Queechy and the Wide Wide World; and there are a host of nameless novelties of our own country, all worthy commendation in their way, whom Maga, did she give all her space for the purpose, could scarcely enclose--so great a crowd are they-in her Temple of Fame. There are many who, deserting the dangerous paths of terror and mystery, are content to paint in good Dutch colors the quiet life and quiet homes which they see every day. There are not a few photograph ists who put down everything, attractive and repulsive alike, with a minute fidelity which is remarkable; and there is a very good flying squadron of merely pleasant story-tellers, who do us service unobtrusively, without a great deal of either thanks or reward. Of the Dutch painting we have many considerable professors. In a book lately published, Matthew Paxton, we find a very curious daguer reotype of a peculiar phase of manners; and there is excellent story-telling in Major Hamley's Lady Lee, with its three capital heroines; but this has graced the columns of Maga too recently to gain longer comment at our hands; for when could our modesty pause if we dwelt upon the novelists of Maga? One would suppose that the mass of novelreaders must have greatly increased in these days; but no novel exercises such a universal fascination as fell to the lot of those wonderful books which came to the eager public out of a mysterious cloud, when the author of Waverley was the Great Unknown. And to think of little imposing Miss Burney, and Burke sitting up all night with Evelina! Those were the days! Who would not have been the happy instrument of cheating Edmund Burke out of a night's rest? From Chambers' Journal. THE COSSACK PRINCE AND THE PARISIAN LADY. THE present war, unhappily, has made us | all but too familiar with the aspect of the Cossack in the field and in the foray; but, happily, to most of us he is yet unknown in his social intercourse with the civilized world of Western Europe; so we are about to introduce to our readers the celebrated Platoff, hetman of the Cossacks, as he has been portrayed to us by the lively pen of a French lady, who became acquainted with him and his family during the occupation of Paris by the Allied Powers in 1814. The younger Platoff had been quartered in this lady's hotel, which was one of the most elegant and sumptuous mansions in Paris. To this arrangement she of course made no objection, and wisely resolved to bestow upon her unwelcome guest the hospitality befitting his rank and position. Madame d'Abrantes, accordingly, charged her domestics to behave with all due respect to the princely intruder, and placed her confidential valet de chambre in close attendance upon him. The domestics were, however, but little disposed to yield their services to a Russian. Day after day, complaints were made to his courtly hostess of the barbarous customs of her guest. The femme de charge came to tell her, that with such an inmate she could no longer manage the household, for that she could not stand by and see things wantonly destroyed as they were by these Russian savages. On inquiring from the faithful Blanche the cause of her discomposure, Madame d'Abrantes learned that the primitive young hetman was in the habit of going to bed in his boots, and with his spurs on into the bargain; so that each morning found the fine bed-linen of the duchess not only dusty and blackened, but also torn in shreds by these equestrian appendages. The Duchess d'Abrantes smiled at the indignation of her femme de charge, and advised her to have patience with the ungainly habits of her guest. It seemed to her as though the exhortation had been effectual, for several days passed on without any new complaint being uttered by the thrifty Blanche. At last, she inquired whether their pensionnaire had become more civilized. "No, indeed, madame," replied Blanche; "but I do not fret myself so much about it now, for I have given him the sheets which are intended for the stable-servants. They are only too good for a savage like him!" added she in a contemptuous tone. The valet de chambre who was placed in attendance on Platoff, marked his dislike to the Cossack in a still more original manner, and one that might have been less innocuous in its results. Young Platoff had a voracious appetite, and was very gluttonous in his tastes. His French attendants were resolved to try and cure him of his gourmandise. For this purpose, the maître d'hôtel purchased a strong emetic, and mixed some grains of it in each dish which was prepared for his table. On the morning fixed upon for this experiment, ten or twelve dishes were served up at his breakfast-the ragouts, the sweetmeats, even the wine and brandy, were strongly dosed by his relentless foes. The Cossack ate voraciously of all. As one dish after another disappeared before him, the valet looked on with inward glee. "Well," thought he, "the brute will be properly punished!" At last, breakfast was despatched; and after swallowing a large cup of café à la crême, and finishing his bottle of brandy, the hetman yawned, stretched himself two or three times, and threw himself upon his bed, from whence his sonorous snores were soon heard to echo through the adjoining apartments. Joseph listened with surprise. He expected quite a different result from the huge dose which had been administered. At last, he grew alarmed at the prolonged and heavy slumber of the Cossack. It occurred to him that he might, unawares, have poisoned the stranger, and he felt not a little troubled at the thought. To his relief, however, as evening approached, Platoff suddenly started up, and inquired of the valet what o'clock it was. Joseph replied it was past five, and expressed a polite hope that the hetman was not indisposed. "By no means," replied he; and then swearing out one of his accustomed oaths, declared that he was dying of hunger, and commanded that his dinner should be got ready as quickly as possible. Joseph gazed at him with a stupified air of disappointment and surprise. "Go at once," resumed the hetman," and desire the cook to hasten dinner as much as possible. I have not felt so hungry since the day I arrived in Paris." 66 66 can Joseph went down into the kitchen, looking so bewildered and crest-fallen that the maître d'hôtel and the cook both cried out at once: "Good heavens, he is not dead!" Dead, indeed!" rejoined Joseph; such fellows ever die, I wonder? No, no; he is crying out for his dinner as if he had not tasted a morsel for the last four-andtwenty hours!" "His dinner!” repeated the maître d'hôtel incredulously-"his dinner, after the dose we have given him. Surely that is not possible." "It is not only possible, but certain; and he will be in a fury if it is not served directly." 66 Well, we must only give him another and a stronger dose." "No, no," replied Joseph, whose conscience misgave him for the part he had acted. "We have done wrong already in playing this trick on the Cossack without madame's knowledge; and now I will go and tell her all about it." Madame d'Abrantes could scarcely refrain from smiling as her valet retailed to her this extraordinary experiment; but, assuming an air of gravity, she expressed her disapproval of such conduct towards a stranger dwelling beneath her roof, and desired her servants, under pain of her heavy displeasure, not to play any more tricks of the sort with Platoff. She was by no means sorry, however, when a few days later her uncouth guest took his departure, and was replaced by a far more polished personage, Monsieur Volhinski, gentleman of the bed-chamber to the Emperor Alexander. It seemed to her now as if she had done with the Platoffs; but one day when M. Volhinski was paying his devoirs to his fair hostess, he informed her that the famous Platoff, and his daughter Madame Grécoff-father and sister to the ogre from whom she had so recently been delivered-were very desirous to become acquainted with the widow of Napoleon's first aide-de-camp, the intrepid Junot; and at the same time he requested permission to present them to her. Madame d'Abrantes of course gave a gracious assent to the proposal; and a few days later, M. Volhinski was announced in company with his Cossack friends. The attention of Madame d'Abrantes, as might be expected from a true Parisienne, was at once attracted to the extraordinary costume of her female visitor. Madame Grécoff was young, and had a pleasant physiognomy, without, however, possessing any pretensions to beauty. She was of small stature, of dark complexion, and bedaubed with red and white paint. In her dress, she betrayed that half-barbaric taste which delights in showy finery as well as in a profusion of ornaments, placed without skill or order about her person. She wore a dress of rich yellow silk, which suited but ill with the colour of her eyes. It was very badly made, forming a sort of domino or robe de chambre, with short sleeves, which were the more unsuitable for a morning-dress, as the weather was cold and changeable. arms were covered with long white gloves, Her over which were placed very handsome and expensive bracelets; and on each of her fingers was a ring. Even her thumb was adorned in like manner. The effect of this profusion of trinkets over a pair of gloves may be more easily conceived than described. And her head-dress-it was of such an outlandish form that the Parisian élégante could not define to herself whether it was a cap or a bonnet; she only knew it was twice too large for the little head on which it was placed, and that in the attempt to fix it firmly there, it had been sadly mutilated and spoiled. As for her chaussure-she wore a pair of coarse silk or filoselle stockings, dyed almost blue; and large leather shoes, which showed themselves but too evidently from beneath her fine yellow dress, which was as much too short in front as it was too long behind. This barbarous chaussure seemed almost a social crime to her courtly hostess, who dwells less complacently upon the remembrance of Madame Grécoff than upon that of her father, the famous Platoff, who, despite his uncivilized deportment, contrived to win the good graces of Madame d'Abrantes. This remarkable man was at that time between fifty and sixty years of age. He was tall, and of commanding aspect; had a finely formed head; and his physiognomy was devoid of that savage expression common to so many of his tribe. He wore a long robe of blue cloth, reaching nearly to his feet, and plaited closely round his waist, like a lady's dress. Around his neck was suspended a very conspicuous order, set in diamonds, which the Empress Catherine had had made expressly for himself. At his side hung a Turkish sabre, given him by Potemkin, and said to be of immense value. Neither Platoff nor his daughter could speak a word of French. They could both of them talk a little German and English; but as Madame d'Abrantes was not ac [Dec., quainted with either of these languages, the conversation was carried on through M. Volhinski, who acted as interpreter to both parties. The hetman said many flattering things of Junot, which were very acceptable what he thought of Madame d'Abrantes, to his widow. M. Volhinski inquiring of him Platoff bent one knee before her, as if to ask pardon for what he was about to do, and, taking her by the hand, led her to a window. There he examined her countenance so attentively for some minutes, that she could usual procedure. At length, with a low bow, scarcely preserve her gravity at such an unhe conducted her back to her seat, and said some words in Russian to Volhinski and his daughter. The smile with which they heard him, indicated that his observations were laudatory; so the duchess naturally desired to know their purport. surely must have the mind and the soul of a "He says," replied Volhinski, "that you courageous, and have great firmness of chaman; and that he is convinced you are very racter." sack as the greatest compliment he could This, doubtless, was regarded by the Cospay to a woman. clude his visit, Madame d'Abrantes's children As he was about to conentered the apartment. One of them, an infant boy in his nurse's arms, on seeing set the hetman in his outlandish robe and cap, up a loud cry, and turned his face away to the boy, spoke to him with his eyes rather in childish terror. Platoff went over gently than his lips, and quickly won his good to take him in his arms, and during a quargraces; so that the little fellow allowed him ter of an hour played with his brilliant decorations, and laughed with delight at the magnificent baubles. On returning the infant to his nurse, Platoff began to laugh, and spoke a few sentences in Russian to Volhinski. "Do you know what he says?" inquired he. "No." town of Champagne, the name of which he clasping her hands in an agony of tears, "Which was the savage then-this woman or me?" inquired Platoff laughing. The famous old hetman, however fierce and relentless he might be in the battle-field, had undoubtedly much of that kindliness of look and manner which, during the more peaceful hours of life, wins the good graces of both women and children. His visit left a very favourable impression on Madame d'Abrantes, who, despite the voracious habits of the younger Platoff, no longer thought with horror and disgust of the redoubtable hetman of the Cossack tribes. HORACE WALPOLE. WITH AN ENGRAVING. press, where he published first the two sub OUR portrait gallery is enriched with a fine engraving, of HORACE WALPOLE, the cele-lime odes of his friend Gray, and afterwards brated wit, court-gossip, and litterateur. He was the youngest son of Sir Robert Walpole, was born 1717. In 1734 he went to King's college, Cambridge, and there distinguished himself by his elegant verses in honor of Henry VI., the founder of Eton school. Under the patronage of his father, he obtained, in 1738, the office of inspector of exports and imports, which he afterwards exchanged for that of usher to the exchequer, with which he held the place of comptroller of the pipe, and of clerk of the escheats in the exchequer for life, appointments of the annual value of nearly £5,000. In 1739, he was permitted by his father to travel on the continent, and accompanied by Gray he made the tour of France and Italy; but a dispute at Reggio unfortunately separated the two friends, whose intimacy was again renewed in 1744, to the honor of both. On his return to England in 1741, he was elected into Parliament; but though he sat in the house for above twenty-five years, he never distinguished himself as a speaker, except on one occasion, in defence of his father, in 1741. On giving up his seat in Parliament, he retired to his favorite house at Strawberry Hill, near Twickenham, which he had purchased in 1747, and tastefully adorned with all the striking features of Gothic times. In this charming spot the literary hermit established, in 1757, a printing edited other works in an elegant and highly finished style. On the death of his nephew in 1791, he succeeded to the title of Earl of Orford, but elevation of rank had no charms for him. He never took his seat in the House of Lords, and with reluctance submitted to the respect or adulation of his friends in assuming an empty title, which he contemptuously called a new name for a superannuated old man of seventy-four. Respectable as a man of letters, Lord Orford was distinguished for his extensive information; he was polite in his manners, facetious in his conversation, and in his sentiments, lively, intelligent, and acute. If avarice and vanity were, according to one of his biographers, his leading foibles, affability and a companionable temper were his most distinguishing virtues. He was of a benignant and charitable disposition; but it must be confessed, that no man ever existed who had less the character of a liberal patron. He died 2nd March, 1797, aged 80. The best known of his works are, a Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors, republished with great additions by Th. Park, in 5 vols. 8vo. 1806-Historic Doubts concerning Richard II.-Anecdotes of Painting, enlarged from Vertue-the Castle of Otranto, an interesting romance in the marvellous style, written in eight days-Essay on Modern Gardening and the Mysterious Mother, a tragedy. SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. [Dec., SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. ABOUT three miles north of Yarmouth, in Norfolk, is a small village called Caistor. It is situated near the sea, and contains a few houses and a great deal of sand. There are a few trees near it; and those few seem sickly, as if their growth were stunted by the keen winds which sweep along the coast. The only object which attracts attention is a lofty tower, surmounted by a slender flagpole, which points towards the sky. On nearer inspection, it is found to be only a ruin. The winding stairs which once led to the summit of the tower have been removed, and in places the wall has crumbled away, leaving apertures through which the winds moan mournfully. Four walls enclose a large space of ground, but everything is decayed and in ruins, though enough is left to give the spectator an idea of its former grandeur. Here is what was a moat, but now a dry ditch, choked up with mud and weeds; and there is a massive gate and the remains of a drawbridge. Part of a chapel is visible, where, in times past, priests with rich vestments sung the solemn mass, and instructed the devout Christians who were assembled in the way to everlasting life. But priests and auditors, nay, the chapel itself, are gone, and nought remains but the crumbling stones, which mutely tell their tale. The castle was built by no less a personage than Sir John Falstaff-honest Jack Falstaff! Yet the brave knight bore a character far different from that portrayed by the immortal dramatist. Sir John was no bully, no boaster. no ignorant boor. England is indebted to him for counsel and assistance in times of danger, and ought not entirely to forget the exploits of so brave and loyal subject. Old Fuller tells us that Shakspeare at first introduced Sir John Oldcastle upon the stage; but that being resented on account of the high religious character of the knight, he gave his ideal creation a new name, being that of another personage of the period, whose real character was scarcely less differ ent. John Falstaff, or, more correctly, Fastolfe, was the son of John Fastolfe, a mariner, and came into the world about 1379. He was soon the custom of the feudal times, was placed left fatherless, and, according to under the guardianship of John Duke of Bedford, the regent of France. afterwards accompanied to Ireland Thomas Duke of Clarence, on his appointment to the He governorship of that country. Whilst there, ary's day, 1409, he married Millicent, daughwe presume, he fell in love; for on St. Hilter of Sir Robert Tiptoft, and widow of Sir Stephen Scrope, whom, on his wedding-day, he contracted to allow £100 per annum for pin-money; this sum was regularly paid until her death, which took place during her husband's lifetime. suited the taste of Falstaff, who was more The vice-regent's court seems not to have addicted to fighting than lounging about in idleness. another character, and, having buckled on He soon, therefore, assumed his armor, proceeded to France, where abundance of glory was to be obtained. There his bravery soon made him known. In the accounts of most of the engagements of that period, Falstaff's name occurs in the list of combatants. In Normandy, Gascony, Guienne, Anjou, and Maine, his arm helped to sustain the British power. When Harfleur was taken in 1415, he was made lieutenant the honor of knighthood. At Agincourt, he of the place, and shortly afterwards received took a noble prisoner-no less a person than the Duke of Alençon. He was in the midst of the strife at the taking of Rouen, Caen, Falaise, and Seez, and stormed numbers of strong fortresses and castles; amongst others, the castle of Sillé le Guillaume, for the capture of which he was rewarded by the title of baron in France. At he was elected a Knight of the Garter. Among other honours poured upon him, his election, there were an equal number of votes for our knight and Sir John Radcliffe ; whereupon the Duke of Bedford gave the casting vote in favor of Falstaff, and sent him a letter abounding with expressions of praise. Now, Monstrelet, in his Chronicle, states that count of his dastardly conduct at the battle Falstaff was degraded from the order on acof Patay, where he and his followers, being struck with terror at the appearance of the |