but with the utmost good-humour,-"Hold your tongue-don't provoke me--I'll expose your ignorance." Mr. J. having still persisted, in pursuance of his preconcerted plan, the Doctor laid down his pipe very deliberately; and, after saying, in the way of preface,"Now, Jennyns, I'll have no mercy on you," talked for a considerable time in a strain of animated eloquence, which delighted the whole party, and no one more than Mr. J.; who, at the conclusion of Parr's speech, confessed the stratagem which he had made use of. This did not at all offend the Doctor, who only said,—“Oh, you dog!" and having been once roused, talked most agreeably during the rest of the evening. * The second of the three anecdotes to which I have alluded, is as follows:

At the house of Mr. in Grosvenor-square, where Mr. Jennyns met several persons, including Dr. Parr, assembled before dinner, in the course of conversation, it was mentioned that Mr. —, whose arrival they every moment expected, intended to study mathematics; and it was suggested to the Doctor, who was intimate with that gentleman, that it would be a friendly action to induce him to relinquish his purpose; upon which Parr exclaimed, "He learn mathematics! a blockhead! Leave him to me: I'll crush the silly project." Shortly afterwards, Mr. having made his appearance, Parr took him into an adjoining apartment, and addressed him thus, whilst the rest of the party were listening. "I am told, S, that you are going to study mathematics. Now, my dear, (speaking in the kindest tone of voice) you know, I have the greatest regard for you. Indeed, I have a sincere friendship for you. But you know, my dear that you are a fool! You must be aware that you are almost an idiot! My dear fellow, if you study mathematics, you will be a madman; and I have too much respect for you, to wish to see you in a strait waistcoat!" Mr. appeared to be thunderstruck, but took in good part the advice of the Doctor, who felt convinced that his friend would give up all thoughts of pursuing his mathematical studies.

The practical joke, to which I have alluded, also occurred at Mr. 's house in Grosvenor Square. Parr being there on a visit, and a warm bath having at his request been prepared for him, his attention was directed to two bells in the room; one of which, he was told, was for hot, and the other for cold water. Mr. had, however,

This stratagem puts me in mind of an anecdote, which I will relate on the authority of the late Mr. Bouchier Smith. At the table of the highest personage in the realm, many years ago, Mr. (an elegant poet of illustrious descent, and who had lived much in the society of sovereigns on the Continent) introduced the subject of the different constitutions of the German Principalities, upon which he entered into an argument with his royal host, who, in consequence of Mr. counterfeited opposition, discussed the topic in question in a very luminous and able manner, to the great delight of all present (including Mr. Bouchier Smith) and particularly of Mr. who candidly admitted that he had made use of a colloquial ruse de guerre, for the purpose of obtaining information on a topic, with which he knew the Prince to be familiar, and which he knew not how to obtain in any other quarter.

Mr. Bouchier Smith was, through his mother, of the Lowther family. He died a few years ago at Croome, the seat of the Earl of Coventry, who had been his schoolfellow at Westminster, and was buried in the vault of the Coventry family. He was well known in the higher circles of the metropolis, and was a finished gentleman, with great mental powers.

given orders, that upon the ringing of either of the bells, a fresh supply of hot-water should be poured in. Parr, when in the bath, thinking it too warm, immediately rang, what he had been told, was the cold water bell, and waited for a minute or two, expecting the heat to diminish. Finding, to his great surprize, the water hotter than before, and thinking that he had pulled the wrong bell, he rang the other as hard as possible. But this only increased the evil by producing a reinforce- ment of hot water; until at length the heat became so intolerable, that he jumped out of the bath in a passion, exclaiming, "Good God! do they mean to boil me?"-" No, Doctor," said Mr. - who was listening on the other side of the door, "I only intended that you should be par-boiled."

ON A SAILOR'S FUNERAL AT SEA.

He is not where his fathers lie,

He sleeps not where they sleep-
His name a wreck of memory,
His dwelling-place the deep-

Down mid unfathom'd gulfs he lies,
And ocean's unveil'd mysteries.
For he is gone where cave and hall
With coral garnished,

And darkness for their funeral pall,
Receive the ocean dead,

Where the sea-monsters have their home,

But men and sunbeams never come.

Grey was the dawn, and not a braid
Curl'd on the billow's brow,

While on the deck the prayer was said
And he was cast below,

Into the waveless glistening sea
That closed above him tranquilly.

We watch'd the circle on the wave
The dreary plunge had given,
And saw it widen o'er his grave,
And pass away where heaven

Met the smooth waters' darker blue

And blended their ethereal hue.

They wrapp'd no shroud his limbs around,

No bier sustain'd his form;

About the corse its bed they bound,
Which, oft in calm and storm,
The slumberer and the dreamer bore,
Who now shall dream and wake no more.

Sicken'd and sad we turn'd away

From the sad sight of gloom :

The solitude of sea that day

Seem'd but one mighty tomb,

Burying all thoughts but thoughts of woe

Asking who next should plunge below!

THE COLLECTOR OF CAWN PORE.

A Tale.

On a fine dry morning, in the month of December, just as the early sun, unveiling his glory, had begun to absorb the dews and bathe the whole landscape in splendour, I arrived at the station of Cawnpore. My boat was moored to the bank of the Ganges, and my servants preparing their breakfast, when our attention was arrested by the sound of a bugle, evidently at no great distance. My Chusnasse came towards me, and said that a review was to take place in half an hour.

It would be idle to attempt any lengthened description of the cantonment of Cawnpore. Its situation is almost destitute of natural beauty, or indeed, interest of any kind. Let the reader fancy a huge, uncultivated, sandy plain, which, during the period of the hot winds, sends up into the air vast clouds of dust, covering the houses and trees, and penetrating even into the interior of the former, and he will have a pretty accurate idea of the general site of the place. The inhabitants must be inconceivably annoyed by these sandy exhalations, which are known to settle densely on the very tables and chairs within those bungalows most exposed to their influence. Directly across the plain was the evening drive, throughout which there is scarcely a single object near or in perspective, upon which the eye may rest with pleasure; whilst the great distance between the cavalry lines and those of the infantry, deprives the officers of that sociability so desirable, and indeed necessary for their comfort. Nevertheless, with all its disadvantages, Cawnpore is not, to the traveller, quite uninteresting. Nature has been careful to vindicate herself from the charge of utter unprofitableness. The broad Ganges glides along with smooth and steady pace, beneath a towering cliff, overgrown in many places with shrubs and flowers. Upon the summit of this barrier stand several well-built houses, dispersed without any regard to regularity;-some approach almost to the very edge of the cliff; others are considerably in the back ground:-but each possesses large gardens within its ornamental enclosure. The sun not having fully risen at the time my boat was moored, I had a delightful opportunity of enjoying that slight breeze which seldom fails, in India, to accompany the uprising of the great luminary, and which, to an European, is particularly agreeable, investing all nature with double freshness and beauty. On arriving at the cantonments, I found the troops already assembled, and was surprised to see so fine a display, which was the more unlooked for, as I had received frequent accounts of the fearful alteration wrought by a few hot summers in the appearance of European forces. The Collector of Cawnpore had been, in other days, my most confidential friend; and now, after an interval of many years, I found myself at the place wherein he resided. The anticipated interview agitated as well as interested me. Youth had flown over our heads with all its fresh and buoyant feelings, and we had entered the shady part of life's road. What a variety of events had meanwhile occurred, of moment to both, and calculated to modify greatly, if not altogether to alter, former opinions and sentiments! With a portion of my friend's intermediate history I had from time to time become acquainted; and it was of a character to excite a reasonable expectation, that I should find him, not only changed in person, but, in the words of the poet, a "sadder and a wiser man."

The Collector was on the ground; but so surrounded by natives both of high and low caste, who flocked to pay their respects to the man of office, that I saw plainly our meeting under such circumstances, would be constrained and embarrassing. I therefore avoided him for the present; and, on the termination of the review, inquired my way to his residence. Having learnt that the master of the house was "at home," 1 was ushered into a handsome room, wherein breakfast was laid, in considerable style, and apparently for a large party. The room was, however, empty; and I paced about for some time, without having my cogitations in any way disturbed. At

length my friend entered; and the first warm salutations having been exchanged, we took seats immediately opposite each other. "You see a great change in me, George!" said I. "But, so far as I am qualified to judge, you are still more altered." The fact was, I had left my friend a fine, handsome young fellow, without a grain of affectation; whilst the person I now addressed was, at all points, a perfect dandy! My expression of countenance, as I spoke did not escape him, and, in a somewhat subdued tone, he replied "We are both changed, my friend!--but with this difference: You had a mind strong enough to overcome your trials-I had not. My sufferings have been very great!" He paused; and then grasping my hand with earnestness, added, "Oh, could you have come to me, when I wrote entreating you to do so, I might have been spared all !"

"George," exclaimed I," we will not dash our first hour of meeting with melancholy: we will breakfast before we go into matters of interest-butexcuse me you expect company."

No," answered he, "I shall admit no visitors while you stay. The preparations you see are not more than ordinary, for I have always casual lookers-in, and it is my cue," proceeded he, smiling and sighing at the same time, "to keep a large establishment and an open house-not to say, that society is to me a blessing!"

Breakfast having been served and removed, and the domestics having re. tired, the Collector fell into a fit of abstraction, which rendered it evident that my arrival had been the stimulus by which certain feelings of deep painfulness had been awakened in his mind. He was obviously unhappy, and unable to endure the contrast with former days, which the presence of his old bosom-companion could not fail to excite. It was plain, also, that in his general intercourse with the world, he was playing a part; the defences and sophistications of which had fallen to the ground before the consciousness of our former unreserved communion.

At length I attempted to rouse him from this mood. He had quitted his chair, and was striding across the room with hurried steps, when I arose, and putting my arm within his, insensibly brought him to my own pace. We had, in this manner, taken a few turns, when he abruptly stopped; and, looking into his face, I perceived his cheeks overspread by a deadly paleness. His eyes were fixed with a wild and desperate expression, and his whole countenance was that of a maniac. "George!" exclaimed I, with a slight emotion of fear. He did not answer: but seizing a large carving-knife from the table, brandished it over his head. Astonishment at this unlooked-for scene, mingled with compassion for the chief actor in it, deprived me of all power of utterance, and I gazed on him for a while motionless, until his close advance reminded me of the danger of a madman's neighbourhood. With an instinct of self-defence, I laid my hand on his arm, and was about to expostulate, when, after a loud and unnatural laugh, he whispered in my ear, "You think me mad! but I am still sane enough to defend myself, by plunging this weapon deep into the heart of the first man who shall attempt to lay a finger on me. No, no! I have some time before me yet-the hour of disgrace is not arrived!"

"Be not weak enough," said I," to suspect your true friend. There is no cause for alarm. Sit down, and compose yourself." Whilst I spoke, the paroxysm subsided: and, suffering me to take the knife away, he threw himself upon a sofa.

My interest was painfully excited, and numerous bitter fancies swept across my brain. I repeated to myself the mysterious expressions, "I have time before me yet! the hour of disgrace has not arrived!" These feelings at length became unbearable; and laying my hand on the Collector's shoulder, to engage his attention, I addressed him thus: "George, this meeting is a sad one: do not aggravate its sadness by reserve. You surely do not--you cannotdoubt my sincerity. Tell me, therefore, the nature of your apprehensions. Tell me honestly why you fear, and what you fear; and let us see whether your peace of mind cannot be restored."

His features gradually relaxed, and he appeared to feel sensible of his impetuous error in doubting for a moment my friendly intentions. Tears started into his eyes, and he was, in fact, completely subdued;-after a considerable struggle he exclaimed,-"I am a villian, Charles! every way unworthy of your interest or regard. I do not even deserve your pity, and will not ask it. Why, indeed, should you listen to my story? The utmost exertions of your friendly nature would be insufficient to lighten my woes."

I used every possible effort to calm a mind so perturbed, and succeeded, after some time, in inducing him to disclose some of his griefs, though that particular portion which was calculated to throw a light over the dreadful scene before described, was not communicated until twelve months after, when a confidential and heart-breaking letter from him, related fully the misfortunes and downfal of the Collector of Cawnpore.

Having made the partial explanation alluded to, my friend proceeded :— "I am shortly to be married, Charles, to Charlotte. She is young and amiable, and will restore cheerfulness to my home, which has of late been more dismal to me than a prison. My father, indeed, will not easily forgive me for marrying again:" and, after a pause, he muttered shudderingly, "but his curse will be upon me ere long, whether I disobey him in this instance or not-so no matter." Then resuming his former tone, he continued :— "It will protract my fate, by deceiving enemies as well as friends with regard to my circumstances. The splendour of the preparations for my wife's reception has already been of service and if I can prevail on to lend me a few thousands more (meaning rupees), all will do well for a few years, by which time my father may be appeased, and assist me-and-"

"George," said 1, interrupting him somewhat indignantly, "you are indeed an altered man. What! systematically keep up a show which your real means do not warrant! And recollect your former marriage :—the feelings of love, and hope, and admiration, you lavished on her who deprived you, by her shameless conduct, of happiness, your father's regard-nay, almost of your reason. Will you again risk your peace, by a union with one of whom you confess yourself to know little, and who probably only assents to your proposal on account of your high situation as collector, and may plunge you deeper into debt by extravagance? At all events, as an honourable man, you surely cannot propose to her without coufiding the state of your circumstances."

"You cannot," answered he, "participate in my feelings, and therefore are incapable of giving me advice. I have a part to play, and will not flinch from it, though all the fabled Furies were let loose upon me." After a pause, he added, "Stay with me a few days; I will introduce you to Charlotte, and you shall find that, in society, I am quite another man. You must forget," proceeded he, with a smile, the joyless expression of which went to my heart, that you have been behind the curtain, and remember only your old asso

ciate."

Forgive me," said 1, after some hesitation, " for not complying with your request. While you entertain your present views, I cannot be of service to you, except, perhaps, in a pecuniary point of view; and I will not remain a regretful spectator of plans which I do not approve, and which I believe to be prejudicial to your best interests. Promise me," I continued, "that you will abandon these, and unite earnestly and candidly with your father (whose co-operation I will vouch for) and myself, in our efforts to release you from your embarrassments, and to render your services beneficial to your family, and I will readily accede to your wishes."

He seemed for a while struck with the seriousness of my manner; and I watched with no slight interest the shades of expression which chased each other across his intelligent face. But, alas! the chain was too deeply riveted; and he at length said firmly, seeking as it were a plausible pretext for his pertinacity,-" No! never-never, while I live, will I desert Charlotte! I know she loves me; I am engaged to her: and though, God knows, I am