if one of his cups, one of his plates, or one of his vases were to break, his lashes would be bathed in tears; groans and complaints would escape from his bosom; he would find in his heart a mine of poetic treasure to deplore the loss of his cup, his plate, or his vase; and he would be lost in astonishment were the rest of the world to remain insensible to his anguish. He would be capable of killing the man that should break the smallest particle of his possessions in soft clay. In fine, he would traverse conflagrations, purgatories, and the regions of the damned, to save the smallest saucer of soft clay that might be in danger of destruction; and he would not put his feet into water to save a drowning child! Love is a passion which renders ferocious those who experience it. M. de Menussard, with his black silk skull-cap, his greasy hat, his shabby coat, his upright and tarnished hair, his beard but indifferently cared for, his hands chilled by perpetual contact with earthenware, and his worn-out shoes, is, perhaps of all lovers and admirers of this age, the most fervent, the most sincere, the most true, the most enthusiastic, and, on that account, the most excusable in his selfishness and ferocity.

By the side of M. de Menussard may invariably be encountered, at the Auction Mart, on the Place de la Bourse, a celebrated collector of autographs, who possesses the writing of all famous personages: but within the last month, he has laboured under a mortal affliction-ten lines of Moliere's own writing escaped him, and became the property of a celebrated English amateur. He will not recover the shock; his days are numbered; he hears nothing-sees nothing, but walks about like a mise rable wretch on whom some inveterate fatality is heavily weighing. He considers himself as a dishonoured individual; his collection of autographs was once reputed to be the finest of all collections existing, and now it is only the second in rank.

M. de Menussard shrugs up his shoulders when he sees the collector of autographs; he even says that he is mad.

THE TULIP-IST FACTIONS.

In despite of Dogberry's assertion, we have selected from the two famous stories of these popular writers, now in progress of publication, two descriptions, highly characteristic of the style and tone of mind of their respective authors.

THE MURDER OF SIR ROWLAND TRENCHARD BY JONATHAN WILD.

As the signal was given, the Jew, who had been some time in expecta tion of it, darted swiftly and silently behind Sir Rowland, and flung a cloth over his head, while Jonathan rushing upon him in front, struck him several quick and violent blows in the face with the bludgeon. The cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate-so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers-familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,-looked aghast at it.

During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. It had been removed from the scabbard by the Jew. He uttered a deep groan, but said nothing.

Despatch him!" reared Jonathan.

he

Having no means of defence, Sir Rowland cleared the blood from his vision; and, turning to see whether there was any means of escape, descried the open door behind him leading to the Well Hole, and instantly darted through it. As I could wish!" cried Jonathan.

"Bring the light, Nab."

The Jew snatched up the link, and followed him.

Horticulturists took it into their heads one fine day, that yellow tulips were no longer beautiful, and were unworthy the admiration they had hitherto received; that the only tulips worth looking at, or cultivating, were those with white grounds. Henceforth, yellow tulips were to be banished, and their seeds scattered to the winds. Amateurs were not, however, undivided on the question. Letters, pamphlets, songs, and even thick quartos, were written on the subject. The yellow-tulip party were called obstinate, prejudiced, illiterate enemies to all improvement, and Jesuits; while the partisans of white tulips were pronounced to be inno-his assailants. Jonathan aimed a blow at him, which, if it had taken vators, democrats, and sans-culottes. Friends quarrelled, husbands and wives separated, and families were disunited. As M. Muller was one evening playing at dominoes with one of his oldest friends, tulips chanced to be mentioned. M. Muller was a yellow tulipist, while his friend sided || with the reformed partisans of the white ones. The celebrated composer, Mehul, himself a distinguished amateur, had just gone over to the white party. Being both well-bred men, M. Muller and his friend spoke with the greatest moderation, and appeared to avoid, with extreme care, the most distant approach to a dispute.

A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. The wounded man had descended the bridge, and dashed himself against the door beyond it; but, finding it impossible to force his way further, he turned to confront effect, must have instantly terminated the strife; but, avoiding this, he sprang at the thieftaker, and grappled with him. Firmly built, as it was, the bridge creaked in such a manner with their contending efforts, that Abraham durst not venture beyond the door, where he stood, holding the light, a horrified spectator of the scene. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. Disengaging his right arm. Jonathan struck his victim a tremendous blow on the head with the bludgeon that fractured his skull; and, exerting all his strength, threw him over the rails, to which he clung with the tenacity of despair.

"Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. "Spare me!" Jonathan, however, instead of answering him, searched for his knife, recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower banister, until that also relaxed its gripe.

"Nature," said M. Muller, as she has made nothing in vain, so has she produced nothing out of place. There is some beauty in every one of her productions. Why should amateurs rigidly exclude from their gar-with the intention of severing his wrist; but not finding it, he had again dens certain flowers? There are, undoubtedly, some white tulips that I would admit into my collection, were my garden large enough." "I also," replied his friend, not wishing to be behind in politeness and concessions, "I am ready to allow that the Erymanthe, all yellow as it is, is a very presentable flower."

"I do not condemn the Unique de Delphes, white as it is,” said M. Muller.

"But it is not very white," observed the friend; "it keeps for three or four days, the yellow tint that distinguishes it when the petals first open, and for this reason we do not esteem it much."

"Yet it is the one of all your collection I should prefer."

The two friends were on these excellent terms when Madame Muller left them to make tea. It would be difficult to ascertain by what imperceptible transactions the discussion warmed into a serious quarrel, until insults were exchanged. It is certain that when Madame Muller returned to the room, the table was overturned, the dominoes scattered over the carpet, while M. Muller and his friend, having seized each other by the hair, were engaged in a desperate struggle. It will be readily imagined with what feelings of shame the two antagonists were overwhelmed, after their anger had a little cooled. On the morrow, M. Muller wrote the following note to his friend :

"I am a brute, really worse than a bear. Pray receive my apologies, and for the sake of our old friendship let us forget this foolish affair. My wife begs of you to come and dine with us to-day. There will be a favourite dish of yours. Your friend,

MULLER.

"P. S.-Will you oblige me, my dear friend, by putting aside for me a few of your beautiful white tulips? I have reserved for them one of my best beds. I am particularly anxious for the Palamede and the Agate Royale."

Shortly after despatching the above, he received the following an

swer:

"I shall be with you a quarter before five. You will permit me, my dear friend, to introduce to you a horticulturist who desires to see your magnificent tulips, especially your Tenebreuse, your Julvecourt, and your delicate Lisa."

Out of compliment to his friend, M. Muller expressed his admiration for the whitest amongst the white tulips, while his friend was no less warm in his praise of the yellow specimens. However, this sudden change could only proceed from generous feeling between the two friends. M. Walter's concession passed away with the sentiment and impulse of the first moment; M. Muller's did not long survive his momentary enthusiasm. The poor white tulips were not half so well tended and cared for as the yellow. The second year, M. Muller thought they encumbered his garden; the third, they were placed near a water-spout, where they flowered badly; and M. Muller, after showing his visitors his fine collection of yel

Sir Rowland then fell.

On a fine, mild autumn day, when all was tranquil and at peace, when the soft sweet air crept in at the open window of the quiet room, and not a sound was heard but the gentle rustling of the leaves, Nicholas sat in his old place by the bedside, and knew that the time was nearly come. So very still it was, that every now and then he bent down his ear to listen for the breathing of him who lay asleep, as if to assure himself that life was still there, and that he had not fallen into that deep slumber from which on earth there is no waking.

While he was thus employed, the closed eyes opened, and on the pale face there came a placid smile. "That's well," said Nicholas. "The sleep has done you good." “I have had such pleasant dreams,” was the answer. "Such pleasant, happy dreams!"

"Of what?" said Nicholas. The dying boy turned towards him, and putting his arm about his neck, made answer, "I shall soon be there!"

After a short silence he spoke again.

"I am not afraid to die," he said, "I am quite contented. I almost think if I could rise from this bed quite well, I would not wish to do so now. You have so often told me we shall meet again-so very often lately, and now I feel the truth of that so strongly-that I can even bear to part from you."

The trembling voice and tearful eye, and the closer grasp of the arm

And now for the punishment of avarice!-Every body knows that the brethren of the order of Jesus are bound by a vow to have no more than a certain small sum of money in their possession. The principal of the college of Clermont had amassed a certain sum in defiance of this rule, and where do you think the old gentleman had hidden it?--in the honey pots as Cartouche dug his spoon into one of them, he brought besides a quantity of golden honey a couple of golden Louis, which with ninety-eight more of their fellows were comfortably hidden in the pots. Little Dominique, who before had cut quite a poor figure among his fellow-students, now apThe lives of great men can never be too much studied, and in conse-peared in as fine clothes as any of them could boast of, and when asked quence can never be out of place. Having no better news for the week, by his parents on going home how he came by them, said that a young noI will take the liberty of confiding to you the biography of a celebrated in-bleman of his school fellows had taken a violent fancy to him, and made dividual, whose history I have been studying for the last two or three days.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE YELLOWPLUSH CORRESPONDENCE," THE "MEMOIRS OF
MAJOR GAHAGAN, &C."
CARTOUCHE.

Madame Sevigné has given a very lively account of the exploits of Monsieur Louis Dominique Cartouche, and in many other contemporary records, his name is mentioned with applause: in the present rage for Jack Sheppards, Oliver Twists, and Newgate literature in general, it is pleasant to look abroad for histories of similar tendency, and to find that virtue is cosmopolite and exists among wooden-shoed Papists, as well as honest Church of England men.

Louis Dominique was born in a quarter of Paris called the Courtelle, says one historian, whose work lies before me-born in the Courtelle, and in the year 1693-another biographer asserts that he was born two years later in the Marais-of respectable parents of course. Think of the talent that our two countries produced about this time! Marlborough, Villars, Marroquin, Turpin, Boileau, Dryden, Swift, Addison, Moliere, Racine, Jack Sheppard, and Louis Cartouche, all famous within the same twenty years, and fighting, writing, robbing, a l'envié!

Well, Marlborough was no chicken when he began to show his genius; Swift was but a dull, idle, college-lad, but if we read the histories of some other great men mentioned in the above list-I mean the thieves especially—we shall find that they all commenced very early; they shewed a passion for their art as little Raphael did, or little Mozart, and the his-borne philosophically all the whippings and punishments which were ad tory of Cartouche's knaveries begin almost with their breeches.

could.

505 dignant father had in pickle for him. As he was coming home from school Cartouche after this did not care to meet his brother-in-law, but eschewon the first day after his crime, when he received permission to go abroad, ed all such occasions in which the latter was to be present at his father's one of his brothers, who was on the look-out for him, met him a short | house. The evening before the marriage came, and then his father indistance from home, and told him what was in preparation, which sisted upon his appearance amongst other relatives of the bride's and bride. so frightened the young thief that he declined returning home alto- groom's family, who were all to assemble and make merry. Cartouche gether, and set out upon the wide world to make shift for himself as he was obliged to yield, and brought with him one or two of his companions, who had been, by the way, present in the affair of the empty Undoubted as his genius was, he had not arrived at the full exercise of money-boxes. Cartouche never fancied that there was any danger it, and his gains were by no means equal to his appetite. In whatever pro-in meeting his brother-in-law, for he had no idea that he had been seen on fessions he tried-whether he joined the gipsies, which he did, whether he the night of the attack, but with a natural modesty which did him really picked pockets in the Pont Neuf, which occupation history also attributes credit, he kept out of the young bridegroom's sight as much as he could to him-Cartouche was always hungry. Hungry and ragged he wanand showed no desire to be presented to him. At supper, however, as he dered from one place and profession to another, and regretted the honey-was sneaking stealthily down to a side-table, his father shouted after him, pots at Clermont, and the comfortable Soup and Bouilli at home. Ho, Dominique, come hither, and set opposite your brother-in-law !" Cartouche had an uncle, a kind man, who was a merchant, and had deal-which Dominique did, his friends following. The bridegroom pledged him ings at Rouen. One day walking on the quays of that city this gentleman saw a very miserable, dirty, starving lad, who had just made a pounce upon some bones and turnip-peelings that had been flung out on the quay, and was eating them as greedily as if they had been turkeys and truffles. The worthy man examined the lad a little closer-O heavens! it was their run-away Prodigal, it was little Louis Dominique! The merchant was touched by his case, and forgetting the night-caps, the honey-pots, and the rags and dirt of little Louis, took him to his arms, and kissed and hugged him with the tenderest affection. Louis kissed and hugged too, and blubbered a great deal—he was very repentant, as a man often is when he is hungry, and he went home with his uncle, and his peace was made, and his mother got him new clothes and filled his belly, and for a while Louis was as good a son as might be.

woman.

very gracefully in a bumper, and was in the act of making him a pretty speech, on the honour of an alliance with such a family, and on the pleasures of brother-in-lawship in general, when looking in his face-ye Gods, he saw the very man who had been filing at his money-chest a few nights ago! By his side too, sate a couple more of the gang-the poor fellow turned deadly pale and sick, and setting his glass down, ran quietly out of the room-for he thought he was in company of a whole gang of robbers. And when he got home-he wrote a letter to the elder Cartouche himself, humbly declining any connexion with his family.

Cartouche the elder, of course angrily asked the reason of such an abrupt dissolution of the engagement, and much to his horror he heard of his eldest son's doings. "You would not have me marry into such a family!" said the ex-bridegroom. And old Cartouche, an honest old But why attempt to balk the progress of genius?-Louis's was not to citizen, confessed with a heavy heart that he would not. What was he be kept down; he was sixteen years of age by this time, a smart hardy to do with the lad?-he did not like to ask for a lettre-de-cachet and shut young fellow, and what is more, desperately enamoured of a lovely washer-him up in the Bastille-he determined to give him a year's discipline at To be successful in your love, as Louis knew, you must have the Monastery of Saint Lazare. something more than mere flames and sentiment--a washer, or any other But how to catch the young gentleman? Old Cartouche knew that woman cannot live upon sighs only, but must have new gowns, and caps, were he to tell his son of the scheme, the latter would never obcy, and and a necklace every now and then, and a fine handkerchief, and silk stock-therefore he determined to be very cunning. He told Dominique that he ings, and a treat into the country, or to the play-how are all these to be was about to make a heavy bargain with the Fathers, and should require had without money? Cartouche saw at once that it was impossible, and a witness, so they stepped into a carriage together, and drove unsuspectas his father would give him none he was obliged to look for it elsewhere.ingly to the Rue Saint Denis; but when they arrived near the Convent He took to his old course, and lifted a purse here and a watch there, and Cartouche saw several ominous figures gathering round the coach, and found moreover an accommodating gentleman who took his wares off his felt that his doom was sealed. However, he made as if he knew nothing of the conspiracy, and the carriage drew up, and his father descended, and bidding him wait for a minute in the coach, promised to return to him.— Cartouche looked out,-on the other side of the way half a dozen men were posted, evidently with the intention of arresting him. Cartouche now performed a great and celebrated stroke of genius, which, if he had not been professionally employed in the morning he never could have executed. He had in his pocket a piece of linen which he had laid hold of at the door of some shop, and from which he quickly tore three suitable strips

hands.

one he tied round his head after the fashion of a night-cap, a second round his waist like an apron, and with the third he covered his hat, a round one with a large brim. His coat and his perriwig he left behind him in the carriage, and when he stepped out from it (which he did without asking the coachman to let down the steps), he bore exactly the appear

This gentleman introduced him into a very select and agreeable society, in which Cartouche's merit began speedily to be recognized, and in which he learned how pleasant it is in life to have friends to assist one, and how much may be done by a proper division of labour. Mr. Cartouche, in fact, formed part of a regular company or gang of gentlemen, who were associated together for the purpose of making war on the public and the law. Cartouche had a lovely young sister, who was to be married to a rich young nobleman from the provinces-as is the fashion in France, the parents had arranged the match among themselves, and the young people had never met until just before the time appointed for the marriage, when the bridegroom came up to Paris with his little duds, and settlements, and money. Now there can hardly be found in history a finer instance of devo-ance of a cook's boy carrying a dish, and with this he stepped through the tion than Cartouche now exhibited. He went to his Captain, explained the matter to him, and actually, for the good of his country as it were, (the thieves might be called his country) sacrificed his sister's husband's property. Informations were taken, the house of the bridegroom was reconnoitered, and one night Cartouche, in company with some chosen friends, made his first visit to the house of his brother-in-law. As the people were gone to bed, and therefore, for fear of disturbing the porter, Cartouche and his companions spared him the trouble of opening the door, by ascending quietly at the window. They arrived at the room where the bridegroom kept his great chest, and set industriously to work filing and picking the locks which defended the treasure.

exempts quite unsuspected, and bade adieu to the Lazarists and his hones father, who came out speedily to seek him, and was not a little annoyed to find only his hat and wig.

With that hat and wig, Cartouche left home, father, friends, conscience, remorse, society, behind him. He discovered (like a great number of other philosophers and poets, when they have committed rascally actions) that the world was all going wrong, and he quarrelled with it outright. One of the first stories told of the illustrious Cartouche, when he became professionally and openly a robber, redounds highly to his credit, and shows that he knew how to take advantage of the occasion, and how much he hạd ingenuity were vastly admired by his friends; so much so, that one day improved in the course of a very few years' experience. His courage and the captain of the band thought fit to compliment him, and vowed that when he (the captain) died, Cartouche would infallibly be called to the command in chief. This conversation, so flattering to Cartouche, was carried on between the two gentlemen, as they were walking one night on the quay by the side of the Seine-Cartouche, when the captain made the last remark, blushingly protested against it, and pleaded his extreme youth as a reason why his comrades could never put entire trust in him. man," said the captain, "thy youth is in thy favour; thou wilt live only As soon, however, as they had broken all the locks and found the no- cunning, wert thou as old as Mathusalem thou couldst not be better prothe longer to lead thy troops to victory. As for strength, bravery, and thing which lay at the bottom of the chest, he shouted with such a loud vided than thou art now at eighteen." What was the reply of Mons. voice, “Here, ‘Thomas,' 'John,' 'Officer,' keep the gate, fire at the ras- Cartouche ?-he answered not by words, but by actions-drawing his knife cals," that they incontinently taking fright, skipped nimbly out of the win-from his girdle, he instantly dug it into the captain's left side as near his

The bridegroom slept in the next room, but however tenderly Cartouche and his workmen handled their tools, from fear of disturbing his slumbers, their benevolent design was disappointed, for awaken him they did; and gently slipping out of bed he came to a place where he had a complete view of all that was going on. He did not cry out or frighten himself sillily, but on the contrary, contented himself with watching the countenances of the robbers, so that he might recognize them on another occasion, and though an avaricious man, did not feel the slightest anxiety about his money-chest, for the fact is he had removed the cash and papers the day before.

dow, and left the house free.

'Psha,

heart as possible, and then seizing that imprudent commander, precipitated

506

him violently into the waters of the Seine, to keep company with the gudgeons and river-gods. When he returned to the band and recounted how the captain had basely attempted to assassinate him, and how he on the contrary, had by exertion of superior skill overcome the captain, not one of the society believed a word of his history, but they elected him captain

forthwith.

the Capital to arrange with her lawyers, and to settle her husband's will. The Count de Grinche (for so her fellow-passenger was called,) was quite as candid as the pretty widow had been, and stated that he was a captain in the Regiment of Nivernois, that he was going to Paris to buy a Colonelcy, which his relative, the Duke de Bouillon, the Prince de Montmorenci, the Commandeur de la Trémoille, with all their interest at court, could I think His Excellency Don Rafael Maroto, the pacificator of Spain, is not fail to procure for him. To be short, in the course of the four days' journey, the Count Louis Dominique de Grinche played his cards so weli, an amiable character, for whom history has not been written in vain. Being arrived at this exalted position there is no end of the feats which that the poor little widow half forgot her late husband, and her eyes glisCartouche performed, and his band reached to such a pitch of glory, thattened with tears as the Count kissed her hand at parting,—at parting he if there had been a hundred thousand, instead of a hundred of them, who hoped only for a few hours. knows but that a new and popular dynasty might next have been founded, and Louis Dominique Premier Empereur des Francais might have performed innumerable glorious actions, and fixed himself in the hearts of his people, just as other monarchs have done a hundred years after Car

Louche's death?

Day and night the insinuating Count followed her and when at the end of a fortnight he plunged, one morning in the midst of a tete-a-tete when they were alone, suddenly on his knees, and said "Leonora do you love me?" the poor thing heaved the gentlest, tenderest, sweetest sigh in the world, and sinking her blushing head on his shoulder, whispered, "O Dominique, jet aime! Ah," said she, "how noble it is of my Domi

The fact is, the old Baron's titles and estates had passed away to his nephews; his dowager was only left with 800,000 livers in Rentes sur l'Etat, a handsome sum, but nothing to compare to the rent-roll of Count Dominique, Count de la Grinche, Signeur de la Haute Pigre, Baron de la Bigorne-he had estates and wealth which might authorize him to aspire to the hand of a Duchess at least.

A story similar to the above, and equally moral, is that of Cartouche, who, in company with two other gentlemen, robbed the coche or packet-nique to take me with the little I have, and he so rich a nobleman!" boat from Melun, where they took a good quantity of booty, making the passengers lie down on the decks, and rifling them at leisure. "This money will be but very little among three," whispered Cartouche to his eighbour, as the three conquerors were making merry over their gains. 'If you were but to pull the trigger of your pistol in the neighbourhood cí your comrade's ear, perhaps it might go off, and then there would be cut two of us to share." Strangely enough, as Cartouche said, the pistol id go off, and number 3 perished; "give him another ball," said Cartouche; and another was fired into him. But no sooner had Cartouche's cmrade discharged both his pistols, than Cartouche himself, seized with a furious indignation, drew his knife-" Learn, monster!" cried he, "not to so greedy of gold; and perish the victim of thy disloyalty and avarice." So Cartouche slew the second robber, and there is no man in Europe who

can say that the latter did not merit well his punishment.

I could fill volumes and not mere sheets of paper, with tales of the triphs of Cartouche and his band; how he robbed the Countess of O, going to Dijon in her coach, and how the Countess fell in love with him, and was faithful to him ever after; how, when the Lieutenant of Police offered a reward of a hundred pistoles to any mar. who would bring Cartouche before him, a noble Marquis in a coach and six drove up to the Hotel of the Police, and the noble Marquis desiring to see Monsieur de la Reynie on matters of the highest moment, alone, the latter introduced him into his private cabinet: and how, when the Marquis drew from his pocket a ong, curiously shaped dagger, "Look at this, Monsieur de la Reynie," said he, "this dagger is poisoned !”

"Is it possible!" said M. de la Reynie.

"A wee prick of it would do for any man," said the Marquis. "You don't say so!" said M. de la Reynie.

"I do, though, and what is more," said the Marquis in a terrible voice, "if you do not instantly lay yourself flat on the ground, with your face towards it, and your hands crossed over your back, or if you make the slightest noise or cry, I will stick this poisoned dagger between your ribs, s sure as my name is CARTOUCHE !!

At the sound of this dreadful name, M. de la Reynie sunk incontinently down on his stomach, and submitted to be carefully gagged and corded, after which, Monsieur Cartouche laid his hands upon all the money which was left in the Lieutenant's cabinet. Alas and alas! many a stout bailiff, and many an honest fellow of a spy, went for that day without his pay and his victuals!

There is a story, that Cartouche once took the Diligence to Lille, and ound in it a certain Abbé Potter, who was full of indignation against this

monster of a Cartouche, and said that when he went back to Paris, which he proposed to do in about a fortnight, he should give the Lieutenant of Police some information which would infallibly lead to the scoundrel's captrre. But poor Potter was disappointed in his designs, for before he could fulfil them, he was made the victim of Cartouche's cruelty.

A letter came to the Lieutenant of Police to state that Cartouche had avelled to Lille in company with the Abbé de Potter of that town: that on the Reverend Gentleman's return towards Paris, Cartouche had waylaid im, murdered him, and taken his papers, and would come to Paris himself, bearing the name and clothes of the unfortunate Abbé, by the Lille coach on such a day. The Lille coach arrived, and was surrounded by Police agents; the monster Cartouche was there sure enough in the Abbe's guise, he was seized, bound, flung into prison, brought out to be examned, and on examination found to be no other than the Abbe Potter himself!—It is pleasant to read thus of the relaxations of great men, and find them condescending to joke like the meanest of us.

Another diligence-adventure is recounted of this famous Cartouche. It happened that he met in the coach a young and lovely lady, clad in widow's weeds, and bound to Paris, with a couple of servants. The poor thing was the widow of a rich old gentleman of Marseilles, and was going to

The unfortunate widow never for a moment suspected the cruel trick which was about to be played upon her, and at the request of her affianced husband, sold out her money and realized it in gold to be made over to him on the day when the contract was to be signed. The day arrived, and according to custom in France, the relations of both parties attended. The widow's relations, though respectable, were not of the first nobility, being chiefly persons of the finance and the robe: there was the President of the Court of Arras and his lady, a farmer General, a Judge of a court of Paris, and other such grave and respectable people. As for Monsieur le Comte de la Grinche, he was not bound for names, and having the whole peerage to choose from, brought a host of Montmorencis, Cregmis, de la Tours, and Guises at his back. His Homme d'Affaires brought his papers in a sack, and displayed the plans of his estates, and the titles of his glorious ancestry. The widow's lawyers had her money in sacks, and between the gold on the one side, and the parchments on the other, lay the contract which was to make the widow's 300,000 francs the property of the Count de la Grinche.

The Count de la Grinche was just about to sign, when the Marshal de Villars stepping up to him, said "Captain do you know who the President of the Court of Aix yonder is?-It's old Manasseh, the Jew of Brussels. I pawned a gold watch to him which I stole from Cadogan when I was with Malbrook's army in Flanders."

Here the Duc de la Roche Guyon came forward very much alarmed. "Run me through the body" said his Grace, "but the Controller-General's lady there, is no other than that old hag of a Margoton who keeps the”— here the Duc de la Roche Guyon's voice fell.

Cartouche smiled graciously, and walked up to the table; he took up one of the widow's 15,000 gold pieces-it was as pretty a bit of copper as you could wish to see. "My dear," said he politely, “there is some mistake here, and this business had better stop." "Count!" gasped the poor widow.

"Count be hanged," said he, "my name is CARTOUCHE."

TREASON.

We find in the Boston Courier of the 15th inst., a most extraordinary set of Resolutions adopted by a society composed of both sexes under the name of "The New England Non-Resistance Society." They hold that life is inviolable, that no human law can rightfully take or endanger it, and they threaten to withdraw their allegiance from all governments recognizing the life-taking principle. These Resolutions, and other similar ones, have been passed and signed by the Recording Secretary, who, wor derful to say,

is a lady.

It is rare under the dove-like pinions of our quiet republic to be re minded of Dr. Johnson's elaborate definition of Treason, "disloyalty, treachery, rebellion;" but, by the sword of Cataline, a storm of treased or something worse, is brewing in the Athens of New England that rot only threatens to annihilate our long-cherished and dearly-bought Insti tions, but unhesitatingly, undauntingly, sets the Law, Fanny Wright, and all constituted authorities at most unequivocal defiance. Lawyers with wigs full of learning, are shaking off the yoke of patriotic allegiance, throwing up their peace commissions as they would a foot-ball, and proedly declaring in the face and eyes of Puffendorf and Vattel, that all hman penal codes, as their existence and execution depend on the etaking power in the hand of man, &c., cannot innocently be sustained." Clergymen of the most quiet and "innocentest" lives have forgoten

their celestial calling, and are exhausting their wind-pipes in long blasts of "spiritual regeneration" as a substitute for the efficiency of the prompt arm of the Law, whilst those of the gentler sex, fearless as Diana, have stepped forth with unclouded faith into the path of insurrection, and registered with a Christian courage worthy of the frying Martyrs of old, their immaculate names on the parchment of open disloyalty.

A second Declaration of Independence, by Jove! Were we suddenly elevated to the chair of our Chief Magistrate, our first official act would be to test the sudden and unflinching fidelity of these Minerva-like rebels. Think thee, loyal reader, there would be no ringing of heart-strings, no contending struggles of human ambition, no wavering of faith, should we offer them those insignia of office and power which they now refuse and reject with such self-sacrificing spirit and holy aversion? For instance, allow me the honour, Mr. Amalgamation, of informing your Esq.-ship that you are appointed Chargé de Affaires to the Island of St. Domingo-that you, Parson Longface, are hereby deputed to repair to the brilliant court of St. Cloud to dance a gallopade with the immortal Rachel; and to you fair dames that love, for a moment cast aside your scientific tastes for ragouts and sweetmeats, for the daintier range of "independent thought," are permitted the free enjoyment of our purse-strings, and the choicest demonstrations of our gallantry, provided you return to your allegiance! How many minutes, by our veteran watch, would the gentle bravados tremble on the threshold of uncertainty? Perhaps five, no, we will give them ten mortal minutes to fall back into the good old Republican track.

But suppose we put the sincerity of the advocates of these new-fangled theories to the test of an argumentum ad crumonam. An adroit gentleman of the road deprives one of his purse. Shall he "pocket the loss," and quietly submit to similar wrongs and outrages until the "spiritual regeneration of the members of the community" be brought about by windy Preambles and Resolutions, a period, which, like the Greek Kalends, can never arrive? Or shall not the injured and oppressed seek for safety in that Law whose "seat is the bosom of God," and whose "voice is the harmony of the world."

THE SUGGESTIONS OF THE SEASON. "The aspect of Nature is devout. Like the figure of Jesus, she stands with bended head, and hands upon her breast."

folded

the baroness yield to the exigencies of her nature and of her position, and
seek that consolation with another which she could not find in him who
was her legal protector. She became an authoress in due time; and,
aware that prejudice might attach unpopularity to her writings if issued
under the auspices of her real name, she adopted that of "George Sand,"
and, as we before stated, experienced the most complete success ever at-
tained by any female in modern times.
Truly an exemplary personage!

A NEW HOME-WHO'LL FOLLOW, OR GLIMPSES OF WESTERN LIFE, by Mrs. Mary Clavers, an Actual Settler.—Published by C. S. Francis, 252 Broadway.

sex.

Such is the title of the most amusing and spirited work, descriptive of life in the West, that we have perused since we read Mr. Hoffman's Western Tour. It is confessedly after the manner of Miss Mitford's charming sketches of village life, and will be found quite equal to its finished prototype in the liveliness of its details, and in the truthfulness of its portraitures. The fair authoress, doubtless, has seen and heard most that she so quaintly describes, and enjoyed better opportunities to learn the more domestic manners of "border society" than is ever afforded the sterner She has made good use of her vantage-ground, and painted to the very life the every-day scenes and household habitudes of a people struggling with the inconveniences of a home in the wilderness, and adopting with cheerful alacrity the hardy manners and odd customs prevalent in the "settlements." The volume is spiced with many beautiful descriptions of natural scenery, and abounds in classic allusions and happy illustrations, supplied by a well-stored mind, and a most fertile and ready imagination. We had resolved to give the readers of the Corsair random specimens from these interesting and brilliant sketches, but on reflection we thought it would be more just to extract a single unbroken story as a sample of the style of the writer, than to mar the interest of the work by any piratical depredations on the main theme. This tale will be found in our columns to-day, and though beautiful, it is fair to say, the remaining portions of the work are yet more lively, spirited, and "graphic !"

HUNT'S MERCHANT'S MAGAZINE, for October, comes to us this month ladened with the productions of vigorous pens and experienced minds. The field of its usefulness is so broad, and addressing itself to the most active and enterprising class of citizens in our Republic, we are happy to see the contents of each number so admirably calculated to give instruction on the most important features of commerce, and on those laws and principles by which this mighty scheme is governed and regulated throughout the world. We learn that the success of this valuable Magazine is unprecedented, and though without a rival to stimulate exertion, it improves with "away every succeeding number.

How changed is the smile of "dear Mother Nature." Tears instead of dew are glittering upon the hectic cheek of her summer blossoms, and deadly night-winds, like the ague fit of declining age, shake the gorgeous tapestry of her crimson-crowned forests. Earnestly do we linger to catch the brilliant trill of the few remaining birds warbling in our ears their farewell cavatinas, already pluming their airy flight for a summer home " and afar." The zephyr has forsaken her haunts, and chilling storms from "Old Ocean fann'd," comes like the wail of a departed spirit, filling our souls with earth's melancholy, and leading us in pensive contemplation above the petty contortions and vexations of human life, to a suminer sanctuary of unfading bloom beyond the stars.

BEAUTIES OF STORY-Published by J. Burns, Boston, and for sale by Wiley and Putnam.

These are selections from the writings of Judge Story, making a miniature volume, neatly printed, and well bound. It will be an acceptable gift book among the friends and admirers of that distinguished Jurist.

THE LATEST WONDER IN THE ARTS.-The art of engraving oil paint

GEORGE SAND.-This is the nom de guerre, as many of our readers probably know, of Madame Dudevant, as well known to be in her life a de-ings, invented six months ago by one of our young painters, Mr. Jacques mirep as in her writings to be one of the most brilliant, powerful, and profligate novelist of the age.

Our correspondent in Paris, it will be recollected, recently dissected one of her impious novels, and showed up its corrupting tendency. We find this authoress spoken of in a late work entitled Reynold's Modern Literature of France, and the relations corroborate the opinions of our sensible correspondent.

Mr. Reynolds's account of this celebrated lady is curiously Frenchified. First as to the lady herself

Liepmann, and which looked like a dream, has now become a reality This young artist, although deprived of money and health, has succeeded in solving one of the most difficult problems. The celebrated portrait of of Rembrandt, one of the principal ornaments of the Louvre, and which was so difficult to imitate with the brush, has by means of the impression been correctly copied by Leipmann, who already possesses one hundred and ten copies that can scarcely be distinguished from the original He has made use of a machine of his own invention, the construction of which is still a secret. It must be remarked that being obliged to work at the Madame Dudevant is a lady under thirty years of age, beautiful in per- Musée he had not the picture at his disposition as it would have been at son as she is elegant in mind, and calculated as much to grace a gilded his own house; notwithstanding which, and the copies not being yet as salon as to shine in a conversazione among a number of eminent literati. She is witty and spirituelle as well as philosophic and profound, and as perfect as they infallibly will become, each one represents a most excelcapable of exciting peals of laughter as of drawing the tear of tender sym-lent picture in oil, and it is impossible to discover any mechanical work. pathy from the eyes. Her style of conversation is not vested with the What is admirable, is the fidelity with which the slightest shades of coloursame boldness and fearlessness which characterize her writings; her ideas are invariably expressed with a reserve and modesty which cannot be traceding are reproduced.—Translated from " Cabinet de Lecture."

in her volume.

After a great deal more to the same purpose, we have the following edifying sketch of her history

This woman of a million passions, when she first entered upon the marriage state with the nobleman whose name she bears, found that the endearments of her domestic circle were few; and hers was a disposition which, feeling a perpetual want of something to love and cherish with a pure and unvarying affection, was easily led astray so soon as those ties of attachment were as it is reported, but how truly we know not-wantonly broken by him who ought to have been proud of the woman whose incipient genius he could not but have perceived. Hence-in an age and a city of pleasure and temptation-exposed to all those dangers which are

Nix's MATE. This is a new historical romance by the author of Athenia of Damascus. The scene lies principally in Boston and its vicinity, during the revolution in Massachusetts, 1688-9. In connexion with the historical part, a romantic legend is intrcd iced, narrating the fate of Nix's Mate, a pirate, from whom the well-known spot in Boston harbour derives its name. The materials are certainly good, and we look forward with pleasure to the perusal of the volumes, which will be published next week by S. COLMAN, 8 Astor House.

A Calais paper says that 20 chests of gold, containing three millions

ever to be encountered by beauty and talent-and gifted with a soul as full sterling, have lately passed, coming from England, and addressed to M. of poesy and love as her imagination was of richness and originality-did || Rothschild.