the father; "an angel speaks out of your mouth," echoed James: but requesting their attention a little longer, I thus continued. 66 Although I do not certainly know, yet I have reason to suspect that Agnes's mother is not in such affluent circumstances as my client, and that probably the young woman besides her economy and knowledge of housekeeping possesses little or nothing, but.... The aunt here burst out, "How, little or nothing? no, no, that shall not go thus I do not understand it so, and shall never permit it if it was ever so : not at all."

Not a little astonished at such an unexpected interruption, and thinking no otherwise than that she wanted to put a clog to the wheel; "How," said I, "what do you mean by this? I always thought the match was to your liking, from whence then arises this sudden and unaccountable change?"

"Who says I have altered my mind?" says aunt, "but I again repeat that I will not suffer the girl to bring nothing for her portion: if her mother cannot give her any thing, I shall. I know James is to have a thousand rix-dollars, and she shall have the like, and this will be no hinderance to you, niece Kitty, for if you meet with a worthy young man, although he has not a doit in the world, you shall have the same.' Upon this, the whole company recovered their spirits, especially James, who, on hearing his aunt's first words grew as pale as a criminal who had just heard his sentence of death pronounced.

:

A general silence still continuing, she resumed, "Well, what do ye stare at me for? I hope you do not think I am become so suddenly generous because I have drank a glass too much: what I say, I mean, send for a notary to write it down what I am now doing I always intended, for I am old and not accustomed to live expensively, so that I cannot spend all my money, and 'tis all the same to me whether you have it now, or after my death." No sooner had she said this, than James, overjoyed with such unexpected good fortune, flung himself, crying, about his aunt's neck! I made a sign to Agnes to do the same, and notwithstanding she was disordered, she acquitted herself of that duty with tokens of unaffected and tender gratitude, in which we all followed her. I could not help shedding tears as the others did. Aunt cried too, through joy that she had accomplished such a good deed. She persisted in her desire of having a no

tary sent for, and although I thought it might appear dishonourable, as if mistrusting her word, we were obliged to comply, especially as she added that having no other near friends than those present, the wedding might as well be concluded that same evening. Every thing she wished was done in a very short time, which raised James's rapture to the highest pitch. He caught Agnes in his arms, crying, "Now, however, you are mine." She fell into his, so agitated as hardly to know what she did, and she appeared to be just on the point of fainting, had not her lover restored her spirits with a thousand loving kisses. It may be easily imagined, that the rest of the evening passed with redoubled pleasure.

Twiss Miscellanies.

THE CRIES OF LONDON. (For the Parterre.)

That

THERE are some cries in London, which strike the ear of the dullest, whether countryman or cockney. I mean those which intimate even to the busy and bustling the revolution of the seasons. The cry of the knife-grinder, the tinker, or the mender of old chairs, is not periodical; neither is that of "old clothes;" it resounds from one end of the metropolis, to the other, every morning throughout the year. But there are many cries which come with the season, like the cuckoo and the swallow. of primroses is as pleasant as any; it tells of the approach of spring; and the unfortunates who are doomed to be penned up in town, dream o'nights of the country, and fancy they are watching the trees put on their green liveries, while the primroses look meekly up to the pattering of the light showers among the almost leaf-less branches above them. We would rather have a tuft of primroses than the finest geranium that ever graced the button hole of a linen draper's apprentice's sunday coat.

Another cry is, "marrow-fat peas;" and a June sun is blazing above you; the streets are hot and close in spite of the water-carts, and the people are glad to get on the shady side of the way; but they can only do this in the morning and evening: while the sun is in the meridian there is no shelter, except within doors, and there you have no air, so you must make up your mind either to be suffocated, or broiled to death. Steam boats swell the noble current of the Thames, and endanger the lives of the lieges, while thousands of the Londoners

hasten to gulp the air at Margate, Ramsgate, or Gravesend. Mrs. Wiggins the fat butcher's wife, thinks Margate "so wulgar" and Gravesend intolerably dull, and therefore goes to Brighton and stares at its Chinese monstrosities, and spends her husband's six months' profits. Wagon loads of cabbages and other esculents, come groaning into town to the different markets, which teem with fruit, flowers, and vegetables.

July arrives, and the cries of almost every kind of fruit are heard; but there is one, which even at this period sounds to our ear like the approach of winter: it is that of "walnuts to pickle!" when walnuts are fit for the table, the glory of autumn is departed, and we reckon on the short time that will elapse before they will be denuded of their green hides and rattling in the china plate after dinner.

There is another cry, which we had almost forgotten. It is-water-cresses. Listen to that call-"water-creeses!" It is not that of some

-wretched matron forced in age for bread,

To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread;"

(For water-cresses in this age of improvement are regularly cultivated like other plants), but the note of a poor sickly girl, who, though it is Sunday morning, is thus compelled to earn a miserable subsistence. See, she is called by yon sleek-faced hypocrite opposite, who is rating her soundly for vending her cresses on the Lord's day. She leaves the house without a penny; and her monitor's carriage drives up to the door to take him to the top of the street, where he has a chapel, in which he plays the mountebank, and talks familiarly of holy things, and rails against pride and ostentation! Reader, this is no fable! Walworth, July 1834.

MISCELLANIES.

UNCONSCIOUS IRONY.

A.

SOME time ago the clerk of one of the chapels at Birmingham, previous to the commencement of the service, dirtied his hand with putting some coals on the fire, and unconsciously rubbing his face, besmeared it so as to resemble a son of Vulcan. He turned into the readingdesk, where he naturally attracted much attention, which was considerably increased when he gave out the first line

of the hymn, "Behold the brightness of my face." The congregation could no longer preserve their gravity, and an involuntary laugh burst from every corner of the chapel.

HINT TO AUTHORS.

Ir is the business of an author to employ himself perpetually in observing and reflecting. He must be careful also, to set down his observations and reflections, or they will pass away from his mind, so as to be never recovered. If the most ordinary individual were to arrest all his thoughts, much would be found both amusing and instructive. He should consider that walk as almost wasted time, from which he returned with no new thought or discovery.

ORIGIN OF THE WORD BANKRUPT.

THE term Bank is derived from the Italian word Banco, (bench). The Lombard Jews in Italy kept benches in the market-places, where they exchanged money and bills. When a banker failed, his bench was broken by the populace, hence the term Bank-rupt.

A FASHIONABLE PAIR.

Lady Anne never failed to be agreeable. Vanity was with her the one great moving principle of thought and action. She sought admiration from all, and obtained it from many; for she possessed, in a remarkable degree, that quick discrimination of character, which taught her to select with judgment the weakness she assailed. Coquetry became to her an art; and, like the skilful chess-player, she laid her plan upon a sagacious application of rules founded on experience. But though the charm of conquest was great, the plan of defeat was greater; and her life was one of triumph without happiness, and mortification without humility.—Mr. Preston was a good-looking young man, about twenty-seven years of age, of serious pursuits, and a frivolous mind. Not fond of study, and very fond of display, he affected deep researches and acquired shallow knowledge. An early propensity for collecting shells and stuffing birds had been construed into a love of science, and a memory for technicalities into the fruits of labour. The decorations of his library confirmed him a scholar, whilst the imagination of an upholsterer, and the judgment of a jeweller, gave pretensions to taste. Thus disguising the soul of a dandy in the garb of a pedant, he deceived himself, if not others, into the belief that his objects were elevated and his abilities universal. -Dacre, by the Countess of Morley.

HISTORICAL SKETCHES.

No. 1.
(For the Parterre).

THE SURPRISE OF THE CASTLE OF GUISNES.

THE reign of Edward the Third is distinguished for martial splendour beyond that of any other English sovereign. During the sway of this sagacious and warlike prince, our ancestors performed many feats which would be considered as improbable, if related by the novelist. Events took place which exceed in interest the wildest creations of romance; and they have been chronicled by one who was in every respect worthy to record them-the concise, energetic, and chivalrous Froissart. Where is the Englishman who does not feel a glow of pride, as his eye loiters over the pages of that veracious old chronicler? Nearly five centuries have passed since our mailclad heroes earned deathless fame on the plains of Crescy and Poictiers; yet the names of those brave knights are familiar to our ears "as household words."

But it was not always in pitched battles that the courage and prowess of our ancestors were tried. The hosts that opposed them at Crescy, at Poictiers,

and at Agincourt, were disordered by their very numbers: in petty battles and skirmishes the French chivalry performed deeds of valour, of which their descendants may proudly boast: of this we have innumerable proofs, and it would be detracting from the glory of our countrymen to deny to their rivals the possession of courage, enterprise, and fortitude, worthy of the age in which they lived.

In the year 1351, the twenty-fifth of the reign of Edward the Third, the castle of Guisnes, then held by the French, was surprised and taken possession of by the English. The historians are not unanimous in their account of this capture; but the following appears to bear the stamp of authenticity, and is, besides, more circumstantial than the others.

The town of Guisnes, situated about five miles from Calais, was, at the time referred to, merely surrounded by a deep ditch; but the castle, which commanded it, was a place of great strength, and always contained a good garrison, much to the annoyance of the English. The French well knew the importance of the place as a check to the foragers of Calais, and in this year were busily em

ployed in repairing and adding to the fortifications.

It chanced that among the English prisoners detained at Guisnes was one John Lancaster, an archer, who had not been able to obtain a sum sufficient for his ransom. The Englishman had been released from confinement, upon condition of his assisting the workmen employed in the repair of the castle. This afforded him an opportunity of engaging the affections of a young laundress, who informed him that a wall two feet broad crossed the ditch a little below the water, which entirely concealed it. The archer took especial notice of the place, and watching his opportunity, obtained, by means of a line, the height of the castle walls, then letting himself down from the ramparts, crossed the hidden wall of brick, and concealed himself in the marshes until night-fall. As the night advanced he entered within the English pale, and proceeded towards Calais. He waited without the town until day-break, for the gates were closed against all comers during the night, and being admitted hastened to his companions, to whom he related the particulars of his escape. A council was held, the surprise of the castle contemplated, and about thirty daring spirits prepared themselves for the hazardous attempt. Scaling ladders of the proper height were got ready according to the archer's instructions, and at night the Englishmen advanced cautiously towards the fortress. Silently crossing the ditch, they planted their scaling ladders, and mounting the walls, seized and dispatched the sentinels, and threw their bodies into the moat below. Totally unconscious of their danger, the knights and their ladies, in the chambers and turrets, were buried in sound sleep, but several of the chief officers were still sitting in the great hall playing at chess. Suddenly the archer and his friends burst in upon them, and the scene was changed into one of wild uproar. The astonished Frenchmen flew to their arms, and stoutly defended themselves; but victory declared in favour of the intruders, and the survivors were disarmed and bound. The Englishmen then broke open the chambers, seized on the sleeping inmates, whom they also bound, and having secured them in a strong room, they released the English prisoners that had been taken the preceding year, and set them as a guard over their former masters.

The castle was now reduced, and the

Englishmen shewed themselves not un worthy of the victory, by allowing the ladies to depart on horseback whither they pleased, with their furniture, apparel and jewels. With the morning came the French workmen engaged in the repair of the castle, but their consternation was great as they beheld the walls manned by strangers; and flying in haste from the spot, they communicated the sad tidings to the townspeople, who were totally unconscious of what had happened. Additional force soon arrived from Calais, and the castle was properly garrisoned by the English.

Loud were the complaints of the Frenchmen, which reached the ears of King Edward, who rejoicing at the possession of this important fortress, returned for answer, "that what was done, was without his knowledge and consent, and that he would send his command to the new possessors, to deliver it up to the rightful owner." The Earl of Guisnes appearing before the castle, demanded in whose name and by whose authority they held the place.

"We hold it in the name and on behalf of John Lancaster," was the reply.

The Earl then inquired if the archer considered himself as the liegeman of King Edward, upon which Lancaster himself replied, that he knew not what messengers had been in England, and that he had resolved to keep himself secure where he was. An offer of forty thousand crowns, with an indemnity from the king of France, proved of no avail; the archer was inexorable.

"Before the taking of this castle," said he, "we were all good subjects of England, but by this offence during the time of truce, we are no better than banished men. The place which we now hold, we would willingly exchange or sell, but to none sooner than to our natural lord, King Edward, by which we may obtain a pardon; but if he should refuse the offer, we will then sell it to the French King, or to any one who may offer most."

This bantering stung the earl to the quick; and he quitted the place, which remained in the hands of the English.

In answer to the renewed complaints of the French monarch, King Edward reminded him that, "there was no article in the truce which prohibited buying and selling."

B.

CHESS.

SOME pique themselves on the discernment of character by physiognomy, some look to configuration of brain, while others augur from hand-writing; this species of divination, however, being mainly monopolized by the feminine gender. As to ourselves, we hold to chess-playing. We calculate upon prognosticating more of character, intellect, and predominating passions by playing with a man at chess, than by all the instructions of Lavater, Spurzheim, and Deville, put together. It is the "speaking grammar" of the human heart. It approaches nearest to what a fanciful man is said have once desired, that men's hearts were cased in glass, so that each might peer into the innermost recesses of his neighbour's soul. It is an illustration of the celebrated Novum Organum; you deduce causes from their effects after the manner of the Baconian philosophy, and a knowledge of those causes, is a knowledge of the man; and whereas success in generalization depends on the accuracy of individual experiments, so a correct knowledge of individual character is essential to true knowledge of the world.

This new system of notation is to the moral world what the discovery of fluxions, in their facilitation of calculation, was to the mathematical. From the incalculable advantages derivable from chess as a test of character, we may not unreasonably surmise that a certain proficiency in this science will form, ere long, an indispensable qualification for all ambassadors to foreign courts, law officers, post-masters and police superintendents; while we confidently anticipate the happiest results from the application of the same test in naval and military promotions. Domestic life might at the same time participate in the general benefits. Preliminary matrimonial calculations or courtships might on this plan be conducted, if not with greater satisfaction, at least with more certainty of a desirable finale, and many a heart might flutter on unbroken.

For the present we attempt only a general outline, reserving our more elaborate treatise for a neat little pocket 12mo, -having been prevented accepting an offer made us to concentrate our remarks in a review of Mr. Lewis's two last admirable octavos in the Quarterly, by the annexation to the offer of a condition Our indomitable spirit (unlike some others, we opine) utterly abhors, that of

intersprinkling our literary and philosophical lucubrations with political allusions. Respondeat superior.

Attend then to the following rules :In sitting down to play, take notice how far your adversary troubles himself about arranging the board and men, or whether he obtrudes all the preliminary settlement upon yourself. If the latter, and if he makes you set a good part of his own men for him, you may be sure he reckons himself something too good for you, and stands high in his own esteem. At Cambridge we called such a man bumptious. It attends him in all his actions through life.-" L'âme n'a pas de secret que la conduite ne revèle. L'amour propre est le plus grand de tous les flatteurs."

Some players move very quick, not only at the commencement of the game, but all through it. They sometimes make good moves, but always many blunders. The most critical situations, alike with the easiest, command only a momentary regard, and pass half-examined. Such men are clever, and get on in the world by pure luck-rash in enterprise, uncertain in execution. Avoid much dealing with them. Of high mettle, impatient of control, and reckless of consequences, they will bring you into trouble. The quickest player we ever met with was a Spanish refugee. All Spaniards play quick. Their national character is impetuosity. Aussitot dit, aussitot fait."

en

If an adversary, to whom you know yourself to be greatly superior, refuses to take odds in playing with you, and yet does not scruple to be perpetually taking back moves when he leaves a piece " prise," set him down for a good-for-nothing, shuffling fellow. He has a mean heart. He will retail wise men's sayings as his own: he will be a downright plagiarist, cut a dash on borowed finances, or exemplify what is termed the shabby genteel. Have no concern with him. L'orgueil ne veut pas devoir et l'amour propre ne veut pas payer — Rochefoucault.

A chess-player always opening his game when he has the attack, on the queen's side, may be generally set down as a stupid fellow, of paucity of ideas, and small inventive resources,-a bad companion,-his temperament nervous, and political creed conservative. Many old bachelors adopt this opening, but by no means exclusively. Il n'a pas inventé la poudre.-Old proverb.