spouse to the price-current, and the aver ages of rums, sugars, gingers, and arrow

root.

Twelve years passed, and the young Pimentos really began to grow, "very interesting" at the dinner-parties with which the hospitable merchant entertained his friends during school vacations, that the juveniles might see something of the world, and the world see something of the juveniles. Master Alfred could rant the soliloquies in Douglas, and, to shew the versatility of his genius, perform "Little Pickle," with an additional scene (got up by Lady Pimento herself, who began to betray symptoms of blue-ism), in which he set fire to a chintz curtain, broke some china chimney-ornaments, upset a dumbwaiter, and fired a cracker under the chair of his indulgent papa. The several parties who were made auditors of his pranks, pronounced him to be a prodigy in mischief; Lady P. was delighted; while the " judicious" Sir Peter grieved.

Master Augustus was also a prodigy, but in another line. He could hit the house-cat on the nose with a blunt arrow five times out of ten, and strike an egg out

of a breakfast-cup once out of twice, if he did not break both cup and egg at the first five. It was, indeed, prophesied by the sporting part of the city, that he must ultimately become the first shot of his day.

Miss Amarantha was the the third prodigy-a musical and metrical prodigy. In her eleventh summer, she could make verses; and, in her twelfth, marry metre to music, but, like most early marriages, they jangled most deplorably. Her master, Signor Soprano, pronounced her, as well as he could express his flattery, to be "a Billington in the bud," and her ladyship, as sugars were looking up" in the market, raised the professor's salary halfa-guinea per quarter.

Under the instruction of the Signor, Miss Amarantha had already began to scream out" sounds it was a misery to hear," and thump the piano in such a manner as was barbarous to behold. Di piacer, and Una voce poco fa, filled the town-house in Finsbury with "discords dire," the superflux half filling the area forming the square, and frightening that merchant-congregating spot " from its propriety." Lady P., however, and her coterie were delighted to observe the devotion with which the young lady went through the rudimentary martyrdom of her musical education.

I have foredated a principal incident in my history; for it was at this era that Peter Pimento, Esquire, became Sir Peter Pimento, Knight. He had been elected Sheriff of London; and an address of congratulation about something procured him the intoxicating honour of knighthood. Then it was that the Pimentos " looked up;" and Sir Peter, after much special pleading, for the sake of that peace of which, as sheriff, he was a public conservator, reluctantly agreed that a more fashionable house, and a more fashionable neighbourhood, were necessary to the double dignitaries of sheriff and knight. Accordingly, the Pimentos emigrated to Portland-place. Sir Peter, however, soon discovered that a residence so situated was too far from the city for commerce, and too near for the country air. One horn of this dilemma was soon gilt over: Lady P. insisted upon a second carriage. The merchant demurred, but in vain: it was ordered from Birch, Prince Leopold's builder; and Lady P. and Miss Amarantha kept it in activity,first, by shopping-expeditions, about the West End, in the morning, and, secondly, by putting in appearances in the Park two hours before dinner. Sir P. complained, and was told he could well afford a third carriage, for "ginger was in demand."-" Anything for a quiet life," thought Sir P.; and a third carriage was placed on the stocks. Lady P. then discovered that her "dear Alfred" could not positively take rank with the young nobility with whom he had bowed himself into acquaintance, if he was not allowed a cabriolet. Here Sir Peter did venture to rebel so far as to lift his eyebrows in astonishment; and a "D-n it, Madam, this is too much!" and a positive "No!" had half-escaped his lips, when the lady informed him, in her peremptory way, that opposition was useless-it was necessary to the dignity of the family; that she had ordered Birch to build a curricle for the "dear boy;" and that, if Sir Peter refused the expense, she would sustain it out of her private purse, for she was determined that the Pimentos should look up." Sir P. gave an audible "humph!" whistled a variation on a favourite air; and then, buttoning up his coat to the collar, walked as coolly as he could to Cornhill. Fortunately for his peace of mind, good tidings from Lloyd's met him there, and he began to think it not impossible that a merchant, whose profits were twenty thousand per

annum, might sustain the rise in the demands of Lady P. and her "dear" Alfred. But he had, for the hour, forgotten that he had also a "dear Augustus." The last named young gentleman had lately made a match with the Hon. Mr. Wingpigeon, and, presuming on the reputation acquired in the precincts of Finsbury, had staked a cool thousand on the issue, which the noble destroyer of doves very shortly brought down in bills at six months.

"Very well," said Sir Peter, when he was made acquainted with his son's exploit-"I had fixed just that sum for his education at Oxford: I perceive that it is already finished. Here, Lady Pi. mento, is a cheque for the trifle, as you are pleased to consider it:-if I had many such sons, such trifles would soon make me a broken merchant." A lucky speculation, the next day, restored the worthy knight to his usual placid state; and he began, philosophically, to consider children as a sort of commercial venture, which might turn out fortunate, pay the outfit, and reward the underwriters for the risk, or the reversejust as "the Fates and Sisters three, and such like destinies" decreed.

It was at this epoch that Lady P. was struck with the discovery that it was high time the interesting and accomplished Amarantha should be brought out. Her father listened, in his usual serene way, to the suggestions of her lady mother; and, as he dared not demur, the thing was set about with becoming spirit; and routs, balls, and, to complete all, a morning concert, made Portland-place one universal chaos of carriages, company, and confusion. The young lady was, indeed, brought out to some purpose; for, at the close of the morning concert, she was discovered to be missing, and no one knew how; but a polite note, left on her dressing-table, informed her expectant parents that she had gone the way of all runaway young ladies-via Gretna Green; the companion of her flight being the Signor Soprano, who had conferred on the concert the honour of his voice. Sir Peter stared, and looked puzzled, as well he might, and Lady P., for once, seemed baffled and confounded. "This is one of the consequences of teaching a merchant's daughter the trills and tricks of an opera-singer!" said Sir Peter, with a groan :-" Lady P., I hope you are satisfied with her choice, and gratified by this result of your precepts?" Lady P. did not look as if she was; but there was no knowing, for Signor Soprano was one of Lady P.'s "dear creatures."

"Surely every thing that could tend to deprive a father of pride and comfort in his children, has happened to me!" sighed out the merchant, as he stepped out of doors, on his way to the City; but he had reckoned without his ledger, as will be hereafter seen. However, to throw a little sunshine over that hour of unhappiness to the father, the merchant received the news of the safe arrival of "the good ship Amarantha," with a fine cargo, "all well!י

"Ah!" sighed Sir Peter, "the winds and waves are more obedient to my wishes, than my children!" With a lighter heart he transacted the business of the day, and returned home at five. A mob was about the door, a cabriolet broken, and a beautiful bay bleeding at the knees, told what had happened. He rushed in: Lady P. met him at the stairfoot.-"Oh, Sir Peter! Sir Peter!" exclaimed she, and fainted.

"What new horror have I next to en dure ?" demanded the anxious father, as his usual healthy hue forsook his face. It was explained to him, as tenderly as possible, that, whilst Mr. Alfred was airing" Mademoiselle Pirouette, the Opera-dancer-with whom, it then came out, he had "an affair of the heart"the bay, being high-bred, had taken fright at the red coat and wooden legs of a Chelsea pensioner, near Kensington Gardens, and plunging into the surrounding "Ha-ha!" had broken its knees, the cabriolet, Mr. Alfred's head, and Mademoiselle Pirouette's ankle.Here Lady P. recovered, and after listening, with more patience than usual, to the lecture which her worthy husband delivered on the fashionable follies which he could foresee were destined to ruin him and his children, Lady P. commenced a reply equally eloquent, in vindication of her dear Alfred." His errors were the errors of a young man of fashion, indications of the esprit de corps-signs of a noble ambition to be one of the haut ton. "And pray, Sir Peter," inquired the lady, to clinch the matter,

66

were you never guilty of any fashionable follies, when you were a young man?"-" None, Madam," replied the husband, "save going, once in the season, to Vauxhall, and twice or thrice to the theatres: these were follies sufficient to season a year. But now"

ried by her women to her bed-chamber. Sir Peter then took the road to his son's dressing-room.

On entering, he found the valet bathing the head of his heir-apparent with Eau-de-Cologne; and, truly, when the father looked in his face, he might well seem, as he was, puzzled, and somewhat dubious whether the good Samaritans who had brought him home had not brought some other unhappy father's "dear Alfred," for he could not recognize a single feature in his face.

"Good Heaven!" groaned the afflicted father, "that young men should thus wantonly risk limb and life in the pursuit of fashion!" He then gave a multiplicity of tender directions that "he should be well looked to;" and wiping the moisture of anxiety from his forehead, stept softly out of the room, to visit his least patient patient, Lady P. He knocked gently at the door, and then entered; but what was his surprise to find "the" Piroutte in his lady's bed, and Lady P. on an ottoman, not quite recovered from the shock of her nerves, yet sufficiently so to command Sir Peter to leave the chamber "for a brute as he was;" which he, as a husband should, did, and, in a minute more, the house.

He was met at the door by the stablekeeper of whom the bay had been hired, who very doggedly desired to know what was to be done with the mare, for she was beyond repair ? "Shoot her at once, out of her misery," said Sir Peter, "and, if you have a second bullet disengaged, do me the same favour, and put down another hundred to your bill!" - "Perhaps, Sir Peter, you will oblige me with your cheque for one hundred now for the bay?" Sir Peter hesitated a moment; "I'll see the damage done first, if you please, Mr. Mr.. Good morning, Sir!"-and he bowed the trickster from the door, and made his way to the City.

1

To be continued.

THE HOUR GLASS. For the Olio.

SIR HUMPHREY DAVY "Utilissimus ad autorem de singulis artibus liberalibus sententiam capiendam."

**

He died at Geneva on the 30th of last

Became more palpable to wond'ring eyes;
And, by a strong intelligence inspired,
He bore the ark of Knowledge o'er the seas
Of intellectual warfare. Long his name
Will, with his deeds, be heard in British land,
And echoed through the World. The Alche
mist,

First, chief, and wisest, in our time;-he
wrought
Discoveries, and improvements made. The
good

Of all mankind his object-may reward
Be his, who, in a foreign clime, obeyed
The voice of Nature!-May that

Lamp,"

Safety

Which guides the seaman from the ocean's Shoals, quicksands, rocks, and elemental dan

gulf,

great misfortune had befallen them. The event was judged to be highly important, and the intruder was put to the torture, in order to discover whether he had accomplices or not in this overt act of treason,for such it was considered to be by all the

Persians of the Court. But the only answer which they could extract from the unhappy man was, that he had acted most unintentionally, and without any ulterior views. This confession, in the opinion of the diviners, gave a more fatal complexion to the omen. Without a knowledge of eastern customs, it would have been impossible to discover why so much importance was paid to a trifling occurrence; but the following passage from the Emperor Baber's autobiography

THE following interesting passage, explaining, by the application of eastern customs existing in modern times, a singular incident that took place a short time previous to the fatal illness of Alexander, viz. the Greek slave's seating himself on the royal throne in the midst of the guards, we extract from the new Biography of the Macedonian hero, Alexander, which forms No. III. of the Family Library. -The author of the very valuable work before us is the Rev. J. Williams, Vicar of Lampeter, whose great classical attainments has enabled him to produce one of the most excellent little books of the present day-one that may be read by all classes with pleasure and profit: indeed a Life of Alexander, written with that conciseness which the memory can easily retain, has long been a desideratum, and we are glad to find one so ably and usefully supplied.

"A few days before the last illness of Alexander, he was busily employed in superintending the formation of his new corps. The tent, which was his favourite residence, was erected on the plain; and in front was placed the throne, whence he could inspect the proceedings. In the course of the day he retired to quench his thirst, and was attended by all the great officers, who left the throne under the sole care of the eunuchs of the palace. An obscure Greek, who was in the field, seeing the throne and the seats on both sides empty, with the eunuchs standing in rows behind, walked up, and deliberately seated himself upon the throne. The eunuchs, it appears, were prevented by the etiquette of the Persian Court from disturbing the intruder, but they raised a loud cry of lamentation, tore their garments, beat their breasts and foreheads, and showed other signs of grief, as if some

of eastern history.

"It is a singular custom in the history of Bengal, that there is little of hereditary descent in succession to the sovereignty. There is a throne allotted for the king; there is in like manner a seat or station assigned for each of the amîrs, vazîrs, and sobdars. It is that throne and these stations alone which engage the reverence of the people of Bengal. A set of dependants, servants, and attendants are annexed to each of these situations; when the king wishes to dismiss or appoint any person, whosoever is placed on the seat of the one dismissed is immediately attended and obeyed by the whole establishment of dependants, servants, and retainers annexed to the seat which he occupies; nay, this rule obtains even as to the royal throne itself, whoever kills the king and succeeds in placing himself on the throne, is immediately acknowledged as king. All the amîrs, vazîrs, soldiers, and peasants, instantly obey and submit to him, and consider him as much their sovereign as they did their former prince, and obey his orders as implicitly. The people of Bengal, say, We are faithful to the throne, whoever fills the throne we are obedient and true to it.'

"To this passage the editor of Baber, adds the following note:- Strange as this custom may seem, a similar one prevailed down to a very late period in Malabar. There was a jubilee every twelve years in the Samorin's country, and any one who succeeded in forcing his way through the Samorin's guards, and slew him, reigned in his stead. The attempt was made in 1695, and again a few years ago, but without success."

"The Persians and Medes were not Hindoos, but seem to have adopted many ceremonies from the Assyrians, who were a cognate people with Egyptians and

Indians. This doctrine of obedience to the throne had been established for the safety of the great body of the nation during civil contests. It furnished a valid excuse for obeying the king de jure. But the very principle adopted to insure the national tranquillity became one great cause of civil wars.

"For when any bold adventurer succeeded in gathering a sufficient number of marauders, bandits, and outcasts, not troubled with any conscientious scruples on the subject of passive obedience, he boldly claimed the throne, and success formed the best of titles.

"The chance of battle might prove fatal to the reigning monarch, and thus at once convert the loyal troops into a band of rebels. The Persians under Cyrus the younger, did not salute him as king, until they had witnessed the defeat of the royal army, although Cyrus had long before claimed the crown, because he was a better man than his brother.

"The assassination of Darius by Bessus, and his accomplices, must be referred to the same principle. By the murder of his sovereign, Bessus transferred his rights to himself. But had Darius fallen alive into the hands of Alexander, they would have devolved upon the captor. "Many battles in the east have been lost in consequence of this feeling. Mah moud of Ghisni gained the battle which opened India to his army, because the elephant of his victorious opponent became unruly and bore the Rajah off the field. And Dara, a descendant of the same Baber from whom we derive the knowledge of this feeling, lost the throne of Delhi, because in the battle which secured the crown to his brother Aurunzebe, he happened to dismount from his elephant in the heat of the contest.

"From this digression we may form some opinion of the reasons which induced the Persians to treat with such se

verity the chance occupant of the royal

seat of Alexander."

YEW TREES. (For the Olio.)

I love thee, melancholy yew!

Whose still green leaves in solemn silence Above the peasant's honour'd grave, Which oft thou moistenest with the morning

FEW trees, whether in the shady valley or the breezy hill, in the graceful shrubbery or the tameless forest, delight me like the yew. And yet it is not that misfortune or melancholy lead me to prefer its solemn shade to lighter and lovelier scenes; but it is the striking peculiarity in its appearance, the romanesque attributes with which superstition has invested it, and the deep interest of the spots with which it usually connects itself, that contribute to inspire me with an affection and respect for

"the double-fatal yew,"

beyond what I render to the claims of other trees.

Look, for instance, at yonder huge yew tree; behold his grand and massive trunk, red as if it had been painted by the idolmaker's vermilion, so anathematized in Scripture; furred over with a matting of minute foliage, embossed with many a polished knot, and braced with sinewy cordage, like the groove-work of a bread Norman pillar! See, canopying over this Herculean shaft, a wilderness of surly green-a vegetable Erebus, -so deep, so intricate, and so dark, that one would think a host of portentous owls might glare through its gloom with their saucer eyes, or make vocal its silence with their awful hooting. Yet, look nearer, and you discover that this mass of uncongenial green consists of myriad twigs of the most exquisite feathery form, and the most glossy and fadeless verdure, and that this dismal disheartening shade is illuminated by millions of little berries of a brilliant pink; flashing through the polished leafwork, their delicate colours contrast most happily with the sober solemnity of the boughs from which they swing: they look like painted beads, rose-coloured galalamps, or, if you will, fairy-gobblets of the ruddiest most transparent wax. sap of this mysterious tree is poisonous, its fruit pleasant and wholesome; you die

The

if you eat its leaves, you have a luscious banquet if you pluck its vermilion fruitage.

But the time when the yew-tree most delights me is in the sad and solemn expiry of the year. When the pleasant music of the summer-wood becomes a groan, when the painted foliage of its haughty boughs drops silently to the damp long grass beneath, and the chill dingy sky broods over it, like an intolerable bar, then the yew, majestic monster! reclines his vasty head in calm dignity against the gray heavens, his imperishable foliage apparently rejoicing in the absence of the gaudy light that flouted their decent gravity. And when the autumnal gusts roar and revel amid