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What of that? We didn't make Euryalus a young gentleman ; it's no fault of ours. Look here: to make the cases tally and dovetail, there must be a man and a woman in both. Very well, then ; we bring our man and our woman ; if Virgil does not bring his, whose fault is that, you know? But this shews what comes of meddling with criticism, when people “ should engross." We shake off the dust of our feet against the attorney, and we return to the young cornet and his enemy. Happier in this point than Nisus and Euryalus, they were detected by no Volscens; they arrived happily under the window ; Mr. Ferdinand applied the ladder-steadied it, and prepared to hold it. From what womanly scruples it is not for us to say, but so it was, that upon this last service of the cornet's-however respectfully tendered, Miss Fanny laid her interdict. On some occasions the gentlest of young women are peremptory; and, after vainly remonstrating, Mr. Ferdinand retired to a distance, and Miss Fanny began her ascent.

Meanwhile, old Mule was roaming about in unspeakable agitation, at the thought of being left alone in the house; much also he suffered from disinterested fear at the thoughts of Miss Fanny's death; much also from selfish fear, on considering that he had thereby added another ghost to his list; and that (God knows!) was not at all necessary. Just at this moment, he came to his library window, and flung it up to see if the party were returning from Nelly's. Ah! Mule ! ah! persecuted Mule ! ?!?! (to borrow the voice of Greek Tragedy) ÓTOTOTOTÕ! !* There stood the bust of Miss Fanny, resting (as it seemed) in mid air, looking in at Mr. Mule, and manifestly meditating an eruption into Mr. Mule's premises. Mule absolutely brayed and whinnied at this insufferable fright: he shyed, threw up his heels, curvetted, plunged, and finally bolted at full stretch out of the room. Miss Fanny was startled at this mode of reception ; but what was to be done? In she must; and let us tell her, that if she frightens other people in this way, she must expect to be frightened in her turn: and so it was that, as she was getting in at the window, her face naturally turned round to the latter ; on which (, š, č, č, ! ÓTOTOTOTől! Tani!), occupying her own recent station, and presenting his bust precisely as she had presented hers to Mr. Mule, stood a man, who popped this question to her—“ Who the devil are you "Miss Fanny staid not upon any scruples of form, but pirouetted and fled like a fawn after old Mule.' Mule heard the

* Some purists in Grecian ejaculation pretend to patronize the trisyllabic form Ótoto, which is dear a shabby concern. Besides, as the learned Bishop of Chints, if Aristophanes may discharge his five-barrelled FOTOT0F0F6, upon us [in which there are four pops and an oi] why may not Tragedy reply with as many guns ?

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ghost in pursuit of him, and began to plunge again, and never ceased plunging until he plunged into the cellar; and there finding an empty sack, he jumped in, pulled it up about him like a pillow-case about a pillow, ducked over-head, and prayed devoutly that his pursuer might prove to be some Johnny Raw of a ghost that would be hoaxed into taking him for a sack of mealy potatoes: whilst the innocent cause of his terror, poor “ Fan-Fan,” trembling and palpitating, like a hunted hare, finally recovered her own form in bed,

Poor throbbing “Fan-Fan!" we must pity thee, at the same time that we cannot help laughing a little. If « Fan-Fan” had frightened other people, was that any reason why a brute of a fellow should frighten her so confoundedly with his horrid66 Who the devil are you ?" No, surely: and a just judgment it

this brute-that, as he turned round with his face to the ladder, he saw (é, , , š, é, & ! ÓTOTOTOTÕL TEÓTOL!) another fellow, standing just where he had stood on the ladder, who forthwith popped his own question to him-“ Who the devil are you?" To which, however, he replied, not by plunging like a mule, or running like a fawn, but simply by retorting—“ Why, if you come to that, who the devil are you ?"

Well, here are questions as plenty as blackberries: now let us have some answers.

I am,” said the man on the ladder, 6 Mr. Ferdinand Lawler."

“ Ah! Mr. Ferdinand, how do you do?” said the man within: “ for my part, I am Slippery Dick."

“ So! and how came you here, Mr. Dick ?”

“ Why, the truth is, sir, Nelly had just hoaxed us all with a cock-and-a-bull story of two thieves she pretended to have caught. A mere swindling trick, Mr. Ferdinand ! I protest I respect the woman highly; for she swindled us all. I never thought she had so much talent. However, it's not pleasant to be bilked of one's sport ; and so I wasn't sorry that, as I came away from Nelly's, I started some game for myself. Up this very ladder I saw a young boy in white trowsers mounting as fast as ever his legs could carry him; and, says I to myself— That's a thief: l'i after him.?:?

“ So! well now, that's just my case with regard to you, Dick, for I saw you mounting the ladder, and said I to myself• that's a thief ; I'll go after him.' And, by the way, Dick, I think I was not so far out in my notion as you were in yours ; for

your thief in white trowsers was Miss Fanny Blumauer in white petticoats."

Dick was a wit, and he took all such things in good part: wits, he knew, must give and take; go he contented himself with re

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plying—that he believed Miss Fanny and he played their cards pretty much alike ; if he once stole" diamonds, she stole hearts every day of her life. And thus sparring, the two thief-takers descended the ladder together.

At the foot of it, the cornet asked Dick if any thing could be done to repair the mischief of this night: did he think matters desperate ?

Desperate !” said Dick, “ they never were in better train; leave Mr. Mule to me, sir, I'll ‘hoax him ; precisely in nine minutes from this time I'll have him well hoaxed."

VIII.--FINALE.

Dick went in search of Mr. Mule: not finding him above stairs, he knew whereabouts Mr. Mule must be; though not in what precise corner, or what precise sack. Seeing one, however, more corpulent than the rest, he determined to satisfy his own doubts, whether this were a sack of mealy potatoes, by turning it upside down and shooting out the contents. As, however, he necessarily satisfied Mr. Mule at the same time that he himself was neither that ghost, nor that Johnny Raw he was looking for, that gentleman thankfully pocketed the affront.

In this piece of impertinence, which was the mere gratuitous overflow of Dick’s infamous love of fun, he lost precisely one minute and a half, so that he had but seven minutes and a half for his main villainy; which, however, he accomplished within the time, without at”all distressing himself, and had threequarters of a minute to spare.

He briefly revealed to Mr. Mule that Miss Fanny was a Somnambulist ; this master-key unlocked all the mysteries of the night. She had walked out of her chamber-window, mounted the garden-wall, two coach-houses, three stables, six dwellinghouses, two churches, and was on the point of scaling the churchsteeple

“ You don't say so?" “ I do; I saw her scaling the church-steeple, when Mr. Lawler, thinking she might sprain her ancle in coming down, went up with a ladder-brought her down—and with the same ladder put her into the library-window."

“ This must be kept secret,” said Mr. Mule.

“ It must, sir; it's no recommendation to a wife. Amongst Miss Fanny's many excellent qualifications for that character, somnambulism will never be counted one. I know it by myself ; I should not like a wife myself, that got up from my side of nights to walk up the church-steeple. Mr. Lawler must be thanked.

“ He must, sir.” For both purposes Mr. Lawler was sent for.

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That gentleman did not clearly understand for what Mr. Mule was thanking him; but as it procured him a footing in the family, a large share of Mr. Mule's favour, and, finally, the hand of his lovely sylph ;-he asked no questions, but was thankful that in any way

he had overcome the mulishness of Mr. Mule. In conclusion, we add the following as the latest intelligence we have received, on the present condition of our principal characters.

Mr. Mule, now that he is supported by the close proximity of the arm of flesh in the person of a young officer, makes a stouter resistance than heretofore to the world of ghosts; though he still occasionally retreats to Mr. Addison's “ post of honour."

Mrs. Tabitha, it gives us pleasure to say, continues to display a very superior description of virtue in all her-dreams: night after night she sets the vile Turk at defiance; shews him clearly that she sees through all his designs upon her virtue; and some times goes the length of scratching his whiskers.

The young Mrs. Lawler is so thoroughly cured of her somnambulism, that she has never, since that first attack, got as far even as the garden wall on her road to the church-steeple.

Mr. Ferdinand continues to make the most shocking discoveries throughout Mr. Mule's library respecting his own youthful atrocities. Every book, on its blank pages, exhibits so many memoranda of his offences [all beginning— Furcifer iste Ferdinandus Lawler"], that his own hair stands on end with wonder that Mr. M. did not live to see him hanged.

Finally, for our main hero-wicked Dick, witty Dick, dear Dick, Sixteen-string Dick, Slippery Dick,-in his old age he has forsaken all sorts of downright rogueries. But, as the doctors think that his health suffers by such severe abstinence from stimu lants, they advise him to hoax—as a pleasant and wholesome substitute for knavery. Hoaxing, therefore, he now practises in all its branches: and he has recently sent us a most excellent hoax with which we design to hoax all our dear brother contri butors to the QUARTERLY MAGAZINE.

[The basis of this story is to be found in the Seifenblasen' of Dr Schulz: Tübingen, 1810).

VOL. III. PART II.

2 H

A DAY AT MILAN.

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“ You may as well take the caleche to yourself, it is but two Napoleons difference," said the shrewd rogue of a Genevese voiturier, “ allow me to give the arrhes.”—“ Oh no,” said I, “ you have promised me a companion, un homme comme il faut, and I should rather pay for having than for dispensing with company."

I was heartily tired of Geneva, where the atmosphere of society is as blue as the waters of their lake

Divinely, brightly, beautifully blue.” The old people know every thing, the young people each something, and even the misses are deep in one ology or another. You are nothing at Geneva if not scientific, and if ignorant of botany are a very dull fellow indeed. I thought nightly of my own sweet, unpragmatical countrywomen, and sought a traveller's ever-ready remedy in a caleche for Bex.

The bright, blue morning came, and although it was an August one, the wind from Mont-Blanc and the Savoy Alps was any thing but warm. The promised homme comme il faut was a great man, it seemed, and kept me waiting : his passports were at the office, the clerks thereof in bed, and to bring them together, in order that he might set off, was the difficulty. He was a Monsieur Diplomatique, however, a Frenchman not to be trifled with, and the town was to be waked to expedite the unlucky passport. Meantime, expectant, I shrunk into the back of the caleche, and the folds of my good blue mantle, listening to the “ loud rushing of the arrowy Rhone,” its murmurs not now, as at noontide, accompanied by the plash of busy washerwomen, the rattle of char-a-bancs, and the everlasting click of the thousand little hammers of this watch-making city.

Lo! my gentleman with his bow and excuse, sorry to have delayed me, very, nay, exceeding sorry, “Du tout, Monsieur." His air distingué bespoke that most rare being, which the continent can boast of, a young Frenchman of the old school, and, as I afterwards found, as ignorant and as elegant as any of the by-gone race he represented. On we rolled. I was for some time too much occupied by that most lovely of scenes to think of conversation; in truth, the cup

of sentiment must have time to fill, ere one can have the wish to communicate any of its overflowings to the ear of a companion. But we approached Coppet, and there, thought I, is a name connected with this village, which can scarce fail to rouse and interest my fellow-traveller. I reckoned without mine host-pointed, hinted, asked questions, mentioned the name of Necker, of De Stael, in vain : my gentleman was

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