which he had greatly distinguished himself; but age and infirmities had compelled him to sell out. He was a widower: the late Marchioness, whose only crime was her nobility (being, as a Dame de la Halle, a lady in her own right), having been savagely slaughtered at an early period of the Revolution. The party was strictly a family party, there being no one present but the Marquis's two sons (the Viscount Fauxbourg and the Honourable Monsieur St. Antoine), and -oh-his only daughter, Mademoiselle Marie-Louise-Adelaide-Joséphine-Antoinette. The two cons were both well provided for: the elder, who for several years prior to the death of the King had been in the Corps-de-Garde, being now one of the Emperor's gendarmes, or, as we call them, Gentlemen-at-Arms; the younger having the post of a Commissionnaire in Paris. But, oh! my Marie-&c.! how shall I describe her! She was as lovely as an angel, and (as Sterne beautifully says of his Maria) of the first order of fine forms.'t Nor were her accomplishments inferior to her beauty, for, having been carefully educated in a French convent, she could draw, paint flowers on velvet, and play the guitar. An expression of melancholy imparted a peculiar interest to her countenance, for, though young (she was but eighteen), she had been unfortunate! Her infant son, Hector-Achille-Télémaque-Hercule, bore a strong resemblance to her; and, though the child was scarcely fifteen months old, its infant face seemed to reflect the sadness of its mother's.

"Dinner was announced. I have said that, except at great tables, a Frenchman's dinner consists (as it is well known in England) of soupmeagre and frogs. The Marquis's table was, of course, one of those exceptions. For, in addition to the two indispensables, there was a tureen of ox-tail soup; some boiled salmon with lobster sauce; an edge-bone of beef with boiled carrots and greens; a roast goose with apple sauce; and a boiled gooseberry-pudding: all served (I must, in candour, admit) in that perfect style for which French cooks are so justly celebrated.

"I ate but little, however; for as I gazed upon the fair creature before me I felt that our destinies were inextricably interwoven. Scarcely had I courage to ask her to take wine with me; nor was it till I had swallowed a few glasses, and endured the bantering of the Marquis and his sons for not pushing round the decanters, that I was even capable of uttering a few common phrases intelligibly. After a reasonable time, Mademoiselle Marie, taking the little Hector in her arms, retired to the drawing-room; telling us, as she closed the door, that she should soon summon us to tea. I thought I fancied, that she cast a look-no-yes-I could not be mistaken. But, at that time, I was young and handsome.

"Being left to ourselves, the port and sherry circulated freely. I ventured to inquire the cause of the dejection of the lovely Marie, and

* Sic MS. Taking this expression in its true sense, it would seem as if this gentleman had passed several years in the watch-house: I venture to suggest, therefore, that our author intended to write Gardes-du-Corps (the Life Guards)-a pardonable transposition.-P.

In a French translation of the "Sentimental Journey," which I have seen, this beautiful expression is thus elegantly rendered :—“ Maria était grande et bien fuite!"-P.

I think it proper here to mention that, amongst Mr. Watty Cockney's books, I found several volumes of modern French novels.-P*.

how it happened that Mademoiselle was encumbered with. The Marquis interrupted me by stating that at the same convent in which his daughter was educated there was a young lady of about her own age (sixteen). Between these charming creatures existed a friendship of the tenderest nature. The young lady had a brother (a Captain of Grenadiers) who entertained for her so affectionate a regard, that he allowed scarcely a day to pass without paying her a visit; and, as Marie and her friend were never apart from each other, it followed that upon all these occasions Marie and the Captain met. They saw-they loved. The Captain, a man of exquisite delicacy of feeling, and of scrupulous honour, made her proposals of marriage. The daughter, like a dutiful daughter, very properly referred him to the Marquis; and the Marquis, like a prudent father, desired the delay of a few weeks for consideration before he gave his consent to the union of the lovers. In the mean time the invincible flag of France-I now give you the very words of the Marquis, youngster," said Lord Mizendeck:-" the invincible flag of France waved in the air; the trumpet that never sounded but as the call to victory was heard; la gloire Française animated the bosom of the young soldier; and, with such noble ardour and patriotic haste did he rush to the wars, that the papa of the little Hector quite forgot to marry the little Hector's mamma. C'était un petit malheur' (continued the Marquis, taking a pinch of snuff), for the Captain fell gloriously in the first engagement; but his last words were, "Ō, ma Marie-LouiseAdelaide-Josephine-Antoinette! O, ma belle poulette!"-et cela était au moins quelque chose.'-and the Marquis took another pinch of snuff. He added that his daughter, inconsolable for the loss, had taken the veil, and secluded herself in the nunnery of St. Dominic; and, that she seldom quitted it, except on Sunday, for the purpose of passing that day with her family.-At a third summons from the fair mourner we joined her at the tea-table.

"It being Sunday, the remainder of the evening passed off in the usual manner that is to say, dismally enough. As there could be neither cards, nor music, nor dancing, the Marquis fell asleep, the elder son amused himself with a newspaper, the other took a prayer-book, and went into a corner. Though thus left, as it were, alone with the now idol of my affections, I had not power to address one word to her. At length she rose for the purpose of putting some coals upon the fire. I rushed forward to prevent her; and, in taking from her the coal-scuttle, I involuntarily pressed her hand.Fi, donc! petit polisson,' timidly whispered the lovely nun, and blushed. My fate was decided! The clock struck twelve, which was the signal for her to depart. I offered to see her safe home to her nunnery, and my offer was accepted. As the portals of the gloomy edifice opened wide to receive her, we remained for a few moments in silence, her hand clasped in mine. At length I requested permission to pay her an occasional visit. She made no direct reply; and never shall I forget the enchanting modesty with which, after some hesitation, she at length whispered- Mais soyez discret, mon petit Misdeck.' She rushed from me, and I soon lost sight of her amongst the labyrinthian windings of the cloister. Intoxicated with delight, I retired to my couch-but not to sleep."

Sept.-VOL. LIV. CCXIII.

K

CHAP. V.

Lord Mizendeck a constant Visitor at the Nunnery of St. Dominic— Growing Attachment to Mademoiselle St. Antoine-Tragical Event— Elopes with a Nun-Fatal Duel-Fatal Passion for the beautiful Donna Clara, another Nun-Its awful Consequences-Conclusion. "Weeks rolled on, during which time scarcely a day passed without my paying a visit to the amiable family the Fauxbourg-St. Antoine's Sometimes I would go uninvited and couper mon mouton with them, as the kind-hearted old Marquis would express it: sometimes I would look in at tea-time, and stay to a quiet rubber and a welsh rabbit. But -need I say it?-my steps chiefly directed themselves to the nunnery of St. Dominic, where I regularly dropped in once, and sometimes twice, a-day. Such, however, was the charming Marie-Louise-&c.'s regard to decorum, so rigid were the regulations of the place, that she never would receive me but in the presence of her Duenna, or of Donna Clara or Donna Louisa, two lovely nuns, her chosen friends, belonging to the same establishment.* At the commencement of our acquaintance Marie being totally ignorant of English, and I knowing almost as little of French, you will readily believe that our conversation was carried on not without difficulty. I, therefore, applied myself to the study of that language and, love-inspired, soon acquired that thorough knowledge of it which I now possess. Having been to every maison de jeu (playhouse) in Paris; visited the Jardin des Plantes, so called from its being the place where the wild beasts are kept; inspected over and over again the Musée Français, as the French call their British Museum; having, in short, exhausted all the vues de Paris, or sights, as we say, I had the more leisure to devote to the idol of my affections.

"Weeks, months had passed, and I began to consider myself rather as a regular détenu in France than a mere temporary visitor. My charming nun had entirely recovered her spirits, and the gloom of melancholy had fled from her divine countenance. I now resolved to make a regular proposal to her. This intention however, was for a time, frustrated by a tragical event which occurred in her family. Her younger brother, the Commissionnaire, who was unhappily addicted to play, went one night to a public gaming-house, where they were playing at three-card (unlimited) loo. He lost more than he was able to pay. In rage and despair, he first broke the tables, and then, drawing a pistol from his pocket, blew out his brains! The body was taken to the sign of the Rocher de Cancale; a coroner's inquest sat upon it; and the jury humanely brought in a verdict of justifiable suicide. The next night the good old Marquis, inconsolable for the loss of this, his best-beloved son, swallowed a quantity of burnt charcoal—a favourite mode of suicide in France-and died!

"Well, youngster," continued the Admiral, "when time, with balmy soothingness, had subdued the grief of my adored, I made her a formal declaration of love. She replied that she never again would not marry a military man. I explained to her that I was not military, but a naval Admiral-and, oh! extasy! she consented. The charming Donna Clara was in our confidence. From the first moment we met, a sincere

*Accurate in all things, even in his description of the rigours of a conventual life, one might be induced to surmise that our author had studied a certain learned work of Sheridan's, in which the same subject is touched upon.-P*.

friendship-not to call it by a tenderer name-had existed between us ;. and oh Clara!

"What now, Admiral?" cried I: "I thought all this was about Marie!"

"Messmate, messmate," said the Admiral, striking his forehead, "I was a villain. But let me proceed. The next day I obtained leave of the lady-abbess to take Marie (of course accompanied by Clara) down the river, to a little white-bait dinner at the Hôpital des Invalides, or, as it would be in England, to Greenwich. This was but a pretext. Clara presently returned to the nunnery, whilst my dear Marie and I went to Fontainebleau. This place I chose upon account of a lady, upon whose discretion I could rely, residing there-a Mrs. Casey, who kept the Silver Lion. Here we lived happily for about a twelvemonth. We then returned to Paris, taking her little Hector-Achille-TélémaqueHercule, and our little Eugénie-Pauline Aurélie de Fitz-Mizendeck, along with us. On the very next morning Higgins came to tell me that a gentleman wished to speak to me in the parlour. It was the Viscount, (now the Marquis) de la Rue-du-Fauxbourg-St. Antoine, the brother of my beloved.

"Admiral!' said he, fiercely, as I entered the room.

66 6

Marquis!' said I, in the same tone.

"That was sufficient. Fearful of interruption, we would not meet in Paris; but instantly took a chaise and proceeded post to the Bois de Boulogne, at which place, indeed, duels are usually decided. There we arrived early next morning. We went direct down to the sands-took our ground-fired at the same moment-both my balls took effect (for mine happened to be a double-barrelled pistol), one in the Marquis's head, the other in his heart, and he fell dead before me.

"I returned to Paris, and, with all possible delicacy, broke this unhappy affair to my poor Marie. With that deep feeling so characteristic of the Frenchwoman, she burst into a flood of tears, and, throwing her arms about my neck, exclaimed, O mon cher petit Misdeck, how could you expose you precious life? If my brodare had kill you, what would have become of your poor little Marie ?'-Alas! ill did I requite her tender affections. Within six months-oh! Clara! Clara! Why did we ever meet in that fatal nunnery ?"

"So, my Lord," said I, sternly, "for Clara you deserted her!"

"Abandoned, abandoned her! And, oh! horror! one night, one fatal night, a female was observed to precipitate herself from off one of the bridges! The next morning a body was seen floating down the Louvre-do not hate me, youngster—it was—i -it was my Marie-LouiseAdelaide-Josephine-Antoinette."

"And your infant daughter, Eugénie, &c.?" inquired I.

"For eighteen long years in vain have I sought her," replied the Admiral; "but I have a presentiment that this voyage will crown my efforts with success."

And, as the reader is already aware, it did. My wife's adventures may, probably, be given to the public at some future time.

P.*

THE CONVERSAZIONE,

ON THE LITERATURE OF THE MONTH.

The Rector. "The Spirit of the East," by D. Urquhart, Esq.-Mr. Urquhart is already well known to the European literati and politicians as one of the most accomplished Turkish scholars in existence, and as taking a peculiar interest in the political movements of the East. In these volumes he has supplied the British public with one of the most instructive and interesting works of his time upon one of the most important portions of the world.

The Colonel. Mr. Urquhart is at once a man of abilities and an ardent assertor of his cause. He is a philo-Turk. Ten years of Asiatic life, and a remarkably close study of Asiatic manners, have convinced him that the multitude of European writers absolutely know nothing on the subject; that the whole body of European readers are almost as ignorant as the writers; and that, if there be any shades in this general inaptitude, the statesmen who in the European cabinets legislate for Greece, Turkey, and Turkish Asia, are the most ignorant of all. In short, he boldly denies our competence to talk about Turkey unless we know something about it; a denial which, startling as it may be to the full-blown facility of modern universalism, we must admit to sound probable enough; and he further denies the possibility of obtaining any valid knowledge on the topic without a study of the Asiatic mind, even in preference to the names of the inns, the bills of fare, and the lithographed sketches of the hills and valleys. He charges us with a want of acquaintance with the language, the habits, and the modes of thinking; and, on the combined force of those disqualifications, says, that there never has been but one true English describer of Turkish manners, and that one, Lady Wortley Montague; nor of general Eastern manners but Mr. Lane, in his work on Egypt. The interval is long, and, if it has taken a century to produce the two works, the subject would seem either peculiarly difficult or peculiarly useless. But neither is the case; and the appearance of a powerful, vivid, and well-informed writer, like the present one, justifies hopes that we shall soon know more than our fathers of that vast "blue chamber," the land of the Ottomans.

The Barrister. The dreams of theorists may be justly neglected and the projects of politicians may often be left to hang, like placards on the pillory, round the necks of the culprits as announcements of their crimes. While only the theorists and the politicians turned their thoughts to the East of Europe and the West of Asia, their speculations might be either neglected as folly or rebuked as guilt. But a new impulse has set in towards those once illustrious regions. A power is breaking ground in that dry and deserted soil, which will turn its fertility up to the light; a strong, persevering, and systematic change is advancing along its forgotten rivers, and climbing its desolate mountains, and tracking its wild recesses, and covering the waters of its lonely and lovely islands; which, as it originates alone in the great interests of human nature, is neither to be misguided nor held back by the minor and transitory