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collision as must take place if he put his threat into execution. I was too late, however; ere I could obtain a footing on the lobby, a blow had been struck, and in quick succession the report of a pistol followed from within, the balls splintering the panels as they passed through, one whizzing by my ear, while a stinging twitch in my right arm indicated where the other had found a resting-place. I looked down in horror at the depth below; it was little less than twenty feet; my head grew dizzy, my arm failed, and down-down I went crashing into the hall of the basement story.

When I came thoroughly to myself, and recovered from the bewilderment in which I was plunged immediately on my resuscitation, I found myself stretched on a sofa in a little parlour, with the wind blowing on my face, and a strong smell of apothecary stuff affecting my nostrils. Seymour I recognised at once, standing at my head, with a face as doleful as if he had been guilty of manslaughter. Desmond and one of his bailiffs were looking on, and a couple of policemen gave interest to the group. A surgical-looking old gentleman was feeling my pulse, and two or three other people whom I did not know, but whose local importance authorised them to poke their noses into the transaction, were standing at the foot of the sofa. A buzz ran through the whole party when I revived, and I observed the servant who drove me out quit the room hastily, as if to impart the good news elsewhere.

the head; item, a serious bruise on the hip; item, a couple of ribs broken; and, all things considered, I regarded myself as being more fortunate than usual. Seymour's deepest sympathy I had, as a matter of course. People always have such a liking for their own jobs, even though they are not professionally entitled to kill or slay; but the joy of his sister when she learned that I was but slightly hurt, was more to me than the sympathy of all the lords of the creation together. She had fainted on the first report of fire-arms, and on her recovery received the distracting intelligence that her brother had shot a gentleman. I don't want to take credit to myself for all her woe, since even the death of a tinker under such circumstances would have been a serious affliction; however, that it was in some slight degree aggravated by my being the victim was an idea too pleasing to be abandoned. Be that as it may, as soon as my wounds and bruises were dressed, and my garments replaced according to the rules of decency, Seymour led her into the room to join him in thanking me for all I had done, and in pleading with him for pardon for his almost fatal rashness-a thing that I had forgotten already, dazzled by the hopes which now crowded upon me. A fig for Demerara! I should wait for the next packet at all events, and before that time I might have reason good to stay in Ireland.

To shorten my story, let me say that the surgeon refused to let me be removed for at least a week; and as Seymour refused to quit me for a moment, Grace had to return home by herself, promising to pay us a visit on the morrow. It is needless to say that double the pain I suffered would have been a cheap purchase for half the bliss; and, as I don't intend inflicting on you the journal of my sick room,-how I grew feverish with very delight, and recovered under the same stimulant, until at last I was permitted to change my quarters for the greater comforts which their residence in M Street afforded, let me omit the daily attentions of my gentle little Grace, the hourly cares of her brother, who at my instance moreover consented to rest satisfied with the bloodshed he had already perpetrated, and let Hall go to Jericho after his own fashion,-a sacrifice which after all he could not have helped making, for the fellow absconded next morning to Germany. Let me, in fine, transport myself to the quiet, cozy little study in M-Street, where a bed had been prepared for the invalid. It was the first day I had been allowed to take wine, and Mrs. Seymour and I were sitting by ourselves, Frank and Grace having gone out to pay a few visits. The worthy old woman being a bit of a proser, and deeming it her duty to keep me in chat, had commenced a long and edifying disquisition, displaying no small fund of labour and learned research, with the purpose of investigating within what possible degrees of consanguinity the Donellans of Killmony might, could, would, or should stand related to the Blakes of Fort something, from which ancient and respectable house she derived her origin. In vain, however, she laboured; to her infinite regret she could not make out even a thirtyfirst cousinship. Common politeness demanded I should come to the poor woman's rescue; and so, following the suggestions of the wine, I spoke my mind boldly, and proposed an arrangement which would obviate the necessity of tracing back so far for an alliance. You may guess the rest. In a year's time, when she reached her years of discretion, Grace Seymour became Grace Donellan. And now, how do you like my story?

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the head; item, a serious bruise on the hip; item, a couple of ribs broken; and, all things considered, I regarded myself as being more fortunate than usual. Seymour's deepest sympathy I had, as a matter of course. People always have such a liking for their own jobs, even though they are not professionally entitled to kill or slay; but the joy of his sister when she learned that I was but slightly hurt, was more to me than the sympathy of all the lords of the creation together. She had fainted on the first report of fire-arms, and on her recovery received the distracting intelligence that her brother had shot a gentleman. I don't want to take credit to myself for all her woe, since even the death of a tinker under such circumstances would have been a serious affliction; however, that it was in some slight degree aggravated by my being the victim was an idea too pleasing to be abandoned. Be that as it may, as soon as my wounds and bruises were dressed, and my garments replaced according to the rules of decency, Seymour led her into the room to join him in thanking me for all I had done, and in pleading with him for pardon for his almost fatal rashness a thing that I had forgotten already, dazzled by the hopes which now crowded upon me. A fig for Demerara! I should wait for the next packet at all events, and before that time I might have reason good to stay in Ireland.

To shorten my story, let me say that the surgeon refused to let me be removed for at least a week; and as Seymour refused to quit me for a moment, Grace had to return home by herself, promising to pay us a visit on the morrow. It is needless to say that double the pain I suffered would have been a cheap purchase for half the bliss; and, as I don't intend inflicting on you the journal of my sick room,--how I grew feverish with very delight, and recovered under the same stimulant, until at last I was permitted to change my quarters for the greater comforts which their residence in M Street afforded, let me omit the daily attentions of my gentle little Grace, the hourly cares of her brother, who at my instance moreover consented to rest satisfied with the bloodshed he had already perpetrated, and let Hall go to Jericho after his own fashion, -a sacrifice which after all he could not have helped making, for the fellow absconded next morning to Germany. Let me, in fine, transport myself to the quiet, cozy little study in M Street, where a bed had been prepared for the invalid. It was the first day I had been allowed to take wine, and Mrs. Seymour and I were sitting by ourselves, Frank and Grace having gone out to pay a few visits. The worthy old woman being a bit of a proser, and deeming it her duty to keep me in chat, had commenced a long and edifying disquisition, displaying no small fund of labour and learned research, with the purpose of investigating within what possible degrees of consanguinity the Donellans of Killmony might, could, would, or should stand related to the Blakes of Fort something, from which ancient and respectable house she derived her origin. In vain, however, she laboured; to her infinite regret she could not make out even a thirtyfirst cousinship. Common politeness demanded I should come to the poor woman's rescue; and so, following the suggestions of the wine, I spoke my mind boldly, and proposed an arrangement which would obviate the necessity of tracing back so far for an alliance. You may guess the rest. In a year's time, when she reached her years of discretion, Grace Seymour became Grace Donellan. And now, do you like my story?

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TAGLIONI.

FROM A POEM BY THE REV. J. MITFORD, PREFIXED TO THE NEW EDITION OF THE WORKS OF PARNELL.

THE universal admiration excited by the unrivalled grace and activity of Mademoiselle Taglioni produced the following poetical effusion from the
pen of the Rev. Mr. Mitford. It struck me, however, upon reading it, that the frequent classical allusions, and the high strain of poetical metaphor
but, I trust, not less acceptable to the lovers of Poetry and Motion.
pursued throughout the poem, might render it somewhat obscure to the general reader. I have, therefore, taken the liberty, by some slight alterations
and additions, and by occasionally drawing the allusive imagery from more common-place scenery and circumstances, to render it a little more familiar,
O. SMITH.

ONE moment linger! lo! from Venus' bowers
Descends the youngest of the roseate Hours:
She comes in all her blushing beauty, borne
From the far fountains of the purple morn,
Aurora's self! what time her brow resumes
The bright refulgence of its golden plumes.
Sylph of the earth! the sky! and oh! as fair
And beauteous as her sisters of the air.
In that sweet form what varied graces meet,
Love in her eye, and Music in her feet!
Light as the bounding fawn along the lea,
Or blythe bird glancing o'er the summer sea;
Light as the foam when Venus leaves the wave,
Or blossoms fluttering over April's grave.
Mark, on yon rose lights the celestial tread-
The trembling stalk but just declines its head
Sweet Ariel floats above her as she springs,
And wafts the flying fair, and lends her wings.
Now wreathed in radiant smiles she seems to glide
With buoyant footsteps like Favonius' bride,
Or Psyche, Zephyr borne, to Cupid's blushing side.
Her light cymar in lucid beauty streams,
Of woven air, so thin the texture seems.
Round her small waist the zone young Iris binds,
And gives the sandals that command the winds.
A thousand voices challenge Music's throne,
Daughter of air! this empire is thine own!
Here Taglioni reigns unrivalled and alone!

;

The father of Mademoiselle Taglioni rejoices in the sponsorial and patronymic

appellation of Philippe.

Terpsichore. Terpl for the sake of brevity, as we say Betsy for Elizabeth.
1 'Bus for Omnibus. Mr. Farren says Omnibl. Vide Doctor Dilworth.

ONE moment linger!-lo! from Venus' bowers,
Painted by Messieurs Grieve with fruit and flowers,
She comes in all her blushing beauty, borne
On canvass clouds to represent the morn,
Aurora's self! what time her brow resumes
The wreath that's scented with Delcroix' perfumes.
Sylph of the earth! the sky! and oh! as fair
As Op'ra dancers generally are.

""

In that sweet form what varied graces meet,
From sparkling eyes to tiny twinkling feet,
Light as the bounding fawn along the lea,
"Ac-tive and spry' as an industrious flea;
Light as the foam when Venus leaves the wave,
Without a rag appearances to save:
Mark on yon rose lights the celestial tread,
While agile carpenters decline its head;

Sweet Ariel floats above her as she springs,
And wafts the flying fair with wires and strings.
Now wreathed in radiant smiles she seems to glide,
And in a well-greased groove is made to slide;
Her light cymar in lucid beauty streams

'Mong fops and dandies crowding 'hind the scenes.
Round her small waist the zone young Iris binds,
And Corset Parisien her shape confines.

Fille de Philippe ! the ballet is thine own:
When o'er the water'd stage the whit'ning 's strown,
A thousand fiddles scrape round Terpi's throne.+
All are on tip-toe till thy toe's tip 's shown.

Places are purchased at a price unknown
When for thy farewell night Fame's trumpet 's blown,
To any,-(but the box-keeper alone).

With weight unusual then the benches groan:
Into the bus‡ sixteen are cramm'd-ochone !
In fact it is the greatest house e'er known.

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664

G.

Galatea, lines on, 271.

Gane, W. Law, the Sailor by, 357.
German Poets, specimens of modern, 573.
German Student's Tale, 516.
Ghost Gossips at Blakesley House, 462.

622.

INDEX.

Girl at No. 7, 507; see Old Ledger.
Grey Mare, the, see Old Ledger.
Guy Fawkes, an Historical Romance,
continuation of, the Star-Chamber,
1; the Jailor's Daughter, 3; the
Counterplot, 113; White Webbs, 121;
Marriage of Guy Fawkes and Viviana
Radcliffe, 225; the Capture of Guy
Fawkes, 233; Flight of the Conspira-
tors, 329; the Examination of Guy
Fawkes, 339; account of his under-
going the Torture, 441; the troubles
of Viviana, 453; Huddington, 551;
explosion at Holbeach, 564.

H.

L.

Lay of the Old Woman clothed in grey,
521.574.

I.

Legends, County, No. II. Nell Cook,
81; No. III. The Lay of the Old
Woman clothed in grey, 521, 574.
Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim, lines on Ga-
latea by, 271.
Light, a poem, 422; see Poems.
Lines to One far away, 149; on Elec-
tion Freedom, 179; on National De-
ficiencies, 254; to Paddy, 292; on the
successful getting-up of a new Come-
dy, 344; on the rumoured intention of
knighting Mr. Brunel, 461; to Myr-
tha, 473; to Hope, 592.
Linkman, the, 635.
Loewenthalt, Jesias Rumpler von, lines
to Hope by, 592.
Longfellow, Professor, the Village Black-
smith by, 53; It is not always May,

196.

"London Assurance," Light, by the
author of, 422.

Love Adventure, account of an Irish, 241.
Lundt, Zacharias, Bridal Hymn by, 530.

Hill, Thomas, account of, 86.
Hindostan, Hours in, 567.
Ho-Fi of the Yellow Girdle, story of,
305.

Hooton, Charles, Colin Clink by, 65.
Hope, a poem, 592.

Hora Offleanæ; or the Man about Town,
272; No. II. Bob Rambleton and his
brother, Sir John, 413.
Howitt, Mary, Speciinens of Modern Ger-
man Poets by, 573.
Hours in Hindostan, 567.
Hyson and Bohea, a Tale of the Tea-pot,
382.
Hymn, Bridal, 530.

Ingoldsby, Thomas, County Legends by,
No. II. Nell Cook, 81; No. III. the
Lay of the Old Woman clothed in grey,
521.574.

M.

M'Teague, P. Irish Superstitions by, 188.
Man about Town, Horæ Offleanæ by,
272. 413; see Hora Offleanæ.
Marine Memoranda, No. II. 206; No.
III. 503.

Irish Love Adventure, 241.

Irish Superstitions, 188.

It is not always May, a poem, 196; see
Poems.

Martin Opitz Von Boberfeld, Content-
ment, a poem by, 398.

Medwin, Captain, Sydney, from the Me-
moranda of a Physician, by, 168
Merrie England in the Olden Time; an-
cient sports and pastimes, 17. 129. 257.
361. 486. 593.

Mobility, Children of the, 164.
Modern English Dramatists, Mr. Serjeant
Talfourd, 301.

Moscherosch, J. M., Praise of Wine by,
186.

J.

Jeffs, Septimus, story of, 197.

J. S. lines on the successful getting-up of
a new Comedy by, 344.

K.

Kensall Grecu, visit to the Cemetery
there, 92.

Mountebank, the, No. III. of the Old

Ledger, 390; see Old Ledger.

Mump, story of the, 457.

Murray, Hon. R. Dundas, the Lonja of

Seville by, 583.

Mussulah Boat, 571.
My Grand Tour, 40.
Myrtha, lines to, 473.

N.

National Deficiencies, lines on, 254.
Nature, a Day with, 646.

Nell Cook!! A tale of the "Dark En-
try," 81; see County Legends.
Notes on some new Novels, 526.

North Pole, Rumfuskin, King of the, a
tragedy, 345.

Novels, notes on some new, 526.

0.

Ode, a classical one, with a free transla-
tion, 292.

INDEX.

Old Ledger, Introduction to the, 54; No.
I. The Grey Mare, 59; No. II. Septi-
mus Jeffs, 197; No. III. The Mounte-
bank, 390; No. IV. The Girl at No.
7, 507.

Old Woman clothed in Grey, Lay of the,
No. II. County Legends, 521. 574;
see County Legends.
"Omnibus," epistle from the, to Fanny
Elssler, 328.

One Hour with Death, a poem, 255; see
Poems.

Opinions of the "Times," 37.
O'Toole, Phelim, an Irish Love Adven-
ture by, 241; Adventure in the Fifteen
Acres, 647.

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Paddy, lines to, translation of a Classical
Ode, 292.
Pangloss, Dr., Notes on some new novels
by, 526.

Plain Advice to Mr. Gabriel Blackadder,
474.

Physician, tale from the memoranda of a,
168.
Poems-Victoria Regina, 38; the Village
Blacksmith, 53; When shall we three
meet again, 64; the Dancing Master,
157; in Praise of Wine, 186; Sum-
mer in the Heart, 208; One hour with
Death, 255; Contentment, 398; the
Return of the Birds, 421; Light, 422;
Wishes, 502; the Bridal Hymn, 530.
Poole, John, Rumfuskin, King of the
North Pole, a Tragedy for the First of
April, by, 345.

Pop" Visit, the, 150.
Porcelain Bath, see Bath.
Pouldu, the Mill of, 644.
Poyntz, Albany, Abdications, a Prize Es-
say by, 49; The Children of the Mobi-
lity, 164; Diary of a Dining-out Man,
280; Secrets of the Blue Chamber,399;
the Linkman, 635.
Praise of Wine, a poem, 186; see Poems.

Sailor, the, 357.

Sargent, Epes, Summer in the Heart, by,

208.

Secrets of the Blue Chamber, 399.
Septimus Jeffs, see Old Ledger.
Seville, the Lonja of, 583.

Smith, O., a Tough Yarn by, 158; lines
on Taglioni, 662.

9

Albert, a Rencontre with the Brig-
ands by, 375.

S. N. H., One Hour with Death by, 256.
Songs Of the Exile to Fatherland, 205;
The Wanderer, 506.

Sonnet on presenting a young lady with a
locket of hair, 573.

Stanley Thorn, his introduction to the
House of Commons, 98; the Petition,
its progress, and the result, 107; an
important disclosure in the affairs of
the Widow, 209; reconciliation between
Bob and Venerable Joe, 212; Stanley
resolves to retrieve his fortunes, 216;
the commencement of his speculations,
423; the Countess of Clarendale's Soi-
rée Musicale, 436; the Countess re-
ceives another lesson, 531; commence-
ment of Stanley's pecuniary embarrass-
ments, 536.

S.

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Rencontre with the Brigands, 375.
Return of the Birds, a poem, 421; see
Poems.
Rumfuskin, King of the North Pole, a
tragedy, 345.

T.

Taglioni, lines on, 662.

Talfourd, Mr. Serjeant, remarks on his
new Novels, 301.

Tale of the Tea-pot, Hyson and Bohea,
382.

Thorn, Stanley, see Stanley.
Three Ravens, story of the, 180.
Times, opinions on the, 37.
To One far away, lines, 149.
Tough Yarn, a, 158.
Tragedy, Rumfuskin, King of the North
Pole, 345.
"T. T. T." Hyson and Bohea, a tale by,
382;
the Porcelain Bath, 610.

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