| of pamphlets which usually went pretty straight to the butter-shop, and said, "I saw something very good in your new pamphlet this morning." "Ah!" exclaimed the delighted pamphleteer, "what was it?" "A pound of butter," was the excruciating reply. is believed, some plums, to some gypsy woman accused. He had on his counter a book, the Life of Pamela, which he was tearing for waste paper, &c., &c. In the cheese was found, &c., and a leaf of Pamela wrapt round the bacon." What, asks Byron, would Richardson, the vainest and luckiest of authors, have said, could he have traced his pages from their place on the French prince's toilet, to the grocer's counter and the gypsy murderess's bacon? "What would he have said? what can anybody say, save what Solomon said long before us? After all, it is but passing from one counter to another, from the bookseller's to the other tradesman's, grocer or pastry-cook. For my part, I have met with most poetry upon trunks; so that I am apt to consider the trunkmaker as the sexton of author-assurance that it is not merely "such exquisite auship." To pastry, however, in another place, if not in another mood, the cynical bard pretends to owe his acquaintance with "Wordsworth, the grand metaquizzical poet, There are some speculations of Washington Irving's on what may be the fate of our current literature, or such of it as was current once upon a time, when George the Fourth was king, and Geoffrey Crayon a Gent., - if retrieved piecemeal, by future antiquaries, from among the rubbish of ages; when, for instance, the festive and amatory songs of Moore may become matters of laborious research and painful collation. Let whoso can, find comfort in the thors as Moore" that are doomed to consume the oil of future antiquaries. "Many a poor scribbler, who is now, apparently, sent to oblivion by pastry-cooks and cheese-mongers, will then rise again in frag ments, and flourish in learned immortality."* LA SONNAMBULA. A man of vast merit, though few people know it; The perusal of whom (as I told you at Mestri) I owe, in great part, to my passion for pastry." Nor does Byron shirk the prospect of himself THE Country between St. Nazaire and Vannes is contributing to the trade demands of the trunk-neither beautiful nor interesting. Sombre forests of maker:fir, stretching over mile after mile of undulating "And though these lines should only line portmanteaus, plain, and seldom varied by the appearance of a Trade will be all the better for these Cantos." peasant's cottage or the mansion of a Breton noble, There is some consolation, perhaps, in the pros-gree that the wearied traveller is fain to turn his oppress the eye and fatigue the mind to such a depect of curl-paper uses, to a poet of sensibility: attention to the inside of the carriage, should he be Mat Prior, in his verses addressed to a little miss of unlucky enough to journey by the jog-trot railway five years old, he being then forty, has a stanza that runs through this desert. There is not even excitement at the stations, in fact, excitement of any sort is discouraged by the paternal government of France. It is unhealthy, it disturbs the mental equilibrium of the people; wherefore the utmost regularity of thought and action is produced by a which tells how she makes her silkworms beds Whereunto a parallel passage in effect occurs in the discreet system of national education, which is just lyrics of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes: as visible at railway stations as elsewhere. You are not allowed, for instance, to walk up and down the platform; the impatience and suspense might produce agitation: you are therefore cooped up in an apartment according to the class whereby you travel; the train is placed so that its first-class, secondclass, and third-class carriages are directly opposite these respective apartments, and at a given moment the doors are opened and you are propelled into your proper place in the train, under the superintendence of several sergents-de-ville. So that in travelling through the country there is not even variety met with at these halting-places. You glide into the empty station, suddenly the doors are thrown open, in scramble a few Breton peasants, and away you go again, through the interminable forests of fir. For fellow-travellers I had a lady and gentleman of uncertain age: the latter might be about thirtyfive; the former was good-looking, which ought to obviate all speculations as to years. They were not married, for he seemed particularly courteous and attentive to her; they were not brother and sister, for they were utterly unlike each other. I concluded them to be simply friends, or perhaps prospective husband and wife. The gentleman was somewhat reserved; answered her inquiries kindly, but curtly; and seemed more amused than interested by her remarks. But how shall I describe the admirable manner, the ever-varying beauty, the bril * Bracebridge Hall: A Literary Antiquary. liant, witty, bashful, and simple conversation of his younger friend? The artless grace of every movement was pretty and perplexing as the motions of a squirrel; she was constantly changing in her look, in her mood, even in the attitudes she formed; while in her casual observations there were such subtle drolleries, such unconscious shrewdness and humor, that the longer you listened the more you were charmed. She dropped her glove. I picked it up; and this little circumstance made us friends. From a few words of thanks, she proceeded to remark upon the weather, then upon the country, upon the Breton populace, upon the French, upon the English, and their barbarous customs. She was indescribably engaging; she laughed and chatted, grew serious, and abruptly darted again into comedy; teased her companion for his austerity and reticent smiles; and gave herself such pretty airs and graces, that one could have fancied her a child of thirteen. She asked me if I had seen "Le Drac" when in Paris; if I, had read the last new novel burlesquing the English; then hummed an air from the last page of the Journal du Dimanche, a very un-Sunday-like magazine which she held in her hand. "The poor lover, Monsieur, returns with the jewels, and Michelinette runs off to the mirror, without even thanking him. She is so engaged in judging of their effect that she seems to forget even his presence, and in his eye there burns a tear, - alas ! Monsieur, he weeps! 'Mais elle a vu son chagrin, N'est pas coquette, Ne plains pas ton destin.' So it is all over, and they are happy. You English have no such little quarrels, such pleasant reconciliations; you are always the same, -cold, formal, methodical. I think if I married an Englishman I should tease him to death." "And who would not desire such a fascinating method of quitting life?" "Ah, Monsieur, you flatter me! But what I reverence in these English is their power, their grandeur, their great wealth. They are all rich,all very rich, are they not?" who might be richer, with no great detriment to themselves. "Why, you carry fortunes on your fingers, in your watch-pockets, in your purses. Will Monsieur think me rude if I ask to see his ring?" At once the trinket was in her possession, and with quite an infantine curiosity did she examine it. She then passed it to her companion, whose attention had already been fixed upon it while it was yet on my finger. "You will think us monsters of rudeness, Monsieur," said he; "but English workmanship is quite a novelty to us. The quaint figuring around the stone, for example, is purely northern. I presume Monsieur has also an English watch? 99 "Of the eighteenth century," said I; "an heirloom in our family.” "What a treasure!” he replied, with more vivacity than he had hitherto revealed. "Would Monsieur have the goodness-?" They were no less delighted with the watch, and insisted on my opening it to show its internal construction and the jewels which it contained. The back of the watch was also admired, with its quaint carving, and likewise its precious stones, which were more readily visible than those inside. The gentleman leant back in his seat, as though somewhat ashamed of having exhibited this curiosity, while the young lady remained as lively as ever, and continued her conversation during the rest of the jour ney. Towards evening we entered the town of Vannes, the capital of the department of Morbihan. I pitched my travelling-case into the first omnibus that presented itself, which happened to be that belonging to the "Hôtel du Dauphin"; and I observed that my lady friend was also about to enter the same vehicle, when her companion made a slight gesture of dissent. "Which hotel?" he inquired of the conductor. 'Hôtel du Dauphin,' Monsieur." 666 He remained a moment in doubt. "There is the 'Hôtel de la Croix Verte,'" he remarked to his companion," and the Hôtel de France." "Le voici-par ici, Monsieur ?" cried another conductor, with an expressive motion of the hand, and courteous inclination of the body. The lady terminated the little debate by a slight shrug of her shoulders at her companion's hesitation; then, giving the conductor her small quantity of luggage, stepped into the omnibus, and we all three drove off to the Hôtel du Dauphin. Having taken apartments, and ascertained that the table-d'hôte was fixed for half past five, we took advantage of the intervening hour to ramble through the quaint old streets of the town, and admire its extraordinary domestic architecture. All this time I had been unable to discover the names of my companions; she only called him Louis; he addressed her sometimes as Denise, oftener as Mademoiselle. As our acquaintance had begun without the usual English preliminaries of formal introduction or card-presenting, they were no wiser as regarded myself; nevertheless, we were soon on the most amicable terms, and our walk through the town was rendered doubly agreeable by the casual observations with which we greeted every fresh object of interest. Despite the charming simplicity with which the And of these there were plenty. The uneven, question was asked, I was obliged, in reply, to sug-narrow, straggling streets were full of an old-fashgest that in England I knew of one or two people | ioned, picturesque beauty. The projecting second March 24, 1806.] stories of the houses, adorned with grotesque wooden carving and full-length figures of saints, the open casements of green glass crossed into diamond panes, the ancient walls of the town, the grass-covered fosse of the Tour du Connétable, the venerable and stately proportions of the cathedral, altogether presented an admirable picture of a feudal town of the Middle Ages, and only required the introduction of a few long-haired, sallow-featured, and strangely-dressed peasants, to add to it a thorough Breton character. Mademoiselle Denise was enraptured with these quaint characteristics of a former age. She seemed to have little acquaintance with the manners or appearance of the Bretons; every fresh object was matter for fresh wonder, and our walk was indescribably delightful. Gradually I perceived the distance between the door and the wall increase; and judge of my astonishment when I distinctly observed a white figure appear,- the figure of a woman that slowly entered without seeming even to look at me. I need not pretend to say I was not frightened; the lonely hour, the stillness of the house, the moonlight falling through the window, combined to make this vision a horror which chilled the blood in my veins, and made my heart beat audibly. But now, thoroughly awakened by the apparition, I shook aside the vague impressions produced on the mind when in a state of unconscious slumber; and as I sought with a severe scrutiny to fix my eyes upon the face of this woman, I recognized, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the features of Mademoiselle Denise. She was no less agreeable when we returned to Judge of my astonishment when I made the disdine. She was the only lady present at the table-covery! And there could be no mistake about it. d'hôte but she conversed freely, even when the sub- As she turned her face to the moonlight, the clear ject of our talk became general. In fact, at one definition of her outline was sufficient proof, had point, she led the conversation to that which had proof been required. There were the same finelybegun our acquaintance, the subject of watches, cut lips, the straight nose, the high but narrow foreand, in her laughing way, said that if the gentle-head, even the dark gray eyes, which had grown famen who were present would produce their watches, there would no two of them be found precisely to agree. "And a gentleman always prides himself upon the correctness of his watch," she added, with a playful irony. "Ah, Mademoiselle," said one gentleman, "you compel me to contradict you. My friend's watch is precisely the same as my own." Her companion laughed; but she insisted that she was right, and refused to believe it, until the gentleman politely handed her both watches. "There is one second of difference, Monsieur; I swear it!" she cried, with the greatest glee," and I am right, after all.” "You are rude, Denise," said her friend; "let me return these gentlemen their watches." - "He spoils me, Monsieur," she said to me, "and then reproaches me. Is he not cruel, then, a savage? Behold, therefore, how he glares!" The glaring savage was at that moment engaged in drying his moustache after having taken a draught of vin rouge, and neither in action nor in manner did he seem very terrible. After dinner, having some letters to write to England, I bade my new friends good night, and went up to my own room,- not, however, until Mademoiselle Denise had been most particular in arranging for the following day an excursion to the Castle of Succinio and to Sarzean, the birthplace of the author of "Gil Blas." Considerably before midnight I was fast asleep beneath the soft, thick coverlet and large cushion which form the upper clothing of a Breton bed. It could have been but a short time thereafter that I was awakened by a slight noise, -so very slight, in fact, that it still remains a mystery to me how I should have heard it. When I opened my eyes I found the room pervaded by bright moonlight, which was streaming in through the casement, and drawing shadows of the bars on the carpet. I was about to close my eyes again, and address myself to sleep, when my attention was arrested by the evident movement of the door, which stood on the right of the bed. It was certainly no miracle that it should open, for I never bolt bedroom doors or shutters even when travelling, but that it should be opened at that time of night was certainly surprising. miliar to me during our acquaintanceship of the previous dozen hours. She was dressed in white, as I said; but this loose outer garment seemed only to cover clothes of a darker hue, in fact, I should have thought her dressed as usual, with the addition of this loose white robe. Her feet, as was evident when she walked, were bare, and her long fair hair hung down behind, until it almost reached her waist. Perhaps it was the striking resemblance she bore to the heroine of "La Sonnambula" that first suggested to me a solution of this seemingly inexplicable mystery; and as I further watched her movements, I was convinced of the correctness of my supposition. She was either an habitual somnambulist, or had been attacked by a sudden fit of sleepwalking. The more I became assured of this fact the greater became my desire to avert the awkwardness and unpleasantness of her being discovered in such a painful situation; but casting over the chances of the matter in my mind, I came to the resolution of allowing her to do as she pleased, judging that she would in a few minutes return to her own room, and the whole affair remain unknown to every one but myself. So far as I could observe, her eyes were open; and on her first entrance into the room, she had fixed them upon me with a cold, glassy stare, utterly devoid of recognition or intelligence. In the pale, dim moonlight, this mechanical fixture of the eyes was exceedingly unpleasant; but I strove to look upon it simply as the result of a physical ailment. Slowly, noiselessly, she then stepped past the edge of my bed, and approached the small dressing-table which stood at the window. Her back was thus turned towards me; and it was only at intervals that I could observe her motions. She seemed to be examining the various articles which were scattered about the table, or hanging from the toilette mirror, and presently I heard her repeat, in a low, clear voice, these lines from the prayer-book, which the good landlord had left in the room:— "Qui dit au soleil sur la terre, D'éclairer tout homme et tout lieu? "Le bluet et le ciel superbe. Qui les a teints d'un même bleu? "Qui donne au bosquet son ombrage? what alarmed, but a moment's reflection showed me how unjust my first thought had been. Moved by some incomprehensible whim, the unconscious somnambulist had carried with her these trinkets, as a child lifts whatever gay bauble presents itself to its fingers; and I felt assured that when Mademoiselle Denise awoke in the morning and found herself possessed of such strange treasures, her surprise would only be equalled by her desire to restore them to the rightful owner. Probably, I thought, she is an habitual sleep-walker; and, knowing her infirmity, will perceive at once how the jewelry came into her possession, upon which she will, of course, make instant inquiry to insure its restoration. Even in this strange circumstance there was revealed one of the principles which are supposed to govern these fits of aberration. Somnambulists generally are interested in dreamy excursions by those things which interest them in daytime; and She replaced the book on the table, and continued her investigations among the other articles lying about. She took a long blue scarf, which I had hung over the mirror, and bending it round her head in the form of a turban, stood to contemplate in the glass the picture she represented. Anything more singular than this spectacle could not be conceived. The moonlight lent a pallor to her face, which otherwise her healthy complexion would scarcely have presented; and this ghastly whiteness, coupled with the long white garment she wore, looked almost hideous as contrasted with the bold blue crown which she had assumed. Preparatory, however, to placing the turban on her head, I observed her withdraw from its folds a cameo pin, which I had negligently left therein, and, as I sup-reflecting on the peculiar interest which Mademoiposed, place it on the table. Still retaining the novel head-dress she had so ingeniously constructed, she seemed to take an inventory of my jewelry, which was likewise placed in front of the mirror. My watch, which hung from one of the mahogany knobs at the side of the glass, she detached, and held to her ear, with the manner of a child. "Chick! chick!" I heard her murmur; “mon Dieu, quelle vitesse!" selle Denise had taken in my watch when it was first shown to her, I could not wonder that she should make it the subject of her regard when a peculiar fatality had drawn her towards my room. I returned to bed and slept soundly through the night. Next morning I rose at eight, dressed, went down stairs and had the customary bowl of café au lait served in the breakfast-room; but though I waited and read the newspaper for a considerable time, I recognized in this exclamation the same artless-neither Mademoiselle nor her companion came into ness which had characterized her conversation dur- the room. ing the day, and was reminded of the school-boy who boasted to his playmate that "he had got such a splendid watch! such a magnificent watch! he would wager it would go faster than any watch, clock, or timepiece in the town!" Mademoiselle Denise seemed in no hurry to depart, and my suspense was momentarily becoming greater. What the consequences might be of her suddenly awaking from this physical stupor I dared not imagine. I had heard of cases in which the somnambulist had been recalled to consciousness only to fall dead on the spot. And there were many reasons why this strange affair should not be known; to the lady herself the mortification consequent upon her being told of it would, I knew, be inexpressible. I rang the bell, and inquired of the waiter at what hour they breakfasted. "The table-d'hôte, monsieur?" "At eleven o'clock, monsieur." Feeling sure of meeting my two friends at breakfast, I resolved to spend the intervening time in exploring those portions of the town which I had not visited. The morning was very beautiful for the time of year (October), and though the cropped and regular rows of limetrees in the central square had scarcely a leaf upon them, their more fortunate neighbors on the banks of the canal-like inlet which leads down to the Gulf of Morbihan were green and In a few minutes, however, I was greatly relieved pleasant in the early sunshine. This was a portion by observing her unwind from her head my scarf, of the place I had not previously seen; and the old which she hung over the mirror in the same position gateway of the massive wall, the clustering barges, she had found it. She seemed to bestow a little the groups of women selling vegetables, and sailors attention in arranging the objects on the table, lounging about the quays, were eminently pictuprobably prompted by that dim consciousness which resque. Over the gateway, in a recess, is placed a haunts us sometimes even in dreams. She appeared large wooden saint, brightly painted, whose glaring to be desirous of leaving everything in the order - white eyeballs and strongly marked eyelashes proor in the disorder in which it had been on her duced a strange feeling of mingled amusement and entrance; and after having done this satisfactorily, horror. The artist who produced this work was she turned and walked to the door. As she passed perhaps influenced by the thought that those people I saw that her dull, glassy eyes were again fixed who were not drawn to the saint by love would be upon my face, yet still with the same vacant, ex-moved by terror; although the rest of the holy pressionless stare. She opened the door, disap- man's countenance was exceedingly insipid and peared with noiseless steps, and I was left to my commonplace. own reflections. At the appointed hour I returned to the hotel, I can scarcely tell what had prompted me to get and walked into the long apartment where I exup; but no sooner had she gone than I stepped out pected to find the residents in the house sitting of bed, and went to the table which had so inter- down to breakfast. But in place of the calm proested Mademoiselle Denise. Here I made a dis-priety and graceful decorum of such a ceremony, I covery which first startled me, and then amused me. found the wildest commotion and confusion. There My watch had disappeared, likewise my chain, were a dozen people in the room, all talking at cameo pin, sleeve-links, and a ring set with pearls once; while loudest of all rose the voice of the landand diamonds, the gift of my mother. I was some- | lord, who seemed beside himself with despair. No Every Saturday, my PERIODIC PHENOMENA. ny entrance than he sprang | nevertheless he at once prepared to rush off to the sooner did he observe rather than came, and in an eager voice, which | Préfet, and this occupation relieved his mind. For breakfast, judging that I should hear but little furseemed paralyzed by reason of its very eagerness, myself, I resigned myself to fate and a French ther of Mademoiselle Denise or her friend Louis. he exclaimed, My judgment was correct; in spite of the utmost charming creature who thus suffered from a painful habit which was even more awkward to others than to herself. 66 Ah, monsieur !" 66 Well, what is the matter?" said I. "Ah, monsieur!" he again cried, overcome by official vigilance, nothing more was heard of the his emotion. 66 What is it? What has happened?" I am "I am ruined, monsieur; I am lost! thrown down, I am trampled upon, I am debased!” I suggested to M. Dutoit that his explanation, so far from being explicit, was the reverse; and that I should have to apply to some of the other gentlemen for an explanation. 66 voici le Mais non, monsieur, c'est moi, moi, malheureux sujet qui parle !" But during these few seconds I had caught a few of the sentences which were being rapidly interchanged by the others. "She seemed so innocent, so ingénue!" said one. "And I,- I should never have spoken of it," said another, "but for M. Dutoit discovering the loss of his plate." "How incomparably cunning!" "How miraculously skilful! "And by this time they may be anywhere; they must have gone by the first train in the morning." "Of whom do they speak?" said I to the landlord, with a sudden alarm. "Of the gentleman, monsieur, who came yesterday evening, and of mademoiselle his friend. Ah, monsieur, I am ruined, the honor of the hotel is That any one should be robbed in my house!" gone. "Robbed,-what do you mean?" "Last night, monsieur, mademoiselle went into a the hair loose, the eyes fixed, gentleman's room, the face pale. She appears to sleep, monsieur he remains still and will not kill her with affright; she takes his watch, monsieur, the watch she demanded to see last night at table. He observes not this, he falls asleep, this morning he misses his watch, but speaks not. Ah, well, monsieur, he expects to meet her, but she comes not; we go to awake them; they are gone, their apartments are empty; they have fled, monsieur!" "Who is the gentleman who has thus been robbed?" "I, monsieur," replied one of their number, stepping forward with a slight smile which was very apparently forced. "And I also," I said, endeavoring to look quite as unconcerned, "have the honor to be your fellowsufferer." "You, monsieur!" cried they all, having never imagined that besides the unlucky traveller and the landlord there was still another victim. "Mademoiselle also carries off my watch, chain, ring, and some other little matters! But what would you have? Mademoiselle is pleased, and we are too gallant to refuse her any enjoyment." "Mon Dieu, what courage! This Englishman is, without doubt, French, thus to smile in misfor tune." "The wisest thing possible," said another, with a shrug, "for mademoiselle and her friend seem to have laid excellent plans, and by this time will be beyond all pursuit." "With my plate," groaned the poor landlord, "and with the honor of my hotel. Monsieur, am I not a poor miserable?" Certainly M. Dutoit looked sufficiently unhappy; PERIODIC PHENOMENA. Of CONSIDERABLE interest attaches to what may be termed the "periodic phenomena " of nature. such a character are the appearance and disappearance of animals, as bats and badgers, which conceal themselves during the winter, and pass through a ferent seasons by the ermine, the stoat, and their alperiod of hibernation; the change of dress at diflies; the coming and going of the regular winter or summer migratory birds; the retirement and hibernation of reptiles; the movements of certain fish up and down stream for the purpose of spawning; the appearance, transformations, and disappearance of insects; the leafing of trees; the flowering of plants; and more, are worthy of the attention of the lover the ripening of seeds; the fall of leaves; — all these, Linnæus constructed for himself a floral clock, in of nature, and not beneath the dignity of man. Gilbert which the periods of time were indicated by the opening or closing of certain flowers. White, and others since his time, not disdaining to be his disciples in such a work, constructed a calendar, of which periodic phenomena presented themselves to their notice. Humboldt observes of the insects of the tropics, that they everywhere follow a certain standard in the periods at which they alternately arrive and disappear. At fixed and inlatitude, the air is peopled with new inhabitants; variable hours, in the same season, and the same and in a zone where the barometer becomes a clock (by the extreme regularity of the horary variations of the atmospheric pressure), where everything proguess blindfold the hour of the day or night by the ceeds with such admirable regularity, we might which differs according to the nature of the poison hum of the insects, and by their stings, the pain of that each insect deposits in the wound. And the If an observant naturalist, who had been long shut Rev. Leonard Jenyns, the naturalist, remarks, in darkness and solitude, without any measure of open fields and woods, he might gather with considtime, were suddenly brought blindfolded into the erable accuracy from the various notes and noises year might be." which struck his ears, what the exact period of the 66 All such observations as we have alluded to are are of more interest than the migratory movements easily made and as easily recorded, and of all, none of birds. We know that some visit us in the spring and abide during the summer; others direct their their winter. But why this change, whence do they flight hither late in the autumn, and spend with us come, and whither do they go? We can partly answer this question, but only partially. We may dethe perpetuation of the species, is the great moving clare, in general terms, that self-preservation, and That the journey is undertaken in search cause. of food, or a. milder climate, or both, as a consequence the former of the latter, or in search of suitable conditions for rearing their young; yet there |