of which the convicts listened with a sinistrous pleasure. At the enumeration of the diamonds and jewels carried off, their eyes sparkled, their muscles contracted by a convulsive motion; and by the expression of their countenances, inferences might have unerringly been drawn of the first uses they would have made of their liberty. This disposition was particularly discernible in those men convicted of petty offences only, who were taunted and bantered as having stolen objects of small value only; and then, after estimating the plunder of the wardrobe at twenty millions of francs, Deschamps added, with an air of contempt towards a poor devil sentenced for stealing vegetables, "Ah, ah! this was cabbage!"

TURNER ON HIS TRAVELS.

A young merchant going to Bologna, who did not know Turner even by name, has left the following sketch of him: "I have fortunately met with a good-tempered funny little elderly gentleman, who will probably be my companion throughout the journey. He is continually popping his head out of window to sketch whatever strikes his fancy, and became quite angry because the conductor would not wait for him whilst he took a sunrise view of Macerata. 'D- the fellow!' says he, he has no feeling.' He speaks but a few words of Italian, about as much of French, which two languages he jumbles together most amusingly. His good temper, however, carries him through all his troubles. I am sure you would love him for his indefatigability in his favourite pursuit. From his conversation he is evidently near kin to, if not absolutely, an artist. Probably you may know something of him. The name on his trunk is J. W. or J. M. W. Turner."

CANON BOWLES'S ABSENCE OF MIND.

In early life it is related that Bowles came to London for the express purpose of waiting on the Archbishop of Canterbury to solicit a vacant living, but omitted to leave his address; and, quitting London abruptly, he could not be found when the prelate sought him a few days afterwards.

At another time Bowles started from Bremhill, on horseback, to ride to Chippenham ; he dismounted to walk down a steep hill, leading the horse by the bridle slung across his arm, and continued to the turnpike gate, where he offered to pay the toll, and was not a little surprised when the gate

keeper said, "We doon't charge nothing for your honour, as you bean't on osback." On turning round he perceived the bridle dangling on his arm, but could not descry his horse.

ST. SIMONISM.

Pere Enfantin, the leader of the disciples of St. Simon, was the prince of fanatical mystics. He advanced pretensions of the most extravagant kind, but which, notwithstanding, were fully acknowledged by men who have since become eminent both in letters and political science. He held direct communication with heaven. He was the Free Man; and as soon as they could discover the Free Woman, the regeneration of the world would immediately commence, and the new religion would spread over the globe. He induced men to give up all they had to follow him; he prescribed rules of life, costume, and worship, which were implicitly received by ardent followers; he was persecuted by the Parisians, who laughed at the strange dresses and habits of the new order, and he was prosecuted by the French authorities, who detest all apostles. Men actually went to Egypt and Syria in search of the Free Woman, but in vain; and at this moment (1864,) Enfantin, after sorting letters and selling stamps as the postmaster of a provincial town, is an official on the Lyons railway-Saturday Review.

TEMPTING OPPORTUNITY.

On one occasion the late Viceroy of Egypt was made to pay 70,000l. (or at the rate of 10,000l. a piece) for seven large and splendidly-framed mirrors, from Paris-the prime cost of which was 250l. a piece! The same man who pocketed this profit had a contract to supply Said's army with buttons, on the occasion of some change of uniform. Now, Said, who was fond of military tailoring, and little as he knew of the prices of things, did know nearly the fair cost of military buttons. Disgusted by the exorbitant charge for this item, he sent for his favourite, the French contractor, and, pointing to the total of his bill, flung it down indignantly, saying, in French, "It is an infamous robbery; I won't pay it." On this the Frenchman coolly replied, "If I don't rob your Highness, who the deuce would you have me rob?" The Viceroy was so delighted at the impudence and humour of the man, that he passed his account, and the Frenchman received his money, and boasted of the presence of mind to which he owed it.

PLAYERS AND PAINTERS.

THE ACTOR AND THE ARCHBISHOP.

"Pray, Mr. Betterton," asked the good Archbishop Sancroft of the celebrated actor, "can you inform me what is the reason you actors on the stage, speaking of things imaginary, affect your audience as if they were real; while we in the church speak of things real, which our congregations receive only as if they were imaginary ?" "Why, really, my lord," answered Betterton, “I don't know; unless it is that we actors speak of things imaginary as if they were real, while you in the pulpit speak of things real as if they were imaginary." It is a clever answer; and as applicable now as when the archbishop put the question.

COLLEY CIBBER'S FIRST FINE.

Cibber, when he took to the stage, was known only, for some years, as "Master Colley." At length, by good fortune, he obtained from the prompter the honour of carrying a message on the stage, in some play, to Betterton. Whatever was the cause, Colley was so terrified that the great actor was disconcerted by him, and asked angrily, who the young fellow was that committed the blunder. Downes, the prompter, replied, "Master Colley." "Master Colley! then forfeit him." "Why, sir," said the prompter, "he has no salary." "No!" said Betterton, "why then put him down ten shillings a week, and forfeit him five."

GARRICK'S FIRST APPEARANCE.

Horace Walpole strangely under-estimated Garrick's acting. Writing May 26, 1742, he says: "All the run now is after Garrick, a wine-merchant, who is turned player at Goodman's

Fields. He plays all parts, and is a very good mimic. His acting I have seen, and may say to you, (Sir Horace Mann,) who will not tell it again here, I see nothing wonderful in it; but it is heresy to say so the Duke of Argyle says he is superior to Betterton."

Garrick made his first appearance in London at Goodman's Fields Theatre, Oct. 19, 1741, in the character of Richard III. Walpole does not appear to have been singular in the opinion here given. Gray, in a letter to Chute, says: "Did I tell you about Mr. Garrick, that the town are horn-mad after; there are a dozen dukes of a night at Goodman's Fields sometimes; and yet I am stiff in the opposition."

GARRICK AND MRS. CLIVE.

Garrick's genius threw every other performer into the shade: even Mrs. Clive, with all her original merit, found the impression she made on her audiences rapidly diminish. Her temper was violent, and her manners were coarse. She vented her spleen without restraint upon Garrick, and sometimes endeavoured to undervalue his talents. One night, she witnessed from the wings his performance of Lear, and became absorbed in the masterly delineation, in spite of herself; and, at last, after repeated alternations of tears and abuse, wholly overcome, she rushed to the green-room, and broke into the following uncouth but expressive tribute to the universality of Garrick's genius :-"Curse him! I believe he could act on a gridiron !"

GARRICK'S OTHELLO.

In the season of 1745, Garrick acted the character of Othello, but failed so entirely in the part that this was his only performance of it. Quin had already rendered himself famous in it, and determined to judge for himself of his rival's acting. Quin went to the theatre on the above night, and ensconced himself in the pit. There had just appeared Hogarth's famous prints of "Marriage à la Mode," in one of which, it will be remembered, is introduced a negro footboy entering the apartment with a tea-equipage. To the quick fancy of Quin, (naturally on the watch to turn his rival into ridicule,) there appeared a ludicrous similarity between the

appearance of the footboy and the blackened face and diminutive figure of Garrick. Accordingly, when the latter appeared in the third or fourth act, Quin suddenly exclaimed, loudly enough to afford amusement to the pit, "Here is Pompey, but where are the tea-things?" The effect on the sensitive Garrick by the notoriety given to this anecdote may be imagined. Many years afterwards, Dr. Griffiths, the editor of the Monthly Review, inquired of Garrick, among a circle of friends, whether he had ever performed the part of Othello? The question was asked in perfect ignorance, both of Garrick's failure, and of the story of Quin's witticism; nevertheless, the effect which it produced on the great actor painfully forced itself on his expressive countenance, and was never forgotten by those who witnessed the scene. 66 Sir," he replied, with evident bitterness of feeling, "I once acted the part to my cost."

GARRICK CRITICISED.

One evening, at Streatham, Mrs. Thrale praised Garrick's talent for light, gay poetry; and as a specimen, repeated his song in "Florizel and Perdita," and dwelt with peculiar pleasure on this line:

"I'd smile with the simple, and feed with the poor!"

Upon this Johnson said, "Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor David! Smile with the simple! what folly is that? And who would feed with the poor that can help it? No, no let me smile with the wise and feed with the rich." Boswell repeated this sally to Garrick, and wondered to find his sensibility as a writer not a little irritated by it. To soothe him Boswell said, "Johnson spares none of us; and I quoted the passage in Horace, in which he compares one who attacks his friends for the sake of a laugh, to a pushing ox that is marked by a bunch of hay put upon his horns: frænum habet in cornu. "Ay," said Garrick, vehemently, "he has a whole mow (stack) of it."

GARRICK'S STUDY OF INSANITY.

A worthy man, whilst playing with his only child at an open window, accidentally let it fall upon the pavement beneath. The poor father remained at the window screaming