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thought his christian name was Martin and the other, like hers, Caillou -Martin Caillou!"

"So it is in point of fact, but, for some reason that I never heard of, he is always called Bobêche, at least along the roads on which he travels. It is not a name familiar to his sister, and on that account you have never heard her use it, but ask for him by another at any of the places he frequents, at Paris, Lille, Lyons, or anywhere else, and you will get no news of him."

I knew enough of the habits of the courier tribe not to be surprised at this intimation; indeed the greater part of my own acquaintance were known to me, and probably to themselves, only by their nicknames.

"Well," said I," and what sort of a fellow do you consider Bobêche?" "A perfect specimen of his class--that is to say of a certain division of his class; the bold, dashing, adventurous, extravagant, swaggering set. He has travelled a great deal, knows a great deal, and talks a great deal. He possesses many qualities invaluable in a courier, and some which perhaps they would be better without. But he is a very useful fellow, and for training any one to follow his vocation I know no one better. Besides after all, he is bon diable, and may be trusted."

I did not immediately catch the idea that was passing through the mind of Monsieur Chassepot as he spoke, but on the following day he unfolded himself more explicitly.

It was on his return to our usual déjeuner à la fourchette which he always took at home after having mapped out the plan of the day's cuisine at the hotel, that he entered into more particulars.

"I thought last night," he said, "and I have been thinking again today, that if you have determined upon making a courier's life your metier, you could scarcely acquire the necessary experience more readily than by placing yourself under the care of Bobêche. I should have named him to you before if I had thought there was any likelihood of his coming to Orleans, but where to find him I knew not. His arrival last night struck me as most opportune, and I have already sounded him on the subject. He has promised to come here to breakfast and to bring with him his pretty sister Rose; that, I know, will be an attraction for you. Hark! I think I hear his step on the stair-case."

Monsieur Chassepot was right, and I had only time to utter a few hasty words in gratitude for his kindness, when a tap at the door announced the arrival of the visitors.

Under other circumstances it would have been my duty first to have spoken of Mademoiselle Rose, but the reader being already acquainted with her I pass at once to her brother.

Martin Caillou, or Bobêche, as he was almost universally called, was a man apparently designed by Nature for a life of toil and travel. He was of gigantic stature, and his strong sinewy limbs and breadth of shoulders denoted, not only enormous strength, but great powers of endurance. There was, however, nothing clumsy in the massive construction of his frame, all the parts of which were in admirable proportion with each other, and his elastic step indicated corresponding activity. Years might probably bring corpulence in their train, but that period was evidently remote, and at present he was in all the freshness and vigour of five-and-twenty. His features were regular, and, though somewhat scorched by travel, might be considered handsome, dark eyes and full of May.-VOL. LXXX. No. CCCXVII.

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intelligence like those of his sister, adding greatly to their expression. His hair was intensely black, and grew in short, crisp curls all over his head, and his whiskers, large and full, and forming a semi-circle under his chin, completed the beau-ideal of a courier's natural gifts. He would have been unworthy of his calling, and something very different from what his inclinations prompted, if he had not cultivated the appearance of the outward man. His principal garment was a dark green frock-coat, thickly embroidered in fantastic curves with broad black braid, and profusely decorated with frogs, long barrel buttons, and braided loop-holes ; the collar consisting of a sweeping roll of grey Angola wool, which seemed to curl and intermingle itself with his jetty whiskers, till they almost became one with it. The vest beneath this gorgeous upper garment, which was allowed to fly open and display its sable lining whenever the breeze caught it, was also dark green, and worked on the collar and at the pocket-holes in silver lace of a very graceful pattern,-and this style of ornament was apparent on the front of his tight-fitting pantaloons-still of the same hue, the contour of the lower limbs being defined by a narrow stripe of silver, until they met at the knee a pair of neatly made riding-boots, which were armed with heavy silver spurs of military fashion, being much curved, and garnished wth large rowels. A black belt, with a lion-headed silver clasp, sustained a short coûteau de chasse, with a handsome handle bent in the form of the beak of a bird of prey-and on his head he wore a small green casquette, the band round it, the button at the top, and the rim of the peak being like all the other ornaments of his costume, of silver. I need not say that this was his holiday dress which he wore, quite as much to please his sister as to gratify his own vanity by the sensation which he produced in rustic and remote localities, and even, if the truth must be told, in all places whither females are in the habit of resorting. In the course of my experience at Bourg la Reine, I had seen many gay fellows, chasseurs, couriers, and conducteurs of diligences, all of whom delight in fine plumage, but I had never yet seen anybody who so thoroughly impressed me as Bobêche, with the dignity and grandeur of his position. The very cravache which he flourished with the air of a prince, seemed in his hands the bâton of a marshal of France.

Nothing could exceed the gaiety of Monsieur Chassepot at the meeting, and the preparations for breakfast which he straightway made, showed that he was desirous of pleasing his guests, and relied, not rashly on his skill, for the accomplishment of his purpose.

If the reader has just dined, the bill of fare will be a bore to him; if he be at this moment clamorous for that repast, I fear he will sit down discontented, unless, indeed, he is on his way to the Café de Paris. I therefore, forbear the description of the breakfast, simply contenting myself by saying that Bobêche swore it was the best he had ever eaten; but whether he was in the habit of taking this oath with every new Amphitryon, or spoke from internal conviction, I will not take upon me to decide. Suffice it, that all did justice to Monsieur Chassepot's efforts, not even excepting himself, and all were as merry as he wished us to be. Mademoiselle Rose laughed and talked with the most perfect gaiety of heart, and Bobêche, though rather loud in his demonstrations, also made himself very entertaining. I was in a state of absolute delight. It was the first time I had enjoyed myself so much since the days when I used to run wild in the forest of Saint Germain. It was the first time, moreover, that I had been

brought into contact with what I conceived to be a real hero! I had listened with deep admiration to the wonderful break-neck adventures of Sans Pouces and Vapard, and had pondered over the wild legends of Bernard Landriot, and looked with a kind of awe on the rude Auvergnât as he told his dreary tales; my astonishment had been excited at the marvellous lore, as it seemed to me, of Denis Pingré, the little marguillier of Saint Jacques du Haut Pas; and I had envied the sharpness and ready wit of my friend Chicou; but until now it struck me that I had never yet seen a man whose activity of disposition, mental energy, and personal appearance qualified him for any undertaking that required boldness and address for its successful achievement.

He soon saw that I was struck by his appearance, and my admiration pleasing him, he talked to me very good-naturedly; said that he made no doubt I should one day be as clever as himself, and finally promised to see what he could do for me.

I learnt from his conversation that he was then travelling with the Marquis de Courtine, and an English gentleman, his friend, who were at present staying at Fontainebleau, from whence he had obtained a day or two's leave of absence, and had come over to Orleans to see his sister before he set out on a journey of some length, he believed into Germany, but the question was not yet settled. Who these gentlemen were, and how I became associated with their travels will appear hereafter.

OH! THE HEART IT IS A TREASURE.

BY J. E. CARPENTER, ESQ.

I.

OH! the heart it is a treasure
That should not be lightly won,
To be thrown aside at pleasure,
When the festive hour is done :

'Tis a jewel that, to cherish,

Should be still thy dearest boast;

For when all beside it perish,

Will its worth be known the most!

II.

If that heart for thee is beating,
Use it gently lest it break;
Warm and tender be thy greeting,
'Twill grow fonder for thy sake!
And in sickness or in sorrow,
Let thy care its solace be;

Then 'twill all its gladness borrow
From its sun of hope, in thee!

III.

Oh! the heart it is a blessing,
In its freshness and its youth
Be it thine, 'mid thy caressing,
To preserve it in its truth;
'Tis no worldly gem, at pleasure
To be worn or cast aside,
But a firm and priceless treasure,
And more valued when it's tried!

LIFE AND REMINISCENCES OF THOMAS CAMPBELL.

BY CYRUS REDDING.

CHAP. XI.

The Poet's Political Economy-Editorial Troubles-Mention of MooreSenor Manoel de Goristiza-Pun of the Poet-Irving, the Scotch Minister -Habits, when at Work-Error of Sir Walter Scott-Campbell's sudden Caprices-Restlessness of Disposition.

SAY was the great French authority on political economy at this period; he was answered by Mr. S. Gray. Shortly afterwards Campbell got a review of Mr. Place's "Illustrations and Proofs of the Principle of Population” written; in which subject, too, he was for a time absorbed, as it was closely allied with the more general one. He warmly contended for the theory of Malthus, notwithstanding that author begs his main point. Mr. Place, some said, had set Godwin at rest; thus his arguments were worthy of universal notoriety; and so the poet thought. Day after day, calling upon Campbell, political economy came first upon the tapis; then followed Place on Godwin. Light literature was forgotten; poetry reposed on his library shelves; the Hebrew lexicon lay unopened; his favourite Greek was neglected; and his attention, when required for the magazine, was difficult to extort. Godwin, Malthus, Booth, and Place, were the burdens of the conversation. Here, too, the premises, on which many of the arguments on all sides had been founded, were to a certain extent begged in the data. There were then no correct statements of the population in England, no registrar-general's returns; in America it was not much better. Recourse was, therefore, had to certain Swedish documents, in the same position as to correctness. It was no matter, the interest excited continued unchanged. The state of the population at the Norman conquest was referred to in arguing the question, and this would give rise to a discussion on the correctness of the statement upon which the whole argument reposed. Campbell, as was his custom, argued warmly on the side of the question he had espoused, and it could easily be seen that he had his predilections. It was extremely hard to keep him to the cold fact; often impossible. He would have had more papers than one on the subject every month, but from reminding him that this topic was confined to the knowledge of few persons, and that a magazine was intended for readers of every class.

The topic, which for a time was so warmly discussed, became in turn exhausted; but it was extremely difficult to get Campbell to keep in remembrance the particular aim of the work. It has been stated, that though all articles were to be directed to the publisher, Campbell's name was so well known, and besides, so many were inclined to tender their services, competent or not, that articles were now and then delivered at his residence. Occasionally, he would be asked by a friend whether such and such a thing would suit him, and, without considering, he would reply, "Oh, yes; send it by all means." The article not being suitable, he found himself in a dilemma about returning it.

One day he received a paper upon a subject, treated with exceeding dryness, which he had obtained in this manner. I observed to him that

it was too uninteresting for us. He replied, "I cannot help it now I have got it; I have promised its insertion." This article was entitled "The Republic of Plato," and appeared in the second year of his editorship. I took it home, and soon afterwards sent it to the printer. Campbell was so sensitive, and had spoken so strongly upon the article and its merits, that to raise further objections, after what he had said, would have offended him. This article appeared, or at least the first of a series of three. The result was a note from Mr. Colburn, to whom there were enough to be found ready to comment ill-naturedly, even when there was no ground for it; and besides, his own tact in such matters could not but have made him aware of the uninteresting, arid nature of the paper. I confessed the justice of the objection. I had done, in the way deavouring to set it aside, all I could. Campbell having promised, had I kept back the paper, a rupture would have been inevitable. I urged him to make only conditional promises in future: he admitted the good policy of thus acting, and sometimes remembered to do so when personally pressed. Once he called upon me, and left some verses he had received in this way, which he thought were original; instead of this, they were given him as a specimen, by an individual who wanted to get money for similar writings. He did not find this out until he got home again, when he sent me the following sentence in a characteristic note:

of en

"Send me back the printed thing about Anacreon, which I left just now-it is from an infernal begging parson."

Campbell, who was exceedingly good-natured, and reluctant to give a denial to his friends, was not accustomed to say "No:" he disliked it, and spoke too often without reflection. This pressing contributions personally is at least ill-mannered it was then too prevalent; and, in the present day, is far more a subject of annoyance than it was twenty years ago. It is in some respects, too, an insult, since it implies that the article is thus safely placed beyond the editor's imprimatur before examination.

papers

The number of papers offered for the publication was considerable. On one occasion I called, and found the poet with two or three articles before him, writing to those who had sent them to him. "It is a shame for me to give you these," he said; "they are sent to me by a man I know: I ought to read and send them back myself—you have enough to return." I took the note he had written, in order to seal up the while he was writing a letter. I found they did not belong to the party to whom the note had been written. The note itself will serve to show how long and painstaking the poet was in inditing that which, if extended beyond three or four lines, it would have occupied a clerk a week to write and attach to all the monthly trifles received for the publication, if each had been returned with so exact an epistle.

"One of the most unpleasant parts of my duty as an editor, is being sometimes obliged to return their contributions to literary men for whom I entertain a high general respect. It is with much sincerity that I have to thank you for your former pieces, as well as the offer of the present. As you have done me the honour of submitting them to me, you will also, possibly, excuse my frankness in saying that I do not think them

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