to sail for the United States, until I received remittances from my friends there; and I knew that I could honorably discharge the bond I had given, by sending him the sum when I reached Philadelphia.

"You may easily suppose how this conflict ended. I went en board the vessel, which was to sail that afternoon, and endeavored to find a justification of my conduct, in the reflection, that almost no person in similar circumstances would have acted otherwise. The thoughts of the happiness that awaited me, had little effect in shortening the hours that were to elapse before we set sail. At last, to my great joy, the seamen began to heave up the anchor. I sat in the cabin, counting the turns of the windlass, and inhaling with delight favorable breeze that blew through the windows.

"In the midst of all this, the captain called me upon deck. When I got there, I saw the custom-house boat lying alongside, and the harbor-master, who stood in her, immediately demanded my passport. I attempted to answer, but my alarm was such, that I could not speak. He then addressed me in English, and I so far recovered myself as to tell him, that I had no passport, being ignorant that such a thing was necessary. "You must return ashore then," said he, "I must do my duty." I pleaded against this, but it was all in vain. He probably considered my agitation and distress as proofs of gilt and terror, and the captain himself seemed anxious to get rid of me. My trunks being lowered into the boat, I was obliged to follow, and the harbour-master ordered his men to row to the wharf.

"On reaching it, we found a crowd of people talking together, and among them I recognized the young Spaniard. He was telling the others, in Spanish, what a villain I was, and how I had attempted to run away without paying my debts. As the harbor-master had no accusation against me, he merely bade his men put my trunks on the wharf, and went away. When my treacherous associates perceived this, he advanced towards me, and after using some very insulting language, demanded payment of his note. My feelings were at that time too deep to show themselves externally. I opened my portmanteau, and counted out the sum into his hands, and having called a volonto, drove to the lodgings which I had formerly occupied.

At first the violence of my resentment against the author of my calamities in some degree prevented the invasions of grief; and the cruel exposure of my conduct, which he had made to persons who were ignorant of my peculiar situation, and who would of course put the worst constructions upon every thing, stung me even more than the disappointment I had suffered.

"Next morning I made inquiry at the coffee-house, and at several other places, if any vessel was soon expected to sail for the United States, and learned that there would be one in less than a week. My next business was to raise money to pay my passage. I tried various plans without success, till at last overcome with fatigue aud misery, I fell sick, and having no one to attend me at my lodgings, was conveyed to this house of disease. I am aware, that death will soon put a peried to my agonizing regrets, but you may well suppose, that I am little prepared to meet it; for the happiness which the fatal incidents just related have bereft me of, appears to grow more and more desirable as life ebbs away, and I would prefer the possession of her, whom I shall never see again, to an assurance that I should henceforth abide in the company of blessed angels."

My health being now re-established, I left the sick-house the following day. However, previous to my departure, I was informed of the death of this young American, and could not but reflect, with gratitude, upon any preservation from the fatal effects of a pestilence, which daily made so many per

sons its victims.

GIRLHOOD.-Let Lord Byron say what he will of bread and butter, girlhood is a beautiful season, and its love-its warm, uncalculating, devoted love-so exaggerating in its simplicity -so keen from its freshness-is the very poetry of attachment; after-years have nothing like it. To know that the love which once seemed eternal can have an end, destroys its immortality; and thus brought to a level with the beginnings and endings, the chances and changes of life, common-place employments and pleasures-and, alas! from the sublime to the ridiculous, there is but a step; our divinity turns out an idol; we are grown too wise, too worldly for our former faith, and we laugh at what we wept before; such laughter is more bitter-a thousand times more bitter, than tears.

THE WISDOM OF LAUGHTER.

BY HORACE SMITH.

"Let those now laugh who never laugh'd before, And those who always laugh'd now laugh the more." They have really brought puppet-shows to an incredible perfection. I have just been gazing upon one which infinitely transcends all the fantoccini, pantomimes, or dramas I ever beheld; the figures appearing to be actuated by human passions, and exhibiting in their looks, gestures, activity, and earnestness, such manifold tokens of mutual comprehension and intelligence, that were it not for the ridiculous actions they are made to perform, one might almost swear they were rational beings. Punch and Judy, even with the assistance of the Devil and Monk, must be totally superseded by this more numerous and complete exhibition; and yet the puppets of which I am speaking are nothing more than a little modified earth, of so brittle and fragile a nature, that they were constantly fretting away into dust in the very midst of their dancing and struggling, when others instantly started up in their places, capering or fighting with as much eagerness as their predecessors so that the whole pageant was constantly renewing its actors without the smallest change or intermis sion in the incessant bustle of the performance. Here and there upon elevated stools I saw a few figures with glittering baubles upon their heads, who seemed not only miserable but giddy and intoxicated by the height from which they looked, and took their revenge by instigating the whole rabble beneath them to worry and beat one another to pieces, which the senseless figures seemed to enact with a most preposterous alacrity. On the lower benches I beheld grave and reverendlooking seigniors in robes, whose heads were enveloped in the hair of some animal, most ludicrously curled and greased, and who were solemnly pronouncing sentence of destrucsion upon others, while they themselves were perpetually exploding into similar nothingness. Here strutted a gay figure in scarlet, who had not only sold himself as a slave for the honor of wearing a little gold ornament upon his shoulders, but suffered his head to be shot at as a target, and his body to be used as a sheath for bayonets, for the amiable privilege of inflicting the same treatment upon others. There I beheld a portly personage in sable robes, who took money from his companions for pointing out to them the way to the skies, while he himself kept constantly walking in a contrary direction: and in various quarters I contemplated certain old puppets, whom I took to be miners, as they labored so hard in piling up heaps of shining ore that it seemed to shorten their existence; when young ones ran joyfully up, and began kicking about the masses which had been so painfully accumulated. I cannot attempt a description of all the fantastical freaks which were exhibited; but I repeat that, with the exception of their actions, these ingenious puppets conducted themselves so exactly like rational creatures, that the absurdity of the whole scene, together with the contrast of their stupendous efforts and bubble-like existence, occasioned me to burst into an immoderate fit of laughter.

It was probably some such meditation upon the weakness, vanity, and inconsistency, the gigantic projects and pigmy powers of man, that kept Democritus in continual laughter, and enabled him to convert both kings and peasants into materials of risibility. Being once at the court of Darius, when that monarch lost his favorite wife, he promised to restore her to life, provided they would give him the names of three men who had never known adversity, that he might inscribe them upon her tomb-stone; and upon the prince acknowledging the impossibility of complying with his request, he asked him, with his usual laugh, why he should expect to escape affliction, when not one, among so many millions, was exempt from calamity? Here was philosophy as well as laughter; and indeed I doubt whether there be any wisdom more profound than that which developes itself by our risible faculties. This convulsion, as well as reason, is peculiar to man, and one may, therefore, fairly assume that they illustrate and sympathise with one another. Animals were meant to cry, for they have no other mode of expression; and infants, who are in the same predicament, are provided with a similar resource; but when we arrive at man's estate, (the only one to which I ever succeeded,) both the sound and physiognomy of weeping must be admitted to be altogether brutal and irrational. The former is positively unscriptible, and we should never utter any thing that cannot be committed to writing; and as to a lachrymose visage, I appeal to the reader whether it be not contemptible and fish-like, beyond all the fascinations of Niobe herself to re deem. All associations connected with this degrading pro

cess are hateful. Perhaps I may be deemed fastidiously sensitive upon this point, but I confess that I feel an antipathy towards a whale, because it has a tendency to blubber; I abominate the common crier, simply on account of his name; I would rather get wet through than seek a shelter under a weeping willow, and I instinctively avoid a birch on account of certain juvenile recollections.

"But hail, thou goddess fair and free
In Heaven yclept Evphrosyne,"

and before I go any farther let me observe how abundantly the Pagan heaven was provided with heart-easing mirth; for, besides the damsel we have mentioned, Venus is expressly termed by Homer the laughter-loving queen; the whole court of the immortals was often thrown into fits by the awkwardness of Vulcan; Jove himself was so fond of the recreation that he even laughed at lovers' perjuries; and Momus the jester, whose province it was to excite their risible faculties, was instinctively represented as the son of Sleep and Night, whereby we are taught to go to bed betimes if we wish to have cheerful and hilarious days. But in this our sombre and anti-risible age, it has rather become the fashion to attack laughter, notwithstanding the cowardice of assaulting a personage who is obliged to be constantly holding both his sides, and is therefore incapable of other self-defence than that of sniggering at his assailants. I am too old for laughing, they tell me; but it is by laughing that I have lived to grow old, and they may as well take my life itself as that whereby I live. "Laugh and grow fat," may be a questionable maxim, but "laugh and grow old" is an indisputable one; for so long as we can laugh at all, we shall never die unless it be of laughing. As to performing this operation in one's sleeve, it is a base compromise; no more comparable to the original than is a teeth-displaying simper to that hilarious roar which shakes the wrinkles out of the heart, and frightens old Time from advancing toward us. Fortune, Love and Justice are all painted blind: they can neither see our smiles nor frowns. Fate is deaf to the most pathetic sorrows: we cannot mend our destined road of life with a pavior's sigh, nor drown care with tears. Let us then leave growling to wild beasts, and croaking to the ravens, indulging freely in the rationality of laughter: which, in the first place, is reducible to writing-Ha! Ha! Ha! and should always be printed with three capital letters, and a prop of admiration between each to prevent its bursting its sides. (The very hieroglyphic makes one snigger, so festive, social, and joyous is its character.) And, secondly, its delicious alchemy not only converts a tear into the quintessence of merriment, and makes wrinkles themselves expressive of youth and frolic, but lights up the dullest eye with a twinkle, and throws a flash of sunshine over the cloudiest visage, while it irradiates and embellishes the most beautiful. Including thine, reader, in the latter class, I counsel thee to give the experiment a frequent trial.

It just occurs to me that I ought to have begun my essay with a definition of laughter and an argute inquiry into its causes; but it will come in as well at the end, and perhaps a hysteronproteron, in itself a common provocative of risibility, is more appropriate than any methodical arrangement. Lastly and imprimis, then, it is a great mistake to suppose that wit, which has been termed the unexpected discovery of resemblance between ideas supposed dissimilar, has any tendency to excite the giggling faculties. Quite the contrary: it elicits only the silent smile of the intellect-on which account (whatever my writings may testify to the contrary) I have no great regard for wit, for I love to laugh with all my heart and none of my head. Humor, therefore, I deem preferable tobut I am not proceeding systematically. Well, then, this convulsion is of three different kinds. Animal laughter, which

may be produced by tickling, or by that happy and healthy organization which occasions a constant flow of the animal spirits. Unnatural laughter, which sometimes accompanies the triumph of the most malignant passions, or bursts out upon any unexpected change of fortune, or assumes that ghastly smile or "jealous leer malign," designated the Sardonic grin, not, as a young lady of my acquaintance supposed, from the Sardones or people of Roussillon, but from the involuntary hysterical affection produced by eating that species of ranunculus called the Herba Sardonia. And lastly, (for the second time,) Sentimental laughter-a compound operation, emanating jointly or separately from the head or heart, and whose basis seems to be a union or rather opposition of suitableness in the same object, or any unexpected ludicrous combination.

I shall not notice the subdivision of sympathetic laughter, which is a mere infection; or of that which is stimulated by the consciousness

that we ought not to laugh, which gives a poignant zest to the ebulition, and reminds one of that profligate lover of pig, who wished he had been born a Jew, that he might have had the pleasure of eating pork and sinning at the same time.

Talking of incongruities puts me in mind of the steamboat, and of a conversation between two parties, one conversing of their children, the other settling the ingredients of a wedding dinner, whose joint colloquies, as I sat between them, fell upon my ear in the following detached sentences: "Thank Heaven! my Sally is blessed with a calf's head and pig's face."-" Well, if I should have another baby, I shall have it immediately- -skinned and cut into thin slices."-"I do -in the fish-kettle love to see little Tommy well-dressedover a charcoal fire." "To behold the little dears dancing before one-in the frying-pan."-" And to hear their innocent tongues- -bubble and squeak.""-"My eldest girl is accomplished- -with plenty of sauce."-"I always see the young folks put to bed myself- -and smothered in onions."-" And if they have been very good children, I invariably order -the heart to be stuffed and roasted, the gizzard to be peppered and deviled, and the sole to be fried." Broken metaphors are not less laughable than these ludicrous games of cross-purposes; and the risible public are much indebted to the Editor of a loyal journal, who lately informed them that the Radicals, by throwing off the mask, had at last shown the cloven foot; congratulated his readers that the hydra-head of faction had received a good rap upon the knuckles; and maintained that a certain Reformer was only a hypocritical pretender to charity, who, whenever he saw a beggar, put his hands in his breeches pocket, like a crocodile, but was only actuated by ostentation. While we are upon this subject, let us not forget our obligations to the country curate who desired his flock to admire the miraculous force which enabled Sampson to put a thousand Philistines to the sword with the jaw-bone of an ass; nor let us pass over the worthy squire, who being asked by his cook in what way the sturgeon should be dressed, which he had received as a present, desired her to make it into a-la-mode beef; and upon another occasion, when interrogated whether he would have the mutton boiled or roasted, or how? replied, "slow-and let it be well done." If the classical reader ever improved himself when a schoolboy by composing nonsense verses, it is possible that prose of the same description may produce a similar result, of which this essay may be considered an experiment. I know not a nobler or more naif self-eulogy than that expressed by Scarron when on his death-bed. He exclaimed to his weeping domestics, "Ah, you will never cry half so much as I have made you laugh;" and were I on the point of bidding adieu to the public as a scribbler, I should not desire a prouder epitaph than to be truly enabled to repeat the same phrase. In the mean time I do most seriously and sadly exhort my readers to be comical; admonishing them, that in these gloomy and puzzling times, when the chances are three to two against the landlord, when the five per cents. are fours, and things in general at sixes and sevens, a hearty and innocent laugh is the most effectual way to take care of number one.

PAGE'S SONG..... BY WM. KENNEDY.
The Baron is lord of a royal domain,
With many good lances his rights to maintain,
And gallant alike at the battle, or board,
He drains the last flaggon, he draws the first sword;
But, far above all, he's the sire of a maid,
Whose glance dims the flash of the Baron's best blade.

I serve not the Baron-I wait at the call
Of his beautiful daughter in bower and hall;
Aroused to the chase, by her palfrey I stand,
With hound at my foot, and with hawk on my hand,
And in festival-hours, the duty is mine,

To strike the glad harp, and present the red wine.
When near her, a thousand thoughts whirl through my brain,
Sometimes full of pleasure, sometimes full of pain;

I mark on the goblet, the print of her lip,
And kiss it away, as in secret I sip;

Yet I tremble to touch but her glove, and I sigh,
Like a sad stricken deer, when her wooers are nigh.
Ah! loud were the jest from the knight to the squire,
Did they hear how a poor silly page dare aspire;
But bound shall my soul, like a shaft from the bow,
Ere one, on the broad earth, that secret shall know;
Though hard still I'll think it, that beauty should prove
The prize of high fortune, and not of true love.

CLEOPATRA EMBARKING ON THE CYNDUS.

BY T. K. HERVEY.

Flutes in the sunny air,

And harps in the porphyry halls,
And a low, deep hum, like a people's prayer,

With its heart-breathed swells and falls!
And an echo like the desert's call,

Flung back to the sounding shores!
And the river's ripple, heard through all,
As it plays with the silver oars !
The sky is a gleam of gold!

And the amber breezes float

Like thoughts to be dreamed of, but never told, Around the dancing boat!

She has stepped on the burning sand!

And the thousand tongues are mute! And the Syrian strikes, with a trembling hand, The strings of his golden lute!

And the Ethiop's heart throbs loud and high
Beneath his white symar,

And the Lybian kneels as he meets his eye,
Like the flash of an eastern star!
The gales may not be heard,

Yet the silken streamers quiver,

And the vessel shoots, like a bright-plumed bird,
Away-down the golden river.
Away by the lofty mount!

And away by the lonely shore!

And away by the gushing of many a fount,
Where fountains gush no more!
Oh! for some warning vision there,
Some voice that should have spoken
Of climes to be laid waste and bare,
And glad young spirits broken!
Of waters dried away,

And the hope and beauty blasted!
That scenes so fair and hearts so gay,
Should be so early wasted!

CARTOUCHE,

THE BANDIT OF THE FRENCH CAPITAL.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE YELLOWPLUSH CORRESPONDENCE,' 'MEMOIRS

OF MAJOR GAHAGAN,' &C.

The lives of great men can never be too much studied, and in consequence can never be out of place. Having no better news for the week, I will take the liberty of confiding to you the biography of a celebrated individual, whose history I have been studying for the last two or three days.

Madame Sevigne has given a very lively account of the exploits of Monsieur Louis Dominique Cartouche, and in many other contemporary records, his name is mentioned with applause: in the present rage for Jack Sheppards, Oliver Twists, and Newgate literature in general, it is pleasant to look abroad for histories of similar tendency, and to find that virtue is cosmopolite and exists among wooden-shoed Papists, as well as honest Church of England men.

Louis Dominique was born in a quarter of Paris called the Courtelle, says one historian, whose work lies before me bora in the Courtelle, and in the year 1693-another biographer asserts that he was born two years later in the Maraisof respectable parents of course. Think of the talent that our two countries produced about this time! Marlborough, Villars, Marroquin, Turpin, Boileau, Dryden, Swift, Addison, Moliere, Racine, Jack Sheppard, and Louis Cartouche, all famous within the same twenty years, and fighting, writing, robbing, a l'envie!

twenty-eight caps belonging to his companions, and disposed of them to his satisfaction, but as it was discovered that of all the youths in the college of Clermont-he only was the posses sor of a cap to sleep in-suspicion (which, alas, was confirmed!) immediately fell upon him, and by this little piece of youthful naivete, a scheme prettily conceived and smartly performed was rendered naught.

Cartouche had a wonderful love for good eating, and put all the apple women and cooks who came to supply the little stu dents, under contribution. Not always, however, desirous of robbing these, he used to deal with them occasionally on honest principles of barter-that is, whenever he could get hold of his schoolfellows knives, books, rulers, or play things, which he used fairly to exchange for tarts and gingerbread.

It seemed as if the Presiding Genius of Evil was determin ed to patronize this young man-for before he had been long at college, and soon after he had with the greatest difficulty escaped from the night-cap scrape, an opportunity occurred by which he was enabled to gratify both his propensities at once, and not only to steal, but to steal sweatmeats. It happened that the Principal of the college received some pots of Narbonne honey, which came under the eye of Cartouche, and in which that young gentleman, as soon as ever he saw them, determined to put his fingers. The President of the college put aside his honey pots in an apartment within his own, and to which, except by the one door which led into the room which his Reverence usually occupied, there was no outlet. There was no chimney in the room; the windows looked into the Court too, where there was a porter at night, and where nobody passed by day-what was Cartouche to do? for have the honey he must.

Over this chamber which contained what his soul longed after, and over the President's rooms, there run a set of unoc cupied garrets, into which the dexterous Cartouche penetrated, and which were divided from the rooms below according to the fashion of those days, by a set of large beams which reach. ed across the whole building, and across which rude planks were laid, which formed the ceiling of the lower story and the floor of the upper. Some of these planks did young Cartouche remove, and having descended by means of a rope, tied a cou ple of others to the neck of the honey pots, climbed back againand drew up his prey in safety. He then cunningly fixed the planks again in their old paces, and retired to gorge himself upon his booty.

And now for the punishment of avarice!-Every body knows that the brethren of the order of Jesus are bound by a vow to have no more than a certain small sum of money in their possession. The principal of the college of Clermont had amassed a certain sum in defiance of this rule, and where do you think the old gentleman had hidden it?-in the honey pots : as Cartouche dug his spoon into one of them, he brought be sides a quantity of golden honey a couple of golden Louis, which with ninety-eight more of their fellows were comfortably hidden in the pots. Little Dominique, who before had cut quite a poor figure among his fellow-students, now appeared in as fine clothes as any of them could boast of, and when asked by his parents on going home how he came by them, said that a young nobleman of his school fellows had taken a violent fancy to him, and made him a present of a couple of his suits. Cartouche the elder, good man, went to thank the young nobleman, but no such could be found, and young Cartouche disdained to give any explanation of his manner of gaining the money.

Dominique's parents sent him to school at the college of Clermont, (now Louis le Grand) and although it has been discover ed that the Jesuits who directed that Seminary advanced him much in classical or theological knowledge, Cartouche, in revenge, shewed by repeated instances his own natural bent and genius, which no difficulties were strong enough to overcome. His first great action on record, although not successful in the end, and tinctured with the innocence of youth, is yet highly creditable to him. He made a general swoop of a hundred and

scrape there was no knowing how he would have escaped had not the President himself been a little anxious to hush it up, and accordingly young Cartouche was made to disgorge the residue of his ill-gotten gold-pieces. Old Cartouche made up the deficiency, and his son was allowed to remain unpunished -until the next time.

This you may fancy was not very long in coming, and though history has not made us acquainted with the exact crime which Louis Dominique next committed, it must have heen a serious one: for Cartouche, who had borne philosophically all the

whippings and punishments which were administered to him at college, did not dare to face that one which his indignant father had in pickle for him. As he was coming home from school on the first day after his crime, when he received permission to go abroad, one of his brothers, who was on the look-out for him, met him a short distance from home, and told him what was in preparation, which so frightened the young thief that he declined returning home altogether, and set out upon the wide world to make shift for himself as he could. Undoubted as his genius was, he had not arrived at the full exercise of it, and his gains were by no means equal to his appetite. In whatever professions he tried-whether he joined the gipsies, which he did, whether he picked pockets in the Pont Neuf, which occupation history also attributes to himCartouche was always hungry. Hungry and ragged he wandered from one place and profession to another, and regretted the honey-pots at Clermont, and the comfortable Soup and Bouilli at home.

Cartouche had an uncle, a kind man, who was a merchant, and had dealings at Rouen. One day walking on the quays of that city, this gentleman saw a very miserable, dirty, starving lad, who had just made a pounce upon some bones and turnip peeling that had been flung out on the quay, and was eating them as greedily as if they had been turkeys any truffles. The worthy man examined the lad a little closer-O heavens! it was their run-away Prodigal, it was little Louis Dominique!The merchant was touched by his case, and forgetting the night-caps, the honey-pots, and the rags and dirt of little Louis, took him to his arms, and kissed and hugged him with the tenderest affection. Louis kissed and hugged too, and blubbered a great deal-he was repentant, as a man often is when he is hungry, and he went home with his uncle, and his peace was made, and his mother got him new clothes and filled his belly, and for a while Louis was as good a son as might be.

But why attempt to balk the progress of genius? Louis's was not to be kept down; he was sixteen years of age by this time, a smart hardy young fellow, and what is more, desperately enamoured of a lovely washerwoman. To be successful in your love, as Louis knew, you must have something more than mere flames and sentiment-a washer, or any other woman cannot live upon sighs only, but must have new gowns, and caps, and a necklace every now and then, and a fine handkerchief, and silk stockings, and a treat into the country, or to the play-how are all these to be had without money? Cartouche saw at once that it was impossible, and as his father would give him none he was obliged to look for it elsewhere. He took to his old course, and lifted a purse here and a watch there, and found morever an accommodating gentleman who took his wares off his hands.

This gentleman introduced him into a very select and agreeable society, in which Cartouche's merit began speedily to be recognised, and in which he learned how pleasant it is in life to have friends to assist one, and how much may be done by a proper division of labor. M. Cartouche, in fact, formed part of a regular company or gang of gentlemen, who were associated together for the purpose of making war on the pub

lic and the law.

Cartouche had a lovely young sister, who was to be married to a rich young gentleman from the provinces. As is the fashion in France, the parents had arranged the match among themselves, and the young people had never met until just before the time appointed for the marriage, when the bridegroom came up to Paris with his little duds, and settlements, and money. Now there can hardly be found in history a finer instance of devotion than Cartouche now exhibited. He went to his Captain, explained the matter to him, and actually, for the good of his country as it were, (the thieves might be called his country) sacrificed his sister's husband's property. Informations were taken, the house of the bridegroom was reconnoitered, and one night Cartouche, in company with some chosen friends, made his first visit to the house of his brotherin-law. The people were gone to bed, and therefore, for fear of disturbing the porter, Cartouche and his companions spared him the trouble of opening the door, by ascending quietly at the window. They arrived at the room where the bridegroom kept his great chest, and set industriously to work filing and picking the locks which defended the treasure.

The bridegroom slept in the next room, but however tenderly Cartouche and his workmen handled their tools, from fear of disturbing his slumbers, their benevolent design was disappointed, for awaken him they did; and gently slipping out of bed he came to a place where he had a complete view

of all that was going on. He did not cry out or frighten himself sillily, but on the contrary, contented himself with watching the countenances of the robbers, so that he might recognise them on another occasion, and though an avaricious man, did not feel the slightest anxiety about his money-chest, for the fact is he had removed the cash and papers the day before. As soon, however, as they had broken all the locks and found the nothing which lay at the bottom of the chest, he shouted with such a loud voice, "Here, Thomas, John, Offcer, keep the gate, fire at the rascals," that they incontinently taking fright, skipped nimbly out of the window, and left the house free.

Cartouche after this did not care to meet his brother-inlaw, but eschewed all such occasions in which the latter was to be present at his father's house. The evening before the marriage came, and then his father insisted upon his appearance amongst other relatives of the bride's and bridegroom's family, who were all to assemble and make merry. Cartouche was obliged to yield, and brought with him one or two of his companions, who had been, by the way, present in the affair of the empty money-boxes. Cartouche never fancied that there was any danger in meeting his brother-in-law, for he had no idea that he had been seen on the night of the attack, but with a natural modesty which did him really credit, he kept out of the young bridegroom's sight as much as he could and showed no desire to be presented to him. At supper, however, as he was sneaking stealthily down to a side-table, his father shouted after him, “Ho, Dominique, come hither, and set opposite your brother-in-law !" which Dominique did, his friends following. The bridegroom pledged him very gracefully in a bumper, and was in the act of making him a pretty speech, on the honor of an alliance with such a family, and on the pleasures of brother-in-lawship in general, when looking in his face-ye Gods! he saw the very man who had been filing at his money-chest a few nights ago! By his side too, sate a couple more of the gang-the poor fellow turned deadly pale and sick, and seting his glass down, ran quietly out of the room-for he thought he was in company of a whole gang of robbers. And when he got home, he wrote a letter to the elder Cartouche himself, humbly declining any connection with his family.

Cartonche the elder, of course angrily asked the reason of such an abrupt dissolution of the engagement, and much to his horror he heard of his eldest son's doings. "You would not have me marry into such a family 1" said the ex-bridegroom And old Cartouche, an honest old citizen, confessed with a heavy heart that he would not. What was he to do with the lad?-he did not like to ask for a letter-de-cachet and shut hima up in the Bastile-he determined to give him a year's discipline at the Monastery of Saint Lazare.

But how tocatch the young gentleman? Old Cartouche knew that were he to tell his son of the scheme, the latter would never obey, and therefore he determined to be very cunning. He told Dominique that he was about to make a heavy bargain with the Fathers, and should require a witness; so they stepped into a carriage together, and drove unsuspectingly to the Rue St. Denis; but when they arrived near the Convent Cartouche saw several ominous figures gathering round the coach, and felt that his fate was sealed. However, he made as if he knew nothing of the conspiracy, and the carriage drew up, and his father descended, and bidding him to wait for a minute in the coach, promised to return to him. Cartouche looked out-on the other side of the way half a dozen men were posted, evidently with the intention of arresting him. Cartouche now performed a great and celebrated stroke of genius, which, if he had not been professionally employed in the morning, he never could have executed. He had in his pocket a piece of linen which he had laid hold of at the door of some shop, and from which he quickly tore three suitable strips-one he tied round his head after the fashion of a nightcap, a second round his waist like an apron, and with the third he covered his hat, a round one with a large brim. His coat and his periwig he left behind him in the carriage, and when he stepped out from it (which he did without asking the coachman to let down the steps,) he bore exactly the appearance of a cook's boy carrying a dish, and with this he stepped through the exempts quite unsuspected, and bade adieu to the Lazarists and his honest father, who came out speedily to seek him, and was not a little annoyed to find only his hat and wig.

With that hat and wig, Cartouche left home, father, friends, conscience, remorse, society behind him. He discovered, ( like a great number of other philosophers and poets, when they have committed rascally actions) that the world was all going