spatch which had fallen out of the pocket of Von Hoax: this, he was at first surprised to discover, was nothing but a sheet of blank paper. However, on recollecting himself, "No doubt," said he, " in times of rebellion ink is not safe: no doubt some important intelligence is concealed in this sheet of white paper, which some mysterious chemical preparation must reveal." So saying, he sealed up the despatch, sent it off by an estafette, and charged it in a supplementary note of expenses to the council.

Meantime the newspapers arrived from the capital, but they said not a word of the rebellion; in fact, they were more than usually dull, not containing even a lie of much interest. All this, however, the commissioner ascribed to the prudential policy which their own safety dictated to the editors in times of rebellion; and the longer the silence lasted so much the more critical (it was inferred) must be the state of affairs; and so much the more prodigious that accumulating arrear of great events which any decisive blow would open upon them. At length, when the general patience began to give way, a newspaper arrived, which, under the head of domestic intelligence, communicated the following anecdote:

"A curious hoax has been played off on a certain loyal and ancient borough-town not a hundred miles from the little river P―. On the accession of our present gracious prince, and before his person was generally known to his subjects, a wager of large amount was laid by a certain Mr Von Holster, who had been a gentleman of the bed-chamber to his late highness, that he would succeed in passing himself off upon the whole town and corporation in question for the new sovereign. Having paved the way for his own success by a previous communication through a clerk in the house of W- & Co., he departed on his errand, attended by an agent for the parties who betted against him. This agent bore the name of Von Hoax; and, by his report, the wager has been adjudged to Von Holster as brilliantly won. Thus far all was well; what follows, however, is still better. Some time ago a young lady of large fortune, and still larger expectations, on a visit to the capital, had met with Mr Von H., and had clandestinely formed an acquaintance which had ripened into a strong attachment. The gentleman, however, had no fortune, or none which corresponded to the expectations of the lady's family. Under these circumstances, the lady (despairing in any other way of obtaining her father's consent) agreed, that in connexion with his scheme for winning the wager, he should attempt another, more interesting to them both: in pursuance of which arrangement, he contrived to fix himself under his princely incognito at the very house of Mr Commissioner P., the father of his mistress; and the result is, that he has actually married her with the entire approbation of

"

her friends. Whether the sequel of the affair will correspond with its success hitherto, remains, however, to be seen. Certain it is, that for the present, until the prince's pleasure can be taken, Mr Von Holster has been committed to prison under the new law for abolishing bets of a certain description, and also for having presumed to personate the sovereign."

Thus far the newspaper:-however, in a few days, all clouds hanging over the prospects of the young couple cleared away. Mr Von Holster, in a dutiful petition to the prince, declared that he had not personated his serene highness. On the contrary, he had given himself out both before and after his entry into the town for no more than the Count Fitz-Hum; and it was they, the good people of that town, who had insisted on mistaking him for a prince; if they would kiss his hand, was it for him, an humble individual of no pretensions, arrogantly to refuse? If they would make addresses to him, was it for an inconsiderable person like himself rudely to refuse to listen or to answer, when the greatest kings (as was notorious) always attended and replied in the most gracious terms? On further inquiry, the whole circumstances were detailed to the prince, and amused him greatly; but, when the narrator came to the final article of the "rebellion," (under which sounding title a friend of Von Holster's had communicated to him a general plot among his creditors for seizing his person,) the good-natured prince laughed so immoderately, that it was easy to see that no very severe punishment would follow. In fact, by his services to the late prince, Von H. had established some claims upon the gratitude of this, an acknowledgment which the prince generously made at this seasonable crisis. Such an acknowledgment from such a quarter, together with some other marks of favour to Von H., could not fail to pacify the "rebels" against that gentleman, and to reconcile Mr Commissioner Pig to a marriage which he had already once approved of. His scruples had originally been vanquished in the wine-cellar, and there also it was, that upon hearing of the total extinction of the "rebellion," he drowned all scruples for a second time.

The town of has, however, still occasion to remember the blue landau, and the superb whiskers, from the jokes which they are now and then called on to parry upon that subject. Doctor B—, in particular, the physician of that town, having originally offered 100 dollars to the man who should notify to him his appointment to the place of court physician, has been obliged solemnly to advertise in the gazette for the information of the wits in the capital, "that he will not consider himself bound to that promise; seeing that every week he receives so many private notifications of that appointment, that it would quite beggar him to pay for them at that

rate." With respect to the various petitioners, the bakers, the glaziers, the hair-dressers, &c., they all maintain, that though FitzHum may have been a spurious prince, yet, undoubtedly the man had so much sense and political discernment, that he well deserved to have been a true one. Knight's Mag.

THE CAMERONIAN BANNER.

O BANNER! fair banner! a century of woe

Has flowed on thy people since thou wert laid low :
Hewn down by the godless, and sullied and shorn,

Defiled with base blood, and all trodden and torn!

Thou wert lost, and John Balfour's bright steel-blade in vain
Shed their best blood as fast as moist April sheds rain-
Young, fierce, gallant Hackstoun, the river in flood

Sent rejoicing to sea with a tribute of blood;

Fair banner! 'gainst thee bloody Claver'se came hewing
His road through our helms, and our glory subduing;
And Nithsdale Dalzell-his fierce deeds to requite,
On his house darkest ruin descended like night-
Came spurring and full on the lap of our war,
Disastrous shot down like an ominous star.

And Allan Dalzell-may his name to all time

Stand accurs'd, and be named with nought nobler than rhyme
Smote thee down, thou fair banner, all rudely, and left

Thee defiled, and the skull of the bannerman cleft.

Fair banner, fair banner! a century of woe

Has flowed on thy people since thou wert laid low.
And now, lovely banner! led captive and placed
'Mid the spoils of the scoffer, and scorned and disgraced,
And hung with the helm and the glaive on the wall,

'Mongst idolatrous figures to wave in the hall,

Where the lips, wet with wine, jested with thee profane,

And the minstrel, more graceless, mixed thee with his strain,

Till the might and the pride of thy conqueror fell,

And the owl sat and whoop'd in the halls of Dalzell.

O thou holy banner! in weeping and wail
Let me mourn thy soiled glory, and finish my tale.
And yet, lovely banner! thus torn from the brave,
And disgraced by the graceless, and sold by the slave,
And hung o'er a hostel, where rich ruddy wine,
And the soul-cheering beverage of barley divine,
Floated glorious, and sent such a smoke-in his flight
The lark stayed in air, and sung, drunk with delight.
Does this lessen thy lustre? or tarnish thy glory?
Diminish thy fame, and traduce thee in story?
Oh, no, beauteous banner! loosed free on the beam,
By the hand of the chosen, long, long shalt thou stream!
And the damsel dark-eyed, and the covenant swain,
Shall bless thee, and talk of dread Bothwell again.

ALLAN CUNNING!! M.

THE DEMON MUSICIAN.*

"And a magic voice and verse
Hath baptized thee with a curse ;
And a spirit of the air

Hath begirt thee with a snare;
In the wind there is a voice
Shall forbid thee to rejoice;
And to thee shall night deny
All the quiet of her sky;

And the day shall have a sun.

Which shall make thee wish it done."-EYRON.

ON a calm evening, in the spring of the year 18-, a group of peasants were enjoying themselves in a vineyard on the border of the Black Forest. The toils of the day being over, they had assembled to celebrate the marriage of two young villagers who had long been attached, and were now united. The girl was a sparkling brunette, full of life and gayety; the youth, more sedate, somewhat retired in habits, a great lover of music, and universally considered a most skilful performer. He was an orphan, and derived his chief support from his violin, with which he was wont every night to entertain his neighbours, who, in return, stored his cottage with voluntary contributions; and many of the damsels envied Madeline for her good fortune in winning such a handsome young husband as Ursenstein, the musician.

At a small distance from the rest sat the bridegroom and his bride; it might have been thought that they had thus withdrawn to indulge in their new-licensed love, but it was not so; for though the eyes of the girl were fixed tenderly upon his countenance, he met not their fond expression. He was looking earnestly through the bushes, and listening eagerly for some distant sound. The bride watched him for a time in silence, content with her untold happiness. She was thinking that he was now irrevocably her own, her very own, and that one idea was too exquisite to need the aid of language; but as his abstraction continued unbroken, his every sense seemingly concentrated upon some unseen object, Madeline began to feel that she was neglected, and timidly inquired what attracted his attention. The bridegroom answered not, but he held his head nearer to the ground, and drew in his breath that he might listen more intently. Madeline put up her pretty red lip poutingly, and pulled, with a sudden twitch, a coral blossom from the loaded branches that drooped around her; then, with the tenacity of feminine pride, she stole a cautious glance towards her young friends, as though she

* From The Royal Lady's Magazine.'