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how little did he suppose, that at the very time he was straining every nerve to reach his house to place her there in a few days, weeks, nay months, would elapse before they should meet again; but such is the uncertainty of human events-when we think we are most sure of any thing, perhaps we are at that time farther from it than ever; a presage of misfortune is a common exclamation, elation of mind is probably one of the most certain.

When Angelica awoke on the morning Auguste left, she was surprised by an unusual bustle in their palazzo, and a kind of suppressed grief was evident in the countenance of each domestic; low wailing was heard in the apartment of her father, and before the dreadful tidings could be broken to her, she rushed thither, what a sight was there for his fond child! The Comte Villadomonti lay on the couch, whither he had retired the previous night; his table was covered with planetary revolutions, for he was one who secretly studied the heavenly bodies, and pretended thence to divine the secrets of futurity; his window, whence he was wont to look forth on the expansive waters, and the conclave radiant with constellations, was open; he had been pursuing his favourite study that night, as was evident from a scroll bearing characters faintly traced being found in his hand; the import of these seemed to interest Angelica very much, for by attending to the lessons of her sire, she too was able to read what we will translate, for the reader's benefit. The first hieroglyphic denoted, a bright prospect o'ershadowed by sudden clouds; a strange country, and dwelling with strangers, was the second; while the bright star of the first was again in the ascendant; what the sudden change of her residence would be, she was not long left to conjecture, for hardly was the mortal remains of her parent cold in the grave, than the senate took on themselves the management of her property, and appointed her a guardian, with whom she was to reside, as was the custom.

Through a country embowered with vineyards, and redolent with the perfume of orange groves, on his way to his château, did the young marquis spur his wearied steed, in the hope of reaching it ere the night closed in.

At length the roaring of the sea, as the waves with a hoarse murmur broke upon the shore, gave him the first intimation of his proximity to his wishedfor journey's end, and a few more strides

of his courser presented to his view the tall donjon, or main keep of the castle : he pulled up his steed to take a full survey of its venerable structure, and bring to his remembrance the outline he had seen in the days of his childhood, when accompanied by those who were lost to him in this world for ever. (Concluded at page 13.)

THE SPEAKER CALLED UPON FOR A SONG.

THE following curious circumstance once actually happened in the House of Commons. Any person who is at all conversant with the proceedings of that body, is aware that a long pause sometimes occurs between the conclusion of private, and the commencement of public business. On one of these occasions, when a heavy debate was expected, and the house was crowded, during a dead silence, when every body was expecting to hear the name of Mr. Pitt issue from the mouth of the speaker, a shrill voice was heard from the back rows of the gallery, calling on Mr. Speaker for a song. Excessive was the consternation and laughter of the house. The speaker called, but in vain, for order, and it was not till some minutes had elapsed, that directions could be given to the serjeantat-arms to take the offender into custody: as the serjeant entered the gallery, to hunt him out, a reporter tapped a grave, demure, quaker-like stock-broker, who was sitting before him on the shoulder, and said to him half whispering, half aloud, "A pretty scrape you are in, sir; but you would not be advised, and you must now get out of it as you best can." The serjeant drank in the sounds with greedy ears-pounced upon the unlucky stock-broker, thus clearly denounced to him-and, in spite of his affirmations of innocence, dragged him, mighty loth, to the bar. The Charles Wynn of that day, immediately began to put the inquisitorial power of the house into operation against him; but a few questions soon convinced him that the party seized was "more sinned against than sinning." The house saw the folly of prosecuting its inquiries farther, and dismissed the frightened stock-broker with a sort of apology for the needless trouble which it had occasioned him. "With wings as swift as meditation, or the thoughts of love," he swept back to the gallery, to wreak his vengeance on the waggish reporter, who had pointed him out to the executive

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In the year 1808, Napoleon was one day conversing with this celebrated tragedian at the Tuileries, while several royal personages were waiting for their turns to speak with the Emperor. Talma, observing this, wished to withdraw; but Napoleon detained him, saying, "no, no, let them wait.”

During this conversation, the Emperor recommended him, above all things, to let his acting be as simple as possible.* "You see in this palace," said he, "kings who have come to solicit the restoration of their states; great captains who have come to ask me for crowns. Ambition, and other violent passions agitate all around me. Here I behold men offering to serve those whom they hate; young princesses intreating me to restore them to the lovers from whom

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I have separated them. Are not these tragic characters? And I am, perhaps, the most tragic of all. Yet you do not find that we continually strain our voices, and make violent gestures; we calm, except at those times when agitated by passion, and those moments are always of short duration. A man's natural strength would not enable him to continue in such a state of excitation for two hours in succession: and, besides, when a man is under the influence of violent passion, he has less strength than usual."

Talma used to relate his conversations with Napoleon in a style of simplicity, which rendered it impossible to suspect him of misrepresentation. He had no more than that degree of pretension, without which no man can nowa-days succeed in Paris. He was the last of the great men formed by the revolution. With what astonishing ra

*The judicious advice of Napoleon may be said to have materially assisted Talma in attaining the eminence he latterly enjoyed.

pidity they have vanished from the scene of life. Napoleon, Massena, Murat, Davoust, David, Regnault, and Talma, are all numbered with the dead, and some of them have sunk into a premature grave.

Talma had a beautiful country residence at Brunoy, near Paris, where he expended enormous sums of money, and yet he has left 10,000l. to his two sons. He was very charitable to the poor; and what is rather remarkable, he gave a great deal to the Catholic priests, who were continually applying to him for money for church repairs, and other purposes of a similar kind. Talma spoke English very well, and he frequently read Shakspeare in the original. Before he performed in Ducis's imitation of Hamlet, he read the original Play, and he often remarked, "This Shakspeare electrifies me." Nature had endowed Talma with a handsome countenance, and a finely proportioned figure. When he performed the part of Orestes, in Clytemnestra, before his death, nobody would have supposed him to have been more than five and twenty. He never approached so near to perfection as in 1821, when he performed Sylla. In this character he presented a striking resemblance to Napoleon.

Talma had no idea of his approaching dissolution. During his long illness, the only circumstance which rendered him uneasy, was that his extreme thinness would disable him from personating certain youthful characters, in which he was obliged to have his neck uncovered. Talma's forte was the delineation of terror, for he was but an indifferent representative of love. And yet that passion influenced his whole life. He was beloved by some of the most distinguished women of his time; and, even at the period of his death, he is said to have been in love with and jealous of his last wife.

G. M. J.

ANECDOTE OF NORTHCOTE THE ARTIST.

DISTINGUISHED as an artist and as an amiable but eccentric man, Northcote was one of whom this country may justly boast. The following ancedote is selected from the "Library of the Fine Arts," and is honourable to his memory.

"Some years since a certain royal duke was at the head of those who chaperoned Master Betty, the Infant Roscius, at the period when the furor of fashionable folly made all the beau

monde consider it an enviable honour to be admitted within throne distance of the baby actor.

"Amongst others who obtained the privilege of making a portrait of this chosen minion of fortune, was Mr. Northcote; and we remember what crowds were wont to await his coming, around his painter's street-door, in Argyle Place, to see him alight from the royal carriage.

"There were usually three or four other persons, ladies and gentlemen of rank, who either accompanied his Royal Highness thither, or who met him at the studio of the painter. Northcote, nothing awed by the splendid coteries that assembled there, maintained his opinion on all subjects that were discussed; and it seems that his independence obtained for him the respect of all, though one pronounced him a cynic, another an eccentric, some a humourist, others a free-thinker, and the prince, with manly taste, in the nautical phrase, dubbed him a d—d honest, independent, little old fellow.

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"One day, however, the royal duke, being left only with Lady young Roscius, and the painter, and perhaps worn a little out of patience with the tedium of an unusually long sitting, thought to beguile an idle minute by quizzing the personal appearance of the royal academician. It is well known that Northcote, at no period of life, was either a buck, a blood, a fop, or a maccaroni. He soon dispatched the business of the toilette when a young man, and as he advanced to a later period, he certainly could not be dubbed a dandy. The loose gown in which he painted, was principally composed of shreds and patches, and might, perchance, be half a century old; his white hair was sparingly bestowed on each side, and his cranium was entirely bald. Thus loosely attired, the royal visitor, standing behind whilst he painted, gently lifted or rather twitched the collar of the gown, which Mr. Northcote resented by suddenly turning and expressing his displeasure by a frown. Nothing daunted, His Royal Highness presently, with his finger, touched the professor's grey locks, observing, You do not devote much time to the toilette, I perceive-pray how long do you?'

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in my own house. He then resumed his painting.

"The prince, whatever he thought or felt, kept it to himself; and remaining silent for some minutes, Mr. Northcote addressed his conversation to the lady, when the royal duke, gently opening the door of the studio, shut it after him and walked away.

Northcote did not quit his post, but proceeded with his painting. It happened that the royal carriage was not ordered until five o'clock. It was now four ; presently the royal duke returned, re-opened the door and said, ' Mr. Northcote, it rains, pray lend me an umbrella.' Northcote, without emotion, rang the bell, the servant attended, and he desired her to bring her mistresses umbrella, that being the best in the house and sufficiently handsome. The royal duke patiently waited for it in the back draw. ing room, the studio door still open; when having received it, he again walked down stairs, attended by the female servant, who on opening the street-door His Royal Highness thanked her, and, spreading the umbrella, departed.

"Surely His Royal Highness is not gone? I wish you would allow me to ask," said Lady

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angry with myself, and hope you will forgive me, and think no more of it."

"And what did you say?" inquired the first friend to whom he related the circumstance.

"Say! gude G-d! what would 'e have had me say? why nothing. I only bowed, and he might see what I felt. I could at the instant have sacrificed my life for him; such a prince is worthy to be a king!" The venerable painter had the gratification to live to see him a king, and such a king as is alone worthy of such subjects.

PETER THE GREAT.

THIS great monarch, in order to promote literature in his empire, ordered a number of foreign works to be translated into Russian. Among the many important works selected for this purpose, Puffendorf's Introduction to his History of the European States, was one: the translating of which Peter confided to a learned monk. The task being finished, the monk presented the manuscript to the Tzar, who, in his presence, began to turn over the leaves, reading a few passages to himself. Having stopped at a chapter towards the end of the book, the attending officers observed that his face changed colour, and exhibited strong marks of displeasure. "Fool," said the Tzar, turning to the monk, "what did I bid you to do with the book ?"

"To translate it, sire."

"Is this then a translation ?" replied the sovereign, pointing at the same time to a paragraph in the original, where the author had spoken harshly of Russia and of the character of the inhabitants, but which the good monk had in part omitted, and in part softened down in the most flattering manner to the nation.

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on the alert, and, as one means of safety, they scattered hen-coops and spars on, the waves, until the ship could be brought round or hove to. As this operation required some little time, the unfortunate man got to windward, and at last, by great exertion got hold of the rudder, and in this way kept his head above water. His messmates in the meantime were busy searching for him, on the side of the vessel from which he fell; no one thought of looking to windward, and, as it was impossible to hear his cries amidst the roar of the waters and the whistling of the breeze, they gave him up for lost. The half-exhausted tar then managed to clamber up the rudder, and creeping in by a port-hole, to ensconce himself in the gun-room; but his cries of distress were not heard, as the gun-room is below water. He, however, found plenty of grog and biscuit, and with this remained very quiet for a day and a half. A calm then ensued, and the poor fellow crept cautiously out of his prison-house, descended the rudder, entered the water, and went swimming alongside, puffing and blowing, and exclaiming, as well as his affected breathlessness would permit :

"Ship a-hoy! ship a-hoy!"

The seamen could hardly credit their senses. "Mercy on us," they exclaimed, "that's Jack Thomson himself!"

"Ay, to be sure," replied he, "and a pretty set of lubbers you are, to leave a poor fellow in the lurch; I'm three parts murdered already, starving of hunger, and tired to death; and had it not been for this calm, I should never have come up with you."

When Jack was pulled on board, various questions were put to him; but he humoured the joke and kept his secret to himself. The captain of the vessel, soon after his arrival at Madras, dined with some friends, one of whom boasted greatly of the powers of a negro swimmer. Captain Sinclair, recollecting the story of Thomson having lived a day and a half in water, backed his seaman against the man of colour. The day of trial came, and with it a great crowd. Both parties having stripped, Thomson fastened a bag round his shoulders, which, as every one remarked, was filled with something. Blackie looked queer, and immediately inquired:

"What you do wid dat ?"

"Do with it," replied he, "you know we are bound on a long cruise, and although I can swim, I cannot starve for a whole week, and must therefore carry

provisions with me; since for the sake of being light, I have rather pinched myself, and cannot, therefore, promise you a single biscuit."

"Swim a week," said blackie, "and mess in de wave! den me nod swim wid you-you be devil, nod man-you sink me;" and in short remained so deaf to entreaty, and withal, appeared so frightened, that Captain Sinclair gained his wager.

THE SORROWS OF WERTER.

Ir is a singular fact, that the celebrated Goethe, the author of this popular novel, was also himself the hero. From an entertaining work published in 1822, by Major James Bell, under the title of "Letters from Wetzlar," we obtain some curious information respecting the different characters mentioned in the novel, and the scenery of the spot where the events took place.

The imperial city of Wetzlar is sit uated near the conflux of the rivers Lhan and Dill, a few miles from the direct road between Frankfort and Hesse-Cassel. It was once the seat of the Imperial Chamber, which was dissolved in 1806, but which had been the means of bringing together the principal characters delineated by the novelist. Albert, whose real name was John Christian Kästner, officiated as secretary to the duchy of Bremen; he was afterwards the husband of Charlotte, the second daughter of Mr. Buff, an agent of the Teutonic Order of military knights, who resided in the town, and not a short distance from it, as represented in Werter's sixth letter.

Charlotte and Albert were enjoying the near prospect of connubial felicity, when Goethe, a youth of great promise, arrived in Wetzlar to finish his studies in the higher branches of jurisprudence. The acquaintance which he soon formed with Kästner or Albert, and his betrothed wife, soon ripened into intimacy. He became a daily visitor, and often, in the absence of Kästner, he was the companion of the lady in her walks and little parties of pleasure. Whether love produced these unceasing attentions, or whether this frequent intercourse produced love, cannot now be decided; but at all events, Göethe became, from the confidential friend, the passionate admirer. For months he wholly abandoned himself to the sentiment, till urged by a friend, who saw that he was indulging a hopeless passion, and prompted still more by the approaching nuptials of

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The scene of this parting was the garden then belonging to Count Spauer, supreme judge of the Imperial Chamber. It is situated above the river Lahn, close to one of the gates of the town. The fountain mentioned in the 3rd and 5th letters, is situated at the side of a brook, in a valley at a little distance from the Wildbach gate. On the opposite side is an extensive orchard which was occupied by Charlotte's father. Hither Charlotte frequently resorted, and Goethe had a favourite seat beneath the beautiful limetree which overshadows the fountain.

Another favourite retreat of Goethe's was the village of Garbenheim, called in the novel, Walheim, about a mile and a half from Wetzlar. The path leading thither, along the edge of a high cliff which overlooks the Lahn, is one of the most beautiful walks in the neighbourhood. The schoolmaster's daughter, whose children are spoken of in letters eight and nine, was living at Garbenheim in 1822, and not a little proud of being, as she called herself, "the woman in the book." Goethe possessed, in a high degree, the faculty of fixing the attention of children, by little stories which he invented extemporaneously for their amusement. An allusion is made to this talent in letter 30.

Mr. Kästner had been dead some years, but Charlotte was living at Hanover, at the time of Major Bell's visit in 1816 or 1817, the mother of eight sons and two daughters. The "little fair girl" mentioned in letter ten, is now living at Weimar, where Göthe procured a situation for her lover, and thus enabled him to marry her. Two or three years ago, Charlotte paid a visit to this sister at Weimar, and then she again met Goethe for the first time since their parting at Wetzlar.

Such is the story, as far as the real characters were concerned; its tragical conclusion is taken from the fate of a person who had little connexion with Charlotte, and whose intercourse with Kästner was nothing more than what naturally sprang from their holding similar employments in contiguous states, he being secretary, to the ambassador from the court of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel. This person was the only son of the protestant abbot Jerusalem. In stature he was tall and well formed, with dark hair

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