Her brother Charaxus, a " young man of spirit,"
(Which generally means a young man of no merit,)
Resolved to see life, had been some years abroad,
And no one exactly knew which was his road.
He went the grand tour of the isles, I suppose;
Though what that was then, I'm sure nobody knows.
I'm afraid he went on in a but-so-so way,
And was fond of the ladies the world calls gay.
In the course of his wanderings to Egypt he came,
And soon there his heart was fill'd full of love's flame;
For there lived the beauteous Rhodopis, and she
Looked slyly and leered on Charaxus, and he
Looked slyly and leered on Rhodopis, and so
His money was very soon fast on the go.

This Greek Mrs. Milwood soon got every stiver,
And he thought about drowning himself in the river;
And well, too, he might-for, besides his own cash,
He had spent every rap of his sister's, slap-dash.
He was forced to confess, so he wrote her a letter,
Then took to the sea line for worse or for better,
And with losses and griefs being fierce grown and irate,
In a very short time came out strong as a pirate.
And Sappho sat within her bower,

The night before the day,

When she was to the youth she loved
Her hand to give away.

"My little foot page! my little foot page!
Why dost thou look so pale?

But thou art young, and tender of age,

I fear thy strength doth fail."

"Oh, no! sweet dame, I'm still the same,

That ever I was of yore;

But a Syrian's hand, from Egypt's land,

This letter has brought ashore,

And I'm sure, from the drunken-like look of the fist,

That it comes from my lord, whom you so long have miss'd." "Oh! give it me here, and there's a sweet dear."

She cut the strings in haste,

Then fainted away, without stop or stay

'Twas a mercy she wasn't tight-laced; But Grecian ladies wore no stays,

I wish 'twas the same in the present days!

The page, as all gentle domestics should,

(Honest faith is but for the coarse and rude,)

Picked up the letter, and read it all through,

་

Then whistled, and mutter'd " My eye! here's a do !"
Then went into the house, and summon'd her maid,
And told her with sal volatile to aid

Her mistress, who lay very ill in the garden,

And also, that now she warn't worth one brass farden.
I gladly pass her misery by,

"I cannot whine, or pule, or cry,"

One thing remain'd to place her stay on,
And that was, "that dear Captain Phaon."

Captain Phaon sat at the mess that night,
In a synthesis new of spotless white,
Clasped with a fibula, made of red gold,
As costly a jewel as e'er was sold,

All got on tick on account of his marriage,
As well as a Bigae, and open carriage;

And his comrades look'd on with rage and spite,
And swallow'd their choler as well as they might.
They drank him once, and they drank him twice,

And they filled up their goblets, and drank to him thrice

"Here's to the girl with the largest of dowers,
And here's to 'handsome Phaon of ours !'"
And Phaon fill'd up, and drank full free,
Who so merry, so merry as he!

When the little foot page rushed into the room,
With a step full of haste, and a heart full of gloom,
"Hail! Captain Phaon! now give me five guineas,
And I'll tell you where all my mistress' tin is."
He got the five guineas, and told his tale-
Says Phaon," Oh! bring me cigars and strong ale!
Oh! I'm going to faint-yes! I am !—what a bore!"
I won't repeat one of the oaths he swore,

But he went far beyond those valiant commanders,
Who afterwards swore with the armies in Flanders ;
And then he got drunk from grief and sadness,
And his comrades did ditto from joy and gladness.
Next morning sweet Sappho was up betimes,
And she heard the sound of the soft silver chimes,
"Perish, base dross! away, away!

This is my own, my own wedding-day!"

But the little foot page brought in a note

"From Phaon! from Phaon! 'tis long since he wrote !"

She kiss'd it at least a hundred times

To the sound of the soft sweet silver chimes.

Says the page," Ma'am, mustn't I shut the windy?" "Be quiet!"-she read it-and fancy the shindy!!! "Dear Sappho,

"I sorrow, I sorrow to hear

Of your losses, my darling, my duck, and my dear;
Would that I had the money to make it all straight!
But then, dear, I haven't-how cruel our fate!
Of course, I won't ask you to wed, and eat air,
So I beg you'll return my love letters and hair;

Your hair, which you gave me in gold and carbuncles,
I'm sorry to say, is just now at my uncle's ;
I've sharpened my razor, and made up my mind.
(Don't take on too much, love, when you 're left behind,)
Oh! how heavy the woes, that have fallen this day on
The head of your wretched, affectionate,

"Phaon!"

The faithless man soon forgot his vows,
And that day three weeks took for his spouse
Polydora the widow, fat and wealthy,

But neither in mind nor in body healthy; i

And lampoons and squibs appear'd in the Times,

At least three hundred and sixty-five times.

There's an island called Leucas, ('tis now Santa Maura,), A long way from Lesbos, and over its shore a Rock beetles five hundred feet o'er the sea, Dismal, and dreadful, and frightful to see; Where the howling wind never ceases to rave, Or the deep sullen boom of the breaking wave. But magic its virtues, and wondrous its spell, To those who had loved, and loved too well; They had only to leap from the top of the rock, And if they 'scaped death on the spot from the shock, And recover'd from all their bruisings and breakings, They were sure to get right in a couple of shakings, Its virtues are gone now-that don't matter much, For Love is ne'er seen in the world now, as such; Folks only love money, and diamonds, and dowers, In fact, love exactly like "Phaon of ours."

But Sappho had loved, and loved too well, She had drunk in the sound of the crystal bell,*

* See Hoffinan's tale, "Der goldne Topf."

And the dark blue eyes they gleamed on her still
From the elder bush-poor fool! weep thy fill!

Thou hast lean'd on a reed, thou hast worshipp'd a cloud;
So haste, haste away, from the low base crowd,

And come to the King of the mighty sea,
He alone can give aidance to such as thee.
And Sappho stands on Leucate's brow,
Litle recks she of false Phaon now,

She took her harp, and a measure free

Struck on its chords, a Greek Gramachree;

And crown'd with flowers, with her wild bright eye,
She look'd on the waves rejoicingly.

And all the Leucatians stood below,
Deck'd in their best to see the show,

Old man, and youth, and maiden fair,

And children in arms, they all were there,
All with their eyes on the rock above,

To see the strange lady leap out of her love,

She leap'd, and fell in the ocean's rack,

But, like Schiller's diver, she never came back!

MORAL.

Oh! young ladies, beware! young ladies, beware
Of Hussars and Dragoons with light brown hair!
They 're all deceivers, proper and tall;

Handsome and elegant, wicked men all.

Don't sing the songs of that wicked Tom Moore,
Or you'll bitterly rue it some day, I'm sure.

As to writing yourselves, if a daughter of mine

Were ever to pen even one single line,

I'd get a certificate from Dr, Headlam,

And have the minx straightway confined in some Bedlam.
And, reverend signors, all look out,

And drive the dragoons to the right about;

And, if they will visit, why-(Julia, don't frown!)

As Alderman Cute says, "they must be put down."

C. H. L.

SKETCHES OF SPANISH WARFARE.

MALIBRAN, THE AIDE-DE-CAMP.

ON a bright spring morning of the year 1835, a detachment, consisting of some two hundred foot-soldiers, with three mounted officers at their head, was marching at a rapid pace along a narrow country lane in the neighbourhood of Hernani. The irregular uniform of these men-some of whom were clothed in loose grey coats, others in jackets of sheepskin, or of dark cloth or velveteen thickly studded with small metal buttons-and still more the flat scarlet cap which they all wore, indicated them to be of the corps of Chapelgorris, or Redcaps, a body of volunteers that had been raised early in the war to defend the cause of the Spanish Queen in the province of Guipuzcoa. Under cover of the night they had issued forth from their cantonments upon one of the skirmishing, foraging expeditions in which these irregular troops particularly delighted; and now that the sun had risen, they found themselves well advanced into the country occupied by the Car lists. To men less admirably adapted for guerilla warfare, their position would have been a dangerous one; but their extreme activity, and intimate acquaintance with that intricate and mountainous coun

try, enabled them to venture fearlessly and with little risk to some distance within the Carlist lines.

Emerging from the lane they had been following, the little band crossed a couple of fields, and gained the summit of a ridge of land, whence they looked down into a valley, broken by water-courses, and varied by apple orchards and clumps of forest-trees. The first glance from their elevated position warned them that they were in presence of an enemy. At the distance of about a mile, two or three companies of Carlists were under arms, and, on the first appearance of the Queen's troops, a cloud of skirmishers detached themselves, and advanced at a long swinging trot to meet them. The Chapelgorris were not slow to follow their example; and presently, from behind trees and bushes, puffs of white smoke might be seen rising, followed by the sharp report of the long muskets used in this Indian kind of warfare. Thorough guerillas in their way of fighting, neither party thought of advancing en masse, or charging with the bayonet; such a course would have been quite contrary to their habits, and would, moreover, have shortened too much the pleasure of the skirmish. To these hardy mountaineers, accustomed from childhood to the use of arms, a fight of this kind appeared in the light of a shooting-party, the excitement and amusement of which was heightened by the risk (not very great, by the way,) that attended it. Of the three horsemen who headed the Chapelgorris, one had remained with the main body, another accompanied the skirmishers, and the third, dismounting, and taking a musket from a soldier who attended him, had hastened forward to take his share in the fighting that was going on. The skirmish had lasted nearly half an hour, with trifling damage on either side, when four or five mounted men were observed to join the Carlists; and one of them, spurring into a gallop the powerful black horse which he rode, pushed forward between the lines of skirmishers, drew his sabre, and waved it over his head in sign of defiance. He was immediately made the target for a dozen bullets; but the manner in which he kept cantering up and down between the two parties, rendered him a difficult mark to hit, and he remained unhurt, flourishing his sword, and hurling imprecations and abuse at the Christinos. "Hijos de p-, cobardes!-dastards and poltroons that you are! Will none of you try a sabre-cut with Martin of Eybar?"

"Here is a chance for you, Malibran," said one of the Chapelgorri officers, riding up to his dismounted comrade, who was standing beside an old moss-grown tree, and loading his musket, yet smoking from its last discharge. "It is the famous Martin, who has just formed a partida for the service of the Pretender. Will you ride out and meet him? If not, I must, for the honour of the corps."

The person thus addressed was a young man of one or two and twenty, of slender figure, with a pale, expressive countenance and dark fiery eyes. He was a native of the island of Cuba, and nephew by marriage of the celebrated Madame Malibran Garcia. Finding himself in Spain when the civil war broke out, he was seized with a fit of military enthusiasm, and had joined the battalion of Chapelgorris as a volunteer, accompanying them in all their skirmishes and expeditions. He had, moreover, engaged, for the space of one year, to maintain a captain of the corps out of his own resources; thus, in a manner, buying the commission, which was promised to him at the end of his twelvemonth's military noviciate. Under these circum

stances, he, of course, lost no opportunity of distinguishing himself; and that which now offered was too tempting a one to be let slip. Hurrying to his horse, he sprang into the saddle, and galloped forward to meet the Carlist, amidst a cheer from the Chapelgorris, by whom his dashing courage caused him to be idolized. At the same moment, and as if by mutual consent, the fire of the skirmishers was suspended.

There was a striking contrast between the two champions who now approached each other. Malibran was slight, active, and supple, without much appearance of strength, and mounted on an Andalusian horse, whose fine legs, high crest, and exquisitely formed head, bore witness to the excellence of his breed. The Carlist, on the contrary, full six feet high, square-built, and broad-shouldered, his stronglymarked features rendered the more martial and imposing by a thick, black moustache, bestrode a horse more remarkable for bone than blood, and apparently fully up to the weight of his ponderous cavalier. From his saddle was hung a trabujo, or short blunderbus, capable of carrying a dozen or fifteen postas, as the small bullets, or rather slugs, with which that description of gun is loaded, are called. He showed no disposition, however, to make use of this formidable weapon; but, with a fierce shout and a scornful laugh, charged down upon Malibran as though he anticipated an easy bargain of an antagonist so inferior to himself in weight and strength. If such were his idea, it was a most erroneous one. Malibran was an excellent swordsman; and that quality, added to his agility, his presence of mind, and the good training of his horse, made him fully a match for his confident adversary. Evading the first shock, he began to wheel and turn about the Carlist with a rapidity that utterly confused the latter, whose comparatively clumsy steed was unable to follow the quick movements and changes of position of Malibran's charger. The combat was of short duration. Profiting by a moment when a fiercely dealt but ineffective blow had thrown the Carlist slightly off his balance, Malibran, by a vigorous thrust, passed his keen sabre nearly through the body of his foe, who, with a deep groan, fell heavily to the ground. There was a shout of triumph from the Christinos-an answering one of fury from the Carlists, who let fly a hasty but harmless volley at the conqueror. Malibran caught the now riderless horse of his opponent by the bridle, and, setting spurs to his own, galloped back to his friends The skirmish recommenced with greater fury than before; but the Carlists received reinforcements, and the Chapelgorris were compelled to retreat, fighting as they went. Without any material loss they regained their own lines.

Several weeks had elapsed since this incident; and Malibran, now a commissioned officer, had been appointed to the staff of General Cordova, then commanding in chief in the north of Spain. The division was on its march to Vittoria, and the young aide-de-camp was indulg ing in certain pleasing speculations as to the manner in which he was likely to be received in that city by a person in whom he felt a strong interest. On a previous occasion, when quartered there, he had made the acquaintance of an exceedingly beautiful girl, who was residing with the family in whose house he had been billeted. His stay had been but short, but yet long enough for him to fall violently in love with this young lady, who, on her part, by no means discouraged his attentions. The disturbed state of the country rendering communi