"again to spring thence-a Hercules from the lap of Hebe!"

But our wishes cede to circumstance.

No. 7.-Chivalry Modernised; or Knight and Lady of the Nineteenth Century.

Is this Don Carlos?

YOUNG.-The Revenge.

Is she a Capulet?

SHAKSPERE.-Romeo and Juliet.

Verity is preferable to variety: whence the compiler of this memoir, trembling at the perilous altitude of the peruser's impatience, and himself desirous to involve him in its deeper, darker, more engrossing mazes, yet prayeth sufferance, and maketh all manner of imaginable protestations for what is to succeed. Moreover, though, should peruser precipitate himself from said perch, by shutting angrily up this present handbook, it is wholly impossible he should dislocate

any neck except his own; and though, if he but complaisantly be committed to its guidance, it shall safely, however slowlier, deposit him in the nethermost nook of the afore-mentioned, muchsought, mysterious, intricate abyss ;-notwithstanding, compiler shall organise easy stages of progression, at narrative-intervals of a month or so, for the especial behoof of those literary tourists who maintain travelling by night and asleep, that sunrise may unseal their optics to the bustle and crush of big towns, the happiest mode of locomotion, and best fitted for improving acquaintance with the country and its capabilities at large.

THEREFORE, NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVEN, that, nearly as can be ascertained, one calendar month after, Lord Camell transported a pair of hunters to the stalls of Woodley by reason of its convenience for certain prospective "meets ;" and his lordship himself seized a post upon the sofa, inquiring languidly what Emile was about to

execute.

"Prepare for the run you're so set on my partaking, by a canter."

"Allons! I've a liking for its woods. But wherever you prefer."

"Non," Camell said, "c'est impossible. Today's dedicate to the arrogance, absurdity, ignorance, the-the-bêtises of the French! voilà ce 'France Littéraire.""

"By the bye," said Emile, "whence is it that you, who so repudiate the writers, so constantly read and quote their works?"

"I read French to acquire patriotic antipathy, and quote French to keep it up. But I admire the language, though I detest the nation."

"And that, on what principle, again?"

"I admire, from the unprejudiced liberality peculiar to our incomparable land, that can grant a rival second honors, though justly reserving the first to itself; and detest-because"-stopping for the sentence that should scrupulously define a constitutional animosity.

"Because," suggested Villiers, forcing mirth, (in brief) French is not English ?”

"Assurément, 'mon jeune Caton,' vous avez raison," returned his lordship, unheeding, or not appearing to heed, the satire. "Adieu!"

Neutral between Shetly and Woodley was a

moor, about three miles broad, and five long. A cross-road, under-skirting both demesnes, semicircled its upper end; in whose unevennesses a ravine hid, of tolerable depth. A precipitous slope conducted down, thick with brambles, fern, wild evergreens, and quarried fragments; topped by a crag popularly called the giant-stone, visible in its naked solitariness even from the waste's far boundary. Below, by a shaggy covert, protruded a scrap of vividly-green and really luxuriant pasture, which a compact pool, darkling, laved.

On the right, it smoothed, shrubless, to Shetly, intersected by wide trenches for drainage; on the left, to Woodley's congregate plantations; inferiorly, stretched away, monotonous; and, in front, undulated to the ravine, with its erect one crag blanching in the glitter of a February sun, relieved boldly by the russet of the sober uplands.

Thither ambled Villiers-ambled, quo' he? as fugitive from hell, urged madly to the hollow. For, thither also, another horse raced, with curved neck, teeth fast upon the bit, and nose level with the turf-its whole mettle collected for the rush;

and its rider, unable to arrest the runaway, yet unshrinking, the lady of his antecedent convoy.

Obliquely, as desperately, he dashed abreast, and with the cry, "Loose your foot, and be cool," grasped her. She swerved off-the demand for possession past-in a faint. Her fierce steed spurned the undulation, shot from the summit, and down the gorge whirled, driving the slate clattering to the bottom, crashing the tangled briars, rebounding from mass to mass, hither and thither, with terrific contortion-till, striking full a firmer rock which marged the pool, and purpling it with scattered brains, the bruised carcass vibrated, turned-over once, and settled heavily by the water's edge, ere the shrill whinny had ceased to tingle in the air above.

During the lady's suspension of her sex's charter the organ of speech-a family-draft may be interjected.

Colonel Evrett and Dalyell Villiers had no intimacy. They met, with punctilious formalism; they parted, without demonstration against renewed meeting. This contained the enigmatic, which boastful report did little to unriddle. They had borne arms on the Peninsula, but in diverse wings; yet, hint was extant of close private