looks sweeter then, than ever. The demoiselle in her boa, with her muff and fur-shoes, presents a picture of warmth and comfort, that you cannot too much admire. At this season perhaps in this I am peculiar-high mountains are a feeling.' How I should liked to have been with Napoleon, when he crossed those wintry Alps! - to have shared in the excitement - the danger - the triumph! Never, in all his brilliant career, did he perform an act more sublime and powerful, in my eyes. This alone, had he achieved nothing more, would have stamped him the greatest Captain of his age.

APPROPOS of Napoleon. I remember hearing from somebody, or reading in some book, or pamphlet, or newspaper - bear with me, kind reader, in this incertitude, for I have forgotten all the particulars-an anecdote of him, that seems to me worth preserving or perhaps I should rather say, rescuing - from the oblivion to which it is rapidly hastening. It finely illustrates one portion of his infinitely-diversified character; and I marvel that it has escaped the notice or the researches of all his biographers, eulogists, critics, and censors. I must be forgiven, if, in recalling it, I should be guilty of a lapse from historical accuracy: I am a sad bungler at dates, and my library boasts not a Chronology.'

Thus ran the tale. One of the deténûs, whom the abrupt resumption of hostilities after the short peace of- Tilsit, was it?-found a wanderer upon the French soil, for his greater misfortune, was an Englishman of large fortune, and some rank above that of a mere private gentleman - but whether knight, baron, or baronet, is more than I can remember. He was a widower, with an only child, a daughter. He had become personally known to the Emperor, when First Consul, and a certain degree of friendship had sprung up between them. This friendship was in some sort renewed, when the Englishman became an involuntary resident of the French capital; the rigors of detention and surveillance were much softened in his behalf, and he was often a partaker of the Emperor's hospitality - not indeed at the formal levées and soirées of the palace, but in private and familiar visits, of which Napoleon was fond, and to the enjoyment of which he appropriated as much of his time, as could be spared from the immense number and magnitude of his burdensome imperial occupations. The Englishman was discreet, and the monarch condescending; their tête-a-têtes were, therefore, not infrequent, and both parties seemed to take pleasure in their repetition.

The child of the Englishman had been placed at a school in one of the provincial towns; but he solicited and obtained from his imperial friend permission for her to join him at Paris. He received intelligence of her setting out, accompanied by a faithful domestic; but days passed away, and she came not to lighten his solitude. His anxiety and alarm gained strength, day after day, until at length they drove him almost to frenzy. He implored leave to proceed in search of her, and it was granted; but the search proved unavailing. He was enabled to trace her some distance on her journey to the capital, but at a certain point, all indications disappeared, and he was driven to the miserable conviction that, in some mysterious and unaccountable manner, she had perished. He returned to Paris, almost heart-broken.

The morning after his arrival, he was astonished by a sudden visit from an officer, at the head of a body of gens-d'armes, who arrested him in the name of the Emperor. His first emotion was astonishment — his second indignation; and this was not a little heightened, when the officer, with an unusual degree of harshness and brusquerie, announced to him that he was accused of conspiring against the life of the Emperor, and that he was to be confined, en secret, until the day of his trial before a military commission.

His temper was naturally quick and ardent, and it vented itself in reproaches, exclamations, and perhaps a few oaths-but as they were uttered in English, they seemed to produce no effect on the officer. He was placed in a carriage - the blinds were drawn - and the horses started at full speed.

After riding some distance, but in what direction the prisoner could not determine, by reason of the closeness of the vehicle, it stopped suddenly a bandage was drawn over his eyes, and he was led into some building; but whether the Conciergerie, or the Bicêtre, he could only conjecture. After traversing various passages, in silence, but brooding over his wrongs, and almost bursting with indignation, his progress was arrested, the blind was removed from his eyes, and he found himself in presence of his friend, the Emperor. His first glance conveyed mere wonder; but those which followed it, were glowing with anger, which increased at every moment. The brow of Napoleon wore a gloomy frown, but the heart of the Englishman was too full of wrath to quail even before that fearful sign; it was but reflected from his own bold front. Tyrant!' he exclaimed- but before he could add another word, a door was flung open, and his blooming child bounded, all life and loveliness, into his arms. Amazement and happiness made him dumb; and Napoleon, smiling as none but him could smile, turned to leave the room, with the single remark: Joy and surprise would have turned your brain; it was better to prepare you for the shock, by rousing you to anger.'

The surpassing skill of Fouché's myrmidons had been called into employment by the Emperor's command, and had succeeded in discovering the child, but how, or where, I have forgotten.

POOR NAPOLEON! I can never think of his brilliant career, and desolate end, without feeling the sublimity of Massillon's ejaculation over the dead body of his monarch, as it lay in state before him, in the church of Notre Dame GOD alone is great! He commissions Death, with his cold shaft, and the mighty are fallen. The cemetery is sublimer than the battle, or the coronation. There speaks a power which is beyond all others; there, in the rustling grass, or whisper of the cypress, we hear the knell of nations, and the prophecy of that to which they all must come - to dust and silence! I am tempted, here, to transcribe one of the noblest poems ever written in our language. It may be familiar to some of my readers, but it is worth a hundred perusals; while to those who have never seen it, I convey a treasure and a talismana memento mori. The author, Herbert Knowles, wrote it

Shortly

at twilight, in the church-yard of Richmond, England. afterward, he died and was buried,' in the flower of his manhood.

THE DEAD.

'METHINKS it is good to be here if thou wilt, let us build three tabernacles; one for thee, one for Moser, and one for Elias.'

she forgets

The charm that she wielded before;

Nor knows the foul worm, that he frets

The skin that, but yesterday, fools could adore,
For the smoothness it held, or the tint that it wore.

Shall we build to the purple of Pride,

To the trappings that dizen the proud?

Alas! they are all laid aside;

For here's neither wealth nor adornment allow'd,
Save the long winding sheet, and the fringe of the shroud.

Unto Riches? Alas!-'tis in vain ;

Who here in their turns have been hid,

Their wealth is all squandered again;

And here in the grave are all metals forbid,

Save the tinsel that shines on the dark coffin-lid.

To the pleasures that Mirth can afford?

The revel- the laugh and the jeer?

Ah! here is a plentiful board;

But the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer,
And none but the worm is a reveller here.

Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow?

Ah, no-for his empire is known,

And here there are trophies enow;

Beneath the cold head, and around the dark stone,
Are the signs of a sceptre that none can disown.

The first tabernacle to Hope we will build,

And look for the sleepers around us to rise:

The second to Faith, which insures it fulfilled,

And the third to the Lamb of the great Sacrifice,

THE BIBLE.

Who bequeathed us them both, when he rose to the skies!

SOME one of our countrymen has written: 'I never shun a graveyard. The thoughtful melancholy it inspires, is grateful rather than

displeasing to me.' Here we differ. I do shun it; and I hope a good Providence will keep me out of one for a long time. I desire not a freehold in any such premises. I like the liberal air-the golden sunshine the excursive thought; and I pray Heaven to detain me long from that ancient receptacle, where my kinsmen are inurned. Give me the vital principle below the sun; and though I cannot be astonishingly useful to my fellow beings, or carve my name, just now, high on the records of fame, I can at least enjoy the luxury of fancy, feeding, and respiration, to say nothing of the pleasing employment of dreaming which is in itself worth a dukedom- and the rapture of eye-sight. I love not your sackloth misanthrope, whose whole life is darkened by the fear of its inevitable close, and embittered in the mazes of metaphysics.

SPEAKING of metaphysics, reminds me of Bob Edwards. Reader, thou art already acquainted with Bob-thou hast had a touch of his quality in the potato line, and hast borne him company in sundry expeditions from the sacred groves of Academus; thou hast seen, that, by deeds of valiant daring, he had built up for himself a fame which extended far beyond the terrestrial limits that were allowed us for the exercise of our corporeal functions, by the individual who instructed the youthful creatures of our imaginations in the use of fire-arms — or, in the language of the immortal poet,

'Taught our young ideas how to shoot.'

He was the plague of the farmers the glory of the jollifiers the terror of the mothers, and the passion of the daughters the world, for thirty miles round.'

all over

He was an uncommon youth, was Bob- Oh, quite so! Bob had a philosophical turn of mind, and was looked up to by his satellites with unspeakable reverence. By tacit consent, he was vested with an appellate jurisdiction in the little commonwealth. He sat in judgment upon all questions of law or equity, arising between its juvenile members. He delivered his opinion like the Oracle of Delphos, and his decrees were final.

It was winter the length of the evenings were remarkable for the time of year the frigidity of the circumambient atmosphere wasvery considerable. A thought smote Bob.

He called his associates together - he made a speech — in which, with all the alternate fire and pathos of his Heaven-born eloquence, he described the trying position in which the severity of the weather had placed them. He spoke of the physical enjoyments of the human race as empty vanities, which an all-wise Providence, for his own good purpose, had qualified with pains and penalties. He adverted, in melting terms, to the uncommon scarcity of game, by which, for a time, they were debarred from the dignified and soul-ennobling pursuit of hunting foxes. He went on to observe, that the improvement of the intellectual faculties was one of the first duties of man; and after enlarging with great talent upon this incontrovertible position, he proposed to his auditors that they should organize a society for the discussion of subjects involving questions of abstract science. (By the way, there are plenty

of such discussions and societies now-a-days, of which cui bono should be the motto, but whereof I would not for a ton of gold be supposed to speak lightly. Oh, by no means!) He proceeded to explain his views at length, and his purpose having been received with a unanimous approval, the constitution was signed, the officers were elected, and Bob was placed in the Presidential chair of

THE METAPHYSICAL SOCIETY.

And now, reader, Bob was in his glory. Many were the discussions held by that erudite body, and numerous were the elucidations of the scientific mysteries which had baffled the mightiest intellects of past ages. I do especially remember me of one discussion, in which our venerated President himself largely participated. It was deemed of much interest to the cause of learning, that the debates of the Society should be preserved on record; wherefore, the office of Grand Stenographer had been instituted, into which responsible station I had been sworn, with great solemnity, a short time previous to the period to which I refer. It had been determined to hold a grand debate upon a question of grave importance. The President's proclamation had gone forth, with an imposing aspect. Three gigantic hand-bills were indited by his private secretary. One of these was fastened with ten-penny nails upon the portal of the Interniculum Frumenti, (as the corn-crib was classically denominated;) a second on the vestibulum of the Temple of the Muses, (or, as it was termed by the common people, the Pig-pen,) and the third was emblazoned on the academic Stabulum.

I subjoin a true copy of the document, taken from the records of the Society.

'SOCII SOCIETATIS METAPHYSICE.

'Convocabunt in ædibus Academiæ Cæ, dimidium horæ post septimum, die Jovis, vigesimo Januarii.

'Orationis argumentum est maximi momenti, quia involvit casus scientiæ, antea nunquam agitatos.

'Quamobrem, nos, Præfectus hujus Societatis eruditæ, per hoc mandamus omnibus sociis, fautoribus Metaphysicarum, congregare accurate ædibus ante dictis.

'Questio quæ proponitur argumento, ut sequitur: 'An chimera, bombinansin vacuo, devorat secundas intentiones."

* In hac re, Busquam aberramini, sub pœna sexdecim caudarum gallorum.

'ROBERTUS EDWARDUS, Præs.' Such was the manifesto of President Bob; and it may not be improper to annex, for the benefit of the general reader, a true rendition into the vernacular, of the question on which the Metaphysical Society was to exercise its intellectual energies.

This, then, was the subject of discussion: Whether a chimera, ruminating in a vacuum, devoureth second intentions.'

The erudite reader cannot fail to perceive the importance of the occasion, and its tendency to create an irrepressible interest in the republic of letters. I pass over the various speculations on the subject, which had agitated the philosophical world previous to the assembling of this august body and, deeming that the preceding remarks sufficiently introduce the main object, I plunge at once, in medias res.

On the twentieth day of January, in the year of grace one thousand eight hundred and twenty-six, a grand meeting of the Metaphysical Society of Ca was held in the academic buildings of that ilk.