I was well aware, that to put a stop to my goings on was of the utmost importance. Accordingly I commenced practising, but, alas! the sight of a particular member of the soft sex, who for me, be it known, felt a little hardour, drew me from my labours.

I was naturally desrious of proving to her the progress I had made, and could make, on my skates, and determined to perform grace before meating. Accordingly, striking out with all my elegance, I was proceeding most delightfully along the ice, my eyes actively superintending my legs, and myself becoming more and more pleased with my feat, when I was suddenly roused from my self-satisfaction by a most disheartening hiss; I raised my eyes to see from what indiscriminating object it could proceed; when, to my horror, I discovered it came from a number of swans, towards whose quarters, or rather wholes, I was rapidly advancing.

To stop myself I knew was impossible. Each skate seemed to be eager to enter its own element. Into it I was aware I must go; and, apparently, as calmly as it it were a matter of choice-so I did; and, consequently, my plunge was accompanied with a burst of laughter. All sympathy for my situation was exceedingly scarce, for it was not until I had given two bobs that I was offered the least assistance. It was then a philanthropic individual tried to save me from drowning by a rope, but it was certainly not his line. I gave another bob; and, upon making what must have been my last appearance, the first thing that caught my eye was a thing with a hook; in which horrid situation I was dragged ashore, taken to the Receiving House, where, in about three or four hours, I was brought to.

PRINCE HENRY AND CHIEF JUSTICE
GASCOIGNE.

A FAVOURITE servant of King Henry V., when Prince of Wales, was indicted for a misdemeanor; and notwithstanding the interest he exerted in his behalf, was convicted and condemned. The prince was so incensed at the issue of the trial, that forgetting his own dignity and the respect due to the administration of justice, he rushed into court, and commanded that his servant should be unfettered and set at liberty. The Chief Justice, Sir William Gascoigne, mildly reminded the Prince of the reverence which was due to the ancient laws of the kingdom; and advised him, if he had any hope of exempting the culprit from the rigour of his sentence, to apply for the gracious pardon of the king, his father, a course of proceeding which would be no derogation to either law or justice. The prince, far from being appeased by this discreet answer, hastily turned toward the prisoner, and was attempting to take him by force out of the hands of the officers, when the chief justice, roused by so flagrant a contempt of authority, commanded the prince on his allegiance instantly to leave the prisoner and quit the court. Henry, all in a fury, stepped up to the judgment seat, with the intention, as every one thought, of doing some personal injury to the chief justice; but he quickly stopped short, awed by the majestic sternness which frowned from the brow of the judge as he thus addressed him: "Sir, remember yourself. I keep here the place of the king, your sovereign lord and father, to whom you owe double allegiance. In his name, therefore, I charge you to desist from your dis

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obedience and unlawful enterprise, and henceforin give a better example to those who shall hereafter be your own subjects. And now, for the contempt and disobedience you have shown, I commit you to the prison of the King's Bench, there to remain until the pleasure of the king your father be known."

Henry, by this time, sensible of the insult he had offered to the laws of his country, suffered himself to be quietly conducted to jail by the officers of justice. His father, Henry IV., was no sooner informed of this transaction, than he exclaimed in a transport of joy, "Happy is the king who has a magistrate possessed of courage to execute the laws; and still more happy in having a son who will submit to the punishment inflicted for offending them."

THE DOG OF MONTARGIS.

THE fame of an English dog has been deservedly transmitted to posterity by a monument in basso relievo, which still remains on the chimney-piece of the grand hall at the Castle of Montargis in France. The sculpture, which represents a dog fighting with a champion, is explained by the following narrative.

Aubri de Mondidier, a gentleman of family and fortune, travelling alone through the forest of Bondi, was murdered and buried under a tree. His dog, an English bloodhound, would not quit his master's grave for several days, till at length, compelled by hunger, he proceeded to the house of an intimate friend of the unfortunate Aubri, at Paris, and by his melancholy nowling, seemed desirous of expressing the loss they nad both sustained. He repeated his cries, ran to the

door, looked back to see if any one followed him, returned to his master's friend, pulled him by the sleeve, and with dumb eloquence entreated him to go with him.

The singularity of these actions of the dog, added to the circumstance of his coming there without his ́ master, whose faithful companion he had always been, prompted the company to follow the animal, who conducted them to a tree, where he renewed his howl, scratching the earth with his feet, and significantly entreating them to search that particular spot. Accordingly, on digging, the body of the unhappy Aubri was found.

Some time after, the dog accidentally met the assassin, who is styled, by all the historians that relate this fact, the Chevalier Macaire, when instantly seizing him by the throat, he was with great difficulty comvelled to quit his prey.

In short, whenever the dog saw the chevalier, he continued to pursue and attack him with equal fury. Such obstinate virulence in the animal, confined only to Macaire, appeared very extraordinary; especially to those who at once recollected the dog's remarkable attachment to his master, and several instances in which Macaire's envy and hatred to Aubri de Mondidier, had been conspicuous.

Additional circumstances created suspicion; and at length the affair reached the royal ear. The king (Louis VIII.) accordingly sent for the dog, who ap peared extremely gentle, till he perceived Macaire in the midst of several noblemen, when he ran fiercely towards him, growling and attacking him as usual.

The king, struck with such a collection of circumstantial evidence against Macaire, determined to refer

the decision to the chance of battle; in other words, he gave orders for a combat between the chevalier and the dog. The lists were appointed in the Isle of Notre Dame, then an unenclosed, uninhabited place, and Macaire was allowed for his weapon a great cudgel.

An empty cask was given to the dog as a place of retreat, to enable him to recover breath. Every thing being prepared, the dog no sooner found himself at liberty, than he ran round his adversary, avoiding his blows, and menacing him on every side, till his strength was exhausted; then springing forward, he griped him by the throat, threw him on the ground, and obliged him to confess his guilt, in the presence of the king and the whole court. In consequence of this, the chevalier, after a few days, was convicted upon his own acknowledgment, and beheaded on a scaffold in the Isle of Notre Dame.

The above recital is translated from a French work of merit, and is cited by many critical writers, particularly Julius Scaliger, and Montfaucon, who has given an engraved representation of the combat between the dog and the chevalier.

JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD.

In one of the morning excursions of John, Duke of Bedford, about the year 1765, he observed a woman at a short distance from him wringing her hands, weeping aloud, and discovering every mark of the deepest distress. Moved with sympathy, he immediately approached her, desired her to dry up her tears, and tell him the cause of her sorrow; promising at the same