sion her beauty made upon me, that, stepping into the next room, I took my materials, and made a drawing of the placid and unconscious form so hushed and still. I look upon it at this moment, and fancy recalls the deep and unaccountable emotions that shook me as I made it. It must have been an instinctive But, to proceed, I saw but one figure in my sleep-the lovely, but unburied dead. I awoke-what could it be that felt so moist and cold against my face?-where was I?-what light was glimmering through the windows?— it was the break of day. Worn with fatigue, I had fallen asleep over my drawing, while the candle had burnt out in the socket, and my head was resting on the inanimate breast, which had been deprived too soon of existence to know the pure joy of pillowing a fellow-heart it loved. I arose, and retired to a sleepless couch. In the evening, while over my modicum of coffee, in came St. Clare. He appeared haggard and wild, whilst every now and then his eye would gaze on vacancy, and closing, seem to shut out some unpleasant thought, that haunted him in ideal reality.

"Well, St. Clare, what has detained you?”

"Death!" said he, solemnly. "The sole remaining relative to whom Nature has given any claim on my affections, is no more. A sudden despatch called me down to soothe the expiring hours of my mother's sister, and not a soul is left me now on earth to love, save Emily and my friend. I feel most unaccountably oppressed-a dread sense of ill pervades me; but let me hope that ill is past."

"Well, think of it no more," I replied, and changed the conversation. "I have procured a subject-female, beautiful and young; but I feel more inclined to let it rest and rot amidst its fellow-clods of clay, than bare so fair a bosom to the knife. It is well that the living hold a pre-occupancy of my heart, or such a beauteous form of death"

"This note has just been left for you, Sir, from Mr. Smith, who requests an immediate answer," said my servant, entering. I read aloud its contents :

"Though unknown to you, save by name and the mention of another, I call upon you, as the friend of one who was my friend, to assist me in unravelling this horrid mystery. On Tuesday, at two, my dearest Emily went out, with the intention of returning at four. Since that hour, I have been unable to obtain the slightest information respecting her. I have called in your absence for St. Clare twice; he was unexpectedly out. Surely I have not mistaken him! He cannot have filled up the measure of mankind's deceit, and abused the trust reposed in him! Let me pray you, for the love of Heaven! to give me the least clue you are possessed of that may lead to her discovery. "I know not what I have written, but you can understand its meaning.

"Your's, &c.

"JOHN SMITH."

Starting from his seat with the air of a maniac, St. Clare abstractedly gazed on empty air, as if to wait conviction. Too soon it came, and seizing a light, he dashed towards the closet where he knew the body was to be. For the first time a dark suspicion flashed upon me, and taking the other candle I followed. The face had been again covered, and St. Clare, setting the light upon the table, stood transfixed,-just as we feel the pressure of some night-mare-dream,-without the power of drawing his eyes away, or by dashing aside the veil, to end this suspense of agony, in the certainty of despair.

Every muscle of his body shook, while his pale lips could only mutter-"It must be so it must be so!" and his finger pointing to the shrouded corpse, silently bade me to disclose the truth: mute, motionless horror pervaded me throughout; when, springing from his trance, he tore away the linen from the features it concealed. One glance sufficed;-true, the last twenty-four hours had robbed them of much that was lovely, but they were cast in a mould of such sweet expression that once seen, was to be remembered for ever.

With indescribable wildness he flung himself upon the body, and embracing the pallid clay, seemed vainly trying to kiss it back to life. I watched his countenance till it became so pale, there was only one shade of difference between the two. In an instant, from the strained glare of his fixed glance, his eyes relaxed, and a lifeless, inanimate expression of nonentity succeeded their

former tension, while with his hand still retaining the hair of the deceased in his grasp, he sunk upon the ground.

Assistance was called, and from a state of insensibility he passed into one of depression.

All our efforts to disentangle the locks he had so warmly loved from his fingers were in vain ; the locks were, therefore, cut off from the head. Through all the anguish of his soul he never spoke; the last words to which his lips gave utterance, were these-"It must be so, it must be so." For hours he would stare at one object, and his look was to me so full of horror and reproach, I could not meet it. Suddenly he would turn to the hair, and fastening his lips upon it, murmur some inarticulate sounds, and weep with all the bitterness of infantine sorrow.

The reader will remember it so chanced, that I never was introduced to the heroine of my tale; but all doubt was now removed as to the identity of the subject for dissection with the unfortunate Emily Smith. How she came by her death was a mystery that nothing seemed likely to unravel.

Not the slightest marks of violence could be found about her person; the arms were certainly in an unnatural position, being bent with the palms upward, as if to support a weight; and seemed to have been somewhat pressed, but this might be accounted for by the packing of the body. All beside wore the appearance of quiescent death.

She was opened, and not the slightest trace of poison presented itself. Immediate search had been made for the men; they had absconded, and all apparent means of inquiry seemed hushed with the victim of science in its grave.

Some years passed-St. Clare was dead—the father of the unfortunate Emily was no more. Fortune had thriven with me, and being independent of practice, I had settled in the West-end of London, and married the object of my choice. I was soon occupied with the employments of my profession, and amongst the rest, that of surgeon to the dispensary.

Seven years after my first commencement, I had to attend a poor man who was attacked with inflammation of the brain. The violence of the disease had been subdued, but some strange wanderings of delirium still haunted him. In a paroxysm of this sort he one day exclaimed to me, as I was feeling his pulse, "Cut it off! Cut it off! it says so: off with it!" Paying no attention to this, I replaced his arm within the coverlid, but dashing it out, he seized mine and demanded, "Does it not say if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off?" "Yes, my man, but yours is a useful member; take my advice and keep it on."

"I will not; it has offended me, ay, damned me to eternity. It is a murderous right hand!" But I will not drag the reader through the incoherent ravings of guilty delirium; it suffices to say, that after some considerable pains I elicited the following story from him.

"It's just ten years to-morrow (that's Tuesday) since I was discharged from four months imprisonment in the House of Correction. I was then just twenty. In the same place I met a gang of resurrection men, and they said what a jolly life they led, plenty of money, and all that, when one of 'em told the rest he knew a better way to get the rhino quickly than what they did, and if so be as they wouldn't split, he'd tell 'em. Well, after making me take an oath (I trembles now to think of it) that I wouldn't tell, they let me into it. This was to kidnap all the greenhorns, that didn't know their way about town, and carry them to a house the gang had in alley, near Blackfriars, where they were to be suffocated, and sold to you doctors for cutting up. Well, it took a long time to bring my mind to such a thing, but they persuaded me we were all destined to go to heaven or hell, before we were born, and that our actions had nothing to do with it. So I agreed, when the time came round, to enter the gang.

"On the day we were let loose, there were four of us loitering near the coach stand in street. A gentleman was walking up and down before an inn, looking at his watch every now and then, and casting his eyes round to see if a coach was coming which he seemed to expect. Presently he met some one who knowed 'un, and I saw him take a letter and read it, and then say to the other

'I can't come this instant, because I expect a friend in half an hour, and must wait for her; but stay, I can write a note, and put her off,' when he stepped inside the inn, and came out in ten minutes, with a note in his hand. One of us had been servant in a cutting-up house in the Borough, and knowed him afore; stepping up, he asked if he could carry the note for him? The other was in a hurry, and said 'yes,' giving him half-a-crown to take it into the Borough, then got into the coach and drove off. Instead of going with it, he had larnt to read, and breaking the note open, found some lady was coming to meet the gentleman by half-past two. I tell ye what, my boys,' says he, here's a fish come to our net without looking for it, so we 'll have her first.' Shortly after, up comes the coach with a lady in it; meanwhile one of our gang had got another coach belonging to us for the purpose, which was in waiting; so the villain tells her that the gentleman had been obliged to go somewhere else, but he was an old servant, and if she would get into his coach, he would drive her to the house where the gemman was waiting to receive her. She, never suspecting, got in, and was driven off to the slaughter house, as we called it. She entered by a back yard, and frightened by the dark, dirty way, and lonely-looking rooms, and not seeing him she expected, she attempted to run off, but that was of no use, and taking her to a room for the purpose, in the middle of the house, where no one could hear her screaming, she was locked up for the night. Well, I was uncommon struck with her beautiful looks, and begged very hard" to let her go they said it would not do, because as how they would all be found out. So die she must, the next order they had for a corpse. That very night came an order, and they swore I should have the killing of her, for being spooney enough to beg her life. I swore I would not do it; but they said if I didn't they would send me instead, and, frightened at their threats, I agreed.

"In the room where she slept was a bed, with a sliding top to let down and smother the person who was lying beneath, while the chain which let it down was fastened in the room above. They had given her a small lamp in order to look at her through a hole, that they might see what she was about. After locking the door inside, (for they left the key there to keep 'em easy, while it' was bolted on the out,) and looking to see there was no one in the room, nor any other door, she knelt by the bed-side, said her prayers, and then laid down in her clothes. This was at ten-they watched her till twelve; she was sleeping soundly, but crying too, they said, when they took me up into the room above, and with a drawn knife at my throat, insisted on my letting go the chain which was to smother her beneath-I did it! Oh, I did it!-hark!" starting up, "don't you hear that rustling of the clothes? a stifled cry? no, all is quiet! She is done for-take her and sell her!" and from that he fell into his old raving manner once more.

The next day he was again lucid, and pulling from his bosom an old purse, he said, "I managed to get these things without their knowledge." It contained a ring with a locket engraven "E. S." and the silver plate of a dog's collar with the name of "Emily" on it; "that," he remarked, "came from a little spaniel which we sold."

I had made a finished miniature from the rough drawing taken on the first: evening of my seeing Emily Smith. This had been set in the lid of a snuff-box, and anxious to see if he would recognise it, I brought it in my pocket. After looking an instant at the contents of the purse, I silently placed the snuff-box in his hand. His mind but barely took time to comprehend and know the face, when flinging it from him with a loud cry, his spirit took its flight to final judgment-and I vowed from that day a renunciation of the scalpel for ever.

MONTHLY COMMENTARY.

OUR readers may be aware that there exists a stupid, coarse, illiterate periodical, published once a month, and called "Frazer's Magazine." We mention the paltry thing because it sometimes happens that lies travel abroad, from the mouth even of the obscurest liar, and the poor creatures connected with the Periodical referred to, have been pleased to render themselves contemptible by uttering several falsehoods respecting us. In one of these falsehoods it is asserted that Mr. Bulwer has "long anonymously edited the New Monthly Magazine." We will simply state in reply to this assertion, that Mr. Bulwer had not the smallest connexion, direct or indirect, with the editorship of the New Monthly Magazine previous to the November number; and that he had not even been a contributor to the work for several months anterior to the last. So much for Frazer's Magazine. The falsehood we have exposed is but one among many! What a pitiful thing is a work calling itself literary that seeks to delude the public by such poor frauds and despicable falsities-that panders to the worst of passions by the paltriest of means, and hopes to struggle into sale by the tricks of the swindler and the lies of the beggar. We heartily trust that this notice may encourage such enemies! in their abuse and their slander. "There are two ways," says a wise writer, "of establishing a reputation-to be praised by honest men, and to be abused by rogues." Whatever success we may have in the former mode of establishing a reputation, we are sure, at least, of success in the latter, so long as we are honoured by the writers in " Frazer's Magazine" with that "calumniation which is not only the greatest benefit a rogue can bestow upon us, but also the only service he will perform for nothing."*

THE RIOTS AT BRISTOL. BY AN EYE-WITNESS.-I happened to be staying in the neighbourhood of Bristol during the late occurrences in that city, and as an unconcerned spectator (so to describe myself) of the riots, from their first murmur until their termination in ruin and blood, I propose to give a sketch of the proceedings, as far as my experience extended. If I were to enter into a minute detail of all that I saw and heard, I should fill a volume; and, I am sure, that one which exhibited a faithful and unadorned picture of the scene, would be capable of sustained interest and amusement.

I had heard, some time previously, that the entrance of Sir Charles Wetherell, the unpopular Recorder, would be attended with tumult, and the appearance of dragoons at Clifton a few days before the event, confirmed the rumour that such an apprehension was entertained. It appears to have been the etiquette that this magistrate should enter the city in form, at five o'clock in the afternoon, attend

Some time or other, when we have nothing better to do, we shall for the honour of Literature, devote a few pages to the unburrowing of some half a dozen of these vermin -the Mactoddies and Macgrawlers of Mr. Frazer's fœtid Magazine, and we think we can promise our reader that he shall both ridicule and loathe ;-and while disgusted with the blackguard, he shall enjoy a hearty laugh at the fool. 2 Q

Dec.-VOL. XXXII. NO. CXXXII.

ed by the Corporation, and proceed to open the King's commission; but under the existing circumstances the usual hour was anticipated, and Sir Charles made his appearance at eleven o'clock in the forenoon. The danger, however, was not to be eluded by this feeble artifice. The cavalcade was attended by a mob, clamorous and violent indeed, but not differing in character from similar assemblages that I have seen at elections, and elsewhere. The personal safety of the learned gentleman, for which I had then no fears, was provided for by a strong guard of special constables. I was near enough occasionally to observe Sir Charles, in his progress to the Court-house: his demeanour was not, as represented by the newspapers, agitated; on the contrary, it was calm, unusually calm; the ordinary temperament of this comical functionary being rather that of a rage. The proceedings in the Guildhall were accurately detailed in the public prints. The procession from thence to the Mansion House, in Queen-square, was followed by the like demonstrations that had welcomed the Recorder into the city. When he was thus safely lodged for the day, it was reasonable to expect that the people (if it be not improper to apply so respectable a name to such assemblages) would separate; but as no motion of the kind was made, the constables, after some delay, no doubt considering it their duty, proceeded to disperse them. The mob were at this time packed in a dense mass before the Mansion House, filling little more than an angle of the great area. As soon as they were assaulted by the constables, a detachment rushed to the back, where there is a large deposit of faggots, with which having armed themselves, they returned to the square, where the constables were scattering the crowd in all directions. A smart, running skirmish now took place; but nothing resulted, beyond a few bruises and a broken head or two. The mob grew like the hydra's head before the staves of the civil force, who at length withdrew, just before dusk, when the power of the mob, like that of the crown, had increased, was increasing, and, with all due respect for the sovereign people, I must think, ought to have been diminished. At this time, I left the square, and on my return thither, between eight and nine in the evening, I found that mischief had commenced; the Mansion House had been broken into and the furniture destroyed; after which, the Riot Act had been read three times, and the military had been called out; the authorities having acted throughout the whole business pretty much in the spirit of the prudent person, who, after the steed had been stolen, carefully closed the stable door. By this time, although the Act had been thrice read, the mob had augmented in numbers, spirit, and determination, kept in check for the present by the dragoons, who were drawn up before the Mansion House, and parading the two sides of the square. They were assailed oy curses, loud and deep, with threats of the morrow, and with even substantial tokens of displeasure, in the shape of missiles, some of which told sharply and heavily. I could not get near enough to catch the words which Colonel Brereton, who had the command, used to the mob, therefore I will not repeat the language which he was reported to have uttered, especially as the conduct of that officer will become the subject of investigation. The proceedings of the first of the three days, as they have been termed, ended at midnight in a partial charge of the military, by which the mob were effectually dispersed, with the loss of, I believe, no more than a single life and a few wounded.

The Magistracy, who had for a week previous to the coming of Sir Charles Wetherell placarded the city with announcements of their apprehensions for that event, and had sent for three troops of dragoons-demonstrations which were supposed by some persons to be not quite consistent with "absolute wisdom"-and who had on Saturday-afternoon called out these troops, to expose them for six hours to the abuse of the mob-these discreet magistrates, on Sunday morning, after the Mansion House had been broken into, damaged, plundered, and attempted to be fired, thought proper to send away the insulted and brickbatted 14th, because, forsooth, they had become obnoxious to the people! retaining only a small detachment of the 3rd dragoon guards, whose conduct throughout this business will, I heartily trust, upon inquiry, be found to support their former character of a gallant and loyal corps. The Light Dragoons, on