phistopheles. He goes farther than all the rest, and the first lesson which he teaches us, is, that our grandmothers were all liars-that they have taught us falsehood and folly. That what they told of spirits walking beside us, is not true-that the little green-coated fairies are not in the hill-side hollows-that the sun is no journeyer by day, and, like a wearied traveller, does not lie down at night in the far forests, to repose-that the rainbow is not the sweet promise of mercy from the perpetual Sire——that the stars are not born with us, and have no control over our destinies-and, more than all, that the winds at dusk do not bring us sweet messages from the friends whom death has carried away into other countries. These beliefs, forming a sweet faith, and taught us by our fathers, this demon, whom they call Science, irreverently denies. He would teach us other things, more congenial with the cold malignity of that dark influence whose cruel agent he is. But though these lessons have deceived and made wretched our people, they deceive not me! I will not hear to this demon-I will believe in our fathers, and I will not believe in these books. Ah, would that Marian Clifford were only of my way of thinking ! "

ZIITO, THE SORCERER.

VERY extraordinary things are related of Ziito, a sorcerer, in the court of Wenceslaus, king of Bohemia, and afterwards emperor of Germany, in the latter part of the fourteenth century. This is, perhaps, all things considered, the most wonderful specimen of magical power any where to be found. It is gravely recorded by Dubravius, bishop of Olmutz, in his history of Bohemia. It was publicly exhibited on occasion of the marriage of Wenceslaus with Sophia, daughter of the elector Palatine of Bavaria, before a vast assembled multitude.

The father-in-law of the king, well aware of the bridegroom's known predilection for theatrical exhibitions and magical illusions, brought with him to Prague, the capital of Wenceslaus, a whole wagon-load of morrice-dancers and jugglers, who made their appearance among the royal retinue. Meanwhile Ziito, the favourite magician of the king, took his place obscurely among the ordinary spectators. He, however, immediately arrested the attention of the strangers, being remarked for his extraordinary deformity, and a mouth that stretched completely from ear to ear.

Ziito was for some time engaged in observing the tricks and sleights that were exhibited. At length, while the chief magician of the elector Palatine was still busily employed in shewing some of the most admired specimens of his art, the Bohemian, indignant at what appeared to him the bungling exhibitions of his brother-artist, came forward, and reproached him with the unskilfulness of his performances. The two professors presently fell into warm debate. Ziito, provoked at the insolence of his rival, made no more ado but swallowed him whole before the multitude, attired as he was, all but his shoes, which he objected to because they were dirty. He then retired for a short while to a closet, and presently returned, leading the magician along with him.

Having thus disposed of his rival, Ziito proceeded to exhibit the wonders of his art. He shewed himself first in his proper shape, and then in those of different persons successively, with countenances and a stature totally dissimilar to his own; at one time splendidly attired in robes of purple and silk, and then in a twinkling of an eye in coarse linen and a clownish coat of frieze. He would, proceed along the field with a smooth and undulating motion, without changing the posture of a limb, for all the world as if he were carried along in a ship. He would keep pace with the king's chariot, in a car drawn by barn-door fowls. He also amused the king's guests as they sat at table, by causing, when they stretched out their hands to the different dishes, sometimes their hands to turn into the cloven feet of an ox, and at other times into the hoofs of a horse. He would clap on them the antlers of a deer, so that, when they put their heads out at window to see some sight that was going by, they could by no means draw them back again; while he in the meantime feasted on the savoury cates that had been spread before them, at his leisure.

At one time he pretended to be in want of money, and to task his wits to devise the means to procure it. On such an occasion he took up a handful of grains of corn, and presently gave them the form and appearance of thirty hogs, well fatted for the market. He drove these hogs to the residence of one Michael, a rich dealer, but who was remarked for being penurious and thrifty in his bargains. He offered them to Michael for whatever price he should judge reasonable. The bargain was presently struck, Ziito at the

same time warning the purchaser, that be should on no account drive them to the river to drink. Michael, however, paid no attention to this advice; and the hogs no sooner arrived at the river, than they turned into grains of corn as before. The dealer, greatly enraged at this trick, sought high and low for the seller, that he might be revenged on him. At length he found him in a vintner's shop, seemingly in a gloomy and absent frame of mind, reposing himself, with his legs stretched out on a form. The dealer called out to him, but he seemed not to hear. Finally, he seized Ziito by one foot, plucking at it with all his might. The foot came away with the leg and thigh; and Ziito screamed out, apparently in great agony. He seized Michael by the nape of the neck, and dragged him before a judge. Here the two set up their separate complaints; Michael for the fraud that had been committed on him, and Ziito for the irreparable injury he had suffered in his person.. From this adventure came the proverb, frequently used in the days of the historian, speaking of a person who had made an improvident bargain-" He has made just such a purchase as Michael did with his hogs." M.N.

In your great shame so tainted, that mankind Shook from your touch their raiment; and your friends,

Like the pale ashes from a smouldering brand, Fell off on every side-I still was firm.

H G.

was in truth in very comfortable circumstances. He had a considerable quantity of land-let to a respectable tenant, for he himself knew nothing about farm. ing-and the rest of his property consisted in about fifteen thousand pounds, which was lent on mortgage to a very wealthy baronet. Mr. Holt might have altogether somewhere about a thousand a-year. He spent it in the true style of old English hospitality. His house was never empty; friends, when they came, were so kindly treated, that they found it extremely inconvenient to go away; -and what with coursings in the morning, comfortable dinners, pleasant companions, and extraordinary port-wine, Mr. Samuel Holt was the happiest fellow in the world. His outward man was in exact correspondence to his internal tranquillity. He was stout, but not unwieldy; there was not a wrinkle on his brow; a fine open expression animated his countenance, and there was such a glorious ruddy hue of health upon his cheek, that his friends talked of him by no other name than Rosy Sam.

"Well, my boys," said Rosy Sam, one fine September evening after dinner, "we'll drink our noble selves-I don't think I ever shot better in my life."

"Your second bird was beautifully managed," said Jack Thomson : " I never saw any gun carry so far except once in Turkey, when the Reis Effendi shot a sea-mew at a hundred and fifty yards."

"With a long bow I suppose," said Rosy Sam, who disbelieved every story, the scene of which was not laid in England.

"No, with a long brass gun which went upon wheels."

"Well, well," replied Sam, "it may be all very true; but, thank God, I never saw, and never expect to see, any of them foreign parts."

OF HIMSELF.

In a neat and comfortable cottage in the picturesque village of Bastock, lived a middle-aged gentleman of the name of Samuel Holt. The clean white paling in front of the beautiful little flowergarden before his door, shewed he was a man of taste, while the coach-house and stables at the side, shewed that he might also be considered a man of fortune. He

"I'd sooner be tried for murder."
"You may be both."

This last was said so solemnly that Rosy Sam almost changed colour. He passed it off with a laugh, and the conversation went on upon other subjects connected with Thomson's travels. All the evening, however, the prophetic announcement seemed to stick in poor Sam's throat, and when the party was about to separate for the night, holding the bedcandle in his hand, and assuming a degree

of gravity which can only be produced by an extra bottle, he said, "I'll tell you what it is, Jack: here in this cottage have I lived, man and boy, for two-andforty years. I never was out of the county in my life, and the farthest from home I ever was, was three-and-thirty miles. If you mean to say that I am to be a traveller in my old age, the Lord have mercy on me, for a helpless dog should I be among the foreignarians fellows that can't speak a word of English to save their souls, poor devils-but poh! poh! man, you can't be serious." "I am serious as a bishop, I assure you. You will travel for several years." "Poh! nonsense! I'll be d-d if I do-so, good night." The party laughed at Sam's alarm; and retired to bed.

All that night Sam's dreams were of ships and coaches. He thought he was wrecked and half drowned, then that he was upset and had his legs broken by the hind wheel. He woke in a tremendous fright, for he fancied he was on the top of one of the pyramids, and could not get down again. He thought he had been on the pinnacle for several days, that he was nearly dying of thirst and hunger, and, on starting up, he found it was time to rise; so he hurried down stairs with the utmost expedition, as he was nearly famished for his breakfast. He was met at the breakfast parlour door by his old servant, Trusty Tommy, who gave him a letter, and said, "This here letter is just come from Mr. Clutchit the attorney. His man says as how there must be an answer immediately, so I was just a comin' up to call ye."

"You would have found me knocking about the pyramids," said Rosy Sam as he proceeded to open the letter.

"Fie, for shame!" muttered old Trusty, "to make use of such an expression. Ah! as good Mr. Drawline says"

"Devil take you and Mr. Drawline -Saddle the Curate this instant; and tell the gentlemen, when they come down, that I am forced to set off on business, but that I shall certainly be back to dinner."

In the utmost haste, and with no very pleasant expression, he managed to swallow three or four eggs, nearly a loaf of bread, and half a dozen cups of tea. His horse was soon at the door; he set off at a hand gallop, and left old Trusty Tommy with his mouth open, wondering what in the world it could be that induced his master to such unusual expe

dition. The motive was indeed a serious one. Mr. Clutchit had discovered that there was a prior mortgage over the estate upon which poor Sam's fifteen thousand was advanced, and their great object now was to get the mortgage transferred to some unincumbered security. The seven miles which intervened between the lawyer and his client, were soon passed over. Hot and breathless, our poor friend, who was now more rosy than ever, rushed into the business-room of Mr. Clutchit. That gentleman, however, was nowhere to be found. On his table Sam saw a note, directed to himself-he opened it, and found the following words:

"Dear sir,-By the strangest good luck I have this moment heard that Sir Harry is at present in London. I lose not a moment, as the coach is just starting, to obtain an interview with him there, and should strongly recommend your following by the eleven o'clock coach. Indeed, your presence is indispensably necessary. I shall only have the start of you by two hours.-Your obedient servant, J. C.”

Sam threw himself into a chair in an agony of grief and wonder.

"That infernal fellow Jack Thomson," he moaned out, "is certainly more than human. They say they learn wonderful things abroad. He has learned the second sight. Little did I think two days ago, that I should ever have to hurry so far away from home. London must be seventy miles off at least-oh lord! oh lord! quite out of my own dear county what is to become of me!"

On

While indulging in this moralizing fit the coach drove up to the door-Sam mounted, almost unconscious of what he did, and was whirled off before he had time to recover from his reverie. arriving in London, night was rapidly closing in. The house where the coach stopt was a very neat comfortable sort of hostelry in the city, and our honest friend, before proceeding to any other business, solaced himself with the best dinner the bill of fare would allow. After refreshing himself with a solitary pint of port, he set out in search of Mr. Clutchit. But where to find that gentleman was the difficulty; he had left no address in his note to his client, and the people of the inn could not tell where the nine o'clock coach went to in London. They recommended him, however, to apply at various inns-The Dragon, the Swan, the Bull-and-Mouth, and a variety of other great coach caravanseries, the very

names of which were utterly unknown to the unsophisticated Sam. Away, however, he went, in total ignorance of his way, and much too independent and magnanimous to ask it. First one street was traversed, then another, and at last poor Sam was entirely lost. His great object now was to retrace his steps; but one turning was so like another, that he could not distinguish those by which he had come; and in the midst of his perplexity, he recollected that he had forgotten to take notice of the name of the inn at which he had dined, and of course could not ask any one he met to tell him his way to it. Tired out by his day's exertions, and very much dispirited, he resolved to go into the first house of entertainment he came to, and resume his search early in the morning. He accordingly went into the next inn that presented itself. He took particular pains this time to impress its name upon his memory. The Cabbage Leaf was the sign of this tavern, and it was situated at the top of one of those narrow little streets in the neighbourhood of the Tower. Honest Sam, it will be seen, had travelled in the wrong direction; but now he was too much harassed and wearied to recover his mistake. On going into the bar, he was told by the bustling little landlady that he might have a bed; but they were really so full, that he must submit to share his room with another gentleman. Sam comforted himself with the reflection, that necessity has no law, and consented to the arrangement. After a Welsh rabbit, and a glass or two of brandy and water, he was shewn to his apartment. His fellow-lodger came into the room nearly at the same time, and Sam was somewhat pleased to see he was of a very decent exterior. They entered into conversation, and his new acquaintance promised, from his knowledge of the town, to be of considerable use in furthering Sam's inquiries after Mr. Clutchit. He, however, told him, that he had some business to transact very early in the morning, and took the precaution on these occasions, especially in the winter, of shaving at night. He accordingly proceeded to shave himself; but poor Sam was so fatigued, that he fell asleep before he had finished the operation. On awaking next morning, he looked to his companion's bed, but it was empty. He had told him, however, that he should rise very early, so he was not surprised at his absence. On getting up, and searching for his inexpressibles, they were nowhere to be found. In their

place, he discovered those of his late companion; and after many strange surmises, and coming at last to the conclusion that he was robbed, he quietly slipt them on, and proceeded down stairs. His watch he had luckily put under his pillow, and there had not been above two pounds in his pockets; he found a few shillings in an old purse, a penknife, two keys, and a set of very fine teeth, carefully fitted up, and apparently never used, in the pocket of the habiliments which were left. These circumstances staggered him as to the predatory habits of his companion; and he resolved to say nothing on the subject, as he had still some hopes of the stranger's making his appearance as he had promised, and clearing up the mystery. He waited some time after breakfast with this expectation; and at last telling the landlady he should be back at a certain hour, he went out in hopes of falling in with his companion on the street. He walked down towards the river, and gazed with astonishment on the innumerable shipping. Wondering more and more at the strangeness and immensity of the scene, he thought of returning to where he had slept. Just as he was leaving the river, he saw several men go into one of the barges, and begin dragging the shallow part of the water. "What are those men after?" said Sam to a person who stood watching them. "They be draggin' for the body of a gentleman as was murdered last night, and the folks thinks that he was mayhap thrown into the river."—" Dreadful!" said Sam, turning pale at the horrid supposition. "I hope they won't find it; it would be the death of me." And shuddering lest they should pull up a mangled body in his sight, he rushed from the spot. On reaching the inn, he entered it, and was going into the bar, when two stout men rushed upon him, the landlady crying "That's the man," and threw him down with all their force. One held him by the throat, while the other handcuffed him in a moment. They then hustled him out of the house, forced him into a hackney-coach, and drove off at an amazing pace.

Sam was so much astonished at the rapidity of the whole transaction, that he could scarcely summon breath to ask his conductors what they meant. At last he said, "What the devil can be the meaning of all this? Is this the way to treat a country gentleman ?" well he sports the Johnnie," said one of the men to the other, without attending to Sam's questions. "He'll queer the beaks if the tide stands his friend, and

"How bloody

rolls off the stiff 'un." "No, there ben't no chance of that," responded the other, "for they've set to so soon with the drags. I'll bet a gallon of gin to a pint o' purl, he dies in his shoes, with his ears stuffed with cotton." Do you mean me, you scoundrel?" cried Sam, who did not quite understand them, but perceived that they spoke of him rather disrespectfully. Come, come, master, none of your hard words; we aint such scoundrels as to Burke our bedfellow homsomever. At this moment, at the corner of a street, Sam saw Mr. Clutchit hurrying as if on very urgent business. He pushed his

head out of the window and hallo'd

"Clutchit, Clutchit! Here's a pretty go!" and held out his manacled hands. But his companions pulled him forcibly back, and he did not know whether his attorney had perceived him or not. Soon after this the coach stopt at a dingylooking house, with iron gratings before the windows. We gets out here, my covey," said one of the men, "but I daresay we shall join company again on our way to Newgate. "-"You insulting scoundrel," said Sam, "I hope never to see your ugly face again." "No, nor Jack Ketch's neither-but mizzle, mizzle, I say his worship's been waiting this hour." They then proceeded into a dark room, which was crowded with people. They all made way for Sam and his two conductors, till they stood directly in front of three gentlemen in comfortable arm-chairs. "Call the first witness," said one of the gentlemen, and immediately appeared the bustling little landlady of the Cabbage Leaf. "Is that the man who slept in your house last night?""It is, your worship; and little did I think such a bloody-minded villain”"Hush! answer only to the questions that are put to you-About what o'clock was it when he came to your house?""About ten o'clock, the rascal". Here Sam, whose astonishment now gave place to rage and indignation, started up, and said to the magistrates, "Harkee, gentlemen, I'll be d-d if I don't make you pay for this. How dare you". "Officers, look close to the prisoner," said one of their worships. "I recommend you, prisoner, to say nothing till the examination is concluded." And Sam sat down again, wondering where all this would end. "You say the prisoner came to your house about ten o'clock -had you any conversation with him?" "No, your worship; he only had his supper, and two glasses of brandy and water.". "He then went to bed?”—

66

Yes; I shewed him up to number nine." "Was it a single-bedded room?" -"No, there were two beds in it.""Describe its situation."-" It is just at the top of the first stair, which fronts the side door into the lane."-" Could that door be opened without wakening the house?"_"Yes; we never keep it closed with more than a latch, 'cause of the watermen getting quietly down to the river."-"Was the other bed in the same room occupied ?"-"Yes; a gentleman slept in it."—" You saw no more of the prisoner that night. Well, in the morning, when did you see him?"—“ He came down to breakfast, but seemed very low and uneasy.' "Did he say anything to you about his companion?"—" Yes; he sighed, and said he was sure he would never come back. When did he leave the house?"" He went down towards the river in about half an hour."—" Very well-you may stand down. Call the next witness.'

Nothing particular at first; but in a little, I thought the beds and carpet more tumbled than usual. I looked into the other gentleman's bed, and there I saw the sheets and pillow marked with blood."

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(Here the witness turned very faint.) "Well, did you give the alarm?"— Yes; I ran down and told Missusbut the prisoner had gone out."-"What did you do?”—“We told all the lodgers, and asked if they had heard any noise. One of them, John Chambers, heard heavy steps on the stair."—" Well, we shall examine John Chambers himself."

John Chambers, on being examined, said, that about three or four in the morning, he heard heavy steps coming down the stair, as if of a man carrying a great weight; the side-door into the lane was opened, and the person went out. He watched for some time, and heard a stealthy pace going up stairs again; after which he fell asleep, as his suspicions were quieted by the person's return.

A witness next appeared, who deposed, that, having an appointment with Abraham Reeve, the person supposed to be murdered, he proceeded to the Cabbage Leaf, and found it all in an uproar at the suspected murder. Abraham Reeve was by profession a dentist; and had that morning fixed to furnish the witness with a handsome set of ivories.

"Please your worship," said one of the officers who had conducted the unfortunate Samuel to the office, "on