Nature with novelty does still abound,
On every side fresh follies may be found.
But then the taste of every guest to hit,
To please at once the gallery, box, and pit,
Requires at least- -no common share of wit.
Those who adorn the higher sphere of life
Demand the lively rake, or modish wife,
Whilst they who in a lower circle move
Yawn at their wit, and slumber at their love.
If light, how mirth employs the comic scene,
Such mirth as drives from vulgar minds the spleen;
The polished critic damns the wretched stuff,
And cries: "Twill please the galleries well enough."
Such jarring judgment who can reconcile,

Since fops will frown where humble traders smile.

To dash the poet's ineffectual claim

And quench his thirst for universal fame,

The Grecian fabulist, in moral lay,

Did thus address the writers of his day.

Once on a time, a son and sire, we're told,
The stripling tender, and the father old,
Purchased a jack-ass at a country fair,

To ease their limbs, and hawk about their ware:

But as the sluggish animal was weak,

They feared, if both should mount, his back would break:

Up gets the boy-the father leads the ass,

And through the gazing crowd attempts to pass.

Forth from the throng the grey beards hobble out,

And hail the cavalcade with feeble shout:

"This the respect to reverend age you show?
And this the duty you to parents owe?
He beats the hoof: and you are set astride
Sirrah! get down, and let your father ride."
As Grecian lads were seldom void of grace,
The decent, duteous youth resigned his place:
Then a fresh murmur through the rabble ran-
Boys, girls, wives, widows, all attack the man.
"Sure never was brute beast so void of nature!
Have you no pity for the pretty creature?
To your own offspring can you be unkind?
Here-Suke, Bill, Betty-put the child behind."
Old Dapple next the clown's compassion claimed:
""Tis wonderment them boobies ben't ashamed.
Two at a time upon a poor dumb beast!
They might as well have carried he at least."
The pair, still pliant to the public voice,
Dismount, and bear the ass-then what a noise!
Huzzas, loud laughs, low gibe, and bitter joke,
From the yet silent sire these words provoke :
"Proceed, my boy, nor heed their further bawl,
Vain his attempt who strives to please them all."

GODOLPH, THE SHELL GATHERER.

A Tale of the Netherlands.

It is well known that the finest collection of shells in the world is in the city of Liège, where it has been the admiration of travellers for the last hundred years. It was at one time in the archbishop's palace, but is now deposited in a public hall.

To look upon a collection of shells will excite very different sensations in different minds. The conchologist will see in it a system, and will esteem the different specimens, not according to their beauty but their rarity. The mere lounger will gaze upon it as upon any thing else placed to attract the eye; while he who sees, in all the works of nature, the hand of a Divine Architect, will recognise, in the beauty and order set before him, another proof of that perfection, which, in stretching out the heavens, remembered also to paint the lily of the field. But there is still another class of reflections, to which this contemplation may give rise. When I saw, for the first time, this magnificent collection of shells, a multitude of strange imaginings came over me. I thought of the vast labour which must have been employed in searching for the thousands of individual specimens which formed it, and of the distant shores from whence they had been brought. Each individual shell had lain for centuries in the waters of the great deep, till thrown at length, by the constant motion of the waves upon the margin, where they had lain for, perhaps, centuries longer. I felt a desire to know something of the history of this collection, and put some questions upon the subject to the person who attended. "The immense collection," replied he, "which you see before you, and which consists of 137,000 specimens, is the fruit of one man's labour. About one hundred years agone, the Sieur Godolph, who had spent many years in the pursuit, sold the whole of this collection for 150,000 ducats: and his great grandson, who resides in this city, possesses a collection not much inferior to this, formerly the property also of the Sieur Godolph."

After hearing this statement, I left the collection and returned home; but, for several days, I could think of nothing but the Sieur Godolph. I constantly figured him wandering upon the sea shore, in distant climes, and stooping for shells: and I thought I would give a year's revenue of my estates to know the history of the Sieur Godolph's peregrinations.

One evening, a little more than a week after I had seen the collection, and when my curiosity was beginning in some degree to subside, I went out to walk on that fine quay, which extends along the river side from the bridge at Liège for nearly a mile, lined with trees all the way, and then ending in the beautiful boulevard which stretches a mile further. I was keeping my eyes upon the houses as I walked along, intending to change the dull neighbourhood of the archbishop's palace for the bustle

of the quay, if I should be fortunate enough to find lodgings. While thus occupied, the name "Godolph," printed upon a large bill, attracted my eyes, and I instantly stopped to read: the words of the announcement I do not recollect, nor is it material; but it was to the purport, that the great grandson of the Sieur Godolph was about to dispose, by public auction, of the valuable collection of shells which belonged to his great grandfather, and that the sale would take place the next morning. This incident revived all my curiosity about the Sieur Godolph, and I did not fail to be punctual to the hour next day,-after having wandered in my sleep with the Sieur Godolph among unknown and distant strands, ever and anon, the shells crumbling to pieces as we lifted them up.

Fancy, when indulged, invests with interest, whatever may happen to be the object of it; and I found, on entering the house of the grandson of Godolph, that I was in some degree satisfying my longings. In the room I was shown into, there were already a few individuals, attracted by the sale. On every side cases of shells were exhibited, and the walls of the room were almost entirely covered with worn-out sketches of foreignlooking landscapes, marine views, strange animals, birds and fishes, and savages in fanciful costume. Every thing around bespoke the residence of a wanderer over the earth.

I had no intention of becoming a purchaser to any extent. I only bought one or two specimens. When the sale was over, the auctioneer said he was instructed to sell one other relic of the Sieur Godolph, if he found a purchaser who would give the price put upon it; if not, it should be sent to the city library. This relic was a manuscript, in which were detailed his wanderings, and particularly the manner in which he became possessed of this vast and unrivalled collection of shells, which had enriched himself as well as the city of Liège. I instantly determined to become the purchaser, be the price what it might. No bidder appeared but myself; and I, accordingly, became the owner of the manuscript for a hundred ducats. It would be difficult for me to describe the pleasurable sensations which I experienced on finding myself on the eve of having my curiosity gratified. I instantly stuffed the manuscript into my pocket, and hurried home; and having unrolled my treasure, read—

THE PEREGRINATIONS

OF

THE SIEUR GODOLPHI,

THE SHELL GATHERER.

I am now an old man, verging on seventy; and for the last thirty years I have enjoyed all that my heart could desire-thanks to the perseverance of my earlier days-and thanks, also, to fortune. Here I sit in my arm chair, musing over the incidents of my past life-and an eventful life it has been. "Frederick! you young rogue, take my pen,

and write as I dictate to you: you have often asked me where I collected all those shells-you shall now hear-my old hand I find is rather too unsteady to write."

I was the youngest son of the Count Joffroi, and had two elder brothers. He lived in that old chateau which stands upon the banks of the Meuse, near to Huy. Our table was every day graced with the game and the fish which the count my father, and my eldest brother, killed, and with the vegetables that grew in the hanging garden. The revenue of my father only sufficed to pay taxes, and the feed of his horse, and the wages of old Joseph, and the cost of powder and shot. My two eldest brothers entered into foreign service, and were killed in the wars and when I had reached my twenty-fourth year, the count my father died, leaving me heir to his possessions, and burthened with his debts. I felt no inclination to vegetate as he had done; but determined to turn what I had into money, and go and seek my fortune. When my father's debts were paid, and the price of all that I had sold was collected, I counted one hundred and twenty louis d'ors into my purse-tied a string round it, shook hands with old Joseph, and with all my fortune in my pocket, saving my father's diamond ring, which I had upon my finger, I closed the little gate of the hanging garden behind me, and, turning the corner of the rock upon which the chateau was built, lost sight of the house of my fathers. It was a fine buoyant sensation, that which I experienced in thinking that the world was all before me. I had never before been ten leagues from home. I had a hundred and twenty pieces of gold in my purse, and I felt as if the world, and all its wealth, and all it could yield of pleasure, were at my disposal.

Nothing occurred to disturb those feelings during several weeks, at the end of which time I found myself in Vienna, with my purse somewhat lighter, and not any nearer to Fortune than when I set out in quest of her. Vienna was no place for an inexperienced youth, with a purse full of gold, and panting after the enjoyments in which life, at that season of years, is supposed to be prolific. During the forenoon and evening I seldom left myself much leisure for thought; but in the morning, reflections, gloomy enough, would break in upon me; and I used then to revolve, with much seriousness, upon my prospects; and my mind was unable to suggest any thing that might reasonably light up the future.

One evening, when I had returned to my lodgings earlier than usual, I began to reason with myself thus: "I have been here, in Vienna, no less than four months, and have never taken one step towards providing against the future: what am I to do when my purse is empty?" and, with some anxiety, I drew it from my pocket, and emptied its contents upon the table: the table was immediately strewed with copper instead of gold. At first I doubted the evidence of my senses. I rubbed my eyes, and then handled the pieces; sure enough they were copper-all

copper. The last time I had used my purse was the night before, when, at a coffee house in the Place San Joseph, I drank a bottle of Rhenish with a stranger. I recollected that I fell fast asleep, with my purse on the table, and my hand loosely over it-that when I awoke it was latethe stranger was gone-and my heavy purse still under my hand.

I remained for some time in a stupor: I expected, indeed, to have found my purse lighter-but to find myself pennyless! I started up and rushed out of the house, to go to the café where I had last been. It was now about three in the morning-it was in the beginning of July, and the dawn had begun. I went at a quick pace towards the Place San Joseph; and just in entering the square, a man, muffled up, but of whom I distinguished enough to convince me it was the stranger I suspected, hurried past me. I stopped and spoke he instantly paused and turned round. "Young man," said he, "you seem flurried." "I may well be so," I replied; and I hastily related to him the circumstances under which he had met me. "Whom, then, do you suspect?" said he, fixing upon me a penetrating look. The manner of the stranger increased my suspicions of him; now, I thought, was my opportunity; and it was probable, if not certain, that if I should lose sight of him now, it would be for ever. "I suspect you," I replied, and attempted to seize him by the collar. Quick as lightning, he drew a short poniard from under his cloak, and would have buried it in my bosom, had I not raised my arm in time to receive the blow upon it, where it inflicted a slight wound. I was a powerful young man, fully my adversary's equal: and after a desperate struggle, in which I felt that I was struggling for life, I wrested the weapon from him-we both fell at the same instant; and the poniard, which I held in my hand, entered the stranger's side, and was buried in it to the hilt.

:

"Young man," said he, feebly, "your suspicions were just I took your gold, and I would have taken your life had I been able; but it has happened otherwise. You will find your own in my purse, which is fixed to a girdle under my cloak: there is more in it than yours, but"-he spoke no more, a convulsive shudder passed over him, and life was extinct. The cloak had been torn in the struggle, and the purse was exposed to my eyes. I instantly tore it off.

:

No sooner did I find myself in possession of the purse, and standing beside the dead body of the stranger, than the peril of my situation came with its full force to my mind. No one in Vienna knew me here was a man murdered, the bloody poniard (which he had himself drawn from his side) lying on the ground, and myself standing by, with a purse of gold in my hand: circumstances seemed so strong against me, that it was madness to remain a moment, for the morning had so broke, that the whole affair might have been seen; and yet, to fly, would be to proclaim myself the criminal. In either case I felt that crime would fix itself upon