and she had more than once cursorily inspected the contents: she knew he was not only not in want of money, but moreover a prodigiously rich person, as notes to the amount of several hundred pounds were folded together in it—a fact which she very laudably propagated to all the tradespeople with whom she was in the habit of dealing; for knowing that he had so much money in his possession, she had not yet been guilty of asking him for any, and, strange to say, he had not offered to discharge even one of his bills. Had Mrs. Mapletoft suspected him of poverty, she would probably not have been so patient; but he was a most liberal personage, and as she was chief of the purveying department, the account became "large by degrees, and beautifully longer," and was sufficient to enable her to call in those worthy auxiliaries John Doe and Richard Roe at any moment if he should be inclined to dispute any of the numerous items which were entered in the pages of her day-book. It was indeed a comfort, as she remarked to one of her gossips, as she was taking her accustomed Sunday evening's ramble on the parade, that such gentlemen did come to Brighton, for they lived well and paid well, and her lodger was not one of those meanspirited people who would split a farthing, and knew the price of every article which they ordered to be provided for them. There were many who envied Mrs. Mapletoft the prize she had so fortunately obtained, and whenever the old gentleman showed himself in the town, it was pleasing to see the high respect with which he was treated. Even the topping tradesmen made him particularly low obeisances, and if he entered a divan for a cigar or a fresh supply of Princes Mixture, the order was not only immediately executed, but it was also as immediately sent off to Mrs. Mapletoft's, and the amount duly entered in the ledger of the vender. Still there was a mystery about the old gentleman: he was only known as Mrs. Mapletoft's lodger," and it seemed questionable if he had a right to any name at all, for not even an initial letter was studded on his portmanteau : who, or what he was, or from whence he came, no one knew-but that he was very rich indeed no one doubted, for Mrs. Mirabel was not a person likely to be deceived on that point; so they were content to take him on his own terms, and if he were the old gentleman, his wealth would be of no disadvantage to Brighton. As the season came on for the opening of the communication between Brighton and Dieppe, the old gentleman frequently wandered on the heights above the Chain-pier to witness the embarkation of the emigrating parties, or the debarkation of those who were returning to merry England; and Mrs. Mapletoft was also generally to be seen at the same time just without the gate where the wary janitor keeps guard to prevent the intrusion of those who are not disposed to pay for promenading on the sea, pursuing her usual avocation of looking out for waifs and strays to tenant her unoccupied apartments. On these occasions he sometimes gallantly escorted her home, and her little eyes twinkled with delight as she passed by the domiciles of her neighbours, and thought of the envy such a circumstance would create. Be | sides, she was half inclined to indulge a hope that she was not altogether unpleasing to him: he certainly was not a proud man, nor like some of those persons she had known, who might deem it necessary to pay attentions to a female friend, or perhaps flirt with a countess, when she was in sight, and if he would once give her an opportunity of saying yes, she was determined not to let it pass by without profiting by it. Once or twice she fancied he had pressed her hand somewhat tenderly, and latterly he had always desired her to cater for him exactly as she pleased, and what was most likely to tempt her own appetite. These were signs and tokens which she thought could not well be misunderstood, and she was determined to avail herself of the first favourable opportunity of bringing him to a formal declaration. Hopes, those marsh-lights of the bewildered imagination, now beamed brightly over the horizon of her mind, and conjugal felicity filled up the back ground of the ideal picture, and finished the perspective quite to the satisfaction of Mirabel. By slow degrees she led him on to pay her those little delicate attentions which she conceived to be the avant couriers of a declaration, and was supremely happy in fostering the pleasing idea of being enabled, with the aid of his wealth, to vie with her richer, and outshine her humbler neighbours. Mrs. Mapletoft now felt more desirous than ever to show him, without appearing to be desirous of so doing, that she also had a little store of wealth, and left her purse carelessly displayed in places where her lodger might have an opportunity of following her example of examining its contents. Some days passed by without this ruse having any apparent effect upon the old gentleman; but one evening, as they were sitting cosily before the fire, and, as his hearing was much quickened, enjoying a desultory conversation, he remonstrated with her very gravely on the impropriety of leaving gold upon the table, adding to his arguments, that in his opinion it was sinful thus to tempt the honesty of the servant, who might be induced to purloin a portion of that bane and blessing of civilized society, to procure such articles of female attire as she could not otherwise afford to purchase. Mirabel allowed she was wrong in so doing, but she carefully avoided informing him that her handmaiden was privy to the act and deed for which he had gratuitously read her a long moral lecture, though, at the same time, she congratulated herself on the success of her scheme. Nor was she less de lighted when, after a momentary pause, he said, still holding the well-filled purse of Mirabel in his own possession, “I think I ought to add my mite to this golden treasure, so, my dear Mrs. Mapletoft, if you please you shall tell me the amount of my debt to you." Mrs. Mapletoft remonstrated against such a proceeding: she was indeed not in want of money -some other time she would look over the account and make it out correctly, for at present it was but roughly calculated in her day-book, and there might be mistakes, which he could look over and correct at some other moment-any time when he had leisure. The old gentleman however was positive, and took shame to himself that he had so long neglected to perform such an imperative duty, and actually averred that he should consider himself guilty of an act of dishonesty if he did not discharge his debt to her before he pressed the pillow that night. After such an explicit declaration the scruples of Mrs. Mirabel were silenced, the account was produced, and not an objection was raised to a single item, though the amount was somewhat more than many reasonable persons would have been satisfied with. But now another difficulty arose. On the production of his pocketbook-the very one which had previously undergone the strict scrutiny of Mrs. Mapletoft, no small notes were to be found, and many expressions of regret escaped the lips of the lodger that he should have been so thoughtless as not to have had those of a large amount cashed at the bank. It seemed almost impossible to get over this difficulty, till on a sudden he recollected that probably the purse belonging to Mrs. Mapletoft, which still was in his hand, might furnish the means of reconciling him with his conscience, and enable him to satisfy her demand upon him even to the uttermost farthing. His anticipations proved to be correct; a note for a large amount was soon enshrined within the purse of Mrs. Mapletoft, and the gold was transferred to the pocket of the conscientious old gentleman, who remarked that his slumbers would now be calm as those of an infant, since he was convinced of having performed an act of justice and duty. After such a moral exordium what doubt as to the value and virtue of her lodger could remain with Mrs. Mapletoft? Happy woman that she was in possessing such an inmate, her only cause of regret was that she had been so moderate in her charges, for if circumstances should not turn out exactly in the way she wished, a little more of his money would enable her to make certain comfortable additions to her very limited income. toft, though the latter was moving in an humbler sphere. There is a time for all things, and Mirabel's period of joy was vanishing like a dream. She had forwarded the "flimsy" to a stock-broker in London, for investment in the Three per Cents, and instead of receiving a bank security for the cash thus remitted, the appalling intelligence that the note was a forged one was communicated by letter to Mrs Mapletoft, with a request that ste would state from whom she had received it to the officers, who were then on their way to Brighton, to make enquiries into the affair. In the excess of her agitation she hastened to the old gentleman, whose sympathy rendered him nearly as agitated as herself, but who nevertheless advised her to collect her faculties that she might be able to shew the fellows, if they dared make their appearance at her door, that she was not to be frightened or hoaxed out of so large a sum of money. He promised not to desert her, and instead of going out to take his accustomed ramble, he would only saunter away the morning in the garden that he might be within call whenever his presence and protection might be requisite. "Kind-hearted creature!" exclaimed Mrs. Ma. pletoft, as she quitted him to pursue her domestic occupations, "what can a lone woman do with out a man?" This was a very natural question, but in some instances men are very troublesome animals, as were those visitors whose arrival she now expected. hour had scarcely elapsed from the time of the deHer informant was correct, for a quarter of an livery of the letter, before a police messenger and his assistant descended the area steps, and forthwith, without waiting to be announced, one of them stood in the parlour of Mrs. Mapletoft, while the other remained in the passage keeping a strict eye to the two outlets which terminated the narrow line, and reserving the staircase as a position for attack or retreat. The next day she was doubly diligent in her efforts to render the dear man's home every thing Mrs. Mapletoft had indeed collected all her he could wish, and took occasion on her way to faculties, as her good inmate had advised her, and the market, a daily avocation of her's, whether she talked loudly and largely of persecution and prowanted to purchase or not, to display to her gos-secution, in as lofty a tone as a demagogue, and sips the good-looking piece of paper, purporting to be a "flimsy" of the Bank of England, with the magical words, One Hundred Pounds legibly engraved in the left hand corner. She was congratulated and envied to her heart's content on her exceeding good fortune, and some of those goodnatured friends, to whom Sheridan applied a condemnatory epithet, were busily employed in propagating reports by no means likely to elevate the moral character and conduct of Mirabel in the opinion of the world. Happily for the peace of that lady they were only whispered to the dear friends of the original propagators, but they gathered strength in their progress, and Mrs. Mapletoft became, unconsciously to herself, a very important personage in the little coteries, of the lodging-letting sisterhood. To be talked of is the delight of some persons, and the pretty woman who sent her lap-dog's visiting ticket in proper form to all the four-footed favourites in the circle of her friends, though more eccentric, was not more desirous of notoriety than was Mrs. Maple concluded by desiring the Dab to desire the old gentleman to come in and set the fellows right. Who has not heard of the two cats, who were mortal enemies, being confined in one room without the possibllity of escaping or avoiding each other's society; and who impelled by their mutual animosity became worse than cannibals, and catabalized upon each other in so voracious a manner that the two tails only were left to tell of the existence of this twain of the feline race-the other portion of the animals having been eaten and digested? Mrs. Mapletoft's lodger appeared to have made a still more singular exit-to have eaten and digested himself-for when the Dab, escorted by the gallantry of the police, went to summon him to the parlour, a portion of his outer habiliments were only to be found. Like the serpent, he had cast his skin, and had found some secure retreat from the enmity of the human race, who are not apt to be very lenient to those who rob them of their purse. A scene of confusion now ensued, which a painter only could depict. Mrs, Mapletoft was convinced that she had been duped and deceived by her very respectable lodger, and doomed not only to lose all the money she had drawn forth from her own pocket in hard cash, but also to remain minus of that gold she had hoarded up with so much care -the profits of the whole byegone season. She was like a novice waiting for one of the confined cells of Bedlam, and in the paroxysm of her fury added to her past losses by the present damage she did to the temporalities around her she had totally forgotten the precept that had been enjoined her, and had it not been that her neighbour, Mr. Maclaurin, curious to learn the cause of the confusion, had intruded himself into the privacy of her retirement, there is no foretelling what the consequences might have been. By the voluntary contributions of all the parties, Mr. Maclaurin was soon in possession of the particulars of the affair, and was also enabled to throw a light upon the subject which the sagacity of the police had not anticipated, namely, that the identical personage who had borrowed, (Mr. Maclaurin was too well bred to use a harsher term) the money of Mrs. Mapletoft in exchange for the note, was at the present moment on his way to Dieppe, for Mr. Maclaurin had positively seen him go on board the packet at the very moment it was departing from the chain pier, and had wondered to see him look so young, and able to move so quickly. " I said to myself," continued Mr. Maclaurin, Mrs. Mapletoft has made quite a young man of you, old boy, and being in love does good to elderly persons like us, for you know, Ma'am, you and I are no chickens." If there was an offence not to be forgiven by Mrs. Mapletoft, it was being reminded that the bloom of her youth was past, and fortunately this brought her to reason much quicker than any arguments which could have been used. She started up from the chair in which she had been indulging in a lady-like fit of hysterics, and without waiting to attire herself in shawl and bonnet, followed the police to the beach. The steamer was still in sight, but the sea was rough, and broke rudely in large foam-covered waves at her feet: a storm was evidently near, for the dark clouds seemed now almost to be touched by the agitated wave. No boatman would venture to follow the packet, as their fragile skiffs would not be likely to weather so severe a storm as that which now threatened to break over them, and which in truth had even now began to spend its first fury on the troubled world of waters that trembling shook beneath the angry frown of the sky. She saw the outline of the vessel grow❘ fainter and fainter till distance concealed it entirely from her view, and with it she took her last leave of her lodger and her money, and he of Brighton and danger. Mrs. Mapletoft still resides at Brighton, and as her spirits have recovered the shock which reduced her to almost a female living skeleton, those whose curiosity may be excited by the perusal of this tale may obtain more minute particulars from herself, by waiting upon her at her own residence, and taking her apartments, if they should not have an objection to be known as Mrs. Mapletoft's Lodger. STANZAS. BY MRS. CORNWELL-BARON WILSON. Where is that oblivious spring, And the healing draught I'll drain; For my aching heart is torn, By the cares that rend it here; And my furrow'd cheek is worn, By the trace of many a tear! Is it in the madd'ning crowd, Where the ruby wine-cup glows, While the laugh of mirth rings loud, The Lethean current flows? Bring the draught that can supply (Heed not whence its waters rise), A spell to banish memory, A charm to lull the bosom's sighs! ANSWER. There is one oblivious spring, By the mourner ever found; One healing for affliction's sting, That the sense of woe has drown'd. 'Tis the dusky stream of TIME, Bringing balm for ev'ry care; Flowing in each place and clime, For the lip of pale despair! TIME's the true Lethean draught, The only nectar of the bowl, When the Suff'rer's lip hath quaff'd, That lulls the anguish of the soul: Blest is he, who earthly wise, Learns with patience to endure, As the gliding current flies, And softens what it cannot cure! the human character. As regards personal appearance, we do not hesitate to say, that they are more solicitous than the weaker part of the rational certify, to say nothing of other artists who study the best modes of adorning and improving the human form and face. Yet this care of the outward man may be tolerated in the young; better be a dandy than a sloven; the one may improve into something better, the other, probably, degenerate into something worse. Our opinion of the love of dress in men has lately altered somewhat in its favour, since we have met with more than one young gentleman whose conversation and manner were superior to our expectation, from the evident care bestowed on their personal appearance; and we have been informed too that one of the brightest ornaments to the literature of the age is a most elaborate dresser. This has in a measure reconciled us to a little foppery, for if the genius of such a being be allowed to bear this disguise, who shall presume to judge of a man by his exterior, or condemn a small share of vanity in less gifted individuals? ISABEL. STANZAS TO ******. Now the stream of youth is chill'd, and the plains it water'd wither'd; APOLOGY FOR VANITY. Every body has, or supposes themselves to have some point of personal or mental advantage, if not of perfection. It would be difficult to find a per-creation; as tailors and bootmakers no doubt could son entirely free from vanity, and however people may disclaim such a feeling they will be found, if narrowly observed, to possess it in some degree, though perhaps very trifling, and only with regard to one particular quality of mind or person. I am doubtful whether this ought to be wholly condemned. Perhaps we should find a person totally without this weakness of human nature to be abandoned to errors of much greater magnitude, and we may pardon a pretty woman for being a little vain, if she be not proud and haughty with it, or a man of talent, if his self-satisfaction does not lead him to assume, and treat less gifted individuals with contempt. Who can be very angry with sweet tempered Clara, when she takes off her glove in company to adjust some stray hair on her forehead, that she may display a beautifully formed hand, white as fresh cream, yet with enough of Aurora on its internal edges to show that its whiteness is not the effect of disease. Gentle Harriet bestows her glances right and left because her Egyptian eyes are most effective from an oblique direction of their rays; while her sister prefers to address her opposite with some animating question, her bright orbs looking still more brilliant when their expression is thrown forward. We see smiles continually which arise without being called forth, except by a desire to display fine teeth, or to dis cover pretty dimples; while the lady who cannot boast of these charms, opens her mouth carefully and studies a becoming gravity of countenance, which accords best with the Siddonian contour of her features. Fine hair: What torture does it not undergo to show its beauty to advantage; this by the way is a mistake, for the less pains bestowed on this natural ornament (except in the way of cleanliness) the better it looks. See that young woman; there has been a heavy and unexpected shower, yet she steps quickly over the dirt nothing discomforted, glad of an excuse to raise, a little, her habiliments that she may have an opportunity of exhibiting a well turned ancle, yet this young woman may be modest, and though she objects not to show where her vanity lies, she might not care that any passer by should tell her they observed it. And young ladies, though they endeavour to draw attention to one peculiar charm, are generally content with tacit admiration; one possibly may be allowed to speak on the subject, but for the many-we do not consider young ladies very amiable who are pleased with the expressed admiration of a dozen or more. Talent, like beauty, is a thing whereof to be in some measure vain. Indeed a person highly endowed must feel elevated above some of their fellows; but this feeling should not induce a supercilious bearing towards others. Gratitude to the bestower of the gift should mingle with the consciousness of superiority, and prevent the pride of intellect from destroying the charity of the heart. We shall not close this little apology for vanity without declaring our opinion, that men are more vain than our own sex. We do not choose to give them credit for all the most estimable qualities of You ask me for a flower or two, like those which once I gather'd; Then sprung they forth abundantly, but when I seek them now, I find not, love, a single one which may adorn thy brow. I will retrace my pilgrimage unto the land of youth, But, yet, I will a chaplet weave, like that which then And The For, though so perishing and frail, yet I will hope for thee, softened bloom their leaves display, may ever fadeless be; love, if beauteous innocence may woe's exemp tion claim, 'Tis a boon which thou may'st ask, a boon which thou shalt gain. THE COTTAGE. The home she leaves behind. And painful pleasure claim, The cadence of her name. K. W. M. She breathes in some far Southern spot, For me the playful smile nor gleams, But though amongst the glittering throng, THE BELL.-1690. (Translated from the French of P. L. Jacob, expressly for this Work.) "Je voudrais me venger, fût ce mème des dieux!" Crébillon Tragédie. to those who rang it; and these did not return his dislike without interest. It was the two Correctors or brother-floggers, of the college who were deemed worthy of this executive employment, by a neverfailing zeal in the service of the congregation, which applied corporal punishment in aid of instruction. Father Griffon and Father Frémion had, in addition to this never-ceasing and laborious duty, the office of ringers, which they exercised by turns, both of them gave proof of their punctual attention to their duty. They did not hesitate for a moment in inflicting the punishment which the principal decreed; and the rod, in their equitable hands, was neither an instrument of injustice or one of vengeance, except when Crébillon was delivered over to them; it was then that their particular resentment against him converted their duty into a pleasure, and their strokes fell faster and heavier, without, however, making their victim deign to complain. They regularly summoned the colle Prosper Jolyot de Crébillon, the son of the chief registrar of the cour des comptes of Dijon, was born in 1674, in that city. At an early age he was sent to Paris to prosecute those studies necessary for preparing him to enter the legal profession, in which his family had distinguished themselves for several generations. From the age of ten years, he gave promise of those great qualities of mind and genius which gained him the esteem and admiration of his age, both as a man and a writer; but his imagination was not yet imbued with that sombre cast of ideas that afterwards induced him to imitate the Greek drama in his trage-gians to the dormitory, to the refectory, to the dies of Abrée et Thyeste, of Idomenie, of Electre. and of Rhadamiste et Zenobie. He already loved the marvellous; tales and original adventures; amusing himself in inventing a number of comic tricks, ingenious intrigues, and witty farces, for the pastime of his comrades of the college of Louis Le Grand. When quite young he gave himself up to those idle habits, which he afterwards never corrected; it was a dreaming poetic reverie, captivating him at the moment of inspiration, revealing in perspective, the capricious course of his genius; nothing could subdue this fantastic humour, which was frequently at open war against the rules of the college and the authority of the masters. These habits of slothful effeminacy were particularly noticeable in the dormitory, where Crébillon was always the first in bed, and the last out of it; when a humour for sleep or thought enchained him to his pillow of a morning, the peal of Notre Dame, would not have sounded loud enough to arouse him, nay, he would not have hurried himself had the house been on fire; the punishments of fasting, the rod, and the dungeon, failed to conquer his invincible obstinacy, and the bell which was rung for the scholars to get up before daylight, had not a more implacable enemy than Crébillon, who, however, always pretended not to hear it. This wilfulness which is productive of such serious consequences in the life of man, is generally unbearable in children; it encourages effrontery and pride. Nevertheless, Crébillon did not incur the ill-will of the Jesuits; those instructors had the ability to foresee and appreciate the future fame of their pupils, and spared no pains to enrol the most distinguished of them in their society, which was based on the talents of its members. Crébillon had then attracted the attention of those learned professors, by the quickness of his progress, the riches of his memory, and the resources of his mind; he was, almost without knowing it, the first scholar in his class, and his success, which was solid as well as brilliant, cast an indulgent shadow over his careless and turbulent conduct, his ceaseless prating, his malicious pranks, and his inflexible obstinacy. Besides the bell, Crébillon had a great aversion church, and to class, but they mutually assisted each other every morning to torment Crébillon in his bed, at the time of rising, although the latter did not care for their brutal treatment; whether they lugged his ears, or gave him a hearty thwack with their rods, or pulled him by the hair, he never cried from pain, although he sometimes did from vexation. This hatred, so cordially shared between them, had existed for several years. Crébillon on arriving at the college, after having spent his infancy happily and unrestrained in the bosom of his family, found a great difficulty in submitting to the corrections in use amongst the Jesuits, and the first time that Father Griffon, who was deaf, was desired to give him some striking proofs of his state of subjection, he, in the first place defended himself with useless eloquence, and then finished by resisting the just power of authority, and not without effect; for the visage of the man of the rod retained its scars longer than the breech of the little rebel. Father Frémion who was dumb, was yet worse treated, in the next instance, and left the half of his nose between the teeth of his adversary, who could not restrain his indignation on finding that his tormentor did not even deign an answer to his attempted justification. Since this double altercation, which had been the commencement of their quarrels, Crébillon had never ceased by every means that malice could suggest, to feed that deep and ardent hatred which excited him to commit every practical kind of mischief to annoy them. Sometimes he would throw a stolen ball, an apple, or an inkstand at them; sometimes he sowed seeds of mischief between them, which speedily developed themselves in consequence of their mutual infirmities; the dumb man could not make his deaf companion understand him. It was Crébillon who stole the wine given out for their meals; it was he who led them into error as to the hours of business, by putting the clock wrong; in short he had no pity for those two harmless beings, and who were respectable also as well from their age as from profession; one day he shut the dumb man into the Bell turret, when no one below noticed the signs he made for his deliverance, while in the meantime his colleague |