site wall, between the portraits of General Wash-away, she cast one glance towards the window of ington and Mr. Pitt. I was perfectly enchanted the Inn; it was quite deserted. I neither stirred with my good mien. I was cut and curled in the most becoming manner." and stood and talked for some minutes. It was an open carriage; the young lady was leaning thoughtfully against one of the cushions. The officer talked longer; at length he bowed, and they drove away. I was standing before a druggist's shop, supporting myself on the brass-railing that protected it. As the carriage whirled rapidly past, was still leaning back against the cushions, and the remains of the nosegay were beside her. As she passed, she extended the hand, whiter than snow, which held it, over the side of an open carriage, pressed it for an instant to her breast, her lips, and dropped it gently at my feet. I started forward to receive the precious gift "Oh! don't believe him," cried my wife, interrupting me: "it is all a romance; it is indeed, I never looked-I never meant-I I interrupted her in my turn, and seizing the hand she extended in the energy of the moment, I pressed it, as she had done the nosegay she gave me. nor spoke, but I saw from her brightened color she was aware who stood beside her. She held a Here my wife laughed aloud; my friend, too, small nosegay in her hand. She began to pull to smiled; but I took no notice of their interruption. pieces the flowers which composed it, and she "The Inn stood back from the street, in a large scattered the leaves upon the pavement. Istoopcourtyard, the projecting walls of which, on each ed to gather them. A carriage was in waiting at side, prevented any view beyond. Across this the end of the street; it drew up as the party apcourtyard numbers of people were constantly pass-proached. A footman opened the door, and let ing. I sat down at the open window of my parlor down the steps, and the recruiting officer handed to watch the various groups thus flitting before me. the ladies into it. He laid his arm upon the door, One, in particular, at once engaged my attention; it consisted of an elderly lady in grey, a child in a frock and trowsers, a young lady in white, with pink upon her bonnet, and the captain of a recruiting company quartered in the town. He was apparently saying something extremely amusing, for the young lady was laughing violently; and, looking up in her mirth, she threw on me, as II ventured one glance at the pink bonnet. She sat perched at my window, a pair of the most beautiful black eyes I had ever then seen. I fancy mine must have told her so, for she had not gone many steps before she raised those eyes again. Again they met mine; and this time, we both blushed. She withdrew hers quickly, and turned to the recruiting officer: he bowed as in the act of speaking. The lady in grey appeared to join the conversation, and they all walked leisurely on towards the projecting wall. Will she look up again? I pushed my well-curled head out of the window, she held hers, I thought, resolutely down. I followed them with my eyes, as they stepped along across the pavement. They reached the wall. The little child ran quickly out of sight. The lady in grey was half concealed. The young lady turned to reply to some gallantry of the recruiting officer, and once more her eyes were fixed on mine. In another moment she was gone. I drew my head in hastily, flung my hands before my face, to exclude all light; and again, in fancy, those beautiful eyes beamed brightly upon me. After a few minutes I looked up. Crowds of gay passengers still moved on the pavement below, and talked, and laughed, and looked, as they passed me. Will she come again? I took out my watch: it was only three o'clock. Again I glanced at the projecting wall, and I followed eagerly, each succeeding group, as they emerged from behind it. Many a voice deceived me as it approached. Many a party turned the corner to disappoint Four o'clock: she will not come. I rose from the window in despair. As I stood, the sound of a voice I had heard before arrested my attention. There was a laugh, and a stamp, and a jingling noise, and the end of a sword-scabbard pointed out beyond the wall. Did he come alone? The little child ran forward; the lady in grey put out a foot; and again the eyes from the pink bonnet sought the window. We blushed crimson. The young lady turned to her never-failing resource, the recruiting officer. I darted forward, seized my hat, rushed down stairs, and followed her. They had reached the hair-dresser's shop, and they had stepped before it to examine some of his curiosities. The lady in grey took the little child by the hand, and walked on. The young lady prepared to follow her; but as she moved me. Curiosity and Cupid. BY CHARLES DIBDIN, THE YOUNGER. Went carelessly singing one day; "Ah! where pretty urchin," said she, Curiosity would with him hie, His secret to win by the way; She said, "What is that, like a dart, You fear from your bosom to move?" Curiosity came, as they went, To where a fair youth lay asleep; That instant her guide drew the dart, "My secrets," he cried, "you would prove; And (while laughing, he aim'd at her heart,) You'll find them as teasing as Love." Children. to become a murderer, and necessity compelled the rich man to be murdered. But trace any cause up to its effect, and the result will be the same. Fate is omnipotent, and inclination is its slave. The Waltz. Ir is a mistaken notion that the feelings of children are not as acute as those of adults. In many instances they are more so; a child of much sensibility suffers more than a man, because the lat ter, from intercourse with the world, from the influence of religion or philosophy, is rendered less As many of the retired matrons of this city, unsensitive or better able to keep his feelings under skilful in gestic lore,' are doubtless ignorant of proper control; but the child, in the naked inno- the movements and figures of this modest exhibicence of nature, influenced only by its sympa- tion, I will endeavor to give some account of it in thies and impulses, and ignorant of the world and order that they may learn what odd capers their of its learning, receives impressions of pain or daughters sometimes cut when from under their pleasure so readily, that time frequently finds it guardian wings. On a signal being given by the difficult to erase them. The pleasures of child- music, the gentleman seizes the lady round her hood are rapturous enjoyments-ecstacies-felici- waist; the lady, scorning to be outdone in courties: heaven appears to shine upon its joys with a tesy, very politely takes the gentleman rourd the most radiant light. Kindness, gentleness, and neck with one arm resting against his shoulder to love, are the ingredients of the atmosphere it prevent encroachments. Away then they go, breathes. Its griefs are sorrowful pains-mise- about and about-'About what, sir?' About the ries-agonies; the shadows of despair appear to room, madam, to be sure. The whole economy shroud them in impenetrable darkness; unkind- of this dance consists in turning round and round ness, disappointment, and regret, create the the room in a certain measured step, and it is truly wretchedness of its existence. The child is in- astonishing that this continued revolution does not fluenced by the philosophy of the heart, not of the set all their heads swimming like a top; but I have mind; and the former encourages the growth of been positively assured that it only occasions a those feelings, which, until worldly knowledge, gentle sensation which is marvellously agreeable. with all its selfishness, has taken possession of its nature, occasion his peculiar sensibility. Brute Strength. In the course of this circumnavigation, the dancers, in order to give the charm of variety, are continually changing their relative situationsnow the gentleman, meaning no harm in the world, I assure you, madam, carelessly flings his WHAT Constituted the superiority of the great arm about the lady's neck, with an air of celestial heroes of antiquity,—and, I may say, the most impudence; and anon, the lady, meaning as little heroic men of all times? Discover it-scrutinize harm as the gentleman, takes him round the waist it-analize it:-it's mere brute strength! What with most ingenious, modest languishment, to the made those great men great? Take them all, great delight of numerous spectators and amateurs, from Hercules-or, if you place no credit in his who generally form a ring, as the mob do about a fame, from Samson, whose feats are equally in- pair of amazons pulling caps, or a couple of mascredible-down to Shaw, the Life-guardsman:- tiffs. After continuing this divine interchange of 'tis nothing but mere brute strength. Well, ha- hands, arms, et cetera, for half an hour or so, the ving considered man in his physical condition, let lady begins to tire, and with eyes up-raised,' in us inquire into his moral state. First of all, it is most bewitching langour, petitions her partner for easily proved that he is not a free agent; his own a little more support. This is almost given withreason tells him that certain actions are destruc-out hesitation. The lady leans gently on his tive of his own happiness, and injurious to the shoulder; their arms entwine in a thousand seduwelfare of the community; yet he commits those cing mischievous curves-don't be alarmed, inaactions, and the world calls them crimes: he feels that there is an overpowering necessity at work that impels him to act; he acts accordingly, and that act is either criminal in itself, or leads to crime. Nothing he does proceeds from his will: all his actions are the result of necessity. I will prove this: a rich man travels along a road,behind him is a poor man; the poor man thinks that, if he had the rich man's wealth he should be free from hunger and poverty. He cannot resist such thoughts: he sees the rich man in a lonely place, secure from every kind of observation, and he feels convinced that he could easily deprive him of his wealth: he cannot help feeling that conviction. The poor man robs the rich man : he is obliged to do so. The poor man then thinks that he should be more secure from punishment if the rich man was dead; or, the rich man struggles to preserve his property, and the poor man, to obtain it, makes use of violence. The poor man murders the rich man, and buries the body in the earth. Necessity compelled the poor man dam-closer and closer they approach each other, Excuse for Sadness. CHIDE not, beloved, if oft with Thee To streams that glide in noon, the shade Thine image glass'd within my soul The shadow also sleepeth.-Bulwer. ORIGINAL. Liberty. BY T. A WORRALL, ESQ. I. RICH glory hath the past: The things which have been, but which now are not Though night is o'er them cast, Yet it is well that all is not forgot! In the long line of Empire's onward tread, The present will be past, with its remember'd dead! Thou hadst thy day-but thou wast cheated too : The guerilla's free, All others slaves, where Palafox was true!Beautiful clime, thy curse is Priesthood's hand, A living leprosy, spread round the land! X. Turn to the rocky steep, Where Liberty enhances human worth- Turn to the hour, when nation's had their birth, Where cloud-capt mountain peaks arise, Where beautiful are Autumn's skies, To hew their wood, and draw their water- The Bewildered Wife. BY JOHN H. HEWETT, ESQ. COME, take the gentle harp of sorrow, And spreads it to the dewy shower, Of jessamine I'll make his bower. Come, then, my harp-still wrapt in sadness, The warlike theme with hurried numbers, |