shade! Open the window, I say if ye wudna' this wild beast in human shape, not the least hae an inquest held on my remains before cock craw! MAJOR-A plague take you and your remains! There! you have now got the night breeze, charged with fever, ague, and lumbago from the swamp, sweeping through the house like a flinty landlord's execution! If crutches and quinine be not the order of the day with me to-morrow, may the name of Culpepper Crabtree be blotted out from the roll call of creation! LAIRD.-Wæsoch for the puir body! I say Mrs. Grundy, send in a couple o' blankets and a weel aired Kilmarnock night cowl for our auld friend here! MAJOR.-Confound your impudence! I have a good mind— DOCTOR.-Peace, darlings! Have you forgotten what Dr. Watts says: "Children you should never let MAJOR.-I have not heard these lines since as interesting are those of the tamed tigers he kept on the divan beside him, and which frequently amused themselves in devouring his Nubian slaves. His daughter lived upon the west side of the river in her palace, and it was her common amusement to walk through the streets of Cairo, and if she she would send her eunuch to bid him follow her. saw a young Frank who attracted her attention, Were he unfortunate enough to do this, he never returned from her house. One young Frenchman, upon whom she thus cast her eyes, was thus bidden by a eunuch, and not daring to disobey the summons from such a powerful person, took the precaution of arming himself with pistols. After passing the night in her harem, in the morning she parted with him most affectionately, and giving him presents to disguise her intentions, as she had doubtless done frequently to her previous lovers. He left the harem and two of the eunuchs accompanied him to the top of some stairs, which he perceived led rather mysteriously down a dark passage. Suspecting foul play, and observing both of the eunuchs had their hands on their sword-hilts, he pulled out both pistols, and and on arriving about half way down, he perceived ordered them to lead the way. This they did, a sort of landing-place, or trap-door, which was raised, and below ran the river. Here the eunuchs LAIRD.-Oil upon the troubled waters o' paused, and drew their swords; but he cocked your cat-witted moral Atlantic! After that his pistols, and placing one to the ear of each, dry morsel o' metaphysics it behoves me to re-ordered them to proceed. Upon reaching the plenish my horn! Here's reformation to us a'! bottom, he leaped from the steps, while they ran MAJOR.-Speak for yourself, sir! In back to get assistance. He was unable to cross your case the proverb emphatically holds good, that the river, and, as it was scarce day-light, succeeded in getting into the outskirts, and concealed himcharity begins at home! about a mile up the river. He heard the voices self in the straw in an old hut of a ruined village of several of the black eunuchs, who had traced him through the villages by the barking dogs, but remained quiet till night, when, proceeding further up the river, he crossed there in a boat; and going to the Mokaattam mountains, arrived at Cairo on the other side next day, having not dared to enter a village for food. He went immediately to the French Consul, and told his story; but what would his protection have been to one who had the character and secret of the daughter of Defterdar Bey in his hands? and any "dog of a the advice of the Consul, he left Cairo, and went Christian" would be easily disposed of. So, upon to Alexandria, where he took passage for France. The disappearance of many young and handsome Franks, more adventurous than prudent, was thus accounted for; and this was the last instance known of one who had been in danger of being sacrificed to gratify the passion and save the reputation of this Egyptian "Lucrezia Borgia.” Franks in Egypt were not protected as now, and the despotic and ferocious will of the daughters and sisters of the Beys and Pachas, particularly under the Mamelooks, caused many a parallel circumstance. DOCTOR.-A truce to this sharp shooting! Permit me to quench the smouldering fires of your wrath with a libation from the waters of a venerable river! Here is an exceedingly readable book published by Phinney & Co., of Buffalo, entitled "Journal of a Voyage up the Nile!" which, though not published yesterday, deserves honourable mention in our conclave. LAIRD.-I canna' thole the idea o' journals, in sic weather as this! The very name puts me in mind o' a muckle ruled book, stored wi records o' candles, green tea, and treacle, vended on credit! Your tourists now a' days, hae as many moral reflections upon the things they see, as the crooked slave Æsop tacked to the tails o' his fables! DOCTOR.-You will find few such impertinences (as Cervantes would have said), in the volume which I hold in my hand. The writer tells what he saw, and leaves the moralizing to the reader! LAIRD. He must be a sensible lad! Let's hae a sample o' his wares. DOCTOR.-Here is an adventure in Cairo, equal, in its way, to some of the "high jinks" MAJOR. You surely do not mean Dr. to we read of in the Arabian Nights Entertain-endorse all the nursery stories that have been ments. so long current with the opera going public, Defterdar Bey; that pious member of the respecting Lucrezia Borgia? Geographical Society of Paris, and his daughter. DOCTOR.-By no means, the words are not Among the many stories told of the ferocity of mine. I know as well as you do that the Lucrezia Borgia of history, if we may credit contemporaneous authors, is a very different person from the monster Victor Hugo has made her. She is represented by them to have been an amiable and accomplished princess, a lover of poetry, a munificent patron of the arts, and to have been distinguished for piety and charity. LAIRD. And what in the name o' a' that's wonderful has made folk raise sic like evil stories against the guid woman. MAJOR. She had the misfortune of being sister to the infamous Cesar Borgia, and to that may be attributed all the horrible charges brought against her. It has been fully proved that she was no party to the assassination of her husband Alfonso Bisceglia, nor to any of her brother's atrocious acts. Her last husband, Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara, was wont to consult her in the most important affairs of state, and never had cause to regret the confidence he reposed in her. The horrible and appalling incidents to be found in Victor Hugo have been most unpardonably introduced for effect, and Donizetti, in his opera, has of course availed himself of these effects to harrow up our very nerves with the fearful scenes he has put on the stage. LAIRD.—Weel, weel, taking for granted that a' you say is correct, at any rate I am safe in calling this other jezebel a brazen-faced, bluidthirsty randy! A tar barrel and a cord o' dry pine would hae been weel bestowed upon her! The Frenchman, I would wager a groat, was mair select in his company ever after! DOCTOR.-I see, Major, you have been glancing over Miss Catherine Sinclair's new novel of "Modern Flirtations;" pray what is your verdict touching its merits? MAJOR-I would strongly advise you to procure a copy. In an ecconomical point of view, it would form a most desirable addition to the stock of a thrifty, small annuitant like yourself. DOCTOR.--Pray expound! I never was an adept at solving riddles! MAJOR.-There is no riddle in the matter. The owner of the work need never invest a copper in the purchase of opium. If ten pages of Miss Sinclair's production does not send him into the land of Nod in as many minutes, never call me conjurer! DOCTOR.-Indeed! Some of the newspapers speak highly of the affair! MAJOR.-Most verdant of Medicos! Have you reached the years of discretion, and yet gravely quote the opinion of any of the "WE" tribe upon the merits or demerits of a new publication? Why, you will be professing your belief some of these fine days in the Philosopher's stone, or the authenticity of the Poems of Ossian ! DOCTOR.-As a general rule, I agree in the estimate which you take of the critical pretensions of the fourth estate, but there is no DOCTOR. But to return to "Modern Flirtations," is the production really as mouldy as you describe it? MAJOR.-Right sorry would I be to exaggerate faults, or "set down aught in malice" when a lady is concerned; but certes Catherine is enough to convert a Chesterfield into a bruin! Her narrative runs along with all the dull and dogged deliberation of a stream of muddy ink, emerging from a bottle, the mouth of which is incrusted with some liquid glue! A gouty fly would progress with as much celerity through a pot of the last mentioned commodity, as the reader does through this pestilently yawn-provoking collection of common place! I LAIRD--Oh, but the body's bitter to-night! wonder if he fell in wi a beetle in his porridge this morning? If sae, he is muckle to be pitied, and the lassie Sinclair into the bargain! DOCTOR.-Parce, Laird! LAIRD.-Nae mair Parsee than yoursell; honest man! Na, na! The sun furnishes sma' temptation for ony ane to worship his bleezing face in sic weather, let alane a douce ruling elder like your humble servant! MAJOR.-Shut up, and be hanged to you! If I had the joint stool of your countrywoman Janet Geddes, conveniently at hand, I would try whether it or your skull possessed the greater powers of resistance! Surely he LAIRD.-The man's in a creel! has popped the question to Mrs. Grundy, and got a begunk! DOCTOR.-I really begin to fear, Crabtree, that I must feel your pulse, and prescribe a course of sedatives! The uncalled for energy which, more than once you have exhibited tonight, makes me suspect that there is a screw loose somewhere about your system. MAJOR.-Pardon amico mio, and Laird, I crave you to forget and forgive! The truth is that I was put out of sorts this forenoon, and that has made me a trifle more fractious than I ought to have been. DOCTOR.-Where did the shoe pinch, an' it be a fair question? MAJOR. You know I came from Hamilton this morning per steamer. Well, hardly had the craft become stationary at the wharf, than "a band of fierce barbarians" in the shape of waiters, carters, cabmen, thieves and pickpockets, boarded her decks, and commenced a concert of shouting enough to drive a Stentor frantic. The squalid ruffians almost seized their helpless victims-the passengers to wit, by the throats, and I verily believe, that but MAJOR. My dear fellow you are confirming for the pregnant use which I made of my the impression which I had formed of the black thorn staff, I would have been carried, work. The details of the loves of such a pair body and soul, into one of the locomotive must of necessity be as insipid as a goblet of arks, which blockaded the pathway. One sugar and water to a bon vivant of the olden abominable Milesian, a lineal descendent, I'll school, like our mess mate Bonniebraes! be sworn, of the founder of the Rapparees, trampled with his iron-shod hoof upon my grouty toe, and caused me to yell forth something more akin, I fear to an anathama than a benedicite! LAIRD.-Hech sirs! Sma' wonder that ye hae been a thocht fractious, after sic a visitation! MAJOR -But that is not all. When I reached the wharf I had to thread my way with fear and trembling through a perfect wilderness of vehicles of every description, dreading at every moment that I would be visited with the fate of a pilguim who has a partiality to be pulverized by the car of Juggernaut! Can you now blame me for being not in the most genial of humours? DOCTOR.-Not I, for one! Why Timon of Athens could not plead such a valid excuse for misanthropy as you have advanced! DOCTOR.--Hear me to aclose. Circumstances, simple and rational enough in themselves, combine to give Agatha's husband the appearance of a sordid, selfish, exacting tyrant, who, without ruth or pity, outrages at every turn the feelings of his gentle help-mate. Some of the situations thus produced have all the thrilling vigour of the best of our old English dramatists. MAJOR.-I must read the affair of which you speak so highly. Can you favor us with a specimen of the manner in which the fair writer handles her tools, without revealing the secrets of the plot? DOCTOR.-Here is Agatha's first visit to an invalid sister-in-law: At first, Agatha thought the room was empty, until, lying on a sofa-though so muffled in draperies as nearly to disguise all form-she saw what seemed the figure of a child. But coming nearer, the face was no child's face. It was that of a woman, already arrived at middle age. Many wrinkles seamed it; and the hair surrounding it in soft, close bands, was quite grey. The only thing notable about the countenance was a re LAIRD.-Oh I wish that I were only the Grand Turk for half a day! I would bring the Corporation to book in double quicktime, for the shameless carelessness they show in the matter! In the name o' wonder what come o' a' the taxes, when the powers that bemarkable serenity, in which youth might have canna afford to pay a couple o' stout officials to protect the travelling public, by pitching their tormentors into the lake! DOCTOR.-You were speaking, Major, of a dull novel; I have just finished the perusal of one of a very different description. I allude to Agatha's husband. LAIRD.-Who is it written by? DOCTOR.-By the authoress of "the Ogilvies," and "the Head of the Family," two fictions which, in my humble opinion, rank second to few we have been favoured with since the Waverly era. conveyed that painful expression of premature age often seen in similar cases, but which now in age make it look young. It was as if time and worldly sorrow had alike forgotten this sad victim of Nature's unkindness-had passed by and left her to keep something of the child's paradise about her still. This face, and the small, thin, infantine-looking hands, crossed on the silk coverlet, were all that was visible. Agatha wondered she had so shrunk from the simple mystery now revealed. Nathanael led her to the sofa, and placed her where Elizabeth could see her easily without turning round. "Here is my wife! Is she like what you expected, sister?" MAJOR.-I would be half inclined to predicate from the title, that the production belongs The head was half raised, but with difficulty; to the namby pamby school. It is sugges- and Agatha met the cheerful, smiling, loving eyes tive of a series of domestic sketches decently of her whom people call "poor Elizabeth." Such dull as the moralizations of Mrs. Ellis, or the thorough content, such admiring pleasure as that respectable twaddle of mother Hoffland! look testified! It took away all the painful conDOCTOR.-Tut, tut man,-you are a thou-straint which most people experience on first sand miles out of your reckoning in this instance! Agatha's husband is replete with nerve and sinew, and exhibits a knowledge of the human female heart which would have done no discredit to Massinger or Joanna Baillie. LAIRD.-What kind of a lad is the guidman o' Agatha? DOCTOR.-A person in every respect worthy of the excellent wife to whom he is united, who fully appreciates her numerous good qualities, and whose utmost ambition is to contribute, to her happiness. coming into the presence of those whom Heaven has afflicted thus; and made Agatha feel that in putting such an angelic spirit into that poor distorted body, Heaven had not dealt hardly even with Elizabeth Harper. "She is just like what I thought," said a voice, well. Come here and kiss me, my dear new thin, but not unmusical. "You described her sister." Agatha knelt down and obeyed, with her whole heart in the embrace. Of all the greetings in the family, none had been like this. And not the least of its sweetness was that her husband seemed so pleased therewith, looking more like himself than he had done since they entered his father's doors. MAJOR.-I like the twang of that passage; let us have another. DOCTOR.-The husband, who is about to leave his wife for a season, is standing at her bed side. You will be able to account for his demeanour and emotions from the hint which I have before given you. And still she was sleeping-sleeping at the very crisis of her fate. Her face was composed and sweet, though her hands were still clenched, and one of them almost buried in her loose hair. Her husband stood and looked at her, trying long to keep himself firm and self-restrained, as though she were aware of his presence. But at last the holy helplessness of sleep subdued him. From standing upright he sank gradually down down-till he was crouching on his knees. Shudder came over him-sigh after sigh rose up and was smothered again in his breast. At last even the strong man's strength gave way, and there fell a heavy, silent, burning rain. And all the while the wife slept, and never knew how he loved her! After a while the fiery dews ceased. Nathanael opened his eyes and tried to look once more calmly on his wife. She stirred a little in her sleep, and began to smile-a very soft, meek, innocent smile, that softened her proud lips into infantine sweetness. She was again Agatha, the merry Agatha, as she had been when he first saw her, before he wooed her, and shook her roughly from her girlish calm into all the struggles of life. He could have cursed himself-and yet-yet he loved her! Kneeling, he stretched his arm over her neck. Another moment and he would have yielded to the frantic impulse, and snatched her to his heart one-just one embrace-heedless of her waking. But how would she wake? only to hate and reproach him. He had better leave her thus, and carry away in his remembrance that picture of peace which blotted out all her bitter words, all her cruel want of love-made him forget everything except that she had been the wife of his bosom and his first love. He drew back his arm, gradually and noiselessly. He did not attempt to kiss her, not even her hand, lest he should disturb her; but kneeling, laid his head on the pillow by hers, and pressed his lips to her hair. "I am glad she sleeps-yes, very glad! She is quite content now, she will be quite happy when I am gone. God love thee and take care of thee-my darling-my Agatha. With this sigh on his heart, though his lips scarcely stirred, he kissed her hair once again, rose up, and went softly away. As he departed, the first sunbeam came in and danced upon the bed, showing Agatha fast sleeping still. She never woke until it had been broad day for a long time, and the sun creeping over her pillow struck her eyes. Then she started up with a loud cry-she had been dreaming. Tears were wet upon her cheek. She called wildly for her husband. It was too late. He had been gone at least three hours. LAIRD.-Rax me the book Doctor, I'll tak it oot to Girzy, and ye can get another copy frae Maclear. DOCTOR.-If you were not such a red hot and unmitigated Jacobite,oh Crabtree! I would commend to your perusual this slim greengarmented volume. MAJOR.-You can at least introduce your friend. DOCTOR.- "Notabilities in France and England," by Philarete Charles, Professor of the Paris Institute. It is a translation from French, and is issued by Putnam & Co. MAJOR.-Does the Professor deal much in democratic politics, that you mention him so gingerly to me? DOCTOR.-Far from it. He is deeply tinged, it is true, with what you would term the virus of liberalism, but still he is rather a describer than a theorizer. He professes to be an admirer of contemporary talents, whilst at the same time he "follows no school, bows before no idol." LAIRD. Let the Professor say a word for himself! A man can aye best tell his ain story. DOCTOR.-There is something very striking in the following sketch of AMAR, THE SWEDENBERGEAN. When the allies entered Paris, and the return of the Bourbons was announced as probable, a great panic seized those families who had cause for fear, or thought they had. My father and I had frequent intercourse with some of his ancient colleagues. It was at that time I became intimately acquainted with him who had been styled the ferocious Amar, and he was to me a subject of curious study. There could be nothing more pleasant or courteous than this so-called tiger; his ancient habits, as king's treasurer and man of the world, were clearly visible in his language and manuers. He spoke low; a large diamond ring which he wore, and which was sometimes, I thought not unwittingly displayed, betrayed the financier; the finest and whitest of linen, with ruffles and bosoms embroidered and plaited in the handsomest style, with his other vestments of clear and modest shades but not mournful, were all in keeping. At first sight, all who recollected or had studied the eighteenth century would have taken him for an economist of the sect de Quesnay. Nevertheless, his large pale face, his fair hair becoming grey, his head inclined, which seemed hesitating between reverie and calculation, his rayless blue eyes, which seemed to view nothing exterior, but gazed inwardly, impressed one with solemnity and almost with fear. Here was evinced an intellect more profound but less complete than that of Vadier. The last was possessed of an intellect keen and cutting, of which you soon took the gauge; but you knew not what force and depth were concealed beneath the calm, gentle, and meditative exterior cf Amar. Some expressions of his which seemed mysterious, that were engraved on my memory in childhood, I now comprehend. I have always remarked that the dwelling of a man has a peculiar analogy with his dispositions and tendencies. One must be a mystic or philosopher to love an extended horizon, overlooking vineyards and groves, meadows and gardens; such aspects of nature have a peculiar charm for meditative spirits, whom great cities with their eternal bustle weary and oppress. In the third story of a house in la rue Cassette, the ancient treasurer of the king, become republican, had selected a retreat, which offered a perspective of this description. The greatest simplicity and the most perfect order prevailed within; I recollect the windows of his study opened upon one of the most beautiful views in Paris, When a child, I was frequently sent to his house, and the sweetmeats and cakes with which he treated me could not fail to render these errands agreeable. The impression he made on me was that of a timid recluse, who had, contrary to his tastes, left the region of abstractions, and descended into the world of realities. He manifested his emotions only by a slight and sudden blush, and a certain dilation of the pupils of the eye. This great calm, sad and gentle, could not exist with many ideas; surely such as were concealed under such an envelope should be profound and ineffaceable. Shortly after the entrée of the allies into Paris, I went to see him, and found him more agitated than was usual with him; he was at the same time more dressed. He was arrayed in a bright chocolate suit, with a white dimity vest, which shone in the sun. It was a suit that he wore in his youth. The window of his study was open, and a ray of light fell upon an ebony representation of Christ. Upon the bureau, opposite the two little windows, an enormous volume was opened. As to the dweller in the cabinet, or rather cell, I met him, his head bent forward a little, his arms crossed behind, pacing the room with quick steps; when I entered he looked at me with a peculiar smile, which seemed expressive of commiseration for my youth. Leaning upon my shoulders with his two heavy hands, his rose-tinted nails as carefully cut as those of a lady, he looked at me fixedly, as a magnetizer contemplates his subject. "Poor little one!" cried he. "Poor soul!" Then with a mysterious air he closed the door, and bolted it. I felt an undefined alarm in presence of this singular person; it was not his reputation that awed me, it was he himself. "Come along, child," said he; "seat yourself by this bureau, and read." I obeyed him. The large volume of which I have spoken was before me, bound in black, ornamented with marks of all colours. This precious book, much read, and filled with notes, was no other than the "New Jerusalem" of Swedenborg, the most mystic of all mystical books, as is well known. At the mo ment when I began reading chapter fourth, he, continuing his walk, stopped before me, and laying his hand extended over the page, which was concealed, he exclaimed, "This is the great book, young man; this is the teacher. The present generation comprehend it not. Happy our children if they will hearken. It is this which has directed my life; it is the only interpreter of the Christian mysteries; it is the grand revolutionizer." Thus the ferocious Amar was a Swedenborgian mystic; this was the primum mobile and secret source of all his conduct. He willed, as Robespierre and Clootz, to regenerate humanity in spite of herself. During half an hour, concealed in the depths of a large embroidered easy-chair, which would have figured in the saloon of the treasurer of the king at Angers, he listened, smiling, and with his eyes cast upwards, to my reading of the third heaven, and their life, such as Swedenborg has revealed it upon his faith as an eyewitness. "Ah!" cried he at length, rising with a quick and impetuous movement, not common in him, 64 see what men would have become if we had persevered to the end; if we had dared! But," added he, lowering his tone, and speaking with a cold conviction that made me tremble, "we have not done enough; and I ask pardon of God." He wept. LAIRD.-Maist powerfu' language yon, but there is something e'en now in my wame that speaks to me still mair forcibly, and whispers saftly to me that supper maun surely be ready. DOCTOR.-Heard ever man the like! Oh, you Goth, you deserve to be fed on cold kale made of nettle tops for a month,-however, let's to work, that the Laird may have his supper. Your Facts, most worthy agriculturist. LAIRD.-Faith, I have got a screed of them, you're sic a deceiving chiel that I have tried to make up for the scant room you gave me last time. (Reads.) A FEW HINTS ON FARMERS' HOUSES. It is a little strange that in this State not one a dozen ornamental trees in it; and in the greater farmer's yard in five hundred has more than half number there are no trees at all. The farmer ventures upon the outlay of a few dollars in the purchase of well-selected ornamental trees, and evergreens especially, is quite sure to find that at least every third passer points at them as something very select-something, though very pretty, not exactly appropriate in the demesne of the man who gets his living by growing wheat or wool, or by making butter. Why not? Only because the thing hasn't its precedents among commen farmers. Even Johnny Slattern and Bill Carenought, untenanted as their minds are with anything of a Georgic nature, wish that some of those pretty trees at whose beauties they give a passing look in their way through High Street or Suburban Road on their way to market, were their own. But these men want the example of their own class. There are their neighbors Broadbrim and Loanmoney whose farms are the pink of neatness-their fields without a thistle or other noxious weed; their fences of the best; their wheat well drilled; their orchards trim and productive; their houses commodious enough; and, maybe, each keeps his carriage. They are the men to whom the neighboring farmers look for examples. Farmer Broadbrim thought, when he laid out his door-yard, that he had got it about right. Before he built, and when he lived in the log house, the front fence was a rail fence, and the door-yard was the whole farm that the house and barn didn't cover. So, when the new house I came to be built, in order to a greater certainty of |