clamation of the multitude, when a large space was suddenly opened by the soldiers at some distance by forcing back the masses. "What means this violence ?" was the general whisper. "The Grand Duke Nicholas is coming," was the reply. It was indeed he, who, having marched with hasty steps into the space, looked for a moment upon the sea, without casting a single glance upon the repulsed crowd, and then stepped back to the palace, without in the least acknowledging the loud greeting which the multitude was-as in duty boundbestowing on him.-Nicholson's Life of Nicholas I.

SARATOGA SPRINGS.

BY ELLEN EYRIE.

WE'RE going to Saratoga Springs;
To-morrow we'll be off;

For Ma has got some chains and rings,
And Pa has got a cough;

And they must hasten, with their daughters,
To cure them both with Congress Waters.

I feel as if my heart had wings,—

It's just the trip I need ;

And we have purchased heaps of things
To make the plan succeed:
My lawns are lovely, I'll engage,
And such a sweet new pink barège!

We'll follow where the "ton" has led,
For Pa is somewhat ill:
And Ma has got a dreadful head,
That aches-to try its skill-
Manoeuvring for Nell and me,
And Angeline and Rosalie.

Papa declares he'll take the four,

Although I'm sure he knows

The thing will cloud our prospects o'er
For ever, with the beaux:

For many a heart will turn to clubs,

That counts at length the four Miss Stubbs!

And I may win a coach-and-four,

And I may win a cot;

But sure no Brown, or Smith, or More,
Need bid for this fair lot;

For I am bound to stake my game

On full three syllables of name.

And

yet it is a bitter cup,

When youth is in a glow,

To give its brightest prospects up,
Because there's such a row

Of Misses Stubbs-for all our charms
Are lost in half a score of arms.

But Ma has bid me think myself
How Pa will have to plod,

To gain the necessary pelf

For Clara, Blanche, and Maud; For Pa has got a chime of belles, Whose music aint the kind that sells.

But I must make my outfit go

For something sure as fate:
'Tis hope's last chance, and few can know
How badly I should hate,

When life is done with all its rubs,
To mark my tomb with, Jeannie Stubbs.
New York Home Journal.

71

SMOKING A POLICEMAN.-In some of our towns we don't allow smokin' in the street, and, where it is agin law, it is two dollars in a general way. Well, Sassy went down to Boston, to do a little business there, where this law was, only he didn't know it. So soon as he gets off the coach, he outs with his case, takes a cigar, lights it, and walks on, smokin' like a furnace flue. No sooner said than done. Up steps constable and says, "I'll trouble you for two dollars for smokin' agin law in the streets." Sassy was as quick on him. "Smokin'!" says he, "I warn't a smokin'"." O my !" says constable, "I won't say you lie, because it ain't polite, but it's very like the way I talk when I fib. Didn't I see you with my own eyes?" "No," says Sassy, "you didn't. I own I had a cigar in my mouth, but it was because I liked the flavour of tobacco, but not to smoke. No, I warn't smokin', and, if you don't believe me, try this cigar yourself, and see if it ain't so. It han't got any fire in it." Well, constable takes the cigar, puts it to his mug, and draws away at it, and out comes the smoke like anything. "I'll trouble you for two dollars, Mr. Sheriff's representative," says Sassy, "for smokin' in the streets; do you understand, my old coon ?" Well, constable was taken all aback, and finely bit. "Stranger," says he, "where were you raised ?" "To Canady line," says Sassy. Well," says he, "you're a credit to your broughtens up. Well, let the fine drop, for we are about even, I guess. Let's liquor;" and he took him into the bar, and treated him to a mint julep. It is generally considered a great bite that.-American paper.

ALL THE BERRIES?-A celebrated comedian arranged with his green-grocer-one Berry-to pay him quarterly; but the green-grocer sent in his account long before the quarter was due. The comedian, in great wrath, called upon his green-grocer, and labouring under the impression that his credit was doubted, said—“ I say, here's a pretty mul, Berry; you've sent in your bill, Berry, before it is due, Berry; your father, the elder Berry, would not have been such a goose, Berry. But you need not look black, Berry, for I don't care a straw, Berry, and shan't pay you till Christmas, Berry."

POETRY AND PROSE.-Cottle drove Wordsworth from Bristol to Alfoxden in a gig, calling at Stowey by the way to summon Coleridge and Miss Wordsworth, who followed swiftly on foot. The Alfoxden pantry was empty -So they carried with them bread and cheese, and a bottle of brandy. A beggar stole the cheese, which set Coleridge expatiating on the superior virtues of brandy. It was he that, with thirsty impatience, took out the horse; but, as he let down the shafts, the theme of his eloquence rolled from the seat, and was dashed to pieces on the ground. Coleridge, abashed, gave the horse up to Cottle, who tried to pull off the collar. It proved too much for the worthy citizen's strength, and he called to Wordsworth to assist. Wordsworth retired baffled, and was relieved by the ever-handy Coleridge. There seemed more likelihood of their pulling off the animal's head than his collar, and they marvelled by what magic it had ever been got on. "La! master," said the servant-girl, who was passing by, "you don't go the right way to work;" and, turning round the collar, she slipped it off in an instant, to the utter confusion of the three luminaries.Home Companion.

THE LIFETIME OF MAN.

WHEN the world was created, and all creatures assembled to have their lifetime appointed, the ass first advanced, and asked how long he would have to live? "Thirty years," replied Nature; "will that be agreeable to thee?" "Alas!" answered the ass, "it is a long while! Remember what a wearisome existence will be mine; from morning until night I shall have to bear heavy burdens, dragging corn sacks to the mill that others may eat bread, while I shall have no encouragement, nor be refreshed by anything but blows and kicks. Give but a portion of that time, I pray !" Nature was moved with compassion, and presented but eighteen years. The ass went away comforted, and the dog came forward. "How long dost thou require to live?" asked Nature. "Thirty years were too many for the ass, but wilt thou be contented with them?" "Is it thy will that I should?" replied the dog. "Think how much I shall have to run about; my feet will not last for so long a time, and when I shall have lost my voice for barking, and my teeth for biting, what else shall I be fit for but to lie in a corner and growl ?" Nature thought he was right, and gave him twelve years. The ape then appeared. "Thou wilt, doubtless, willingly live the thirty years" said Nature; "thou wilt not have to labour as the ass and the dog. Life will be pleasant to thee." "Ah, no!" cried he, "so it may seem to others, but it will not be! Should puddings ever rain down, I shall have no spoon! I shall play merry tricks, and excite laughter by my grimaces, and then be rewarded with a sour apple. How often sorrow lies concealed behind jest! I shall not be able to endure for thirty years.' Nature was gracious, and he received but ten. At last came man, healthy and strong, and asked the measure of his days. "Will thirty years content thee ?"—" How short a time!" exclaimed man. "When I shall have built my house, and kindled a fire on my own hearth; when the trees I shall have planted are about to bloom and bear fruit; when life will seem to me most desirable, I shall die. O Nature! grant me a longer period!""Thou shalt have the eighteen years of the ass beside."

"That is not enough," replied man.-"Take likewise the twelve years of the dog."-"It is not yet sufficient," reiterated man; "give me more !"-"I give thee then the ten years of the ape; in vain wilt thou claim more!" Thus man lives seventy Man departed unsatisfied. years. The first thirty are his human years, and pass swiftly by. He is then healthy and happy-he labours cheerfully and rejoices in his existence. The eighteen years of the ass come next, and burden upon burden is heaped upon him; he carries the corn that is to feed others; blows and kicks are the wages of his faithful service. The twelve years of the dog follow, and he loses his teeth, and lies in a corner and growls. When these are gone, the ape's ten years form the conclusion. Then man, weak and silly, becomes the sport of children.— Translated from the German.

HINTS TO CORRESPONDENTS. 1. Be brief. This is the age of telegraphs and stenography. 2. Be pointed. Don't write all round a subject without hitting it. 3. State facts, but don't stop to moralise. It's drowsy

business. Let the reader do his own dreaming. 4. Eschew prefaces. Plunge at once into your subject, like a swimmer in cold water. 5. If you have written a sentence that you think particularly fine, draw your pen through it. A pet child is always the worst in the family. 6. Condense. Make sure that you really have an idea, and then record it in the shortest possible terms. We want thoughts in their quintessence. 7. When your article is complete, strike out nine-tenths of the adjectives. The English is a strong language, but won't bear too much reducing. 8. Avoid all high flown language. The plainest Anglo-Saxon words are the best. Never use stilts when legs will do as well. 9. Make your sentences short. Every period is a mile-stone, at which the reader may halt, and rest himself. 10. Write legibly. Don't let your manuscript look like the tracks of a spider half drowned in ink. We shan't mistake any one for a genius, though he write as crabbedly as Napoleon. Finally, to all who obey these injunctions, we will through our columns grant an immortality of a week. A special

edict!

CHALK AND KINDNESS.-The grand secret of educational success was perhaps never better exemplified than in the following anecdote:-The heir of an old Scottish family had been taught geography upon the wise and kindly, yet primitive principle of chalk and a black board. His fortunes, in maturer life, led him to the Peninsula. Returning, after fields were won, to his ancient home, he met his old teacher, and said to him-"I fear I have forgotten most of the Latin and Greek you taught me; but I never crossed a river in Spain without thinking of your black board," thus triumphantly verifying the saying of an intelligent Quakeress, that the two grand secrets of education were "chalk and kindness."

EMPIRE OF QUEEN VICTORIA.-Finche, in his "Boundaries of Empire," rather grandiloquently dishes up the wonder and greatness of Queen Victoria's empire, as follows:- "The Queen of England is now sovereign over montories, a thousand lakes, two thousand rivers, and ten one continent, a hundred peninsulas, five hundred prothousand islands. She waves her hand, and five hundred thousand warriors march to battle, to conquer or to die. She bends her head, and at the signal a thousand ships of war and a hundred thousand sailors perform her bidding on the oceans. She walks upon the earth, and one hunslightest pressure of her foot. Come, all ye conquerors, dred and twenty millions of human beings feel the and kneel before the Queen of England, and acknowledge the superior extent of her dependent provinces, her subjugated kingdoms, and her vanquished empires. The Assyrian empire was not so wealthy. The Roman empire was not so populous. The Persian empire was not so extensive. The Arabian empire was not so powerful. The Carthaginian empire was not so much dreaded. The Spanish empire was not so widely diffused. We have overrun a greater extent of country than Attila, that scourge of God, ever ruled! We have subdued more empires and dethroned more kings than Alexander of Macedon ! We have conquered more nations than Napoleon, in the plenitude of his power, ever subdued! We have acquired a larger extent of territory than Tamerlane the Tartar ever spurred his horse's hoof across.' This is indeed a proud boast, and should stimulate to good actions.

FROM

OUR FRENCH CORRESPONDENT.
BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS.
September 29th, 1854.

CHERE AMIE, ALREADY is the note of preparation sounded for the approach of cold winds. The sun, which has so cheered us with its genial rays, and brought us, though late, to feel its power, is fast receding from us, and we must be ready with comfortable toilettes to brave the change. Thus we already hear of talmas, composed of warm material, or velvet; waterproof alpagas and paletots for ladies are also announced, similar in style to the gentlemen's, though bearing the more feminine name of Polish corsage; but they are made to fit tight, and are trimmed with galons and ruches, concealing the seams, which are rather numerous, as this form requires. Numerous little casaques are also made for outdoor wear of black taffetas, with long basques, or a very deep black lace; the body closes in front, and has a small black lace pelerine reaching only to the elbow and waist, thus meeting the frill of lace at the waist; these have a very rich and elegant effect, and are particularly suited to wear with skirts of plaid or checked taffetas. Pelerines of late years have been confined to the use of children, but the approaching season is likely to see them revived, many dresses having them, particularly peignoirs.

For autumnal use corsages are preparing with basques made of velvet, silk, or cachemire, to wear over the dresses of coloured taffetas. Some of these bodies are quite high, buttoning in front; others are open to the waist, with waistcoat attached to the sides. Some of the closed ones have also small pelerines rounding off in front, and edged with a rich gimp; these have led to the adoption of coloured silk bodies, harmonizing with the colour of the checked or striped skirt, almost covered by the pelerine and trimming of black lace, with a skirt checked in white. They look very well with one very deep flounce headed by a chicorée, and two smaller ones placed at the bottom of the skirt.

Walking dresses are worn much shorter, and in deep folds one on the other; they are pretty trimmed with several rows of ribbon plissé à la Vieille on the skirt, and five rows of narrower on the sleeves, the body full both at the waist and shoulders.

VOL. 27.

There is an inclination this autumn to abandon the basques to the bodies: many are being made without. They mostly close in front with buttons, and for young persons have braces of ribbon, or lace lined with ribbon; but for older persons revers of velvet are substituted trimmed with fringe or ribbon; the bodies that are made with basques are much longer. The principal novelty of the season consists in the trimmings, particularly of the sleeves, which are often now as much ornamented as the cap or even bonnet, and these styles are various, as frills, bouffants, puffs, lozenges, jockeys, and vandykes, attached by noeuds of ribbon.

Children's dresses are always now merely miniature toilettes of their mammas', even to the white muslin cannezou with coloured skirts. Over these are worn the scarf ceintures of wide ribbon. Frocks of figured foulard are made with triple skirts, each edged by a narrow Valenciennes.

Black taffetas scarfs are very fashionable for young ladies, made very narrow, edged by deep frills of the same and made long enough to tie behind.

Ribbons are so much introduced that there is every variety in style, material, and colour. Some trimmings are formed by the mixture of velvet, silk, and gauze ribbons, and thus rosettes are formed to ornament the skirt and body of a redingote, the three materials being of three different tones of the same colour; and these rosettes are connected by a narrow bouillon of taffetas, the same as the dress. Another style is of noeuds formed by thirty or forty loops of very narrow ribbon in shades of colour from the darkest to the lightest. A new kind of pluche is also used in trimmings, edging flounces, basques, and sleeves. This material promises to be very generally used this season for trimmings; even shawls of pluche are made, and pelisses as well as pelerines are edged with pluche fringes. Another style of trimming, and which will be equally used on velvet, brocart, gauze, or tulle, is made of feathers, and bears the name of feather fur; it will be used in bands on mantelets in one or more rows.

Some of the newest barege, grenadine, and mousseline de soie dresses have the flounces to imitate guipure, being stamped out; but, as this style would very speedily spoil, they are lined with a coloured or white silk, and the most elegant have also a ribbon ruche edging the taffetas of the colour of the dress; and thus the light open flounce is supported. Some of the taffetas dresses, of light colours, are with several flounces bordered by narrow black velvet, and separated by feather fringe of the colour of the dress, filling