these simple precautions, to venture into the thickest woods and the most dangerous meadows, and fearlessly seize in their hands the largest and most venemous of the serpent tribe. The reptiles seemed as if under the influence of a sort of charm or fascination, and very rarely attempted to bite; and even if they did, the person only suffered from the temporary inconvenience of the laceration by their teeth, and not from their venom. The story of the mangouste protecting itself by rue is similar to what is related of the European polecat and weasel. Maplett, in his Green Forest; or, A Natural History (1567,) book iii. p. 108, says, that when the polecat encounters serpents, he "goeth and armeth himself with the herb rue, the scent whereof he knoweth to be most offensive and annoious unto them." Franzius says, "Some tell us, that if the young ones of a weasel are at any time hurt, she seeketh out for some herb proper for the distemper, with which she cureth them... She hath a particular way to find out serpents' holes; for she defendeth herself against the serpent by taking some rue into her mouth, and then goeth in boldly to the serpent, and will kill it, let it be ever so big.”—History of Brutes, translated by N. W., 1670, p. 214. Isaac Walton, speaking of the pike, observes, that "Some say he has in him a natural balsam or antidote against poison." Lonicer, however, says, that the pike's physician is the tench, whose slime heals the wounds of that and other fishes, which are reported to spare its life on that account. Diaper says of the pike "The tench he spares, a medicinal kind: For when, by wounds distrest, or sore disease, He courts the salutary fish for ease; Close to his scales the kind physician glides, And sweats a healing balsam from his sides." Eclogues, ii. Mr. Daniel Bydder, an indefatigable collector and observer of insects, told Dr. Leach that the Apis terrestris, a species of bee, "when labouring under acariasis, from the numerous small mites (Gammasus Gymnopterorum, F.) that infest it, will take its station in an ant-hill, where, beginning to scratch, and kick, and make a disturbance, the ants immediately come out and attack it, but falling foul of the mites, they destroy or carry them all off, when the bee, thus delivered of its enemies, takes its flight." Kirby and Spence's Introduction to Entomology, vol. ii. p. 268. In the Memoirs of the French Academy, (vol. i. p. 371, of Dr. Templeton's translation,) M. Demours has given a very particular and amusing account of his having seen, one summer's day, a male frog acting the part of an accoucheur to a female frog in the king's garden. I can easily believe that he saw all that he states; but his inference was hasty and incorrect. The chief object of the male in this transaction was to impregnate the ova which the female was depositing. 66 The old naturalists, whose works contain a strange mixture of truth and fiction, have related a good deal on the subject of animals curing themselves; and some of their examples are highly interesting, from their affording evidences of the extraordinary credulity of our ancestors. Franzius seems to have been particularly anxious to example us with instances." He tells us, that "lions put their claws into their throats, that thereby they may empty themselves, if at any time they have overcharged their stomachs." Of the "panther or libbard,” he says, "If he hath at any time eaten any poison, he presently seeketh for some human dung, which he very eagerly devoureth, and it is a certain remedy for him, speedily curing him. Bears," he says, "exceedingly love honey, and oftentimes do smell out bees in a hollow tree by the scent of the honeycombs, which they desire, possibly not so much out of love to the honey, as to be stung by the bees, which cures them of the headache, a disease with which they are often troubled. If at any time they perceive that they have overcharged their stomachs, they eat pismires, which cause them to vomit, and ease them." He says, "The boar, when ill, cureth himself by the ivy-tree." Of the stag, he says, "When he is wounded with a dart, the only cure he hath is to eat some of the herb called betony, which helpeth both to draw out the dart and to heal the wound. There are a great store of serpents found in Lybia, which cannot endure the stag, which after he hath cleared himself of them, immediately runneth to a river, partly to wash himself from the blood, and partly to wash away any venom that may be in the wounds. The hind eateth cummin, which maketh her bring forth her young ones with a great deal of ease." The chameleon is a perfectly harmless creature; yet our author tells us, "there is a natural antipathy between the chameleon and the crow; as often as they meet, the crow remembereth the poisonous quality that is in the chameleon; and therefore, before he encounters with him, he eateth a leaf or two of laurel, and although he be often wounded in the combat, yet he always is the conqueror." Lastly, he informs us, that the snail "useth the herb called Origanum, or wild marjoram, against serpents and vipers." History of Brutes, translated by N. W., 1670, p. 43-243. Lupton, in his old work, entitled "One Thousand Notable Things," (p. 23,) says, "Asses that are much cumbered with melancholy, do gladly eat citterach, or scale-fern, that they may mend and help the disease of the spleen; goldfinches take eyebright and viper's fennel for the mending of their sight." River Wye," says, "After sailing four miles from Ross, we came to Goodrich Castle, where a grand view presented itself, and we rested on our oars to examine it. A reach of the river, forming a noble hay, is spread before the eye. The bank, on the right, is steep and covered with wood; beyond which a bold promontory shoots out, crowned by the castle, rising among trees. This view, which is the grandest on the river, I shall not scruple to call correctly picturesque, which is seldom the character of a purely natural scene." Is an interesting ruin, situated on an eminence on the banks of the Wye, which is so remarkable for the varied beauties of its scenery. This castle appears to have been of considerable strength, though not very extensive. The various styles of architecture visible in the remains, indicate that it was originally built by the Anglo-Saxons, and held, most probably, by them as a frontier post; but it had evidently undergone successive alterations by the Normans in the twelfth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries. In the reign of King John, and in several succeeding reigns, it was in the possession of the Earls of Pembroke, but afterwards passed into the Talbot family. During the civil wars it was held (in turns) by both parties; at first it was occupied by the parliament, but in 1646 it was garrisoned for the king, by Sir Richard Lingen, but retaken by Colonel Birch. Mr. Gilpin, in his "Observations on the The channel of no river can be more decisively marked than that of the Wye. Who hath divided a water-course for the flowing of the rivers? saith the Almighty, in that grand apostrophe to Job on the works of creation. The idea is happily illustrated here. A nobler water-course was never divided for any river than this of the Wye. THE DISHCLOUT. WE have often been amused at the ignorance of some people and the pretended stupidity of others. Some are unconscious that there is such a thing as a dishclout, while others plead a "non mi ricordo," or a thorough contempt for it; but this is sheer silliness, or something worse, and arises principally from their not possessing proper and judicious ideas on the subject. They may, no doubt, affect to despise it as much as they please, but what, pray, would they be without it? It ministers more to the comfort of her Majesty and her royal consort, and of her loving subjects generally, than any other article of domestic, or even political economy. For what, we ask, could Sir Robert Peel do, without his dishclouts, in the two or three houses which he maintains? Table napkins may be all very tidy, and tablecloths very white and pretty, towels may be useful, and dusters indispensable; but what are they all, compared to the dishclout? What associations are not connected with or called up by it! It is the prime mover, the all-useful, the "sine qua non" of the scul lery; and without the antecedency of it, what Englishman could enjoy his dinner in comfort? Besides, however, the usefulness of it, it is capable of exciting noble and romantic ideas, and its name becomes the medium of displaying them with peculiarly striking effect. "I'll be no man's dishclout!" is the expression of an independent freeman; but it is surpassed by the firm declaration of the slave determined to be free, and sounding the tocsin of resistance: "I'll be your dishclout no longer!" Words like these carry terror to the souls of oppressors. Not only is it used in a figurative sense, but it is employed, at least in one instance, as itself the instrument of obtaining freedom. Instances are numerous of its application in satirical pieces: "She preen'd the dishclout to his tail, is an example of its being used to cast contempt upon an unaccepted suitor, who loved -the maiden's money. "Her eyne were red, her breath it smelt is in ridicule of what our ancestors would have called an ugly, but we, in our politeness, call a very plain" woman. 66 "While he graned* she leuch, And shook at him the dishclout," affords us a display of the manner in which a wicked wife could, at one time, find pleasure in tormenting an uxorious husband. "She had a tub, a pail, a sieve, Twa hippens, an' a dishclout," may be cited as an historical inventory of the "goods and chattels" of a widow in the fifteenth century; and "The pots and pans were black as sloes, shews the interest the wooer took in these articles in the temporary absence of his mistress. Many more instances might be adduced that the older poets, in their illustrations of nature, did not overlook such an useful and important piece of housewifery. That our fancy poets of the present day have not bestowed upon it the attention it deserves, is no fault of the dishclouts. Many a most amiable and valuable woman is equally overlooked, simply because there are more gaudy, though more useless competitors for general admiration. This is a misfortune. Says Shakspeare, "A rose By any other name would smell as sweet;" so would not the dishclout. Its smell, its look, its quality, is peculiarly its own, and any misnomer immediately changes its identity. It is itself, and can be nothing else. What need then for more evidence of its universal usefulness, or of the benefits obtained by its being oftener associated with noble, independent, romantic, sentimental, which in its turn derives effect from the satirical, and historical poetry, each of aid of the unnoted and neglected dishclout. Like the splendid sun, we are so regularly and constantly accustomed to the effects of it, that we seldom think upon the thing itself, and it is only during its absence that we feel its loss. "Where's the dish * Moaned, or complained, without sufficient cause. One of the ancestors of M. de Morency was the proprietor of a large hill, called Mount Tongue; he built a castle with a moat round it, erected a drawbridge, and thought proper to change the name of the hill to that of Mont-Morency. At the extremities of the roads that lead to the manor, M. le Comte had these words posted up in large characters, " Chemin du Mont Le Feuilleton of French Literature. Morency," then, when this inscription, which MARGUERITE. (From the French of Frederic Soulié.) BY THE AUTHOR OF "SKETCHES IN FRANCE," ETC. A FEW years ago several large houses, which, judging from their appearance, could neither be called hotels nor private dwellings, enlivened the streets of Neuvedes-Mathurins. There were five or six of these houses, the first of which was parallel with the street, and had a garden of some extent; then came another, and so on for a considerable distance. A side gateway, practicable to horses, led to an immense court, where the stables and coach-houses to these habitations were situated. I do not think that any of them have escaped speculation, and that we shall still find united, under the regime of one concierge, a halfdozen of houses having a rez-de-chaussée and a first-floor occupied only by one or by respective families. Things, now-adays, are widely different from that, for the inhabitants of the immense houses, which contain no less than twenty tenants, are as little known to each other as if they lived in different streets. It was not the case in the houses of la rue Neuve-desMathurins, where the events we are about to relate transpired, for one could see from the windows all that was passing, and the garden was always open to the gaze of the curious. One of these houses was occupied by M. Morency, another by M. Chambel. M. Morency, who styled himself, and wished to be called, Le Comte de Morency, was about sixty years of age. He had what a person might term a large head upon a little body, and that head, as if too heavy, was always inclined towards his right shoulder; therefore, probably to establish the vertical line, he wore a hat of unusual height cocked on his left ear, which gave him the appearance of an enormous piton fini en crochet. I am not able to state that the title of M. de Morency was properly obtained; but there is a lawsuit in the history of his family which might throw suspicion upon the manner by which it was acquired; in fact, the family of M. de Morency was of Auvergne, where, at the end of the seventeenth century, it inherited immense property. had been prudently written with charcoal, was effaced, and required renewal, it became "Chemin de Montmorency;" and before the lapse of fifteen years people went no longer au Montmorency, but à Montmorency, and M. So-and-so was no longer invited to dine at M. de Morency, but at M. de Montmorency. These things continued for upwards of twelve years, when a real Montmorency, passing through the country, was astonished to discover a branch of his family of which he had never before heard; he inquired into the matter, and on ascertaining the truth, entered an action against M. Morency, who, at the instance of the parliament of Riom, in 1721, was compelled to relinquish the name and arms of a family to which he did not belong. This was made a common talk of in the country, and gave rise to many insinuations as to the origin of Morency; but, fortunately for this gentleman, he was very rich, and had a wife whose hospitality was as boundless as her beauty was rare. The clamour was soon silenced, and Morency_still retained the appendage of Comte. He transmitted this title to numerous descendants, who, as they never had made any eclat in the world, were allowed to continue it without remark or dispute. One thing, however, they took care to do, from father to son-to dissipate each a portion of the immense fortune of their ancestors, so that when the revolution broke out, the Morency of whom we are speaking, and whose father emigrated, was deprived of a heritage which produced from 12,000l. to 15,000l. of rental, and of 600,000l. of debt. That, nevertheless, in 1814, did not prevent him from being considered a victim of revolutionary spoliation; and at the epoch of indemnity the matter was compromised by his receiving a sum of 400,000 francs. We must admit that M. de Morency merited this liberal distinction by his devotedness to the elder branch of the Bourbons. Forgetting the pride of his ancestors, he took to the profession of a journalist, and wrote several extravagant articles in favour of the most foolish measures, which he almost made appear reasonable. hearing of the proscription of all who took an active part in the revolution, of the reprisals of national wealth, and the confiscation of the property of condemned politicians, from one of the principal organs of the vanquishing On party, the government did not know what to do, on account of the exigencies of the times, and notwithstanding the effrontery and foolishness of such measures, was compelled to adopt them. A cross of St. Louis had recompenced the military services of this illustrious personage; une croix d'honneur had been awarded to him in honour of his literary glory, and he owed the yellow and black of his large ribbon to services that Madame de Morency had rendered to Russia and Prussia. M. le Comte, you must know, was married; but of what country, or where his wife came from, no one had asked. People said that she was German, and that she had no surviving relations, when she married M. de Morency, save a nephew who was about a year old. A fellow journalist of M. le Comte remarked that Mdlle. Catherine Markfief spoke French exceedingly well, but knew nothing of German; however, as the countess was a very fine woman, very good, and very affable, no one ever spoke to her about her ignorance of her mothertongue. At the epoch at which our story begins, Madame de Morency was a woman of thirty-eight years, having the leger embonpoint which gives women of that age a freshness that they did not possess in their youth. As for the rest, she was very well-pretty feet, small delicate hands, white teeth, fine eyes, plump figure, and, what was more, she possessed the art of setting all her at tractions off to advantage. She and her husband, with her nephew, who had now reached his twentieth year, inhabited one of the houses of which we have just spoken. Another of these houses, as we have previously stated, was occupied by a Monsieur Chambel. This gentleman was about twenty-five years of age, and had just made his debut in literature by a recueil de poesies, which had obtained considerable success. With respect to his person, this young man had what people term a good carriage, and a certain ardour of expression in his countenance, which could not fail to be remarked by a lady who thinks herself skilled in the passions; as to the morality of M. Chambel, perhaps I shall be better able to give my readers an idea of it by analyzing his book than by endeavouring to depict his character. This book begins with an article imprecating the vices of the age :-The abominable power which destroys; the monstrous people, drunk and stupified, who roll along the streets; the rich, who drink the sweat of the poor from golden cups: the wretches who declaim against virtue and supreme power; the indifference of society for all, and its love of all;-all this rubbish-all this pêle-mêle of incoherent ideas, without design, without rule, and which is the groundwork of the inspirations of many of our young poets, were introduced into this extraordinary effusion. As we proceed, holy faith and religious hope sing of the serene aspect of the country; of the clock which strikes l'Angelus, the flock entering the sheepfold, and the universal prayer of nature to heaven. In one of the pages of this book we find a chaste admonition to a young girl, telling her to keep a strict watch over her couronne blanche, to fall upon her knees on receiving the benediction of her parents, and to remain the immaculate dove which is ever privileged to appear without fear before the Eternal; then, a few pages further on, we have a passionate invocation to a woman to shake off the heavy yoke of an ill-arranged marriage. The union of a pure soul with an uncultivated mind, of a heart teeming with passion with a cold and sordid being, is, according to the words of the poet, contrary to virtue, and ought to be discontinued. Pierre Chambel was one of those beings, and there are many such, who was influenced by the thoughts of others without having an idea of his own; he was, however, endowed with the power of giving them an inspired utterance, and was an echo which added tenfold to the noise by which it was originated; he was an admirable instrument, with which one could speak all languages, and express all passions; and upon this account he had attracted the attention of men of superior intellect, more particularly that of l'Abbé Norton, who was one of the constant guests of Madame Morency. Pierre Chambel was married, and his wife was la muse that had inspired the last morceau of poetry which we have mentioned; she had left the " uncultivated mind to which her intellectual soul was so unfortunately allied," and had followed her young seducteur to Paris. Six months after this event her husband was killed when on a hunting excursion, and a year after the accident she was enabled to marry Pierre Chambel, without, so to speak, having the remorse of killing her first husband; but although all seemed repaired in the eyes of the world, there did not exist between Pierre and Isure that pure confidence which is the basis of all happiness. Madame Chambel was thirty-two years of age, and her husband was only twenty-five. She was proud, resolute, and haughty; he unstable, easy, and cared little about his dignity. Thus it was an inexplicable mystery to Isure, how her husband could speak so forcibly, and in so bold and peremptory a manner, yet in the most trivial actions of his life be uncertain, and allowed himself to be tossed, by the influence which spurred him, from one side to another. About three months after the publication of "Le Recueil" M. Chambel came to live in la rue Neuve-des-Matharins, and about |