of ships from all parts of the world therein safely sheltered, with huge buildings filled with divers sorts of worldly goods, was a marvel unto me. The house in which certain dues are collected for the man William, called King, is a capacious edifice, and that ancient structure, founded, as some affirm, by the pagan Julius, is curious to look upon. Nor must I forget to tell thee that I saw many of the friends, but they appeared too much occupied by their own affairs to regard the presence of a stranger, even though one of their own community. Now, with thy lave, I will somewhat repair my outward man, and give myself the benefit of an ablution, that I may not shame thee in the presence of thy brother, by soiled garments."

Scarcely had Phineas retired when Sydney arrived.

After many affectionate greetings, a few moments sufficed to inform him of the presence of a stranger, and that he must for a few days submit to a slight inconvenience.

"He is really a very well-intentioned young man, Syd, and you will oblige Papa by being as civil to him as you can."

"I'll do my best, dear girl, but I fear it will be difficult to win my way with a starched piece of morality such as I suppose this visitor of ours to be."

At seven the party assembled, the brother was introduced, and the social meal proceeded. Mr. Winter, supposing that the custom of challenging to take wine did not exist with the friends, filled the glass of Phineas, and drank his health, on which the young man, with a nod, replied, "I thank thee, friend Francis," and, after a brief pause, swallowed the Madeira. The merchant and his children "quaffed loving cups," but no attempt was made to induce the Quaker to fall in with the ceremonials of society; he was requested to take care of himself, and the trio vied with each other in sparing him even that pleasant employment.

It was quickly evident to Mr. Winter, that his boy had found favour in the eyes of the visitor, and before the evening closed, strange as it may appear, Sydney had extorted a promise from Phineas that he would accompany Arabella and himself, to see some of the sights of London, habited in a surtout, trousers, and hat, belonging to the young soldier. Many were Unthank's scruples at the first mention of such a profanation, but Bella brought the powerful artillery of her bright eyes and sweet smiles to play on the citadel of his heart (and, be it remembered, that heart was an Irish one), and the follower of Fox yielded at length to the joint attack of sister and brother.

The next morning, when Sydney, descending from his room, entered the apartment of Phineas, he found him standing before the cheval glass, and uttering doubts as to the identity of the figure he beheld attired in colours so much at variance with the sober tints of his usual raiment.

"By Jove!" exclaimed the soldier, "I should scarcely know you; that black satin stock gives a warlike air to your face, and my Nugees show off to advantage better legs than they were ever measured for-the coat fits admirably, and you have put on the hat with an air so jaunty, as though you were a born exquisite. Arabella will be proud of such

an escort."

At these commendations, our transformed youth blushed to the roots

of his hair-which, instead of being combed smoothly over his forehead in the ordinary mode, was arranged with such taste as would have made Truefit jealous.

"Ah, then, friend Sydney," began Phineas.

"Hold hard!" my dear fellow-friends we are, doubtless, and hope ever will be, but you must change your discourse to match your habitcall me Sydney,' and my father, Mr. Winter.' I'll dispense with 'Miss,' for my Sister, call her Arabella,' or 'Bella,' or 'my dear,' or anything else you like-but no thee-ing to-day, or you'll be found outand then I'll not answer for the consequences."

By my conscience, then, Sydney, I'm mightily afraid that I shall betray myself, why! so have a care of me, and I will endeavour to meet thy-your wish, and sustain this masquerade as the vain ones-I mean as you-we-call a change of dress."

"Bravo! well begun, i'faith! Now for breakfast."

Arabella could not refrain from expressing her surprise and delight at the metamorphosis, and they shortly sallied forth.

"Father," said Sydney, on their return, "we went first to the Museum, where Unthank astonished us by his knowledge of zoology, mineralogy, and all sorts of scientifics."

"Theest bear in mind," said Phineas," that we are not let studyprofane, I mane light arts and accomplishments-wherefore the useful and harmless occupy our minds out and out."

"Nay," laughed the brother," the marble antiques, and the beauties of our national gallery, elicited such commentaries of yours as convince me that, if you know little of the fine arts, you are no bad judge of the charms of nature."

"Commentaries ?" repeated Arabella; "I'm sure he did not say a

word

"For shame now, Sydney!" demurely tittered Unthank, "if the looks of me made what the poet calls expressive silence '—what harum? Arabella, why! if beauty unadorned dumbfounders me, at laste you'll own I was anything but too mute in Ragent Street. 'Deed, then, friend Winter, look where I would, into the gay coaches, or the shuperb shops, what would I see but iligant women? Och, the cratures! Short time as we stayed, my head was nigh crazed before we quit."

Mr. Winter was well pleased to hear that his young friend had been so much amused; and Sydney, desirous that the day should end as it began, proposed an evening walk with the somewhat bewildered stranger.

Without apprising him where he was going, Syd led the unsuspecting transformed to Covent Garden Theatre; nor was it till they were seated, that Phineas became conscious that he had entered the "Temple of Sathan." With a deprecating look he whispered to his mischievous companion,

"A theatre! I've put my fut in it! Sure enough we have a right to one such peep-therefore, since I am here and shall never visit it again, I may as well observe what is passing, and gather honey even in this garden of poisonous flowers."

On their way home some well-dressed ruffians attempted to hustle them and pick their pockets; Sydney was about to inflict summary

punishment with his stout cane, but the man of peace, mistaking them for gentlemen, interfered, and prevented his friend from chastising those most active in the attack. This annoyed the young soldier, forgetful of the real character of his companion; and, looking on him as one of his own age, blessed with thews and sinews, the disinclination to bring them into play on such an occasion somewhat impaired the good opinion he had formed of the young Irishman.

It was evident to Arabella that some cloud had passed over her brother's evening. Utterly unconscious of having given offence, the delighted Quaker was diffuse in his description of all that had happened during his absence.

"Now I'd heard, at home," he said, "that you say playhouses may be schools for mor'l, and 'tis thrue for you-I spake to ye all. That 'Gamester,' why! isn't a lesson?—Ah, the poor wife!"

"Yes," sneered Sydney, " this sensitive gentleman's sobs attracted general notice."

"Not more nor my laughter did at the briefer piece which succeeded, theest allow. I laughed till I cried. Great Charlis Kemble and little Kaly went halves in my tares."

Oh, Sir, I am quite ready to confess that your début as a man of the world created a great sensation. Its quality is another matter." "Its quality, if spread to Cork, would be inconvanient," resumed Unthank; "I pray ye, therefore, keep sacret my visit to the actors, by raison that my parents will be incensed, why! I desire that my father may belave my single privilege that way still unclaimed, as it would be a sore thrial for me to make my first play my last. However," he continued, "to-morrow I shall resume my own attire, and hope with it the even tenor of my way,' as somebody aptly expresses it in a fine pome." "You will do right, Mr. Unthank," replied Sydney, somewhat spitefully, “a broad brim and a formal suit I find become you best."

"Friend Sydney thee art somewhat out of humour; remember thou art a man of war, why! and that strife is part of thy calling: bear in mind that I am

"Rather backward in coming forward,"" interrupted the irrate solas somebody aptly expresses it in a fine pome." And he gave

dier, "

so admirable an imitation of Unthank's tone and manner that Bella and her father could not restrain their laughter, in which they were unaffectedly joined by the good-humoured subject of their risibility.

"Bella, dear," said Sydney to his sister the next morning," you will have to take care of our visitor to-day-I have an engagement, and, to say truth, after his showing the white feather so thoroughly, I've no vast ambition to offer him my arm; besides, fancy what I should endure if any of my brother-officers were to catch me in the fact of bear-leading a man with such a hat and coat! the thing's impossible!"

The handsome face of the young Irishman betrayed evident symptoms of delight when Arabella proposed a walk to him, and soon after breakfast they made their way to the Regent's Park. The opportunity of a tête-à-tête, as unexpected as agreeable, was not thrown away. Unthank at once declared his love for the fair girl, and used all the arts of persuasion he possessed to induce her to become his and "one of the faithful" at the same time. Arabella, with her usual frankness, assured the ardent Phineas that such a step was impossible; she could not resign

the gaieties of the world, however she might respect the sect to which he belonged; besides, whatever her inclinations might be, she felt assured that her brother would be adverse to the union.

"But if I obtain thy father's consent, why! surely thee canst overcome the objections of one who appears so attached to thee as Sydney Winter ?"

"You have not yet gained my permission to address my father on the subject, and I beg you to dismiss it entirely from your thoughts. I shall always feel an interest in you, but your education and early habits preelude the possibility of that interest increasing to the regard you would fain awaken."

Poor Phineas was sorely grieved at this death-blow to his hope, and, for some time, walked in silence by the side of her who had inspired him with his first love. As they slowly continued their walk a broadshouldered hulking fellow, laden with a basket of ashes, mounted his cart, and, at the moment they approached, deliberately emptied the wicker receptacle of its contents, so as to envelop the pair in a cloud of dust.

"By the-by thy lave, thee mightst have waited till we had passed, I think," said Phineas, in an angry tone.

"What for, I wonder?" asked the vulgar vagabond; "am I to stop my work for every puppy that passes with his gal? You're mighty particular, I don't think. I s'pose you fancy your fine miss's eyes are hinjured with a little hinuocent dust; let's have a look, Marm."

And the filthy lout laid his hand upon Arabella's veil, but, before his fingers had closed upon the lace, the intruder was rolling in the road. Phineas had given him so well-directed a blow that he fell like a lump of clay into his native element*." A policeman, who had witnessed the assault and punishment, requested the terrified Arabella to proceed with her courageous friend, and the man of mud was conveyed in his own cart to the station-house.

"That day they walked no more," save homeward, and Arabella "gave such a blushing cital" of Unthank's gallantry and prowess, that the old merchant overwhelmed him with praise, and Sydney nearly shook his hand off, calling him his "glorious Quaker," his " magnanimous Phin," his "most courageous of friends."

"I'd like well thy calling me brother, friend Sydney," said Unthank, with marked emphasis and manner.

Sydney stared. Before the evening waned, however, the fond youth had made him the confidant of his love, and, to his unexpected joy, received an assurance that no obstacle would arise on his part.

The few days that remained of his stay were not idle ones with Unthank; he pleaded his suit with great eloquence, and Arabella confessed that the only barrier to her acceptation of him was his being a Quaker. The day of his departure arrived, and he took leave of the Winters in so melancholy a mood as to excite their warmest sympathies. Months rolled on every letter from the respectable firm of "Unthank, Ash, Fry, and Co.," brought a few lines addressed to Arabella from her desponding swain. Suddenly these letters ceased, and

* As rivers are so called to ships, I hope mud and dust may be allowable on the same principle.

Oct.-VOL. LIV. NO. CCXIV.

R

Mr. Winter was somewhat surprised that his old correspondents no longer transacted business with him.

It was nearly a year from the time Phineas had left, that one morning Arabella observed a handsome chariot stop at her door, and in a few moments "Mr. Unthank" was announced. Attired in a suit of mourning of the most aristocratic cut, the young Irishman rushed, rather than walked, into the room.

"Arabella, my darling heart!" he exclaimed," do you remember me? why! No longer a friend, but I hope an accepted lover. My worthy old father is no more; he has left me a good fortune, and his permission to withdraw from the firm and the meeting-house. I have been for some months settling his affairs. I am now my own master, with fifteen thousand a-year; say, may I hope ?"

But we will not delay the conclusion of our story by scenes of lovemaking; suffice it now to say, that, in a few weeks, Arabella became Mrs. Unthank-that, accompanied by Sydney, "the happy pair visited Switzerland and Italy, and on their return to town one of the first arrangements made by Phineas was to purchase a private box at Covent Garden Theatre.

BENSON E. HILL.

SOME ACCOUNT OF A STAGE DEVIL.

BY HENRY BROWNRIGG, ESQ.

THE " principle of evil," as commonly embodied in the theatre, has been a sorry affair;-the stage devil, in a word, a shabby person. From the time of the Mysteries at Coventry to the melo-dramas of the phosphoric pen of the blue-fire dramatist, the father of iniquity has made his appearance in a manner more provocative of contempt than of fear; a candidate for our smiles, rather than a thing of terrors: we have chuckled, where we should have shuddered.

That the stage-devil should have been so commonplace an individual, when there were devils innumerable wherefrom an admirable selection of demons might be "constantly on hand," made it the more inexcusable on the part of those gentlemen invested with the power of administering to, and in some measure forming, public taste. What a catalogue of devils may be found in the Fathers! Let us particularise a few from the thousands of demons with which the benevolent imaginations of our ancestors have peopled the air, the earth, and the flood. Poor humanity stands aghast at the fearful odds of spiritual influences arrayed against it; for it is the fixed opinion of Paracelsus, that "the air is not so full of flies in summer, as it is at all times of invisible devils:" whilst another philosopher declares that there is "not so much as an hairbreadth empty in earth or in waters, above or under the earth!" Cornelius Agrippa has carefully classified devils, making them of nine orders. The first are the false gods adored at Delphos and elsewhere in various idols, having for their captain, Beelzebub; the second rank is of "lyars and equivocators," as Apollo-poor Apollo!" and the like;" the third are vessels of anger, inventors of all mischief," and their