who was trembling with eagerness to devour it, replied in the negative; and a plateful of coarse broken victuals was set before him. I wish some well-fed philosopher, whose meat and drink turn to gall within him, whose blood is ice, and whose heart is iron, could have seen Oliver Twist clutching at the dainty viands that the dog had neglected, and witnessed the horrible avidity with which he tore the bits asunder with all the ferocity of famine:-there is only one thing I should like better; and that would be to see him make the same sort of meal himself, with the same relish. 66 Well," said the undertaker's wife, when Oliver had finished his supper, which she had regarded in silent horror, and with fearful auguries of his future appetite, "have you done?" There being nothing eatable within his reach, Oliver replied in the affirmative. "Then come with me," said Mrs. Sowerberry, taking up a dim and dirty lamp, and leading the way up stairs; " your bed's under the counter. You won't mind sleeping among the coffins, I suppose?-but it doesn't much matter whether you will or not, for you won't sleep any where else. Come; don't keep me here all night." Oliver lingered no longer, but meekly followed his new mistress. A REMNANT OF THE TIME OF IZAAK WALTON. VENATOR, AMATOR, EBRIOLUS. Venator. Good morrow, good morrow! say whither ye go, To the chase above, or the woods below? Brake and hollow their quarry hold, The dappled herd in peace may graze, The chase of Love alone is mine. Ebriolus. Your venison and pike Ye may get as ye like, They grace a board right well; But the sport for my share Is the chase of old Care, When the wine-cup tolls his knell. Venator. Give ye good-den, my masters twain, Go thou, and blink o'er thy noon-day wine; THE "ORIGINAL" DRAGON. A LEGEND OF THE CELESTIAL EMPIRE. Freely translated from an undeciphered MS. of Con-fuse-us,* and dedicated to Colonel Bolsover, (of the Horse Marines,) by C. J. Davids, Esq. I. A DESPERATE dragon, of singular size,— (His name was Wing-Fang-Scratch-Claw-Fum,)— Flew up one day to the top of the skies, While all the spectators with terror were dumb. The vagabond vow'd as he sported his tail, He'd have a sky lark, and some glorious fun : For he'd nonplus the natives that day without fail, He collected a crowd by his impudent boast, (Some decently dress'd-some with hardly a rag on,) Who said that the country was ruin'd and lost, Unless they could compass the death of the dragon. II. The emperor came with the whole of his court,-- To go within reach of so ugly a beast. So he offer'd his daughter, the lovely Nan-Keen, III. Presently came a reverend bonze,— (His name, I'm told, was Long-Chin Joss,)— (A virtue he always delighted to brag on,) * "Better known to illiterate people as Confucius."-WASHINGTON IRVING. + In China (whatever European astronomers may assert to the contrary) an eclipse is caused by a great dragon eating up the sun. To avert so shocking an outrage, the natives frighten away the monster from his intended hot dinner, by giving a morning concert, al fresco; consisting of drums, trumpets, cymbals, gongs, tin-kettles, &c. IV. The next that spoke was the court buffoon,- With which, he suggested, the job might be done. As his merry conceits led the whimsical wag on, By putting some salt on the tail of the dragon! V. At length appear'd a brisk young knight, (The far fam'd warrior, Bam-Boo-Gong,)— He damag'd the dragon by cracking his crown; They carried the corpse, in a common stage-waggon; And the hero was crown'd with the leaves of green tea, For saving the sun from the jaws of the dragon. VI. A poet, whose works were all the rage, (This gentleman's name was Sing-Song-Strum,)— Told the terrible tale on his popular page: (Compar'd with his verses, my rhymes are but rum!) The Royal Society claim'd as their right The spoils of the vanquish'd-his wings, tail, and claws; And a brilliant bravura, describing the fight, Was sung on the stage with unbounded applause. "The valiant Bam-Boo" was a favourite toast, And a topic for future historians to fag on, Which, when it had reach'd to the Middlesex coast, Gave rise to the legend of "George and the Dragon." A PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF BEAUMARCHAIS. BY GEORGE HOGARTH. M. DE BEAUMARCHAIS, the celebrated French dramatist, was one of the most remarkable men of his time, though his fame now rests in a great measure on his two comedies, Le Barbier de Seville, and Le Mariage de Figaro; and even these titles are now-a-days much more generally associated with the names of Rossini and Mozart, than with that of Beaumarchais. Few comedies, however, have been more popular on the French stage than these delightful productions. The character of Susanna was the chef d'œuvre of the fascinating Mademoiselle Contat; and has preserved its attractions, almost down. to the present time, in the hands of her evergreen successor, the inimitable Mars. The Count and Countess Almaviva, Susanna, Figaro, and Cherubino, have now become the property of Italian singers; and, in this musical age, even the French public have been content to give up the wit, satire, point, and playfulness of the original comedies, for those meagre outlines which have been made the vehicles for the most charming dramatic music in the world. Not that Il Barbiere di Siviglia and Le Nozze di Figaro are not lively and amusing, considered as operas; but the vis comica of Beaumarchais has almost entirely evaporated in the process of transmutation. None of the other dramatic works of Beaumarchais are comparable to these. Some of them bear marks of immature genius; and his last play, La Mère Coupable, the conclusion of the history of the Almaviva family, was written after a long interval, and when advanced age, and a life of cares and troubles, appear to have extinguished the author's gaiety, and changed the tone of his feelings. The play is written with power, but it is gloomy, and even tragical; succeeding its lively and brilliant precursors as a sunset of clouds and darkness closes a bright and smiling day. It painfully disturbs the agreeable associations produced by the names of its characters; and, for the sake of these associations, every one who reads it must wish to forget it. But it is not so much to the writings of Beaumarchais, as to himself, that we wish at present to direct the attention of our readers. His life was anything but that of a man of letters. He possessed extraordinary talents for affairs; and, during his whole life, was deeply engaged in important pursuits both of a private and public nature. Extensive commercial enterprises, lawsuits of singular complication, and missions of great moment as a political agent, withdrew him from the walks of literature, and probably prevented him (as one of his biographers has remarked) from enriching the French stage with twenty dramatic masterpieces, instead of two or three. In this respect he resembled our Sheridan, as well as in the character of his genius; for we know of no plays that are more akin to each other, in many remarkable features, than the The School for Scandal and Le Mariage de Figaro. It is a remarkable circumstance in the history of Beaumarchais, that a considerable portion of his literary fame was derived from a species of composition from which anything of the kind could hardly have been expected, the pleadings, or law-papers, in the various R causes in which he was involved. The proceedings in the French parliaments, or high courts of justice, were totally different from those with which we are acquainted in England; though they were similar to those which were practised in the Scottish court of session, (a tribunal formed on the French model,) before that court came in for its share in the general progress of reform. There were no juries; the proceedings were conducted under the direction of a single judge, whose business it was to prepare the cause for decision, and then to make a report upon it to the whole court, by whom the judgment was given. A favourable view of the case from the reporting judge was, of course, an object of much importance; and the most urgent solicitations by the litigants and their friends-nay, even bribeswere often employed to obtain it. A charge against Beaumarchais, -a groundless one, however,-of having attempted to bribe the wife of one of these judges, exposed him to a long and violent persecution. Among his enemies were men of rank and power; the grossest calumnies against him were circulated in the highest quarters, and countenanced by the court in which he was a litigant; the bar became afraid to support him, and he could no longer find an advocate. In these forlorn circumstances the energy of his character did not abandon him, and he resolved to become his own advocate. The pleadings in the French courts of those days were all written. The cause was debated in mémoires, or memorials, in which the pleas of the parties were stated without any of our technical formality. Law, logic, eloquence, pathos, and sarcasm were all employed, in whatever way the pleader thought most advantageous. The paper was printed and distributed, not only among the judges, but among the friends and connexions of the parties; and when the case excited much interest, the distribution was often so extensive as almost to amount to publication. Beaumarchais, deserted by his former advocates, began to compose his own memorials, to which he found means to obtain the mere signature of some member of the bar. In this manner he fought a long and desperate battle, in which, after some severe reverses, (one of which was the burning of a series of his memorials by the common hangman, pursuant to a sentence of the court,) he at length achieved a complete and signal victory over all his enemies, whom he not only defeated on the immediate subjects of dispute, but overwhelmed with universal ridicule and contempt. In the mean time these mémoires produced an extraordinary sensation throughout France. When a new one appeared, it flew from hand to hand like lightning. The causes in which Beaumarchais was involved were so interesting in themselves, and connected with such strange occurrences, that, had they belonged to the period of the Causes Célébres, they would have made a remarkable figure in that famous collection. Their interest was increased a thousand-fold the memorials of Beaumarchais. "The genius," says a French w "with which they are marked, the originality of the style, matic form of the narrative, mingled wi keep the attention always awake; wh reasoning, and the art of accompany striking and conclusive evidence, 1: and instruct, without fatiguing the able feature is the noble firmness bursts of e al clearn d, an · mos y di |