which it was fastened. Madame B-r wore a wig, which she felt would follow the bonnet; she therefore let go her petticoats to secure the head-gear; but the wind, bent upon having its own way, twirled and twisted about Madame B-r, who, by the bye, was of immense size, and without any ceremony began to lift up her gown and petticoats. It then became necessary for the hands to go to the assistance of the lower extremities. Thus the bonnet, abandoned to the caprice of the storm, was carried away, together with the wig, and poor Madame B-r saved the honour of her legs at the expence of her naked scalp, which stood confessed before Napoleon, who at that instant turned round to speak to the Minister of Marine, whom he thought to be close behind him. It must be confessed that such a spectacle was a difficult ordeal for the Emperor's gravity. It was impossible to help laughing at the sight of an immensely fat woman presenting a fat, white, round head, close shaved; her countenance expressing wildness and terror; and her whole body strained by her exertions to keep down her petticoats. The Emperor, however, behaved very well; his smile as he passed her was scarcely perceptible.

Athenæum.

TOM CRINGLE'S DESCRIPTION OF A BOY ATTACKED BY A SHARK.

"Never you mind, Pepperbottom," said the boy, giving the imp the name he had richly earned by repeated flagellations. "Never you mind. I am not ashamed to shew my naked hide, you know. But it is against orders in these seas to go overboard, unless with a sail under-foot; so I sha'n't run the risk of being tattooed by the boatswain's mate, like some one I could tell of."

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"Coward," muttered the little wasp, you are afraid sir;" and the other boys abetting the mischief-maker, the lad was goaded to leave his hold of the cable, and strike out for the buoy. He reached it, and then turned, and pulled towards the ship again, when he caught my eye.

"Who is that overboard? How dare you, sir, disobey the standing order of the ship; Come in, boy; Come in."

My hailing the little fellow shoved him off his balance, and he lost his presence of mind for a moment or two, during which he, if any thing, widened his distance from the ship.

At this instant the lad on the spritsail-yard sung out quick and suddenly, "A shark, a shark!"

And the monster, like a silver pillar, suddenly shot up perpendicularly from out the dark green depths of the sleeping pool, with the waters sparkling and hissing around him, as if he had been a sea-demon rushing on his prey.

"Pull for the cable, Louis," shouted fifty voices at once--"pull for the cable."

The boy did so-we all ran forward. He reached the cable-grasped it with both hands, and hung on, but before he could swing himself out of the water, the fierce fish had turned. His whitishgreen belly glanced in the sun-the poor little fellow gave a heart-splitting yell, which was shattered amongst the impending rocks into piercing echoes, and these again were reverberated from cavern to cavern, until they died away amongst the hollows in the distance, as if they had been the faint shrieks of the danned-yet he held fast for a second or two-the ravenous tyrant of the sea tug, tug, tugging at him, till the stiff taught cable shook again. At length he was torn from his hold, but did not disappear; the animal continuing on the surface crunching his prey with his teeth, and digging at him with his jaws, as if trying to gorge a morsel too large to be swallowed, and making the water flash up in foam over the boats in pursuit, by the powerful strokes of his tail, but without ever letting go his hold. The poor lad only cried once more-but

were no chalybeate springs, war ranted to cure every disease under the sun; no ruins in the neighbourhood, left expressly for antiquarians and picnic parties; no fine prospects, which, like music, people make it matter of conscience to admire; no celebrated person had ever been born or buried in its environs; there were no races, no assizes -in short, there was no nothing.' It was not even summer; so country air and fine weather were not the induce ments.-The stranger's name was Mr. Williams-but that was the extent of their knowledge; and, shy and silent, there seemed no probability of learning any thing more from himself. Conjecture, like Shakspeare. 'exhausted worlds, and then imagined new.' Some supposed he was hiding from his creditors, others that he had committed for gery; one.suggested that he had escaped from a mad-house, a second that he had killed some one in a duel : but all agreed that he came there for no good. It was the 23d of March, when a triad of gossips were assembled at their temple, the post-office. The affairs of Dalton and the nation were settled together; newspapers were slipped from their covers, and not an epistle but yielded a portion of its contents. But on this night all attention was concentrated upon one, directed to John Williams, Esq., at the White Hart, Dalton.' Eagerly was it compressed in the long fingers of Mrs Mary Smith of dinnerless memory; the fat landlady of the White Hart was on tip-toe to peep; while the post-mistress, whose curiosity took a semblance of of ficial dignity, raised a warning hand against any overt act of violence. The paper was closely folded, and closely written in a close and illegible hand; suddenly Mrs. Mary Smith's look grew more intent-she had succeeded in deciphering a sentence; the letter dropped from her hand. Oh, the monster!' shrieked the horrified peeper. Landlady and post-mistress both snatched at the terrible scroll, and they equally succeeded in reading the following words: --We will settle the matter to-morrow at dinner; but I am sorry you persist in poisoning your wife- the horror is too great.' Not a syllable more could they make out; but what they had read was enough. 'He told me,' gasped the landlady, that he expected a lady and gentleman to dinner-oh, the villain! to think of poisoning any lady at the White Hart and his wife, too-I should like to see my husband poisoning me! Our hostess became quite personal

in her indignation. I always thoug there was something suspicious about him; people don't come and live where nobody knows them, for nothing,' observed Mrs. Mary Smith. I daresay,' returned the post-mistress, 'Williams is not his real name.' 'I don't know that,' interrupted the landlady; 'Williams is a good hanging name: there was Williams who murdered the Marr's family, and Williams who burked all those poor dear children; I daresay he is some relation of theirs; but to think of his coming to the White Hart—it's no place for his doings, I can tell him: he sha'n't poison his wife in my house; out he goes this very night—İ'll take the letter to him myself.' Lord! Lord! I shall be ruined, if it comes to be known that we take a look into the letters ;' and the post-mistress thought in her heart that she had better let Mr. Williams poison his wife at his leisure. Mrs. Mary Smith, too, reprobated any violent measures; the truth is, she did not wish to be mixed up in the matter; a gentlewoman with an annuity and a front and back parlour, was rather ashamed of being detected in such close intimacy with the post-inistress and the landlady. It seemed that poor Mrs. Williams would be left to her miserable fate. 'Murder will out,' said the landlord, the following morning, as he mounted the piebald pony, which like Tom Tough, had seen a deal of service; and hurried off in search of Mr. Crampton, the nearest magistrate. Their perceptions assisted by brandy and water, he and his wife had sat up long past the witching hour of night.' deliberating on what line of conduct would be most efficacious in preserving the life of the unfortunate Mrs. Williams; and the result of their deliberation was to fetch the justice, and have the delinquent taken into custody at the very dinner-table which was intended to be the scene of his crime. He has ordered soup to-day for the first time; he thinks he could so easily slip poison into the liquid. There he goes; he looks like a man who has got some→ thing on his conscience,' pointing to Mr Williams, who was walking up and down at his usual slow pace. Two o'clock arrived, and with it a hack chaise: out of it stept, sure enough, a lady and gentleman. The landlady's pity redoubled-such a pretty young, creature, not above nineteen! I see how it is,' thought she, 'the old wretch is jealous.' All efforts to catch her eye were in vain-the dinner was ready, and down they sat. The hostess of the

White Hart looked alternately out of the window, like sister Ann, to see if any one was coming, and at the table to see that nothing was doing. To her dismay she observed the young lady lifting a spoonful of broth to her mouth! She could restrain herself no longer; but catching her hand, exclaimed 'Poor dear innocent, the soup is poisoned!' All started from the table in confusion, which was yet to be increased:-a bus-* tle was heard in the passage, in rushed a whole party, two of whom, each catching an arm of Mr. Williams, pinioned him down to his seat. I am happy, madam,' said the little bustling magistrate, to have been, under Heaven, the humble instrument of preserving your life from the nefarious designs of that disgrace to humanity.' Mr. Crampton paused in consequence of three wantswant of words, breath, and ideas. My life!' ejaculated the astonished lady. 'Yes, madam, the ways of Providence are inscrutable-the vain curiosity of three idle women has heen turned to

good account.' And the eloquent magistrate proceeded to detail the process of inspection to which the fatal letter had been subjected; but when he came to the terrible words-We will settle the matter to-morrow at dinner; but I am sorry you persist in poisoning your wife' he was interrupted by bursts of laughter from the gentleman, the injured wife, and even from the prisoner himself. One fit of merriment was followed by another, till it became contagious, and the very constables began to langh too. I can explain all,' at last interrupted the visitor. Mr. Williams came here for that quiet so necessary for the labours of genius: he is writing a melo-drame called My Wife-he submitted the last act to me, and I rather objected to the poisoning of the heroine. This young lady is my daughter, and we are on our way to the sea coast. Mr. Williams is only wedded to the Muses.' The disconcerted magistrate shook his head, and muttered something about theatres being very immoral. Quite mistaken, sir,' said Mr. Williams. Our soup is cold; but our worthy landlady roasts fowls to a turn-we will have them and the veal cutlets up-you will stay and dine with us-and, afterwards, I shall be proud to read My Wife aloud, in the hope of your approval, at least of your indulgence'-and with the same hope, I bid farewell to my readers."

6

Keepsake.

THE SLEEPER'S SHRIFT. BY H. F. CHORLEY. (Concluded from page 215.)

In the mean time the officious man of law had snatched the packet and broken the seals: and the old man repeated solemnly, "I declare this to be the last will of my master, drawn in Vienna, six months before his decease; and that this is as true and substantial a fact, as that I murdered him, this day four months ago; which crime I am now come here to confess, and abide its punishment,"

"Can this be?" said one to another. "This, at least, is a valid document;" said the counsellor. "I know these signatures well to be those of the leading lawyers in Vienna; and," continued he, raising his voice, it sets forth that the Herr Ausler, being displeased at the importunity of his cousin Count Philip Seltzermann, had bequeathed all his possessions of land and money to the holy fathers of the church in Prague and Vienna: a portion of the same to be applied to the purchase of masses for the repose of his soul."

"What?" shrieked Madame Lim

burg.

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Pious man!" ejaculated all the ecclesiastics at once.

"It is even so!" repeated the counsellor; "shall we proceed with the ceremony, or examine yonder old fellow first?"

"Ceremony!" exclaimed the widow; "wretched duped woman that I am! What throw myself away upon a beggar? Never, never!

"Stick to that," mumbled Richilda to herself," and all may come right yet; and. by Our Lady, Count Philip bears the loss of lands and lady easily enough. I'll get upon this bench, and see what comes next."

Upon inquiry, it was discovered that one of the witnesses to this document was even then in Prague, and while a messenger was dispatched to summon him, the remainder of the old man's story claimed examination; and it proved on minute inquiry to run in this wise. The steward Schreivogel had been deeply trusted by the murdered miser, and in fact was one of three who witnessed this his last will; wherein, in his spleen, he had cut off his gallant young cousin from deriving any advantage from the immense wealth he left behind him. But they had often violent and secret disagreements; and on the recent occasion, the Herr Ausler having dispatched him to Vienna on business of

importance, was seized with one of those suspicious fits so common to avaricious people, and resolved to follow him, and watch if he were indeed as faithful a servant as he seemed; for this purpose he set out a few days after his steward. Schrievogel, never dreaming of such a freak, even on the part of his eccentric master, had taken his own time for the journey; and in fact, had visited an old companion in iniquity, who lived in the woods near Wanderstein, and who allowed his comrade the use of his house, as a place of deposit for the gain which, with his superior cunning, he contrived to wring from his flintyhearted master.

It chanced, that upon the noon of the day on which my story commences, the steward had encountered Philip, who was riding along in no pleasant frame of mind, smarting under the cold-hearted and peremptory unkindness of the Herr Ausler. Schrievogel, whose malicious spirit was chafed by the remembrance of some recent quarrel, joined the young soldier; and, after some greeting they began to talk. The old man had always shewn kindness to Philip; and knowing that his disorderly habits could not much longer be concealed from the scrutiny of his miserly master, had many times conceived the idea of getting rid of old Ausler, and laying a foundation for the acquisition of new importance and wealth, by putting Philip in his place, and if possible, acquiring an ascendancy over him-by making him participate, if not in the crime, at least in its concealment. Many times had he hinted the subject to him, but without success; that day, however, he allowed himself to be thrown off his guard, and proposed the murder in language not to be misunderstood. He represented to Philip, that his frequent residences at Wanderstein, would afford him numerous opportunities of surprising his ungenerous relation: he even pointed out the identical chestnut wood as they passed it, as a place where the deed might be committed without a chance of discovery. Philip was young and irascible: he had borne that day the taunts of all others the hardest to bear, the insolent assumption of the rich and mean, over the poor and highminded; but he cast back the temptation with disdain. What, become a murderer!" said he, vehemently; "get thee behind me Satan!" and they parted abruptly. As the lover spurred his steed through the forest, it may be, however, that the temptation recurred to him more

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strongly than he dared to confess. Before him, lay wealth, prosperity, love,

the deed was in his power. It was an act of justice towards one who had committed such glaring injustice; of mercy, towards one who had so little enjoyment of life. Torturing himself with these sophisms, he arrived at Wanderstein, as we have seen, dispirited and perturbed.

Schrievogel in his turn rode on his way, in great alarm that his master was in pursuit of him. It boded ill for the continuante of that course of fraud in which he had so long rioted: with the daring of one used to contemplate desperate designs, he resolved to perform the deed himself, and to rely upon his long-tried craftiness for maintaining an ascendancy over the new heir. He loitered on the road till nightfall, when his master came up. The Herr Ausler, as usual addressed violent and provoking language to his steward, who, on this occasion, lost his self-control. From words they came to blows, and then followed a more deadly strife :-the steward was the stronger man of the two; and whilst his victim lay prostrate upon the ground, he seized him suddenly, and winding the long sash which he wore around his neck, put an end at once to his existence, and stood beside the body of his patron and master a murderer.

The wicked man retained self-possession enough to remember that these woods were notorious as the hidingplace for banditti; and perceiving the facilities that this circunstance would afford for his escape, disposed of the body as I have already described; stripping it-turning the horse of the dead man loose, and scattering his property in frequented parts of the road, knowing that a band of officers was then in pursuit of the robbers; and that if, as he doubted not, they should presently find the dead man's property, the tale of its acquirement would meet with little credence.

Fortune stood his friend in this instance: a notorious gang of robbers did pass that way; appropriated the prize which had been thus left in their way; and, as we have seen, were the next day discovered by the ministers of justice, who passed, and executed a summary sentence of death upon them.

Schreivogel fled to Vienna, to secure the will, which he knew to be deposited in the escrutoir of his deceased master. He saw at once what his only sure game was to be. He would keep this last will suspended in terrorem over the bead of the young man, for his own purposes;