“O Lord, no: pray tell me what it is?" "O no, ma'am, I beg your la'ship will excuse me; 'tis a profound secret, and I would not have mentioned it, if I had not thought you knew it."

"Lord, now, how can you be so monstrous? I declare, now, you're a provoking creature! But come, I know you'll tell me;-won't you, now?"

"Your la'ship knows I am but too happy to obey you; but, 'pon honour, I can't speak a word if you won't all promise me the most inviolable secrecy."

"I wish you'd wait for that from me," said the captain, "and I'll give you my word you'd be dumb for one while. Secrecy, quoth-a! 'Fore George, I wonder you a'n't ashamed to mention such a word when you talk of telling it to a woman. Though, for the matter of that, I'd as lief blab it to the whole sex at once as to go for to tell it to such a thing as you." "Such a thing as me, sir!" said Mr. Lovel, letting fall his knife and fork, and looking very important; "I really have not the honour to understand your expression."

"It's all one for that," said the captain; "you may have it explained whenever you like it."

"Pon honour, sir," returned Mr. Lovel, "I must take the liberty to tell you, that I should be extremely offended, but that I suppose it to be some sea-phrase; and therefore I'll let it pass without further notice."

Lord Orville, then, to change the discourse, asked Miss Mirvan, if she should spend the ensuing winter in London.

"No, to be sure," said the captain; "what should she for? she saw all that was to be seen before."

"Is London, then," said Mr. Lovel, smiling at Lady Louisa, "only to be regarded as a sight?"

“Why, pray, Mr. Wiseacre, how are you pleased for to regard it yourself?—Answer me to that."

"O sir, my opinion, I fancy, you would hardly find intelligible. I don't understand sea-phrases enough to define it to your comprehension. Does not your la'ship think the task would be rather difficult?"

"O Lord, yes," cried Lady Louisa; "I declare I'd as soon teach my parrot to talk Welsh."

"Ha ha ha! admirable!-'Pon honour, your la'ship's quite in luck to-day; but that, indeed, your la'ship is every day. Though,

that the gentlemen of the ocean have a set of ideas, as well as a dialect, so opposite to ours, that it is by no means surprising they should regard London as a mere show, that may be seen by being looked at. Ha ha! ha!" "Ha! ha!" echoed Lady Louisa: "Well, I declare you are the drollest creature."

'He! he! 'Pon honour, I can't help laughing at the conceit of seeing London in a few weeks!"

"And what a plague should hinder you?" cried the captain; "do you want to spend a day in every street?"

Here again Lady Louisa and Mr. Lovel interchanged smiles.

"Why, I warrant you, if I had the showing it, I'd haul you from St. James's to Wapping the very first morning."

The smiles were now, with added contempt, repeated; which the captain observing, looked very fiercely at Mr. Lovel, and said, "Hark'ee, my spark, none of your grinning!-'tis a lingo I don't understand; and if you give me any more of it, I shall go near to lend you a box o' the ear.'

"I protest, sir," said Mr. Lovel, turning extremely pale, "I think it's taking a very particular liberty with a person, to talk to one in such a style as this!"

"It's like you may," returned the captain: "but give a good gulp, and I'll warrant you'll swallow it." Then calling for a glass of ale, with a very provoking and significant nod, he drank to his easy digestion.

Mr. Lovel made no answer, but looked extremely sullen; and soon after, we left the gentlemen to themselves.

At tea-time we were joined by all the gentlemen but Captain Mirvan, who went to the hotel where he was to sleep, and made his daughter accompany him, to separate her trumpery, as he called it, from his clothes.

As soon as they were gone, Mr. Lovel, who still appeared extremely sulky, said, “I protest I never saw such a vulgar, abusive fellow in my life as that captain: 'pon honour, I believe he came here for no purpose in the world but to pick a quarrel: however, for my part, I vow I won't humour him."

"I declare," cried Lady Louisa, "he put me in a monstrous fright;-I never heard anybody talk so shocking in my life!"

"I think," said Mrs. Selwyn, with great solemnity, "he threatened to box your ears, Mr. Lovel;-did not he?"

of people say, one should never be at rest for one impertinence or other; so I think the best way is to be above taking any notice of them."

"What!" said Mrs. Selwyn, with the same gravity, "and so receive the blow in silence?" During this discourse I heard the captain's chaise stop at the door, and ran downstairs to meet Maria. She was alone, and told me that her father, who, she was sure, had some scheme in agitation against Mr. Lovel, had sent her on before him. We continued in the parlour til his return, and were joined by Lord Orville, who begged me not to insist on a patience so unnatural, as submitting to be excluded our society. And let me, my dear sir, with a grateful heart let me own, I never before passed half an hour in such perfect felicity.

I believe we were all sorry when the captain returned; yet his inward satisfaction, from however different a cause, did not seem inferior to what ours had been. He chucked Maria under the chin, rubbed his hands, and was scarce able to contain the fulness of his glee. We all attended him to the drawing-room; where, having composed his countenance, without any previous attention to Mrs. Beaumont, he marched up to Mr. Lovel, and abruptly said, "Pray, have you e'er a brother in these here parts?"

'tis the same person I took for your relation."

And then, to the utter astonishment of everybody but himself, he hauled into the room a monkey, full dressed, and extravagantly ả la mode!

The dismay of the company was almost general. Poor Mr. Lovel seemed thunderstruck with indignation and surprise: Lady Louisa began a scream, which for some time was incessant; Miss Mirvan and I jumped involuntarily upon the seats of our chairs; Mrs. Beaumont herself followed our example; Lord Orville placed himself before me as a guard; and Mrs. Selwyn, Lord Merton, and Mr. Coverley, burst into a loud, immoderate, ungovernable fit of laughter, in which they were joined by the captain, till, unable to support himself, he rolled on the floor.

The first voice which made its way through this general noise was that of Lady Louisa, which her fright and screaming rendered extremely shrill. "Take it away!" cried she, "take the monster away;--I shall faint, I shall faint, if you don't!"

Mr. Lovel, irritated beyond endurance, angrily demanded of the captain what he meant.

from all encumbrances of that sort.

"Well," cried the captain, "I met a person just now so like you, I could have sworn he had been your twin-brother."

"It would have been a most singular pleasure to me," said Mr. Lovel, “if I also could have seen him: for, really, I have not the least notion what sort of person I am, and I have a prodigious curiosity to know."

Just then the captain's servant, opening the door, said, "A little gentleman below desires to see one Mr. Lovel."

"Beg him to walk up stairs," said Mrs. Beaumont. "But, pray, what is the reason William is out of the way?"

gentlemen, I'll be judged by you all!-Did you ever see anything more like?-Odds my life, if it wasn't for this here tail, you wouldn't know one from t'other."

"Sir," cried Mr. Lovel, stamping, "I shall take a time to make you feel my wrath.'

"Come now," continued the regardless captain, "just for the fun's sake, doff your coat and waistcoat, and swop with Monsieur Grin again here; and I'll warrant you'll not know yourself which is which."

"Not know myself from a nonkey-I assure you, sir, I'm not to be used in this manner, and I won't bear it, curse me if I will!"

A confused noise among the servants now drew all eyes towards the door: the impatient captain hastened to open it; and then clapping his hands, called out, "Fore George,

paw with him:-why, he'll do you no harm, man!—come, kiss and be friends!"

"Who, I?" cried Mr. Lovel, almost mad with vexation; "as I'm a living creature, I would not touch him for a thousand worlds!"

"Send him a challenge," cried Mr. Coverley, "and I'll be your second."

"Ay, do," said the captain, and I'll be second

to my friend Monsieur Clapperclaw here. Come to it at once!-tooth and nail!"

"Heaven forbid!" cried Mr. Lovel, retreating, "I would sooner trust my person with a mad bull!"

"I don't like the looks of him myself," said Lord Merton, "for he grins most horribly."

"O, I'm frightened out of my senses!" cried Lady Louisa: "take him away, or I shall die!" "Captain," said Lord Orville, "the ladies are alarmed; and I must beg you would send the monkey away."

Poor Mr. Lovel, too much intimidated to stand his ground, yet too much enraged to submit, turned hastily round, and, forgetful of consequences, vented his passion by giving a furious blow to the monkey.

The creature, darting forwards, sprung instantly upon him: and clinging round his neck, fastened his teeth to one of his ears.

I was really sorry for the poor man; who, though an egregious fop, had committed no offence that merited such chastisement.

It was impossible now to distinguish whose screams were loudest, those of Mr. Lovel or of the terrified Lady Louisa, who, I believe, thought her own turn was approaching: but the unrelenting captain roared with joy.

Not so Lord Orville: ever humane, generous, and benevolent, he quitted his charge, who he saw was wholly out of danger, and seizing the monkey by the collar, made him loosen the ear; and then, with a sudden swing, flung him out of the room, and shut the door.

Poor Mr. Lovel, almost fainting with terror, sunk upon the floor, crying out, "O, I shall die, I shall die! O, I'm bit to death!"

"Captain Mirvan," said Mrs. Beaumont, with no little indignation, "I must own I don't perceive the wit of this action; and I am sorry to have such cruelty practised in my house."

"Why, Lord, ma'am," said the captain, when his rapture abated sufficiently for speech, "how could I tell they'd fall out so?-By jingo, I brought him to be a messmate for t'other.'

"Why, then, there's the odds of it," said the captain; "for you see he is served so for nothing. But come," turning to Mr. Lovel, "be of good heart; all may end well yet, and you and monseer Longtail be as good friends as ever."

"I'm surprised, Mrs. Beaumont," cried Mr. Lovel, starting up, "that you can suffer a person under your roof to be treated so inhumanly."

"What argufies so many words?" said the unfeeling captain; "it is but a slit of the ear; it only looks as if you had been in the pillory."

"Very true," added Mrs. Selwyn; "and who knows but it may acquire you the credit of being an antiministerial writer?"

"I protest," cried Mr. Lovel, looking ruefully at his dress, "my new riding-suit's all over blood!"

"Ha, ha, ha!" cried the captain, "see what comes of studying for an hour what you shall put on!"

Mr. Lovel then walked to the glass; and looking at the place, exclaimed, "O Heaven, what a monstrous wound! my ear will never be fit to be seen again!"

"Why then," said the captain, "you must hide it;-'tis but wearing a wig.'

"A wig!" repeated the affrighted Mr. Lovel; "I wear a wig?-No, not if you would give me a thousand pounds an hour!"

"I declare," said Lady Louisa, "I never heard such a shocking proposal in my life!"

Lord Orville then, seeing no prospect that the altercation would cease, proposed to the captain to walk. He assented; and having given Mr. Lovel a nod of exultation, accompanied his lordship down stairs.

"Pon honour," said Mr. Lovel, the moment the door was shut, "that fellow is the greatest brute in nature! he ought not to be admitted into a civilized society."

"Lovel," said Mr. Coverley, affecting to whisper, "you must certainly pink him: you must not put up with such an affront."

"Sir," said Mr. Lovel, "with any common person I should not deliberate an instant; but really with a fellow who has done nothing but fight all his life, 'pon honour, sir, I can't think of it!"

"Lovel," said Lord Merton, in the same voice, "you must call him to account.'

"Sir," cried he, very impatiently, "upon any proper occasion, I should be as ready to show my courage as anybody; but as to fighting for such a trifle as this-I protest I should blush to think of it!"

"A trifle!" cried Mrs. Selwyn; "good Heaven! and have you made this astonishing riot about a trifle?"

"Ma'am," answered the poor wretch in great confusion, "I did not know at first but that my cheek might have been bit; but as 'tis no worse, why, it does not a great deal signify. Mrs. Beaumont, I have the honour to wish you a good evening; I'm sure my carriage must be waiting." And then, very abruptly, he left the room.

What a commotion has this mischief-loving captain raised! Were I to remain here long, even the society of my dear Maria could scarce compensate for the disturbances which he excites.

ON SIGHT OF A LADY'S FACE IN

THE WATER.

[Thomas Carew, born 1589; died 1639. He belonged to a Gloucestershire family of distinction; educated at Oxford, and became gentleman of the privy chamber

and sewer in ordinary to Charles I. He wrote elegant lyrics, and a masque entitled Calum Britannicum, once ascribed to Sir William Davenant. "He deservedly ranks among the earliest of those who gave a cultivated grace to our lyrical strains "-Campbell.]

Stand still, you floods, do not deface
That image which you bear:
So votaries, from every place,
To you shall altars rear.

No winds but lover's sighs blow here,
To trouble these glad streams,
On which no star from any sphere
Did ever dart such beams.

To crystal then in haste congeal, Lest you should lose your bliss; And to my cruel fair reveal,

How cold, how hard she is.

But if the envious Nymphs shall fear
Their beauties will be scorn'd,
And hire the ruder winds to tear
That face which you adorn'd;

Then rage and foam amain, that we
Their malice may despise;

And from your froth we soon shall see
A second Venus rise.

CŒUR DE LION IN PALESTINE.

[Edward Gibbon, born at Putney, Surrey, 27th April, 1737; died in London, 15th January, 1794. Author of The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire: The History of the Crusades: An Essay on the Study of Literature, and an Autobiography. His great History was first projected in October, 1764, and was completed on the 27th

June, 1787, at Lausanne, where a large portion of it

was written and where the author spent much of his life. Gibbon is said to have received £6000 for the whole work.]

Philip Augustus and Richard I. are the only kings of France and England who (A.D. 1191-92) have fought under the same banners; but the holy service in which they were enlisted was incessantly disturbed by their national jealousy; and the two factions which they protected in Palestine were more averse to each other than to the common enemy. In the eyes of the orientals the French monarch was superior in dignity and power, and in the emperor's absence the Latins revered him as their temporal chief. His exploits were not adequate to his fame. Philip was brave, but the statesman predominated in his character; he was soon weary of sacrificing his health and interest on a barren coast. The surrender of Acre became the signal of his departure; nor could he justify this unpopular desertion by leaving the Duke of Burgundy, with 500 knights and 10,000 foot, for the service of the Holy Land. The King of England, though inferior in dignity, surpassed his rival in wealth and military renown; and if heroism be confined to brutal and ferocious valour, Richard Plantagenet will stand high among the heroes of the age. The memory of Cœur de Lion, of the lion-hearted prince, was long dear and glorious to his English subjects, and at the distance of sixty years it was celebrated in proverbial sayings by the grandsons of the Turks and Saracens, against whom he had fought. His tremendous name was employed by the Syrian mothers to silence their infants; and if a horse suddenly started from the way, his rider was wont to exclaim, "Dost thou think King Richard is in that bush?" His cruelty to the Mohammedans was the effect of temper and zeal; but I cannot believe that a soldier so free and fearless in the use of his lance would have descended to whet a dagger against his valiant brother Conrad of Montferrat, who was slain at Tyre by some secret assassins. After the surrender of Acre and the departure of Philip, the King of England led the Crusaders to the recovery of the seacoast; and the cities of Cæsarea and Jaffa were

added to the fragments of the Kingdom of Lusignan. A march of 100 miles from Acre to Ascalon was a great and perpetual battle of eleven days. In the disorder of his troops Saladin remained on the field with seventeen guards without lowering his standard or suspending the sound of his brazen kettle-drum. He again rallied and renewed the charge, and his preachers or heralds called aloud on the unitarians manfully to stand up against the Christian idolaters. But the progress of these idolaters was irresistible; and it was only by demolishing the walls and buildings of Ascalon that the sultan could prevent them from occupying an important fortress on the confines of Egypt. During a severe winter the armies slept; but in the spring the Franks advanced within a day's march of Jerusalem, under the leading standard of the English king, and his active spirit intercepted a convoy or caravan of 7000 camels. Saladin had fixed his station in the holy city, but the city was struck with consternation and discord. He fasted, he prayed, he preached, he offered to share the dangers of the siege; but his Mamalukes, who remembered the fate of their companions at Acre, pressed the sultan with loyal or seditious clamours to reserve his person and their courage for the future defence of the religion and empire. The Moslems were delivered by the sudden, or, as they deemed, the miraculous retreat of the Christians; and the laurels of Richard were blasted by the prudence or envy of his companions. The hero, ascending an hill and veiling his face, exclaimed with an indignant voice, "Those who are unwilling to rescue are unworthy to view the sepulchre of Christ!" After his return to Acre, on the news that Jaffa was surprised by the sultan, he sailed with some merchant vessels, and leaped foremost on the beach. The castle was relieved by his presence, and 60,000 Turks and Saracens fled before his arms. The discovery of his weakness provoked them to return in the morning, and they found him carelessly encamped before the gates with only seventeen knights and 300 archers. Without counting their numbers he sustained their charge; and we learn from the evidence of his enemies that the King of England, grasping his lance, rode furiously along their front from the right to the left wing without meeting an adversary who dared to encounter his career. Am I writing the history of Orlando or Amadis?

During these hostilities a languid and tedious negotiation between the Franks and Moslems was started, and continued, and broken, and again resumed, and again broken. Some

acts of royal courtesy, the gift of snow and fruit, the exchange of Norway hawks and Arabian horses, softened the asperity of religious war. From the vicissitudes of success the monarchs might learn to suspect that Heaven was neutral in the quarrel; nor, after the trial of each other, could either hope for a decisive victory. The health both of Richard and Saladin appeared to be in a declining state, and they respectively suffered the evils of distant and domestic warfare. Plantagenet was impatient to punish a perfidious rival who had invaded Normandy in his absence; and the indefatigable sultan was subdued by the cries of the people, who was the victim, and of the soldiers, who were the instruments of his martial zeal. The first demands of the King of England were the restitution of Jerusalem, Palestine, and the true cross; and he firmly declared that himself and his brother pilgrims would end their lives in the pious labour rather than return to Europe with ignominy and remorse. But the conscience of Saladin refused, without some weighty compensation, to restore the idols or promote the idolatry of the Christians. He asserted with equal firmness his religious and civil claim to the sovereignty of Palestine; descanted on the importance and sanctity of Jerusalem; and rejected all terms of the establishment or partition of the Latins. The marriage which Richard proposed of his sister with the sultan's brother was defeated by the difference of faith. A personal interview was declined by Saladin, who alleged their mutual ignorance of each other's language; and the negotiation was managed with much art and delay by their interpreters and envoys. The final agreement (A. D. 1192, Sept.) was equally disapproved by the zealots of both parties, by the Roman pontiff, and the Caliph of Bagdad. It was stipulated that Jerusalem and the holy sepulchre should be open, without tribute or vexation, to the pilgrimage of the Latin Christians; that after the demolition of Ascalon they should inclusively possess the sea-coast from Jaffa to Tyre; that the Count of Tripoli and the Prince of Antioch should be compromised in the truce; and that, during three years and three months, all hostilities should cease. The principal chiefs of the two armies swore to the observance of the treaty, but the monarchs were satisfied with giving their word and their right hand; and the royal majesty was excused from an oath, which always implies some suspicion of falsehood and dishonour. Richard embarked for Europe to seek a long captivity and a premature grave; and the space of a few months (A.D. 1193,