himself one third, and enjoyed good health till the age of seventy-two. Numerous instances of the kind are mentioned, where journals of gradual reduction were kept. The following is an abstract of one of them, in the case of a person, who, on the 17th of June, 1820, weighed twenty-three stone, two pounds.

In another case, attended by Dr. Gregory of Edinburgh, the patient weighed twenty-three stone, (322 lbs.) and by a regular system of diet was brought down to fifteen stone, being a reduction of a hundred and twelve pounds. In this instance brown bread with a certain quantity of bran in it was employed. A baker in Pye Corner, (London.) weighed thirty-four stone, (476 lbs.) and would frequently eat a small shoulder of mutton, baked in his oven, and weighing five pounds: he, however, persisted for one year to live upon water gruel and brown bread, by which he lost two hundred pounds of his bulk.

Various expedients, in addition to an improved diet, have been resorted to, for the restoration of lean persons to a better case; but amongst the most singular which we have on record is that of flagellation. Galen says, that horse dealers having been observed to fatten horses for sale, by flogging them, an analogous method might be useful with spare persons who wish to become stouter. He, also, mentions slave dealers who employed similar means, Suetonius informs us that Musa, the favorite physician of Augustus, used to fustigate him, not only to cure him of sciatica, but to keep him plump. Meibomius pretends that nurses whip little children to fatten them, that they may appear healthy and chubby to their mothers. No doubt but flagellation determines a greater afflux of blood to the surface, and may thus tend to increase the circulation, and give tone to parts which would otherwise be languid.

THE BIT O'WRITIN', AND OTHER TALES, by the O'Hara Family. Two Volumes.

Carey and Hart.

“The O'Hara Family" is centred in the person of Banim, a deservedly successful novelist, a writer of wonderful power. His "Croohore na Bil Hoge" is one of the most touching things ever penned; and we have read several of the tales in the collection now before us that do not disgrace the fame connected with the writer's name. Banim cannot tell an Irish story with the fun and gig of Lover, nor can he depict the strange superstitious feelings of the Irish peasantry with the grace of Crofton Croker-but on the other hand, he stands unequalled in his display of the more serious passions agitating the bosoms of the ill-used kernes who people Ireland's bogs and lord-deserted plains. He is not so egotistical as Mrs. Hall, who, by the way has a thousand beauties to cover this single fault-but he possesses her power of description, with an added depth of feeling and discrimination of character. He never disappoints his reader-and we cannot desire more. The tales in this collection are all good—many of them are of surpassing excellence. Although twenty in number, there are none of them of sufficient brevity to admit of transposition into our pages, Indeed, the majority of them have already appeared in various of the English Magazines, and we have so many cotemporaries who are actively engaged in copying the contents of the British periodicals into their columns that we decline interfering with their established habits. The following quotation is well written, and is selected from a story which we believe appears for the first time in the pages of the work before us.

THE CHURCH-YARD WATCH.

[The story, which is too long for entire quotation, turns upon the brutality of an old sexton, who, employed as watchman in a country church-yard, determines to initiate his step son, a weak-minded lad, into his business, that he might uninterruptedly enjoy his nightly potations. The boy, who suffers more than usual from the rustic dread of ghosts, appeals pathetically to his mother's feelings, when informed of his step-father's determination.]

"Mother, mother, it would destroy the little life I have! I could not bear it for an hour! The dread I am in of it was born with me! When I was a child of four years, I had dreams of it, and I remember them to this day; they used to come in such crowds round my cradle! As I grew up, you saw and you know my weakness. could never sit still in the dark, nor even in the daylight out of doors in lonesome places. Now in my youth-a lad-almost a man-I am ashamed to speak of my inward troubles. Mother you do not know me-I do not know myself! I walk out sometimes down by the river, and, listening to the noise of the water over the rocks, where it is shallow, and to the rustling of the trees as they nod in the twilight, voices and shrieks come round me-sometimes they break in my ears-and I have turned to see what thing it was that spoke, and thought some gray iree at my side had only just changed and become motionless, and seemed as if, a moment before, it had been something else, and had a tongue, and said the words that frightened me!-Oh, it was but yester evening I ran home from the banks of the river, and felt no heart within me till I had come in here to the fireside, and seen you moving near me!

You know the lone house all in ruins upon the hill-I fear it mother more than my tongue can tell you! I have been taken through it, in my dreams, in terrible company, and here I could describe to you its bleak apartments, one by one-its vaults, pitch dark, and half filled with stones and rubbish, and choked up with

weeds-its winding, creeping staircases, and its flapping windows-I know them all, though my feet never yet crossed its threshold!-Never, mother-though I have gone near it, to enter it, and see if what I had dreamt of it was true-and I went in the first light of the morning; but when close by the old door-way, the rustle of the shrubs and weeds startled me, and I thought-but sure that was fancy-that some one called me in by my name-and then I turned and raced down the hill, never looking back till I came to the meadow ground where cows and sheep are always grazing, and heard the dogs barking in the town, and voices of the children at play!"

"Will, my king," said his mother, soothingly, "this is all mere childishness at your years. God is above us and around us; and even if evil and strange things are allowed to be on earth, he will shield us from all harm. Arouse up like a man! for, indeed, your time of boyhood is passing-nay it has passed with other lads not much older; only you have been poorly and weakly from your cradle, Will. Come, go to sleep; and before you lie down, pray for better health and strength to-morrow."

"To-morrow!" he repeated-" and did my step-father say any thing of to morrow?"

His mother answered him evasively, and he resumed," Oh, how I fear to morrow!-oh, mother you have loved me, and you do love me—for my weakness, my ill-health and my dutifulness—and you loved my father -oh, for his sake as well as mine, mother, keep me from what I am threatened with!-keep me from it, if you would keep me alive another day?"

He went into his little sleeping-apartment, stricken to the very soul with supernatural fears.

After spending a miserable night, he stole out of the house next morning, and wandered about the private walks adjacent to the town, until he thought his step-father might have arisen and taken his usual waik to the Tap. But as the lad was about to re-enter the house, Hunks met him at the threshold. Will shrunk back; to his surprise and comfort, however, his fears now seemed ill-founded. The man bid him good-morrow in as cheerful and kind a tone as he could command, shook his hand, tapped him on the head and left the house. Delighted, though still agitated, Will sought his mother within doors told her his good omens, and spent a happy day. At dinner, too, notwithstanding Hunks' presence, the mother and son enjoyed themselves, so amiable had the despot become, at least in appearance.

When their meal was over, Hunks, as if to attain the utmost civility, invited Will to go out with him for a walk by the river" and let's have Barker (Wili's dog) for company," continued Hunks; "he may show us sport with a rat, or such like, Will."

Accordingly, the three strolled out together, Will leading the way by many a well known sedge or tuft of bushes, or undermined bank, the resorts of the water rat, and sometimes of the outlaw otter; and Barker upheld his character, by starting, hunting down, and killing one of the first mentioned animals. As twilight came on, they turned their faces towards the tittle town. They entered it. Its little hum of life was now hushed, its streets silent, and almost deserted; its doors and windows barred and bolted, and the sounds of the rushing river and the thumping mill were the only ones which filled the air. The clock pealed ten as they continued their way. Hunks had grown suddenly silent and reserved. They passed the old Gothic church, and now were pasing the gate which led into its burial-ground. Hunks stopped short. His gray, bad eye fell on the lad-" Will," he said, "I be thinking we've walked enough for this time."

"Enough, indeed,—and thank you for your company-and good night, father," answered Will, trying to smile, though he began to tremble.

Good night then, my man-and here be your watch-light"-and Hunks drew a dark lantern from his huge pocket.

"Nay, I want no light home," said Will; "I know the way so well; and 'tis not very dark; and you knew you can't do without it on your post."

My post!" Hunks laughed villanously-" your post you mean, Will; take it; I be thinking I shall sleep sound to night without a dead-light-as if I were a corpse to need it. Come along."

Pho, my man"-Hunks clutched him by the shoulder with one hand, with the other unlocked the gate and flung it open-" In with you; you'll like it so in a few nights, you'll wish no better post; the dead chaps be civil enough; only treat them well, and let them walk awhile, and they make very good company." He dragged Will closer to the gate.

"Have mercy!" shrieked the wretched lad, trying to kneel, " or kill me first, father, to make me company for them, if that will please you.”

"Get in!" roared the savage-" get in!-ay, hollo out, and twist about, so, and I'll pitch your shivering carcass half way across the church-yard!"--he forced him in from the gate-"stop a bit, now-there be your lantern" he set it down on a tomb stone-"so, good night-yonder's your box-just another word, don't you be caught strolling too near the murderer's corner, over there, or you may trip and fall among the things that turn and twine on the ground, like roots of trees, to guard him."

With a new and piercing shriek, Will clung close to his fell tormentor. Hunks, partially carrying into effect a threat he had uttered, tore the lad's hands away, tossed him to some distance, strode out at the gate, ocked it, and Will was alone with horror.

At first an anguish of fear kept him stupified and stationary. He had fallen on a freshly-piled grave, to which mechanically his fingers clung and his face joined, in avoidance of the scene around. But he soon recollected what clay it was he clung to, and at the thought, he started up, and, hushed, as the sleepers around him, made some observations. High walls quite surrounded the churchyard, as if to part him from the habitable world. His lamp was burning upon the tombstone where Hunks had placed it-one dim red spot amid the thick darkness. The church clock now tolled eleven. It ceased; his ears ached in the resumed silence, and he listened and stared about him for what he feared. Whispers seemed to arise near him; he ran for his lamp, snatched it up, and instinctively hurried to the watch-box. Oh, he wished it made of solid rock!—it was chiefly framed of glass, useless as the common air to his terrors! He shut his eyes, and pressed his palms upon them-vain subterfuge! The fevered spirit within him brought before his mind's vision worse things than the church-yard could yawn up, were all that superstition has fancied of it true. He looked out from his watch-box in refuge from himself.

That evening a half-moon had risen early, and, at this moment, was sinking in gathering clouds behind distant hills. As he vaguely noticed the circumstance, he felt more and more desolate. Simultaneously with the disappearance of the planet, the near clock began again to strike-he knew what hour! Each stroke

smote his ear as if it would crack the nerve; at the last sound, he shrieked out delirious! He had a pause from agony, then a struggle for departing reason, and then he was at rest.

At day-break his step-father found him asleep. He led him home. Will sat down to breakfast, smiling, but did not speak a word. Often, during the day, his now brilliant eye turned to the west; but why, his mother could not tell; until, as the evening made up her couch of clouds there, drawing around her the twilight for drapery, he left the house with an unusually vigorous step, and stood at the gate of the churchyard. Again he took up his post. Again the hour of twelve pealed from the old church, but now he did not fearit. When it had fully sounded, he clapped his hands, laughed and shouted.

The imaginary whispers he had heard the previous night-small, cautious, whispers-came round him again; first, from a distance, then, nearer and nearer. At last he shaped them into words-" Let us walk," they said "though he watches us, he fears us." He!-'twas strange to hear the dim dead speak to a living man, of himself! the maniac laughed again at the fancy, and replied to them :

"Ay, come! appear! I give leave for it. Ye are about in crowds, I know, not yet daring to take up your old bodies till I please; but up with them!-Graves, split on, and yield me my subjects? for am I not king of the church-yard? Obey me! ay, now your mouths gape-and what a yawning!-are ye musical, too?-a jubilee of groans! out with it, in the name of Death!-blast it about like giants carousing!

“Well blown!—and now a thousand heads popped up at once-their eyes fixed on mine, as if to ask my farther leave for a resurrection; and they know I am good-humoured now, and grow upward, accordingly, like a grove of bare trees that have no sap in them. And now they move; passing along in rows, like trees, too, that glide by one on a bank, while one sails merrily down the river-and all is stark staring still; and others stand bolt upright against their own headstones to contemplate. I wonder what they think of! Move! move! young, old, boys, men, pale girls, and palsied grandmothers-my church-yard can never hold 'em! And yet how they pass each other from corner to corner! I think they make way through one another's bodies, as they do in the grave. They'll dance anon. Minuets, at least. Why they begin already!-and what partners!-a tall, genteel young officer takes out our village witch-of the-wield-she that died at Christmas-and our last rector smirks to a girl of fifteen-ha, ha! yon tattered little fellow is a radical, making a leg to the old duchess!-music! music!—Go, some of you that look on there, and toll the dead bell! Well done they tie the murderer to the bell-rope by the neck, (although he was hanged before,) and the bell swings out merrily! but what face is here?"

It was the vision of a child's face, which he believed he caught staring at him through the glass of his watch-box-the face of an only brother who had died young. The wretch's laughter changed into tears and low wailings. By the time that his mother came to seek him, just at day-break, he was, however, again laughing; but in such a state as to frighten mirth from her heart and lips till the day she died. As has been said, symptoms of positive insanity did not long continue to appear in his words or actions; yet, when he recovered, there was still a change in him-a dark and disagreeable change, under the inveterate confirmation of which, the curious student of human nature may, at this moment, observe him in his native village.

NAPOLEON AND HIS TIMES; BY CAULINCOURT, DUKE OF VICENZA. Two Volumes. Carey and Hart.

These reminiscences form the very best book about Napoleon, of the one hundred and one that have been published. Caulincourt's chit-chat is lively, racy, and characteristie. Every page teems with anecdote and interest; and the admirers of the Corsican conqueror may glean fresh traits of temper and development of his manners and habits in every chapter. Some interested persons, in Europe, spread reports of the want of authenticity in the details furnished by the writer, who is supposed to record her conversations with the duke of Vicenza; these allegations have never been supported by personal contradiction or approved falsification; we have, therefore, as much right to suppose them matter of fact as any other specimen of book making upon the value of Napoleon's name. They only pretend to be the remembrance of various conversations with an old comrade of the Emperor's, wherein he gives his recollections of matters and people as they revert to his memory. The thing is remarkably well done, and appears as true as any of the other affairs of the same description.

We append a few extracted items, which afford an honest specimen of the value of the work.

"Our rencontre with this maniac," said the Duke de Vicenza," reminds me of a circumstance which occurred at our entrance into Pyrna in 1813. On that occasion we were obliged to remove the patients from the lunatic hospital to make room for our wounded troops. Indispensable as this measure was, yet the Emperor reluctantly saw it adopted. He sent to inquire how the unfortunate lunatics had been disposed of. The town was completely filled with our troops, and they were temporarily lodged in one of the churches. Among the lunatics, there was a woman who fancied herself the mother of God. On entering the church, she installed herself in the chapel of the Virgin, and did the honors as a lady would in her own drawing-room. How happy I am,' said she, at finding myself removed to the house of my son. Offer my thanks to Bona. parte, sir,' said she, addressing herself to a French officer. Tell him he will be welcome here. My son and I expect a visit from him.'

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"Another patient, a very beautiful young lady, connected with a family of rank, had fallen in love with Napoleon, during the wars of 1807. She would not answer to any other name than Napoleonida. During her removal from the hospital to the church, the sight of the French uniform appeared to make a forcible impression on her, and she expressed an earnest wish to see her Napoleon. With her long fair hair dishevelled, her eyes suffused with tears, and her hands joined, she ran about imploring every one she met to conduct her to Napoleon. She repeated this request with indefatigable perseverance to every officer who visited the church in which the lunatics were lodged. Turenne, the Emperor's equerry, related the story of the unfortunate young lady to his Majesty, and asked whether he would be pleased to see her. By no means, Turenne,' replied the Emperor, smiling. I have lunatics enough in France, without troubling my head about those of Bohemia.'

"I accompanied the Emperor (I think in 1807) on a visit to the Maison Royale at Charenton. He inspected the establishment in its most minute details, made inquiries into all the remedies that had been tried, and all the cases which presented a probable chance of recovery. He was much interested by this visit, and when he left the Maison Royale he gave particular orders that the poor lunatics should be treated kindly.' "On his return from Charenton, the Emperor seemed thoughtful. This visit,' said he to me, has made me melancholy. Insanity is a frightful degradation of human nature. I shall never go mad, that is certain. My head is of iron (this is an expression which he often employed.) Despair, indeed, is another thing! I have fixed ideas upon that subject. Some time or other, Caulincourt, it is possible you may hear that I have deprived myself of life, but never that I have lost my senses.'

Frogère, a French actor, gives himself wondrous airs at the court of Alexander, emperor of all the Russias.

"There was a company of French actors at St. Petersburg; Mesdemoiselles Georges and Bourgoin, and Duport, of the Opera, were among them, and excited great admiration. The comedian, Frogère, a pupil of Dugazon, was a young man of agreeable manners, and possessed considerable talent. He had a good stock of that ready wit which is estimated highly in all countries. Frogère amused the Emperor, who treated him with wonderful condescension. This encouraged him to draw largely on his Majesty's favor. Frogère was freely admitted into the highest society. There was no fête at the palace, at the Embassy, or at the residences of the nobility, to which Frogère was not invited. In short, he was quite the rage.

"One evening, at a party given by the Emperor, Frogère stepped up to the Emperor, and, drawing from his pocket an enormous snuff box filled with ducats, he presented it to his Majesty, saying, 'Sire, will you take a pinch?'

"What is the meaning of this joke?' inquired Alexander, with a good-humored smile.

"It means, sire, that if your Majesty would take a pinch I shall feel much honored. M. Demidoff, who sent me this snuff box to day, informs me, that if your Majesty would be pleased to confer upon him the dignity of Knight Commander of Malta, which you promised him, he would often send me a supply of this snuff.' "Well, well, my dear Frogère, I will take care that you shall often have a pinch of Demidoff's snuff.’ Soon after this, the wished-for cross was seen on M. Demidoff's breast.

"The Emperor Alexander was one day conversing with Frogère on the dramatic art, and the pleasure of an actor's life. In the course of the conversation, Frogère observed You have no need to envy any one, sire. The truth is, that if I were not the actor Frogère, I should wish to be the Emperor of Russia.'

"The first presentation of Frogère to the Grand Duke Constantine took place one morning at the hour when the duke received his familiar visiters, whilst he was at his toilette. His Imperial Highness drew on a pair of yellow leather pantaloons, such as were worn at that time. Having found some fault with them, he drew them off again, and desired his valet to bring him another pair. Constantine, though his countenance was far from handsome, possessed a very fine figure, and he bestowed great attention on his dress. The Grand Duke, wholly intent on the business of his toilette, had not addressed a word to Frogèrre, when the latter said

"Monseigneur! I am not your dupe!'

"The Grand Duke turned round sharply, and, advancing towards Frogère, with an angry look, said— What do you mean by that?'

"I mean, your Highness, that I am not your dupe. You wish to show me that you have a handsome leg, and that you have two pairs of pantaloons at your service.'

"Every one present burst into a fit of laughter, and from that time Frogère became a favorite with the Grand Duke.

"In France," added the Duke de Vicenza, "we have no taste for extravagances of this sort. Napoleon would have thrown Frogère out of the window."

The devotedness of the French soldiers to their warrior king, is evidenced in the following anecdotes:

"I could relate many traits of those brave old guards, who were treated with so much indignity after the fall of Napoleon. I, who had the opportunity of being a close observer of the gallant conduct of this corps, must ever be its panegyrist. The humble uniform of every private soldier enveloped a hero, who, though rude in aspect, was endowed with chivalrous loyalty and courage. The glory of the Roman phalanxes is eclipsed by that of the Imperial Guard. History will inscribe that glory in letters of gold when she records the events of Fontainebleau and Waterloo. It is one of the most extraordinary traditions of the empire.

"It was curious to observe the attachment, confidence, and familiarity, which existed between the humblest of the soldiers and the most absolute sovereign that ever existed. There was not one of Napoleon's intimate friends, however high in rank, who would have ventured to indulge in the sort of camaraderie which was kept up between the Emperor and his old moustaches. And these same men would not have ventured to speak to one of their lieutenants in the familiar tone in which they addressed the redoubted chief of the army. They regarded Napoleon as a being different from all others, and combining within himself the attributes of sovereign, country, and family. He inspired them with a language which they addressed only to him, and words which they uttered only in his presence. Nothing used to amuse Napoleon so much as this familiarity of the soldiery, and he always replied to them with truly paternal kindness.

"About the middle of the day the rain began to descend with redoubled violence. The Emperor, who had been on horseback since daybreak, was literally soaked to the skin, and an appearance of extreme lassitude was observable in all his movements.

sen.

“On the left, in the direction of the Gross Garten, a battalion of grenadiers of the old guard grouped round a battery, had sustained, since the commencement of the action, the violent assaults of the cavalry of BeningThe conservation of that battery was exceedingly important. At one moment the enemy's firing ap peared to relax, and the Emperor observing this circumstance, spurred his horse, and galloped, amidst the heat of the engagement, between the enemy's cavalry and our artillery. The ground was thickly strewed with the bodies of the slain. This position costs us dear,' said he, petulantly; then a moment afterwards, he added with a look of satisfaction, I knew that my guard would not surrender it to the Russians.'

"Let them come back again at their peril,' exclaimed, with a menacing gesture, an old artilleryman, whose head had just received a sabre wound, and was bandaged up with a handkerchief saturated with blood. Then turning to the Emperor, he said, 'This is not a fit place for you. Go away. You are more ill than any of us; go and take some rest.'

"I will, when we have won the battle,' said the Emperor. "My comrade is right, sire, said a veteran grenadier.

Your Majesty is wet to the skin. Pray go and get your clothes changed.' The brave fellow uttered these words in the tone of supplication, which a son might be expected to employ towards a beloved father.

"I will rest when you can all rest, my lads; that is to say, when the battle is ended.'

Now, sire,

"I know that your Majesty has that battery at heart,' said the grenadier, but we will take care that the Russians don't get it. Will we not, comrades?' He was answered by a shout of acquiescence. since we answer for the safety of the battery, surely you may go and take a little rest.' "Very well, my good fellows, very well. I trust to you," and he galloped off, smiling.

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"We went down to the court-yard of the palace. Day was just beginning to dawn. When the Emperor saw the squadron on duty drawn up in the court-yard, he could not repress an exclamation of surprise. The squadron was composed of some grenadiers of the old guard, who, on the preceding day, had served as the Emperor's escort, and who had returned with us to Dresden, soaked through with rain. To see them again at five in the morning, in smart uniforms, presenting arms, and looking as trim as if they had been on parade at the Tuileries, seemed like the work of magic.

"Why, my lads, you must have spent the night in equipping yourselves, instead of taking your rest,' said the Emperor, in a tone of kind reproach.

"Rest! we have not had much of that,' replied one of the men. But no matter! We have had as much as your Majesty!'

"I am accustomed to go without rest.' He cast his eye on a gruff-looking quarter-master, and recognising his countenance, he said

"You served in Egypt, I think?'

"I am proud to say I did. I was at Aboukir; and I remember it was hot enough there.'

"You have no decoration, I perceive.'

"It will come some time or other,' said the quarter-master, somewhat sullenly.

"It has come,' said the Emperor. I give you the cross.'

"The poor fellow was quite overcome by joy and gratitude. He fixed on the Emperor a look which it is impossible to describe, and the tears overflowed his eyes. I shall lay down my life for your Majesty to-day, that is certain,' said he. In his transport he seized the skirt of the Emperor's famous gray great-coat, and putting it into his mouth, bit off a fragment, which he placed in his button-hole.

"This will do till I get the red riband, please your Majesty.'

"The Emperor was deeply moved by this incident. He spurred his horse and galloped off, his escort following and raising shouts of joy. The King of Saxony, who was a witness of this scene, sent that same evening twenty gold Napoleons to the quarter-master, with a message, informing him that the money was 'to purchase a red riband.'

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"About noon, we were attacked on all points by the whole combined forces of the allies. Our army, reduced to less than a hundred thousand men, had now to oppose a force of three hundred and fifty thousand, concentrated en masse in a semi-circle of from three to four leagues in extent, and with twelve hundred pieces of cannon. Thus the enemy had constantly fresh troops in reserve, to fill up the gaps caused by our artillery. "Throughout that fatal day every hour was marked by a new misfortune-a new loss. The deaths of Generals Vials and Rochambeau were successively announced. The fog, the smoke, and the tumult of the melée, scarcely permitted us to recognise each other. We found it very difficult to follow the Emperor. We repeatedly lost sight of him. He was continually moving from place to place, braving the greatest dangers, and disdaining life without victory.

"Hitherto the conflict had been maintained with various chances on both sides An aide-de-camp of General Regnier arrived. He brought intelligence that the Saxon army and the Wurtemberg cavalry, under General Normann-that is to say, twelve thousand men and forty pieces of artillery, had gone over to Bernadotte. The latter had ordered the commander of the Saxon artillery to turn his guns and fire on the French. For some moments the Emperor sat on his horse as motionless as a statue. He raised his eyes as if appealing to the justice of Heaven. Infamous! he exclaimed. The word was repeated by a thousand voices. Imprecations and expressions of rage resounded on all sides. Several Saxon officers, who remained faithful to us, broke their swords, and overcome by shame for the baseness of their countrymen, retired to the rear of the army. No matter,' said a dragoon of the escort; we can do without the cowardly dogs. Your Majesty has still your French army to count upon! He darted with the rapidity of lightning into the midst of the melée. Shouts of Vive l'Empereur! Mort aux Saxons! were echoed from mouth to mouth. All the escort followed the dragoon. The officers alone remained at their post near the Emperor.

"A few minutes afterwards a young officer of hussars, whose name I forget, rushed headlong into the enemy's ranks. In a charge some of the miserable renegades had carried off one of our eagles. The gallant young officer rescued it, but it was at the cost of his life. He threw it at the Emperor's feet, and then he himself fell, mortally wounded, and bathed in his blood. The Emporor was deeply moved by this incident: 'With such men,' said he, what resources does France possess !'"'

THE WORKS OF L. E. LANDON. Two Volumes. Carey and Hart.

We hail these volumes with the glad shout of welcome. 'Letty Lizzy Landon," as Horace Smith, with delectable alliteration, calls the charming L. E. L., is one of the purest writers of the age; her novels are choice specimens of composition, without the accustomed drawbacks of vulgar humor or fashionable twaddle. She has never penned a line," which, dying, she would wish to blot," and yet her pictures of life are real