BONAPARTE AND CHARLES FOX.

One day when Bonaparte, in one of his frequent fits of ill-humour, was expressing his contempt of the whole human race, I observed to him, that if the gew-gaws of state excited the admiration of the vulgar, there were some men who were above being dazzled by them; and mentioned, as an example, the celebrated Charles Fox, who, anticipating the conclusion of the peace of Amiens, had come to Paris, where he was remarkable for his extreme simplicity of manners and appearance. "You are right," said the First Consul, "Fox is a truly great

man."

Bonaparte was always delighted to see Fox; and whenever he had an interview with him, he never failed to tell me of the pleasure he enjoyed in conversing with the great English statesman, who, he said, was truly worthy of his high celebrity. He regarded him as a man of the very highest order, and ardently wished to treat with him in his subsequent relations with England. It may be presumed that Mr. Fox, on his part, did not forget the friendly relations he had maintained with the First Consul. Indeed, on several occasions, even in time of war, he warned Napoleon of the plots that were formed against his life. Nothing less could be expected from his noble and generous character.

even to the shedding of tears, only raise, as before, the cigar to the end of the

nose.

For an interrogation, it is only necessary to open the lips and draw the cigar round the corner of the mouth.

Taking the cigar from the mouth, and shaking the ashes from the end, is the conclusion of a paragraph.

And throwing it in the fire is a final and stylish pause.

Never begin a story with a halfsmoked cigar; for to light another while conversing, is not only a breach of politeness, but interferes with the above system of punctuation, and destroys all harmony of expression.

I'll from the wild incessant din
(For the Portfolio.)

Of busy man retire,
To where the aereal songsters' trill
Far dearer thoughts inspire.

There will I seek some cooling shade

Amid the verdant grove,

Where undisturb'd my soul may breathe A pray'r for her I love.

And when the streamlet's low-breathed sounds

Fall trembling on my ear,
I'll dream they are the sounds of one
I tenderly revere..

And as the kindly-fanning breeze
Floats by in am'rous glee,
Its wings I'll swell with gentle sighs,
And waft them, love, to thee!

So shall the moon's first liquid beam,
Remind me that the hour is come,
As it gilds the darken'd green,
To leave the sylvan scene.
Waterloo Terrace.

IMPROMPTU.

W. N.

On seeing a Country Youth walk through a heap of mud whilst looking above, and on hearing his droll remark, upon discovering the result of his carelessness.

A country wight, with trousers light,
When gazing up aloft,

Through a heap of mud did heedless scud,
Then cried Eh! it is soft!

W. N.

6.6

"Oh, be easy, now, Jimmy," said another: sure he's a gentleman, any how, for don't you see he keeps his fool?"

Ay, and has given him a pair of pattent boots," said the shoeblack; "but he's not long in town, for they don't take de pollish, doe dey are a shining pair."

"Yes, yes, Murtha," replied the butcher's boy, "dere are more dimonst on his shins dan on the lady lieutenant's neck, any how."

"Och, be de powers," rejoined the shoeblack, "you may say dat; and warm work he had of it, getting 'em on."

"Sassanachs!" cried the gomulagh, as I led him away, "had I one o' ye in the moor, I'd make you cry wild Irish, ye spalpeens" and he flourished his stick in defi

ance.

This poor creature was one of those who have just brains enough to qualify them for carrying messages, Sil always went bareheaded and barefooted, and was one of the most expert pedestrians in Munster. On the present occasion he had travelled twenty-four hours, without stopping, and was inquiring for the Coombe, when the blackguards of Patrick-street market collected about him. His joy, on seeing me so unexpectedly, was unbounded: and, when we reached my uncle's, it was some time before his satisfaction would permit him to eat any thing. The letter he brought me was from my mother, informing me that Cousins had returned to Dublin, and that my father was dangerously ill. She solicited my speedy return, and I lost no time in complying with her wishes.

In half an hour after the receipt of her letter I was on my way home, and left the gomulagh to follow me.

*Bare legs are called patent boots. The speckles on the legs, caused by sitting too near the fire, are called diamonds. A half-silly fellow.

A little beyond Maryborough I met my foster-brother. From him I inquired if there was any news.

"Musha, no," replied Owen; "you had it all to yourself in Dublin, for we've been as dull as small beer since you left us, till ere.last-night." "What happened then ?"

"The deuce a much; only the boys made young Molony, who has taken up his father's trade, take a little exercise upon your newlyinvented saddle."

"Good God!" said I, "it cannot be possible."

"Faith, it's true enough," returned Owen; "and richly he desarv'd it, or the divil a cottoner in Cork,' Musha, didn't he, himself, go to widow M'Cann's, and drive away her muil cow, though she hadn't another beast in the world that could give the children milk for the preaties; and all for a bit of tithe, that she would pay, if left alone to herself? But by the ghor we put a stop to his gallop. We met him as he was goen to the pound with the poor creature, and just axed him wouldn't he be easy.

No, nor the divil a bit,' says he, Then you must,' says we; But I mustn't,' says he; and so one word borrowed another, until Paddy Purcell, of the boughereen, cot him, and whipped off his coat; another, his waistcoat; and another, his breeches; and so prepared him to mount. He fought like a lion; but all wouldn't do. We ketched limping Brien's colt; and, having fixed a soft saddle made of a scough, we made him mount, and away he went, for all the world like a shiderrow on a windy day. Ha! ha! ha! how the people of Ballyragget did laugh, sure enough, to see him like a ghost flying through the town! Here," he continued, pulling out a piece of paper, "is a picture of it, which Tim Houlaughan the painter drew; and it's mortual like, every body says."

"Well," I asked, "what become of Molony ?"

66 Oh, musha, God knows," he replied. "He wasn't hurt, any how; for he's gone to get warrants for us all; but I'd like to see the man who would come take us."

Pained as I was by Owen's account of this outrage, I could not much blame him. I had myself set him the example. Resolved, however, to put a stop to such proceedings in future, I commenced reading a moral lesson to Owen on the nature of civil allegiance, and the duty all men were under to keep the peace. My labour was thrown away, for my foster-brother did not, or would not, understand me. "Oh, by the powers," said he, "all that may be very true, but you see I haven't much larning, and knows nothen about it. One thing I know, however, that cows, far away, have long horns; and, beggen your pardon, Decimus, I'll believe nothen till I can see. The Sassanachs hate us, and all we have; and how can they do any thing that would make us happy? Aren't they ministers, and judges, and great grand fellows? and do you think they would let us be grand fellows too? Oh, be easy, now, and don't be after persuading us that the kite will protect chickens, or mice bees. Troth, the moon isn't made of green cheese, nor Sassanachs of Christian flesh and blood."

I found it was useless to contend with his prejudices; and so mounting his horse, and leaving him to walk, I proceeded home.

The Novellist.

THE LOVERS OF LA TRAPPE. Kings fight for kingdoms, madmen for applause,

But love for love alone.

The declining sun threw the long shadows of the trees upon the path which a solitary monk was pacing in

the garden of the monastery of La Trappe. The rules of this abode of sullen gloom were of the severest order-they had their allotted hour of exercise-but it was in solitude; they met at meals-but it was in silence; the fall of a spoon, or any such trifling accident, occasioned a motion, (for sound was unknown) of displeasure and uneasiness which passed from monk to monk, till it evinced itself still more plainly in the person of the superior at the head of the board. Their food was of the simplest, and often of the most unpalatable kind, such as unsavory herbs, bread and salt, or roots, and their drink, water. Their cowls were so disposed as to allow them to eat and see, but did not discover the countenance hid under them, and their long gowns as effectually hid their forms. The community (never very numerous) met only in the chapel or refectory, and their cells were more like the tombs of the dead than the receptacles of the living, so unconscious were they of a sound. Here echo had never tried her mimic voice, but on a sigh or the closing of a door, and scarcely that, for he was but a novice at La Trappe whoever let either be audible. Every motion partook of the dormant listlessness which was the prevailing characteristic of the place. Into this monastery it was that the French poet La Motte threw himself in disgust at the ill success of one of his operas. But we must return to our melancholy monk in the garden, who, difficult as it was to draw distinctions, where uniform monotony invested all things, might yet be distinguished from his brother monks, by a carriage far different from the mean, shuffling, soul-subdued gait of the holy fraternity. His cowl hid a head which had been a model for a Grecian sculptor, or a Chantrey, (who, when antiquity has shed some of her dust on his name, and placed him in the proper focus

of distance, may be proudly held up by exulting Britain, as the worthy rival of the artists of ancient Greece.) His gown hung from his shoulders with peculiar grace, and the air of a form unusually lofty, was dignified and erect, save when in solitude, the head sunk in the attitude of dejection, and the occasional waving of his fine hand betrayed that he was once habituated to the elegance and activity of natural life, for the automaton existence he then held may well be designated by the counter term, un-natural.

This evening he would have scandalized the order to which he belonged most seriously, could he have been beheld, pressing his forehead, as if sensible of the wildest pain, and then raising the hand, perhaps the eyes, to heaven, with expressions of desperation, every gesture seemed to say

of horror

This pomp Is fit to feed the frenzy in my soul, Here's room for meditation, e'en to madness, Till the mind burst with thinking.

He heard the muffled bell that tolled the expiration of his hour; composing his manner, he slowly returned to the convent, and sought the narrow confines of his cell. It was one of the occupations of each of the monks of La Trappe to dig his grave: an occupation which, however horrid to the gay inhabitants of the world, must have been a refuge to them from the dreadful ennui of monastic indolence, and served besides to assure them, that, at no very distant period, they would exchange their mimic for their real deaths, consummation most devoutly to be wished."

66

a

The moon was high in the heavens when our monk sought the burial ground of the monastery to conclude the work he had already begun, of excavating his last place of rest; a pace or two from him he observed a monk busied at the same duty, but the circumstance did not offend against the usage of the society,

since the place and pursuit equally enforced the observance of their usual taciturnity. Here and there a stunted yew rose above the mounds of earth where" each in his narrow cell for ever laid," the monks in dull congenial silence slept. The moon threw her cold white beams on the plain stones, that rose at intervals, to tell who lay beneath, their names continuing unknown to any, but the superior, till that event disclosed it. He had not been long busied when he thought he observed, that the other monk was less engaged in making his grave than in watching him dig his; it excited his astonishment, as he had not before observed such an indication of interest, and he could only reconcile it by supposing the monk was a new arrival, uninitiated in the extreme austerity necessary to be observed. He was still further convinced of this by hearing him breathe hard, as if from excessive weeping, and at length lay himself in a silent attitude of anguish along the earth he had thrown up. His former nature urged him to seek the stranger (as he imagined him,) but the fear he might prove one of the establishment, when he should only subject himself to a severe penance, joined to an emotion of disgust at beholding a man so weakly yield... ing to his feelings withheld him; and laying aside his spade, returned to his cell. He thought long on the circumstance, for in such a mode of life the simplest events make an inpression. When he descended to matin prayers, he noticed with the severest scrutiny all the monks, and one of a slender form, somewhat below the middle size, struck him as the individual who had wept so bitterly the night before, from the fervour that marked his devotion, striking from the contrast it presented to the cold apathy around. He resolved again to renew his watch at the hour of dinner, but at dinner he was wanting; from their evening