam's Peculiarities. By Uncle Sam. We have many pictures of the United This is sheer folly and ignorance. Their bull-frog pride receives its appropriate chastisement in the cold disdain with which every impartial spectator, of moderate capacity, regards their pretensions. A lower tone would become America better. To a young nation it is no reproach that it is in most respects somewhat behind one that has had a thousand of millions to spend on its soil and public years to form its character, and millions edifices. Instead of insolently and falsely pretending to be before, they might rationally rejoice in not being immeasurably behind, a people that from circumstances had possessed such advantages. They, however, seem to enjoy nothing without indulging in silly exultation over the supposed start they are gaining on the British. This appears in the book before us. Though the writer is not a rabid assailant of all that especially pertains to the inhabitants of the United States, he exhibits them in a very ridiculous light. Without malice, we must suspect that, feeling within him self the power of a satirist, he has sometimes used it rather to provoke a laugh than to furnish an unexaggerated portrait. Be this as it may, his letters are highly amusing, and contain much valuable information, some allowance being made for the banter in which he is prone to indulge. His "mimicry," as he himself terms it, of the conversations of the Americans is often comic in the extreme, and gives a reality to the scenes he describes which could be furnished in no other way. Vulgarity, selfishness, and arrogance, enter largely into most of his pictures; and the views we occasionally get of the degradation of slavery, furnish the most biting satire of all on the trumpet tongued" swagger of Brother Jonathan, alias (for from old associations we suppose he must have an alias) Uncle Sam. 66 Not the least entertaining passages in this work are those which make us acquainted with the emendations our mother tongue receives in America. There are some terms almost startling enough to justify an apprehension that American, in time, will not come nearer to what we call English, than the Italian language does to the Latin. Our author brings forward a great variety of characters, and all are depicted with whim, though sometimes a little exaggerated. But from pleasantry he sometimes passes to a more serious vein. The following sensible lecture is read to a well-meaning American gentleman, who is carried away with the stream of gasconade which runs through the country. We do not know whether the plan of operations which he lays down emanated from the War Department, but it may be worth looking at there, and deserves grave consideration elsewhere: "Hear an English version of the American history. During the reign of George the Third, the English living in America fought the king's troops, and with the help of the French, surrounded them very gallantly, and thus achieved their independence. The last war was commenced by the Americans, at the instigation of Napoleon, and with the vain hope of helping to cripple England. While Great Britain was fighting in three parts of the world, America, inheriting free institutions, and almost everything of which she has to be proud, from Great Britain, joined the emperor in his efforts at destroying the liberty, independence and power of the mother country, the only anchor of freedom in Europe. Republican America fighting on the side of despotism is truly something for Jonathan to be proud of; but he gained nothing by the attempt not even glory. What was the attack on New Orleans, which you call a battle? The British troops land and march (very badly generalled) up to their knees in mud, to a place defended by cotton bags, behind which the American military, in perfect security, keep up such a deadly fire on the besiegers, that so many thousands are killed, and the remainder are taken prisoners, at the expense of some half dozen men killed by accident on the American side. Here was no fighting, and, in the name of common sense, why will you call a defeated attack of this description a battle?" "But look at our sea-fights on the Atlantic, the Pacific, and Lake Champlain. Did we not beat the British over and over, and over again?' "I believe the British lost about as many engagements in the war as the Americans; or to speak more correctly, the British fighting on the American side gained as many battles as the British fighting on the English side. The British beat the British, the native Americans having half a share both in the victories and the defeats. This is the truth, disguise it after what flourish you may.' "I expect you are taking considerable of glory from the American side to give to England. But that's the way with all of you British; you are so angry at our having beaten you.' "You mistake: I cannot allow for a moment that any of us, from the King of England down to a Welsh waiter in a Broadway victualling store, can be angry at any such trumpery. Ha, ha! my dear major, I have been giving you a regular specimen of our English style of speaking out.' "This is a free country, and you certainly have spoken your mind freely.' 666 "Yes, major, for once. It's a treat I have very seldom enjoyed since I left England." 666 'Why, if an American were to speak against the King of England, in London, as you have spoken of Uncle Sam here, he would be sent to the Tower.' 66 6 'Forgive my laughing: the idea is so droll.' "We haven't had a toast. I'll give you one you won't drink. In the next war between John and Jonathan, may the most powerful whip the other.' 666 With all my heart. But do you really suppose you would have any chance of whipping the English if we were, during the war, at peace with the rest of the world, so that we might concentre_onehalf of our means against you? Why, you are the most naked nation in the world. You have two thousand miles of sea board - with towns worth attacking—to defend.' : "We have and you have Canada to defend against us.' "Shall I inform you how we should |