the best quarters in the towns, and carrying female hearts by storm. Upon this alarming occasion patriotism seemed to have inspired every heart, and all distinctions of rank and wealth were for the satisfied with their pastor, the quiet tenor of The only public amusements of the Borough were its assemblies, where youth indulged in the folly of dancing, and old age in that of cards; and where the great men of the place would occasionally honour the company, and create a delightful surprise, by popping in about the eleventh hour in top-boots and scarlet vests, and lead to the head of the coun try-dance the blushing modesty of seventeen, almost overpowered by the honour conferred. But it most frequently happened that the dance was opened by some lady of ton, who had lately returned from Edinburgh, and whose very soul sickened at the old hackneyed figures, and delighted and luxuriated in those of whose complicated evolutions she had acquired a knowledge in the metropolis. But, alas! we are not all equally gifted "great heights are hazardous for the weak head"-errors generally ensued among the uninitiated in the newly-imported mystery, one blunder produced another, till the performers, reeling about, and jostling against each other, were making what billiard-players denominate "the cannon," and it seemed as "Chaos had come again.' Hitherto the good people of the Borough had never been molested by a foreign foe, their only wars being civil ones; but at length their latent energies were called into action by a most alarming and unexpected event. During a severe snow-storm a French frigate, having on board a considerable number of troops, was wrecked upon the coast at no great distance from the Borough; and there being no military force of any description in the county, the citizens made a general turn-out; and a stirring sight it was to see them mustering upon the "Broad Street," in order to be drilled by an old gentleman, who, in his hot youth, had served his country at home, in a corps of Fencibles, which had marched in triumph from one end of the kingdom to the other, most gallantly scaling the hills, deploying into the valleys, taking possession of "Groom stood by noble, squire by knight;" The young the highest with the humblest. of purpose, and chivalrous feeling, the appear- an enemy. "A horrid front they form." "Shoulder arms!" exclaimed the captain, in a voice intended to resemble thunder; but the execution of the order was anything but simultaneous, and one man, it was observed, was still "standing at ease." Upon being challenged by the captain, and asked why he had not "shouldered" along with the rest, "What the deil's a' the haste," quoth he, canna ye wait till a body tak' a snuff?" This single circumstance will enable the reader to form a tolerably correct estimate of the attainment of the citizens in the art of war. Fortunately for themselves and their country their services were not required, in consequence of the arrival of a detachment of Volunteers from a neighbouring county, which had been sent for on the first alarm, to whom the poor Frenchmen, already half-dead with cold and hunger, surrendered themselves prisoners at discretion; and thus the cloud passed away, and the borough was restored to its usual state of tranquillity. At the time of which I speak there existed, and, for aught I know to the contrary, there may still exist, a more than usual proportion of elderly unmarried ladies. The cause of this melancholy fact I cannot pretend to explain, for many of them I have heard were great beauties in their youth. Taken as a body they were as free from the peculiarities incident to single blessedness as any other class of society; yet true it is, that a few of the sisterhood took | kind of youthful levity, that the very frisking such a warm interest in the characters and concerns of their fellow-citizens as had on several occasions well nigh set the town on fire; and such was their unquenchable hatred of scandal, that they would not for one moment allow it to sleep, or even to die in peace. At the head of this Suppression-of-vice Society was Miss Tabitha Primrose, a lady of a certain age, which, according to Byron, is of all ages the most uncertain. She had long made a dead halt at that of thirty, beyond which stage in the journey of life nothing could induce her to budge a single step. One of the slowest movements in nature is the approximation of the nose and chin, these neighbours requiring the greater part of a century to effect a meeting, by travelling over the short space which divides them in youth; and in Tabby's case they had gone over fully half the distance, pointing like the index of a clock to a pretty late hour-but all in vain. Suns and seasons might roll away-moons wax and wane-sands might run and shadows sail, till dials grew green and tresses gray-but amidst this moving scene Tabby remained immovable, in protracted youth, with a bloom of that blessed kind which never fades, and a wig that bade defiance to the "snows of time." Tabitha had been a great beauty in her youth, the evidence of which (as few people could speak of that period from their own recollection) rested on the best of all authority -her own, but having, it seems, had a tendency to corpulency, she had indulged rather too freely in the use of vinegar, to which ought probably to be ascribed a certain expression of sourness about the corners of her mouth, which she still retained. In common with all other fair ladies, she had been "beseeched and besieged" by a host of admirers; but, being remarkably fastidious, and perhaps not finding among her swains a perfect Sir Charles Grandison, and, moreover, the age of chivalry being past and gone, when men sighed seven years for a lady's smile, it somehow or other happened that Tabitha was left to "Waste her sweetness on the desert air." We have all heard of those wise ancients who wept when a child was born; but Tabby went a step beyond them, and, with a more prophetic philosophy of feeling, actually shed tears whenever she heard of a marriage; and, in the midst of her sorrow and pity for the unhappy bride, thanked Heaven for having preserved herself from such a fate. She was such a determined enemy to every of lambs seemed to displease her. Pure as new-fallen snow-severe as justice-and unerring as mathematical sequences-she stood alone-a woman without a weakness, and a very personification of prim propriety. "But who can stand envy?" or when did ever such superhuman excellence escape the breath of calumny?—against that even Tabitha's virtue was no protection; and there were not wanting ill-disposed persons who called her severe reprobation of derelictions from virtue downright scandal, and by whom the tears which she shed for young brides were shrewdly suspected to flow from the regret she felt at not being one herself. But to return. The evening entertainments were of that kind denominated "Tea and Turn-out,❞—a mode of treating one's friends, having the show of hospitality, but denying the power thereof. Tea and Turn-out!-gentle readers, only think of such a hoax-my blood yet runs cold at the thought—Tea and Turn-out! Early in the forenoon a maid-servant, all smiles and roses, would enter and present a gilt paper card, whereon the eye caught the words, "Compliments-company at tea-spend the evening," &c.—the last words seeming to insinuate a delicate hint of supper: but thus it is that our feelings are cruelly sported with, and hopes are excited which are never intended to be realized. In consequence of such promissory notes, how often have I risen from a comfortable fireside at home, have adjourned to a cold room above stairs, and dressed for supper, when, alas! supper was not dressed for me! The festivities of the evening commenced about six or seven o'clock, according to the rank of our entertainers; and as it seldom happened that any waiters were in attendance to hand about the tea, an excellent opportunity was afforded to our Lotharios of showing their attention to the ladies in that way; but in doing the thing with an air the consequence frequently was, that the fair ones received into their laps instead of their hands the elegant china vases, together with their scalding contents. Next were presented various kinds of rich sweet-bread, pleasant indeed to the eye, but, upon a nearer acquaintance, betraying an air of antiquity not altogether agreeable. As soon as the refreshments of the evening were over, the conversation became general, and occasionally particular: our absent friends were not forgotten, nor were their most private and delicate concerns overlooked. About nine o'clock a general rising took place, which, not being resisted on the part of our entertainers, we read our fate in each other's eyes, and made a simultaneous movement towards the door; whence, with illsuppressed chagrin, we descended into the street and made the best of our way home. Such was the nature of our evening pastime in the Borough at the time I first resided there; but returning after an absence of long years, "I looked and saw the face of things quite changed;" many old friends and old fashions had died, and among the rest "Tea and Turn-out" had given up the ghost, and better things, of which it was only the type and shadow, reigned in its place. Instead of that meagre mockery, the supper table, plethoric even to apoplexy, exhibited in beatific vision such varieties as the following:-A large round of boiled beef smothered among cabbage, through whose silvery canopy of mist appeared a smoked goose, a large mutton ham, a roast of pork, a dish of dogfish, and of welsh-rabbits melted in their own fat. The light meal was diluted by copious draughts of strong home-brewed ale, and the whole etherealized by several large bowls of rum-punch; after which the happy guests retired to rest, to enjoy those pleasant dreams which are the never-failing reward of such good living. In this way they managed matters at the time of my last visit to the Borough; but, alas! there is nothing permanent on earth except change; for I have lately been informed that "Supper and Turn-in" hath gone the way of "Tea and Turn-out." A great and goodly conversion hath taken place at their evening parties, where controversial divinity is the standing dish. Mutton hams, smoked geese, and welsh-rabbits, are superseded by knotty points of faith, still harder of digestion, and punch has given place to prayers. HE THAT LOVES A ROSY CHEEK. He that loves a rosy cheek, Kindle never-dying fires; THOMAS CAREW (1635). THE ADVENTURES OF PARSON SCHMOLKE AND THE SCHOOLMASTER BAKEL. FROM THE GERMAN OF AUGUSTUS F. LANGBEIN. "Where are we now? See nought appears I told you oft to shun the left, You've brought us here;-now save us both "Hic hæret aqua,' honoured sir, Trust now no more to me; "Oh that you and your Latin were With my distress and dread? But see! low in the valley gleams A light; O let us seek its beams!" "Cur non, mi Domine,' for there A mortal must abide; In such a place the cloven feet And tail would ne'er reside. On, quickly on! for now I think How sweet their potent ale will drink." Then, reeling, for the light they steer, These heroes of my strain; The hut is reach'd; a man appears "Indeed, to tell your honours true Of beds I've none to spare, Most piteously upon his paunch On straw couch wilt thou lie?""Sub sole nil perfectum est,"" Said Bakel-"here I'll take my rest.” "My dear, as soon as morning dawns, Oh how that bullet-round one will- Oh from this horrid murderous den "Proh dolor,' sir; but still there's hope, Your little paunch enlarge. "Yes! such a goose-quill thing as you Now Bakel used his eloquence But still there was a point to fix, Which first the leap should try; Each urged the other, and again Replied, "Oh no, not I." At last our friend the pedagogue Down like a bird did fly. He lighted, salva venia, Like dunghill cock he sprung: He sunk up to the waist, nor could While Bakel cursed and scampered round, Meantime the roof poured torrents down On the poor parson's naked crown. Now Bakel found all efforts vain To ope the dunghill's side; And though his friend there still had lain, No help could he provide. At last a powerful lever's found; With it he heaves him from the ground. But ah, how adverse still their fate! Thus fruitless all these dangers run The dreadful cannibals to shun! Now they prepare their hearts to sing It was a hovel near a shade Where cattle used to feed. It chanced that in that hole, his swine And in the garden with their snouts "Oh think, dear Bakel, that the grave "Ah yes, how truly says the bard, Si hora mortis ruit Is fit Irus subito Qui modo Cræsus fuit." Thus spent they all the hours of night Till dawn the little court did light. Now hideously the door did creak, And mutter'd as he rubb'd away, "Ye black ones, ye shall die to-day!" Souls that love each other, Still gives back, and multiplies S.W. AND BY W. W. [Captain Frederick Marryat, R.N., C.B., born in London, 10th July, 1792; died in Norfolk, 2d August, 1848. As a naval officer, "he was brave, zealous, intelligent, and even thoughtful, yet active in the performance of his duties," was the verdict of the late Earl of Dundonald (Lord Cochrane). As the inventor of the code of signals for the merchant vessels of all nations Captain Marryat has earned the gratitude of all seafarers; but it is as a novelist that he is most distinguished. He was thirty-seven when his first work appeared-Frank Mildmay, and twenty-four others followed in rapid succession. It will suffice to mention The King's Own; Newton Forster; Midshipman Basy; Jacob Faithful; Percival Keene; Snarly Yow; The Phantom Ship; Joseph Rustbrook, or the Poacher; Valerie; Diary in America; The Settlers in Canada; The Pacha of Many Tales, &c. "His stories of the sea are unquestionably the first in their peculiar line."-Dublin University Magazine. Christopher North said "he would have stood in the first class of sea-scribes had he written nothing but Peter Simple." Various editions of his works are issued by Routledge and Sons, by whose permission the following tale is quoted from Olla Podrida. The biography of Captain Marryat, edited by his daughter Florence Marryat-herself a novelist-was published in 1872.] Jack Littlebrain was, physically considered, as fine grown, and moreover as handsome a boy as ever was seen, but it must be acknowledged that he was not very clever. Nature is, in most instances, very impartial; she has given plumage to the peacock, but, as every ones knows, not the slightest ear for music. Throughout the feathered race it is almost invariably the same; the homeliest clad are the finest songsters. Among animals the elephant is certainly the most intelligent, but, at the same time, he cannot be considered as a beauty. Acting upon this well-ascertained principle, nature imagined that she had done quite enough for Jack when she endowed him with such personal perfection; and did not consider it was at all necessary that he should be very clever; indeed, it must be admitted, not only that he was not very clever, but (as the truth must be told) remarkably dull and stupid. However, the Littlebrains have been for a long while a well-known, numerous, and influential |