PATCHWORK. "A thing of shreds and patches."-Shakespeare. BUONAPARTE -One trait of character displayed itself in his last moments which shewed the "Ruling passion strong in death." When Buonaparte found his end rapidly approaching, he begged to be dressed in his full uniform, with boots and spurs, and placed on a favourite camp-bed on which he was accustomed to sleep when in health, and which he preferred to every other. Thus habited, he who once had ruled the world, bade the world adieu. His last words were "Mons fils," and he afterwards imperfectly articulated, "Teté d'armies," and "France." His last moments were cheered by the faithful attentions of General Bertrand and his lady, Count Montholon, and such of his suite as had preserved their attachment to their master in the lowest of his fortunes-his exile. A lady of rank was reproaching a Turkish ambassador with that part of the religion of Mahomet which permits a plurality of wives. "It permits it, Madam," replied the ambassador, "to enable us to find, in several, all the qualities which are united in you alone." There are few ladies who would not have agreed in the force of such an argument. SCRIPTURAL AUTHORITY.-An electioneering candidate calling on a Quaker on a Sunday to solicit his vote, the latter reprehended him, by reminding him of the commandment," thou shalt do no manner of work, &c." "Very true friend,” replied the candidate, "but there is another passage, which seems to have escaped your recollection, make your calling and election sure.' A PUZZLE FOR THE CURIOUS.*-A traveller leaving an inn, requested change for a guinea, which the landlord gave him in twenty-one pieces of English coin, among which there was neither sixpence, shilling, or half-a-crown. Query, what pieces were they? SOLUTIONS TO THE ABOVE. A Housewife seldom gets a guinea, 1. Two half-sovereigns, 4 twopenny pieces, I halfpenny, 14 farthings. 2. Two half-sovereigns, 2 twopenny pieces, 5 penny pieces, 12 farthings. 3. Two half-sovereigns, I twopenny piece, 6 penny pieces, 4 halfpennies, 8 farthings. t 4. One sovereign, 6 penny pieces, 10 halfpence, 4 farthings. 5. One sovereign, 4 penny pieces, 16 halfpennies. 6. One sovereign, 9 penny pieces, I halfpenny, 10 farthings. 7. One sovereign, 2 penny pieces, 14 halfpennies, 4 farthings. 8. One sovereign, I twopenny piece, penny, 18 halfpennies. 9. One half-guinea, I half-sovereign, 5 halfpennies, 14 farthings. 10. One half-guinea, I half-sovereign, I penny, 2 halfpennies, 16 farthings. 11. Two half-sovereigns, twopenny pieces, 2 penny pieces, 9 halfpennies, 6 farthings. 12. Two half-sovereigns, 5 pennies, 14 halfpennies. ANN D'E*n. ANSWER TO RIDDLE II. IN No. XXIII. The trifling follies of a nation, HVé. My First's of a race, does in plenty abound, My second by many is often abused, But proves a great blessing when properly used, II. JANE. Children I leave fatherless, I also widows make; In stables and on board of ship I'm gen'rally in view. Notices of Public Exhibitions, Paintings, &c. will be given, if FREE ADMISSIONS are sent to the Editor for that purpose. We request that all Communications to the Editor may * This Query appeared so long back, that we give it with the be sent post-paid) early in the week, to Mr. Marshall, solution, to save the reader the trouble of reference. 164, Fleet Street. ANSWER TO RIDDLE I. IN No. XXIII. Do we not see the Dust oft mar our eyes? J. W. H. H., Royal Navy. Published, in Weekly Numbers and Monthly Parts, at the Office, No. 49, Hollywell-street, Strand (where Orders for the Work should be addressed), and sold by all Booksellers in Town and Country. Printed by J. R. Marshall, 164, Fleet-street. DESCRIPTION OF THE ENGRAVING. EVENING DRESS.-It is composed of white crape over satin. The body is cut low round the bust, sits close to the shape, is laced behind, and a little pointed. The front forms three points at the bottom; the top sleeves, of a very novel form, are trimmed, as is also the bust, with blond lace arranged in manner that is very advantageous to the shape. Bouffant sleeves, very wide and descending nearly to the elbow; they are trimmed at the bottom with a full fall of blond lace. The skirt is adorned round the border with very deep vandykes, they are edged with satin roleaus, and ornamented with a bouquet of flowers embroidered in gold in the centre of each: a wreath of flowers also embroidered in gold, ascends from the point of each vandyke to the top of the skirt. The beret is composed of gold lama, a low crown, the front rather large, but of a very graceful and becoming form; a single white ostrich feather is inserted in the front on the left side, and droops over to the right, and a bouquet of white ostrich feathers placed at the bottom of the crown fall in different directions. The neck-chain and ear-rings are of gold and sapphires, and the scarf of white gauze, embroidered with gold. FASHIONS OF THE WEEK. We understand that bonnets of Dunstable straw are likely to be very fashionable during the early part of the summer. The prettiest, and those most likely to be in favour, have the brims much smaller and more open than those of last year; the crowns are about the same height, but trimmed behind with a few rows of straw disposed in the style of a curtain. Bonnets intended for very young ladies, have no other trimming in general than a plain gros de Naples ribbon, green, blue, lilac, or rose; it is brought round the crown, crossed in front of it, and descends obliquely upon the brim, tying in a full bow under the chin. This simple kind of trimming is well calculated for walking dress, and we have seen it adopted by some very genteel young people. We have observed also several bonnets of the finest kind of straw, lined with white satin, and trimmed with white satin ribbons in small bows-this is a simple and elegant style of decoration, but more suitable for carriage than for walking dress. Some new spring shawls have appeared, they are of white French cachemire about five quarters square; the borders are certainly of new patterns, and we believe, strictly speaking, of oriental patterns; but they are exceedingly ugly, and of very glaring colours; they are about seven inches in depth. Some (in our opinion) much prettier, are also of white cachemire with a fringe only. Fancy black, which from the lateness of the season ought to be going out of favour, seems to be a good deal in request for social evening parties, and particularly for the theatres. Nothing is esteemed more elegant than a black lace canezou over a lemon-coloured, green, or lilac gros de Naples dress. The most novel are rounded behind, and trimmed with very broad lace, which is disposed full upon the shoulders to form half sleeves; the canezou takes the shape of a heart in front, and the trimming becomes gradually narrower from the point of the shoulder to the waist; a narrower lace, but of the same pattern, is disposed in a ruche round the top, and ties at the throat with a bow of ribbon to correspond with the dress; the points of the canezou are concealed under the waist-ribbon, which also fastens with a cord in front. "Sitting and surveying thus at ease Cowper's Task. Miss B. Bloomer, what has become of the Poodle? he never attends Council now. the next time he wishes to pay eightpence for sending a letter which only raises our contempt. The FOOL ought to be taught that "Immoral words admit of no defence, For want of decency is want of sense." Miss S. OCTAVIUS-Lines on Woman, (Hands the letter to Miss B.) He promises, if they appear, he will become a Correspondent. Miss B. Does OCTAVIUS suppose we are to be gulled by such lines as ORIGINAL? The whole poem is concocted from half-a-dozen different pieces by good writers, with a few lines of his own thrust in, as an attempt to join so many broken links, and make a chain. The SENSE belongs to others-the NONSENSE Octavius has himself supplied. What else? Miss S. A Reflection, by EDWARD. Miss B. WE must REFLECT before we give an answer. (A pause.) Yes, it shall appear, though of too sombre a shade for our pages. Why will no Correspondent worship the LAUGHING MUSE? Miss B. My dear Miss S., it is, I assure you, full as unpleasant to me to reject their communications as doubtless it is for them to receive such a fiat; but I appear before the public responsible for what is inserted in our pages. In justice to my own judgment-in justice to the taste and good sense of our readers-I cannot and will not put communications into the work of which I do not approve. To pass opinions on others who think themselves (and probably are) equal if not superior in talent to ourselves, is the most unpleasant part of an Editor's duty; but to discharge it HONESTLY, without "favour or affection" to any-to be "open to all, influenced by none"-is the only plan an Editor has to pursue. WE know the thorns in the path of Literature--have felt them often-and grieve whenever we are obliged to make a fellow-traveller tread on them in his road to Fame. Here are Riddles and answers in abundance. C. S. F., Miss B. We have before said we can only insert one answer: those answers that have not appeared shall be inserted. The little poem by ELIZABETH MARY would not do the authoress the credit she might gain if she paid more attention to avoid the change of person, which is always bad, though frequently passed over in poets Mrs. B. There are literary puppies enough without who ought to know better: we mean in one line addressOUR adding to the number; so I never bring him, Ladying the butterfly as you," in the next "thou." Will the young lady give her address? and we will return the poem for correction. Now, Widow, I see you are impatient. What is your present study? President. Miss B. (laughing.) And a very good reason, certainly. Now, fair Secretary, to business. Miss S. A letter from Miss LACY. contains many excellent receipts, and we recommend it strongly to all young housekeepers Mrs. B. The Cook is the little book I hold in my Miss B. Our talented Correspondent and kind coad-hand, a very useful and tasty weekly contemporary; it jutor. It is to inform us that she has lost the MSS. of last contribution which appeared in our pages, and she requests we will notice it, in case any person having found the article should send it as original to some other periodical! No one would do so we should think, but in these days of literary piracy there is no saying. Miss S. A letter-the post-mark IPSWICH. Miss B. The FELLOW who wrote it (for 'tis no female) is informed that we have those about us who can wield a horsewhip as well as a pen. He had better write to them Miss B. Will "the Cook" send us a specimen of its art, and then we shall be better judges. Marmalade is very good with tea, ladies, is it not? ALL THE SUBS. Oh, delicious. We can review that, Lady President. Mrs. B. Here is something to please the appetite of FANCY, "The Port Admiral," by the author of Cavendish. Miss B. Oh! I have heard much of it: pray an extract from the novel, Bloomer. read us Mrs. B. "The Port Admiral," strictly speaking, is not a novel, but an historical tale. However, I shall read you a few pages from the fictitious and romantic part; perhaps for some of my hearers it will have more general interest. (Reads.) "The doors were thrown open, and the bridal party entered. The nave had been covered with cloth, and their footsteps were therefore inaudible. The first figure that Crosier's eyes discovered was the Port Admiral in full dress: upon his arm there leant a female figure; but it was too mean-too short for Margarita Salisbury! and yet those robes of white satin, bespangled with pearls, bespoke the bride. Again it tottered, and trembled almost to sinking, even on the arm of the venerable old officer. Presently they came more fully into.view. No-that fragile form, though bent and haggard, was far too slight for age. They approached the altar-she took her stand, turned, looked up-the light fell on her countenance, and did indeed reveal to Crosier's maddened gaze the faded lineaments of her who was the beloved of his soul. Yes, it was no other than Margarita, her careworn cheek streaming with tears! Scarcely could Crosier contain himself as he viewed that countenance so sadly altered since last he beheld it: to his mind it told of far deeper anguish than even that which had wrung it in starvation. Every scene of the past at once rushed on his memory, and he shook like one under the influence of the ague. "Oh, heaven!" he mentally exclaimed, "Wretch that I am, have I indeed deserved this torturing punishment? If so, then have my enormities been great indeed! to think that I should have existed to experience this hour, when her eyes can behold, and yet fail to recognise me !" Muffled up, however, as he was in his large French cloak, with his ample Travelling cap slouched over his eyes, it would indeed have been a difficult thing for his dearest friend to have penetrated his disguise, much less the lovely victim who stood at the altar, while all her thoughts and affections were with him whom she fancied far off in a foreign land! Her eyes wandered round the church, it is true, and they saw the strange and lonely figure sitting in that little gallery; but her mind was too intensely preoccupied to be conscious of any thing which passed before her sight. The service now began, and Crosier found himself voiceless from agitation bordering on frenzy, unable to collect his thoughts so as to form the barest idea of what he ought to do. He could only now sit franticly gazing at the prize now drawn from his reach for ever. The minister who performed the service possessed a remarkably clear voice, and what was rather unusual, read the ceremonial in a distinct tone, every word of which Crosier heard, and felt it like a poignard planted in his breast. As for Margarita, she no longer appeared to be the same being as the Margiée of former days; her polished energy, her spirit, her gentle determination, seemed gone, as if struck down by the long continuance of the dreadful storm that had poured its fury over her, she was now like the crushed reed, never to rise more! It was by her vainly stifled sobs alone that she offered any interruption to the ceremony. Her father was at her elbow, trying to console her, while the bridegroom pronounced the responses in a manner that, for a foxhunter, was quite feeling. Several times did Crosier attempt to utter some soundsome exclamation that might attract the attention of the bride, but his nerveless tongue seemed to cleave to the roof his mouth; his faithless lips mutely refused to obey their office. Still the service proceeded, hope swiftly flying from poor Crosier's breast, or only lingering to suggest that the pangs which now agonized him might haply be those of a breaking heart. The solemn charge was quickly finished, and neither had affirmed any impediment to exist between them, when the priest proceeded to address the bridegroom, requiring at his hands the several conditions of the holy state. Pendervis, in his usual imperturbable voice, answered, "I will." Then turning to the weeping bride, the clergyman repeated the appropriate question, asking whether she would " obey him and serve him, love, honour, and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all other, keep herself only unto him, as long as they should live?" With glaring eyeballs, Crosier listened to each particle of this solemn address, till unable any longer to sit silent, he started up, dashed 66 his hands wildly to his forehead, and before the slightest murmur of assent could fall from her lips, the sacred building re-echoed to the agonized groan that forced its way from his breast, while his cap fell heavily on the pews considering it to be the mere and usual results of bashfulbelow. The clergyman, pitying Margarita's distress, and ness and confusion, was whispering in her ear the necessary response, “I will," but startled at the noise, she looked up. With the utmost rapidity of thought, she recognised Crosier's anxious, haggard countenance, no longer concealed by his cap, and wildly shrieking forth, "No, never!" fell back into her father's arms. Quick as lightning, Crosier leapt on the pews below, and springing to the rails of the altar, was in another second by her side. As for the Port Admiral himself, he seemed less astounded than his daughter, but as the latter demanded all his care, and divided his attention, he would only exclaim, as he supported her in his arms, Quick, here, quick! some water for your lives! Heaven defend me-Captain Crosier, is it you? Bear a hand, I say, with some water-Lady Sapphira-ladiesbridesmaids-quick! Margarita's dying! It's all your fault, Crosier, the plagues of Egypt on it-dropping from the sky in that way without so much as saying, Stand from under. See! she's coming too; hold up her head, Crosier. Where in the name of fortune did you come from? I can't think for the life of me. How are ye now, Margiée, darling? Devilish imprudent of you, though I'm glad to see you once more. I thought there was something between the pair of you. Bear a hand I say there on the right! open that window, and let the air in. Shift her head a little more yet, Crosier, so." Obeying these last instructions, but unheeding Sir Richard's other ejaculations, Crosier tenderly watched over the beloved sufferer, as conscious. ness returned. She revived-she saw those cherished features anxiously looking into hers for recognition, as she had seen them once before, and putting forth her arms as if to satisfy herself that it was no cheat of her disordered brain, she drew her cheek to his, and, convinced of the reality, burst into tears of joy. This quick transition so much alarmed her father, that he insisted on replacing her in the carriage immediately, and waiting for an explanation of this extraordinary scene until they reached the house." Miss B. It is very interesting: I must read the whole work. Mrs. B. The character of Rannolini, who proves to be no less a personage than Napoleon Buonaparte himself, is well sustained, and the incognito preserved to the last. I do not, however, approve of the violent strain of invective the author indulges in against the British Government respecting its treatment of this great man. However we may admire his many wonderful qualities, we ought not to forget that he was the enemy of our NATIVE COUNTRY, and would have been the destroyer of OUR liberty, if we had not curtailed HIS. At this distance of time such remarks are peculiarly ill chosen: an author, and one who writes works for amusement only, should guard against raising all unpleasant excitement in the public mind. of Enter Mrs. Modish and Miss Harmonica. Miss B. Well, ladies, you are strangers. Mrs. M. Don't say a word-we saw the last report Council-next Easter we will stay at home. Miss B. Well, what have you got to tell us now? delighted with the Concerts of the GERMAN MINSTRELS. Miss H. Of morning amusements, I have been much The melodies of some of their songs are beautiful, and their voices are heard to great advantage, being unaccompanied by any instrument. One ballad (in English called "The Bride's Departure,") was exquisitely sung by C. Otto, who I believe is also the composer. The quartette, "The Sword-song of Körner," is a most effective composition, and here the fine base voice of F. Otto is heard to great advantage. But I must attend another morning, as once is not sufficient to judge of the whole Concert. In my way I looked in at Saville House, and heard the INFANT TAGLIONI sing the pretty song of "Cupid flies on golden wings," with if possible increased archness and naiveté. Miss B. What of the Theatres, fair Reporters? lies. Mrs. B. Can you give no account of the English Opera or Haymarket? splendid spectacle of The Giant Horse. It is magnifi- | must be the son of my honorable friend Lord Everton. cently "got up," to use the technical phrase, and is well And who, my dear, in the name of St. Stephen, is worth seeing, especially for the junior branches of fami- Jessie Somers?" "She was that beautiful girl, Sir, that The Theatre has been handsomely decorated, and played so exquisitely on the"-" fiddle-stick," interthe drop scene, representing a Roman circus, with a combat of wild animals, is one of the most beautiful and effec-rupted the parent, "who were her father and mother?" tive specimens of scenic illusion I have ever witnessed. Miss Lumley was at a loss, "she had never heard Viewed from the front boxes, the whole has the appear- Miss Somers speak of them; Lord Everton was the ance of reality. I spent a few hours also at the QUEEN's young lady's guardian." Mr. Lumly looked aghast at his beautiful daughter for a moment, but quickly Theatre a few nights since, and was much pleased with The Rake's Progress. Certainly some of the scenes are recovering his settled stern aspect, desired her to return overcoloured (at least I hope so for the honour of human to the drawing-room, and for the future not to occupy nature), but it is a piece likely to have a good moral his newspaper more than half an hour. Poor Louisa! effect on some minds. A Mr. Green (not the old favourite at this Theatre) played the difficult part of Tom hers had been a solitary life since she had left the Rakewell excellently, and Fanny Moreland found a very fashionable seminary where she had remained a close inmate since the day she landed in England from her lovely representative in a Miss Malcolm. father's estate, which was the sunny isle of her birth. Of her mother Miss Lumly had but a faint recollection, and the picture which memory still loved to pourtray was sad; the agonized countenance, and convulsive sob, yet lingered unchanged on imagination. Years had elapsed since Louisa had heard of her mother's decease, and she had long since forbore to solve the obscure mystery which seemed to envelop her unhappy fate: and the frown that darkened Mr. Lumly's brow was so considerably augmented if her name was ever mentioned, that few had the temerity to provoke it. Louisa had now been at home from the commencement of the season, or at least Mr. Lumly's season; for reader, you must know that Mr. Lumly was, notwithstanding a few paradoxical reasons, a fashionable man; that is, he came to Town when the Opera House opened, and left it on its closing; but happily for the nation at large, the good people of Yhad at the late election returned the wealthy Mr. Lumly as one of their Members in Parliament. Mrs. M. I have not visited either of them yet, and probably shall not at all. As it is our rule, you know, never to give an account of what we have not actually seen with our own eyes, and heard with our own ears,' it would be against the law to report of places I have not visited, as I believe many persons do. 66 Miss B. You are quite right. Our work does not depend for success on its Theatrical Reports, and our readers are too liberal, we are sure, to expect us to pay four or five shillings every time we visit the Theatre, to furnish an account for which they only pay one penny. If any manager or person interested in a Dramatic performance think it worth while to send us an admission to notice what can only benefit themselves, we shall feel happy to give our time to do so; but as to paying for the public, we never will. On such points we are perfectly independent. I shall take a glance at the Surry and City Theatres before next week. Miss H. I must tell you, as a piece of intelligence connected with music and song, that the Royal Cambrian Institution will distribute its medals and prizes at the BARDIC MEETING in May, when the celebrated blind Minstrel of Carnarvon will perform on the triple-stringed harp. The Melodists' Club have also a meeting in June, when two silver goblets will be awarded to the successful candidates for the two best ENGLISH BALLADS. Miss B. Better try your success, Harmonica. Miss H. I have not so much vanity, but as I delight in the genuine style of English ballads, I hope it will awake the emulation of some of our best composers. Miss B. Twelve o'clock. Oh! ladies, what hours! they would make our grandmamas blush. "To bed to bed." SKETCHES OF SOCIETY. LOUISA LUMLY; OR, MARRIAGES IN FASHIONABLE LIFE. BY ELIZA HAMILTON. "Who would not be Mrs. De Vanly?" sighed the fair and innocent Louisa, as she returned to the library with the Morning Post, over the fashionable columns of which her eye had more than usually dwelt this morning; lingering o'er the details of the splendid nuptials of the envied Mrs. De Vanly, which were solemnized at St. George's the day prior. "You have exceeded your hour this morning," said her father as he pressed his repeater, "pray was there any important cause that effected this dereliction from your usual punctuality?" Louisa looked confused while she directed his attention to the paragraph. "Eh! eh!" said Mr Lumley, taking the paper from her hand, "the marriage of Jessie Somers and Sidney De Vanly His colleague was Lord Everton, father of Sidney De Vanly, whose marriage with Jessie Somers had created so great a sensation in the father and daughter. But how different those sensations-Miss Emily had been much attached to the beautiful bride who was about to make so splendid an entrée in the beau monde, and she could not suppress a slight agitation of the heart as her mind presented to her view the animated features of the handsome Sidney, when he had led her to the dance on one of the festive evenings which occasionally took place at the school, under the supertntendance of its professor. "Happy! happy Mrs. De Vanly!" again sighed Louisa, as she listlessly inclined her harp towards her delicately formed arm, while her eyes mechanically wandered around the magnificent objects which surrounded her but what was the cold splendour of her father's mansion to so warm, and so young a heart? Louisa was alone; and the poor bird near her that fluttered up and down the gold wires of his prison was scarcely so forlorn. And why was Miss Lumly so forlorn? Simply thus :--Mr. Lumly was an acknowledged eccentric, or rather what is usually termed a character. He was considered to pride himself in his novel method of introducing his daughter to the world, by concealing her from its gaze until an opportunity should offer which would meet the views of the political parent. Miss Lumly was a partial prisoner of state: she was never seen abroad after ten o'clock in the day, excepting on Sunday, when she went to church, and there she was almost suffocated from the ample folds of her immense veil. She received no |