water; but, although an excellent swimmer, was but just time enough to catch the hair of his head, by which, after great exertions, he at length succeeded in dragging the unfortunate youth to the shore. By this time a number of Spaniards had collected, with whose assistance he was laid upon the grass; but the vital spark appeared to have flown for ever.

My friend advised that he should be taken to the nearest house, till medical assistance could be procured; but this the Spaniards unanimously opposed, saying it would be much better to carry him to a neighbouring convent, and there place him before the figure of a favourite saint, by whose power he would be restored, if possible; human assistance being now in vain. As it would have been next to madness for us to attempt any opposition, he was accordingly carried to the convent, where, after covering him over with an old cloak, they left him with no other companion than the wooden image, whose influence was to restore him. But alas, poor youth! when we inquired the next day what had been the result of this experiment, we found he had moved his hand (which, when we left him, lay by his side,) up to his head, but his spirit had flown for ever. Such was the end of this unfortunate young man, who, if he had met with proper assistance in the first instance, it is probable might have been now alive; for we may naturally suppose some life was in him, by the altered position of his arm; but this the ignorant and misguided Spaniards attributed to the power of their senseless image.

BUONAPARTE AND THE FEMALE POLITICIAN.

It is well known that Napoleon was fond of walking out in Paris, early in the morning in disguise. In one of those excursions he walked with Duroc into a statuary's shop, at a remote situation from the Thuilleries, and observing a little figure of some merit, asked the price; the person in the shop could not tell, but said his mistress would be up presently. Napoleon waited patiently a considerable time, and at length the proprietress appeared. "What is the price of this statue?" demanded Napoleon; she told him. ""Tis too much," he replied. "I cannot sell it for less," said the lady; "what with this war and that war, and new taxes and all,

we are in such a state that this is all we have left us, and I will not sell it for one franc less."-The visitors departed, and the next day a messenger dispatched from the Thuilleries, brought the lady and the statue before Buonaparte, and he ordered her to be paid the price she had the day before demanded, and dismissed her with the following playful reprimand:" For the future, madam, rise earlier in the morning, and do not meddle with politics."

CHARLES BRANDON, AND MARY QUEEN OF FRANCE.

THE fortune of Charles Brandon was remarkable. He was an honest man, yet the favourite of a despot. He was brave, handsome, accomplished, possessed even delicacy of sentiment; yet he retained his favour to the last. He even had the perilous honour of being beloved by the despot's sister, without having the least claim to it by birth; and yet instead of its destroying them both, he was allowed to be her husband.

Charles Brandon was the son of Sir William Brandon, whose skull was cleaved at Bosworth by Richard the Third, while bearing the standard of the Duke of Richmond. Richard dashed at the standard, and appears to have been thrown from his horse by Sir William, whose strength and courage however could not save him from the angry desperation of the king.

But Time, whose wheeles with various motion runne,
Repayes the service fully to his sonne,

Who marries Richmond's daughter, born betweene

Two royal parents, and endowed a queene.

Sir John Beaumont's "Bosworth Field."

The father's fate must doubtless have had its effect in securing the fortunes of the son. Young Brandon, we believe, grew up with Henry the Seventh's children, and was the playmate of his future king and bride. The prince, as he increased in years, seems to have carried the idea of Brandon with him like that of a second self; and the princess, whose affection was not hindered from becoming personal by any thing sisterly, nor on the other hand allowed to waste itself in too equal familiarity, may have felt a double impulse given to it by the great improbability of her ever being suffered to become his wife. Royal females in most

countries have certainly none of the advantages of their rank, whatever the males may have. Mary was destined to taste the usual bitterness of their lot; but she was amply repaid. At the conclusion of the war with France, she was married to the old king Louis the Twelfth, who witnessed from a couch the exploits of her future husband at the tournaments. The doings of Charles Brandon that time were long remembered. The love between him and the young queen was suspected by the French court; and he had just seen her enter Paris in the midst of a gorgeous procession, like Aurora come to marry Tithonus. He dealt his chivalry about him accordingly with such irresistible vigour, that the Dauphin, in a fit of jealousy, secretly introduced into the contest a huge German, who was thought to be of a strength incomparable. But Brandon grappled with him, and with seeming disdain and detection so pummelled him about the head with the hilt of his sword, that the blood burst through the vizor. Imagine the feelings of the queen, when he came and made her an offering of the German's shield. Drayton, in his Heroical Epistles, we know not on what authority, tells us that on one occasion during the combats, perhaps this particular one, she could not help saying out loud," Hurt not my sweet Charles," or words to that effect. He then pleasantly represents her as doing away suspicion by falling to commendation of the Dauphin, and affecting not to know who the conquering knight was an ignorance not very probable; but the knights sometimes disguised themselves purposely.

The old king did not long survive his festivities. He died in less than three months, on the first day of the year 1515; and Brandon, who had been created Duke of Suffolk the year before, re-appeared at the French court, with letters of condolence, and more persuasive looks. The royal widow was young, beautiful, and rich and it was likely that her hand would be sought by many princely lovers; but she was now resolved to reward herself for her late sacrifice, and in less than two months she privately married her first love. The queen, says a homely but not mean poet (Warner, in his Albion's England,) thought that to cast too many doubts

Were oft to erre no lesse

Than to be rash: and thus no doubt
guesse,

The gentel queen did

That seeing this or that, at first
Or last, had likelyhood,
A man so much a manly man
Were dastardly withstood.
Then kisses revelled on their lips,
To either's equal good.

Henry shewed great anger at first, real or pretended; but he had not then been pampered into unbearable self-will by a long reign of tyranny. He soon forgave his sister and friend; and they were publicly wedded at Greenwich on the 13th of May.

It was during the festivities on this occasion, (at least we believe so, for we have not the chivalrous Lord Herbert's life of Henry the 8th by us, which is most probably the authority for the story; and being a good thing, it is omitted, as usual, by his historians,) that Charles Brandon gave a proof of the fineness of his nature, equally just towards himself, and conciliating towards the jealous. He appeared at a tournament on a saddle-cloth, made half of frize and half of cloth of gold, and with a motto on each half. One of the mottos ran thus:

The other:

Cloth of frize, be not too bold,

Though thou art match'd with cloth of gold.

Cloth of gold, do not despise,

Though thou art match'd with cloth of frize.

It is this beautiful piece of sentiment which puts a heart into his history, and makes it worthy remembering.

Indicator.

A SHORT ESSAY ON PUPPYISM.

THERE are puppies who have no canine appetites, who drink more than they eat, and sleep more than they live. There are puppies from the ducal coronet down to the shoeblack. Puppies of every complexion, size, stature, and denomination. There are puppies in crape, as well as in ermine; tie-wigs, as well as knockers; neither of the benches exclude them. They may be seen in the upper and the lower rooms, in Westminster Hall, and in Bridewell. They are generally cherished by the ladies, who consider them as innocent animals, and treat them like lap-dogs. They are admitted to female, (for there are male toilets,) and are

looked upon so insignificant that they are not noticed; a waiting maid is viewed with more circumspection; and a hair dresser is an animal of superior import: a dentist is a king; and a dancing master an emperor, compared to a dangling puppy. In the senate a puppy may be distinguished by the choice of hard words without any meaning, constantly speaking to every question without understanding it; addressing the chair without any address; joining the Treasury Bench, and dividing with the majority right or wrong; exclaiming against the licentiousness of the press, and the insolence of public writers, without having read them. In the pulpit, the stroking of a white hand and admiring it, with a ring, in the middle of a sermon; a simpering ogle, an affected lisp, and a circling gaze for admiration, particularly from the ladies, all denote the puppy. At the bar, an affected pronounciation and lugging in my lud and autority, without any sort of authority, browbeating witnesses, whose ignorance and embarrassment prevent them from acquitting themselves with propriety; asking improper questions, and straining the meaning of answers, all argue the puppy.

In medicine, a glaring chariot, a preposterous large bag, (for physic has thrown aside even the appearance of knowledge,) a pedantic selection of medical phrases; a dogmatic decision, an evasive replication, determine the puppy.

From this specimen the reader will be enabled to form some idea of puppyism in most situations. He will easily trace the puppy macaroni-the puppy sportsman-the puppy fox-hunter-the puppy critic-the puppy connoiseur -the puppy intriguer-the puppy hero of his own storyand even the puppy writer.

That I may not be classed under the last, by wearying the patience of the reader, I shall here terminate this essay, and declare myself a sworn foe to puppyism in every class and situation of life.

RULES FOR ACTORS.

If you are an actor of merit, whether in your own estimation or that of the public, always endeavour to impress a high consideration of your qualifications. Make it an invariable rule to demand a greater salary than you know will be