"This is no time, Frogere, to waste in words: mine is the last friendly face you are likely to see for the rest of your long journey. The emperor, as you well know, is implacable in his resentments; you cannot hope for pardon: so make up your mind to bear your punishment like a man, and tell me what I can do for

Moscow."

you at

But the mind of the traveller was too bewildered to think upon any other service which his friend might render him, than the only one which his friend (like many other friends upon trying occasions) declared to be exactly the one he could not perform for him: it was to intercede in his behalf with the emperor. It was impossible :but for any thing else, he would "raise Heaven and earth”--“ go through fire and water," &c. &c. &c. And, truly, there were many other modes of service open, not the least important of which was the disposal of his property-for not one particle of it (save the wearing apparel already mentioned) had he been allowed to take with him. He had money and some valuable jewels: and provided nothing to his disadvantage should come out upon the examination of his papers, it was possible that those might escape confiscation. In that case, had he any friends or relations in France. to whom he wished they might be transmitted? In the event of a contrary result to the scrutiny, a vast deal of trouble would be saved to him and to his heirs for ever. No; he could think of nothing, he could think of nobody: his mind was all engrossed by the calamity which had befallen that one hapless member of his family who was at that moment on the high road to Siberia; nor was it capable of entertaining any other idea.

for

"Then said his friend, "I must think for you, and I must act you. Should your property, as I have said, escape confiscation, I will deposit it in safe hands, and on your return you can claim it."

"My return! am I not banished for life? Is there, then, a hope that".

"For life!" interrupted the officer; "do you imagine you are banished for life! Ha! ha! ha! No wonder, then, you are so grieved at your departure. No, my dear friend; and happy am I to be the means of pouring consolation into your bosom. Courage, courage, my dear Frogere! thirty years are soon over, and then"

66

Thirty years!" groaned the luckless jester-but there was no farther time for conversation; the fresh escort was in readiness; and the eyes of the victim having been bandaged as before, he was replaced in the carriage. His friend at parting kindly pressed his hand, and placing therein a small sum of money, whispered, "You

will find this more useful on your arrival at the place of your destination than you are now aware of. Courage! Farewell!" The blinds of the carriage were again carefully closed, the word to proceed was given, and away went the cavalcade, much faster than was agreeable to at least one of the party.

A Frenchman is proverbially the gayest creature in the universe, and blessed with greater aptitude than the native of any other country to accommodate himself to disagreeable circumstances. His language, too, furnishes him with a set of phrases admirably calculated to assist his philosophy, when assailed by the common misfortunes to which poor humanity is liable. He loses his umbrella or his wife; his dog is stolen, or his mistress is unfaithful; he is caught in an intrigue or a shower of rain, and he is speedily reconciled to the event by an "allons puisque”_ ora "c'est une petite contrarietc," or "un petit malheur;" or (if either or all of these should fail) by that last refuge of heroical endurance, the infallible "ca m'est egal." But a " Thirty years in Siberia," albeit it makes a promising appearance on paper as a title for a new book, is something more than a petite contrariete, and is not by any means egal; so that poor Frogere, finding that not one of these modes of consolation applied to his peculiar case, and no other source of comfort occurring to him, he unconditionally surrendered himself to despair. For many hours he rode on in total darkness, and in silence unbroken but by his own unavailing lamentations; for his guards were again debarred of speech, either to their prisoner or to each other. At length they stopped. He underwent the same ceremonies as before: his eyes were bandaged; he was led out of the vehicle; and when he was permitted the use of sight, he found himself in another miserable hut, drearily lighted by the flickering glare of two or three burning twigs of the fir-tree. Here another coarse repast was presented to him; and when he had partaken of it the escort was relieved by a party of fresh men, and again was he hurried forward on his journey. But upon this occasion the sound of no friendly voice met his ear-all were silent-all were strangers. As nearly as he could guess, he had travelled three nights and three days, with occasional halts, always attended by similar circumstances, when, on the night of the third day, again they halted. His eyes were bound; but instead of being allowed to walk, he was carried in the arms of his guards till he found himself placed on a wooden bench. Here he was left for several minutes wondering why the bandage was not removed as usual. Presently he heard an indistinct whispering. Footsteps approached him, his hands were suddenly seized, and bound firmly together. He tremblingly asked the reason of this proceeding. No answer was returned. Rapidly, but

silently, the upper part of his dress was loosened, and his neck laid bare. His heart sank within him. He began to doubt whether it was intended he should end his mortal journey by taking so cold a place as Siberia in the way. A word of command was given and he heard the clank of musquetry. The word was given to march! He was carried forward in the arms of four men; and as they proceeded, he heard the regular tramp of many footsteps before him and behind." Halt !"-He was placed on a seat-his hands were unbound-the bandage was removed from his eyesand he found himself--at the very same place, at the very same table, in the same apartment where he had cut his unlucky joke, the same persons being present, with the emperor at their head! His wild look of terror, astonishment, and doubt, was greeted with a loud shout of laughter-and Frogere fainted. This had been a sort of Tony Lumpkin's journey, for he had merely been driven backwards and forwards the distance of about half a dozen miles on the same road; and though computed by the standard of his own melancholy sensations, the time had appeared much longer, he had, in fact, been absent for but little more than four-andtwenty hours-the emperor, in disguise, being present at each of the stoppages. Though this was but a trick, the anguish and the sufferings of the object of it were real; and the consequence was a severe illness, from which it was long before poor Frogere recovered. It was, upon the whole, a piece of pleasantry which, however humorous it may be thought in conception, few would have had the heartlessness to execute but an Emperor Paul.

Some time after this the player was supping with the merry monarch, whilst at the same hour a trick was preparing of which Paul himself was to be the butt. Not long had they separated when the palace was alarmed. Frogere, with several others, rushed to the emperor's apartments, and there lay the imperial joker-a murdered corse!

DELIGHTS.

Rock'd on the salt deep
Into a sunny sleep,

And a dream sublime

Of the flow of Time,

Whose billows without number

Bear all things in a slumber

THERE is a mighty dawning on the earth
Of human glory; dreams unknown before

Fill the mind's boundless world, and wondrous birth
Is given to great thought; and deep-drawn lore,

But late a hidden fount, at which a few
Quaff'd and were glad, is now a flowing river,
Which the parch'd nations may approach and view,
Kneel down and drink, or float in it for ever:

The bonds of Spirit are asunder broken,
And Matter makes a very sport of distance;

On every side appears a silent token

Of what will be hereafter, when existence

Shall even become a pure and equal thing,

And earth sweep high as heaven, on solemn wing. [The Tatler.]

*W.*

*W.*

A GHOST STORY.*

"Is this a dagger that I see before me ?"

LATE one evening in November, a countryman was pursuing his way home, alone, by a road which lay across a lonely moor; and as he was somewhat superstitious, his journey was not altogether a pleasant one. Before he left the last village, he had taken care to fortify his heart with a few extra glasses of whisky, which had brought him thus far on his road without fear. But in proportion as his journey became more dreary, his fears increased, and his head, from the whisky and the night air together, became more and more confused. Indeed, as he himself afterwards admitted, he would not have known he had his head upon his shoulders at all, had it not been for a small empty barrel which he was carrying home on the top of it. The wind was blowing lustily, like a trumpeter on a horn, and when the countryman had come fairly into the open moor, he heard a peculiar sort of voice hallooing in his ear, sometimes on the one side, and sometimes on the other; a whew-whewing, as it were, which very much affrighted and bewildered him. He looked east, west, north, south; the moon shone brightly down; there was no appearance of any living thing within two miles of him. He concluded he was haunted, and he mistook the whistling noise he heard in the air, to be the humming, or rather the hymning, of the devil. He grew alarmed, the sound continued louder and louder, shriller and shriller, nearer and nearer; his blood ran cold, and he ran off; the sound pursued him, he stood still, all was still around him, save that infernal whistling in his ear. He looked up, half expecting to see some monstrous figure staring at him from above; the moon was shining forth in all her brightness-presently a thick heavy cloud passed over her countenance, and all was dark. At that moment the mysterious whistle was heard again, and the affrighted countryman perceived, or thought he perceived, as well as the darkness would permit, a tall spectre-like figure a few paces from him, staring at him with two terrible bright eyes, and stretching its long unearthly arms towards him. To add to his terrors, the bat whirred above his head, and the owl flapped fearlessly past him, so near as to fan his throbbing forehead with its wings. His knees knocked against each other and the barrel which he carried fell to the ground. The

* From "Odd Sketches. By the Author of Poetical Aspirations. Edin. 1831," 12mo.