"you will be charmed with my beautiful and gentle Lucille."

that?"

"Your own daughter?" exclaimed Paul, greatly surprised. "Yes I thought you might have been aware of "Not I," replied Paul. "But what then! I shall love all that belongs to you, dear Lucille; and we shall be happy, us three, I make no doubt, as people in a fairy tale."

Precisely one week from that day, Paul aud Lucille were married; and a very happy, prosperous ménage that at Numero 13, Rue des Capuchins, proved for a considerable time; adversity had greatly improved Madame Verdot, than whom a more kind, prudent, notable, industrious wife could scarcely be. She was very soon able to manage the business, and guide the house much better than her husband could pretend to do, and everybody said that Paul obtained a jewel of a partner. He thought so himself; the brightest and most precious in the world-but for one flaw therein, which, in his eyes, gradually overgrew and dimmed its radiance. Lucille was, he felt, a dissembler in one important particular at least the child whom she kept in such rigorous seclusion-always appearing restless and agitated if even he addressed a few words to her! What honest cause could there be for that? His grandmother's warning of the deceptive, impenetrable character of the Borlase family constantly recurred to his mind, spite of himself. Then the child who appeared to be about six years of age, did not in the slightest degree resemble either of her reputed parents. They had both olive complexions, and dark hair and eyes, while the young Lucille was a beautiful blonde. with finely-chiselled patrician features-"Like," Paul would sometimes passionately murmur, "like the haughty impress of himself with which a haughty aristocrat might stamp with shame an honest family." Worse than all, it came to Paul's knowledge that his wife had received several letters through a private channel, with respect to which she would only, when questioned, say they came from a relative of her daughter's, and did not in the slightest degree concern any one else, certainly not her husband. All this had an evil effect upon Paul Verdot's habits. He began to frequent much more than he ought to have done a wine shop near the Pont Neuf, kept by one Bontemps, and this led of course to fresh altercations with his wife. One morning after a late breakfast, during which he had listened in moody silence to his wife's earnest remonstrances upon his growing habits of intemperance, he raised his pale, almost haggard face, from the hands in which it had been buried, and looking at her with something of sad sternness, said :"Lucille, when we married, I gave you everything: I do not mean alone my worldly substance though that was considerable, and has been since, as you know, more yours than mine-I gave you all-my heart, my confidence, my every thought was and is open and plain to you. You cannot say the same, Lucille; and you must know it is the weight of the accursed secret you so jealously guard, that is sinking me in the abyss of low vice which I abhor as much as you do."

"What accursed secret? Surely"The child!" cried Paul, starting to his feet, and addressing his wife with passionate and imploring voice and gesture. "Tell me in what way it is connected with you-who the mysterious correspondent of yours is; let me know the worst if worst there be. I will bear anything for your sake, beloved Lucille, even shame.—if you will be but frank and candid with your husband.”

"Shame!" repeated the wife, rallying with the sting of the word. "How dare you address such a word to me! I will tell you nothing.'

"Then I am a lost man!" exclaimed Paul; and seizing his hat he rushed out of the house, and in a few minutes was seated in the wine-shop. He was still there when evening fell,-for the month was January, and the weather unusually dark and cold-and had been drinking freely all day, when a message arrived from Madame Verdot who wished to speak with him without delay. Paul rose sullenly and followed the messenger home. The establishment he found was closed, the work-people dismissed, and his wife dressed as if going out. She was very pale, and seemingly excited, but her manner was unusually kind and carressing. "Paul," she said, laying her hand on his arm as he fell into a chair, "I am going out,-I and the child: a

"To-morrow I shall know all, you promise?"

fiacre is waiting for us at the back gate, and I shall been in the slightest degree diminished by his wife's
not probably return for several hours." The husband revelation, to which he only faintly replied by saying,
made no reply, and she went on: "I have given Jean- “Go on-go on. What more?"
nette leave to go home, and I hope, therefore, you will "What more? Parbleu, that surely is enough!
not go out again. And Paul," added the wife, kissing There is nothing else to say that I know of, except that
his forehead, "I feel I have been too much to blame for the Chevalier Mendon, a friend of the count's, who has
having any concealments from you, and I promise you been living perdu, not far from the back of our premi-
that to-morrow you shall know all."
ses, and who has frequently slept in the stable, un-
known to you, when apprehensive he was beset, will,
I fear, find it difficult to get off, as the count informed
me pursuers had obtained a hint of his hiding-place. I
thought it possible he might have sought shelter here
last night, and that was one reason I sent everybody
away, and asked you to stop at home, who, I knew,
would never betray a poor hunted fugitive. But, hea-
vens, Paul, what is the matter? Help! help! My
God, he is dying?"

"I do solemnly. And now good-by for awhile."
She went out, and presently Paul Verdot heard the
smack of a whip and the sound of departing wheels
from outside the back-yard entrance. He sat for a
considerable time in a sort of confused, dozy dream,
but the fire getting low, he roused himself, raked the
embers together, threw on two or three fresh logs, and
reseated himself, his wife's promise, as he described it,
gradually warming about his heart. "I shall know
all to-morrow," he audibly ejaculated, and as the words
passed his lips, his eye fell upon the smouldering frag-
ments of a letter, rendered visible in the far corner of
the chimney-place by the renewed fire-light. To start
up, seize it, and devour its contents as far as they
could be discerned, for the fire had obliterated all but
a few detached sentences, was the work of a moment.
It was signed "Auguste;" and "chère Lucille" was
implored not to lose a moment in coming with "our
child" to Selis, a hamlet about a league from Amiens,
on the northern road, and to bring "as much silver
money" and "clothes" with her as possible, instant
flight being imperative! The accursed words seemed
to swim in fire before the frenzied gaze of the unfortu-
nate man, and for a moment he was paralyzed by the
terrible discovery; for a moment only. "Infernal
traitress!" he vociferated; "I know all to-night, and
may reach you yet." He then bounded up the stairs,
found that several bags of ècus, which he knew were
there in the morning, had been taken away, and that
most of his wife's clothes were gone. There needed
no further confirmation of the letter; and in five
minutes Paul Verdot was on the road to Selis-known, and I am lost!"
armed.

It was about half past eleven, according to Bontemps,
when Paul Verdot returned to the wine-shop. He
was as white as a corpse, and there was a large swel-
ling on his forehead as if he had received a violent
blow, or had fallen down and struck himself heavily,
which he said was the case. He told Bontemps that
his wife would not return till the evening, and as there
was nobody at home, not the servant even, he felt so
lonely that he wished to sleep at his, Bontemps', house.
This was acceded to, and he went to bed at once.
Very early in the morning a message came from Ma-
dame Verdot that breakfast was ready, and her husband
anxiously waited for. Bontemps delivered the message
himself to Paul, who stared whilst he spoke like a man
in a dream, but said nothing, got up, dressed himself,
and went home.

"Sit

I

He was not dying, but rapidly losing consciousness; which, however, a glass of brandy restored sufficiently to enable him to say, in a husky, rapid voice : Listen, Lucille, and hear how your accursed secret has destroyed me. I found that fragment of a letter, pursued you to Selis, and could nowhere find you there. returned, crazed in mind, utterly crazed; for I swallowed brandy at every cabaret upon the road. I burst into this room, and, reclining upon the canapè there, saw the figure of a man asleep. In my frenzy Í rushed at him, and was grappled in return. A fierce terrific conflict ensued. Several times I dashed him on the floor, and at last I received this blow upon the forehead, which rendered me insensible. How long I remained so I know not. The cold air revived me. got upon my feet, procured a light, and saw that I had killed my antagonist, who was stone dead. It's useless screaming, Lucille. In my horror and distraction, I hit upon the mad expedient of placing the body in a sack, bearing it forth in the dark night, and casting it into the Somme. I did so, amidst, as I distinctly heard, the mocking laughter of demons-human devils they were not, or I should have been pursued. Ah! all is

I

The entrance of a sergeant of the communal guard was simultaneous with this last exclamation of Paul Verdot. "Don't be alarmed, my friends" said the sergeant; "I have called upon a slight matter of form, nothing more. But upon my word, citoyen Verdot, that was a droll freak last night. There must have been an unusually large number of petits verres in that head of yours to have put such a fancy there. Shall I tell!" continued the merry functionary, winking and jerking his head towards Lucille, as he offered Paul his snuffbox.

"Yes-to be sure," stammered Paul, utterly confounded. "What do you mean?"

"Figurez-vous, citoyenne," said the sergeant, blandly addressing Lucille, "this charming husband of yours, who is, however, not a bad fellow, let me admit par parenthèse, coming home in such a state, you being Paul Verdot, but for the strong shudder that pass-absent, as we know, that upon finding, decently laid ed over him as he encountered the surprised yet cheer- out upon this canapè, the dead body of full look of his wife, looked more like a stone image moving by automatic power than a living man. down, dear Paul," said Lucille, soothingly; "I have good news for thee. Ah! I see how it is," she added, "thou hast seen this piece of a letter which I found on the table. I dropped it last night, I suppose; and it has put jealous thoughts in that wicked pate of thine. Never mind, I am now going to explain everything, and satisfactorily, too, as thou'lt find."

"Brandy!" gasped the husband, faintly; "brandy!" It was given him; and his wife, though apparently much astonished, proceeded: "After all, ma foi, the explanation is a very simple one. The child was the daughter of the Comte and Comtesse Auguste de Vervay. They are proscrits, as you know, and the child was confided to me under a solemn promise never to divulge its name to a living soul, for fear of those Paris bloodhonnds. The countess has long been confined to her bed with illness, so that they could not till lately leave the concealment they had found, to attempt escaping from the country. The peril is now, however, surmounted, and they are, I trust, beyond the reach of their persecutors. The letter was, of course, from the count; the clothes were required for the disguise of the countess; and the silver money was also essential; and see, mauvaise tête, here is the exchange I have made," added Lucille, who had a keen eye to the main chance, displaying, with great glee, several jewels, evidently of great value.

The mental pallor of Paul Verdot's countenance had

"Dead body? Grand Dieu!” "Dead body, parbleu ! that of the proscrit Mendon; and as dead, I'll warrant, as Louis Capet; killed by a couple of bullets from the patriotic muskets of two of our armed citizens, who had started the aristocrat from his lair; which bullets, however, did not prevent him from crawling into and striving to conceal himself in your premises, citoyen Verdot, as if he knew them well," added the sergeant, with a certain air of menace, not happily difficult to mollify. "Merci citoyenne, your health-dam! but this brandy is excellent! Another glass? Well, yes; as you say, the weather is bitterly cold this morning. Well, madame, as I was saying, what does your amiable husband do whilst we are gone to procure means of fetching the corpse, but come in, pop it into a sack, carry it off, and pitch it into the Somme! Did you ever hear of such a bull-dog, eh? But, seriously, you will come by-and-by to the Hotel de Ville, citoyen, and sign the procès verbal, or there may be difficulty in apportioning the reward, which is handsome. Be it so, madame,-I cannot refuse a lady, though, really, three glasses, one after the other, isno matter. Here is our glorious Republic, one and indivisible! And now, my friends, au revoir."

As the door closed, the husband and wife, threw themselves with bursting sobs into each other's outstretched arms; and Lucille, as soon as her choking utterance permitted, whispered brokenly: "Nevernever, Paul, shall there again be an unshared secret between us."

WE

FASHIONS FOR LADIES' HAIR.

E are indebted to the courtesy of Mr. William | but we reserve a description till we can present it to plated and roughened mail of the crocodile; and she Dibblee, 94 Spring street, under St. Nicholas our readers with the engraved heads. Hotel, and 427 Broadway, for a beautiful mode of

coiffure. It is somewhat in the Pompadour style, and
one that cannot fail to find favor with our fashionable
ladies. The back hair is done up in a rich twist at
first; then, to all
appearance, di-
vided into equal
parts, one twist-
ed into a round
braid; the other
kept together in
one full band.-
The braid sweeps
gracefully over the
top of a rich tor-
toise-shell comb,
and the whole
composes a suc-
cession of grace-
ful circles falling
from the comb
low down to the
neck.

Nature of the Hair.

will hardly, perhaps, believe us when we inform her, that her bird, when he sets right some erring feather with his beak, is acting with the same chemiAn examination of the structure of the hair shows cally-composed instrument upon the same chemithat the difference of color is entirely owing to the cally-composed material as mademoiselle does, when

curve down to the ears, and leaving the temples and | tinct of the fluid which fills the hollow tube in each Roualleyn Gordon Cumming. forehead exposed, the braid of the back hair, resting hair. This tinct or pigment shows through the cortion the crown, is seen in front, forming a graceful finish cal substance in the same manner that it does through I see in this world, said a good man, two heaps of huto the rich masses on the sides. This style of head the epidermis of a negro. Hair is, in fact, but a modi- man happiness and misery; now, if I can take but dress has the merit of great neatness, and the effect, fication of the skin. The same might be said of the smallest bit from one heap and add it to the other, with most faces, is beautiful. feathers, horns, and scales. Not improbably, the dis- I carry a point. If, as I go home, a child has dropped tinguished lady now honoring these pages with her a halfpenny, and if by giving it another I can wipe attention, will be shocked at hearing that her satin-away its tears, I feel I have done something. I should soft shoulder is almost chemically identical with the be glad to do greater things, but I will not neglect this.

We have also in the engraver's hands a coiffure fresh from Paris, and received both in that city and London with great favor. It is also in the Pompadour style,

ESCAPE OF FONTANE.

DURING the siege of Lyons, the poet Fontane had
URING the siege of Lyons, the poet Fontane had

city in ruins. Full of alarm for the fate of his young
wife and infant, he resolved, at all risks, to escape if
he could.

A man of ruffianly appearance, who attended as if
he were a guard of the guillotine, came up to him.
"Are you afraid," said he to Fontane, "that you
look in this way at the national razor?"

"Afraid!" said Fontane; "do you take me for a
Federalist, that I should be frightened at the sight of
a guillotine! Sacre bleu! Look at me; do you see
anything like an aristocrat in my face?"
"What are you?" said a second interrogator, ad-
dressing Fontane.

"I am a bleacher and scourer."
"And this good woman?"
"What a question!" said Fontane. "Look at the
little one-don't you see the likeness-Vive la Repub-

Having obtained a passport, a difficulty arose as to how he could carry away some plate and other valuable articles, then considered quite anti-republican. Among these was a chalice, a present from a sovereign, on which an able artist had engraved the arms of the King of Sardinia. Fontane greatly dreaded lest the chalice should be discovered, as being a vessel used in the service of the church, and bearing the arms of a king, it would be as a threefold proof of aristo-lique!" cracy. However, he decided on taking it, and hastened to the house of a friend, who had been a nursery gardener.

The poet then laid aside all his feudal ornaments, and set about exchanging his clothes, to give himself another appearance.

Having dressed himself in wide pantaloons, and shoes stuck full of large nails, his hair cropped, and every grain of powder removed, he emerged from the gardener's house in the character of a laundress's porter, with a heavy basket of clothes on his shoulderthe plate and chalice carefully packed under the linen. His young family followed a few paces behind him with the passport, but they had to pass close to the terrible instrument of death; for there it stood, always ready for use. Fontane shuddered. His wife turned pale. To them their situation was awful! But reason and necessity urged them on. Fontane resolved to act a decided part. He walked up in front of the guillotine, grasping the basket firmly with his hand, and, loosening the leather strap, as if to ease himself, he looked steadily at the scaffold.

"Ah! that's right!" said the miscreant; "you're a
good one! Down with the muscadins and aristocrats!
Vive la Republique ! and Vive la Guillotine!"
Fontane could not join in this sanguinary cry. He
saw his wife tremble, and shook her hand.

"Come, wife," said he, "let us have a song."
"Ay, and a dance, too," said the barbarian who had
first spoken; "so down with your basket, my jovial
fellow!"

"But I-I-”

"Nonsense! nobody will run away with your basket; down with it, I say! Why, what's the matter? Is it glued to your neck?"

they would be allowed to pass, when, happily, he roused himself, clapped his hands, and assumed a joyful aspect.

"Hallo! my friend," cried one of the fellows, "you're wonderfully merry all at once!"

"A thought has struck me!" said Fontane; "a bold idea! You see my poor wife? I know the Carmagnole always raises her. Come, my good fellows, let us dance it."

His wife gazed at him with a look of despair, as he snatched the child from her arms.

A right education is not merely the reading of many books, but the ability of making knowledge useful to ourselves and others. It is not simply to acquire influence over our fellow-creatures, but to make that influence subservient to moral excellence and piety.

Fontane objected, and resisted for awhile, but was soon obliged to submit; and, wiping the cold perspiration from his forehead, in a state more dead than alive, was relieved from the burthen of his basket. He saw it placed on a heap of stones, and feared everything would be turned topsy-turvy. fatal chalice! All hope of safety was gone; he was He is happy whose circumstances suit his temper; on the point of delivering himself up, and claiming but he is more fortunate who can suit his temper to compassion for his wife and child, in the hope that any circumstances.

Oh! the

never gratify; his young and ardent imagination
pictures to him a world of pleasure, but reality dissi-
pates the charm; his eye embraces a boundless pros-
pect, which his hand is unable to grasp; the corner of
the earth in which he happens to be born does not
produce enough to satisfy his wants; the food which
he requires to nourish him, and the fluids which
quench his thirst or reanimate his strength, the cloth-
ing which defends him from the inclemency of the
seasons-all are placed at a distance from him,
scattered here and there, out of his reach; and it is
only by painful trial, through dangers and difficulties
innumerable and inconvenient, that he can become pos-
sessed of them."

Whilst he was running on in this strain, we were
joined by an officer of the company, who had just
received letters from London. "You have heard of
Harry Middleton ?" said the new comer, after having
detailed to Seyton many other pictures of news re-
specting their mutual friends in the metropolis.
"Undoubtedly. The happiest of men!" cried Sey-lation of the island."

ton, turning towards me with an air of triumph. A "What!" exclaimed Seyton, "a man live upon that
fashionable reputation, an ample fortune, a magnificent
mansion in London, a noble country-seat and hunting
stud celebrated all over the north of England-superb
equipages, a box at the opera-friends everywhere-
not only rich, but, better far, able to enjoy his riches,
and to reap the manifold advantages of a well-ordered
expenditure."

"Yonder island," he said, "for such it is, was for"And what prevents you," I inquired, " from enjoy-merly cultivated, and many families lived there in coming your fortune immediately?"

THE NEW YORK JOURNAL.

"And what induced you," inquired Seyton, "to fix your abode alone in this desolate place?"

"Destiny," replied the Indian, crossing his arms over his breast, and raising his eyes to heaven. "After the tempest, when I returned hither to see if the waves had at least spared the tombs of my ancestors, I found nothing, for the sea had swept away the living and the dead. The palm-trees, planted by me at the two epochs when Allah had blessed me with offspring, had A single tree disappeared with my children also. remained in the island-it was the tree which my father had planted on the day that I was born. The will of the prophet ordained that I should remain here; I am here, and blessed be his name, here will I stay. He knows far better than we do the place in which it is good for us to dwell."

But you must sometimes obtain assistance from your neighbors in the next island?"

66

No," said the Indian, smiling, " for twenty years I have with my hands supplied all my wants."

the sun,

What! clothing-food-everything." 'They are all there," said he, pointing to the tree. "Did not the palm-tree spring from an angel's blood? They are there," he repeated, gently embracing the stem of the tree as he spoke. "Its large leaves suffice to cover my cabin and to keep out the burning rays of and my mats are plaited from their delicate fibres. I find in its fruit the milk which quenches my thirst and invigorates my frame, the kernel which is my food, and the oil with which I anoint my limbs, to render them smooth and supple. The outside of the nut-its fibrous covering-furnishes me with the precious material with which I have woven the garments that cover me, and the nets by which I procure my fish: for the appetite of man is hard to please, and the same kind of food does not suit him at all times. My cups, my domestic utensils, these also I owe to my friend the palm-tree. What have I to desire?"

Have you "But man is not born for solitude. never envied the lot of other islanders, your neigh

bors!"

"The face of man is sweet to me, I confess it. But I sometimes receive a visit from fishermen who toil in these parts, and the rarity of their visits renders the satisfaction which they afford me the greater. Every tie that has made life a blessing to me is associated with this place. What could I do elsewhere? And Could it, do you think, transplant my tree. Is it not my twin-brother? my itself along with me? benefactor, my support, the interpreter to me of the decrees of Providence! My father planted it, my mother tended it, when we were both young and weak together. It has witnessed the happiest epochs of my life; my years as they glided have been marked by the fresh shoots which appear in rings or knots upon No. Count those rings, they will tell you my age, and then say whether you would counsel me now to begin a new existence. And the tomb of my wife! Who would tend it if I were gone? In this place I love to recall the past, and to perform the devotions with which I begin the day. I was about to offer up my customary prayer when the sound of your voices broke upon my ears."

its stem?

"But in this desolate spot," said Seyton, "are you never subject to weariness of spirit, dejection, ennui?" "No," said the islander, "all my time is occupied. First, there are the three seasons when I harvest my nuts; then I have to prepare my food from them, and to weave my garments, to enrich my household with new utensils, to repair my hut, my nets, and, when the weather is fine, catch my fish. Besides, I am not alone in this island, many sea-birds of different kinds have taken up their abode in the rocks close to my dwelling. Look! you may see them dip their wings in the sea, and rise towards us on the bosom of the advancing wave. My birds and I are no strangers to each other. They are my neighbors, companions and friends."

Whilst we were speaking, many strange birds, with long beaks and blue and white plumage, flew round us in a circle, and gathered in small groups on a rocky eminence near the Indian's hut. He threw them some fish bones, and they soon disappeared to perform a fresh journey round the island.

"Another means of support," I exclaimed, "which Providence has placed in your way.” "What!" said the Indian, "do you suppose I could What destroy them? And without necessity, too? society would then be left me? No, far from seeking

to hurt them, when my fish is plentiful, they share it
with me. They obey my call, and I love to watch
their pretty gambols and amusing habits."

"And these, then, are your pleasures?!"
"Not all. The morning sun, the sight of the sea
and sky, the ships which pass my shores, the insects,
clothed in green and gold, that glitter in the darkness
of night like troops of stars: sometimes I gladden my
spirits with the wine my tree affords."
'Nothing then is wanting to complete your happi-
ness?"

66

"Alas! replied the old man, thrown for a moment
by this last question into a painful reverie, "I should
indeed have nothing to desire if the betel tree still
grew in this island. Once upon a time it spread its
beautiful and fragrant branches along the side of a
grove of date-trees which flourished yonder (pointing
with his finger, as he spoke, to a bare and barren spot
of ground, overgrown with a dark sort of moss.)
Nevertheless, I can procure it in exchange for my
cocoa-nut shells, or for the cloth or cordage which I
manufacture, as I have told you, from the outer cover-
ing of the nut."

"So you even engage in commerce?"
"The Prophet has blessed the work of my hands
He has given me more
and the produce of my tree.
than enough to satisfy my wants: but sometimes
during the rough weather there are few visitors to my
island, and my betel is exhausted. Yet, where is the
man who is perfectly happy? As for you, stranger, it
seems to me that you suffer from a still greater priva-
tion, for your teeth are altogether destitute of the
ruddy color produced by this inestimable plant."

It does not grow at all in our country," I observed. Unhappy country!" exclaimed the Indian, lifting up his hands, "but Providence has doubtless recompensed you by other favors: for his bounty is inexhaustible!"

Simple, pious being who could thus, in the midst
of such great privations, acknowledge and bless the
prodigality of a Providence. We left him deeply
affected as well as astonished at his simple and sublime
philosophy. What a contrast to the creed of civilized
man in the realm of opulence and splendor which
we had recently quitted.

For some time after this incident, Edward Seyton
never ventured to complain of the position which had
been allotted him in this world; but his ambitious
thoughts and wishes, although unexpressed, were not
extinguished, for all men can comprehend a great
lesson, whilst very few know how to profit by it.
Having effected the object of our mission and
sojourned some time in the principal island in the
group, before we quitted the Maldives we resolved to
pay another visit to our host and his palm-tree. We
had purchased for him a stock of betel; but alas the
Indian sage was never to receive the reward of his
As we approached the island we could
hospitality!
no longer discover the summit of the palm-tree,
uplifted like a light and elegant parasol, for I could
compare its crown of foliage to nothing better.
Another hurricane had swept over the island, and
destroyed everything. The tree was uprooted and the
man was dead. On the naked and desolate beach
they were buried side by side. We raised the trunk
of the palm-tree and beheld the body of the Indian,
both deeply imbedded in the sand.

The island is now called "The Palm-tree Isle."

THE FRENCH EMPEROR.-The following anecdote is
now current :-When Louis Napoleon resided in Eng-
land, previously to Louis Philippe's deposition, he was
walking one day in Trafalgar Square with Sir Richard
"It grieves me to think that it is my destiny
Acton; he stopped, looked round, and said, with a
sigh :-
to destroy all this place. I am fond of the English
and have much cause to be grateful to them, and I
will do it with as little bloodshed as possible." He
added, "I shall be killed by a musket ball in the streets
of London."

THE term Infantry, applied to foot-soldiers, takes its origin from one of the infantas of Spain, who, hearing that the army commanded by her father had been defeated by the Moors, assembled a body of footsoldiers, and with them engaged and defeated the enemy. In memory of this event, and to distinguish the foot-soldiers, who were not before held in much consideration, they received the name of infantry.

Spare Moments.

A LEAN, awkward boy came one morning to the door of the Principal of a celebrated school, and asked to see him. The servant eyed his mean clothes, and thinking he looked more like a beggar than anything "I should like to see Mr. B.," he reelse, told him to go round to the kitchen entrance. The boy did as he was bidden, and soon appeared at peated. the back door. "You want a breakfast, more like," said the servant girl," and I can give you that without troubling him."

"Thank you," said the boy, "I should have no objection to a bit of bread; but I should like to see Mr. "Some old clothes, may be, you want," remarked B., if he can see me.' the servant, again eyeing the boy's patched trowsers. "I know he has none to spare;" and without regard"Can I see Mr. B.," again asked the boy, after ing the boy's request, she went away about her work. finishing his bread and butter.

66

'Well, he's in the library; if he must be disturbed, he must: but he does like to be alone sometimes," said the girl in a peevish tone. She seemed to think it very foolish to admit such an ill-looking fellow into her master's presence; however, she wiped her hands, Here's somebody, sir, who is dreadful anxious and bade him follow. Opening the library door, she said:-· I don't know how the boy introduced himself, to see you, so I let him in." or how he opened his business, but I know that after which he was studying, and took up some Greek talking awhile, the Principal put aside the volume books, and began to examine the new-comer. examination lasted some time. Every question which the Principal asked, the boy answered as readily as could be.

The

“Upon my word," exclaimed the Principal, looking at the boy from head to foot over his spectacles, "you certainly do well. Why, my boy, where did you pick up so much?"-"In my spare moments," answered the boy.

Here he was a poor, hard working boy, with but college by simply improving his spare moments. few opportunities for schooling, yet almost fitted for Truly, are not spare moments "the gold dust of time?" What can you This boy can tell How precious they should be! What account can you give for your spare moments? show for them? Look and see. you how very much can be laid up by improving them; and there are many, many other boys, I am afraid, in the jail, in the house of correction, in the "In my spare moments." forecastle of a whale ship, in the tippling shop, who, if you should ask them when they began their sinful Temptation always hunts you out in small seasons courses, might answer, like these, when you are not busy; he gets into your hearts. if he possibly can, in just such gaps. There he hides himself, planning all sorts of mischief. Take care of your spare moments.-MRS. H. C. KNIGHT.

A very remarkable tree was many years ago discovered growing on the Island of Ferro, or Hiero, one of the Canaries. The island is a dry and barren spot, prising manner by the Fountain Tree, which grows affording no water except what is supplied in a surthere, and distils water from its leaves in such plenty, as to answer all the purposes of the inhabitants. This tree, according to the history of the Canary Islands, is the only dependence the natives have. One of a similar kind is said to be on the Island of St. Thomas, in the Gulf of Guinea.

In order to ascertain the height of an object, a peculiar method of measurement is in use among the Isthmus Indians. In measuring the height of a tree, for instance, a man proceeds from its base to a point where, on turning the back towards it, and putting the head between the legs, he can just see the top; at the the ground, and then paces the distance to the base of spot where he is able to do this he makes a mark on the tree the distance is equal to the height.

Some one says that the first weeping willow in England was planted by Pope, the poet. He received a present of figs from Turkey, and observing a twig in the basket ready to bud, he planted it in his garden, and it soon became a fine tree. From this stock all the weeping willows in England and America originated.

A Little Political Game of Spelling. England. I say, Russia, I'll bet you anything you can't spell Constantinople?

Russia. Can't I, just. Why, it's easy enough.

England. It is not so easy to get through Constantinople, my boy, as you may imagine. Come, just you try.

Russia. Here goes at it, then! C-o-nCon; s-t-a-n-stan, Constan; t-i-ti, Constanti; n-o-no

England (stopping him). No.

Russia (extremely puzzled). No!
England (positively). No, No!

France (ditto). No, No, No!

Turkey (in consequence of the firmness of

the other two, plucks up courage, and also says positively). No, NO, NO, NO.

All together (most positively). NO!!! NO!!!!

No! NO!!

THE RULING PASSION STRONG IN DEATH. -It is a curious and remarkable fact, that the "Rappers" have not succeeded in summoning from their private "vasty deep," any female spirit who confesses to having lived in the "Middle Ages."

THE NEW MOTIVE POWER.-Different opinions are entertained with regard to the nature of the force which operates in producing the phenomena of table-moving; and it may, perhaps, be said that the tables are turned by a power of attorney.

THE LAST LOOK.-We do not know any thing so painful, so full of sorrow and regret, so overflowing with unfathomable love, as the last look which an Alderman gives a haunch of venison, just before it is being carried

away.

A SIMPLE QUESTION.-Supposing you have been operating on a stupid, refractory table for a couple of hours, and find that nothing will induce it to put one leg before another, do you think that the fact of a policeman being sent for, and requested to exercise his authority, would be sufficient to make the

Mr. Bozzle can't for the life of him imagine how it is that they build such table "move on?"
big hotels and keep them up. Is let into the secret when he comes to
settle his bill.

[RUSSIA tries back, and tries very hard
several times; but each time he tries it
on, he is pulled up suddenly by the
NOES. He gets very angry; and at
last, not seeing his way at all clearly
through Constantinople, he retires in
the greatest rage and disgust, ENG-
LAND, FRANCE, and TURKEY still calling
out after him, "No! No! No!"]
REJECTED POETRY. "I don't know how it is," re-
marked a person who was fond of writing poetry for
the journals, but whose productions always met with a
rejection, "I have written a great deal, but as yet my
pieces have never been published." "Perhaps," re-
plied his friend, "there were faults you were not
aware of, but easily detected by the hawk-eyed editor."
"Well," rejoined the poet, "I can always write the
first line well enough, but I am perplexed about the
second, thus:-

Tread lightly, stranger, o'er this hallow'd dust;
At some future period there is some probability that if you don't
mend your ways-lay like me vou must.

66

Nothing," once said an old gentleman to us, much indicates the nature of a man's taste as the style of the pictures which decorate the walls of his dwelling." "But," we inquired, " suppose he has no pictures?" "Then he has no taste!" quickly responded the sage.

CHURCH"BELLES" call a great many people to Church.

66 SO A laughable story of some carrier pigeons is told in an Antwerp newspaper. The editor of a celebrated journal, published in that city, sent a reporter to Brussels for the king's speech, and with him a couple of carrier pigeons, to take back the document. At Brussels, he gave the pigeons in charge to a waiter, and A GOOD TURN OFF.-William IV. seemed in a mo- called for breakfast. He was kept waiting for some mentary dilemma one day when, at table with several time, but a very delicate fricassee atoned for the delay. officers, he ordered one of the waiters to "Take away After breakfast, he paid his bill, and called for his carthat marine there," pointing to an empty bottle. rier pigeons. "Pigeons!" exclaimed the waiter; "Your Majesty!" inquired a colonel of marines, "do" why, you've eaten them!" you compare an empty bottle to a member of our branch of the service?" "Yes," replied the monarch, as if a sudden thought had struck him, "I mean to say it has done its duty once, and is ready to do it again."

ALARMING CASE OF SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION.

GIRLS BEWARE!-Jean Paul thus cautions young girls :-"The young men fall on their knees before you; but remember it is but as the infantry, that they may conquer and kill; or as the hunter, who only on

bended knees takes aim at his victim."

MISER'S CHARITY.-An illiterate person, who always volunteered to "go round with the hat," but was suspected of sparing his own pocket, overhearing once a hint to that effect, replied, "Other gentlemen puts down what they think proper, and so do I. Charity's a private concern, and what I give is nothing to nobody." FRANKING LETTERS.-The Princess Augusta asked Lord Walsingham for a frank. He wrote one for her in such detestable characters, that, at the end of a month, having wandered half over England, it was opened, and returned to her as illegible. The Princess complained to Lord Walsingham, and he then wrote the frank so legibly, that at the end of a couple of days it was returned to her, marked "Forgery!"

HINT TAKEN.-Voltaire, after having been on terms of friendship with the King of Prussia, owing to his wit, gave some offence; when the King said to some of his courtiers-" When we squeeze the orange and have sucked the juice, we throw the rest away." Then," said Voltaire, "I must take care of the peel," and quitted his Prussian Majesty's dominions.

66

IRISH FRANKING.-In May, 1784, a bill intended to limit the privilege of franking, was sent from the Parliament of Ireland for the royal approbation. It contained a clause, that any member, who, from illness or any other cause, should be unable to write, might authorize any other person to frank for him: provided that, on the back of the letter so franked, the member should give a certificate, under his own hand, of his inability to write.

AWKWARD HONOR.-In 1832 a medical gentleman wrote a letter to Sir Henry Halford on cholera, in which he took to himself the credit of being "the first to discover the disease, and communicate it to the public!" The public is much obliged to him.

ADVICE TO AN AUTHOR.-A learned doctor having printed two heavy volumes of "Natural History," a friend remarked to him that his publication was in several particulars, extremely erroneous; and when the other defended his volumes, replied, "Pray, Doctor, are you not a justice of the peace!" "I am, sir," was the reply. "Why, then, sir," added his critic, "I advise you to send your work where you send your vagrants, that is, to the house of correction." NOTES AT AN INN.-" Pray, give me some lemonade." Landlady:-"Yes sir. Do you do you prefer it with lemon, or without!" "How?"-"Why,only we happen, just now, to be out of lemons." Be not affronted at a jest. If one throws salt at thee, thou wilt receive no harm, unless thou hast sore places.

"Oh! La! there's Pa's Boots-but where's Pa?"

"Help me, Cassius, or I sink!" said the great Cæsar, when he was likely to be over head and ears in the Tiber. Modern ambition, when it is over head in debt, and wants to reach the banks, cries out-" Help me, Cashiers, or I sink !"

A BURST OF TALENT!-A Yankee, being asked to describe his wife, said, "Why, sir, she'd make a reguThe individual who broke the ice with his maiden lar fast, go-ahead steamer, my wife would, she has speech was drowned by applause. such a wonderful talent for blowing up."

"You look," said an Irishman to a pale, haggard smoker, "as if you had got out of your grave to light your cigar, and couldn't find your way back again."

A wag, on reading that in a certain engagement a dey and two knights were killed, remarked that that was what he called killing time with a vengeance!