make him papillotes. But, if de fortune de guerre, de property of war, de décret, that I shall peris for you, Moli; you shall have all my little trésors; and I hope you will vip over de cinders of your maleroo loafer-les cendres de votre malheureux amant!"

And here mutual sobbings interrupted their louder effusions until they were at the gate of the hotel. Commodus Cannon was out, having gone to "take a turn in the rooms." Mrs. Cannon, somewhat to their surprise, they found weeping over her sins and a bowl of punch à la Romaine, abjuring all reformation under the spiritual guidance of a French priest, L'Abbé Caffard, a plenipo. of the Propaganda mission; but, as Molly and Lucy cared very little whether their mother turned or returned, Unitarian, Latitudinarian, Longitudinarian, or Anythingarian, provided she did not bother them, they withdrew to their chambers, to give vent to their grief, and, at the same time to ease their afflictions through the safety-valve of vanity by comparing the qualities of their lovers.

Shortly afterwards the chambermaid brought in a parcel, with the adieux of M. le Comte; which the girl could scarcely deliver from the agonized state of her feelings, as she expatiated upon all the qualifications of a beau jeune homme, with a mourir si jeune, followed by an hélas! that would have done credit to any French theatrical utilité. Molly was too much moved to examine the precious trust; a task readily undertaken by her curious sister. This was the more easily performed, as the sundry articles contained in the box were specified in an inventory, of which the untravelled reader may wish to have a translation. Here it is.

"Inventory of the effects of Charles Joseph Amé des Auguste de la Vesse, Comte des Oripeaux, Officer of the Legion of Honour, and of the Iron Crown, Colonel of Cavalry, &c. &c.

"1. A book, containing the journal of my amours.

"2. A key to decipher the ladies' names therein contained.

"3. The cross of the Legion of Honour, given to me on the field of Wagram, after having broken through 14,000 cavalry with my regi

ment.

“4. A bâton, taken by me from Vellington at the victory of Vittoria, when I pared the claws of the British leopard with my bancal.+

"5. A musket-ball extracted from my leg at Austerlitz; a musketball extracted from (blank) during the fatal retreat of Leipsic, occasioned by the misconduct of a drunken corporal.

"6. A nosegay given to me by the Queen of Prussia at Sans Souçi; and the key of the back-door of her aforesaid majesty's apartment.

"7. A pair of garters, given to me as a 'true lover's knot' by the aforesaid queen, they having fallen on her ancles when her calves were dispelled by grief à mon départ.

"8. A paper of poison (mort aux rats), which I fortunately took from the Polish Princess Ratowowwowsky, who was about to destroy her husband to follow me to France.

"9. The busk of her daughter, whom I carried off instead of the mother, but who was unfortunately drowned in the Bérésina.

• The French call utilités all the inferior performers who are compelled to perform any character,-to make themselves, in fact, generally useful.

+ Familiar name of the crooked cavalry sabre.

"10. 727 love-letters in various languages.

"11. 97 locks of hair-not the wig of a Dutch Chancellor,-given to me by his lovely young frau, as a token of her ineffable contempt for the old frump.*

"12. The spy-glass with which the Princess of Asturias used to look out for me from the windows of the Aranjuez Palace.

"13. Two front teeth of the Princess Hohenlinden, knocked out in a fit of jealousy by her barbarous husband; and part of her beautiful hair, which was cut off when she was immured in a nunnery for life.

"14. The veil of the abbess of St. Clara of Valladolid (gage d'amour); with the beard of the Capuchin friar who detected us (gage de vengeance).

15. The papillotes of the Princess of Hohenlohe, made out of her husband's prayer-books.

"The entire intrusted to the care, and sacrificed to the charms of the only person whom I ever truly loved and adored à la vie,-à la mort. Mademoiselle Moli du Cannon, Anglaise."

It may easily be imagined what effect this examination had upon the young ladies. Molly was dissolved in tears; while Lucy bit her lips in the vexatious apprehension that her lover could not exhibit similar testimonials of successful gallantry. Her only consolation resulted from some slight doubts as to the genuineness of these treasures. Examining one of the bullets, she said it looked very like one of her brother's dumps; having, no doubt, been flattened on a bone; and that she did not think he was so old as to have been at Austerlitz. Then she made various strange observations in regard to the other vulgar ball, of nameless extraction, during the flight of Leipsic: but love-true love is credulous, callous to advice, and heedless even of irony. Lucy, finding that her words were idle, thought it wiser to retire to rest: but jealousy, it is to be apprehended, cropped the poppies that might have been shed over her couch; while Molly Cannon was kept awake by the conflicting pangs of fear, hope, and despair. She was sitting upon her couch like an abandoned damsel of romance, or, perhaps, like the lady in Dubuffe's Family Souvenirs. She was silently weeping; but her streaming eyes were devouring the treasures of her lover displayed before her, and which to her were more precious than the most sacred regalia,— nay, than the oriflamme of France. Soon, however, her anguish was relieved. The clock had scarcely struck seven when the door was violently thrown open, and in an instant Des Oripeaux was locked in her fond embrace. He, poor fellow ! could not throw his arms round her swanlike neck,- for one of them was in a sling, stained with his precious blood, shed in her defence, in the cause of her honour. She looked an encyclopædia of human horrors; but he calmly smiled upon her, adding

"Dis is noting, my Moli-my vife-my ev'ry ting; but, de général, -ha! ha!-une-deux-ha! ha!-he do bite de dust."

However delighted Molly Cannon might have been, Lucy affected to be "mightily shocked at this untimely and unceremonious intrusion in their bedchamber, and forthwith sought to hide herself under the bed-clothes, ordering the count, in a subterraneous sort of

*The French term was cassé-dos, which I think the word frump tolerably conveys.

a voice, to "allez vous ong," but her modest wrath soon subsided when she heard the intruder tell her sister that on that very morning he and his dear friend, De la Blagne, would ask the consent of their amiable papa and mamma.

Mrs. Cannon, who had gone to hear early mass with Abbé Caffard, had returned to breakfast; and at the supplication of her daughters, granted her consent, provided that their lovers were good Catholics, and could show proper certificates of confession and absolution; while, to use her own expression, her daughters should decant their former errors and heresies in the presence of at least a bishop in partibus, — for such, it appears, was the Abbé Caffard.

It was now requisite to obtain the approbation of Old Cannon, who was at breakfast, writhing under the severe losses he had experienced on the preceding evening, when he, or rather the gallery, had detected two French sharpers "doing him," or "cleaning him out," at écarté ; and who, upon being taken in the fact, told the old gentleman that he should have to meet them the following morning to give them satisfaction. When Count des Oripeaux and his friend were ushered into his presence, taking them for the seconds, he trembled from head to foot; but when he was made acquainted with the business that brought them, his courage rose with his wrath, and he asked the bold intruders how dirty French adventurers could dare aspire to the hand of the daughter of an English gentleman, a magistrate, a churchwarden, a chairman of a committee? The count indignantly replied that it was doing honour to a shopkeeper, who ought to feel proud in cutting off a yard of bobinet for a Chevalier Français; and, moreover, that a current of the noble blood of a French count would purify a tradesman's puddle.

Cannon was wrought up to a pitch of frenzy; and, although little disposed to joke or to pun, roared out,

"Then, I'll tell you what, Monseer Crapo,

or whatever you are, Monseer count of Tag-rag-and-bob-tail, that you have counted without your host, and take this on a-count to settle the balance."

So saying, he pitched an omelette aux ragous, that was smoking on his table, at the head of the indignant count, who thought proper to retreat, exclaiming with much dignity," If you vas not de papa, de author of the days of Moli, you vas one dead man!” He had scarcely concluded the sentence, when a potage de vermicelle followed the omelette. It was during this interesting scene that the Misses Cannon expressed their readiness to follow their lovers as far as the antipodes, when certain words were dropped about fortune, and funded property, and cutting off to a shilling, and so forth; by which the Frenchmen learnt that Molly Cannon's fortune was in her own power, and derived from certain legacies; but that Lucy's depended entirely upon the pleasure of her crusty father. A light beamed upon M. de la Blagne, the intimate friend of the count, and he withdrew his friend to consult upon what was best to be done before they decided upon an elopement.

What passed between these worthies is not recorded; but the issue, alas! is but too well known. The conscience of La Blagne smote him. With penitential looks he sought an interview with Molly Cannon; he fell upon one knee, then upon both; then drew a pistol, (an amatory weapon without a touchhole made expressly for

disappointed and desperate lovers,) he then threatened suicide, homicide, or anyside, if she did not forgive him his base and atrocious conduct in aiding and abetting a deceit foul and infamous. He then confessed that he was not a soldier, as his mustachios might have indicated, and his swearing confirmed, but the eldest son of a calicot manufacturer of great wealth and renown; that his ami was neither a count, nor a cavalry colonel, but simply a melodramatic performer, enacting tyrants at the Ambigu Comique of Paris; that no duel had been fought for her; and that General Gongibus was no other than a billiard-room marker. That the supposed quarrel had been "got up" to produce" an effect;" and that the distinguished blood of the Oripeaux that had stained his scarf, had been obtained, en passant, from a calf's head suspended at a butcher's stall.

The only reply that Molly could make to this awful disclosure was to fall in a befitting fit; but Monsieur de la Blagne-whose true name was François Blageur,-who well knew that when a lady closed her eyes in a faint, her ears were more than usually open, whispered into one of them that he merely had paid his addresses to her sister, that he might have access to her, and glut his eyes upon her divine charms. When, perceiving that she remained silent, he loaded his pistol with half-a-dozen bullets and pellets, knelt down to say his prayers, and then put the muzzle of the weapon in his mouth. Seeing this Molly jumped up, and roaring " murder!" and "voleur !” rushed out of the room, leaving the disappointed Frenchman in utter dismay.

The first step that the indignant Molly Cannon adopted was to inform Lucy, like an affectionate sister, that De la Blagne had merely made love to her as a matter of convenience; that she had always been the true object of his devotions, and that he must really be a most honest and upright young man thus to have saved her from ruin and disgrace by marrying a strolling player; and, finally, (for Molly was a warm advocate of finality,) that she would send back to the wretch all his treasures and valuables, which she now dignified with the appellation of his "pitiful dirty traps."

It is difficult to say how this business might have terminated, and how far Miss Molly Cannon might have felt it incumbent on her to reward Monsieur Blageur for his candour (not, of course, to vex her disappointed sister); but women propose, and sometimes the public dispose. The fracas of this untoward event was even too great for Boulogne ; and, by the advice of Abbé Caffard, the parties thought it expedient to set out for Paris after a family council. The Misses Cannon concluded that they should all become wives of some nobles; their brothers, that they should move in a society, in which they could not have dared to thrust their provincial noses in London. Mrs. Cannon was anxious to behold the rites of the Roman Catholic and Apostolic Church performed in all its splendour; and old Commodus,-who had taken a vast fancy to écarté playing, (and who, moreover, had greatly admired a Parisian opera-dancer, who had been starring it" at Boulogne, on her return to Paris from a London eclipse in the opening season,) fancied that in the French metropolis he could afford to "do the genteel thing."

OLD MORGAN AT PANAMA.

In the hostel-room we were seated in gloom, old Morgan's trustiest crew;
No mirthful sound, no jest went round, as it erst was wont to do.

Wine we had none, and our girls were gone, for the last of our gold was spent ;
And some swore an oath, and all were wroth, and stern o'er the table bent;
Till our chief on the board hurl'd down his sword, and spake with his stormy

shout,

"Hell and the devil! an' this be revel, we had better arm and out.

Let us go and pillage old Panama,

We, the mighty Buccaneers!
Straight at the word each girt on his sword, five hundred men and more;
And we clove the sea in our shallops free, till we reached the mainland shore.
For many a day overland was our way, and our hearts grew weary and low,
And many would back on their trodden track, rather than farther go;

But the wish was quell'd, though our hearts rebell'd, by old Morgan's stormy

roar,

"The way ye have sped is farther to tread, than the way which lies before." So on we march'd upon Panama,

We, the mighty Buccaneers !

T was just sunset when our eyes first met the sight of the town of gold;
And down on the sod each knelt to his god, five hundred warriors bold;
Each bared his blade, and we fervent pray'd (for it might be our latest prayer),
"Ransom from hell, if in fight we fell,-if we lived, for a booty rare!"
And each as he rose felt a deep repose, and a calm o'er all within;
For he knew right well, whatever befell, his soul was assoil'd from siu,
Then down we march'd on old Panama,

We, the mighty Buccaneers!

The town arose to meet us as foes, and in order beheld us come ;-
They were three to one, but warriors none,―traders, and such like scum,
Unused to wield either sword or shield; but they plied their new trade well.
I am not told how they bought and sold, but they fought like fiends of hell.
They fought in despair for their daughters fair, their wives, and their wealth,
God wot!

And throughout the night made a gallant fight,—but it matter'd not a jot.
For had we not sworn to take Panama,

We, the mighty Buccaneers?
O'er dying and dead the morn rose red, and o'er streets of a redder dye;
And in scatter'd spots stood men in knots, who would not yield or fly.
With souls of fire they bay'd our ire, and parry'd the hurl and thrust;
But ere the sun its noon had won they were mingled with the dust.
Half of our host in that night we lost,--but we little for that had care;
We knew right well that each that fell increased the survivor's share
Of the plunder we found in old Panama,

We, the mighty Buccaneers!

We found bars of gold, and coin untold, and gems which to count were vain;
We had floods of wine, and girls divine, the dark-eyed girls of Spain.

They at first were coy, and baulk'd our joy, and seem'd with their fate downcast,
And wept and groan'd, and shriek'd and swoon'd; but 't was all the same at last.
Our wooing was short, of the warrior's sort, and they thought it rough, no doubt;
But, truth to tell, the end was as well as had it been longer about.

And so we revell'd in Panama,

We, the mighty Buccaneers!

We lived in revel, sent care to the devil, for two or three weeks or so,
When a general thought within us wrought that 't was getting time to go.
So we set to work with dagger and dirk to torture the burghers hoar,

And their gold conceal'd compell'd them to yield, and add to our common store.
And whenever a fool of the miser school declared he had ne'er a groat,

In charity due we melted a few, and pour'd them down his throat.

This drink we invented at Panama,

We, the mighty Buccaneers!