Why,

"What-what have I

and entirely changing his tone and manner. said?-I am sure I meant no offence." "No offence!" repeated Lawson. , you have as much as given Captain Popham the lie. He will call you out as sure as fate." "My goodness!" said poor Thwaites, "I did not intend that. I only meant to say that the assertion I alluded to would be incorrect. Otherwise I should have said that he lied, and knew that he lied." "Why, what is the difference?"

"Every difference," said Thwaites. "Don't you know what Johnson used to say? If he meant that a man was simply incorrect in a statement, he said that he lied; if that he told a wilful falsehood, he added that he knew he lied. I had no idea of telling the Captain that."

"Where did you learn this?" inquired Lawson.

"In Boswell's 'Life of Johnson,' which I have just been reading. Dear me! I would not have offended the Captain for the world." "Tom," said Mr. Lawson to a friend who was present, 66 run, like a good fellow, after Captain Popham, and explain, if you can, that Thwaites had no intention to insult him. This really is a very awkward business. But come, let us hope it will be arranged."

All the mirth of the party had, by this untoward event, been altogether spoiled; and they sat, maintaining a painful silence, Thwaites abashed, discomforted, and looking the very picture of confusion. At length the mediator returned without having found the Captain, and Thwaites, hardly knowing what he was about, was fain to withdraw, in a state of mind which we must leave to be imagined.

The next day, as Mr. Lawson had predicted, a message demanding satisfaction was despatched by Captain Popham to Mr. Thwaites, and the latter was under the necessity of putting the affair into the hands of a friend. We are happy, however, to be able to state, that this very ugly business was, after all, settled without bloodshed, through the good sense of the seconds, who with some difficulty persuaded the Captain to accept an explanation, accompanied by the expression of regret, on the part of Thwaites, for his incautious language.

Let us hope that from the range of characters which Mr. Thwaites may in future enact, that of Dr Johnson will at any rate be excluded,— or, at least, that he will be a little more cautious in his performance.”

THE OLD FARM-HOUSE.

'Tis a pleasant spot, that old farm-house
That stands by the lone wayside,

Where the sweet woodbine and the eglantine
The rents in its old wall hide!

And the porch, it seems as though 'twould greet
Each wanderer for its guest,

And lead him where there is hearty cheer,

And a home of tranquil rest!

How joyous once was the old farm-house,
In times that have pass'd away,

When the yeomen took, in the ingle nook,
Their place at the close of day!

And still doth the merry husbandman
The mirthful hours beguile;

And many a tale, as there they regale,
Belongs to that olden pile!

EVERYBODY Who was anybody in the year 1814, will easily remember what a flood-tide of dissipation and delight rushed in upon us with the news of the Capitulation of Paris, and the expected visit of the Allied Sovereigns. England, that had battled to the last with the stern energy of a bull-dog, was now disposed to freak and gambol with the wanton liveliness of a pet puppy. The whole nation, oblivious of enormous taxes and war-prices, was agog for a kind of national merrymaking, and grouped round an ideal transparency representing Britannia tossing away her trident and dancing, hands-four-round, with Russia, Prussia, and Austria.

As might be expected, the military were made a special object of popular enthusiasm. Real bronzed heroes who had "been through the Peninsula" were difficult to catch, and received more invitations to dances and soirées than by any possibility they had time to answer. En attendant, many a beardless ensign who had been at Waterloo, and taken his small share of that " day of enormous mistakes," became elevated into a sort of authority upon military matters, and was listened to deferentially while he explained the peculiarities of the Duke's position, and traced upon the table, with his finger dipped in claret, the exact spot where Grouchy debouched, or where the Imperial Guard made their last stand, and were supposed to have uttered that immortal apothegm now happily classed among the myths of apocryphal history.

It was, however, for foreigners that the highest distinctions were reserved; upon foreigners were lavished the envy of the male sex, and the admiring glances of the fair. Then, as now, and probably ever since the days of the Norman invasion, the stranger received the lion's share of popular attention and regard. We have here no space to bestow beyond that of a passing remark upon the phenomenon that, with all our vaunted nationality, and John Bullishness, and such like undoubted characteristics, we always run madly after every semblance, shade, and shadow of "a foreigner," who may condescend to drink our wine, ride our horses, flirt with our daughters, and show us up in three volumes at the end of the season. Such is the fact. Let others philosophize upon it; we are content to blush over it, and to continue our narrative.

Among all the countless swarm that at this precise period alighted upon our coasts, none,-no, not a Baron, nor a Prince, could compare with Count Alexis Obrenow, Cuirassier of the Imperial Guard, Knight Grand Cordon of the order of the Black Eagle, and last, but by no means least, C. d. s. m. I. L'E. d. t. 1. R. These cabalistic signs, which might be discovered by the curious among the elaborate tracery of the Count's visiting-cards, imported that he held the rank of Chamberlain to His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of all the Russias. If, in addition to these extrinsic qualifications, we add that the person of this distinguished Russian was unexceptionably ferocious, and that whether, judging from his hair, his head was placed above or below his chin, was

a matter (among the ladies) of delicious doubt and uncertainty, we have said enough to account for his elevation to the topmost round of that giddy ladder which is supported by the fickle hand of Fashion.

Yet let us be just to Count Alexis Obrenow. If not exactly talented in its better sense, assuredly he possessed to an astonishing degree the talent of society-the small currency of saloons and clubs. He could dance a minuet gracefully, could sing a chanson admirably, had the art of anecdote in perfection, and, above all these minor gifts, the Count could assume a certain vein of dangerous sentimentality dashed by a sombre tone which rather inferred than alluded to a mystery whose depths had never yet been fathomed, though they possibly might be by those tender blue eyes which at the moment dissolved between pity and curiosity, as they gazed upon the sallow cheek of the handsome Cuirassier.

Thus gifted, thus doubly armed by the aspect of what he was, and the thought of what he might be, was it wonderful that the success of the Imperial Chamberlain was the theme of every tongue in London?

Just at this time, indeed, if London gossip was to be credited, the coping-stone of the Count's good fortune was about to be laid, by his intended marriage with the Lady Anne Callington, sole child and heiress of the wealthy Earl Durston, or De Urston, as it pleased the Earl to pronounce his very ancient family name. By what arts the Count had won the haughty peer's consent to this match, is to this day, among certain circles, a matter of marvel; for the head of the De Urstons, so far from sharing his countrymen's predilection for foreigners, held them all in undisguised and indiscriminate contempt, remarking that the last real Counts were the Foresters, or Counts of the Low Countries, and they became extinct when Philip of Burgundy placed himself at the head of the Seventeen Provinces. By what arts Count Alexis obtained the consent of the Lady Anne has never, we believe, been made the subject of marvel in any society whatsoever.

It was towards midnight when a ball given at De Urston House attained its height of superb festivity. Country-dance, and cotillon, and the newly-imported French country-dance, or quadrille, had been executed to repletion, when a few select couples stood up to exhibit, in a stately minuet, the perfection of dignity and ease so essential to this courtly measure. Most conspicuous in the group were Lady Anne and Count Alexis, and a murmur of applause forced itself on the ear as the distinguished foreigner and his stately partner alternately advanced and retired according to the exigencies of the figure. So absorbed, indeed, was the general attention, that the entrance of a considerable accession of guests, which would otherwise hardly have escaped remark, passed unnoticed. They consisted of a tall and very handsome man in the prime of life, apparently attended by five or six officers of high rank, and one or two civilians. Some announcement was about to take place when the chief personage of the party imposed silence by a sudden and somewhat haughty gesture, and, taking his station as a spectator of the dance, quietly surveyed the circle which surrounded the performers, while his attendants, at a slight distance, conversed among themselves.

The moment was decisive of that crisis in the dance where the slow and staetly minuet blends, after a short introduction, with the livelier gavotte. The music had preluded a few quick bars, and the dancers stood motionless, but ready at the proper time to spring forward into

graceful action. Count Alexis drew himself up and prepared to eclipse his competitors, when his eye, wandering triumphantly round the circle, fell on the cold stern glance of the new-comer. We will not borrow a hackneyed phrase to express a situation always interesting, but sufficiently well known, when the eye suddenly and unexpectedly lights upon an object of dread, supposed to be far distant. Certainly, had the sickness pretended by Count Obrenow been real, it could not more effectually have blanched his cheek, and unnerved his frame. The music challenged him in vain. Without an effort to rally, at the very height of his exaltation, he staggered rather than withdrew from the circle, muttering some incoherent excuse, and leaving Lady Anne almost more mortified at the ridicule of her position than alarmed at the illness of her lover. But the crowd which opened for a moment to let them pass in opposite directions, as instantly closed up, and almost as easily forgot the incident under the exhilarating excitement of the dance which succeeded. Type of life! The greatest private calamity is as a stone in the whirlpool; a bubble on the surface its memorial, and then no trace of its descent.

From whatever motive, Lady Anne, on quitting the dance, did not seek the cause of her lover's indisposition. Without pausing to inquire of the bystanders, she threaded her way through the crowd to a distant room where the Earl was enjoying his eleventh rubber with two Cabinet Ministers and the Russian Ambassador. Silently seating herself on an ottoman in an obscure corner, the wayward beauty found a strange amusement in the utter neglect to which she was self-condemned, and in the contrast her will could bring about between the light and glare and noise of the ball-rooms, and the monotonous hum which pervaded an apartment only lighted by the wax-lights on the whisttable.

Meanwhile Alexis had mechanically sunk into the first vacant seat, where, covering his face with his hands, he cowered rather than sat, endeavouring to collect his wandering senses. Like all men similarly circumstanced, with the first recurring pulse of self-constraint, he was inclined to look upon the late incident as a delusion. Scarcely had he time to encourage this thought, when a low but singularly deep voicethe voice of some one seated at his side-inquired if "the Count Obrenow had recovered from his sudden attack of the nerves?"

The person who made this inquiry, though sitting on a level with the Count, was obliged to stoop considerably in order to place his mouth close to the ear of the latter. His singular height was not, however, by any means his only personal distinction. His form was well proportioned, his features were regular though severe, his complexion, clear rather than pale, indicated an Asiatic origin; but that which riveted attention, and stamped the whole man with the impress of power, was the full, stern, penetrating eye which never glanced at an object, but looked it through and through. There were none who had not quailed under that fixed regard, even when there were no secrets to excite apprehension. The most innocent under its withering influence would as little have resisted it as they would have bandied looks with a tiger preparing for a spring.

Apparently the Count Obrenow entertained no such intention, for, without raising his eyes, and abandoning the attempt to recover his self-possession, he faltered out,

"It is in vain your Impe-"

"Hush!" interrupted his companion. "Recollect yourself; I am the Count Semowski-"

"The Count Se-"

Exactly so: but I little thought of meeting you here, still less of hearing of the alliance, I understand, you contemplate. That can hardly take place."

"Not if your Imp- that is, if the Count Semowski forbids it."

"Count, I have other views for you-at least for the present; there is much to be settled between us: frankly, I will tell you at once there is but one condition on which you can remain here; and, by the way, have you heard from your father lately?"

"Count Semowski is aware the Governor of Tobolsk has strict orders to intercept my father's correspondence."

"Of course of course; yet there are means, I have heard. Money will do much even in Siberia, and your father was certainly rich. A propos, Count, I congratulate you on the figure you are making here; your title, too, is well chosen, but now I fear you must drop the Chamberlainship. And this match-pray what sort of a person is Earl De Urston, and how came he to accept your pretensions ?"

"If it please your-that is, the Count Semowski must understand the Earl, who hates all foreigners, is persuaded I am a lineal descendant of some Irish chieftain, called O'Bryan or O'Brienne, or something of the sort, and-and his daughter, the Lady Anne-"

"Is persuaded you are all you choose to affirm yourself, of course. Ah! this is an excellent romance, and I am sorry to be obliged to interfere. Yet, perhaps," here the Count Semowski mused an instant; then suddenly turning his eyes full on his companion, he added, "by the way, you know the Jew Lazarus; Count, you must introduce me."

The gallant Alexis who had lately recovered a portion of his usual audacity, at the mention of this name, and the significant manner in which it was made, relapsed into his former servility, and mechanically answered, "Yes your-the Count Semowski is right. I have seen the Jew Lazarus. I know him-a little-"

"Then I was right; and, probably, am not wrong in supposing you know him more than a little. Count, I repeat you must introduce me, and then I will relieve you of a discreditable acquaintance. Harkye, sir," added the Count Semowski rising, but speaking in a low, stern voice," to-morrow at noon expect me, and we will visit M. Lazarus together. Do not stir out till I come, and cherish no foolish hope of escaping me. A person of your consequence must expect, at least for the present, some surveillance. Au revoir Count Alexis Obrenow."

At this moment the gavotte ceased; the circle broke up into a crowd that filled the rooms with conflicting tides, but high and conspicuous above Dukes, and Generals, and Ministers, the noble form of the Count Semowski might be seen advancing towards the boudoir where still sat the Lady Anne, her eyes closed, apparently in sleep, but ever and anon betraying by a pettish movement of the beautiful foot, that the mind was active, and the thoughts were uneasy.

The next morning the following paragraph appeared among the "Fashionable Intelligence" of the Morning Post.

"Considerable sensation was excited last night among the brilliant circle assembled at De Urston House, by the intelligence transpiring of the sudden arrival in London of a very exalted Foreign Personage. It was even rumoured that the individual in question