important services. He flatters him with an idea that he is destined to lead the councils of the nation; and then offers himself as his cat's-paw to secure the co-operation of one of the most bitter enemies of his faction. The Marquis gives a sort of cabinet dinner, at which his young toad-eater makes a very silly speech, and is much complimented for his genius. Then, there is a pet lamb of the Leadenhall press, (a Mrs. Felix Lorraine) who abhors Vivian Grey, and tries to thwart his views; and who, after an ineffectual attempt to poison him, and clinging round his neck and " shrieking" like a cassowary," breaks a blood-vessel in sheer spite, and kicks the bucket in the most approved style of modern romance. The Marquis of Carabas discovers the perfidy of Grey, and cuts him; after having designated him a sycophant, a liar, and a scoundrel.

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The attempts of Mr. D'Israeli to be always fashionable are abundantly ludicrous. Like most pretenders, he dwells upon those little points of etiquette, with which he has been made acquainted second-hand, in a manner which satisfactorily proves how little he is accustomed to keep the " good society" about which he is so perpetually raving. Persons who mix in fashionable circles generally, do not notice those little distinctions, which will naturally enough strike individuals who are wholly unaccustomed to them. But we have neither space nor patience to pursue our notice of this catch-penny further. Mr. D'Israeli promises a continuation, and, in the meantime will, if he is industrious, turn a penny, although not an honest one, by giving persons the option of buying themselves out of his book.

In a twopenny weekly publication, called the Star Chamber, edited by the author of Vivian Grey, and commenced for the purpose of breaking the hearts and destroying the fame of a large proportion of our most popular living writers, Mr. D'Israeli himself publishes what he calls a Key to Vivian Grey. We shall have a few words to say on the subject of this periodical in our next number. After hiring men to walk about town with large placards on their backs, intimating that every living author would be satirized in its pages; boasting how much his work was feared and admired; and expressing a confident hope that it would eventually influence the empire ;-Mr. D'Israeli finding that the Star Chamber was not likely to survive many weeks, gave the thing the coup de grace, as we suppose, to put it out of its misery. As it had scarcely circulated a hundred copies during its nine weeks existence, the Oxford Street coterie were of course something handsome out of pocket. But then they are patriots, and having denounced Mrs. Hemans, L. E. L., Barry Cornwall, Alaric Watts, Bernard Barton, Milman, Hogg, Hannah More, Campbell &c.; and eulogised Mr. Leigh, Mr. Knowles, and Samuel Rogers, think they have rendered an eminent service to their country. It is hinted that all the parties satirized have taken to their beds, and are never likely to arise again; but for this we cannot pretend to vouch. The young Israelite of the Star Chamber is sadly annoyed, that whilst "L. E. L. and Alaric Watts are in daily demand, Samuel Rogers should have been completely shelfed!" It is certainly a subject of deep regret that the public should evince so little taste; but what is to be done? Would he have Mr. Watts and Miss Landon, cut each other's throats, because

they are read and purchased, whilst he, the "NEW UNKNOWN," as the author of Vivian Grey calls himself, loses 1207. by a contemptible catchpenny in nine weeks? But it is well that on this occasion he is himself the loser. By dint of his own assurance, and his father's acquaintance with Murray, this spark got himself appointed editor of the Representative on its first publication; everybody (and Mr. Murray to his cost) knows with what success. The immense pretensions with which this journal was ushered into public notice, the liberality of the proprietor, and his connection with so many persons of sterling talent and sound political information, naturally gave rise to lofty anticipations on the part of the public; and such was the sensation created by its announcement, that had it been managed with the most ordinary tact and ability, it would ere this have become one of the most valuable newspaper properties in the metropolis. However, the influence of the elder Mr. D'Israeli with Mr. Murray, and the feverish inpatience of his son to seize the editorial reins, induced the Emperor of the West to invest the ambitious newspaper Phæton with the "purple." The first few numbers of the paper completely dispelled the illusion which had been formed respecting it. It was indeed a flourish of trumpets, and enter Tom Thumb. In little more than a fortnight the Representative was damned past all redemption; and the editor after such a display of puppyism, ignorance, impudence, and mendacity, as have seldom been exhibited under similar circumstances, was deposed amid the scoffs and jeers of the whole Metropolitan literary world; for inflated with his newly-acquired honours he could not forbear boasting of his induction to the office from which he was thus speedily and degradingly ejected. Burning with shame, disappointment, and vexation, he determined to become a satirist; and having a pretty tolerable acquaintance with the lady's-maids, footmen, and under-butlers of several persons of" fashion about town," he set himself to ferret out family secrets, previous to his putting the finishing stroke to Vivian Grey. To prepare the public mind for its reception, and vent his invidious rancour on the numerous living writers who had been more successful than himself, he started the trumpery weekly publication already referred to. The thing was too blackguard for Mr. Colburn's digestion. He accordingly got it published for him by a person who had no publishing fame to lose; with what success its speedy demise will best explain.

Having heard that several horsewhips were preparing for him, Mr. D'Israeli had the meanness to call upon various persons who have been introduced in Vivian Grey, and deny, upon his honour as a gentleman, that he was the author of the book. To mention an instance within our own knowledge, he went in this spirit of poltroonery to a distinguished artist at whom he had sneered in his pages, and distinctly disclaimed all participation in the work. Our readers will form a pretty correct notion of this person's pretensions to the character to which he aspires, when we mention upon "indisputable authority" that HE IS THE AUTHOR, and that he has himself told more than one individual that he is. No one knows better than Mr. Murray who has written Vivian Grey; since that gentleman might have published it if he had not already had so complete a specimen of the author's abilities in his Representative.

It was,

eight month's residence, I heard but of three instances of fatal violence, and they occurred in the midst of the unrestrained riot of the Carnival.

No bands of Cyprians are allowed in Florence to parade the streets or piazzas, a very great credit to the police of the Tuscan capital; the absence of this nuisance is probably the reason why there is no place where women may walk at all times with so little risk of insult.

The Florentine gentry are a poor-looking race, their want of dignity is quite surprising; the women, generally speaking, are greatly superior; and, judging from a few amiable examples, seem very capable of becoming good wives and good mothers; one thing is certain, those who are so are held in particular esteem, their conduct is applauded even by those who walk" in the primrose path of dalliance," and every one is fond of expatiating on their merits. I cannot think the Italian women are envious or scandalous; it is true they are not fond of admitting each other's beauty, but I never heard any thing like detraction from one of them. It is very disagreeable to see the men hug and kiss each other in the streets, and play and fondle like kittens; it is not uncommon to witness such a rencontre between a couple of rude and ragged artizans, all black and grim from Vulcan's forge; this unbecoming practice does not seem to ascend above the lower classes.

There exists a society in Florence illustrative of the amiable disposition of the government; it is called the Misericordia, and includes all ranks, from the grand-duke downwards; when these associations are in procession, they wear a most lugubrious and appalling appearance; the dress is a black surtout, with a hood or cowl of the same colour, with holes cut for the eyes or mouth: no one can be recognised under this frightful disguise. If a casualty happens, if a man is hurt by any common chance, if he has a fit, the first of the Misericordia who perceives the accident rings a little bell, and immediately any of the fraternity who may be within hearing flock to the summons, it is their business to lend the sufferer all the aid in their power; they lay him, whether dead or living, on a bier covered with a light pall; if poor and destitute, they carry him to their own hospital, where he is watched and attended with the utmost skill and tenderness till his recovery. If he dies, he is decently buried at the expense of the institution; if he is in good circumstances, he is carried home to his friends. It happens frequently, that the first nobles in Florence, and some of the poorest individuals, are engaged in carrying the same bier. You seldom walk in Florence without meeting one of these dismal processions. I have met two or three on the same morning.

M. H.

THE WEDDING EXCURSION.

Grumio.-Is the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept; the serving-men in their new fustians, their white stockings; and every officer his wedding garment on?-the carpets laid, and every thing in order?

Curtis. All ready; and therefore I pray thee, news?

Grumio.-First, know, my horse is tired; my master and mistress fallen out.

Shakspeare. THE wedding day had arrived, and all was bright and auspicious. The morning dawned without a cloud; the flowers shone in the sunshine as if brides themselves; the trees in their new foliage fluttered in the breeze like so many bridegrooms; and the birds sung as blithely as a band of wedding musicians. Within doors the scene was equally exhilirating. There were decorated rooms, well-dressed company, tables covered with delicacies-silk, smiles, and civility, on all sides. The matron manager of the bridal preparations knew well the importance of wedding-day arrangements; and, to use the expression common to shews of every kind, the whole "went off with great spirit." Precisely at the proper moment, the bride, veiled like a nun, but robed as for a ball, was supported into the room; company, carriages, and clergyman, were religiously punctual; the day was lovely; the crowd of spectators sufficient; the bridegroom made no blunder about the ring; the bride articulated the responses; the procession returned without accident; the company sat down to breakfast;—and again, precisely at the proper moment, the bride retired to put on a travelling dress and take leave of her mother. Nothing could be better managed.

But no one, however gay, however worldly, could go through such a series of ceremonies without emotion; and when the gauzes and satins were removed, and the heroine was arrayed to leave her father's house, which was never more to be re-entered as a home, for a few minutes she forgot that she was a bride, and burst into tears.

"Now, dear Miss, don't take on so-what's done can't be undone.I dare say it is all for the best," said her attendant, the nurse of her childhood; "here are you, the prettiest creature eyes ever saw-not that you are half so pretty to me as when I had you a baby in long coats all to myself,- —now a woman grown, turning out into the troublesome world: and how will you ever keep house, and manage servants— lack a day--I hardly know whether to laugh or cry!

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Nurse," said the lady mother, recalling the affectionate creature to the more important concerns of the present moment, "how can you harrass this dear child's feelings-go and see that her dressing case is placed properly in the carriage." The attendant left the room, and the speaker proceeded to comfort the "mourning bride" after her own fashion. "Now, my dear love, do compose yourself. What is to become of me, if you give way to your feelings in this manner? positively your eyes are so red, I am quite ashamed. Only think how few leave home with such happy prospects: I shall always be near to comfort and advise you in all your troubles; and you will have a most delightful excursion. Hark! I hear the carriage drawing up. Now, my dearest

C

love, don't let me have to blush for you at the last; so well as you behaved through the ceremony; no trembling, no tears, no nonsense of any kind; but let me give you one piece of advice, love,—when you return, don't let Tomkins lay a finger on your hair; I was quite shocked when we were in church to see what a friz he had made it."

“Oh, mamma! don't, pray don't talk so;-what signify curls or any thing else at a time like this," replied her daughter, surveying the room with an air of melancholy, partly real, and partly affected. "I never expected to suffer so much at leaving home-I fear I have done a foolish thing I am changing a certainty for an uncertainty-even the chairs and tables seem to know that I am going-and the poor lookingglass that I have dressed at so often——. The fair speaker was overcome by her reminiscences, and had recourse to silence and her scent-box. "Mary Anne," replied the matron, making use of the looking-glass for the practical purpose of arranging some of her numerous bows and curls, "Mary Anne, this is neither behaving like a sensible girl, nor a good daughter; and I count it perfectly insulting to poor dear George, and exceedingly ungrateful to your father and myself

She was here interrupted by the entrance of the bride's-maid, wild with present honour, and prospective pleasure. She had at first voted most warmly in favour of Cheltenham as the scene of the wedding excursion, but the bridegroom having with equal consideration and good taste assigned her a companion in office, a charming young man, inasmuch as he was in uniform, and unmarried, she was now perfectly contented that they should journey to the Lakes.

"What! not ready yet!" was her exclamation on entering the room, "and the carriage waiting, and the luggage fastened on—and George asking for you every instant. Oh, my dear, what is the good of making such a fuss-if you were going to die you could but be unhappy you know; come, take my arm, and let me set you an example; there,-never saw you look so well,—never ! We shall have a charming excursion; I seem as if I had known Captain B— ten years; now, no more tears, I beg-every one has been paying you such compliments, and George is so proud of you, and I have been talking about you to those Dickenses till they are ready to die with spite!"

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•Thus re-assured, the bride suffered herself to be comforted; and she was again led into the drawing-room, the very model of graceful resignation. To have looked at her, none but the most uncharitable would have supposed that she herself had ever entertained the slightest wish to become a bride. Love, marriage, and decoration, might all have been the result of mere accident and surprise. Her mother consigned her to her husband as the "best of daughters;" and he of course received her as an invaluable treasure." Every one came forward to say something equally appropriate and delightful, till it appeared that-so suitable, so auspicious, so every way happy a union had never occurred in the annals of matrimony. At length the bride with becoming slowness ascended the carriage, the bride's-maid having less dignity to support moved after her at a quicker pace, the gentlemen took their appointed stations,-heads were bowed, and handkerchiefs displayed,— the carriage drove off,-and thus commenced the first act of the WEDDING EXCURSION.