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thing beyond and above itself; in the one case a prose epic | promise you a hundred times not to wish to know about which exbausts the life of Paris, in the other a philosophi- your bygone life, I never have any peace ? , I can bear it cal satire which exhausts the life of provincial England.

His face, too, did indeed bear a look of longNow epics and philosophy are not for him who runs to continued suffering. read. Accordingly many readers who come to works such Yes, Botolf, you did indeed promise me to let that as these, expecting nothing more nor less than an enter- thing rest — that which I can never, never tell you about. taining novel, are often disappointed and angry at finding You promised me solemnly; you said you did n't care something far greater. They open what they thought a about it, if you could but have me. Botolf !” she extavern door, and straightway they are in a temple. For claimed again, sinking to her knees before bim upon the our part we think there are not yet too many of such splen- heather; and she wept as though her very life were in did disappointments in the world.

peril, and so looked at him through her fast-falling tears On the other hand, there is no lack of novels to which ibat she seemed at once the loveliest and most miserable the foregoing remarks cannot be said to apply, for the plain creature he had ever seen in all bis days. reason that they will not bear reading through. As to .“ Oh dear me!” he exclaimed, rising, but then directly these, if they are to be read at all, it matters but little when sitting down again, “ if you did but love me well enough and how they are taken up and laid down. We will not to have confidence in me, how happy we two might be !" say that a novel which cannot be read through has no right “ If you, rather, could but have a little confidence in to exist, for it may have considerable merit in parts. But me !" she implored, coming nearer him, still upon her then its claims, whatever they are, must not be made in knees, and looking yearningly into his face. “Love you ! the capacity of a novel; for a good novel is an organic Why, that very night when your ship had run into ours, whole, a work of art. The sort of novel we speak of can when I came up on the deck and you stood there in combe treated only as a quantity of printed matter which hap- mand, I thought I never had seen anybody so brave and pens to contain certain brilliant fragments. The rest manly; and I loved you from that moment. And then might be tables of logarithms, or proverbial philosophy, or when you carried me over into the boat when the ships anytbing else unreadable. When this is the case, odd were sinking, I once more felt, what I thought I never minutes will clearly do as well as any other time for pick- should feel again, a wish to live.” She wept in silence, ing out whatever good there is in the mass; indeed better, with her hands clasped together, resting upon his knee. since those favorable seasons whose advantages we have “ Botolfi" then she exclaimed, “ be good and noble; be as tried to indicate should be carefully reserved for books you were when you first took me! Botolf |” worthy to occupy them. It may be said, no doubt, with “Why do you urge me so ?” he replied, almost harshly. some justice, that there is a vicious reciprocal action in “ You know very well it can't be. One must have a modern literature, hasty reading and careless writing giv- | woman's whole soul; though for a little while at first, pering one another mutual encouragement. But we believe haps, one is content without." care and skill always have their reward in the end; and She drew back, and said hopelessly, we trust that a deeper culture will in time eradicate the “ Ab, well, then, my life can never come right again I slovenly habits induced in both writers and readers by the O God I” and once more she began to weep. present diffusion of superficial taste.

“ Trust me with the whole of your life, and not merely a part of it, and it will all come right so far as I am concerned.”

He spoke cheerfully, as though to encourage ber.

She did not answer; but he saw she was struggling with
A LIFE'S ENIGMA.

berself.

“ Master yourse!f,” he urged : “ run the risk of doing as A NORWEGIAN SKETCH.

I wish. Things can't be worse than they are now, at any BY BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON, AUTHOR OF “ARNE,” ETC.

rate."

“You 'll drive me to the very worst,” she said piteously. “ Why sit here?'

He misunderstood her, and continued, “ Because it's high and pleasant.”

“ Even if you have to confess the greatest crime to me, " But it goes so deep down, it makes me quite giddy; | I'll try to bear up; but this I can't bear.” and the sun shines so dazzling on the water; let's go a lit- “ No; and neither can I!” she exclaimed; and she rose. tle fartber.”

“I'll help you," he said, rising also; “ day by day I'll “ No — not any farther.”

belp you, when I only know what this thing is. But I'm "Just back, then, as far as that green enclosure – it was quite too proud to be with a woman I don't fully know 80 pleasant there."

about; and who, perhaps, belongs to somebody else.” “No - I say — not there, either;" and he flung himself A bright flush came over her face. down, as if he either could not, or would not, go farther. “ For sbame! If you talk of pride, I'm a good deal

She remained standing, with her eyes intently fixed upon prouder than you are ; and I won't have you say such him.

things. So, stop!” “ Aasta," then he said, “ now you must explain to me “ If you 're so very proud, then, why do you leave room why it was you were so much afraid of that foreign skipper for my suspicions ?who came in just in the dusk of the evening."

“God help me! I can bear this no longer!” “ Did n't I think that was it !” she whispered, and “ No, nor I either; I've made a vow it shall come to an seemed to wish to avoid the matter.

end this day." “ Yes, you must tell me before you go, else I shall never “ How cruel it is,” she wailed out, “ to go on worrying come again.”

and tormenting a woman who has trusted herself so fully to “ Botolf I” she exclaimed; and she turned, but still re- you, and has begged and prayed of you as I have been domained standing

ing." She was near again beginning to weep, but with a “ It's true,” he continued, “I promised you I would n't sudden change of feeling she exclaimed, "Yes, I see how ask any questions, and I'll still keep my word if you it is, you think by provoking and exciting me, you 'll get but then things must come to an end between us.'

things out of me !" She looked at him indignantly, and Sbe burst into tears, and came over to him, with the sun turned aside. shining full upon her slender little figure, small hands, and Then she heard him say slowly, word by word, soft golden hair, wherefrom the kerchief had fallen.

“ Will you, or will you not ?" He sprang up.

“I will not,” replied she, stretching out her hand; “no, “ Yes!” he exclaimed, “ you know very well when you not if you gave me all we can see from here!” She went come looking like that at me, I always give in to you. from him, her bosom heaved, and her eyes wandered to and But I know, too, that the longer this thing goes on, the fro, but mostly looked towards him, now sternly, next sorworse it gets. Can't you understand that, though I may rowfully, then sternly again. She leaned against a tree

like ;

gave a loud

and wept; then ceased weeping, and returned to her former Surely he had made a terrible mistake. A woman penimood.

tent on account of some guilty thing would have found re“Ah, I knew very well you did n't love me," she heard lief in confessing it to her husband; and one still impeninext, and became in a moment the most humble and peni- tent would have sought refuge in some evasion or other. tent of creatures.

But Aasta had neither confessed anything, nor had reTwice she tried to answer, but, instead, she flung her- course to any evasion, but had sought refuge in death when self down upon the heather, and hid her face in her hands. he had so tormented her. Such conduct showed no sign Botolf came forward and stood over her.

of guilt. But why not? Some folks had a great dread of She knew he was there, and she waited for him to speak, confessing anything. Aasta, however, had no such dread; and tried to prepare herself for whatever he might say ; for she had already confessed there was something about but not a word came, and she grew yet more disturbed, and her life which she could never tell him. Perhaps, then, felt obliged to look up. She sprang to her feet instantly: the greatness of her guilt made confession impossible! But Botolf's long, weather-beaten face seemed to have become she could not have had the burden any great guilt upon sunken and hollow, his deeply-set eyes staringly prominent, her; for she was often joyous — nay, even full of fun. She and his whole figure monstrous; and it stood over her with was hasty and impetuous, it is true; but she was also very some strange influence that suddenly made her see him full of tender feeling and kindliness. Perhaps the guilt once more upon the ship just as she saw him on the night was some other person's, and not bers at all? Why then of the wreck; but now his strength was boundless, and it had she never told him so? If she had only done this, all was all turned against her.

would have come right. But supposing there were no “ You have been untruthful with me, Aasta."

guilt, either on her side, or on that of anybody else, how She turned away, but he followed her, and continued, - then? But she herself had said there was something she

“And you have made me untruthful, too; there has n't could never tell him. And tben how about that foreign been perfect truthfulness between us a single day ever skipper she was so afraid of? How was it? In the name since we have been together.”

of goodness, how was it? Ah, bad she been still alive, he He stood so near that she could feel his hot breath; he would still have tormented her! This thought moved him looked straight into her eyes till she felt quite giddy ; she deeply, and made him reproach and despise himself beknew not what he might the next moment say or do; and yond measure. 80 she closed her eyes. She stood as though she must Still he began again : perhaps she was not so guilty as either fall or rush away: the crisis was coming.

she herself believed; or perhaps not so guilty as others In its prelude of deep silence, Botolf himself became might have thought? How often did we do wrong quite afraid. Still, once more he began in his former strain: innocently, and only through ignorance, though so few

"Make everything clear ; make an end of all this mis- could understand that! Thus Aasta bad thought that he, erable trickery and concealment - do it here — now.” who was always full of suspicion, would not understand it.

“Yes,” she answered, but quite unconsciously — “80 1 Out of one clear, simple answer, he would have found matsay - do it here - now 1”.

ter for a hundred suspicious questions; and so she had He

cry, for she rushed past him, and Aung chosen to confide herself to death rather than to him. herself over the steep. He caught a glimpse of her golden Why could he never leave her in peace? She had fled hair, her uplifted hands, and the kerchief, which spread from the things of her past life, and sought refuge with out, slipped off, and Poated slowly down after her by itself. him; and then he, forsooth, must constantly drag them He heard no shriek, and he heard no fall into the water forward and fling them in her face! She was truly at

for it was very far down. Indeed, he was not lis- tached to him, and showed him all love and tenderness; tening; for he had cunk to the earth.

what right. had he, then, to concern himself about her past? Out from the sea she had come to him that night at And if he had any such right, why did he not say so in the first; into the sea she had now passed away again ; and beginning ? Whereas, the more her affection had grown, with her, the story of her life. In the midnight darkness the more his disquiet had grown likewise — when she, not of that silent deep, lay all that was dear to him : should merely through admiration and gratitude, but also through he not follow ? Ho had come to that place with a firm love, had become wholly bis own, then, forsooth, he must determination to make an end of the thing that tormented begin to wish to know all about wbat she had done and him: this was not the end; and now it could never come; been in days gone by. The more, too, she had pleaded for the trouble was, indeed, only now in reality beginning herself

, the worse he had thought of her, and the more be Aasta's deed cried out to him that he had made a terrible had insisted that there was something he ought to be told. mistake, and bad killed her. Even if his misery should Then, for the first time, arose the question, had he told become ten times greater, he must live on find out how

her everything? Would it really be right for husband all had happened. She, who was almost the only one and wife to tell each other everything? Would all be saved on that fearful night, had been saved only to be understood if it were told I Most certainly not. killed by him who bad saved her. He, who had gone He heard two children playing, and he looked around. voyaging and trafficking about as if the whole world were He was sitting in the green enclosure Aasta had spoken of nothing but sea and mart, had all at once become the a little while ago, but he had not been aware of it till now. victim of a love which had killed the woman of his choice, Five hours had passed : he thought it was a few minutes. and must now kill him. Was he a bad man? He had The children had most likely been playing there for long ; never heard any one say so, neither had he ever felt it but he heard them now for the first time. himself. But what if, after all, it were so ? He rose ; What I was not one of them Agnes, the clergyman's not, however, to cast himself over the steep, but to return little daughter of eight years, whom Aasta had loved even to the valley: no man kills himself just when he has found to idolatry, and who was so like her! Good Heavens! a great enigma which he wishes to solve.

how like she was! But the enigma of Aasta's life could never be solved Agnes had just set her little brother upon a great stone,

She had lived in America ever since she bad been where he had to be in school, while she was schoolmaster. grown up; and she was coming from there when the ships

Say now just what I say,” she commanded: "Our ran into each other. In what part of America should his Father." quest begin? From what part of Norway she had at first “ (u' Farver." come, he did not positively know; and he was uncertain "Who art in heaven.'' even whether her family name had not been changed since & Ebom” then. And that foreign skipper? Who could he be ? Did " • llallowed be thy name.' be know_Aasta, or was it only she who knew something of “ 'Arvid be name." bim? To question thus was like questioning the very “Thy kingdom come.'' sea; and to journey forth to investigate was like plunging

“No!" into its depths.

• Thy will be done."

below;

now.

Des.

“ No; s'an't."

He lay in terrible suffering; and the old woman thought Botolf crept away ; not, however, because the prayer at last he must be waiting to see some one. So she asked had touched him ; indeed, he had not marked that it was him whether she should send for the clergyman. He shook a prayer ; but while he looked at and listened to the chil- his head. Was there any one else he would like to see? dren, he became, in his own eyes, a horrible wild beast, To that he made no answer. The next day, while he was unfit to come near either God or man. He dragged him- | lying as usual, he distinctly pronounced the name, “ Agself behind some bushes, so that the children might not Certainly, this was not in reply to the old woman's discover him : he was more afraid of them than he had question of the day before; but she fancied it was, and she ever been of any one in all his life. He slunk off into the rose gladly, went out to her husband, and bade him harforest, far away from the high-road.

ness the borses with all speed, and drive over to the parsonWhere should be go? To the now empty house he had age to fetch Agnes. bought and furnished for Aasta ? Or should be go some- When he reached there, everybody thought there must where farther away? It mattered nothing; for wherever be some mistake, and that it was the clergy man who was be thought of going, he saw Aasta standing there. It is sent for; but the old man insisted it was the little girl. said that when folks are dying, the last object they see is She herself was indoors, and heard the message, which pictured upon their eyes; 80, too, when a man awakes to frightened her greatly; for she, among the rest, had heard consciousness after doing a wicked deed, the first object be the tales about the devil, and about the company of devils sees is pictured upon his eyes, and he can never get rid rushing up out of the sea. But she had also heard that of it. Thus, when Botolf now saw Aasta, she no longer there was some one whom the sick man was waiting to see, appeared to him as she had upon the mountain-slope so and must see before he could die; and she did not think it sport a time before, but she seemed to be a little innocent anywise strange that that one should turn out to be herself, girl — in fact, to be Agnes. Even the picture he retained whom his wife had so often fetched over to the house beof her figure while she was sinking down the steep was fore. Agnes' sisters told her, too, that one must always that of Agner, with her little hands uplifted. In whatever try to do what dying folks wish; and that if she prayed direction he turned his thoughts and remembrances of nicely to God, nothing could do her any barm. She bethe suffering woman whom he bad so suspected, they were lieved this, and let them dress her to go. met by tbis innocent child, whom he bad just heard repeat- It was a cold, clear evening, wherein she could see long ing the Lord's Prayer. In every scene of bis life with dark shadows following, and hear echoes of the barnessAasta — from the night of the shipwreck to this Sunday bells sounding far off in the forest: on the whole, she felt it morning - the child's face appeared. The thought of was rather dreadful, and she sat saying her prayers, with this mysterious transformation 80 preyed upon him, in her hands folded together inside her muff. She did not both mind and body, that in the course of a few days he see the devil anywhere, neither did she hear any company became unable to take his necessary food, and a little of devils rushing up out of the sea wbile she rode along the while after was compelled to take bis bed.

shore ; but she saw many stars above her, and light shinSoon every one could see he was approaching death. ing straight before her upon the mountain-peak. Up He whose mind is burdened by some great life-enigma around Botolf's house, all seemed dismally quiet; but the acquires a peculiar manner, through which he himself old peasant woman came out at once, and carried Agnes becomes an enigma to others

. Even from the day Botolf indoors, took off her travelling dress, and let her warm berand Aasta first came to live in that parish, his gloomy self at the fire. Meanwhile, the old woman told her she taciturnity, her beauty, and the loneliness of the life of need not be anywise afraid of the sick man, but must just both, had been the subject of frequent gossip among the go in to him with good courage, and say the Lord's Prayer neighbors; and now, when Aasta all at once disappeared, to him. Then, when Agnes had got warm, the old woman the talk increased until the most incredible things said took her hand, and led her into the sick room.

Botolf lay were the best believed. Nobody could throw any light there with long beard and hollow eyes, and he gazed at her upon the matter ; for none of all those who lived upon the intently; but she did not think he looked dreadful, and mountain-ridge, or the shore beneath, or who were accus- she was not afraid. tomed to go there, had bappened to be looking towards the “Do you forgive me ?” he whispered. steep just when Aasta flung herself over. Neither did her She supposed she ought to say “yes,” and she said corpse ever drift to land, itself to give evidence.

“yes,” accordingly. Even while Botolf was yet alive, therefore, no end Then he smiled, and tried to raise himself in the bed, of strange spiritualistic stories were told about him. He but his strength failed, and he remained lying. became dreadful to see, as he lay there with long, sunken She began at once to say the Lord's Prayer; but he face, red beard and unkempt red hair, growing tangled made a movement as though to bid her pause, and pointed together, and large eyes looking up like some dark tarn in to his breast. So she laid both her hands there; for this a deep mountain-hollow. He seemed to have no wish was what she thought he intended her to do; and he dieither to live or to die ; and so the folks said there was a rectly laid one of his clammy, ice-cold, bony hands upon fight for his soul going on between God and the devil. her little warm ones, and then closed his eyes. When she Some said they had even seen the evil one, surrounded by found he did not say anything after she had finished the fames, climb up to the windows of the dying man's prayer, she did not venture to remove her hands, but just chamber to call to him. They had seen the evil one, too, began to say it again. they said, in the form of a black dog, go sniffing round the

When she had said it for the third time, the old woman house. Others, who had rowed past, had seen the whole came in, looked, and said, place on fire ; while others, again, had heard a company of

“ You can leave off now, my dear - he's gone!" devils, shouting, barking, and laughing, come from the sea, pass slowly towards the house, enter through the closed doors, rush furiously through all the rooms, and then go

MRS. FURNESS'S CONCORDANCE.1 down once more beneath the waves, with the same awlul row as they made in coming out. Botoll's servants, men

Tuis work supplies an undoubted want, and, we arə as well as women, left immediately, and told all these tales to everybody. Ilardly any one dared even go near

happy to add, it supplies it in an admirable manner. To the place; and if an old peasant and his wife, to whom the

those who know little or nothing of Shakspearean difficulsick man bad shown some kindness, had not taken care of

ties — of the vexed and vexatious questions of authenticity him, he would bave lain utterly untended. Even this old

that beset the thorough student, or of the perpetual woman herself was in terror when she was with him; and

troubles that are connected with the great dramatist's voshe used to burn straw under his bed to keep off the evil cabulary - it may, perhaps, seem a waste of labor to have one; but though the sick man was nearly scorched up, he 1 A Concordance to Shakespeare's Poems: an Inder to every Word lher ein still kept alive.

contained. By Mrs. Horace Howard Furness. Philadelphia : Lippincott

& Co.

ures.

chronicled with all possible pains and accuracy every word Surely the most “hanging" judge in the world that occurs in his poems. The sole use that a Concordance would be lenient in such a case, and wink with the utmost serves for such persons is that it enables them to find a readiness at an occasional slip of the pen or the composiquotation. Mrs. Cowden Clarke's famous compilation is tor's fingers. valuable in their eyes on this account only; and such an

Ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis end may well seem to fail in justifying the means, seeing

Offendar maculis quas aut incuria fudit that the means involve weariness and painfulness and

Aut bumana parum cavit natura. watchings. But far other is the estimate of such productions that is made by the student. Familiar as he is with

We say that everybody would be willing to show indul. the wild assertions incessantly volunteered as to what is

gence towards such a minute register. Mrs. Cowden Shakepeare's and what is not, he is profoundly grateful for

Clarke, with all her excellence, is not independent of any help in analyzing the genuine work of the poet. The indulgence. But we must not speak as if Mrs. Furness existence of Concordances, and the judicious use of them,

stood in special need of consideration. So far as we have might have stifled half the follies of which many a critic

at present used her work, we have only found reason to be aster has been proudly guilty. And the age of criticasters astonished at the accuracy with which it is executed. is not past; perhaps, indeed, it is only now fully come.

We may just add, that by “the Poems" Mrs. Furness The effrontery of these gentry is amazing. They have

means the pieces usually printed along with Shakespeare's no bands” in their statements. Conscience never makes a Plays. Some of them are not by Shakespeare ; but Mrs. coward of them. Now against such persons what is the

Furness has done well, we think, in following the popular

attribution. Those to whom her Concordance will be antidote? How are we to disinfect ourselves and get rid of them? The unfailing antiseptic is facts. They cannot

most useful are in no danger of being misguided. away with facts. Only let facts be laid about everywhere,

We heartily thank Mrs. Furness for her work. It is a and they will soon be extirpated. For them and their

credit to herself, to her sex, and to her nation. Properly

considered, it is a most valuable contribution to true kind it is difficult to conceive a more deadly book than a Concordance. It is mere bemlock. “By my troth” they

Shakespearean study, by the side of which much of what “ cannot abide the smell of” it. The appearance, there

passes for Shakespearean lore is shown in its full worth

lessness. fore, of a companion volume to that of Mrs. Clarke is really & memorable event. The new volume is in shape uniform with the valuable

FOREIGN NOTES. “ Variorum Shakespeare” now issuing by the husband of the compiler. In point of typography there is nothing to be desired.

The author of " Guy Livingstone" is out with a new It contains a record of every word occurring in the novel. Poems, even of prepositions and conjunctions, in short, of A London firm (Cassell, Petter, and Galpin) have in every word without exception. The tabulation of the, for preparation, and will shortly publish in serial form, & cominstance, occupies no less than twenty columns.

prehensive illustrated history of the United States. "As it is impossible," runs the Preface, “to limit the

pur

A VIENNESE lady has given, as a subscription to the poscs for which the language of Shakespeare may be studied, proposed statue to Schubert, three manuscript works by or to say that the time will not come, if it has not come already, him, two psalms and a serenade, the words by Grillparzer. when his use of every part of speech, down to the humblest conjunction, will be criticised with as much nicety as has been

MR. WILLIAM BLACK, the author of “A Princess of bestowed upon Greek and Latin authors, it seems to me that

Thule," etc., is about to publish a collection of his briefer in tbe selection of words to be recorded, no discretionary powers

sketches under the title of “The Maid of Killeena, and should be granted to the 'harmless drudge' compiling a Con

Other Stories." The chief story, giving the title, is cordance. Within a year or two a German scholar has pub- Hebridean, and deals with the life of the fisher-people. lished a pamphlet of some fifty pages on Shakespeare's use of

The last number of The Saturday Review makes the the auxiliary verb to do, and Abbott's Grammar shows with following surprising statement: “We have next to notice what success the study of Shakespeare's language in its minutest particulars may be pursued. "I have, therefore, cited in the

a handsome edition of Shakespeare's • Midsummer Night's following pages every word in his Poems."

Dream,' published by Messrs. Roberts of Boston, and pro

fusely illustrated by the American artist, Mr. Konewka. Also the number of the line, not only the number of the

A PARAGRAPH in the Daily News calls attention to the poem, in which each word occurs is given, a detail which will save the explorer many a minute. In these two re

fact that the monument to Bunyan in Bunhill Fields, spects, Mrs. Furne-s's work is more exact than that of dilapidated state. The figure of Bunyan is crumbling

erected by public subscription in 1862, is already in a very Mrs. Cowden Clarke.

In one way it is less complete ; but no one will grudge the difference.

away in places, and much wanton injury has been done to

the bas-reliefs. “Having adopted,” says Mrs. Furness, “the rule of recording The “newest toy out" in Paris is the evasion trick, conevery word, I thought it needless expenditure of space to insert sisting of a little tower in colored tin ; a soldier in lead is in every instance the entire line in which a word occurs. I have given the clause in which the word stands and the number

suspended by a thread over a little boat below, and the of the line, and then, that nothing may bě wanting to the con.

ability consists in turning a bit of wire, which, sending the venience of the student, the Poems themselves are reprinted at

boat round the tower, will cause it to arrive at the moment the end. If in any case the citations appear meagre, the origi.

when the soldier drops, and so receive him. nal is instantly accessible."

SIGNOR VERDI has just obtained an injunction in the Mrs. Furness's design is most satisfactory; happily, the local court of Bonlogne to prevent the performance of bis execution is no less so. Of course it is improbable that

“ Messe” without orchestral accompaniments. The conthere are not some few errors both of omission and com- ductor proposed to give the Mass with an accompaniment mission. Mrs. Furness is as conscious of this possibility

of four pianos, to which the composer strongly objected, as her “ dearest foe” — only there cannot be any such and, finding remonstrances useless, took legal proceedings.] monster - could be. “ As the pages are stereotyped,' An endeavor is now being made to have some of the she writes, “ corrections can be made at any time of mis- London music halls opened on Sundays for the performprints, against which it seems no human vigilance can ance of concerts of sacred music, in pursuance of the sugguard, and I shall be grateful to the kindness that will gestion of the National Sunday League, an association notify me of them." It would, indeed, be a marvel if every formed for the purpose of introducing into England what is entry was faultless, or if no claimant for enrolment had known as a “Continental Sunday.” The same society been overlooked; for there are some 33,000 entries, each bave originated the movement for the opening of museums one consisting of several words, and from one to five fig- on Sundays.

Rossini had a favorite provision merchant. One day named Giuseppe Ricci, who certainly seems to have taken the latter rather bashfully said to Rossini, " I have for a rather a long constitutional. Having come some months long time wanted to ask you a favor.” “ Name it,” said ago from Alexandria to Constantinople in search of ern. the maestro. “ It is,” replied the merchant, “that you will ployment, but being unsuccessful in his object, Ricci give me your photograph, with a few words under it.” resolved to return to Alexandria. A slight difficulty, how. Willingly," responded Rossini, and he took a photograph ever, arose at the very commencement of his journey, from his pocket-book, and wrote under it, “ To the friend owing to the fact of his having no money, - a serious of my stomach."

drawback to a bona fide traveller, for, notwithstanding

the “ wretched impotence of gold," it is uncommonly A STRASBOURG paper complains of the production of ar- difficult to travel comfortably without it. Ricci at first tificial wine at Kebl, where there is a large establishment

tried to work his passage back in a steamer or ship, but much patronized by Strasbourg wine-merchants, into which

failing also in this endeavor he set his face resolutely a grape has never entered. This colored and sweetened southwards, and determined to work or beg his way to Rhine water is recognized by the Excise as grape wine. Egypt. He accordingly started off" with a light heart In the Rheingau and the Palatinate there are hundreds of and a thin pair of breeches," and after marching for 158 similar establishments. The Rhenish and Alsacian wine

days across the peninsula of Asia Minor, and along the growers intend to urge the (Reichstag to pass a stringent

coasts of Syria and Palestine, be arrived in safety at Alexlaw against the falsification of wine and other drinks.; andria, where, by latest accounts, he was enjoying the

repose he was justly entitled to after his fatiguing walk. A man named Justin has just died at Bicêtre, whose lunacy had a very singular origin. He was an exhibitor

A Hiatus in a theatrical placard caused by an overof waxwork figures, and one of his models was the figure

sight or a practical joke has lately mystified the public of of a young girl, remarkable for her graceful form and per

Bordeaux." The talented actress Mile. Paola Marié has fect features, her hair falling in long curls over her naked been delighting play-goers in that city ; but as the time of shoulders. Justin showed a latent insanity long before his

her sojourn on the banks of the Garonne drew to a close, mind actually gave way, for he fell passionately

, in love

the manager of the Théâtre Français posted up a notice with his waxen Galatea, and would contemplate her in si- stating that the engagement of Mlle. Paola Marié expiring lent admiration for bours. His wife could not be expected on Friday next, the “ Périchole" would be played but to take the matter with such indifference, but her remon

four times more. The words “ the engagement of " did strances only infuriated him. One day she could stand it not, however, appear on the placard, which therefore bore no longer, and she gave to the wax beauty sundry blows

the sinister announcement that, Mlle. Paola Marié expirwith a broomstick. The enraged husband then tried to

ing on Friday next, the “ Périchole” would be played but

four times more. kill his wife, but neighbors interfered, and saved her from

The faithful admirers who bastened to his violence. Deprived of his treasure, he went mad, and

pay their last homage to the popular actress and to witness sojourned at Bicêtre five years. To the last, it is said, the

these four positively the last " performances sought in vision of bis inanimate charmer was before him.

vain, it seems, for any symptom, in the countenance and

manner of their favorite, of a state of health justifying so The details of a case of poisoning reported from Wait- serious a reason for the cessation of her performance of the zen by the Spenersche Zeitung recall these refinements of part of Offenbach's lively heroine. They took care, howmurderous science. The daughter of a physician in that ever, in spite of many favorable signs, to keep on the safe place fell dead in her father's room, and it was ascertained side by showering down in the shape of bouquets as many that she had died from poison. She had a suitor whose “sweets to the sweet” as graced the fair Ophelia's courtship was not regarded by her parents with a favora- funeral. ble eye, and she was, after a time, induced to contemplate

A CORRESPONDENT of the Times bas written a singularly marriage with another. The wedding was to take place

interesting account of what may fairly be called the disinin a week, when she took a walk with her former lover, at

terment of the Coliseum, now proceeding under the directhe end of which he left her at her own door, and then

tion of Signor Rosa; and the picture which it presents of went down to his father's country place. He there con

the engineering ingenuity, as well as architectural splendor, fessed that he had placed a strong poison, the smell of which the Romans devoted to their truculent sports is which alone will kill, in the pocket of his beloved, knowing rather awful. The excavations have now laid bare part of that as soon as she lifted her handkerchief to her face a

the Arena, which is proved to have been a solid floor, fatal result would follow. It appears from the event that

paved with herring-bone work, and not a movable plathe had not miscalculated the powers of the drug, the nat

form. Upon the arena converged a number of large, tunure of which has not yet transpired.

nel-shaped corridors, having a series of lateral chambers, The Rappel states that MM. Monduit Béchet et Cie.,

vast enough to accommodate scores of animals, and with who were charged with the restoration of the Colonne an adjustment of gates such that, without danger to the Vendôme, have nearly completed their difficult work, and

keepers, even the hundred lions, recorded by Vopiscus as that the column will probably be set up again in the course

having bounded on its floor together, might be admitted to of the autumn. The Vendôme Column was not erected

the view of the 87,000 lords of creation in the Amphitheaaccording to the original idea of Napoleon I. The first de

tre. A magnificent corridor, not yet perfectly cleared, but cree for its erection is dated October 1, 1803, and is signed having evidently no lateral galleries,

doubtless represents by the First Consul. By this decree we find that the de

the passage through which the gladiator emerged to his sign for the column was to be similar to that of Trajan at

duel and the martyr to his cross. Through it, too, it would Rome, that it was to be ornamented with 108 bronze figures

seem, were removed the slaughtered corpses and carcasses, representing the departments of the Republic, and sur.

while the applause of the audience and the bellowing of the mounted by a pedestal adorned with olive leaves, on the

other beasts waiting for their gates to swing round must

have made terrible harmonies. top of which a statue of Charlemagne, the representative monarch of France, was to be placed. But all this was The Moniteur de l'Armeé calls attention to the fact that changed after the great victories of 1806. The column the sword of the late Latour d'Auvergne,“ premier Grenawas then consecrated to the glory of the “ Grande Armée," dier de la France,” has been left by his nephew, lately and was cast from 1200 cannon taken from the enemy, Na- deceased, to Garibaldi; and the French military journal poleon I. taking the place of Charlemagne. He first ap- expresses a hope that some_means may be taken for prepeared in clasɛical costume, but before long the well-known venting its departure from France, so that it may remain figure of “ Le petit Caporal ” was set up.

as an heirloom in the country, if not in the family, of the

illustrious private. Latour d'Auvergne was killed just A REMARKABLE pedestrian feat bas, according to the seventy-four years ago, at Oberhausen; and the curious Finanza of Alexandria, been lately performed by an Italian and somewhat melodramatic practice was thereupon

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