Gone to fight the Duke of Brunswickprecious trump that same Brunswicktroublesome chap!-Hate this country most decidedly-have paid my bill, and DIO my motto-Brutal set these Swiss-William Tell all fudge-no such man ever existed.Don't you think so, Ma'am ?" he observed, in half turning to address a lady, who, during the operation of self-admiration, had caught his eye, as her figure stood reflected in the glass. "I have the honour to be a native of the country, Sir," was the reply. "Indeed!" with a mingled look of compassion and contempt, drawled out the puppy

extremely sorry for you, upon my honour." We were excessively annoyed by the real or affected ruffianism of this mongrel; but a gentleman present, who had been for some time eyeing him with curiosity, presumed to observe," that he greatly feared we had intruded into his apartment." -"Sar!" with a withering stare through his lorgnette, was the only notice this suggestion received from its object. The gentleman, unintimidated, however, proceeded in stating that he be lieved he had seen the intruder before."Much the advantage of me, 'pon honour," said the beau with a bitter sneer. "I will be plain with you, Sir," continued the other; 66 it was but lately that I was dining at Dole, in Franche Comté, when three persons placed themselves at our table d'hote, one of them a female (an itinerant actress, I presume); the others, in conformity to general usage, I shall denominate men.

The

conversation of the new comers soon obliged all the other females to retreat from the room. The diligence was announced as departing at the same moment, or I should have presumed to have given a lesson to one of the offending parties, which it may not yet be too late to afford." Having gradually sidled to the door during this oration, as the gentleman terminated his address, the discomfited exquisite hesitated not to dart from the room with admirable speed; and once quit of his offensive presence, somewhat of curiosity remained in us as to who or what he might be. "Un chevalier Anglais," said the waiting-maid as she left the room; but she soon returned with something she said the chevalier had left behind him in his hasty farewell. It resembled a large portefeuille, but slipping from her fingers, while she grasped one end, the other by regularly descending evolutions marvellously extended itself. It was a book of patterns! long cloths and broad, merinos and kerseymeres; evincing that the chevalier united business to pleasure in his travels; and, notwithstanding his rank, did not disdain to be useful in procuring a more extended consumption on the Continent of the manufactures of his native country.-New Monthly Mag.

DIRGE.

TO THE MEMORY OF MISS ELLEN GEE, OF KEW, WHO DIED IN CONSEQUENCE OF BEING STUNG IN THE EYE.

PEERLESS, yet hapless maid of Q!
Accomplish'd LÑG!
Never again shall I and U
Together sip our T.

For ah! the Fates! I know not Y,
Sent 'midst the flowers a B,
Which ven mous stung her in the I,
So that she could not C.

LN exclaim'd, "Vile spiteful B!
If ever I catch U
On jes'mine, rosebud, or sweet P,
I'll change your stinging Q.

"I'll send you like a lamb or U,
Across the Atlantic C,

From our delightful village Q,
To distant OYE.

"A stream runs from my wounded I, Salt as the briny C,

As rapid as the X or Y;
The OIO, or D.

"Then fare thee ill insensate B!

Who stung, nor yet knew Y; Since, not for wealthy Durham C Would I have lost my 1."

They bear with tears fair LNG
In funeral RA,

A clay-cold corse now doom'd to B,
Whilst I mourn her DK.

Ye nymphs of Q, then shun each B,
List to the reason Y!
For should a BCU at T,

He'll surely sting your 1.
Now in a grave L deep in Q,

She's cold as cold can be; Whilst robins sing upon a U,

Her dirge and LEG.-New Monthly Mag.

EXPERIMENT ON THE HUMAN BODY.

AN experiment to ascertain the degree of heat it is possible for man to bear, was lately made at the New Tivoli, at Paris, in the presence of a company of about 200 persons, amongst whom were many professors, savans, and physiologists, who had been specially invited to attend by the physician Robertson, director of that establishment. The man on whom the experiment was made is a Spaniard of Andalusia, named Martinez, aged 43. A cylindrical oven in the shape of a dome had been heated for four hours by a very powerful fire. At ten minutes past eight the Spaniard, having on large pantaloons of red flannel, a thick cloak also of flannel, and a large felt, after the fashion of straw hats, went into the oven, where he re

THE SPIRIT'S LAND.

BY JOHN MALCOLM.

THE Spirit's Land!-where is that land
Of which our fathers tell?
Qu whose mysterious, viewless strand,
Earth's parted millions dweil!
Beyond the bright and starry sphere,
Creation's flaming space remote;
Beyond the measureless career,

The phantom flight of thought.

There, fadeless flowers their blossoms wave
Beneath a cloudless sky;

And there the latest lingering tear

Is wiped from every eye;
And souls beneath the trees of life

Repose upon that blessed shore,
Where pain, and toil, and storm, and strife,
Shall never reach them more.

And yet, methinks, a chastened woe
Een there may prompt the sigh-
Sweet sorrows we would not forego
For calm, unmingled joy,

When stratus from angel-harps may stray
On heavenly airs, of mortal birth,
That we have heard far, far away,
Amid the bowers of earth.

Ah! then perchance, their saddening spell,
That from oblivion saves,
May wander, like a lorn farewell,
From this dim land of graves;
And, like the vision of a dream,

Shed on the disembodied mujd,
Of mortal life a dying gleam,
And loved ones left behind.

Yea-yes, I will, I must believe
That Natue's sacred ties
Survive, and to the spirit cleave,
Immortal in the skies;

And that imperfect were my bliss

To heaven itself, and dashed with care,

If those I loved on earth should miss
The path that leadeth there.

Friendship's Offering.

When on service in France he had the command of a fort, which, although summoned to surrender by a very superior force, he held until his provisions entirely failed, and there was no prospect of obtaining any. Almost in a state of starvation, he capitulated, and was allowed to retire from the fortress with the honours of war. Having marched about two miles, he understood from some peasants that he had been misinformed respecting the amount of the force to which he had given up the fortress: he countermarched his men, and retook what he had only a few hours before vacated.

He never forgot any thing like an annoyance offered to him, however unintentional. An officer, by accident, trod on his toes, when quartered in Malta; ten years afterwords he sat next this gentleman at the commander-in-chief's table at Madras. Vellet quietly put his heel on the gentleman's toe, of which the other did not take notice; on his repeating it the gentleman said-" Colonel Vellet, this is the second time, Sir, you have trod on my toe. I am troubled with the gout, and must request you will not do so again." The colonel replied-" Yes, I know I did, but you trod on my toe ten years ago in Malta-we are quits now."

He had been billeted in a house, when a subaltern, with General Mude; he was then the senior; they had only one room between them. Mude was continually taking long strides across the room, and whistling, which the other did not like: he with a piece of chalk marked a division in the apartment, appropriating the better half to himself; he then requested Mude not to overstep the boundary, and to whistle so as not to be heard beyond it.

The colonel had preserved every suit of clothes since his first entering the army, with all his appointments, never giving any thing of this description away; and as he had been forty-five years in our regiment, it may be concluded he had a considerable stock on hand. He had, while in Egypt, bottled several dozens of the water of the Nile, which he carried about with him in all his campaigns.

On a march he generally had about two hundred coolies, or native porters, whom he used to muster on coming to his ground. He had always a fine stud, and when marching, about ten of his horses would be led by their grooms, with old jack-boots, or some such

rubbish thrown across them; the boots would be crammed with all kinds of rags, papers, orderly books, &c. His palanquin, in which he seldom travelled, was similarly filled.

It would nearly fill a volume did I detail at length all my recollections of this colonel's peculiar sayings and doings.

There was one excellent trait in his character which I hope may, with deference to those in authority over us, operate as an excitement to other commanding officers to emulate. The colonel kept most excellent wines, and frequently entertained the officers; and if their was a greater proportion of one rank invited to his table than another, the subalterns of his regiment were the oftenest honoured by what were facetiously termed Vellet's provokes.-The Subaltern's Log Book.

sent to Corfu, and received into the asylum prepared for these victims of war and barbarity. Judge of Sophia's astonishment, when the first person she cast her eyes upon in this place, was her own daughter, the fair Crepula, whom she had devoted to death, in order to preserve her from a more cruel fate! The singular beauty of this damsel had struck the Turks, who finding she yet breathed, although her wound appeared mortal, took such extreme care of her that she recovered. This miraculous preservation so forcibly excited the curiosity and the interest of the agents employed in the redemption of captives, that the amiable Crepula was restored to liberty and to her relations, who had been inconsolable at her loss.—Asiatie Journal.

HEROISM OF THE MODERN GREEKS.

SEPULCHRAL MONUMENTS IN

CYRENAIS.

THE following remarkable incident is related by an English philhellenist, who has long resided in Greece, as a proof that the modern Greeks have not degenerated.

Sophia Condulina was the wife of an officer of rank, who was killed during the siege of Missolonghi. She succeeded in escaping with her son and daughter (the latter a beautiful young woman of sixteen), when the Turks entered the place. The fugitives, however, had reached but a short distance from its dilapidated walls, when they were met by a troop of Turkish cavalry. Sophia instantly formed her resolution: she ordered her son to discharge his pistol at his sister's head. This dreadful order was executed, and the young virgin fell bathed with her blood. The mother and son endeavoured to gain a cavern where they might conceal themselves; but, just at the moment when they reached this asylum, the son was struck by a bullet which broke his leg. Sophia took the wounded youth upon her shoulders, and succeeded in conveying him into the cavern; but the Turks followed close upon them, and pistols were presented at the two fugitives, when the mother loudly exclaimed"Barbarians! do you not perceive that I am a woman?" The exclamation was not without its effect, even in that day of slaughter: the lives of the mother and the son were spared; but they could not avoid slavery.

Hitherto the adventure is not distinguished from those tragical incidents of which a town taken by assault affords so many affecting examples; but the sequel is remarkable. The mother and son were both redeemed by the Continental Committee employed in this work of humanity; they were

THE sepulchres of Maarah afforded a curious spectacle, and one which suggested many reflections. It was not without surprise that, at the entrance of these ancient sepulchres, we beheld, instead of gravedigger's instruments, muskets with fixed bayonets: that in these caverns, formerly consecrated to grief and silence, we heard the noisy ebullitions of savage gaiety. We were not less struck at seeing the Arabs place their daily food even at the bottom of sarcophagi, and little beings just entered into the world

sucking infants-disporting naked in the monolithic vessels, where heretofore the corpses were purified before they were deposited in the tombs. But, more especially, it was impossible to refrain from feeling a painful impression at the sight of antique bones, disturbed, after a repose of several centuries, taken from their coffins, and employed as shuttles for weaving coarse cloths! This approximation of remote epochs, this revolution of customs, produces strange contrasts in the mind of the traveller, which arrests his attention, and disposes him to reflection.-M. Pacho's Voyage dans la Cyrénaïque.

ANECDOTES OF BARRY, THE PAINTER.

THE professor Barry was better known for having painted those immense pictures in the great room of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, than for any superiority of talent displayed in the performances. He came over from Ireland full of that enthusiasm and self-approbation, which distin

guishes all the natives of that island. In London he failed of obtaining the patronage he had fondly anticipated, and took up his abode in the house of a tailor in Whitchcome-street, who supported him with board and lodging during the whole time that he was painting the pictures to which I have alluded, and the debt in this case contracted was never afterwards paid.

Barry sold his pictures to the society in the Adelphi, for an annuity during his life of thirty pounds, and removed to a small dirty house in Castle-street, where he continued in dust and filth to the time of his death, not allowing any one to come near him for the purposes of cleanliness. He was a learned man, as far as concerned his profession, and it was on this account that he was made professor of painting in the Royal Academy; but in his lectures he attacked the president and other members, whose works he thought defective, while he held up his own as models of perfection.

Barry was of a most sordid and mean disposition, so that he would often declare, no man ought to spend more than fourpence a day; yet his spirit was such, that when invited, out of respect to his learning in the arts, to dine with the Marquis of Stafford, or any other nobleman, he always put a halfcrown under his plate when he had done eating, to pay for his dinner.

But he was as indiscriminately morose as he was penurious. The late Duke of Norfolk, president of that institution which had purchased Barry's large pictures, called upon him one morning. Barry opened the door himself, which sent down clouds of dust, whilst the duke, not being permitted to enter, said " Mr. Barry, I wish you to make a portrait of me."-" Then," said the cynical artist, "go to Romney in the square; he paints blockheads, I do not;" and shut the door in the duke's face.

BEHIND THE SCENES.

THE jealousies, the intrigues, perpetually at work behind the scenes of a theatre, cannot be detailed, any more than the fluctuations of the currents of air along the streets. They form the atmosphere of the place.

Let a new opera be intended to be brought forward. Signor This will not sing his part, because it is not prominent enough; so, to enrich it, a gathering must be made of airs from other operas, no matter whether by the same composer or not, nor whether there be any congruity between the style of the original piece and the adventitious passages introduced. De Begnis, who, from some cause, or no cause, was disliked by the other performers, chose "Il Turco in Italia," for his

own and his wife's debut. Every obstacle was thrown in the way of its representation; at last, all the best parts of "La Cenerentola" were forced into it, to add importance to the parts of the other performers. Indeed, from the same cause, I never had the full advantage of that valuable performer's services. If the sense of an opera is worth any thing, let the effect of this curious process be imagined. Do not let it be supposed that the manager has any power to decide in a case like this. Probably the opera is already advertised for performance, in which case, “I will not play this part," must have its way. The opera being announced, must go on, and concessions must be made, as it cannot be represented without the performer in question.

Imagine the director entering: "Sir, Mr. A. B. won't go on with the rehearsal.” "Indeed! why not?" "He says you ought to do so and so for him, and he refuses to go on till it is done." While this is in discussion, behold an ambassador from the other performers. "The singers, Sir, say they can't wait at the theatre all day; if the arrangement with Mr. A. B. is not settled, they must go home." What is the refuge of the manager? If he remains steadfast, an appeal to the committee is an engine of confusion quite at hand, especially if the complainant happen to be a jolie danseuse.

It is the office of the ballet-master to design the ballets-to lay out in detail the story they involve, and direct the character of dance appropriate to each step of the piece. Here, as in the opera, a performer, who imagines his part too meagre in opportunities of display, makes no scruple of introducing an excrescence in the shape of a pas seul, or whatever else may strike his fancy; and unless this is consented to, there is an end of the performance. Hence it is not very unusual to see a despairing lover express his grief in a pirouette, or a beauty, flying from pursuit, effect her escape in a minuet, so judiciously are these gratuitous additions often introduced.

The ballet-master, knowing too well that he cannot guard against these derangements of his productions, consoles himself by making his ballet as splendid and decorative as possible, in order to reap some credit from his performances. The expense of all this, not being borne by himself, is, of course, no object, though he may consult the manager as to the limits of the expenditure. If he does this, it is, however, only to go beyond the prescribed boundaries in every way. A composer is to be engaged to furnish the music for the ballet. "Give him twenty pounds," says the manager; and the ballet-master forthwith goes to him, and says—" Write down thirty, and let the music for my ballet be so much the better." The day before the performance the composer presents his de