that? I never saw such an ugly fish before." Nor did Bob either; but he promptly and gravely replied, "That is the cat-fish, you know, because he comes out of the water, and catches the mice, you know. He belongs to the West Indies, you know."

He told us one night, that at Honduras there was a tree called the iron tree, because it was harder than iron, and that it was used instead of the metal for various purposes.

“But how,” said old Frawley," could it be cut? I'm blowed if you're not a-going it! Steel would be of no use ag’in it.” "Oh! they cut it down with itself," says Bob.

“Ay,” retorted Frawley, "but how did they get down the first tree?

"They burnt it at the root, you know," rejoined the Captain. So remote from ill-nature were the feelings of poor Bob, that no man was more given than he to exalting his friends and acquaintance. On coming into Frawley's of an evening, I saw him sitting in a box with a man of colour, a sort of dirtily whitewashed nigger, and I declined the invitation to join him. When this fellow had gone, he took his place near me, and I said something reproachfully. “Who was that cursed ugly nigger you were talking to?"

“That,” replied Bob, “is Buckatoo, you know. He is master of the horse to the Queen of Madagascar."

Poor Bob, like Sir John, has glided under the earth, and their branch of the family is extinct. Bob trusted one of those enemies of human kind, an attorney, and he robbed him of every farthing he possessed. He died in a garret, in the rules of the Queen's Bench; and would have died without a drop of toast and water to moisten his lips, and been left to be buried by the parish, if it had not been for the generosity of that noble fellow, the Hon. George Talbot, who is now (alas the while !) like himself numbered with the dead.

OFFLEIAN CORRESPONDENCE,

WITH

BENTLEIAN GLOSSES.

We have great pleasure in complying with the request contained in the following elegant epistle; and thus proceed to give publication to the effusion of one entitled to all sort of admiration as a proverbial personage-" the Wise Child" of the ancient adage.

SIR,

I have perused an article in Bentley's Miscellany for this month, entitled “Hore Offleanæ. Being a son of the late Mr. Offley, I may pretend to know something about him. I therefore assert, that the statements respecting my father in the article in question are LIES!!!

As these statements will have a very extended circulation among Bentley's readers, I request that, for fair play's sake, you will afford a space for this brief communication in the next number.

24, Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, March 1, 1841.

SIR,

I am, sir, your obedient servant,
GEORGE OFFLEY.

THE MAN ABOUT TOWN TO R. BENTLEY, ESQ.

I thank you for sending me the letter signed George Offley, and think this polite Publican, who has converted himself into a Scribe, should be allowed to complete the Judaic circle, and proclaim himself a Pharisee. Though he uses what Doctor Johnson was pleased to style "the strong language" of Bishop Warburton, namely,

"you lie," and affects all the indignation of a Lally Tollendal, in vindicating the memory of an illustrious and injured papa, it may be questioned whether the motives which actuated his desire to rush into print were other than envy of Frawley's renown (which the Miscellany has now made immortal), and his own jealousy of the fame of the great defunct. Proud, sir, am I to feel that for "mine old host" "Exegi monumentum ære perennius,"

-a monument not to be soiled, much less shaken by the breath of any little barker indignant at my not having proclaimed the Virgilian principle,

"Sic canibus catulos similes,"

Alack! sir, it is not often that the whelps of modern days come up to the "old dogs of the last generation; nor is the present representative of the House of Offley, I much fear, an exception, saving, indeed, in the articles of good temper and gentlemanly expression. Mr. George Offley has not condescended to particulars; he vouchsafes only his ipse dixit. He does not say which of my statements is false. In this he was wise. Thousands in town could prove them each and all to be true. I have described old Frawley as an honest and strong-minded man, who, without the advantage of education, raised himself from an humble station to independence and comfort. I have described him as a "merry old host," respectful, attentive, obliging, and grateful to the gentlemen who frequented his house. I have described him as a singer of songs, and a maker of speeches which invariably produced roars of laughter. I have described him as a convivial man himself, and to the great benefit of his exchequer, a promoter of conviviality in others. I have described him as an excellent cook, and a dispenser of the best mutton-chops that ever fizzed upon the bars of a gridiron. And "in spite of spite" all this he was, and will be. Nam multos veterum velut inglorios ac ignobiles oblivio obruit, sed Offleius narratus atque traditus superstes erit. I am, sir, your obedient servant, A MAN ABOUT TOWN.

Bellamy's, March 10, 1841. P.S.-In the course of the evening I will ascertain from Nicholas and the cook what reminiscences they may have preserved of their old fellow-servant.

THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS.

BY W. G. J. BARKER, ESQ.

THEY are coming! they are coming! from the regions of the sun,
For Winter's storms are ended, and sweet May is begun;

From those lands where summer reigneth in all her golden prime,
The glad and gleesome wanderers are hast'ning to our clime.

Soft airs have kiss'd each brooklet, loos'ning its icy chains,
And early flowers are peeping upon the vernal plains;
The forest trees are putting on their garb of velvet green,
And in the wild wood dingles young violets are seen.
They come across blue ocean! tribes of the restless wing,
Whose joyous hours are ever passed amid perpetual spring;
They left us in brown autumn to flee beyond the main,
But darksome days are over, and lo! they come again.
Oh! had we but their pinions, what blessed lives were ours,
We would travel with the seasons, and sport in fadeless bowers;

'Mid blossoms never dying, with melody and mirth,

We would make our yearly journey around the smiling earth.

No blight should overtake us, no tempests black appal;

When fruits were ripe, we would not bide to see them pine and fall;
But, like those gentle birds, speed our fleet course away

To climes of glorious sunshine, unconscious of decay.

Oh! happy, happy creatures! they neither weep nor sigh;
The forests and the fountains their food and drink supply;
They labour not for riches,-for fame they do not seek,-
No guilt pollutes their bosoms, no cares their slumbers break.

They are coming! they are coming! blithe attendants of the sun-
For Winter's reign is ended, and sweet May is begun-
From lands where fairly flourish the orange and the lime,
The little winged wanderers are hast'ning to our clime!
Banks of the Yare.

"LIGHT."

66

BY THE AUTHOR OF LONDON ASSURANCE."

"And God said, Let there be light, and there was light."-Gen. ch. i. v. 2 SPACE labour'd-quicken'd by Almighty word,

And from its shapeless womb unsightly voided
Chaos. For on that great command, Matter,
Obedient to its great Progenitor,
Rush'd amain from all the corners

Of eternity. Each atom jostling

Its fellow in haste to pleasure Him-so form'd
A turgid lump, which surging to and fro

On a black sea of thickening vapour,

An unwholesome sweat oozed from the slimy depths

Of this miscarried mass. Helpless-still with all
The germ of life, as in a new-born babe,

It lay upon the bosom of great Space,

Its mother, who could not help it into fair
Existence.

God said, "Let there be light, and there was light."
The murky vault was split: Darkness was rent:
A golden orb sprung from the smile of God,
Stood, created,-Width oped her mighty jaws
To gape at this new wonder-for Space now
Had eyes to see her own immensity.
The Universe awoke, and dress'd in regal
Purple, stood in all the silent majesty
Of the interminable arch. Empire
Of creation! Night, so late a tyrant,
Shrank to some pit or grave within the bosom
Of its subject mass. The infant Globe, smiling,
Stretched forth its cheek towards its novel nurse,
That sung, and soothed it with a gentle breeze.
Land sprung up to meet its benefactor,

And straight shot forth its trees and shrubs, which sent up
An odour, the only language they could speak,
To kiss and greet the light that warmed them
Into life. Syren myrtles woo the fickle
May-breeze with a rustling kiss filch'd of
The lagging wind; while ev'ry twinkling leaf
Whispers a lay of love-sick melody.
The airy multitudes, distilling

Sweetest music in their shrill tale of first
Affection, swell out the gentle tumult
Of this mellow choir, till beaming Nature

Seems one song of universal adoration.

"Light was—and God saw that it was good."

The Day went down, while Heaven blush'd at Evening's Fickle flight. Night crept from the caves, keeping

Far off the dreaded sun; and as it came

With stealthy crawl, deserted Earth saw,
And its latest zephyr moan'd a wailing cry.
Twilight, the day's last warm embrace, turned back
From following the sun, and wept dew upon
The drooping flowers there, with a mother's slow
And struggling gait, with face o'er her shoulder
Bent, fixed a last fond gaze upon the mute-struck
Loveliness of recumbent Nature. But
Ere she went she oped her jewel-box, and clad
The dingy darkness in a blaze of angel's tears,
Shed for the fallen seraphs,-a golden filter
For up-wending souls to strain out sin, and purge
Mortality withal. Their sparkle does
Amuse her fright'ned offspring, who, half
Repelling, half accepting, sobs itself
To sleep.

D. L. BOURCICAULT.

To those who have been accustomed to view only the unamiable portions of the female character, as developed on the one hand by the restless scheming creature of the world, and on the other by the designing hollow-hearted courtezan, the mean, cowardly practice of defrauding a woman is sport; but by married men, who have studied the character deeply, and who appreciate those beautiful feelings by which it is essentially distinguished, that practice is happily held in abhorrence. Marriage induces a higher estimation of female virtue : it inspires men with a chivalrous, gallant spirit, of which the peculiar promptings are to those who never experienced the blessings which spring from the gentle characteristics of an amiable wife, altogether unknown; and hence Stanley-he being the only married man present during the performance of the disgraceful, cruel mockery detailed in the preceding chapter-was the only man by whom it was not viewed as a jest. But although he was thoroughly disgusted with the heartless conduct of his new associates, he felt bound to fulfil the engagement into which he had entered, but from which he would then most gladly have withdrawn. He had no longer the slightest confidence in the men; he conceived it to be almost impossible for them to be actuated by any correct feeling, still, having entered into the speculation so far, he was unable to see how he could with honour retire.

Having reflected upon the matter for some time, vainly hoping for something to suggest itself whereby the speculation might with grace be abandoned, he named the subject to Sir William, in order that he might, if possible, point out the means by which an honourable retreat could be accomplished.

"I feel so indignant," said he, after explaining the manner in which the mock marriage had been conducted, "at having, although unconsciously, been made a party to so disreputable a proceeding, that I declare to you I would almost as soon forfeit the money I have engaged to put down, than have any farther connection with the

men.

66

Had you taken my advice," said Sir William, "you would not have entered into it at all; but I don't see how you can call off

now."

"Nor do I; and yet one might imagine that conduct like that which I have described would form a sufficient pretext for withdrawing?"

Oh! you must not think for a moment of making that a pretext. Were you to do so, you would only get laughed at."

"But do you not deem it disgraceful?"

"Why, I must say that, strictly speaking, it isn't the thing; but

in the circle, my dear fellow, in which they move, an affair of the kind is really thought but little of. Had he married the girl in reality, the case would have been widely different-it would then have been considered disgraceful indeed; but as it is, being merely a nominal marriage, which may at any moment be dissolved, why, his family are free from the stain of a low alliance, and his friends look upon him of course as before."

66

Notwithstanding, he has utterly destroyed that poor girl by blasting her happiness for ever."

"The conduct of men of high connexions must not, my good fellow, be scrutinised too closely. You must consider the peculiarity of their position. Suppose, for instance, now, that this had been an absolute marriage, what must of necessity have followed? Why, his family, who would have considered themselves thereby eternally disgraced, would have cut him, of course, dead; while his friends would have spurned him for being a fool."

"But this is no justification—"

"Justification! I grant you. But a family of this description would rather there should be five hundred mock marriages than a real one with a creature of plebeian origin, unless, indeed, she possess a mine of wealth. The influence of affection or love in such a case is never allowed; they 'll not hear it. Rank or wealth, Thorn, -rank or wealth. No other influence can possibly be recognised by them. And perhaps it is as well that it is so. Conceive, for example, the absurdity of such an announcement as this :-" MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE.—We have authority to state, that the Earl of Clarendale will shortly lead to the hymeneal altar Miss Sophonisba Gills, the lovely daughter of the late Mr. Timothy Gills, for many years the confidential carman of the celebrated Jonas Carp, Esq. the distingué fishmonger of Billingsgate Market."-Why it would throw every member of the noble family into fits, while the bridegroom himself would become the legitimate laughing-stock of the world. And then look at the position of the girl. Would it not be one of perpetual misery? Even suppose she were received by the family in question, their very courtesy would make her wretched, if even their sarcasms failed to break her heart. The absurdity of persons wishing to form alliances in a sphere far above that in which they have been accustomed to move is really monstrous. As far as happiness is concerned, the ambition is fatal if the object be attained. They cannot be happy. Even their servants will sneer at the meanness of their birth. In a word, Thorn, the belief that anything but bitter mortification on either side can spring from a marriage of this character is based upon ignorance the most gross."

"All this I admit to be correct," rejoined Stanley. "In an essentially artificial state of society it invariably is so; and none but densely ignorant persons would dream of forming such a connection. But that is not the point-"

"Why, it proves that this girl, for example, as far as regards her happiness, is not in a worse position than she would have been had the Earl really married her."

"But it does not prove the conduct of the Earl to be a whit the less disgraceful.”

"Granted!-as far as that goes; but it does not by any means follow, that because men of his caste delude a lot of ignorant girls,