"UBI MEL, IBI MUSCA.” No. 47-NEW SERIES.] SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 23. [TWOPE NCE. Every purchaser of this number of "THE FLY," is entitled to an exquisitely-executed Lithographic PRINT, "The Married Man," which is presented gratuitously.—[A similar print with every number.] WEBER'S LAST THOUGHTS. I'm bending o'er a stranger's hearth Alone in my decay, My childhood's home, my father land Is distant far away; I strive to chase the gloomy grief Oh, painfully and wearily, Unbidden tears will start, And cheering me again. Ah! my home, my home, my absent friends, I cannot throw from off my soul Its preying load of grief, But transient is my spirit's calm Farewell to all whom I have left, My childhood's home, my father land, EPISODE, DURING THE TROUBLES OF THE 28TH AND 29TH OF JULY. "The nightmare life in death, That thicks men's blood with cold!" Ten days after this occurrence, which the Revolution of July even had not made me forget, I was reflecting alone on those two rare qualities in a soldier-modest heroism, and disinterestedness; and among all the gallant men that have loved power solely for the good of their country, my thoughts rested at length on the brave Captain Renaud; when at the moment a man of tall stature entered, wrapped in a large cloak, that seemingly had done good service for the owner, and was much the worse for wear. By his grey moustache, and a deep scar impressed on his bronzed visage, I recognised a grenadier of company, and my intimacy with this officer being of some standing, my first question was his to ask if Captain Renaud was still with them, and by the gesture of the brave man I could presently see that some misfortune had happened. He sat down, dried his forehead, and when he had collected himself, with some care, but shortly, he related what follows: During the two days, the 28th and 29th of July, Captain Renaud did nothing besides marching in column along the streets, at the head of his grenadiers. He placed himself in front of the first section of his company, and went on calmly through a shower of stones and shot, which were propelled indiscriminately from houses, balconies, and windows. When he stopped, it was only to close up the ranks, opened by those who fell, and to see if his guides on the left kept their distance, and covered their file leaders: he had not even unsheathed his sword, but marched with his cane in his hand. His orders at first were implicitly obeyed, but whether the aides-de-camp were killed en route, or whether the chief of the staff had not sent them, he was left during the night of the 28th to the 29th on the Place de la Bastille, with no other instructions than to retire upon St. Cloud, and destroy the barricadoes in his way, all which he did without firing a shot. Arrived at the bridge of Jéna, he halted, and called over the roll of his company. He lost fewer people than any other regiment of Guards that had been detached, and his men were also much less fatigued. He had the art of giving them rest at convenient times, and in the shade during those scorching days, and of making out provisions for them in those deserted barracks vacated in haste, which the enemy's houses refused to supply him with. The appearance simply of his company was such that every barricado in his road was deserted, and he had only the trouble to raze them. Then it was, that, standing on the bridge of Jéna, covered with dust and shaking his feet, he looked towards the barriers, to see if any obstacle opposed itself to his moving on, giving direction for some scouts at the same time to be sent forward. There was not at that moment a single person in the Champs de Mars, except two masons, who appeared asleep laying along on their bellies, and a youth of 14, with a childish air, who was walking barefoot playing the castanets with two bits of broken delf. He loitered from time to time on the parapet of the bridge, now looking vacantly below, and then again came playing on, nearly to the spot where Captain Renaud stood. (Our captain at this time was pointing out the heights of Passy with his cane.) The boy still approaching nearer, looked at him with open eyes as in astonishment, and drawing from his jacket a small horse pistol, held it with both hands, directing it towards the Captain's breast. The latter turned off the muzzle of the piece with his cane, which going off at the instant, the ball lodged in the upper part of his thigh. John Cunningham, Printer, Crown-court, Fleet-street. The Captain fell on the moment, without speaking a word, and looked seemingly in pity upon this singular enemy. He saw the youth still holding the pistol in both hands, frightened to death at what he had done. The grenadiers at this time were resting in silence upon their gun barrels, they not having deigned to raise a hand, or make a movement against this (petit drôle) young madcap. Some raised up the Captain, others contented themselves with taking the culprit by the arm before him he had wounded. Hereupon the lad burst into tears, and when he saw the blood flow in a stream upon the white trouser of the Captain, he was overcome with alarm at the butchery, and fainted. They bore them off, the man and boy, to a small house near Passy, where they both were when I left. The column headed by the lieutenant had now marched on its route to St. Cloud, and two grenadiers having thrown off their uniforms, had staid behind in this friendly house to give assistance to their old commander. One of them (he who related the story) had got em. ployment as a working smith at Paris, the other as a sword cutler; both these men brought their earnings to the Captain, and in this way supplied him with all things needful up to this day. The limb of the unfortunate gentleman had been amputated from the first, but the fever ran high, and was of bad character, and fearing it might still increase, he had sent for me. There was no time, I found, to lose, so I set off at once with the worthy fellow who had made the recital, his eyes filled with tears, and his voice tremulous with emotion; still with out murmuring, without rancour, no abuse, and without accusation; contenting himself with merely saying "C'est un grand malheur pour nous!" It is a heavy loss for us soldiers. [The narrative here breaks off abruptly, and all I have been able to learn of this brave man's story, is, that he recovered from the effects of his serious injury, which for a time threatened his life; and with a modest pension from the present government, left the army, and now cultivates the arts of peace and concord, with that zeal and alacrity which marked the vigour and devotedness of his long military life.] THE LILY. The lily, a delicate lady THE MYRTLE. Green as Hope, before it grieves All with which its youth has parted. WOMAN. FROM THE FRENCH. F. E. L. E. T. He laid him down to sleep, and from his side And his first sleep became his last repose. THE PEASANTRY OF ENGLAND. The peasantry of England, The merry hearts and free; Worth all your classic tomes! The bulwarks of the soil! Oh, he who loves the harvest free, Will sing, where'er he roams, God bless the English peasantry, And give them happy homes! God speed the plough of England! We'll hail it with three cheers; And here's to those who labour planned, The all which life endears. May still the wealth of husbandry Be seen where'er man roamsA cheer for England's peasantry, God send them happy homes! A DUEL BY MISTAKE. corps of the army, without once hesitating, and stated the actual force of each of the corps, and their position. He walked rapidly up and down, or stood still before the window of his cabinet. He dictated with such rapidity that I had scarcely time to set down the figures clearly, and to indicate by abbreviations the notes which he added. For full half an hour I had not been able to take my eyes from the paper on which I wrote. I had no doubt but that he had before him the general table which I had given him; and when he paused a moment, and I was able to look at him, he perceived and laughed at my surprise. "You thought," said he, "that I was reading your table. I don't want it; I know it all by heart. Let us go on."-Count Dumas' Memoirs of his Own Time. THE POET'S BEECHEN TREE. (Concluded from page 178.) In the garden at Ardwall, there is a magnificent beechen tree, the age of which can only be guessed at. An hundred years ago, beech was little known in the South of Scotland, and it was not until about the middle of the eighteenth century that the proprietors of land became sensible of the many useful pro A Russian officer, M. le Comte de Rosma-perties of this excellent species of timber. nof, greatly resembles another officer, whose In ship-building it is found to be of the name is nearly the same, the Count Romanof. greatest use, it is well adapted for the millNot long since, going out of the theatre in wright's purposes, and in point of durability Germany, the first gentleman was elbowed by almost rivals the oak itself, if kept continu a French officer, who told him he waited for ously in the same state-that is, constantly him impatiently, naming the hour and a ren- dry, or constantly wet. Beautiful specimens dezvous. The count who at this time had a of this wood abound on the Earl of Stair's lady on his arm, imagined it was an affair grounds at Culhorn and Castle-Kennedy; and with some jeaious rival; and after seeing the I have been informed that still finer ones are fair one home, he repaired to give satisfaction met with at Bargally, the property of Mr. to his agressor, who at the first pass inflicted M'Kie, and more particularly in the vale of a somewhat serious perforation. "Before re-Palnure, the soil of which was so long provernewing the comba,t" said the Russian officer, bial for its sylvan properties, that it exhibited is it allowed me to ask, with whom I have an almost "boundless contiguity of shade." the honour to be engaged, and what are the wrongs 1 expiate without knowing them ?" You cannot be ignorant of them, M. de Romanof." "Eh Monsieur, why did not you explain yourself sooner ? Romanof left yesterday, for Warsaw." "Ma foi, I must set off tomorrow, to give him the coup d'épée, you have just received by mistake.” F. E. NAPOLEON'S TENACIOUS MEMORY. This organization, these immense preparations (for the Russian war), were terminated about the month of February, 1812. I had several times written from the dictation of the Emperor; and I had occasion to admire his inconceivable memory, and the precision with which, without having recourse to the lists, he bore in mind the effective force of the several corps, in order to determine the means of raising them to the complete war establishment, according to their wants. One day, having laid before him a general table which he had desired me to give him, and which he an through very rapidly, he dietated a distribution of conscripts, founded on this statement, of the effective force of all the From the best information I have been able to obtain, it seems probable that the oldest of these beeches have alternately greened and withered for a century or more, and perhaps an equal period has elapsed since the one at Ardwall was found merely a tiny sapling in a spot which it now, to a very great extent, covers and incommodes with its expansive shade. Be this as it may, it is certainly one of the goodliest trees of the kind that ever spread its ample boughs around, to mitigate alike the summer's heat and winter's cold, and in some respects is worthy to represent or stand as the patriarch of the whole tribe. Its height, I understand, is above forty feet; and, what is a great deal more remarkable, its branches, which are very nearly circular, and form one of the most delightful awnings imaginable, measure in circumference up wards of 180 feet. A tree so stately, and which, of course, yields no fruit, must be felt as rather cumbrous in a garden, by those who have no feeling for the picturesque; and ac cordingly, in the year 1800, the gardener at Ardwall, David Mason, exerting all his eloquence in libelling an object, the roots and branches of which were alike baneful-the THE BEECH TREE'S PETITION, fresh combinations for rich and beautiful effects. The philosopher might, at that simple grave, lay up a store of wisdom for himself, and the poet would feel a chord of enthusiasm awakened, inspiring him with many bright and gentle thoughts. Yet none among them all, even the greatest patriot who glories in the supremacy of England's power, could stand by that simple slab, without experiencing an emotion of saddening sympathy, which, however his political opinions may condemn him, will exert its softening influence, even among other and far distant scenes. At the head of the tomb a small geranium yet lives, originally planted by the hand of Madame Bertrand; but its leaves look withered and sapless, and the buds fall ere they gain vigour to swell into a maturity of bloom. An old serjeant, in charge of the tomb, acts as cicerone to visitors, and with the garrulity of age employed on a favourite and familiar subject, he loves to dwell on the peculiarities of the Emperor's habits and appearance, a theme which commonly finds ready and interested auditors. first by exhausting the soil, and hampering terminate the existence of the Beechen Tree." graceful fibre of the bending willows, afford the spade; and the second, by acting as a huge watering-pan, and distilling rain and dew to an extent that was felt to be altogether intolerable. As the man was quite in earnest, and had reason on his side, his master, though reluctantly, listened to his petition, and signed the tree's death-warrant. A few days subsequent to this, the ladies of Sir William Richardson's family, who thirty years ago resided at Ardwall, were visited by their neighbours the Misses Maxwell, of Cardoness, and while the whole party were walking in the garden, and commenting on the beauties of the beechen tree, Mr. M'Culloch informed them that it had been found cumbersome, and was just about to be cut down. The ladies were astonished to hear him say so, and exerted all their eloquence to dissuade him from a deed which in their eyes seemed a species of petit, if not of high treason against the majesty of nature. A cause which is pleaded by the young and the fair, cannot be said to suffer from the character of its advocates, and so many arguments were used, and appeals made to the sensibility of the lord of the manor, that he, perhaps, began to feel like the poet Shenstone, "For he ne'er could be true, she averred, That could rob a poor bird of its young; And I loved her more when I heard Thrice twenty summers I have seen NAPOLEON'S GRAVE, BY MRS. POSTANS. The tomb of the royal prisoner has been frequently described, but the philosophy of this lovely spot (if the idea may be allowed me) can be acquired only by personal visit. Its situation is exquisitely beautiful, and unlike, in its sequestered stillness, any other portion of this picturesque island. Such tenderness fall from her tongue." A respite was granted in the first instance, and shortly afterwards the highest poetic genius in the land was willingly exerted to avert the fate of the doomed tree. Among the party in the garden, there was a young lady, governess to the Misses Maxwell, and sister to the author of the "Pleasures of Hope;" and as she too was an admirer of the works of nature, she immediately wrote to her brother, related what was intended, and implored him to pen a petition in favour of the beechen tree. The poet complied, and almost immediately trans- When the agony of perturbed feelings mitted to Mr. M'Culloch the original copy of pressed too heavily upon the exiled Emperor's the following verses. But the hand-writing heart, he was wont to retire among the cypress was so cramp or hurried, that the latter found shades of this quiet dell, and with his eagle it difficult to decypher them, and it was not eye fixed upon the world of waters endeavour until the poem had appeared in the periodicals, to regain his mental equilibrium. Beneath and was admired and commended for its sim- this chosen soil does the frame now repose, plicity and sweetness, that he became aware once agitated by a higher and more ambitious of the mental calibre of his anonymous cor- spirit than ever ruffled the feverish world of respondent. The tree, however, was saved, human aspiration, and the bare and nearly and from its connexion with the poem became leafless willows wave slowly over a monumenan object of greater interest than ever. Total stone, ungraven even by a word to chrostrengthen the association, the verses were nicle who rests beneath. The long grass engaaved on a brass plate; copies, too, were waves in rank luxuriance around the grave, printed for private distribution, and a note and a hedge of gay geraniums shades the cool appended by Mr. M'Culloch, detailing very spring, from which the Emperor is said to have briefly the burden of the present rambling tale, loved to drink, after his varying walk over the and concluding with the following manly sen- exposed and sunny paths which separated him tence: Although the tree cannot be so from Longwood. 'Tis a lovely spot, and the lasting as the fame of HIM who composed its very breeze seems to visit it with gentleness, poetic, pathetic, and beautiful prayer, never- as if fearing to disturb the silence of the hero's theless, the present owner hereby fervently rest. Green slopes are gathered round it, and solicits his successors to let their tenderness the sunbeams fall with flickering dimness and taste be marked, by giving a life-rent through the shades of the cypress boughs, lease to this magnificent plant; or to spare which bend towards the dell; while every this little spot,' until the ruthless hand of Time, tree, and branch, and flower, every undulatwhich spareth not either man or things, maying variation of the verdure-clad earth, every · The direct distance from James Town to Longwood is not more than a mile and a half; but a wild and almost impassable valley intervenes, opening to the sea,, and running inland for about two miles, when it suddenly terminates at the distance of about one mile and a quarter from the latter place. At the extreme end of the valley, and sheltered by the high grounds that rise above it in the form of an amphitheatre, is the narrow bed were Napoleon sleeps. "Is the spot marked with no collossal bust, Or column trophied from triumphal show? -None !!! The grave is nearly east and west, and marked by three rough flags, about three feet and a half by two each, placed side by side on a level with the turf, which, alas for human glory, were taken up from the kitchen floor of the new house; these, together with a margin, about one foot and a half in breadth, are enclosed with a plain iron railing, about four feet in height, at the south-west corner of which, and at the distance of four or five feet, grows a drooping willow: it is at present in a state of decay, and could never have been a fine specimen of its kind, but i adds much to the romantic gloom of the scene; for its trunk inclines until it seems to rest on the railing, while its branches hang weepingly over the grave, and envelope it in a sombre shade. At the west side of the palisade, and close to it, is the little spring, whose refreshing influence made this spot the favourite retreat of Napoleon during the summers of his detention: its waters are pure as crystal, and cold as ice, and every visitor, whether thirsty or not, is expected to take a draught of them, for which purpose several tumblers are alwys kept in readiness.-United Service Journal. Those only deserve a monument who do not need one; that is, who have raised themselves a monument in the minds and memories of men.-Hazlitt. |