did not enter into any explanation of the causes which had led him to form this extraordinary propensity,and, of course, I could not well ask him concerning it. He talked of it very freely, however, as it did exist.He said he got the first cords cheaply enough-but that lately his taste had become known among the executioners, and they had accordingly raised their price upon him very considerably. For some of his later purchases he had given five guineas a-piece.

In all this there was not-at least there did not appear to be-any feeling of levity;-extraordinary, and even revolting as it was, he did not make it additionally so by any misplaced or disgusting jest ;- he seemed to talk of it as a matter of course-very much, as I have said, as an antiquarian would do of his cabinet of curiosities. Alas, into what extraordinary whims does the mind run itself! Here is a man-apparently in other things sensible and respectable,-who devotes a large portion of his time-spends considerable sums of money-and renders himself ridiculous, if not odious, to all his friends, for the sake of making a collection which has every conceivable reason to be revolting to every physical and moral feeling of human nature.

SCRAPS,

ORIGINAL AND SELECTED.

"Inest sua gratia parvis."

AN EVERY-DAY OCCURRENCE.

From my Memoirs.

I HAD last seen Mr. Disbrook when I was quite a child,-a child about six years of age; when I sat upon his knee, and listened most attentively to the wonderful and very entertaining stories which he used to tell me. I then was very wild and happy; and he was one of those fine, free-hearted fellows who are not too aware of their own importance, to notice children. I had raced with him,-ay, and beaten him too, down the long walk at Fromewood. I had galloped over Shrawford-common on my black poney beside him, even when he was mounted on his superb hunter, "Duke Humphrey." By-the-bye, that Duke Humphrey was out of Sir Charles Bunbury's famous Jezebel.

I was, when I had last seen Mr. Disbrook, a thoughtless child, yet not so thoughtless as to forget him ;—for years he held a most distinguished place in my memory

and affections.

We left Wiltshire; I was sent off to school, and my father sold Fromewood to Lord M-s. Eleven years passed away before I beheld again our old residence. I went down with my father to visit Lord M Fromewood was ever a most interesting place to me ;

-S.

I was born there, and of course I was never tired of exploring all my old haunts about the house and grounds; I loved them with all the clinging fancies, and fond associations of boyish memory ;-some corners in my heart remained as young and child-like as ever, and into those corners a thousand feelings had crowded and kept close, which I begun to feel half ashamed of permitting to come abroad, as I grew into a tall, and-I must confess it-rather an awkward lad,neither a man nor a boy.

The second day after my arrival at Fromewood, I heard that Mr. Disbrook was in the house. I was in my bed-room just then, for I went up rather early to dress for dinner, because-now don't smile because I was anxious to try the powers of the first razor I had ever possessed. I had stirred up a famous lather, and was standing on tiptoe before the glass,-the soap-suds half stopped up my nostrils,-I had drawn the razor from the hot water, and was already brandishing the reeking blade, when my father opened the door, and said, "Charles, I hear that Mr. Disbrook is in the library." Down went the razor,—the foaming bubbles of the lather shrunk away in the shaving-box,-I wiped the soap from "my unrazored lip" and chin,-flung on my coat and waistcoat, and was down stairs in a minute. The image of Mr. Disbrook had so long hovered about my memory, that I had shaped his character, and even his person, to my own favourite ideas of my old kind-hearted companion. For the moment I quite forgot that I was no longer a boy ;-I rushed into the room, and seized his hand. I knew that I could not be mistaken, for he was in the library alone with Lady Ms. I scarcely looked up, my whole heart was dancing with joy; a thousand words were at my tongue's end, when I did look him full in the face, and really stared at him,

for I saw a look of calm, cool surprise, and felt only the coldest return to my hearty shake of the hand. "Don't you remember me?" I exclaimed, eagerly. "I cannot say I do, Sir," replied a very tranquil voice, while a provokingly-quiet smile just curled his lip. "I am Charles S- -r. Don't you remember a wild mischievous boy, who was much noticed by you a long

must remember.'

I

"I have some slight recolbe a long time ago," said

while ago;—I'm sure you paused, for my eye met his. lection, but it must, indeed, the voice, in a still cooler tone, while the smile lost all its dim lustre. It was not what he said-it was his look, and that I can't describe,-though I don't forget it. I could not help sinking into a deep reverie for some minutes, then my thoughts woke up, and I became seventeen again,--all my cool common-place feelings returned at once. Mr. Disbrook had turned awayI looked round, and attentively surveyed him from head to foot, to observe if it were really the Mr. Disbrook, the gay friend of my boyhood, who stood before me. There was enough of his former self remaining to tell me I was not mistaken as to the person; but the Mr. Disbrook I now beheld was a staid, thin, gentlemanly man, much shorter than myself. I listened, half unconsciously, to his voice,-he was talking in a dry languid tone to Lady M-s, about the state of the roads. The window was open-I stepped out into the verandah, and began to think. I gravely walked down the steps, still in deep thought ;-onward I walked, till I stopped at the gate of the Mill-Meadow, or rather, the gate stopped me. There I stood leaning both my elbows on the gate, and my head on both my hands, whistling very loudly, but not for want of thought. Was there ever any thing more annoying?-Up rushed a galloping,

scampering, herd of pigs, which had been grubbing about in the field. They heard my whistle, and came grunting, and poking their snouts through the lower bars of the gate. I was completely disconcerted, and burst out into an absolute roar of laughter. It was too late to try my new razor that day. Mr. Disbrook stayed to dinner ;-I rather like him.

CANZONET.

LOVE and Joy, one April day,
Stole a fragile bark, they say;
But, when they got once afloat,-
Quarrell 'd which should steer the boat.
Love grew angry,-seized his quiver,
And struck poor Joy into the river!

And tho' his pinions buoy'd him on the wave!
And tho' he wept and pray'd; Love would not save,
But frowning turn'd away- -He found a wat`ry grave.

Still the bark is sailing on,

But Love steers her all alone;
Mournful sits the cruel boy,

Weeping for the death of Joy,

Whose phantom sometimes flits around the mast,
Recalling all the brightness of the past;

But if repentant Love woos the light form to stay,
He spreads his rainbow-wing, and instant flies away.

IMPROMPTU,

ON SEEING A BEAUTIFUL FRENCH GIRL, WHOSE MOTHER WAS

ENGLISH.

No wonder that her cheeks disclose

A blush so crimson, and a skin so fair;

England has lent her loveliest rose,

To blend with France's lilies there.