Mrs. B. Cooke! But there are so many Cookes--Can't u distinguish her any way? Has she no Christian name? Mr. B. Emma, I think-Yes, Emma.

Mrs. B. Emma Cooke !-No;-it cannot be my friend nma Cooke ; for I am sure she was cut out for an old maid. Mr. B. This lady seems to me to be cut out for a good wife. Mrs. B. May be so— -I am sure I'll never go to see her. ay, my dear, how came you to see so much of her? Mr. B. I have seen very little of her, my dear. I only w her two or three times before she was married.

Mrs. B. Then, my dear, how could you decide that she as cut out for a good wife? I am sure you could not judge her by seeing her only two or three times, and before she as married.

Mr. B.

Indeed, my love, that is a very just observation. Mrs. B. I understand that compliment perfectly, and ank you for it, my dear. I must own I can bear any thing etter than irony.

Mr. B. Irony! my dear, I was perfectly in earnest.

Mrs. B. Yes, yes; in earnestt-so I perceive-I may aturally be dull of apprehension, but my feelings are quick nough; I comprehend you too well. Yes it is impossible judge of a woman before marriage, or to guess what sort a wife she will make. I presume you speak from experince; you have been disappointed yourself, and repent your oice.

Mr. B. My dear, what did I say that was like this? Upon y word, I meant no such thing. I really was not thinking you in the least.

Mrs. B. No-you never think of me now. I can easily elieve that you were not thinking of me in the least.

Mr. B. But I said that, only to prove to you that I could ot be thinking ill of you, my dear.

Mrs. B. But I would rather that you thought ill of me, an that you did not think of me at all.

Mr. B. Well, my dear, I will even think ill of you, if at will please you.

Mrs. B. Do you laugh at me? When it comes to this, I m wretched indeed. Never man laughed at the woman he ved. As long as you had the slightest remains of love for

ould not make me an object of derision: ridicule are incompatible; absolutely incompatible. Well, ne my best, my very best, to make you happy, but I see I am not cut out to be a good wife. Happy, s. Granby!

Happy, I hope sincerely, that she will be with ; but my happiness must depend on you, my love; y sake, if not for your own, be composed, and do nt yourself with such fancies.

. I do wonder whether this Mrs. Granby is really Emma Cooke. I'll go and see her directly; see

t.

I am heartily glad of it, my dear; for I am sure his wife will give my friend Granby real pleasure. . I promise you, my dear, I do not go to give him or you either; but to satisfy my own-curiosity.

LESSON CVIII.

The Burning of Moscow.-LABAUME.

fifteenth of September, 1812, our corps left the ere it had encamped, at an early hour, and marched v. As we approached the city, we saw that it had and that a simple parapet of earth was the only ach constituted the outer enclosure. Nothing indithe town was inhabited; and the road by which was so deserted, that we saw neither Russian nor -ldiers. No cry, no noise was heard in the midst ful solitude. We pursued our march, a prey to the xiety; and that anxiety was redoubled, when we a thick smoke, which arose, in the form of a coln the centre of the town.

following morning, the most heart-rending scene, imagination had ever conceived, far surpassing the ory in ancient or modern history, presented itself A great part of the population of Moscow, tour arrival, had concealed themselves in cellars or

es.

cret recesses of their houses. As the fire spread around, e saw them rushing in despair from their various asylums. hey uttered no imprecation; they breathed no complaint: ar had rendered them dumb: and hastily snatching up eir most precious effects, they fled before the flames. Others, of greater sensibility, and actuated by the genuine elings of nature, saved only their parents, or their infants, ho were closely clasped in their arms. They were followed w their other children, running as fast as their little strength ould permit, and, with all the wildness of childish terror, ciferating the beloved name of mother. The old people, orne down by grief more than by age, had not sufficient ower to follow their families, and expired near the houses in hich they were born. The streets, the public places, and articularly the churches, were filled with these unhappy cople, who, lying on the remains of their property, suffered en without a murmur. No cry, no complaint was heard. oth the conqueror and the conquered were equally harden1; the one by excess of fortune, the other by excess of isery.

The fire, whose ravages could not be restrained, soon ached the finest parts of the city. Those palaces, which e had admired for the beauty of their architecture, and the egance of their furniture, were enveloped in the flames. heir magnificent fronts, ornamented with bass-reliefs and atues, fell, with a dreadful crash, on the fragments of the pilrs which had supported them. The churches, though covered th iron and lead, were likewise destroyed, and with them ose beautiful steeples, which we had seen, the night before, splendent with gold and silver. The hospitals, too, which ntained more than twelve thousand wounded, soon began burn. This offered a dreadful and harrowing spectacle. most all these poor wretches perished. A few, who still gered, were seen crawling, half burnt, amongst the smoking ins; and others, groaning under heaps of dead bodies, deavored, in vain, to extricate themselves from the horrible struction which surrounded them.

How shall I describe the confusion and tumult, when perssion was granted to pillage this immense city! Soldiers, tlers and galley-slaves eagerly ran through the streets,

g into the deserted palaces, and carrying away g which could gratify their avarice. Some covered with stuffs richly worked with gold and silks; enveloped in beautiful and costly furs; and even slaves concealed their rags under the most splenof the court. The rest crowded into the cellars, ig open the doors, drank to excess the most luscious I carried off an immense booty.

orrible pillage was not confined to the deserted ne, but extended to those which were inhabited; the eagerness and wantonness of the plunderers vastations, which almost equalled those occasioned nflagration. Every asylum was violated by the troops. They who had officers in their houses hemselves that they should escape the general caain illusion! The advancing fire soon destroyed all

S.

Is evening, when Napoleon no longer thought himn the city, the ruin of which seemed inevitable, he remlin, and established himself with his suite in of Peterskoë. When I saw him pass by, I could 1 without abhorrence the chief of a barbarous exwho evidently endeavored to escape the decided of public indignation, by seeking the darkest road. tit, however, in vain. On every side, the flames pursue him; and their horrible and mournful glare, on his guilty head, reminded me of the torches of es pursuing the destined victims of the Furies. enerals, likewise, received orders to quit Moscow. sness then became unbounded. The soldiers, no strained by the presence of their chiefs, committed d of excess. No retreat was safe, no place sufsacred to afford protection against their rapacity. more fully excited their avarice than the church of ael, the sepulchre of the Russian emperors. tradition had propagated the belief that it containase riches. Some grenadiers presently entered it, ended with torches into the vast subterranean vaults, the peace and silence of the tombs. But instead res, they found only stone coffins, covered with pink

An

elvet, and bearing thin silver plates, on which were enraved the names of the czars, and the dates of their birth nd decease.

With all the excesses of plunder, they mingled the most egrading and horrible debauchery. Neither nobility of lood, nor the innocence of youth, nor the tears of beauty, ere respected. The licentiousness was cruel and boundless; ut it was inevitable in a savage war, in which sixteen differnt nations, opposite in their manners and their language, hought themselves at liberty to commit every crime.

LESSON CIX.

The same, concluded.

PENETRATED by so many calamities, I hoped that the hades of night would cast a veil over the dreadful scene; ut they contributed, on the contrary, to render the conflaration more terrible. The violence of the flames, which xtended from north to south, and were strangely agitated by he wind, produced the most awful appearance on a sky hich was darkened by the thickest smoke. Frequently was een the glare of the burning torches, which the incendiaries ere hurling, from the tops of the highest towers, on those arts of the city which had yet escaped destruction, and hich resembled, at a distance, so many passing meteors. Nothing could equal the anguish which absorbed every =eling heart, and which was increased, in the dead of the ight, by the cries of the miserable victims who were savagemurdered, or by the screams of the young females, who ed for protection to their weeping mothers. To these readful groans and heart-rending cries, which every moent broke upon the ear, were added the howlings of the ogs, which, chained to the doors of the palaces, according the custom at Moscow, could not escape from the fire hich surrounded them.

Overpowered with regret and with terror, I flattered myelf that sleep would for a while release me from these