"For me there may be even a worse in store," he answered. "We were a knot of

us here, and should at least have died together. It may be that I shall yet perish a solitary exile, away from all."

"Do put such ideas away," she retorted. "It would be a sad fate, that, to close a career such as yours."

"Sad enough, perhaps: but in keeping with the rest,' was his reply, a melancholy smile rising to his pale features, as he handed her into the boat, preparatory to their return. Up to a very recent period, there was an old man still living in Italy, a man who, in | his younger days, had been a gondolier. His

name-at any rate, the one he went by-was Cyclops. It was pleasant to sit by his side in the open air, and hear him talk. He would tell you fifty anecdotes of the generous English lord, who lived so long, years ago, at Ravenna. And if he could persuade you to a walk in the blazing sun, would take you to the water's edge, and display, with pride and delight, a handsome gondola. It was getting the worse for wear then, in the way of paint and gilding, but it had once been the flower among the gondolas of the Adriatic. It was made under the orders of Lord Byron, and when presented to Cyclops was already christened-THE CASK.

TALLEYRAND.-At a small private party in Paris, one evening, some difficulty was found in making up a whist table for the Prince de Talleyrand. A young diplomat present, who was carnestly pressed by the hostess, excused himself on the grounds of not knowing the game. "Not know how to play whist, sir?" said the Prince, with a sympathizing air; "then, believe me, you are bringing yourself up to be a miserable old man!"

THE VESTRIS FAMILY.-The pomposity of the elder Vestris, the "diou de la danse," and founder of the choregraphic dynasty, has been often described. In speaking of his son, Augustus, he used to say, "If that boy occasionally touches the ground, in his pas de zephyr, it is only not to mortify his companions on the stage."

When Vestris père arrived from Italy, with several brothers, to seek an engagement at the Opera, the family was accompanied by an aged mother; while one of the brothers, less gifted than the rest, officiated as cook to the establishment. On the death of their venerable parent, the diou de la danse, with his usual bombastic pretensions, saw fit to

give her a grand interment, and to pronounce a funeral oration beside the grave. In the midst of his harangue, while apparently endeavoring to stifle his sobs, he suddenly caught sight of his brother, the cook, presenting a most ludicrous appearance, in the long mourning cloak, or train, which it was then the custom to wear. "Get along with you, in your ridiculous cloak!" whispered he, suddenly cutting short his eloquence and his tears. "Get out of my sight, or you will make me die with laughing."

A third brother of the same august family passed a great portion of his youth at Berlin, as secretary to Prince Henry of Prussia, brother of Frederick the Great. He used to relate that Prince Henry, who was a connoisseur of no mean pretensions, but prevented by his limited means from indulging his pas sion for the arts, purchased for his gallery at Rheinsberg a magnificent bust of Antinousa recognized antique. Feeling that he could not have enough of so good a thing, His Royal Highness caused a great number of plaster casts to be struck off, which he placed in various positions in his pleasure

"Did you notice by whom it was put down?" inquired the Queen. And when Monsieur de Chalabre, painfully embarrassed, hesitated to reply, she insisted in a tone that admitted of no denial, on a distinct answer. The banker was compelled to own that it was the young Count de Cthe representative of one of the first families in France.

"Let this unfortunate business transpire no further, sir," said the Queen, with a heavy sigh. And with an acquiescent bow, Monsieur de Chalabre withdrew from his audi

ence.

At the next public reception held in the apartments of the Queen, the Count de C, whose father was Ambassador from the Court of Versailles to one of the great powers of Europe, approached the play-table as usual. But Marie Antoinette instantly advanced to intercept him.

"Pardon me Monsieur le Comte," said she "if I forbid you again to appear at my farotable. Our stakes are much too high for so young a man. I promised your mother to watch over you in her place, during her absence from France, and preserve you, as far as lay in 'my power, from mischance.'

The Count, perceiving that his misdeeds had been detected, colored to the temples. Unable to express his gratitude for so mild a sentence of condemnation, he retired from the assembly, and was never again seen to approach a card-table.

CHARLES THE TENTH.-When Martignac was first proposed as Prime Minister to Charles the Tenth; " "No!" said the King, "Martignac would never suit me. He is a verbal coquette, who holds, above all things, to the graceful symmetry of his sentences. To secure a well-turned phrase, he would sacrifice a royal prerogative. A minister should not hold too jealously to the success of his prosody."

LA PLACE. La Place, the celebrated geometrician and astronomer, was passionately fond of music; but he preferred the school to which he had been accustomed from his youth. During the feud between the Gluck ists and Piccinists, he sided warmly with Piccini; and ever afterwards retained a strong partiality for Italian music. In latter years, he rarely attended the theatre; but was tempted by the great reputation of the Freischutz, produced at Paris under the

name of the "Robin des Bois," to witness the performance. As a peer of France, the author of the Mecanique Celeste was entitled to a seat in the box, set apart, at the Odeon, for the members of the Upper House ; which, unluckily, happened to be situated near the brass instruments of the orchestra. At the first crash, the brows of La Place were seen to contract. At the second bray, he rose from his seat, and seized his hat.— "Old as I am, thank God I am not yet deaf enough to endure that !" said he ; and quietly slipped out of the theatre.

THE COMTESSE DE D. Madame la Comtesse de D, one of the wittiest women in Paris, had a daughter, who by fasting, and an over-strict exercise of the duties of the Catholic religion, seriously injured her health.

"My dear child," said her mother, "you have always been an angel of goodness. Why endeavor to become a saint? Do you want to sink in the world?”

THE DỤC DE BERRI.-The unfortunate Duc de Berri was, in private life, a kindlyaffectioned man. The servants of his household were strongly attached to him, for he was an excellent master. He used to encourage them to lay up their earnings and place them in the savings bank; and even supplied them with account-books for the purpose. From time to time, he used to inquire of each how much he had realized. One day, on addressing this question to one of his footmen, the man answered that he had nothing left; on which the Prince, aware that he had excellent wages, evinced some displeasure at his prodigality.

"My mother had the misfortune to break her leg, monseigneur," said the man. “Of course I took care to afford her proper professional attendance."

The Prince made no answer, but instituted inquiries on the subject; when, finding the man's statement to be correct, he replaced in the savings bank the exact sum his serv ant expended.

Trifling acts of beneficence and graciousness often secure the popularity of Princes. Garat, the celebrated tenor, was one of the most devoted partisans of the Duc de Berri, The origin of his devotion was, however, insignificant. The fête, or name-day of the duke, falling on the same day with that of Charles the Tenth, he was acccustomed to celebrate it on the morrow, by supping with his bosom friend, the Count de Vaudreuil. After the Restoration, Madame de Vaudreuil always took care to arrange an annual fête,

such as was most likely to be agreeable to their royal guest. On one occasion, knowing that his Royal Highness was particularly desirous of hearing Garat, who had long retired from professional life, she invited him and his wife to come and spend at her hotel the evening of the Saint Charles. Garat, now both old and poor, was thankful for the remuneration promised; and not only made his appearance, but sang in a style which the Duc de Berri knew how to appreciate. He and his wife executed together the celebrated duet in "Orphée," with a degree of perfection which created the utmost enthusiasm of the aristocratic circle.

us

The music at an end, the Duke perceived that Garat was looking for his hat, preparatory to retiring. "Does not Garat sup with ?" he inquired of Madame de Vaudreuil. "I could not take the liberty of inviting him to the same table with your Royal Highness," replied the Countess. "Then allow me to take that liberty myself," said the Duke, good-humoredly. "You are not hurrrying away, I hope, Monsieur Garat ?" said he to the artist, who, having recovered his hat, was now leaving the room. Surely you are still much too young to require such early hours? And as we must insist on detaining Madame Garat to sup with us, I trust you will do me the favor to remain, and take care of your wife."

From early youth, the Duke had been united by ties of the warmest friendship with the Count de la Ferronays. Nearly of the same age, the intercourse between them was unreserved; but the Count, a man of the most amiable manners, as well as of an excellent understanding, did not scruple to afford to his royal friend, in the guise of pleasantry, counsels which the Duke could not have done more wisely than follow to the letter. Every day monseigneur repeated to his friend that he could not live a day apart from him. Such, however, was the impetuosity of the Duc de Berri's character, that storms frequently arose between them; and on one occasion his Royal Highness indulged in expressions so bitter and insulting, that Monsieur de la Ferronays rushed away from him to the apartments he occupied on the attic story at the Tuileries, resolved to give in his resignation that very night, and quit France for ever.

While absorbed in gloomy reflections arising from so important a project, he heard a gentle tap at his daor. "Come in!" said he; and in a moment the arms of the Duc de Berri were round his neck.

"My dear friend," sobbed his Royal Highness, in a broken voice; "I am afraid that you are very wretched! that is, if I am to judge by the misery and remorse I have myself been enduring for the last half hour!"

An atonement so gracefully made effected an immediate reconciliation.

LOUIS XVIII.-Monsieur, afterwards Louis XVIII., perceiving that his brother, the Count d'Artois, and the chief members of the youthful nobility, distinguished themselves by their skill at tennis, took it into his head to become a proficient in the game; though the embonpoint which he had attained even at that early age, rendered the accomplishment of his wishes somewhat difficult of attainment.

After taking a considerable number of lessons from the master of the royal tennis court at Versailles, he one day challenged his royal brother to a match; and after it was over, appealed to the first racquet boy for a private opinion of his progress. "It is just this here," said the garçon: "if your Royal Highness wasn't quite so grossier, and had a little better head on your shoulders, you'd do nearly as well as Monseigneur the Count d'Artois. As it is, you make a poor hand of it."

TALMA.-Talma used to relate that, once, on his tour of provincial engagements, having agreed to give four representations at the Theatre Royal at Lyons, he found the line of père noble characters filled by a clever actor, whom Madame Lobreau, the directress of the company, unluckily found it impossible to keep sober. On learning that this individual was to fill the part of the high priest in the tragedy of Semiramis, in which he was himself to personify Arsace, Talma waited upon him in private, and spared no argument to induce him to abstain from drink, at least till the close of the performance.

A promise to that effect was readily given ; but alas! when the curtain was about to draw up, to a house crammed in every part, the high priest was reported, as usual, to be dead drunk! Horror-struck at the prospect of having to give back the money at the doors, Madame Lobreau instantly rushed up to his dressing-room, and insisted on his swallowing a glass of water to sober him, previous to his appearance on the stage. The unhappy man stammered his excuses; but the inexorable manageress caused him to be dressed in his costume, and supported to the side-scenes, during which operation, Talma was undergoing a state of martyrdom.

At length the great Parisian actor appeared on the stage, followed by the high

priest, and was as usual overwhelmed with applause. But to his consternation, when it came to the turn of the high priest to reply, the delinquent tottered to the footlights, and proceeded to address the pit.

Gentlemen," said he, "Madame Lobreau is stupid and barbarous enough to insist on my going through my part in the state in which you see me, in order that the performance may not be interrupted. Now I appeal to your good sense whether I am in a plight to personify Orsoes? No, no! I have too much respect for the public to make a fool of myself!-Look here, Arsace!" he continued, handing over to Talma with the utmost gravity the properties it was his cue to deliver to him in the fourth act. "Here's the letter, here's the fillet,-here's the sword. Please to remember that Madame Semiramis is your lawful mother, and settle it all between you in your own way as you think proper. For my part, I am going home to bed."

A class of men who-luckily, perhaps have disappeared from the Parisian world, is that of the mystificateurs, or hoaxers, created at the period of the first revolution, by the general break-up of society, so destructive to true social enjoyment. To obviate the difficulty of entertaining the heterogeneous circles accidentally brought together, it became the fashion to select a butt, to be hoaxed or mystified by some clever impostor, for the amusement of the rest of the party. Among the cleverest of the mystificateurs were three painters, who had proved unsuccessful in their profession-Musson, Touzet, and Legros. The presence of one of these, at a small party or supper, was supposed to ensure the hilarity of the evening. Sometimes the hoaxer was satisfied to entertain the company by simple mimicry, or by relating some humorous adventure; but in circles where he was personally unknown, he usually assumed the part of a fictitious personage-a

country cousin, an eccentric individual, or a foreigner. Musson, the best of his class, exhibited, in these impersonations, the vis comica in the highest degree.

One day, having been invited to meet, at dinner, Picard, the dramatist, to whom he was a stranger, he made his appearance as a rough country gentleman, come up to Paris to see the lions. Scarcely were they seated at table, when he began to discuss the theatres, of one of which (the Odeon) Picard was manager. Nothing, however, could be more bitter and uncompromising than the sarcasms leveled at the stage by the bumpkin critic; to whom, for some time, Picard addressed himself in the mildest tones, endeavoring to controvert his heterodox opinions. By degrees, the intolerance and impertinence of the presumptuous censor became insupportable; and, to his rude attacks, Picard was beginning to reply in language equally violent, to the terror and anxiety of the surrounding guests, when their host put an end to the contest by suddenly exclaiming,'Musson, will you take a glass of wine with me?" --on which, a burst of laughter from Picard acknowledged his recognition of the hoax so successfully played off upon him; and, contrary to the proverb, the "two of a trade" shook hands, and became friends for life.

66

JULES JANIN. In the height of the quarrel between the Homoeopathists and the Faculty of Paris, the editor of a medical journal, having somewhat severely attacked the disciples of Hahnemann, was called out by one of the tribe. "Rather hard," said he, "to have to risk ones's life for pointing out the impotence of an infinitesimal dose!"—"No great risk, surely!" rejoined Jules Janin, who was present at the discussion, “such a duel ought, of course, to represent the principles of homoeopathic science-the hundredth part of a grain of gunpowder to the thousandth part of a bullet !"