themselves with my affairs. Madame," I continued, addressing the proprietrix of Bellisle House, " will you favour me with a short account of this most incomprehensible transaction ?"

"All I have to say, Captain, is, that the woman Melville here, and Hookhem there, bolted during the night through a glass-door that opens on the lawn, leaving three weeks' board and lodging unpaid, and an empty trunk by way of a keepsake. The extent of her operations out of doors remains yet to be discovered. She has had two silk dresses from Gibbs and Green, and a ring and bracelet from Jones, the jeweller."

"I think," observed the sugar-boiler, "that a perusal of her own letter, will more clearly place the character of this worthless personage in its proper light." And he handed the interesting epistle of Mrs. O'Sullivan elect, across the table for the perusal of her lover.

I took the paper up. My feelings were those of a man suddenly paralysed. I turned a vacant look from the paper to the company, and observed that every eye was centered upon me. I felt my brows contract with anger, and my cheeks glow with the blush of shame-and certainly neither feeling was removed, when I read the following confessions of the fair levanter:

"12 P.M., Friday Morning.

"The clock has told the witching hour, and another day is ushered in, while in the solitude of my lonely chamber I kill the dull interval until Fanny gives the signal, in scribbling to you my latest adventures. my former letter I prepared you for a blow-up-but the discovery preceded my expectation-and at two hours' notice I am obliged to avoid a public exposure.

"To you, my dear Jenny, who are familiar with the private history of your friend, from the time I quitted the cottage of the old schoolmaster, my father, to become nursery governess to Squire Jenkins, until that Irish swindler persuaded me into an elopement, under the full belief that he was a captain of dragoons, even before the hair had grown upon his head again, after having been cropped when he was committed to the Penitentiary, I shall only observe now, that the adventures of the last month are equal to any which have marked my up-anddown history.

"Tired of a dramatic career and theatrical husband, whose blandishments in public were occasionally followed up at home by a sound beating or black-eye, I quitted Mr. Percival and a first line of barn-business together. By good fortune and fictitious characters, I got introduced to the household of the rich widow of Colonel Melville-and when that lady was ordered to the south of Italy, and in consequence broke up her establishment in England, I had risen so rapidly into favour, that, as a mark of high confidence in me as a paragon of prudence, to me the care of the cats and her extra wardrobe were entrusted. The former duty I performed by deputy-but to the latter, as the sequel will show, I paid personal attention.

"Mrs. Melville and I were alike in height and figure, and having selected the articles from her clothes presses that I required, I started for a Welsh watering-place to try my fortune, and, as I had borrowed the widow's wardrobe, I thought I might as well adopt the name. My success was as rapid as I could have hoped, for I speedily made conquest of

a country clergyman-and but for an unfortunate accident, bade fair to become mistress of the parsonage within the month.

"On the day that my clerical admirer had formally requested permission to pay me his addresses, the table d'hôte received an addition to the company. The stranger was a young man whose moustache and military carriage proclaimed him a light dragoon. He noticed me particularly from the moment he took his place-made anxious inquiries from his neighbour - obtained an introduction after dinner- and learned all further information from myself. I thought that on so slight an acquaintance his manner towards me was rather too easy and unreserved-and as the parson exhibited symptoms of jealousy, I determined to control my fancy for flirtation, repress the freedom of the bold dragoon, and, instead of losing the substance for the shadow, wisely secure the living of Bromley cum Bellington, and the Reverend Joshua Singletonbut fate forbade it.

"I had been walking in the garden, and was returning slowly through a shaded alley, when suddenly a man's arm clasped my waist, and when I started and turned round, the intruder snatched a kiss. It was the young dragoon, and however under different circumstances I might have encouraged a flirtation, the easy insolence of his conduct piqued my pride, and elicited an indignant outburst.

"What, my dearest aunt!' he exclaimed, ironically, ‘have you forgotten your nephew and heir-at-law? What miraculous changes a southern sky has wrought! You are younger by ten years, and-saints and angels!-you went to Italy with blue eyes and now you come back with black ones.'

"In a moment the truth flashed upon me--it was Frederick MelvilleI had often heard of him-a wild, dissipated young man,-and was completely at his mercy. Conditions were entered into-one was my immediate departure from Three days were permitted. It is enough to say that before one elapsed, from the reckless character of the dragoon, the parson saw sufficient reasons for declining the honour I had conceded. Melville, with his own wild military notions of honour, preserved my secret inviolably, and I left the hotel of as I entered itMrs. Melville-at least in name.

"I had failed in Wales, but why should I not succeed in England? I took an instant resolution, and boldly headed hither. I found no difficulty in gaining an entré to this establishment. One moiety of the company were Indians-their knowledge of the world must, therefore be postdated thirty years at least ; the other portions were cockneys, and they knew nothing whatever of aught that passes beyond the boundaries of Pimlico and Tower-hill. This general ignorance was favourable, but, as it proved, unfortunately, not a man of the gang could be turned to account.

"I may here connect my narrative by telling you that on my way to Leamington I encountered Fanny Meadows. It appeared from Fanny's story that I had quitted the stage in proper time. The corps dramatique, after a season's starvation, were scattered. Mr. Percival had been

sent to the treadmill for stealing fowls, and Miss Meadows, when I met her, was earning a respectable crust' as she termed it, by fortunetelling. I wanted a maid-Miss Meadows wanted a mistress, and in such relations we took up our quarters in Mrs. Screwup's boarding establishment.'

"My money vanished, and I decided, after a consultation with Fanny,

to victimise the tradesmen and levant. I did it to trifling account-a mere bagatelle-thirty or forty pounds-silks and shawls—but not a guinea. Landlady looking shy-washerwoman clamorous—when lo! a victim came."

I felt that I was about to figure in, and dropped the letter. Hang it! 'twere well to know the worst, and I continued the perusal of Miss Hookem's epistle.

"Matters were desperate-a general panic in and out of doors— tradesmen called thrice a-day-and Mrs. Screwup politely intimated that payments were expected weekly-Fanny agreed, at a midnight consultation that, in her refined parlance, we should cut our lucky' without delay.

"A visiter arrived-his place was opposite to mine at table-I saw the soft spot upon his countenance-played my good luck against his weakness-and, but for a miracle, would have succeeded.

" Will you start, Jenny, when I tell you he was your countryman-a regular Irishman-a great O followed by three syllables. Of all the spoons I ever met-of all the muffs I ever dropped upon, I give the palm decidedly to Captain O'Sullivan!"

The paper dropped from me--I pleaded guilty--a muff by every thing spooney! I turned a page. No use in following seriatim the pleasing details, but I culled fragments as I skimmed the writing with my eye. "Fanny, capital as the forlorn one, and my empty purse, although stale as ring-dropping, perfectly successful." A few pleasing comments on my character followed, and then came the action of the drama.

"All is packed-and Fanny has employed a poacher's tax-cart. It strikes one-Heaven send that she has not taken too much gin! That is a cursed drawback to her utility. How handy it is for midnight flitting to put one's loose things into pillow-slips! Heigh-ho! I'll close this letter-pop it into the next post-office, and prepare you for my re-appearance. I fear that Fanny has got lushy-and, if so, I'm ruined. No! sand against the windows! Herself and the poacher underneathall's right. Pleasant dreams to you, Captain O'Sullivan !

Mrs.

Screwup, I owe you three weeks' rent-don't you wish you may get it? Secure my old lodgings—and, when we meet, you shall laugh at a full detail of my Leamington adventures."

"And now, Captain O'Sullivan, as you and I are the chief sufferers, what course would you propose should be adopted?"

"I am of opinion," said the sugar-boiler, "that a personal description should be forwarded to the head office of police, and the fullest details given through the papers of the transaction."

"Excuse me, sir," I replied, "so far as I am concerned, I have no ambition to go the rounds of the press in company with Messrs. Gibbs and Green, Mr. Jones, the jeweller, and Mrs. Melville, or Percival, or Hookhem. Ah! Shawn Cruchadore!" I mentally ejaculated, as I hurried from the room, "your parting admonition was prophetic-if ever there was an ass in human form I admit myself the thing. To be fooled once was bad enough-but still the cook had a two years' character to exhibit—but to be done brown' by Mrs. Melville-a hybrid, between a strolling actress and a lady's-maid, without a rag of character at all. By Saint Patrick! it was a shrewd guess at the Welch inn, when they fancied that I would be the better for a keeper."

THE PHILOSOPHY OF WALTZING.

OUR age is unquestionably the age of rapid conquest and easy success. By means of clubs, of political unions, and of peaceful agitation, we have accomplished changes, which formerly the activity of a "long parliament" or the toils of a "hundred battles" would have scarcely achieved. The empire of man over matter has been raised from a slender and precarious tenure to a vast and proud dominion. We approached, and took at one bound the ramparts, behind which nature's most precious secrets lay concealed. The almost stationary circle of human knowledge has begun to vibrate again and to expand with renewed celerity, as if some fresh stimulant were at work in the centre. Gas, steam, electricity, have quickened the pulse of our political, social, and moral life. Every thing partakes of the magnitude and the rapidity of our enterprises. We speak, and the next hour shapes our thoughts into elaborate works, and sends them all over the world. Our streets are no longer lighted at night, they have become channels to a continuous current of blaze, we might almost say, they are set on fire. We travel no more, but we arrive. Force has superseded bulk, speed has destroyed distance, intensity has become the

master of extensiveness.

At

Thus a new Pantheism has been created by the intellect of man. every step we meet some new deity, to which we must yield perfect allegiance. But more skilful, or perhaps more fortunate than the race of old, we have peopled our Olympus with a most harmonious array of gods. We derive all our happiness and well-being, not by taking sides in celestial quarrels, but by strengthening peace in the great council of gods; not by inviting the exclusive protection of one of them, but by an uniform and equal homage to all.

The time has now arrived when to the rank and the honours of successful conquerors we must admit another aspirant to glory. This new favourite of fortune has imperceptibly worked his way to power, until the most independent and refractory part of our community has become his slaves. Though of a very humble extraction, he wields the wand of authority with the grace and the strength of his more ambitious companions. Scouted, dreaded, shunned, like a Pariah during his earlier career, he is now courted by the most fastidious, and worshipped by the fairest part of the community. His first appearance struck terror into the bosom both of weak and powerful, like the approach of the plague or the shock of an earthquake. He was to bring all the calamities of Egypt in his train. No surer sign of the near advent of the Anti-Christ could be found. The first apprehensions of the second Millennium could not be better shadowed forth than in the dread inspired by this forerunner of the final doom of the world. His very name, like that of Timour in the East, or of the Arab Tarik in Spain, served mothers to frighten their naughty children. But, like Timour, from an outlaw he became a mighty monarch. A prototype of Odin, he departed as an exile, and came back with the honours of a god. With the magnanimity of Louis XII., the triumphant monarch forgot the injuries inflicted on the aspiring pretender. And now he exercises a mild sway over all ranks of society, infuses order among the most discordant elements of life, conciliates hatred, reconciles foes, draws closer the ties of affection between friends, and renders even

love dependent on him for success. He has become one of our household deities. His fame is celebrated in poetry. From the poor organ in the street, to the mightiest band in the music-hall, all take his exploits for the theme of their song. All-low and high, wise and illiterate, gay and melancholy-all, all unite to proclaim the glories of the-WALTZ.

"Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz!" Thou hast infused new vitality into our existence, opened fresh channels to our thoughts and imagination, shed a sudden lustre over our darkening age. Indeed, without thee, our century, heralded forth by so many glorious events, was beginning to sink into the dusk of thick-gathering obscurity. The boons conferred on the human race by the great inventions of the age, have not come without a strong alloy of sad drawbacks. Ever-converging and all-absorbing intensity has destroyed the pleasing variety of form and the genial mobility of expansiveness ;-concentrated force has dealt a fatal blow to the freedom and multifarious agency of individual ingenuity, and the instantaneousness of speed has utterly annihilated the genius-stirring and mind-elevating incertitude between hopes and fears, the pleasurable dilatoriness of leisure, and the adventurous desultoriness supplied by distance. Hence mechanical improvements,-nail and screw inventions are springing up on all sides, whilst the spirit of chivalry and of poetry is fast flickering and wasting away its inspiring flame. The chilling influence of this tendency towards Lilliputian degeneration has already produced most alarming results. It is to be felt everywhere. habits and wants escaped it? Take one instance. introduced beehive proportions into our abodes. present day no longer measure by yards, but by inches. In those honeycomb cells there is scarcely elbow-room to move. With an admirable unity of purpose, we have fortunately suited our straight-laced and closebodied dresses to the exigencies of our salons; for one may well imagine what would be the fate and the distress of a Lauzun or a Duc de Richelieu, if he had to appear with his ruffles and his cocked hat, his rosettes and his sword, in a modern drawing-room, which, from the crowded state of pretty but pigmy furniture, affords no better comfort than the show-room of a cabinet-maker. How, in these mousetraps, the stately Pompadour, with her swelling hoop, could move, or the lovely De Sénanges, with her towering hair fabric, could stand, imagination is at a loss to conceive.

Have our domestic Beehive industry The architects of the

Statuettes, apt and worthy discovery of modern times, have superseded the colossal works of art which used to adorn our ancestors' halls. A statue of moderate size would now have to struggle for space with the very chimney-tops. A picture of Guido or of Murillo would cover and envelop in its ample folds the infinitesimal parallelograms of a modern mansion, sides, roof, floor and all. After all, Hahnemann and his homœopathic system have had greater influence over our age than we are inclined to admit. No wonder that this has also been the age of the greatest improvements in the intensity of microscopic power. It is only by the agency of the microscope that we can fancy ourselves moving and breathing with the liberty and ease of our forefathers. "Tout se rapetisse," says Quinet; "un génie Lilliputien prend la place des conceptions transcendentales; au lieu de l'epopée, l'epigramme; au lieu de l'infini, un atome." And what the French writer says of literature will hold good when applied to our customs, habits, and manners-Fuimus.