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W. of the navy, and a Captain J. of the army. Captain J. had seduced the Lieutenant's sister, who, from that moment, seemed impressed with deep melancholy. On their meeting, he insisted that the distance should be only six paces at this distance they fired, and the shot of Captain J. struck the guard of Lieutenant W.'s pistol, and tore off two fingers of his left hand;-he deliberately wrapped his handkerchief round the wound, and looking solemnly to heaven, exclaimed, I have a left hand that never failed me." They again took their ground, and Lieut. W. losed stedfastly at Capt. J.; and, casting his eyes up to heaven, was heard to utter, "forgive me." They fired, and both fell. Captain J. received the ball in his head, and died instantly: the Lieutenant was shot through the breast. He in quired if Captain J.'s wound was mortal, and being answered in the affirmative, thanked God that he had lived so long. He then took his mourning ring from his finger, and said to his second, "Give this to my sister, and tell her it is the happiest moment I ever knew." He had scarcely uttered the last word when a quantity of blood gushed from his mouth, and he immediately expired.

These men probably called themselves Christians, but, if such they were, they were, as good Bishop Wilson would have said, "Christians without christianity."

SCRAPS

G. M. J.

FROM MY NOTE-BOOK.

IN our search after happiness, we are often too busy with the means to reach the end. We lay a net for the object of our hopes, and are ourselves entangled in its toils. It is sometimes curious to observe the successive entanglements to which one is liable, the means within means which may engross one's attention. Observe the course which led the philologist to his present devotion. He sought happiness in common with his fellows to be happy he thought he must be distinguished, to be distinguished in any department of life, he knew he must be learned, to be learned in the classics he must pursue philology. He

is like a man who sets out to mount to the top of some house, but who, in his ascent, is so amused with the intricacy of the staircases, that he lingers for ever on the first flight of steps.

From a trifling incident in the lives of Byron and Gibbon, we may learn the

essential diversity between the poetical and the philosophic mind. Byron, when speaking of his admission to Cambridge, says that the heaviest, saddest feeling of his life, was to find that he was no longer a boy. Gibbon in describing his entrance at Oxford, exults that he now felt himself a man.

A Grecian poem possesses an oneness which does not belong to any Roman production; it is the developement rather than the composition of an idea. The breathings of the Roman lyre rarely rise to the dignity of inspiration, and we feel in reading their choicest productions as if they had been written rather than created.

How rarely are the theory and the practice of prudential wisdom united! We learn from the memoirs of De Retz, that La Rochefoucault was an unsuccessful politician. Rochefoucault studied men individually; De Retz in masses: the one learned wisdom, the other practised tact.

To preserve ourselves happy, it is not enough that we have external sources of comfort; we must keep open the wellsprings of contentment and peace within. Notwithstanding the rivers which flow into it, the ocean would decrease if it were not for the fountains within its bosom.

Oftentimes those opponents or detractors of great men, who sully or diminish for awhile the lustre of a noble genius, are credited for more ability than they deserve, as the clouds which dim the moon to our sight are themselves decked with a radiance not their own.

A woman possessed of genius and literature, is perhaps unnatural; so also the garden rose, the "queen of flowers," the "flower of love" is, by the laws of botany, a monster, yet a lovely one.

"If I were rich," says the poor philanthropist "If I had health," says the enthusiastic invalid; alas! all mankind are confined morally, as Mirabeau was physically, in the castle of "If.”

How singular, that we should be so slow to credit men for disinterestedness in private matters, as members of society; and so ready to credit them for it, in public affairs, as patriots.

To gain the reputation of much talent, throw away the little that you have. The Roman garrison which threw away the loaves, was supposed to possess an immense deal of bread.

No author is so excellent as to have no contemner; none so feeble as to have no admirer.

LONDON:

Published by Effingham Wilson, Junior, 16, King William Street, London Bridge, Where communications for the Editor (post paid) will be received.

[Printed by Manning and Smithson, Ivy Lane.]

THE PARTERRE

OF FICTION, POETRY, HISTORY, AND GENERAL LITERATURE,

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TOWARDS the close of evening Eloi returned to Alienor, who had passed the whole day in the utmost inquietude. She asked not Eloi where he had been, she upbraided him not; so soon as she saw his beloved form, her heart felt light and she ran to embrace him. He dared not make reply to those pure and chaste caresses, knowing full well how recently he had given himself to others so unlawful; and he experienced the bitterest remorse on seeing that Alienor had been labouring the entire day for him, and that for his sake too she had disposed of her last jewels, whilst he had expended upon Agnès all the money gained at play during the morning. He felt so conscience stricken at these circumstances that, letting his forehead sink down upon Alienor's shoulder, he was on the point of making an avowal of

his infidelity to her, and of solemnly renouncing Agnès for ever; but, at the very instant the oath was about to escape his lips, a sudden movement proceeding from the heart over the entire left side, warned him that he was under the control of a powerful hand, under the influence of an irrevocable doom-and he was silent. Those hours of affectionate tranquillity that he had so often passed with Alienor, he longed again to experience, and would yield himself up to such quiet happiness again that very evening; he indeed wished so to do, but alas! he could not: possessing no longer that inward peace of mind which made him formerly experience the feeling in Alienor's society, it was nought but to Agnès and the gaming table he now devoted himself. He thought only of the nun who had bewitched him and the cards that enriched his purse; and Alienor, perceiving his despondency and pre-occupation, wholly mistook their

cause.

"I am full of hope, Eloi, and thou too must take courage; I am skilful in every kind of needle-work, and know

Con

how to provide for all our wants.
sole thyself." And so saying she bade
him good night: happy at having no
thought more distracting to scare away
slumber, she soon closed her eyes; and
Eloi stole away, when he perceived her
sleeping soundly. It will be readily
guessed that it was for the purpose of
seeking Agnès. The obscure chronicler
who has preserved the present history
seems inclined, with all the good faith of
his age, to look upon the young and
innocent nun as an agent of the devil.
Alas! the spirit of evil steals sometimes
upon us under the forms of the good
and beautiful, and in sooth some myste-
rious influence must be admitted, in
order to explain the sudden and absolute
sway Agnès had acquired over Eloi.
Whilst he was passing the night in
gaming and dissipation, the repose of
Alienor was blessed by blissful dreams
of a smiling future. Had her husband
been there he would have heard her ex-
pressions of affection, pronounced with
all the emotion those dreams inspired,
and felt the pressure of her arms ex-
tended, towards him during sleep; he
could not fain have refused her some
word of tenderness, one kiss, and she
would have found him on awakening,
more loving and beloved than ever. She
awoke; she was alone-she uttered a
confused cry, for the illusions of slumber,
but yet half dissipated, struggled still
with her imperfect wakening. She
called him by name, she stretched forth
her hands in search of him; drew back
the thick curtains, but saw not Eloi;
it was broad day, however. She arose
in disorder, ran over the whole house,
and returned terror-stricken to her own
apartment on learning that Eloi had
gone out during the early part of the
night. It was not that she as yet sus-
pected her misfortune; she loved him
too well so speedily to believe that he
could cease to cherish a like affection;
but she grew fearfully uneasy. The
streets were deserted; he might have
been assailed and have perished by the
hands of assassins, or with great proba-
bility, to extricate them from their
present pitiable condition, he was devot-
ing himself to some midnight labour
that would undermine his health, and
she determined to scold him soundly for
the torments he caused her, poor lady.

These reproaches and upbraidings with which she menaced Eloi, were uttered in an almost caressing voice on his return home towards the close of day; but only to remain there for a few

minutes. He had gained a large sum of gold at play, of which he gave a few pieces to Alienor, lied in order to explain away this enormous gain, then again to account for his absence, and once more quitted his mansion without offering an excuse or uttering a word of adieu.

Her eyes were opened at last by degrees: she saw confusedly it is true, like one who has been a long while blind. She asked herself with terror from what possible source he could have procured so much treasure. Oh! could it be through crime or baseness, that he had acquired it!

At the idea of despising Eloi, her beloved Eloi, whom she could never cease to adore, a fearful trembling pervaded her whole frame; then too she had remarked a wild and savage expression in his glance, which appeared to her the revelation of a mind troubled by some bad action, a mind, in fact, harassed by remorse for some most guilty deed! Far from suspecting the cause, the effect she beheld and wept at-her days now passed in unavailing sorrow.

Meanwhile, Agnès lived like a princess, squandering the gold that Eloi won. Every card played with his left hand became fatally successful over his adversaries, and when in their rage and despair they sought revenge by duel, that same left hand which had previously stripped them of fortune also deprived them of life, and the nun had ample enjoyment of the booty resulting from such hellish misdeeds. His gentle wife neglected at home, wept through the lonely hours, not loss of fortune or gaiety, but that her husband's affections were estranged from her.

She erred!-He loved her ever; he loved her with all the power which remained untrammelled by that fiendish compact. This pure and unblemished portion of his soul diminished, it is true, from day to day in proportion as that possessed by the evil one obtained the ascendancy, and as Agnès continued to hold his heart captive; but the image of Alienor still dwelt in that sanctuary intact. At times, when wearied with dissipation, he snatched short intervals of repose in the gay bower of Agnès; he would murmur in his dreams the name of Alienor and weep, and on awakening the nun would question him, with a fierce jealousy flashing from her dilated eyes. At those moments she would indulge in rude and violent expressions of her wrath. He then felt the species of yoke that weighed upon him, and doubly regretted the placid affection of Alienor.

One morning especially, when, in consequence of one of those dreams, he had suffered from the ungovernable character of the nun, he quitted the house in disconsolate mood, directing his steps towards the hôtel in the rue SaintAntoine. The nearer he approached it, the more determined was his resolution to forsake his evil courses, and return to the domesticity of home. The narrowed space that Alienor yet occupied in his heart was still open to repentance and remorse; freed from the importunities of Agnès, these sentiments obtained the mastery over him. He felt the spirit of evil incessantly hurrying him onward, that he was gliding towards a bottomless abyss. Alienor was his stay, his port, his refuge; and there would he harbour from his wearying and storm-tossed course. On knocking at the portal, he started at the sound as he would have done on hearing some happy and unexpected news, and almost as much startled as Alienor herself, who, for a month well nigh past, had expected his coming from minute to minute. The echo of his footfalls upon the flag-stones of the wide staircase recalled the remembrance of so many past days of peace and love; and when he stood at the threshold of the rich apartment, wherein he had left his wife in indulgence, he was moved even to tears. It was with a hand fearfully trembling that he half opened the chamber door of Alienor. He feared she was not therein, and yet he feared she was. On a sudden he rushed forward and flung himself at her feet, embracing her knees like some guilty wretch, who taking refuge in a church, stretches forth his arms imploring to the altar.

"Pardon ! pardon! how pale thou art! how wasted art thou become !

and all my doing!- -Could'st thou, then, pardon me, Alienor? Oh! yes-thou wilt. Though thou may'st not think so, I have suffered bitterly. How beautiful thou art!-Each inanimate object, too, around the room seems to welcome me back again. From henceforth, thou wilt remain for ever near me?"

Alienor replied not-did not even remind him that he it was who had played the truant. Wrapped in a delicious silence she was enjoying the deep happiness of his return, manifesting the same placid resignation equally in weal as in woe. Eloi was on his knees, and she thought not of raising him. That wretched man, forgetful of the irrevocable compact, caressingly besought the angelic woman; he reverted to past hours

of happiness, and, perhaps, in that long adoration, the as yet unsullied portion of his soul was well nigh eclipsing with its pure rays that darksome part which had fallen under the power of the evil one. They each remained gazing in the other's eyes, and in such contemplation Eloi doubtless was inspired by the innocence and peace breathing from the mind of the gentle Alienor.

He felt himself seized by the left arm; it was Agnès who had followed him.

Alienor shrieked with terror, not at beholding Agnès who was unknown to her, but at the sight of the instantaneous change which worked itself in the physiognomy of Eloi so soon as the nun touched the arm over which the infernal hand had passed. There was, it seems, a horrible connexion-a dark chain between the demon and the young girl. With her apparently feeble hand she forced him to raise himself; forced him, by a mysterious power, to repulse Alienor whilst exclaiming "Get thee gone! quit the hôtel; it is mine alone, and fit only for her whom I love far better than thee, Alienor;-begone!"

The irresistible impulse which constrained him to speak, and act thus violently, gave a horrible contraction to his features, and a choking and sinister expression to his voice; already he menaced Alienor with his left hand clenched, when she fell upon her knees and then withdrew herself, weeping bitterly. The last look she cast towards her husband wore such an expression of despondency, that, had ever so little of his original idiosyncrasy yet remained, doubtless he would have recalled her to him; but he was his former self no longer. No remnant of goodness was left within him, nothing further now than the vertigo which hurried him from the whirlwind of to-day on to that of the morrow. Popular seditions, desperate gaming, deadly duels, frightful debauches,-he rolled as it were down a precipice of rocks, and rebounding from one to another, destroyed himself in the whirling descent. Like the maniac, who, to enhance his misery, has at times short intervals of reason, he perceived the abyss into which he was descending by the rugged windings of the gulph. And then he cursed Agnès without the power of blessing Alienor: he wandered from church to church, and rushed forth from them again in despair, or at times would station himself at that of Saint Jean en Grève, to listen to the mass for the dead that was sung for the guilty criminal

going to execution, feeling himself guilty like the other, and like him on the point of perishing for his crime.

He did not deceive himself. That ever increasing agitation in which he had latterly lived, had undermined his frame, and he extended himself upon his deathbed, consumed by that fire from hell which burned more and more vividly within him from day to day. Agnès, for whom he had destroyed himself, abandoned him, or visited his bedside only to mark with avidity the progress of a disorder which in the end would leave her mistress of a splendid mansion and immense riches. Alienor, who would have saved him, quitted her mournful retreat, when she learned that he was suffering, watched him night and day, praying and weeping over him who no longer recognised her.

His last hour approached. Alienor sought a priest of Saint Gervais to administer the holy sacrament, and both placed themselves on their knees beside the couch of the sick man on the right hand. Agnès was standing at his left, and both women whispered in his ear. He listened to Agnès alone, and whilst he repulsed the host which the priest was entreating him to receive, the nun brought the precious missal of Maître Thibault Gaulmin, and opened it before the dying gaze of his son Eloi. He uttered a piercing cry, on beholding the arabesques and quaint figures all in horrible motion over the yellow vellum. Agnès next presented to him the diamond-cross; at the sight of the red and glowing rays that darted from those precious stones, he shrieked a second time; and then appeared a black vapour, enveloping the head of the bed, and out of it proceeded a fiery hand, which was passed over the entire left side of Eloi. He shrieked aloud once more and died. Alienor next day became one of the sisters of Sainte Claire, in the convent l'Ave-Maria. Agnès de la Briarde, a monk, afterwards took for a patroness Sainte-Madeleine, the peculiarities of which sisterhood it is needless to particularize.

J. S. M.

COMPARATIVE DISTRESS.

He who has nowhere to lay his head, often suffers less than he who does not know where to put his hands.

WOMEN AND THE MOON.

Women should resemble the moon in everything but its spots and its mutability.

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I will not recount the events of a passage across the Atlantic. Suffice it to say that three times the number of days were wasted in the voyage, which are at this time necessary for the passage from Liverpool to this port, and it was the beginning of November before I was gladdened by the sight of the stupendous banks of the majestic St. Lawrence. As we approached Quebec, and I saw the towering battlements of the upper town overhanging the houses and shipping, which lay dim and dark in the shade of evening, while the sun yet played upon the glittering spires and waving colours above them, I felt repaid for all the tedious hours of the weary sea. After landing, I found my way to the plains of Abram. I sat on the stone which pillowed the head of the dying conqueror. I was on the spot where one master-spirit, leading and directing a handful of Britons, decided the fate of the western world. I thought of Wolfe, and the glorious day of his triumph in death. That day which broke the power of France in the west-overthrew at a blow her mighty plans of empire, and secured to the sons of English republicans, the immense space from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean, and from the north pole to the table land of Mexico, for the propagation of innumerable free states, bound together by the same institutions, the same language, the same interests, and a religious freedom which rejects the dogmas of an usurping hierarchy.

As Zeb spoke, his tone had become elevated, his cheek was flushed, his eyes sparkled; and Cooke, who had raised himself on his elbow in the bed, could scarcely believe it was the low comedian who spoke of states and empires in terms so lofty and so little suited to his usual style.

Spiffard observed the veteran's surprise, and resumed his narrative, first making an apology for his warmth.

"I have ever been an enthusiastic admirer of the institutions and of the prospective destinies of my country, Mr. Cooke; and however ill-suited such studies may appear to the profession I

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