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Such was the brief history of this practical philosopher ; and it is a picture of many a Frenchman ruined by the Revolution. The French appear to have a greater facility than most men, in accommodating themselves to the reverses of life, and of extracting honey out of the bitter things of this world. The first shock of calamity is apt to overwhelm them; but when it is once past, their natural buoyancy of feeling soon brings them again to the surface. This may be called the result of levity of character, but it answers the end of reconciling us to misfortune ; and if it be not true philosophy, it is something almost as efficacious. Ever since I have heard the story of my little Frenchman, I have treasured it up in my heart; and I thank my stars I have at length found what I had long considered as not to be found on earthA CONTENTED MAN.

P. S.-There is no calculating on human happiness. Since writing the foregoing, the law of indemnity has been passed, and my friend restored to a great part of his fortune. I was absent from Paris at the time, but on my return hastened to congratulate him. I found him magnificently lodged on the first floor of his hotel. I was ushered, by a servant in livery, through splendid saloons, to a cabinet richly furnished, where I found my little Frenchman reclining upon a couch. He received me with his usual cordiality; but I saw the gaiety and benevolence of his countenance had fled: he had an eye full of care and anxiety. I congratulated him on his good fortune.“ Good fortune!" echoed he; “ bah! I have been plundered of a princely fortune, and they give me a pittance as an indemnity.” Alas! I found my late poor and contented friend one of the richest and most miserable men in Paris. Instead of rejoicing in the ample competency restored to him, he is daily repining at the superfluity withheld. He no longer wanders in happy idleness about Paris, but is a repining attendant in the anti-chambers of ministers. His loyalty has evaporated with his

gaiety; he screws his mouth when the Bourbons are mentioned, and even shrugs his shoulders when he hears the praises of the king. In a word, he is one of the many philosophers undone by the law of indemnity, and his case is desperate ; for I doubt whether even another reverse of fortune, which would restore him to poverty, could make him again a happy man.

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[OUR readers are probably aware that such is the number

of Englishmen who now reside in France and Italy, that it has become a regular branch of trade in these countries to print books in English solely for their use. This is chiefly done with those the value of whose copyrights greatly enhances the price of the cditions printed at home. Among such are the Waverley Novels, Byron's Works, and Moore's Melodies. A copy of the latter, printed at Pisa, has been presented to us by a travelled friend, which is rendered peculiarly valuable from its having what the editor confidently alleges are verses - generally following, but sometimes interspersed with those published with the musie

that were written at the same time as the others, but from the fashionable notions as to the proper length of a piece for singing, bitherto kept from the public eye. Agreeing with this preface-writer that the airs of the Irish Melodies are generally so beautiful, that one would almost pardon a dull verse that procures us the repetition of one of them, we shall from time to time extract from this volume, and follow its example by printing the hitherto unpublished verses in Italic type, to distinguish them, even if a certain wire-drawn weakness, which we fancy we discern in these, did not sufficiently point them out.- ED.)


The harp that once through Tara’s halls

The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls

As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,

So glory's thrill is o'er,
And hearts that once beat high for praise,

Now feel that pulse no more !

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THE RED-NOSED LIEUTENANT. FIVE and twenty years ago, I was just five and twenty years of age; I was thus neither young nor old; in addition, I was neither handsome nor ugly, neither rich nor poor, neither active nor indolent, neither a Socrates nor a simpleton. More ordinary men than I had been married for love, poorer men had got credit and rolled on their carriage wheels till it was out, and greater fools had been cabinet counsellors. Yet all this did not satisfy me. Years had swept along, and I was exactly the same in

point of publicity at five and twenty that I had been at fifteen. Let no man say that the passion for being something or other in the world's eye is an improbable thing. Show me that man, and I will show him my Lord A. driving a mail coach, the Earl of B. betting at a boxingmatch, the Marquis of C. the rival of his own grooms, and the Duke of D. a director of the opera. My antagonist has only to look and be convinced; for what could throw these patricians into the very jaws of public jest, but the passion for publicity? I pondered long upon this, and my resolution to do something was at length fixed. But the grand difficulty remained-what was the thing to be done ? what was the grand chemin d'honneur, the longest stride to the temple of fame-the royal road to making a figure in one's generation ? The step was too momentous to be rashly taken, and I took time enough, for I took a year. On my six and twentieth birth-day I discovered that I was as wise and as public as on my birth-day before, and a year older besides! While I was in this state of fluctuation, my honoured uncle arrived in town, and called upon me. Let me introduce this most excellent and most mutilated man. He had commenced his career in the American war, a bold, brave, blooming ensign; what he was now I shall not describe. But he had taken the earliest opportunity of glory, and at Bunker's Hill had lost an eye. He was nothing the worse as a mark for an American rifle; and at Brandywine he had the honour of seeing La Fayette run away before him, and paid only a right leg as his tribute of the victory. My uncle followed on the road to glory, gaining a new leaf of laurel and losing an additional fragment of himself in every new battle, till with Burgoyne he left his nose in the swamps of Saratoga; whence, having had the good fortune to make his escape, he distinguished himself at the siege of York Town, under Cornwallis, and left only an arm in the ditch of the rampart. He had returned a major, and after lying on his back for two years in the military

hospital, was set at liberty to walk the world on a pair of crutches, and be called colonel. I explained my difficulty to this venerable remnant of soldiership. “ Difficulty !” cried he, starting up on his residuary leg, "I see none whatever. You are young, healthy, and have the use of all your limbs—the very thing for the army!” I glanced involuntarily at his own contributions to the field. He perceived it and retorted, “ Sir, I know the difference between us as well as if I were the field-surgeon. I should never have advised you to march if you had not limbs enough for the purpose; but you have your complement.” “ And therefore can afford to lose them, my good uncle,” said I. “ Nephew," was the reply, “ sneering is no argument, except among civilians. But if a man wants to climb at once to a name, let him try the army. Have you no estate ? why, the regiment is your freehold : have you no education ? why, the colour of your coat will stand you in place of it with three-fourths of the men and all the women: have you no brains? why, their absence will never be missed at the mess; and as for the field, not half-a-dozen in an army ever exhibit any pretensions of the kind.”

This was too flattering a prospect to be overlooked. I took the advice; in a week was gazetted into a marching regiment, and in another week was on board his majesty's transport, No. 10, with a wing of the gallant thirty — regiment, tacking out of Portsmouth, on our way to Gibraltar. Military men have it, that there are three bad passages—the slow, the quick, and the neither quick nor slow; pronouncing the two former detestable, the latter - ! the storm making a man sick of the sea, the calm making him sick of himself, a much worse thing; and the alternation of calm and storm bringing both sicknesses into one. My first passage was distinguished by being of the third order. I found my fellow subalterns a knot of good-humoured beings, the boys with the habits of men, the men with the tricks of boys,

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