Page images
PDF
EPUB

side of the way he liked." When they got to the top, it was found that Mr. Fox had seen thirteen cats, and the Prince not one. The royal personage asked for an explanation of the apparent miracle, and Mr. Fox said, "Your Royal Highness took, of course, the shady side of the way, as most agreeable; I knew that the sunny side would be left to me, and cats always prefer the sunshine."

A CELEBRATED Oculist, after performing the operation of couching an old woman, inquired if she could read a book of a certain sized print, to which she replied in the negative; another coat of film was to be displaced; when, just as the operator was about to resume, she cried with admirable naivete, Mayhap it be, Sir, 'cause I never larnt, I be no scholard."

THE life of William the First, of the House of Orange, was preserved by the sagacity of his lap-dog. Some Spanish troopers having penetrated into his tent while he was reposing, the little animal jumped on the couch, and scratched the face of his royal master till he was roused to a sense of his danger. When William fell, at length, a victim to assassination, the dog refused food, pined, and died; and on the magnificent tomb of the Prince in the cathedral at Delft, it is represented sleeping at his feet. Lines written in pencil at the back of 'Paine's Rights of Man,' which a Friend had left open by accident.

Paine ?

Hath Woman then no rights, presumptuous
Is Man thy idol, arrogant and vain ?
Woman be mine, but still on reason's plan
Her rights I raise above the rights of Man.
'Tis her's to rule with absolute controul
Each rude excess of his too lordly soul;
Yet rule with such a just, persuasive sway,
That Man shall be both proud and happy to

obey,

Rev. Wm. Cowper.

A VERY SINGULAR FACT.-Insects are actuated by feelings somewhat similar to those possessed by the higher animal-they rob and spoil, defend their homes, are jealous, revengeful, and disputative, and war in armies. Thus bees, if the meat of one hive be spent, will assail their next neighbours, with intent to rob and spoil them of their provisions: the white ants have a portion of their community set apart for the duties of war, and they exhibit the most perfect form of insect tactics. Ant-battles have been recorded from the oldest times.

AFFECTION OF PIGEONS.-A man, set to watch a field of peas, which had been much preyed upon by pigeons, shot an old cock pigeon which had long

been an inhabitant of the farm. His mate, around whom he had for many a year cooed, and nourished from his own crop, and assisted in rearing numerous young ones, immediately settled on the ground by his side, and showed her grief in the most expressive manner. The labourer took up the dead bird, and tied it to a short stake, thinking that it would frighten away the other depredators. In this situation, however, his partner did not forsake him, but continued, day after day, walking slowly round the stick, The kindhearted wife of the bailiff of the farmı at last heard of the circumstance, and immediately went to afford what relief she could to the poor bird. She told me that, on arriving at the spot, she found that the hen bird was much exhausted and that she had made a circular beaten track round the dead pigeon, making, now and then, a little spring towards him. On the removal of the dead bird the hen returned to the dove-cot.

GENEROSITY may sometimes be carried to so great an extent, that, if it be not a fault, it is at least a culpable weakness: such it is when we make those sacrifices to others which produce unhappiness to ourselves, much more than counterbalancing the pleasure resulting from the consciousness of our having contributed to the happiness of another,

ANECDOTE OF A FARMER.-An extraordinary instance of avarice and peculation has lately been discovered in France. Mons. Foscue, one of the farmers general of the province of Languedoc, who had amassed a considerable wealth by grinding the faces of the poor within his province, and every other means, however low, base, or cruel, by which he rendered himself universally hated, was one day ordered by the government to raise a considerable sum; upon which, as an excuse for not complying with the demand, he pleaded extreme poverty: but fearing lest some of the inhabitants of Languedoc should give information to the contrary, and his house should be searched, he resolved on hiding his treasure in such a manner, as to escape the most strict examination. He dug a kind of cave in his wine cellar, which he made so large and deep, that he used to go down a ladder to it; at the entrance was a door with a spring-lock on it, which on shutting would fasten of itself. Very lately Mons. Foscue was missing; diligent search was made after him in every

place; the ponds were drawn, and every method which human imagination could suggest, was taken for finding him; but all in vain. In a short time after his house was sold, and the purchaser beginning either to rebuild it, or make some alterations in it, the workmen discovered a door in the cellar, with a key in the lock, which he ordered to be opened, and on going down, they found Monsieur Foscue lying dead on the ground, with a candlestick near him, but no candle in it, which he had eat; and on searching farther, they found the vast wealth which he had amassed. It is supposed that when Mons. Foscue went into his cave, the door by some accident shut after him, and being out of the call of any person, he perished for want of food. He had gnawed the flesh off both his arms, as is supposed for subsistence. Thus did this miser die in the midst of his treasure, to the scandal of himself, and to the prejudice of the state.

We are often prone to doubt even the object most dear to us; selfish in our attachments, we expect the undivided love of those to whom we are attached, and the merest trifles will often excite our most torturing jealousies and fears.

AFFECTION is the monster that can cloud the beauty of the finest form, and prevent the qualities of the noblest mind. Surely then, if woman did but

see it in its naked and sickening deformity, she would shrink from imitatingnay, from the very thought of an object so loathsome, as she would flee at sight of the poisoned basilisk.

VESALIUS prepared the first skeleton that lent regular assistance to the progress of science, and suffered the persecution generally allotted to the early champions of truth. When he began to dissect human bodies, he was considered by the people as an impious and cruel man; and before he could practise publicly, he was obliged to get a decision in his favour from the Salamanca divines. They would not let him settle in France, but the Republic of Venice gave him a professor's chair at Padua, where he dissected openly, and taught anatomy seven years. He was but eighteen when he published his celebrated book La Fabrique du Corps Humain. The first complete skeleton he presented to the University of Bale; where it was lately to be seen. Vesalius (Andrew Vesal) was shipwrecked on the isle of Zante, in the year 1564, and was famished to death in the deserts! His body was found by a goldsmith of his acquaintance, who happened to land there not long after, and by this man buried.

EPIGRAM.

On her in soft beauty shew the lily and rose: True-the former her cheek-the latter her

nose.

Diary and Chronology.

Wednesday, April 11.

Sun rises 55m. aft. 5-Sets 47m. aft. 6.

Thursday, April 12.

First Anniversary of the death of that eminent, and ever to be lamented divine, the Rev. Basil Wood, ætat 70; author of numerous popular tracts and discourses,

Friday, April 18.

CAMBRIDGE TERMS ENDS.

Saturday, April 14.

OXFORD TERMS ENDS.

Sunday, April 15.

Lessons for the Day.-9 ch. of Exodus, morn. 10 ch. of Exodus, even.

PALM SUNDAY.-In the missals, this day is denominated Dominica in ramis palmarum. It is a commemoration of our Lord's triumphal entry into Jerusalem, recorded in Matthew xxi, Mark xi, and Luke xix. Palm Sunday was also called Dominica Magna, the great Sunday,' in reference to the following week. It was formerly the custom in some of the northern parts of England, for the young men and maids who receive the sacrament, to walk after dinner in the corn fields, and repeat some forms of blessing the corn and

fruits of the earth.-About ten o'clock at night, on the eve of Palm Sunday, the unwashed and lean artificers' of the eastern part of London, proceed in a body, often amounting to several hundreds, (many of them accompanied by their wives and children), to Sluice-house, at Hornsey, where, and in the adjoining fields, they carouse till the break of day, murdering the sleep' of all the faithful lieges in the neighbourhood with their obstreperous and John Bullish rejoicements. When moruing dawns, they do not scruple to commit sundry trespasses on the grounds of the nobility and gentry,' collect their palm branches,' and in 'maudlin mood,' quarrelling with their spouses and castigating their turbulent brats, they roll their weary way to dirt and wretchedness, not failing to insult every respectable person they meet en route.

[ocr errors]

Monday, April 16.

·

EASTER TERM COMMENCES,

Tuesday, April 17.

Those who feel interested in astronomical occurrences, will derive much pleasure in telescopic observation of the fixed stars about this period, for which the fine nights are peculiarly favourable.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][graphic]

Illustrated Article.

THE MERCHANT OF LYONS.

FOR THE OLIO.

JACQUES St. Julien and Suzette de Vallois, the father of the former, who was one of the principal merchants of Lyons, had seen with unbounded satisfaction, that his son was passionately enamoured with the amiable daughter of one of his oldest friends. It was a match in every way suitable for him. Monsieur de Vallois was a man of considerable wealth, though not engaged in commerce; he had at first been much averse to the union taking place, on account of the wild and reckless disposition of the young St. Julien; and strange accounts had reached Lyons, of his proceedings during a two years residence at Paris; but upon his return to Lyons, the charms of the fair Suzette had so worked upon him, that his irre'gularities were abandoned, and he sank from the gay and dissipated man VOL. IX.

See p. 258

of fashion, into the the staid and industrious merchant; and it is but justice to him to say, that it was not outwardly alone, that he had become an altered man. Some scenes in which he had borne a part at Paris, and his narrow escapes from infamy and destruction, had determined him to make a strong effort to effect a total change in his habits and dispositions; and the presence of his dear Suzette had strengthened these resolutions, until their practice had shewn him, that during the eighteen months he had been at Lyons, after his return from Paris, he had been for the first time in his life, a happy and contented man. There was but one thing galled him, and that was, any allusion to his residence at Paris. It was clear there was something connected with it, which he could not drive from his remembrance, and since it seemed sensibly to annoy him, all mention of it was studiously avoided.

The change that had taken place, removed the only objection entertained by 239

Monsieur de Vallois to the marriage, who willingly gave his consent to the union taking place; and on the appointed day, youhg St. Julien led to the altar the fair and blooming Suzette, and in the face of Heaven, they interchanged their vows of constaney and fidelity. Jacques St. Vallois felt that he was now a truly happy man; possessed of the being he so fondly loved, enjoying the sweet communion of reciprocal affection, unclouded by the discontent of poverty, his course of life flowed on as gently and as calmly as the summer's brook that musically ripples on, without impediment.

He was one day sitting with his wife in their dining-room, conning over some circumstances of domestic life, looking upon the busy groups that thronged the Quay, and at times, upon the merry laughing tenants of the boats that shot along the Rhone's swift stream, whose loud joyous laugh gave token of their presence, even when the gloom of the closing summer's evening had began to envelope them in its obscurity. He was holding one of his wife's hands, listlessly playing with her fingers, and felt that he was enjoying one of those moments of life, when the lightness of our spirits bids us feel for a short space, a sensation of true and pure happiness;-the door opened, and the servant announced a gentleman, who wished to speak with Monsieur "St. Julien."

"Did he mention his name?"

"He said his name was not of consequence, though his business was." "Oh, shew him into the countinghouse, some of the clerks will attend to him."

"I wished to have done so, Sir; but he said he was no merchant, and that his business was with you alone."

66 Well, shew him in, since he is desirous of seeing me.'

[ocr errors]

The person advanced; he was a man of middle age, with a countenance of a dark and sinister expression, and his clothes, which were covered with dust, shewed that he had just completed a long journey. After cautiously looking to see the door was closed, he approached towards de Vallois, and gazing at him, said

"You have not forgotten me, have you ?"

"Good Heavens! it cannot be the Chevalier Arnaud ?"

"The same."

Why is this? why Sir am I to be hunted down in this manner, do you

again seek to entangle me in your meshes ?"

"Softly, softly, my good Sir; you are alarming this lady without cause.”

"Suzette, my love, will you leave us a few moments? It is long since I have seen this gentleman, and we have something of importance to speak about."

His wife obeyed with reluctance, pausing at the door, to say they were engaged to spend the evening at her father's, and it was almost time they were gone. She scarce noticed the Chevalier's attention in opening the door as she passed through, and left him and her husband together.

66

Arnaud," ," said St. Julien, advancing; "you have broken the compact betwixt us; when I furnished you with money, to begin the world as an honest man, you promised never again to obtrude yourself upon me.

"I did."

"

"Nay, more; you professed gratitude to me, for doing that you had no right to expect."

"I did so, and felt it."

"Felt it," echoed the other, with a bitter laugh.

"Yes, I say again, felt it."

"And yet, yet you shew it, by breaking the only promise I exacted from you."

"Listen to me, and I will explain my conduct. You, of course, remember that night at Paris, when having lost at the Salons far more than you were enabled to pay, we passed a forged Bill of Exchange."

"Oh! merciful heaven! after all the anguish I have suffered, must I still have my crimes thrown in my face by my very associates."

"Be calm, and listen : you remember too, it was a bill at three years' date, and that a few days after we had passed it-you gave me the money to take it up.' "I did! I did!"

[ocr errors]

"Of course you did, and I don't deny it; and I was going to the person to do so, but somehow or other, passing by the Salons, I just looked in to see what they were about, and-andI lost the money before-Í knew I had been playing-I was afraid to tell you the circumstance, so I said the bill had been taken up, and that I had destroyed it-but it was all a fiction."

"Ha, ha, ha," said the agonised St. Julien, 66 now you are laughing at me; come, laugh and say it is all a jest."

"I wish it were, but the worst part of the story is, that the bill being due,

has been discovered to be a forgery, and is now in the possession of the police, who are tracing it through the hands of the different holders until they will come upon you; now, as I felt I owed you a debt of gratitude, I have travelled day and night from Paris, to give you notice to save yourself."

"Then am I a lost and ruined man!" "Not at all, the Frontiers of Savoy are but a few leagues from hence, and there you are in safety." "I will not fly." "Not fiy ?"

"No!"

"Are you mad?"

"If I am not, I soon shall be."
"This is folly."

"Call it madness, desperation, or what you will. Oh, thou villain, you taught me first to play-led me on step by step, squandered my money, and then plunged me in the lowest depth of crime. I am lost for ever," saying which, he paced the room to and fro with quick and agitated steps, until a gentle knocking at the door attracted his attention, and his wife's voice, saying

"St. Julien, shall you be much longer? I am dressed, and only waiting until you are ready."

"Longer! Heaven only knows. I will follow you to your father's-do not wait for me."

"I cannot go without you," replied his wife. "I'll wait up stairs," and she slowly turned away.

[ocr errors]

"Well, St. Julien," said Arnaud, are you determined not to seek your safety in flight?-come, think better of it, and be guided by me."

"Yes, I have before trusted to your guidance, and what has been the result: I am a lost and ruined man-no, I will stand and face the danger. My reputation-my name-all blasted and destroyed. Oh! guilt! guilt! when once a man has been contaminated by thee, thou wilt not be shaken off by him, but with the course of time, com'st rushing on to overwhelm him."

Well, I can see no use in moralizing; I shall not consider myself safe until I am at Chambery; I have horses waiting at hand-so, for the last time, will you accompany me?"

"I will not."

"Then, fare thee well," said the chevalier, leaving the room, muttering to himself about the folly of staying for the police, when he might so easily gain the start of them.

The night brought neither rest nor

sleep to St. Julien; his wife, who perceived the agony of mind under which he laboured, forbore to question him; she saw that she could not alleviate his sufferings, but determined in the morning to see his father, and mention the circumstance of the preceding evening to him, not doubting, that if any thing were wrong, it was in his power to rectify it.

As St. Julien ascended the stairs in the morning, he was informed a gentleman was waiting in the breakfast room to speak to him; as he entered, he perceived a person dressed in black, who rose to return his salutation.

"I am speaking I believe to Mons. St. Julien ?"

"The same, sir.”

"I am sorry to say my business is of an unpleasant nature: I am the commissary of the town, and have this morning received orders from Paris, to arrest you. I am afraid there must be some mistake, but as your name and address are so particularly described, I have no alternative but obeying my instructions."

"Heaven's will be done," said St. Julien, passing his hand across his eyes, and trying to suppress a rising sigh. "Oh that this had happened, ere I had mixed my wife's fate with mine. Suzette! Suzette! I did not wrong thee willingly; as Heaven knows all, I have striven to be an honest and an upright man; but the crimes of former days are marshalled against me, and cry out for justice."

The commissary turned away, to avoid hearing the sentence uttered by St. Julien ; "my instructions Sir," said he, "are simply to arrest you; they do not state the cause, but merely say, further instructions will be sent; in the absence of these, I do not wish to act harshly; from the known respectability of your family, I am willing to run some risks, if you will promise me not to leave the town, I will not alarm your family by taking you from them, until I hear from Paris, that such a proceeding is absolutely necessary-have I your promise?"

"This is indeed, kind; I can safely promise you, since iny inclinations do not prompt me to avoid any charge that may be brought against me.

The commissary rose to withdraw, after this assurance, expressing his belief that the charge against him arose from his having incautiously uttered some expressions against the Govern ment, and which a little explanation might set to-rights.

« PreviousContinue »