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red-faced animal, of youthful appearance, clad in a rusty green coat, his faded first-tail ;- -on his arm hangs a girl, with a simple face, and gaudy gown of some antediluvian pattern. These are species of the race of country cousins, whose first care on coming up to town" is to stare themselves satisfied in Regent Street ;-and, staring, on they go, -now running against one of these bedizened beings who condescends to pay heavily that she may enjoy the distinction of being a peripatetic show-bust to some Anglo-French milliner of warm imagination,-now tumbling over a draper's "assistant," who, with white neckcloth and frizzled hair, and pen behind his ear, had rushed from his shop-door to gaze on the retreating form of some aristocratic beauty, with whom he but lately enjoyed the delights of professional conversation, and whom, regarding with the eye of an amateur, he pronounces to be a "splendid creature!" Here is a hairy-faced fop, in "fashionable" second-hand garments, who struts, cane in hand, and cherished but weather-beaten four-and-nine-penny on his well-oiled head; and as, by peculiar corrugation of muscle, his eye-glass seems glued before his glassy eye, whose fire was long since "raked" out, he regards, with great self-satisfaction, the ladies he may chance to meet. Here,—a truce to observation,-here is Bob Pike himself!-his hands in his pockets, leaning against a pillar in the colonnade.

"Bob! my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Aw! mawstaw Bwitown! haw aw yaw?-Fitzroy, my son, haw aw yaw?"

Tom laughed and looked at me.

"Fitzroy," said he, "does your father speak Portuguese?" "Naw," said my father, "I dawn't knaw powdered-geese." "What language is it, father?" inquired Î.

"Ho tone," replied Bob Pike, Esq.

"Some mistake," said Tom.

"I ovaw-ward Lawd Lispel jawst naw-and he tawked saw ;-I thawt 'twas mawnars, and I cawpied it."

"Peculiarities of individuals form a rule of copy to no man of sense," replied Tom, dogmatically.

"Then 'taint krek!" cried my father delighted; "I'm glad of that— for its turrurrburl krakjaw.-Look !-quick!-look at the carridge!that belongs to Sir Timothy Smith, I know it by the arm-or-heel bare-'uns; and there isn't a carridge in London as I doesn't know,— 'cept one-and, as true as Bob,-there she goes! I must foller her-"

"But, father, we have something important"

"I'll find her out!" cried my father, and raced after the carriage of unknown ownership.

Soon, however, he returned, disappointed and out of breath; we heard his woes to an end, then planted a battery and gained our point. I satisfied his fatherly solicitude concerning my professional advancement in partnership with Mr. Briton, whose generosity in taking me, my father could not enough thank; and so we parted-till evening.

Let us hasten on towards the awful and important crisis that now impends.

Ten o'clock had arrived, and all was ready. I, in my robes and hair, with a face painted exquisitely majestic, and stones in my mouth, sat on the throne; before me a huge closed volume rested upon the table. Tom Briton, having performed the first part of his duty, and announced all to be in proper train, had assumed his diabolical garments, and was concealed behind my broad-backed chair, busily and characteristically engaged in the task of fumigating the room with brimstone." For," said he, "the smell of brimstone will pass with many for a diploma of supernatural power; and let the incredulous but see my head-your fame is then established."

Everything, then, being ready, I rang a hand-bell that was upon the table, and my father entered, made a Regent Street bow, looked confused, and was silent. I opened the huge book, rolled the stones in my mouth and proceeded to write, speaking aloud meanwhile :

"First patient, Bob Pike, Esq.," my father looked astonished,--" married," he smiled,-" formerly kept a potato warehouse in Rotherhithe,"-pulled up his shirt collar, arranged his curls and looked scornful," now a private gentleman and esquire,"-here he relaxed,"resident at Camberwell, No. 6, China Vase Parade, Montpelier Avenue;" at this extent of domestic knowledge my father was electrified ;- 66 green door, brass knocker, and an only son," he was galvanized;" Bob Pike, Esq., I know wherefore thou art here, but 'tis well thou thyself shouldst speak,-say on, therefore!"

My father wiped his lips, hemmed thrice, raised his left arm and commenced :

"Larned-no, knowing-sir,-doctor,-I co-co-comes,-I'm flustrated, I can't make a spitch, so the short and the long o' wot I comed for is, this here. My wife's two sisters is two old tabbies: wen my sun Fitzroy was born,-Fitzroy, sir, wot's in the emetical poorfashion, these disintegreeable vulgar critters wanted to crissen him outlandidge names of all sorts, and that wouldn't do, you know, at no price; and we had a rumpus about a dog, and the upshot is as we haven't spoken not never since. Now, for myself, I hates the critters, they is so werry wulgar, but for my famerly and for their money,why, you see, it's as well to be friends, and so if so be as you could give me some fizzic as could effec that 'ere objeck, why."

At this point my father was interrupted,—the door flew open and in rushed three ladies,-Mrs. Jones, my grandmother, pushed forward by Tabitha and Dorothea, my mother's incensed relatives. They had lately arrived to "consult the doctor" on business of their own, and had most unfortunately amused themselves (as my father spoke rather energetically, and they knew his voice,) with listening at the door, until rage was at its height, and they burst upon him :

:

"Vulgar and disagreeable, are we?" shrieked Dorothea. "Two old tabbies, are we?" cried Tabitha.

"You wants our money, do you?" sung both in chorus. "Won't you get it?" cried Dorothy.

"You scoundrel, you varmint, you inhuman, wicked, bloodthirsty bru-u-u-te!" bawled Tabitha.

"You pickling tub!" piped Dorothy.

The beauty of the last-mentioned allusion is certainly hidden, but

ladies incensed are not nice in the choice of terms, and a pickling tub is no light thing to throw at the head of a victim.

"Ugh! ugh!" cried Tabitha, making spiteful grimaces, quite close to my unfortunate father's nose.

Tom Briton, meanwhile, vexed at the untoward circumstance, forgot his disguise and rose behind my chair. My aunts were too busy to see him; but their deaf and bewildered mother, looking in amazement now at one party, now at the other, caught sight of the fearful apparition and shrieked aloud. I saw she would faint, and hastened to assist her, but my long robe caught in the chair; and Tom Briton, prompted by the same impulse, in his haste overturned the brimstone he had been using into the concealed fire, and, as a cloud of sulphury vapour, ascending, filled the room, rushed forward, in devil's character, and caught my falling grandam in his arms.

(To be continued.)

ADAM'S THANKSGIVING.
BY THE HON. D. G. OSBORNE.

FATHER! Thy world was fair and bright;
Glad were its birds, and sweet its flowers,
And beautiful Thy sun of light

Which shone o'er Eden's groves and bowers.
Creation's boundless store of bliss

Thy loving hand for me prepared;

Yet craved I something more than this,-
My lot, though happy, was unshared.

When on each morn and eve I knelt
To thank Thy love for what was given,
E'en 'midst my prayers my spirit felt
A longing as it rose to Heaven :-
Father! I thought one boon from Thee-

One precious boon-was still denied me:
I thought how sweet that prayer would be,
If there were one to kneel beside me!
Angels of Light, from yon blest skies,

Beings who hover near Thy throne,
Gazed on me with their radiant eyes,
And smiled; but yet I felt alone :—
Too
pure their holy natures seemed;
They owned a too celestial ray;-
Not such the mate of whom I dreamed-
I pined for one of kindred clay.

And I have found that mate at last,
To fill my bosom's vacant place:
Another's lot with mine is cast-
I see another of my race.
Oh Father! every charm doth wear,
In this Thy Eden's lovely sphere,
A glow more bright, a hue more fair,
Since she, the God-bestowed, is here.

A POLITICAL VIEW OF ITALY,

WITH ITS RELATIONS TO GREAT BRITAIN AND FRANCE.

BY GENERAL PÉPÉ.

INTRODUCTION

THE author of the following view is one of the most eminent among the members of the Italian emigration; one of those noble exiles, who, after having served the holy cause of their country with the sword, devote to it, in banishment, their studies, their pens, their thoughts, their whole lives; one of those men of upright heart and mind, who give to this age of infamous apostacy, or cowardly and fallacious neutrality, an example of fidelity, of firmness and political probity, so rare in these times, as to be heroic-I had almost said fabulous. Honourable scruples obliging the author to conceal his name, he had addressed himself to me, who wear his country in my heart's core, to be the introducer, and, as it were, the Godfather of his work. I had accepted this mission the more readily, as it gave me an opportunity of paying to the author and his country this public and sincere homage of esteem and sympathy. Those scruples no longer existing, the veil, however, is now withdrawn.

Italy is the land of my youth; she is dear to me on many accounts; and nothing which regards her, is indifferent to me. Perhaps I, more than almost any one, have been in a position to appreciate her sufferings, her efforts, her resources; and I participate in the indignation and the hopes of those who prepare, or dream of, her deliverance. In no part of the world is the violation of the rights of man more flagrant or more atrocious; and the excess of evil justifies every sort of remedy.

In delivering his thoughts to the public, the author felt great anxiety on one account: he feared lest the moment should be unfavourable; that competent minds, engrossed by the great question which now agitates the East, would refuse an audience to the advocate of Italian independence. I have combated these apprehensions, and endeavoured to overcome his doubts. There are some rights so sacred, that the vindication of them is never out of season; every moment is suitable; and though in politics there is no prescription, and time has not the force of law, it is expedient to harass the impious reign of usurpation, by incessant eternal protests.

But independently of this peremptory consideration, the particular fact, which now turns every eye towards the East, possesses this powerful interest, only because it closely bears upon the interests of the West sooner or later, Italy is destined, if not to take her ancient lead, at least to play a great and honourable part on the grand theatre of the West.

This is not the place to discuss the Oriental question: let me, however, be permitted to make some rapid observations on its connection with the future destiny of Italy.

When the Ottoman race, at the apogée of its power, got possession of Constantinople, Italy, then in the decline of its political existence, received the first counterblow of this great event. This, however,

turned out fortunately; (for all human catastrophes have their compensation;) while the terror of the crescent extended over the Christian world, it received from the Byzantine emigration, as an indemnity, the treasure (till then, half veiled,) of Greek letters.

Italy first received them with hospitality; from thence they departed for the conquest of France, of all Europe: to destroy the decayed mould, in which the scholastic papal feudality had petrified the Catholic world.

In these days, the parts are changed; the West has turned towards the East, and sends back in maturity the civilization it received from thence in its germ. Algeria, Egypt, Greece, the Sclavonian populations of the Ottoman empire, are already impregnated with the spirit of the West; even the capital of Islamism, irresistibly drawn by the Christian whirlpool, would long since have fallen into it, and been swallowed up, but for the intestine jealousies of the European family. Whether the Ottoman empire can live, is no longer a question; it is already dead but its sepulture is adjourned, in order to delay the adjudication of a succession so warmly disputed. The dispute is between the heirs, who are disputing round the corpse.

The course of ages, and the successive encroachments of despotism, have modified all the relations between people and people; so that what was formerly in the shade, is now in the light, and what once was light, is now become darkness:-thus Italy, which, at the taking of Constantinople, played so grand and intellectual a part, is now reduced to be a silent and motionless spectator; it has no voice in the chapter, notwithstanding the authority of historic traditions, the interest of vicinity, or the right, which each member of the great European body has to be consulted on their common affairs.

How, then, can Italy, thus erased from the rank of sovereign nations, be again connected with the Oriental question? Let us hasten to explain, that, from the commencement, this great problem has been ill propounded by France; and that they are preparing for us the most cruel humiliations, by obstinately continuing to treat as a special and maritime question, one which is general and continental. It is not in the Dardanelles that France can solve this important problem. It is on the Alps, and the Rhine.

Whatever particular views we may have on Russia, whatever sympathy or antipathy she may inspire,-it is impossible not to recognize in her, one of the principal elements of the future constitution of the social world.

Doubtless, a great destiny is in store for her; and without pretending to the tripod of the Sibyls, one may now foresee that her influence will be exercised in the East. Russia is a bridge between Europe and Asia; now, as Europe has nothing more to expect or receive from Asia, and Asia, on the contrary, has every thing to receive from Europe; Russia, as well by her intermediate position between the two worlds, as by the nature of her genius, may be regarded as the organ and director of modern civilization in the East. This is her part, whether she wills it or not,-it is imposed upon her by a superior power; sooner or later, her mission must be accomplished.

This position granted, it assures to Russia, in spite of every thing, a