Canton de Vaud, so lovely, so fair, How oft 'midst your vineyards my young foot ran; Kind strangers, I fain would pursue your way- With you in your tour over hill and champagne ; From sweet Marie and pretty Lausanne. Departing by the morning steamer from Thun, we were in a few minutes on the lake-a sheet of water about half the dimensions of that of Lucerne, and much more regular in outline. From one extremity to the other, it may measure about twelve miles. The shores are lofty, and in some places precipitous, overhung by huge piles of hills, partially wooded, and here and there dotted with chalets, or rude mountain cots. With the exception of one or two small villages, the scenery is all still nature, and, on the whole, is neither picturesque nor interesting. But we were now be coming fastidious. At the farther extremity of the lake, the passengers were disembarked, and immediately commenced a scramble for hackney-caleshes, voitures, and chars the latter what we should call four-wheel gigs, with folding-up hood, drawn by one horse, and very sorry affairs. Some were going to explore a waterfall ten miles off, and be back in time to return with the boat; some were bound for the Oberland; some for Brienz. Not one was going to stay and see what could be seen in the very interesting spot of ground on which we were now landed, except ourselves. But it is always so with the English tourists. During our whole journey we never saw any one looking contentedly at what happened to be at the time before him-every body was hurrying forward to see something somewhere; and if it was at the top of a hill, or across a precipice, where there was some chance of personal danger, so much the better. The glory of saying they had seen so and so, appeared in most instances the prevailing object of ambition. That part of Switzerland in which we had now arrived, is a little secluded world in itself. A plain of about three miles in length, and from a quarter to half a mile in breadth, is bounded on both sides by lofty rugged hills, above which, on the south, towers the sublime summit of the Jungfrau; while at one extremity is the Lake of Thun, and at the other the Lake of Brienz. Originally, I daresay, these sheets of water had been one, but soil from the mountains has formed an alluvial vale, and narrowed the watercourse to the neck of river, the Aar, which is now the only bond of union between the two lakes. The vale, sunk among lofty heights, flourishes a green paradise in the wilderness. It is richly clothed with verdure, ornamented with forest and fruit trees, and the seat of a numerous population, composed of Swiss and foreigners, the latter being principally English, who have made the discovery that the situation is at once cheap, agreeable, and salubrious. There are two villages. The first we come to is Unterseen, a surprisingly old-fashioned place, situated on the Aar, at the distance of a mile from the hamlet at which we were landed. that Interlaken has become the home of self-expa- The shop-system of Interlaken may be said to be situation is useless. I confess I was interested in the manufactures of Interlaken, and took much more pleasure in learning something of them than I should have been with the view of a waterfall. The articles are not made here only, but in other parts of the country, and chiefly by persons in the intervals of labour in the fields, and, consequently, for the most part during winter. It is a universally recognised principle in Switzerland never to be idle, if any thing can be done, or unless there is some decided festive sport to attend. Every district has some kind of article which it is the hobby of the people to make. I believe they do not try their hand on wooden clocks, these being the staple of the hills of the Black Forest, in the grand dukedom of Baden-a district, however, which is territorially adjacent to Switzerland, and from which ship-loads of these articles are exported annually to England and America. At the present moment, the cottages of Scotland are supplied with clocks from this quarter, through an extensive ramification of agents and venders. Complaints have sometimes been heard from hand-in-pocket out-of-theway towns, that they are languishing for want of some species of manufactures. Here is one I can see no reason why they should not take up. An Englishman should surely be as able to make a clock as a German, or a toy as well as a Swiss. The Swiss toys range from a very humble to a high order, from an article of the value of a penny to that of a pound-the better class of objects being beautifully carved vases, baskets, and other things of a fanciful kind, well known to persons of taste. Thun. Tourists who are desirous of exploring the country beyond have now an opportunity of doing so by a small steamer, which daily navigates the lake from Interlaken. Our return to Thun offered nothing worth mentioning; and may add, that neither did our journey to Berne, our visit to which will form the subject of next article. VULGAR HALLUCINATIONS. THE MOCK KING OF MUNSTER. As happens in the case of all great changes affecting the social framework, the unsettlement of the longestablished form of clerical polity in Europe during the sixteenth century was attended with popular commotions equally extensive in their amount and destructive in their effects. Such consequences are, indeed, more peculiarly inseparable from revolutions in the religious world. Except in extreme cases, secular authority may be transferred from one body to another without the reins of governmental discipline being relaxed in any great degree; but it is not so as respects clerical affairs. When the European princes judged it right, at the era of the Reformation, to leave their subjects free to quit the pale of the old church, they were also left free, upon the same principles, to select for themselves a new spiritual path. Wild were the delusions and appalling the errors which resulted, in that comparatively barbarous age, from this unfortunate but unavoidable necessity. Madmen, fanatics, and impostors, with persons in whom, perhaps, all three peculiarities were mixed up, had here an ample field for their operations, and they left not the opportunity unused. Intending to notice popular hallucinations of various kinds in succession, we conceive that we may, without quitting our path, give some account here of one extraordinary instance of the kind springing from the source described. The modern sect of Anabaptists use, in consequence of their adoption of a peculiar custom, a denomination which was made odious in Germany in the sixteenth century by a set of impostors and fanatics of the most depraved description. In 1533, there came to Munster, in Westphalia, a Dutchman named John Bock holt, a tailor by profession, and a native of Leyden. He was a ringleader of a fanatical party in his own country; and, with the aid of a John Matthison, one Gerhard, and some others, began to spread his mischievous principles in Munster. The time was, unhappily, but too favourable for such an attempt in Germany, where the ancient religious customs of the people were torn up by the roots, leaving them impressed with vague notions of an approaching new era, and ready to listen to the wildest speculations on the subject. This was fully shown in 1525, twenty years before this period, when a fanatic named Munzer had the art to raise a numerous army of Suabian, Franconian, and Saxon peasants, and took the field with the intention of overturning all governments and laws, under the pretence that the world was now to be governed by the Founder of Christianity in person. The Saxon Elector, and other princes, raised an army, however, and routed the insurgents. Immense num Unterseen consists entirely of wooden houses, tho- Ascending by a winding path the picturesque hill roughly Swiss in shape-great overhanging roofs, which bounds the vale of Interlaken on the east, and outside stairs and galleries, casement windows, and leading towards the Lake of Brienz, we had an opportuall ornamented with long inscriptions of a consider-nity of enjoying a very delightful walk and seeing the able age. On one house we observed the date 1614, Swiss cottage manufacture in active progress. As we and a beam over the gateway at the entrance to had remarked a hundred times before, many of the the village was marked 1654. The leading street, at houses were intolerably dirty, and a small village, which the centre of which is the open market-place, is mean we attained at the nearest point of the lake, was, with-bers were slain in battle and executed. John Bockand tortuous, without the slightest vestige of modern out exception, the most odious in this respect we ever holt soon gathered a party in Munster, whom he improvement or taste; while the general aspect of beheld. But, at the same time, the spectacle of industry persuaded that a new spiritual kingdom was to be affairs, though not indicating positive poverty, or the was equally extreme. Before almost every door was a established, and that Munster was to be its capital, squalor one sees in the large Scotch towns, is slovenly, woman, brown and skinny, working as if for a wager under the title of the New Jerusalem, whence the and I should scarcely think wholesome. The antique at skutching hemp, by means of a wooden apparatus novel doctrines were to be disseminated over the houses are hives of population from the ground to which made a loud clacking noise; the place being earth. This idea was flattering to the mob, and the the garret, and I can only say that those who imagine seemingly in the possession of a set of female furies, Leyden tailor gained continual accessions of adherents. that living in cellars is only found in England, have every one of which would have answered to act the As he went on, even the learned, including some never seen the dingy dens of Unterseen. As dirt is part of a witch in Macbeth without painting or dress- monks, joined his sect, until at length he found himnot usually put into pictures, the place, I have no ing for the character. Within doors, industry of self powerful enough to venture on his great project. doubt, with its romantic environs, will look extremely another sort was exercised by children and old people. His followers rose suddenly in arms, attacked and beautiful and picturesque-on paper. Some were carving fancy objects, and in one house deposed the magistrates, and became masters of the about a dozen children were engaged in making small city. Immediately afterwards, John of Leyden was toys, such as horses, sheep, and dogs, some cutting proclaimed king of the New Jerusalem. the pieces of wood, and others painting them. One little fellow was very seriously engaged in putting leaves of green paper on stumps to form trees; and another was painting a row of toy soldiers three inches high. This we found was a place of manufacture for the foreign market. The children of an insignificant Swiss village were working at something like a penny a-day, to furnish means for amusement to the more fortunate children of England and other countries. The juveniles of younger growth, who were not yet in harness in the workshops, also were not idle. A number seemed to be loitering out of doors on the outlook for strangers; and on our making our appearance, we were beset by offers of egg-shells decorated with the pith of rushes, and other trifles. The practice, as may be supposed, is little else than a disguised beggary, but the disguise at least assumes the semblance of virtue, and is less reprehensible than positive alms-seeking. From Unterseen to Interlaken, the road is almost a continuous avenue, lined by tall bushy trees, here and there varied with an ornamental villa or boardinghouse; and at length we have such a mixture of trees and houses as to make it difficult to say where the village begins or ends. The greater part of this rural retreat appears to consist of houses of a superior order, devoted either to casual lodgers or stranger residents of longer standing; and we can testify to the village numbering among its larger establishments an inn of immense size, and possessing all the qualifications that any body could desire. The ladies were charmed with Interlaken. Never was there such a pretty place. It was like a scene in a theatre. Neat pavilions filled with Swiss toys exhibited their attractions under great spreading trees; long shady walks, with seats, invited the visitant to loiter away the lazy hours, and from over the bounding enclosures came the perfume of flowers and orchards. The adjacent hills-the Silver Horn, the Monk, Mount Eiger, and, above all, the brilliant white Jungfrau piercing the blue firmament-contribute at once shelter and picturesque beauty to the scene. With these attractions, and, as is said, cheapness of living, it is not surprising But I must bring my paper to a conclusion. We visited the shores of the Lake of Brienz, which appeared to be much more savage and desolate than those of We have said nothing of the doctrines or personal doings of the man who thus got the sway of a great city, containing many thousands of people. His extravagances are almost incredible. He married eleven wives, to show his approbation of the polygamy which prevailed in the times of other kings of Jerusalem; and to assimilate himself to a particular king of the Hebrews, he ran or madly danced, without apparel, through the streets of Munster. Other most offensive and pernicious acts were daily committed by this mock-monarch, whom it is too much charity to set down as insane. He of course saw visions, and dreamt dreams in abundance. In one dream it was communicated to him, he said, that the cities of Amsterdam, Deventer, and Wesel, were given to him as his own. He accordingly sent disciples or bishops thither, to spread his new kingdom. In the state of the public mind at the period, these pseudo-embassies were not, as they appear now, ridiculous. The Amsterdam envoy gathered so many proselytes that he attempted to seize on the city. He marched his followers to the townhouse on a given day, with drums beating and colours flying. Having seized on the house, he fixed his head-quarters there; but the burghers rose, and with some regular troops surrounded the fanatics, the whole of whom were put to death in a severe manner, in order to intimidate others of the class. It may well be imagined that the city of Munster was in a dreadful condition under John of Leyden, it being a doctrine of the sect that all things should be in common among the faithful; and they also taught that civil magistrates were utterly useless. Hence enormous crimes, as well as ridiculous follies, were practised continually-real enthusiasm of belief adding to the evil rather than diminishing it. The following incident is the only one descriptive of the insane and scandalous practices of the sect which we shall venture to record a specimen is enough. Twelve of them met, five being women, in a private house. One of the men, a tailor by trade, having prayed for four hours in a sort of trance, then took off his garments, and throwing them into the flames, commanded the rest to do the same. All did so; and the whole subsequently went out to the streets, which they paraded, crying "Woe ! woe! woe to Babylon!" and the like. Being seized and taken before a magistrate, they refused to dress themselves, saying, "We are the naked truth!" Were it not for the sequel, we might simply feel disgust at this, as the doing, Dossibly, of shameless profligates. But when these very persons, instead of being placed in lunatic asylums, were taken to the scaffold, they sung and danced for joy, and died with all the marks of sincere religious enthusiasm. John of Leyden did not long enjoy the throne of Munster. Its rightful sovereign and bishop, Count Waldeck, aided by other petty princes of Germany, assembled an army, and marched against the city. The fanatics shut its gates, and resisted; nor was it until after an obstinate siege that the occupants were overcome. The mock monarch was taken, and suffered a cruel death, with great numbers of his wrongheaded associates. The popular hallucination, however, did not end here. The severe laws which were enacted after the deaths of Munzer and Bockholt, in order to check the spread of their principles, were of no preventive value, perhaps the reverse. We are told by Mosheim, that immediately after the taking of Munster, "the innocent and the guilty were often involved in the same terrible fate, and prodigious numbers were devoted to death in the most dreadful forms." There is proof, too, as in the single case detailed, that even where great profligacy characterised their peculiar course of conduct, there was often mixed up with it such an amount of sincerity, as ought to make us think of them with pity as beings labouring under a strange delusion, rather than blame them as persons erring under the common impulses leading to vice. "In almost all the countries of Europe, an unspeakable number of these wretches preferred death, in its worst forms, to a retractation of their errors. Neither the view of the flames kindled to consume them, nor the ignominy of the gibbet, nor the terrors of the sword, could shake their invincible but ill-placed constancy, or induce them to abandon tenets that appeared dearer to them than life and all its enjoyments." SMALL COTTAGE FARMS. THE Occupiers of a very few acres of land, whether as owners or renters, although by no means an insignificant class of the community, either as regards numbers or the position they occupy, or ought to occupy, in society, have hitherto received little attention at the hands of writers on rural economy. How they may have been affected by this neglect, we do not intend at present to inquire. Sufficient be it for us, if we can suggest any means by which the condition of this class can be improved. There are few counties in the United Kingdom in which cottage farmers are not found, in larger or smaller numbers, particularly in Ireland; and the manner in which they can most advantageously better their circumstances, is the object of our present observations. It unfortunately happens that this class of agriculturists, whether proprietors or renters, proceed on no proper principle of management, and are in reality little better off than the peasantry by whom they are surrounded. The grand error consists in a rigid adherence to old prejudices, and these it ought to be always a matter of importance to examine and abandon, if opposed to the light of science and practical economy. of the subsoil must be stirred in the operation of We will now proceed to show what may be eftrenching. At the time this is being performed, all fected by first trenching the ground after the manlarge stones should be removed, in order that the ner already explained, and afterwards by introducing crops which shall be cultivated in the ground may such vegetable products as are best calculated to thrive be free from all such obstructions. In this process, on the particular quality of soil under cultivation, however, care must be taken, where there is no great and also to yield the largest supply of nutritious depth of natural soil, not to bury that of the best food. If, in a family of five or six persons, there quality beneath the inferior kinds or the subsoil; is no one capable of assisting the husband in the and it is by no means a difficult matter, during this operation of trenching, it would require several years operation, to keep the best quality of soil nearest the to elapse before the whole of the four acres could surface. By a complete loosening and mixing in this be thoroughly trenched; but an active and indusway, exceedingly poor soils may be made to yield trious man would find little difficulty in bringing better crops than those of a very good quality under half an acre annually into an improved state; for as the ordinary mode of cultivation; and what tends to 80 rods make the half acre, and there being 313 workmake trenching a matter still more deserving of adop-ing days in the year, to accomplish this it would require tion is, that, through a long course of years, there little more than a quarter of a rod to be trenched is no necessity for disturbing the ground below the daily, whereas a moderate day's work, even where the depth that the spade or the plough commonly pene- soil is stony and difficult to trench, would considerably trates in ordinary culture. exceed a rod. But where there is a boy or two to assist, an acre might, with perfect ease, be brought into an improved state yearly. COW. It is after this manner that the Flemings have succeeded in bringing so much barren and waste ground, not simply into a cultivated state, but actually into a Several experiments have been made in order to condition of great productiveness. The plan they ascertain the quantity of produce in roots, artificial adopt is this :-A ditch or trench, two or three feet grasses, &c., that an acre of ground, under this sort of wide, is dug with a trenching spade to the depth culture, could be made to yield; and the result has of two feet, or nearly so, if practicable, care being been that even less than 80 rods, or half an acre, will taken to place the best quality of soil uppermost, produce food sufficient to maintain a cow. This caland to pulverise and mix the whole carefully; level- culation is founded upon the well-known fact, that ling the inequalities of the surface as the work pro- 100 lbs. weight of green food, a considerable portion of ceeds. When such a trench has been completed, the it roots, is a sufficient daily allowance for an ordinary digger commences another of similar width, and so But cows kept upon such produce must not be proceeds until the whole piece of ground has been dug allowed to pasture on those portions of the ground over or trenched. Where the ground is so wet as to that are devoted to grass crops, such as clover, lucern, require draining, drains may easily be made, at conve- tares, &c.; but for the better health of the animals, nient distances from each other, as the work ad- they should have an open space to move about in vances; but it is frequently found that trenching, in adjoining the shed or out-building, where they find a great measure, obviates the necessity of draining, shelter from the storm and cold; for in soiling cattle inasmuch as the subsoil is rendered so loose that the during the hottest part of summer, an open shed, with water readily percolates through it. It occurred that, a in subduing the once barren heaths of Guelderland and the adjacent provinces, the difficulty of obtaining manure was so great at the outset, that nothing but the most hardy plants, and those inferior crops which do not refuse to grow on barren soils, were attempted to be cultivated; at length, by bringing a portion of them under the surface soil, and accumulating small quantities of manure at first, and afterwards larger, by degrees the most barren of these sandy soils became enriched, and by mixing and manuring, acquired the necessary degree of retention of moisture and compactness of parts, so that the more valuable crops were substituted for the poorest ones. In alluding to these practices of the Guelderland farmers, which prevail throughout Flanders, we cannot sufficiently impress on the minds of cottage farmers the great importance of saving every particle of manure, liquid or solid, and disposing it at proper intervals on the fields. In Great Britain, hundreds of thousands of pounds are lost annually by neglecting this grand point in rural economy. Every drop of manuring liquid should run into tanks, covered to prevent evaporation, and all the more solid materials should be consigned to a pit, also covered from the weather; the addition of any waste vegetable matter to the mass of decomposing substances will increase the bulk and value of the manures so secured, and, if properly incorporated with the soil at fitting occasions, the few acres of the cottage farmer, be they naturally as barren as the wilderness, will be made to bloom like a garden. rack for their food, is to be preferred to shutting them up in close stables. Mr Allen, in his "Colonies at Home," very properly remarks-"Whenever it is possible to make a rod of ground produce 500 lbs. of the artificial grasses, in the several cuttings during the season, I greatly prefer it to any thing else, for cows thrive best upon grass and hay." He afterwards observes, in reference to this sort of food-" As it sometimes suffers much in dry seasons, we must not depend entirely upon it; but I have proved that it is possible to keep a cow all the year round upon the produce of half an acre of land, if it be carefully cultivated." He then proceeds to give a list of the produce he raised, which consists of lucern, cabbage, tares, mangel-wurzel, potatoes, turnips, parsnips, and carrots; and as a portion of hay is indispensable along with some of the root-crops during the winter season, he did not attempt to grow it, but sold a portion of his potatoes, and laid out the sum he received for them in hay. It might be too much to expect that a small cottage farm of four acres, under the management of an ordinary cottage farmer, could at once be made to produce sufficient food for the keep of eight cows (half an acre to each cow), in the place of two cows under the old system of cottage farming. But giving him the advantage of an extra acre-that is, reducing the number of cows from eight to six, the products of his various crops, under good management, where the soil is tolerably fertile, would be amply sufficient to maintain six cows, or three times the number he formerly could keep; for, according to this estimate, there would be nearly three-quarters of an acre to each cow. Trenching and manuring are thus the two great It is certainly true, that, even after the whole of the means of melioration. The difference between trench-ground had been trenched, there would be more labour ing and ploughing is, that in the one case the spade annually required to cultivate the sundry crops, and dashes, breaks, and pulverises the soil, putting all the to feed and look after the cows, than was required particles in the way of doing their duty to the roots, while the land continued under the old system of mawhile in the other, the plough leaves many lumps of nagement; but, surely, the produce of the four extra soil unbroken or untouched, and therefore of compa- cows would be more than sufficient to pay all expenses, ratively little use to the vegetation. We have some even were it necessary to hire all the extra labour and remarkable instances of the value of trenching in attendance. our own island; and probably not a more striking one than what has taken place on the "Muirs of Drumforskie" (now called Charleston), in the county of Kincardine, where comparatively worthless lands, by letting them out on "improving leases," apportioning a few acres of those waste lands to each family, have by trenching, draining, and spade culture, been brought into such a state of productiveness, that, at the expiration of the leases, 357 acres have been estimated to yield a clear revenue of L.750, or at the rate of two guineas per acre, per annum. Under the old system of agriculture, except where Cottage farmers are not supposed to require the aid the soil was exceedingly fertile, three acres was the of any other machinery than that which they can use quantity of land usually set apart for the keeping of with their own hands. Ploughs, and all the ordinary a cow the whole year round, and never a smaller alapparatus of the great farmeries, are out of the ques- lowance than two acres. Consequently, an occupier of tion. The principle to be pursued is, to make the four acres of good land could not keep an amount of hand labour of the whole family tell to a good purpose stock beyond two cows. Something over half of the on the productive capacity of the soil; and thus, by four acres would be required for summer pasture, and saving any money outlay, actually compete with the the remainder would be scanty enough to supply the large farmer, who pays for all the assistance he re- necessary quantity of hay-grass. Sometimes a small quires. In order that the cottage farmer may make holder of this sort would break through the old reguthe very most of his possession, he must work it lation, and plough up an acre or so for corn of some thoroughly with the spade. Some persons imagine sort; but as the abstraction of an acre from the four that common delving is all that is meant by spade would greatly diminish either the pasture or hay crop, husbandry, which is a mistake. The soil must not and as every thing connected with the cultivation of only be turned over, but dug or trenched, by which a corn crop by the plough would have to be hired, the earth may be thoroughly stirred and mixed to and the straw prove but a poor substitute for hay the depth of eighteen inches or two feet; and where where only milch cows were kept, it is doubtful if such the soil proper will not admit of this, then a portion | a proceeding would be found an advantageous one. By dairy-farming in this way, small occupiers, whether owners or renters, might greatly improve their present condition: proprietors, in particular, might raise themselves to a state of independence to which they can never aspire while their few acres of land are allowed to remain comparatively uncultivated. Nor would this be the only advantage, since, by the increased productiveness of the soil, a larger proportion of the necessaries of life would be supplied for the benefit of the general community. It has been proved, over and over again, that an acre of ground, well cultivated, will yield abundance of both corn and vegetables for the support of a family of moderate size. Hence it would become an object highly deserving a small occupier's consideration, whether it would be more to his advantage to grow his own corn, or to keep one cow less; for if an allowance of three-quarters of an acre is given to each cow, that quantity of land would yield sufficient corn for a year's consumption; and whether the yearly produce of one cow-that is, the value of the milk, butter, &c., yielded by her-would effect the purchase of a supply of bread stuff, is somewhat more than doubtful. If means and accommodation permit, we should recommend cottage farmers to keep an ass to assist in taking produce to market, or in any other serviceable job. As the ass will eat almost any kind of green food, and that even which is refused by cattle, and is humble and willing servant, he may be made to contribute materially to the comfort of the cottage farmer and his family. a DANNECKER THE SCULPTOR. We find, from a notice in the Art Union, a monthly journal of the fine arts, that the celebrated German sculptor, Dannecker, died at Stuttgard on the 8th of December, in the eighty-fifth year of his age. "To all artists (observes our authority) who have visited Germany, his works are well known, and his fame has reached all English lovers of art through his widely celebrated 'Ariadne,' an exquisite composition, in the possession of Bethman, the banker at Frankfort. The early history of Dannecker is like that of many, very many, first-class artists, and might be written in less than a dozen words, from that vocabulary which supplies the plain means of describing the commencement of every similar career; these are, poor parents-innate devotion to art-intense application-difficulties-success. His parents endea voured to thwart his inclination for the plastic arts; but the fascination was too strong upon him, and it carried him through all their opposition. His father was employed in the stud of Duke Charles of Wurtemburg, to whom the youthful Dannecker explained, personally, his views; and in 1771, at the age of thirteen years, obtained permission to study in the academy at the 'Solitude,' a ducal residence near Stuttgard, where pupils received, gratis, instruction in painting, sculpture, and music. One of the principal rules of this academy was infringed in the admission of Dannecker-for the students admitted were not below the middle rank of life; he, however, soon distinguished himself, and bore away, in his sixteenth year, the prize from older competitors-the prize awarded to him for his model of Milo of Crotona." Friedrick Von Schiller was a fellow-townsman of Dannecker, and also a fellow-student at the Solitude, where a friendship commenced, of which a lasting memorial remains in the famous statue of the illustrious poet. In 1780, and in his twenty-second year, he quitted the academy, as did his friend Schiller at the same time. While studying, he was encouraged by employment from the duke, who afterwards appointed him sculptor to the court, with a salary of 300 florins a-year-about L.25. Ardently desiring improvement beyond what his native place could afford him, his wishes pointed to Paris, which place he received permission to visit; but at first without any addition to his pittance, which was increased by 100 florins only after a residence of some time in that capital. At Paris he became the pupil of Pajou, and made the friendship of the sculptor Scheffaner. At that time, as now, in the French capital, the facilities for the study of nature were greater than in any other European city. To this study, therefore, he devoted himself during the term of his sojourn there, which was about five years. In 1785, he quitted Paris in the society of Scheffauer, with whom he proceeded to Rome, where he attracted the attention of Canova, by whose instruction and advice he was much benefited. In Rome, also, commenced his friendship with Goethe and Herder, who, like himself, were seeking inspiration from the relics that enriched the Eternal City. In Italy his reputation took its rise; for there he produced works which caused the academies of Milan and Bologna to elect him a member of their respective bodies. On returning to Stuttgard, he was employed for some time in modelling various subjects for Duke Carl; and he was thus occupied until 1796, when he again commenced working in marble, and executed his famous Sappho,' which is at Monrepos. Many busts of very celebrated persons are among the works of Dannecker; and none better known than that of his early friend Schiller. His works in marble and bronze are numerous, amounting in number to about 500; of his busts, that of Lavater is considered the finest; and of his ideal productions, his capo d'opera is a statue of the Saviour. This last-named work was finished in the year 1824, having been a subject of elaborate study during eight years. For the original conception he was indebted to a dream; and, perhaps, no other work of its class acquired, during its tardy progress, a greater degree of renown for its author. For some time before his death, Dannecker was but the wreck of what he had been, and had ceased, from mere superannuation, to exercise his art." A CHANCE SPECULATION. A certain citizen of Montrose, it is said, wrote to his agent in London to purchase a ton of copper for him; but the letter being one of the very worst specimens of penmanship, as well as perhaps not very correct in point of orthography, the agent read the order a ton of capers. Surprised at such an order, but nevertheless anxious to oblige his correspondent, he immediately set to work, and bought up the commodity in all quarters till he had the requisite amount. This, as may be conceived, was attended with the very natural effect of creating a demand for capers (in the language of trade, capers came to be inquired after), and also of rendering them scarce, so that they in consequence rose very much in price. The agent now wrote his correspondent that he had had great difficulty in fulfilling his order, but at last had succeeded in procuring for him a ton of capers; but that capers had since risen very much in price, and if he chose to sell, he had now an opportunity of realising a handsome gain on the transaction. The Montrose citizen, as might be expected, was very much astonished in his turn by the communication, and the manner in which his order had been fulfilled, but had the good sense to write immediately to sell by all means; and thus, it is added, pocketed a considerable sum from an unintentional speculation and unexpected advantage. Such a thing is possible, or may be conceived to succeed, with a commodity like capers, of which there is always a limited quantity in the market, but resembles one of those stratagems of war by which a town is sometimes taken, the success of which is more wonderful than would be the failure.-Corbet's Inquiry into the Wealth of Individuals. THE LOVER AND THE BACHELOR. A DIALOGUE-BY J. WILSON. [From the Londonderry Journal of 21st July 1840.] LOVER. Scorner of wedlock, thou dost seem By joy or sorrow more than now. Thy cheerful aspect, mild and meek; Care hath furrow'd not thy cheek. Brain-addled boy, I pity thee, If thou in woman's toils art caught: Peace cannot dwell but with the free; And, oh! the bitter cup is fraught With wormwood, that the soft white hand Of passion to its victim gives! Boy, trust not woman's visage bland; She ever smiles when she deceives. A serpent in her bosom lurks; The fascination of her eye Destruction to its victim works; And shun it most when 'tis most shy. A pouting lip and hectic cheek (Though bile-suffused the one may be) Are things to make a young heart weak; But suffer not their sovereignty. Or sorrow may thy breast assail; For woman is a wavering thingCapricious, vain, and sure to fail; And oft the fruit of love's a sting. LOVER. Ah! speak not thus, my hopes to mar- And ever will be what they seem. At least, the heart that throbs to mine And been befool'd, as thou wilt be- Without a loosening of its bands. Dispel all vain, delusive dreams: Piercing his heart and bosom through; Enough, enough, I'll hear no more By language yet defined, but starts BACHELOR. Thou'lt have thy will, impetuous boy; And why should I disturb thy dream's? But ah! anticipated joy In borrow'd radiance always gleams. Such whims my fancy ne'er shall strike; Give me a book, a friend, a chat; And if I may not love, I'll like, And stroke my sleek old dog and cat. SUPERSTITIOUS OBSERVANCES IN RUSSIA. Lent and all fast days are kept with much greater strictness in Russia than in any Roman Catholic country, and the poor may literally be said to fast, for they never eat any thing but haricot beans, with rape-oil and black bread, during this season; and so bigoted and superstitious are they upon the point, that nothing would induce them to transgress this ordinance of their church. A criminal who had murdered his mother at Odessa, was sentenced to receive the knout, and be banished to Siberia if he survived the punishment; he did so, and on his road there, the gang to which he was attached halted one day at a wretched pot-house on the road-side to obtain some refreshment. It was during Lent, but this miserable hovel was kept by a Jew, and he had therefore flesh, as well as fish and herbs, to offer to his guests. "What will you eat?" said the host to the thieves-"fish or flesh?" "What!" said the matricide, "eat meat in Lent? Dog of a Jew! I have killed my mother, and would kill my father too, rather than eat meat in Lent." A journeyman carpenter, who was at work at my house, asked for some bread; the servant gave him half a loaf: he took it, but knowing that we were foreigners, asked, before he began to eat, whether we fasted? She answered in the negative. “Oh, then," said the man, "take back your bread: nothing would tempt me to taste it." Easter eve is looked forward to with great impatience, and twelve o'clock on that night with infinitely more eagernesss than the hour of sunset is in the Ramadan. Long before midnight the steps of the churches, and the roads leading to them, are crowded with people laden with eatables of all kinds, which must be blessed by a priest before they can break their long fast. Every one brings something, according to his means, and the poor hoard up every copeck during Lent for this occasion. There is, of course, a great variety in their offerings; the rich bring sucking-pigs and lambs, confectionery, poultry, and hams, while the serfs have loaves of bread, cakes, and hard eggs. Most of these are decorated with ribbons and flowers; the eggs are generally of various colours, usually red, but some are gilt, and have saints, and all kinds of patterns, painted on them. Many bushels are frequently collected in one house; they are boiled hard, and no one goes out without a few in his pocket, to keep up the following singular custom : Ivan and Alexis meet in the street; the two friends stop, and each pulls out an egg; the former holds his in the hollow of his closed hand, in such a manner that the small end only can be seen; this Alexis endeavours to break, by tapping it with the end of his, but not by any means in a hurry, for a good deal of manoeuvring is shown on the occasion, and it is some time before Ivan has arranged his to his mind. At last, all is ready, and his friend gives the fatal blow. The one whose egg is broken loses; the victor pockets both, and says, “Christ is risen;" the other replies, " He is indeed risen." They then take off their hats, kiss three times, make a most profound bow, and part, to repeat the same ceremony at the corner of the next street. Another great event of the day is a general change of linen; the mujik puts on a new pink shirt, which lasts him till Easter comes round again.-Captain Jesse's Notes of a Half-Pay. RISING IN THE WORLD. What is rising in the world? Here is all the difficulty. Is it for the prosperous man to move in a bigger house, and patronise tailors, milliners, and upholsterers, and give splendid entertainments? This may be perfectly allowable and proper, as the reward and natural consequence of industry and frugality; but it is not rising in the world. The only way to rise in the world, even for the prosperous man, is to cultivate his mind and manners, and educate his family. It is not to set up his carriage, though this may be perfectly allowable, if he can afford it. It is not to resort to this or that watering-place, though there is no objection to his doing that, if he pleases. It is to raise himself and family in the scale of moral and intellectual beings. It is not to bring up his sons in idleness, under the preposterous notion of making them gentlemen, and in so doing make them fops and dandies instead of men, and thus prepare them for squandering his estate much faster than he amassed it. It is not to educate his daughters with merely showy accomplishments, and with the expectation that this world is to be as a show, and life a holiday. The best symptom of [Had we written the foregoing verses, we certainly should not rising in the world that he can give, is to despise the have allowed the bachelor to have the last word.] M. PERIGORD AND HIS DANCING-DOG. The following anecdote is from the Life of Wilberforce:-"We were talking of the levity and gaiety of heart of the French, even under the severest misfortunes. This drew forth an anecdote, which had been related to him by Mr Pitt. Shortly after the tragical death of Marie Antoinette, M. Perigord, an emigrant of some consequence, who had made Mr Pitt's acquaintance at Versailles, took refuge in England, and on coming to London, went to pay his respects in Downing Street. The conversation naturally turned upon the bloody scenes of the French Revolution, on their fatal consequences to social order, and in particular on the barbarity with which the unfortunate queen had been treated. The Frenchman's feelings were quite overcome, and he exclaimed, amidst violent sobbing, Ah, Monsieur Pitt, la pauvre reine! la pauvre reine! These words had scarcely been uttered, when he jumped up as if a new idea suddenly possessed him, and looking towards a little dog which came with him, he exclaimed, Cependant, Monsieur Pitt, il faut vous faire voir mon petit chien danser.' Then pulling a small kit out of his pocket, he began dancing about the room to the sound of his little instrument, and calling to the dog, Funchon, Fanchon, dansez, dansez!' the little animal instantly obeyed, and they cut such capers together, that the minister's gravity was quite overcome, and he burst into a loud laugh, hardly knowing whether he was most amused or astonished." 6 follies of society, to set at naught the despotism of fashion, to perceive and resist the absurdity of a business community following in the footsteps of the aristocracy of Europe. It would show hopeful signs of rising above the vulgar, both great and small, if he should refuse to countenance the nonsense of turning night into day, and day into night.-Burnap. TEMPERANCE. Gouty affections are as much caused by excess in eating as by intemperance in drinking: the quality as well as the quantity of the food should be attended to. Persons who are in the habit of frequently dining out, can never be effectually cured of this disease. The system pursued by a dog doctor in Paris, is the best that can be adopted for the prevention of gouty affections. Ladies bring their lap-dogs to him in their carriages, and say their pets are unwell, and they know not what is the matter. The man locks the dogs up in an airy room, gives them some water, a little bread, and a dry bone to pick. By way of exercise, he makes them skip about, two or three times a-day, by means of a little horsewhip dexterously applied. At the expiration of a fortnight he takes them home to their mistresses, well, active, and hungry.-Polytechnic Journal. LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W. S. ORR, Paternoster Row. Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars. DINBURGA CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE," "CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c. NUMBER 532. THE PRIVATE PURSE. BY MRS S. C. HALL. PART I. "TELL my niece, Miss Geraldine-I mean, tell Mrs Leeson that as soon as she has put off her bridal and put on her travelling dress, I wish to see her," said Mrs Gascoigne to her maid, who had not answered her bell until she had rung it twice. "Yes, ma'am," replied the flushed maiden, who was bowed out with white satin ribbon, as if she too were just made a bride. "And listen-When all this mummery is over, take off these white fal-lals, and lay them by; they will do for the next fool of the family who chooses to enter the 'holy bonds'-ah! ah!" The servant hardly murmured "Yes, ma'am" to this, nor had she quite closed the door on the crackling laugh of her mistress, when she muttered, "Well, that beats all! She to come on a visit to her own sister, on her niece's wedding-day, and grudge me wearing of the ribbons that cost her nothing! But it's just like her! Stingy!-augh! It's no use talking -I can't a-bear stinginess. I wonder why she could not stay below at the breakfast like other Christians; but it's none of my business. Put by the ribbons, indeed, that never cost her a brass farthing!" A group of ladies passing from one room to another interrupted this soliloquy, and turned the rippling current of the waiting-maid's small mind from meditation to observation. In an instant she became spell-bound by the white roses that garlanded the bridesmaids' bonnets. Mrs Gascoigne, a lady of some five-and-fifty years, who had been a wife for a year and a widow for ten, was occupied after her own fashion. She was seated at a table in her dressing-room, and upon it was her open desk. Her long narrow features were pinched into a mean expression; her hair grew thinly above her brow; and yet it was short and frizzed, as if it had not the heart to grow long. Her lips were thin and compressed, betokening, however, secrecy rather than firmness. I have noted ugly mouths, still of a bland and generous formation; but I never saw a mouth like Mrs Gascoigne's that was not indicative of meanness and subterfuge. Her eyes were fine-that is to say, well set, and of a good colour; but their expression was unpleasing-it was sharp and suspicious. Her dress was neither good nor becoming, and she had flung aside the silver favour indicative of the motive that had drawn her from her own home. A faded purse of blue and white was between her fingers, and into it she had dropped some guineas-not sovereigns, but old-fashioned golden guineas-which she had, as it were, purloined from her own desk. She shook them once or twice, and an unconscious smile disturbed the gravity of her face-it was evident that she loved the golden chimes. Then she picked one out, and put it into its secret hiding-place in her desk. "Forty-nine," she said to herself" forty-nine will go as far with a foolish girl as fifty; but it's an odd number-she may wonder why it was not fifty." Another was taken from the purse and returned to the drawer. A moment's pause-she looked out a third, a fourth; weighed it for a moment on her well-practised finger -it was a thought light, so she exchanged it for one that pleased her better, and it was dropped into the hoard. Another she chinked the purse again. "Forty-five good guineas-forty and five," she repeated "hum! quite enough to commence a private purse for the wife of a young banker ;" and she shut it to with a determined snap. SATURDAY, APRIL 9, 1842. PRICE 1d. "May I come in, dear aunt?" said a sweet voice at ing-school, heard her play and sing, and saw her dance the door-" may I come in?" Until the desk was shut and locked she made no answer; and then, affecting not to have recognised tones the sweetness of which told upon every ear, as the joy bells sound upon the summer air, she inquired, "Who is there?" "Me, aunt-Geraldine," answered the same music. "Oh yes, dear, come in," said Mrs Gascoigne. For a moment she looked with pride upon the young and lovely being who had that day committed her entire destiny into the hands of one who had promised, with his whole heart and soul, to "love her, comfort her, honour and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep him only unto her so long as they both should live." "Why, dear," exclaimed Mrs Gascoigne, as the mind returned to its old habits, "what a deal of money that dress must have cost! it is a real pity to hack it travelling a real pity. Dear Geraldine, have you no turned silk you could wear on the journey?—eh!" "You know, aunt, I brought Henry no fortune, so mamma thought the least thing I might have was a handsome wardrobe;" and she looked as much annoyed as she could have been with any thing on such a day. "Ah, dear-well, that's true; I suppose your poor mother scraped together all she could to make up the trousseau, and has no little purse to give you, eh?" "My dear mother," replied the bride-and the ready tears rose to her eyes-" has indeed done every thing to make me happy-I was going to say independent but every woman is dependent upon her husband; and Henry is so gentle and affectionate, I have no fear that he will make me feel he was rich and I was poor. Mamma gave me ten guineas, and," added the fair girl (she had not numbered nineteen summers), with a proud air, "it will be a long time before I spend all that." "That's my own Geraldine-keep it, dear-don't spend it-keep it. Gold grows by the keeping; it does not rust or mildew-keep it; it is power-all that man or woman wants. I know that-by wanting it, Geraldine. Ay, you may smile, and I daresay your mother and all of them think it not true: poor Mr Gascoigne left me enough, but no more. You, Geraldine, were my god-child-called after me-and I must say that you have been as good and as affectionate as if I had made you a present every birthday, which, perhaps, I might have done, had I not been afraid you would have married your cousin Arthur Harewell." "My dearest aunt !" ejaculated Geraldine, in a tone of surprise. "Oh, yes! I know he was very fond of you; but I hate every one of the Harewells; they are as poor as church mice, and yet as proud of their intellect as if they had been every one city members. Now, my dear, I am going to tell you a secret, which I must not have you tell Henry; your own secrets you may tell him, if you are foolishly fond of talking, but as this is my secret, you have no right to tell it." "No," said Geraldine, somewhat hastily, "I will not tell him your secret, aunt. I have no right to do that, I think." "Certainly not, my dear; all men have odd notions, and it is a foolish thing to tell them every nonsense; it makes them think little of us women, to keep up a tittle-tattle about every trifle." Geraldine gave no reply to this. She had made up her mind to tell Henry every thing; this was her own right-minded impulse; for her mother, a quiet, amiable, fashionably-thinking woman, fancied she performed her duty when she sent Geraldine to a board during the vacations-restricted her own expenditure in all things that she might have the best masters, and be as well ressed as girls who had ten times her fortune-a sure way to enfeeble the mind-took it for granted, that, as she knew her catechism, had been confirmed, and went every Sunday to church, her religious education was such as to befit the high calling of a Christian-and had never spoken to her of the duties a woman is called upon to fulfil as wife and mother, until about a week previous to the wedding-day, when she told her to be affectionate and forbearing, and "not to forget her own dignity." Something she added about the duties of a mother, and the advantage of cold bathing for infants; but quickly concluded by saying that there would be "time enough to think of that." No wonder that Geraldine was unable to reply to her aunt's commonplaces, and at once unravel their fallacy and penetrate their danger. There are, to my knowledge, at this moment, when volumes on female education pour from the presswhen national education is rendering the lower superior to the higher class in solid and useful knowledge -there are scores of well-intentioned ladies, gentlewomen by birth and in manner, who love their daughters, who would (if they knew how) forward their temporal and eternal welfare in every possible way-and yet do no more than Geraldine Leeson's mother did. When shall we have a school for mothers? Mrs Gascoigne resumed the broken thread of her discourse more quickly than I have finished my digression. "Well, my dear Geraldine, I have here a little present for you-just enough to prevent your running to your husband's pocket every moment; but you must not tell him a word about it-it is my secret. If he or your mother were to know I had scraped together fifty-no, five-and-forty-guineas for you, they would expect me to go on giving; and the more you give, the more you may. So, take it with my blessing, child, and take care of it; spend it secretly for any little thing you may want, and say nothing about it." Geraldine was really surprised and pleased; she had never in all her life had so much money of her own, and least of all had she expected it from her "stingy aunt." She reiterated her thanks most sincerely; and little thought she had taken the first step towards deceiving her husband and working her own misery. "Remember," repeated Mrs Gascoigne "remember, it is my secret, and you have promised; you cannot conceive how I should suffer if you broke your word." Again Geraldine kissed her, and bade her affectionately farewell-not before she had been twice summoned by her bridesmaids. "I might as well," said this dangerous monitor, as she took her seat by the window to observe the departing carriages-" I might as well have taken back that odd five; and then the ten her mother gave her would have just made up the fifty. I hope she'll take care of it, poor dear child! There she goes, and her cousin, Arthur Hare well, handing her in! Well, I shall conceive it my duty to give Henry Leeson a hint to look after his pretty wife when Master Harewell is in the way. It is a very queer world we live in !" The people who make the world "queer," as they call it, are the first to complain of this queerness; and so it was with Mrs Gascoigne. Her own marriage had been entirely dictated by interested motives. She married a rich old miser for the sake of his wealth, when she was past forty; and upon her "queer" ways his "queer" ways became engrafted. Geraldine's match pleased her, because Mr Leeson was rich; and she fancied her god-child had inherited her disposition, because she had discarded a poor cousin, whom she believed, erroneously, she loved, and married a wealthy man, whom she, as erroneously, believed she did not love. If Geraldine had chanced to like and wed her poor cousin, Mrs Gascoigne would never have given her five-and-forty pence. Geraldine Leeson had escaped many of the contaminations of a public school, from a sincere desire to learn thoroughly whatever she undertook; consequently she had little spare time. She knew the sacrifices her mother made that she might become accomplished; and besides, she loved her home dearly and devotedly. She had not left it as early as many children do, so that the home affections, if not fullgrown, had taken root before her departure into a community as varied and as dangerous as that of all large schools must be, until their entire system is thoroughly regenerated. Still, as this was a finishing school," she could not but hear various speculations, on the part of many of the elder girls, as to "when they should come out." How anxious the mamma of one was to get papa into good humour, to spend a winter in Paris-whether he could afford it or not-because her cousin had made an excellent match there; to be sure, the gentleman thought at first, from the style they lived in, that they were very rich, but he knew the difference now; and the other girls laughed at this, and exclaimed, "What fun!" Another mourned bitterly" papa's stinginess," and how her poor mamma was obliged to alter the house bills to make them appear more than they were, or else they never could have any thing fit to wear; while a third rejoiced that such never could be the case at home, as her mamma's pin-money was secured, and she did as she pleased without consulting any one! All this sort of poisoning is carried on, like all poisonings, secretly: I do believe that few women, undertaking the charge of youth, would suffer such observations to go unreproved; but no governess can have ear and eye for fifty, or even five-and-twenty, grown-up" young ladies, who are permitted to sleep, four or two, in the same room, and to walk attended by foreign teachers, who frequently do not understand the language spoken by their pupils. 66 Geraldine had escaped systematic corruption; she loved music and dancing for their own sakes, and never cared a great deal for creating a sensation. She, of course, desired to be loved; but she never degraded affection by calculation. She would have paused, certainly, before she wedded poverty; but she would not have married simply because her lover was rich. So far she was tolerably right; but, unfortunately, many mothers, and hers among the number, have confused notions as to the boundaries of the delicate and indelicate. If love is mentioned, instead of impressing the young mind with a just idea of its sacred nature, its holy attributes, its natural impulses, it is dismissed with an "Oh fie!" or a reproving look, which at once assures the daughter that her mother cannot be her confidant, and thus a mother loses a stronghold in her child's mind; whereas, making it the subject of conversation, speaking of it as an event on which much of the happiness or misery of after-life depends, would strengthen the reasoning powers against its undue influence, and, while subduing its violence, lead to its being considered in its more holy and sacred bearings. Geraldine's mother would have almost blushed herself at mentioning a husband to her, in the abstract; and yet she could not fail to perceive to what the hint of, raldine, wear your blue and white, and let Esther dress your hair; I want you to look particularly well tonight" tended-for this was done when only one eldest son was expected to "come in and try his new flute." How much of the dignity of truth, with which every British mother ought to be crowned, is sacrificed to those petty arts; how much misery ensured, by domestic duties feebly sustained! "Ge "I hope," said her mother-" I hope and pray you may make a good wife;" and she meant what she said, but she had never adopted the means to make her one. Geraldine read over the marriage ceremony, thought for a moment how harsh that word "obey" sounded, then wondered she had thought so-"it would be so easy to obey one she loved as she loved Henry-obedience would be pleasure;" and so she closed the book. Her nature was very timid. She had little strength of either body or mind, but she had much affection, a gentle yielding temper, and wished to do right in all things. Her husband had settled a handsome independence upon her in case of his death; but the idea of wanting any thing while he lived she had put far from her. Although induced by her selfish aunt to promise not to mention her fatal gift, it had never entered into her head that she was doing wrong in keeping a secret from her husband. month's allowance." which eschews English theatres altogether - Henry, management. I saved nearly five pounds out of my first "Oh! let me see-this week." "But you told me how you spent five of that at Chel- Mr Leeson bit his lip. "Indeed!" he replied; "she "It does not need a mother to be very rich to give a child ten guineas even for such a toy as this," she said, 66 One person is rich with a pound, another poor with a She could not reply; she felt agitated, degraded; she "I will not," she said, "run a second risk; I will re- she received; and truly, my dear, I am not astonished want of fortune." "Oh, dear aunt, he never thought of that!" "I certainly did. Now, my dear aunt, why do you look so? Where would have been the pleasure of saving without his praise? I saved five pounds, and gave it him." "And he took it?" "Yes; of course he did." "And after that to speak so meanly about the chain! (which, to confess the truth, was a bit of extravagance; but he did not think that)---a pretty clear proof that he expects you to consult him on every inch of ribbon. Don't be a fool, Geraldine. I know the world, and I know that the more you give in, the more you may. Why, you do not expect a business-man, such as Mr Leeson surely is, to suffer you to lay out his money for what you may fancy ?-he knows how money grows out of money too well for that. No; make up your mind to one of two courses--either be content to sink into an upper servant, spending your month's allowance upon the house, and giving in your honest account, or do as I did ---as other women do--and keep a little for yourself; you do not know how you may want it; and, from the fuss he made last night about that stupid chain---in public, too---I think you may very easily judge that he intends to draw the purse-strings tight; and you looked all the night as penitent as if you had committed a crime. Well, well, you will know better. I once knew a woman who managed to scrape a purse together so cleverly, that, when her husband got into difficulties, she was able to provide all sorts of little comforts for the house, without the knowledge of the creditors." "But was that honest ?" inquired the young wife," as it was saved out of his means." "But surely he) intended it to have been spent ?" "Yes, very likely," replied Mrs Leeson, who was musing on her husband's rudeness; and then she added, “Yet such a system destroys mutual confidence." "My poor foolish child!" retorted her aunt, with an ominous shake of her head---" My poor foolish child! you do not surely believe that your husband tells you every A handsome, would-bething---makes you a confidant! fashionable young man make his wife his confidant !--tell her every thing! Why, what a fool you must be !--ah ah!" and the old crackling laugh grated on Geraldine's heart. "By the way," resumed the adviser, "who was with you when you bought that chain?" "Oh! and you told Mr Leeson that, too, I suppose." "No, I did not; but I would in a moment, for I saw no harm in it." "Well, my dear, he would; he's as jealous as a Turk. had given you that chain." I would not wonder if he thought that Arthur Harewell "I told him mamma gave me the money." "Oh! ah! so you did; I daresay he thought her a great fool, for he must know how little she has to spare; however, dear, there's an end of it now. Take my advice -do not invite Arthur to the house yourself, keep what money you have safely, and add to it whenever you can. You'll find Henry, with all his love, will draw the pursestrings tighter and tighter every year; it's always the way with those business-men: and men of independence are just as bad in the other way, they draw in to meet their own greedy extravagance." Geraldine was so confounded by the variety of new ideas-the suspicion that she did not possess her brusband's confidence, that he insulted her by his jealousy, that let her be as confiding as she would, she would meet with no return, that he was, or would be, avaricious, not from want but caprice-all caused her such pain, that she retired to her room to find relief in tears, without returning the remainder of her money. If she had preconceived notions upon the subject-if her mind had been decided that, let her husband's conduct be what it would, her duties, solemnly pledged at the altar, remained the same, all would have been well. But, poor thing, she had no fixed principles to build on. Her cousin called a couple of hours after, and she did not ask him to dinner. When her husband returned, he found her languid and cold, with an indescribable air of offended dignity; whereas he, on the other hand, felt constrained and afflicted at a duplicity he had discovered for the first time. If either had confided in the other, how much after misery would have been spared to both! Mr Leeson heard from the footman that Mr Harewell had called, and thought it was odd his wife did not as usual mention his name, with those of two or three other visiters; then he asked her abruptly, "Why she had not detained her cousin Arthur to dinner ?" Her aunt's insinuation as to her husband's jealousy immediately occurred to her, and she stammered and man's frivolous manner on the preceding evening; and blushed so as to recall vividly to his mind the young the consequence was, that both felt exceedingly unhappy. Six months had elapsed since Geraldine became the wife of Henry Leeson. She was established in a pretty It is not to be wondered at that Mr Leeson suffered house at the West End;" had a chariot of the newest a good deal of anxiety; for it so happened he had discovered that his wife's mother was exceedingly disbuild, a pair of unexceptionable bays, a very tall foottressed for money before she had quitted his house to man, and a very little page; went sometimes to the opera, return to her own; and, with a delicacy which deserved presided at a small dinner party, and assisted at a soirée, increased confidence, he had placed a sum at her dispowith infinite propriety; and so liberally had her hussal as she was leaving London, intreating her not to menband ministered even to her fancies, that she had only spent five guineas of her store. She had told him of give her pain. The old lady thanked him with tears of tion it to Geraldine, lest the shadow of obligation might her mother's gift, but remained silent as to her aunt's. gratitude, confessing that she had wished to borrow a Her cousin had come to town to "keep his terms," and her aunt had succeeded her mother as an inmate for a few pounds from her daughter, but thought it better not, lest it might lead to uncomfortable feelings. This month. "The season," as it is called, had commenced; proved to him that his beloved wife-she whom he loved and if it had not been that her aunt's presence damped her spirits, she would have been as happy as any wife affection-she in whose simple purity he trusted, and with all the passion of a strong, truthful, and fervent could be. Her husband never was late at his club, and, would have trusted for ever-had deceived him by a mean like most junior partners in a bank, did not remain at his falsehood. If she had not returned him the five pounds counting-house longer than was absolutely necessary. No, my dear, but as large a stock of cash as she can already mentioned, he would again have taxed her with One evening, soon after the aunt and her niece had muster. Henry makes you an allowance for house-keep-forming a private purse; but that act militated so strongly taken their places in front of a private box at Coventing; you do not spend it all, I hope ?" against such a supposition, that he repudiated the idea Garden-for they did not move in the very high sphere “No, aunt; he has given me great credit for good for one far more painful-he believed she had either "By a large stock of affection?" inquired Geraldine, half amused and more than half awakened by her aunt's theory. |