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prophecies and fears of his frightened courier at the idea of returning by so dangerous a road, and the indignant contempt with which he had received them.

Scarcely had they thus mutually intimated their knowledge of what would next occur, when the old squire broke out in the following strain :

There, Ellen, I told you how it would be, coming to these villainous countries. Why, such a thing has not happened in England these fifty years—nearly a century behind us in civilization-nothing to eat-starved to death -and robbed and insulted into the bargain. But, to think that any Italian scoundrel should presume to touch me! Thank heaven, he soon found I was not to be frightened ; if he had staid much longer he would have had the worst of it, after all. All your fault, Ellen, all your fault; I came here to please you, and these are the consequencesshall you

catch me abroad again." Oh, dearest papa,” replied Ellen, never mind, we are all safe, no harm is done, so pray forgive and forget; and let us proceed"

“Oh, yes, come along then, children,” (for the idea of advancing, even a step, towards his own country, put him in good humour), “ get into the carriage;" and in a moment, the servants closed the door, and the party proceeded, though not before Mr. Singleton had wasted his reproaches and execrations against the postilions, for not having assisted in defending the carriage. From this instant he resolved to get out of the country as soon as it was possible by the shortest route. In order, therefore, to avoid any further annoyance from robbers, impudent postilions, insolent officers at the Douanes, and, though last not least, the necessity of dining on little else but fried

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blackbirds and thrushes, or something equally repugnant to a palate which had been accustomed to the wholesome fare of Britain, he determined to embark by the first steam boat which should be destined for England.

In this intention he proceeded to Leghorn; where the inn was rather inferior even to what Mr. Singleton had hitherto found at other large towns; and therefore not calculated to sooth his ruffled temper. His dinner consisted, as usual, of bad broth, inferior fish, abominable cutlets swimming in grease, and that fundamental feature of an Italian repast, the eternal entrée of miserable small birds. As may be supposed, Mr. Singleton eat little or nothing, but contented himself with selecting the least objectionable portion of this detestable fare for his daughter; while he allowed his thoughts to wander from his past and present sufferings, to the pleasing prospect of soon reaching England.

Before, however, the dinner had concluded, he could not refrain from remarking, that it was the day of the Derby in England;“ where," added he, “instead of being here, eating this wretched trash in this rascally hole, I should have been witnessing that noble British scene, and now enjoying (having won my thousand) iced champagne, capital pigeon pie, cold roast beef and cucumber, &c. &c., and then bound back to London in my barouche and four -to the great city of the world.”

These were Mr. Singleton's feelings the whole of that evening ; nor did his mind get a moment's peace from that time till the moment when he landed safely on the pier of Dover; when he instantly hurled his hat into the air, and thanked Heaven for his safe return to Old England, and all its blessings.

We must not forget to add, that cousin Lionel, by his great and devoted attention and cheerfulness during the whole of this adventurous and disastrous tour, won the old gentleman's heart; and obtained his consent to his marriage with the beautiful Ellen.

A SEA FIGHT-IN THE DISTANCE.

BY J. H. LOWTHER, M.P.

All nature smiles—the heaven serene,
Sheds a soft light around the scene.
The sun declining in the west,
Proclaims the coming hour of rest,
While lingering still, the beams of day
Sport on the ocean's rippled way.
No sounds are heard-no murmurs, save
The breaking of the sluggish wave,
Or, by the gales of evening blown,
Faint echoes from the distant town.
With eager step, I haste to reach
The limits of the sandy beach,
And hail with rapturous delight
The beauties of the radiant sight.
Light skiffs in countless number reign
O'er the bright surface of the main :
The brawny fishers cease their toil,
And homeward bear the weighty spoil.
Afar, two cruisers boldly ride,
Whose daring acts had long defied
The British flag; yet they no more
Are doomed to reach their native shore.

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