years of bitterest agony !-Ha! Think you she'll resist?

'Is she a woman, and unmoved by pomp?
Is she a woman, and unsoothed by love?

Is she a woman, and untouched by pride ?'"

"Out upon you for a Pyrrhonist!" cried Villiers; "but heavens! that beautiful creature! -who is she?"

He particularised (not, surely, a matron) a girl-whose attire, perfect in its rich plainness, was less adapted to heighten, than harmonise with, the calm composure of the wearer's incomparable loveliness. Her bust would have maddened an artist: the rest of her contour was unexceptionable-though below even the middlesize-and her age, peradventure, twenty. "The very air" "-St. Leger whispered

"The very air seems lighter from her eyes,
They are so soft, and beautiful, and rife

With all we can imagine of the skies,

And pure as Psyche'

(A-hem, Villiers !)

ere she

grew a wife!'

This, most noble Festus!' is Céleste de Pré

ville."

No. 2.-An underling of the corps diplomatique.

Let the end try the man.

SHAKSPERE.-Henry IV, Part 2.

As Villiers devoured the Moniteur, and Camell ran through a treatise on deer-stalking, Messrs. Aspic and Nihill were ushered-in. Without contradiction, the cynic of Sapperton.

Mourning predicated his daughter's decease, upon her landing at Boulogne. "But," said he, "wherefore our foresight, if not to discern evils? and our reflection, if not to support them?Whatever our griefs or annoyances, we should bear each manfully and unmurmuring."

Villiers was commencing to condole-when Camell, going out, clapped the door rather violently -and up-jumped Aspic in vehement railing against the thoughtlessness of some people !—his "brain had been splitting since breakfast"—and

now "yon curst sprig" had shivered it "to the verge of madness!"-this "sottish stupidity" how be despised and execrated!

The censor's acquisitions in peevishness were apparently commensurate with his pretensions to stoicism.

Himself a stranger to Paris, arriving only last night, and putting-up at the Hôtel de L― et D—, where lodged likewise Mr. Nihill, who had to call on one Berkeley St. Leger (of pretty notorious antics) in the same establishment, such escort was acceptable Through which expla

nation hardly had he got, when the latter made his own proper entrée, maced by the bar of an opera-song.

"Disengaged, Villiers, this afternoon ?"

"Then let me arrest you at the suit of St. Leger! and I guarantee

'There shall not be on earth

Two souls more elegant in mirth

Hallo, Nihill? is that a fetch? Ah, you've some new point upon our controversy ?”

"Your controversy?" echoed Villiers.

"Yes," said the roguish Berkeley; "we've

been continuing, for a reputable period, more clerico, the paramount discussion, whether feminine night-caps have borders or no."

"I think," said Nihill, sagely smacking his blubber-lips, "I can now prove as how they certainly have. Don't you remember the sketch of it in that ballad (where the creturs slap-on their bonnets in the morning, before taking-off their night-caps) to the tune of 'blue bonnets over the border?""

Midst a peal from Villiers and an exquisite look from Aspic, "That's decisive!" cried St. Leger. "And, for reward, you may read those really fine stanzas on flowers"-handing a number of Bentley's Miscellany, with which Nihill retrograded— his impregnable bonhommie unshaken.-" Boh!” said he, returning it, however, at once," they ain't the thing for me."

"Whose authorship?" asked Villiers.

"Pox!" uttered Nihill-" I never minded on't,

I declare."

"Torre Holme's," responded Berkeley. "Oh!-aye!"-cried Nihill, catching the words imperfectly-" Torrid zone !-I-I don't relish the style."

"Rather too warm-eh?" suggested St. Leger.

"Lord!" cried Nihill, poking at the window -"there's a queer old codger! I never see a funnier! trudging, with fists under skirts, and whiting in his hair, and a coat cut after the fashion of his great-grandad's, on the King's Fooleries, for all just as if they were his own!" "That's Lord Tobit," said Villiers.

"Save us!" ejaculated Nihill-"Lord Tophet !"

"What!" exclaimed St. Leger, "will you demit him thither before his time? Now, that's what I designate inhuman."

"Ain't yon black-looking cock Folatty?" soliloquised Aspic's escort: "more betoken, I want to speak to him pertickler. Gen'lemen, your most obedient!" And, with a low bow, he fustled incontinently out.

"How considerate Nature is," said Aspicwhich, in narrowing the sense, narrows also the consciousness thereof."

"The only hit he ever perpetrated," remarked Berkeley, "was by mistake. Virtuosi chatting on French writers, and none able to explicate the mediocrity of the women, considering the celebrity of the men' Perhaps,' said Nihill, with wonted simplicity, 'it's as how the Salique Law prevails." "