Street, through the streets La Vannerie, La Juiverie, Petit Saint Jean, &c. In the latter we entered a miserable Carbaret and called for a bowl of negus (a wretched compound of hot water, clas ret and lime). The low room was crowded with suspicious looking characters, all carousing in a merry mood; their motley figues bare ly discernable through the dense cloud of smoke which filled the place. To nearly all of these he seemed well known and addressed them by name-When I expressed my surprise that he should be on such terms of intimacy with these, he laughed and said that here all hostility between the fripens and the police was sunk over the bottle-it was an understood thing at these times that no pro fessional pursuits should be followed by either party; that in fact the Cabaret was their neutral ground where they met without reserve to talk over their plots and counter-plots. He said, however, that although the truce was never broken on these occasions, yet he gained much useful information from the thieves when elated with wine. A knot of outre beings collected round us and began gibbering away in the vilest slang, puffing out most enormons clonds of smoke from thin, short, black pipes. To my amazement Vidocq rose and introduced me to them as one of the most noted English thieves, upon which they all filled their glasses and drank "le Fripon Anglais." The word was soon passed through the room and I was overwhelmed with civilities and queries as to the state of the pro fession in England, our notorious pickpockets and a variety of others, from which, however, my imperfect knowledge of the language relieved me; Vidocq helped me, and gave a long account of the London Police partly true and partly at hazard. He afterwards had a hearty laugh at my delimma, in which I joined.

When we were left more alone he pointed out to me many of those present as the most expert fripons in France. I was astonished to hear such a long catalogue of the profession and bewildered by the enumeration of the many grades in it, such as Chevaliers d'Industrie, Droguers, Nourisseurs, Detourneuses, Empous◄ teurs, &c. &c. He related some feats of these gentry, of a most astonishing kind, which certainly give them the pre-eminence over our own. The greatest of all French thieves was Petit, a man of most marvellous ability in his dishonest profession. He reigned ab. solute monarch of the stronghold of the Parisian thieves, the Cour de Miracles, and it is even said that he far outshone Vidocq. Petit would have been bought over by government had he been sober, but no dependence could be placed upon him, and after many most extraordinary escapes from prison he died in his own regal domains. One of Petits most favorite exploits, and which he performed several times, was after breaking from the strongest dungeons in the galleys at Toulon, to disguise and pay a visit to the keeper, as a stranger wishing to see the place: he used to tell how the jailor related to him his escape, ridiculonsly exaggerated, and how he described his person, adding that clever as he (Petit) was at disguising, he should not be deceived were he to meet him.

Of all the French thieves the " Chevalier d'Industrie" is undoubted

ly the most accomplished and interesting. He is generally a young man of good family, who having run throuh his property, and not liking to give up all his accustomed gaities, has recourse to this expedient for filling his pockets. Once successful in his idle and profitable profession and he never reforms. Vidocq assured me that there were in Paris alone eleven thousand of these swindlers! Now taking the average of their daily expenditure at ten francs each, which is very low, we shall find that this one class of swindlers spend annually the enormous sum of 70,000,000 francs, the whole of which comes out of the pockets of the unwaty public. The peculiar forte of the Chevalier d'Industrie is the forming of fictitious Banking Houses with confederates in the Provinces who act as correspondents and honor their drafts until the smash is made and the bubble bursts.

The Drogeur is a swindler of a humbler grade. He is also young and well dressed, and practises upon good natured old gentlemen, whom he contrives to meet at the Opera Comique, or the Café de Empire, by telling a pitiful tale of being fresh from the country, losing his money to gamblers and wishing for assistance to enable him to quit the scene of his misfortunes. The tale is plausible and almost always succeeds,

The Détourneuses are shop-lifters and mostly females; they dress in an easy négligee, all their clothes being too large in order to facilitate their operations, which are carried on thus:-they enter a boutique and ask to look at some silks or laces, during the inspection of which they contrive to drop a piece of one or the other; a confederate eutering at the proper time, leading a child, asks for some triting article, and while it is being sought stoops to play with her charge, at the same moment conceals the article dropt, in the child's clothes. Sometimes the confederate is a beggar and a sou being thrown to her by the thief, she is enabled, while picking it up, to conceal the piece of lace beneath her ragged, but ample garments.

The "Nourisseur" is generally the most practised of all thieres: this occupation consisting in obtaining information to enable his associates to plunder houses on a large scale, for he himself never acts in the affair. He takes apartments in a respectable lodginghouse: dresses well, keeps decent hours, gives a dinner or two, and by making himself agreeable to all in the house, soon becomes acquainted with their means, habits, hours &c. This being accomplished, the plot cominences: if the victim does not leave the key of his room in the door when he goes out, an impression is obtained from it in wax while he is at home. Some tête day arrives, aud to lull all suspicion the Nourisseur takes his victim to see the sights &c. and during their absence the rooms are entered and cleared of everything valuable.

The "Bonjourier" is somewhat similar to the preceeding, though of a more humble grade: like them his malpractises are confined to lodging-houses, but less scientifically and more economically. Ho enquires of the Portiere for some one whom he is certain resides

there, and ascends the stairs till he comes to a door with a key in it. He knocks, at first softy, then louder; if no reply be given he is sure that the tenant is either out or asleep, he therefore enters boldly, but softly,' and pockets every disposable article of va lue. If the lodger be in the room he is not disconcerted, but asks for some one whom he well knows does not live there. A not uncommon practise is for several of these to enter a house with baskets, as blanchisseurs," and finding a room open, to fill them with valuables, covering them with dirty linen as though taking clothes to wash, and then sallying out boldly; the door keeper, never dreaming of what is going on, of course suffers them io pass.

If the theives of France then, are so clever, what must he be who outwits them all, and is the terror and admiration of the whole body?

On another occasion, when we were conversing on the old topic, I asked him whether the galley-slaves often reformed on their release. He replied, hardly ever, and indeed if they desired it they scarcely could, from the surveillance under which they were placed, and which made them known every-where so that none liked to give them employment. He hoped to see the time, however when this demoralizing system would be abolished, for not till then could the number of criminals be lessened.

Some years after the above conversation, Vidocq, actuated by the best of motives, established a large paper manufactory near Paris, in which be of fered employment to all released convicts of good behaviour, thus affording them an opportunity of gaining an honest livelihood and retreiving their character. As a proof that there is an inclination for amendment in many, I need only add that the manufactory is full of quiet, well-conducted workinen. It were well if this plan, or something similar, were adopted in our own country, where there are hundreds, nay thousands, of young theives turned loose upon the town, from our jails, and who resume their former occupations from habit, but of whom many might doubtless be reclaimed had they some place of refuge, a home and a comfortable meal offered them.

POETICAL SKETCHES OF THE INTERIOR OF THE 18LAND OF CEYLON, BY THE REV. B. BAILEY.-(Continued.)

XXXII

RAMBODDE WATERFALLS.

Wind slowly round this bare and jungly hill:
Between two wooded mountains runs a small
Ravine at either end a waterfall.

Trace back your steps a little-turn—and fill
Your mind with wonder at a third you still
Behold the Fall upon the right,-and all
The sights that from the depths of beauty call
What can be pictured by no graphic skill
Of pencil, nor by painting, though each bue
Were as ethereal as the light of morn.
An angel's airy pinion, dipped in dew,
Some spots of our fair earth can scarce adorn;
No human art can give the eye a view
Of things which make our bosoms less forlorn.

XXXIII.

FALLS FROM THE MOUNTAINS.

Lift up your rapt eyes to the utmost verge,—
The left and front of those o'erhanging hills;
You there descry what scarce show more than rills,
So vast their height. Ere long they'll downward urge
Impetuously their waters,-as the scourge

Of war that wastes, exterminates, and kills;
They'll rage, and chafe, and have their headlong wills.
But now behold them. Gently they emerge,
And from the lofty mountain-heights are seen,
Like "faery waterbreaks," just murmuring;
But at the Tempest's voice, down the ravine,
As two wild eagles on resistless wing,
Darting from heaven's lone heights upon their prey,
These Falls will sweep along with torrent sway.

Glimpses that will make me less forlorn."— Wordsworth.

XXXIV.

THE VALLEY.

Nor linger here. But cast your eyes around
This most delightful Valley. Every spring.
Hath its own voice, and tunefully can sing,
At every turn innumerous falls are found;
And each sends forth a sweet and mellow sound
Of Nature's music, welcome as the wing
Of summer bird at home, to which we cling
With a fond love, This, too, is hallowed ground:
Here every tiny bird may have its rest,
Unscared in these lone hills, and may be heard
Above the Waterfalls, and gives a zest
Even to them and haply in the crest
Of yon tall mountain of the Indian bird,
The little songster builds his airy nest.

XXXV.

THE SAME.

Rooks are not wanted here. I love the lore
Of learned men. Could I nor read, nor write,
My life were a mere blank, excluded quite
From the vast world of Mind. But Nature more
I love, I feel-I dare not say adore.

And they, who live in her all-varying light,
Have eyes more precious than the sense of sight,
Eyes of the mind and memory, which o'er
And o'er such matchiess scenes can ruminate,
As lie around me in this lovely vale;
And they who feed devout imagination,—
Though knowing all the evils of our state,
And feeling we are sorrowful and frail,
Driuk deeply at the fount of Adoration.

The Peacock Mountain.