this, must have expanded hugely), that period, in accidents, delinquencies, soliloquies, and “grand tableaux" of many or few actors (in accordance with the several faculty aforesaid); always providing that our piece's moderation be not impaired by interpolations either too transcendentally loud or too damnatorily low, and the unassuming number usually on the boards at once, with their distinctive strut, oratory, designs, and dresses (hired expressly for the occasion), be had respect to: which leaves said gracious readers the exact privilege of distributing the farthing-dips as it pleaseth each, superintending the abstruse machinery, and popping their noses (without a knock) into the green-room. The prolongation of the yet-unshifted scene, however, depending upon a portlier personage (that is to say, the manager), it is but due the "star" now under indefinite penance to "direct" that he-in. his certainly romantic wretchedness, but exceedingly common-place poverty, disinheritment, isolation, defamation, and declension -to which may, for climax, be appended contemptuousness and a streak of straggling misanthropy―should, on inscription of the above noun feminine, pace his studio, with knit brows -and what musings, the sagacious may conjecture. Chimes! Three. That time-keeper's an acute! if he don't twist his twin wiry fingers up and away from the heap of epistles upon his right! he'd not have Villiers overhaul them! he obviously insinuates-"to bed with you!" A rogue! -But Villiers, in abstraction, unfolds again the uppermost and tosses it by. The next is Camell's; which also-when the postscript! Had it been unread before? Was it endorsed within twelve hours? Why the characters are novel-and terrible, if that rush of crimson be a sign-and that exit of rapidity. All is soundless in yon chamber, which the twilight of a modest lamp defines: Where, like damosel in the midst of spell-suspended life-so gentle her respirings-Zizinè presses, scarce presses, her pillow,-upon the snowy coverlet, one long, tress, in its half-golden, half-dark-brown hues, contentedly lying, escaped the pink-laced fillet where Villiers stands. Oh! if for the Poet, conjurations of unterrestrial beauty must fire his enthusiastic line: if, for the Artist, adumbrations from ideality body forth the Olym-" pian unemblemed of his mates; that reposing : girl might have originated a School of Art.And hesitates he to infringe those delicatelyparted lips, which, there, invite-though, waking, they would, with sweetest timorousness, retire from-the convulsed imprint of his ?-He wavers on emasculation-He tears himself asunder. Slow Morning glimmers.-He seals an envelope to Evelyn; deposits, by it, a strip for Zizinė; loads a brace of pistols; flings a cloak across his shoulders; lifts his valise; and spurns the threshold, as the sun's messenger-ray greets the iced summit of Mont Cervin. -And whither does he wend?-Was his but deceptive?-Vibrates still his sternness breast to The sad music of Humanity?* * Wordsworth. No. 8.-A turn to the godlier. Hence, ye profane! I hate your ways— There's a wide difference in our race, And distant are our goals. WATTS.-Hora Lyricæ. The "C" was by the quay of Hâvre, debarking a British cargo. Two males, pending their luggage-landing, sauntered alongside, chatting with the urbanity which renders that country not less famous than felicitous. In "town" they would have "chopped" (to borrow from Mr. J. Smith's vocabulary) under the enviable designation of "fashionables." "He's apt to prove a bore," said the taller; whom an elegantly-cut top-coat encased—a chin, the best-chiseled in the western hemisphere, overpeeping a muffler, which-November sighing coolly round-it quite warmed to look at, independent of the glow of admiration the coping itself engendered. "Not as baud as your mother!" retorted his "chum" (thanks again, Mr. Smith !)—whom curly hair decorated, to an extent that had compelled a Truefitt at all risks to transgress the tenth commandment. "Oh,” said he of the Chin, with significant complacence—" it's a point with us to have no family-jars besides, she will be at Mrs.'s, St. Cloud. So, bewail with grace, Cuthbert, your more incommodious appurtenance." Now, this was a charming bit of banter, and, considering it between friends, and not meant for the public, might be pronounced verging to downright wit. Boy my "Pray don't! You'll distress me : particularly should you slip similarly in the maternal presence. Oh, fye, Cuthbert! is governor's pious advice so thrown away on you!" "Certes, then," said Cuthbert-affable to the grave jocoseness-"Certes, (to aunswer mild) you hauve the best of it. But we shaull indemnify ourself by pairing-off (devlish haundsome jade |