The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1838-07-13 00:00:00

POLICE INTELLIGENCE.

WHO WEARS THE BREECHES?—Yesterday, at the Police-
office, a lad was brought up on a charge of stealing a quan-
tity of brass. On being examined he owned to stealing the
brass, and said he had sold 41bs of of it to a Jew, named
Samuels, a marine-store keeper, for 14d. The marine-store
keeper having been sent for shortly arrived. Mr. Hall.—
"Did this boy sell you some brass?" Samuels.—" Brash !
No such a Ling. He come to me von day lasht week yid a
pair of trousers. Sah I ask 'im, vere you get 'em ? Are
dey your moders, or your farders? (Laughter.) But he
vould not tell vedder dey belonged to. Vell, next time he
come again on a Sunday, vid de same trousers, and want to
sell 'em to me." Mr. Hall.—" Never mind the trousers.
He is not brought here for trousers. lam talking to you
about brass. The boy says he sold you a quantity for 14d."
Samuels.—" Vell ; when you sold it to me ?" -Boy.—" It
wad sometime last week." Mr. Hall.—" Do You keep a ma-
rine store?" Samuels.—Yesh, dis four or five week. Did
you sell it to me or my missish?" Boy.—To Mrs. Samuels."
Samuels.—" Har, dat ish not me; dat ish my vife." This
being a different story to what the boy bad before told, he
was sent for one month to the House of Correction.
STEALING SPlRlTS.—Yesterday, at the Police-office, two
labourers, named John and Francis M`Cann, in the employ-
ment of Messrs. Jones and Preston, distillers, were placed
before the magistrates on a charge of stealing a quantity of
spirits. One of the overlookers said that on Monday night,
on going to the top of the wash-tub, where he was out of
sight of the prisoners and yet could see where the spirits ran
from the still, he saw the prisoner John M`Cann place a
biggin, capable of holding six quarts, under the pipe, and
fill it; they then filled their cans and a bladder with it. They
were both firemen, and lit up the fires. Mr. Preston said
that on Tuesday morning, about half-past six, from informa-
tion which led flint to suspect the prisoners, he stopped them
as they were going out of his premises, and in John M`Cann's
basket he found a bladder full of whiskey, and his breakfast-
can full, altogether three quarts and two pints; and on Fran-
cis M'Cann he found a bottle full of whiskey and his can full,
altogether two quarts and half a pint. The value of the
whiskey, inclusive of the duty of 7s per gallon, was about
13s. It was impossible for him to miss l'.from so large a qttan-
thy as it was being distilled. A workman on the premises,
trained Avous, said he saw the two prisoners lowering buckets
with a string under the receiver, in June last, to get the spi-
rit; he then told them they would be transported if they ever
did it again, and they said they never would. Mr. Hall said
is was very wrong in him not to have told his master of this,
and most probably he Vvould have discharged them if he had.
Mr. Preston said the men had been iu theirernployment thir-
teen or fourteen years. The informations were ordered to
be taken for their trial.

A LURCH IN A GLASS SHOP.—Yesterday, at the Police-
office, a sailor with a new blue jacket on, faced with silk,
but covered with mud, was placed before the magistrates,
'charged with breaking a quantity of glass in the shop of 1111.
111‘Donald, in Lord-street. Mr. M`Donald said, that on
Wednesday afternoon the sailor came into his shop, and
without speaking a word made a lurch head foremost into a
number of cut glass bowls on the floor, and broke them to
pieces The sailor, who had yet hardly recovered his senses
from the effects of the drink, in which he had steeped them,
hiccuped out that if they would go to Mr. Duncan Gibb's
office, they would get paid the damage. Mr. Hall.—" Pool-
lish man; tried which was hardest; your head or the glass.:'
He was ordered to be discharged on paying the damage, about
seven shillings per bowl.
A MURDEROUS INDIVIDUAL.—Yesterday, at the Police-
office, a drunken-looking pot-bellied publican, named O'Don-
nell, was charged with violently assaulting an old woman,
and threatening to do" for the police. Policeman No. 4
said the prisoner kept a beer shop, and whilst he was on duty
the night before on his beat, be, heard a violent noise in the
street, and ongoing to see what was the matter, found him
striking and abusing a female, and creating a great disturb-
ance. On taking him into custody he (the prisoner) threat-
ened his life, and to " do" for him, and his conduct generally
was such, and he had such a gang of persons round him,
that he was afraid to do his duty in the street. A stout old
woman, who had lost halt her teeth, said she lived down
stairs in the same house with the prisoner, and that he
had frequently ill-used her; and the night before he came
running down stairs with the tongs in his hand, anti said
"you b— old woman, I will draw your teeth." He had
before knocked hall her teeth out. On Sunday night last
the prisoner was wanting to 'lice the policeman in to give
him a glass of ale, whilst he and two of his associates were
inside; and she overheard them saving what they would do
with him if they could get him in. 'Mr. Hall ordered him to
pay ss. for being drunk, and to find bail, himself in £5O,
and two sureties of £25 each, for his future good behaviour.

During the present week, Douglas market has been pretty
well supplied with fresh herrings, which were sold at the
moderate price of 20 for a shilliug. Hitherto these welcome
annual v►siters were brought from Peel, but from certain
indications, well understood by fishermen, there is reason to
believe that fishing will soon commence on this side of the
Island. For some days past several porpoises, or sea hogs,
have been seen in Douglas Bay, and on Wednesday a gram-
pus was observed near the Head, by the passengers on board
the Queen of the Isle when coming from Liverpool. The
appearance of such large fish at this season, is generally
considered as a token that the herring shoals are at no great
distance.—Manx Liberal.

CORRESPONDENCE'

THE EXCHANGE NEWS-BOA
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TO THE EDITOR OF THE LIVERPOOL S"rit.4.—"-i- RR.—
17, 4 V,
Stn,—Allow me, through the medium of your ex nsively'
circulated and vale-able journal, to suggest that more atten7o
tion should be given to the selection of papers for the collie-
nience of subscribers to the Exchange News-room.
On the arrival of the London newspapers, a rush is made
to the table where Lloyd's List and the Shipping Mercantile
Gazette are to be seen, and but three copies only of the latter
are taken, while at the tables on the east side of the building
are _placed a great quantity of the other morning and even-
ing newspapers.
Having laboured under the inconvenience, in common
with many others, by waiting to see the publications I have
named, I trust the complaint will speedily meet with proper
attention.

I have the honor to be, Sir, yours, &c.
A SUBSCRIBER TO THE ROOMS.

SAILING OF THE GREAT WESTERN.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE LIVERPOOL ST2INI4RD.
SIR,-1 perceive by a notice in the News-room that letters
for the Great *Western must be posted before 2 45 p.m., on
Friday, the 20th. As it is of kreat importance that this fast
ship should carry out the latest and most authentic particulars
regarding the cotton market, I would suggest for the con-
sideration of the cotton brokers of Liverpool, that they make
up their stocks and weekly statements at twelve o'clock on
'Friday the 20th, instead of at 4 p.m., and that this should
be their practice on each Friday preceding the day the Great
Western is to sail. It would be a great pity that the particu-
lars of the market should be announced to us just an hour
too late for advice by such an opportunity.—l am, &c.
12th July, 1838 A MERCHANT.

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Vottrp.

THE ELOPEMENT-A TALE.

CONTEMPORAI?Y PRESS.

POPISH OUTRAGE.
(From the Times.)

(From the Sunbeam.)
The are many rum fellows in village and town,
With rum noses dyed red, and rum faces dyed brown;
Who wear the peruke, and the full bottomed wig,
And that elegant thing like the tail of a pig;
Who are busy, and idle, and little, and big—
Who are dwarfish and tall,
Who squeak and who bawl,
But Habakkuk Lynn was the rummest of all!
In a neat little house, with neat windows and door,
And a garden behind, and a garden before,
~ilwlived on a timeesistitA4se-4-tine is-now o'er,
And wilinever, oh! never, return any more.
Midst this busy world's din,
There's a smile that can win
The heart of a man from temptation and sin,
And that smile it belonged to Miss Lydia Lynn;
It beamed on her father—it beamed on her maid—
It beamed on her hooks.e-on the music she played—
It beamed on the gardener—it beamed on his spade—
And at length the sweet smile most unwillingly strayed
To a youth who walked past,
Rather slower than fast;
And, strangely enough, there it rested and stayed.
Mr. Mandeville Jones had dark eyes and dark hair,
Dark whiskers, and also a delicate pair
Of dark young mustachios—an aquiline nose—
A brow like the lily—a cheek like the rose—
And teeth which were quite
As beauteously white
As the paper unsoiled upon which we now write.
Ile was five feet ten inches, sans stockings and shoes,
And might have enlisted, but he didn't choose,
In fact, he was bandsome; and, stranger than funny,
Mr. Mandeville Jones had not very much money!
111-natured folks say
That he squandered away
A very large fortu:e, and say it they may.
We only know this—when he first cast his eye
On Miss Lydia Lynn, as he strolled slowly by,
His pockets were light and his spirits were low,
And he knew not, and cared not, which way he should go.
Mr. Mandeville Jones made inquiries about,
And, with very small trouble, be chanced to find out,
That old Mr. Lynn,
Though himself very thin,
Had strong chests which were lined pretty thickly within;
And then he discovered, with praiseworthy care,
That Miss Lydia Lynn was her father's sole heir.
Very well dressed,
And looking his best,
One day Mr. Jones became Mr. Lynn's guest;
He staid until twelve, and often again
Did he dine there, and until the midnight remain;
And smoked many a pipe, and played many a rub
With Lynn, except once, when Lynn went to his club.
And then ! why young Mandeville sat by the side
Of Miss Lynn—and he talked, and oft mournfully sighed,
Till at last, in a transport, he rose from his seat,
And threw himself headlong at Lydia's feet!
Already too many love stories have been
Written by far, so we'll just close the scene;
Suffice it to say
That all went the right way,
And the lover agreed that he would, the next day,
Ask for the consent of Miss Lydia's sire,
To the marriage which seemed to be all their desire;
And further, if he should destroy their fond hope,
They determined, without more ado, TO ELOPU!
Mr. Lynn, in peremptory accents denied
That his daughter should e'er be young Mandeville's bride.
The handsome young pair, in the garden that night,
Walked slowly along in the moon's lovely light ;
And they smiled pretty often, and whispered away,
And some one behind heard young Mandeville say,
"The carriage and horses all ready will be,
To-morrow night, love, near the sycamore tree,
And at ten I expect you, my dearest, to see;
And I've found a post-boy who is up to the "spree,"
And who swears, if he's caught, that he'll eat you and me !
And the lady replied, "Just the thine' to a T!"
• •

Ten o'clock! Now the carriage rolls over the stones,
With Jack Smith, the post-boy, and Mandeville Jones;
And they stop at the tree, and Miss Lynn soon appears,
And a mantle and hood o'er her figure she wears;
And the too happy lover stands quick by the side
Of the beautiful girl, his intended young bride.
And they quickly get in, and the door is shut—smack !
And Jack Smith mounts, and his whip is heard—crack!
And away do they go—horses, carriage, and all,
As swift as an arrow, or black cannon ball!

" Cheer up, my dear creature," the lover exclaims;
" Such an action as ours, the man sins who blames;
Your father's a rum un, (your pardon!) and when
We return, he will be the most happy of men!"
So saying, his right arm he tenderly placed,
With a gently-heaved sigh, round the young lady's waist;
And quickly he would
Have uncovered her hood,
But she threw it herself from her head in great haste;
Oh! horror, 'twas old Mr. Lynn he embraced',

"Stop! Stop ! von curst post-boy !" cried Jones in despair,
But his words died away, unheard on the air;
" You miserly scoundrel ! you precious old rogue!"
• And this to a speech of abuse was prologue,
But Habakkuk Lynn laughed loud with his joy,
And nothing he said, but "I've caught you, my boy'."
Oh! never again was poor Mandeville seen,
In the places where once he so often had been ;
Mr. Lynn ne'er beheld him since that scene of strife ;
And Miss Lydia became a rich wine merchant's wife,
And happily lived "all the days of her life!"

The Newfoundland Public Ledger of the 19th ult.
contains au extraordinary statement, furnished by cor-
respondents, of an outrage committed on two women
by a Roman Catholic priest, designated as " Father
Troy." The facts alleged are, that this person, ac-
companied by another priest, was seen in the act of
"barbarously and inhumanly" beating a poor woman;
that she fled from him, but was pursued and overtaken,
and that on her kneeling to him for mercy in " the
name of the Virgin," he " kicked her from one side
to the other." The editor of the Public Ledger; in
commenting on this case, observes, that it is one by no
means unprecedented in that settlement, and that the
open and violent personal collision of "certain of the
Romish priesthood with the offending members of their
flock has been unhappily too notorious." He very
properly remarks at the tame time on the conduct of
his correspondents, who appear to have stood quietly
by, the witnesses of this brutal outrage committed
upon a woman, without any sort of interference even
by words. The really important feature of the case
is, however, the state of manners and government
which must exist in the colony of Newfoundland, when
neither private individuals nor the public authorities
are found to interfere for the prevention of outrages
like these by the lower order, for it can be no other, of
the Catholic priests, as contrary to law as they are to
decency and good order. This notice, it is to be hoped,
will produce an admonition, of no very gentle kind,
from home.

POPISH EI\;ICROACHIVIENTS.
(From thB Morning Herald.)
It should never be forgotten by those who wish to
come to a direct judgment upon the fairness of the
present claims of the Irish Romanists regarding the
Protestant church establishment,. that every act, and
every expression of hostility to that establishment by
these Romanists, is virtually and practically a giving
of the lie to themselves. Perhaps we might not think
it necessary to insist upon this, if their present objec-
tions were urged in a moderate spirit and in the man-
ner of argument; but when they use the most violent
terms of abusive language respecting the establish-
ment, and utter the fiercest vows of determination that
it shall not continue to prevail in Ireland, we are not
only justified in reminding them of the real position in
which they stand, but called upon to assert that their
conduct is no less false and treacherous, than their lan-
guage is insulting and violent.
How happens it that they can now stand up in the
House of Commons, and from their places as members
of Parliament, fulminate threats of perpetual hostility
to the church establishment? How does it come to
pass that in the representative house of legislature of
the empire—of an empire essentially and fundament-
ally Protestant—they can rise up and insist that no
matter what arrangement the legislature may try to
effect, the Irish people will never cease from their at-
titude of hostility, and their tone of menace, until the
establishment is cut down and put in the position of
an inferior sect? The question cannot be fairly and
honestly answered without Pronouncing the condem-
nation of
the Romanist leaders, as the most shame-
lessly. treacnerona body of public men that has dis-
graced the modern history of Europe. They obtained
the privilege of sitting in the legislature bq affirma-
tions of every degree and kind of solemnity—made in
every possible quarter, and persevered in for year af-
ter year, and parliarnentafter parliament, that to place
them in the legislature world be to secure the Protes-
tant church establishment from the assaults to which it
would otherwise be subject ! We do not pretend that
in stating this we state any new thing. The perse-
vering craft with which the Romt-lists prepared the
way for their admission to the legislature is sufficiently
notorious; but it has been so unnsual a thing in Eng-
land for men in a public station to chat aside all consi-
deration of former pledges, to treat the
, tnost solemn
compacts with scorn, and to force tllemselvt's, without
apparently the slightest emotions of shame, into that
very position which they had proclaimed that they
would never dream of approaching; this, we say, has
been in this country so unusual, that when the Irish
Romanist leaders do it, the British public think there
must have been some mistake about the terms of their
admission to parliament. They know that these men
are listened to in parliament, and that, instead of be-
ing scouted from society as monsters of treacherousi
ingratitude, and insolent violators of the truth, w
ho
have placed themselves beyond the pale of even com-
mon public courtesy, they are welcome to the ministe-
rial ranks, and official favour bestowed on them with
no niggard measure. _Knowing this, the public begin
todoubt whether these tempestuous railers against the
Protestant establishment can be the very same who•
within ten years assured this Protestant empire that
their admission, or even admissibility to the legisla-
ture to the legislature, would be a pledge for the se-
curity of the establishment, to which they would be
bound alike by a sense •of gratitude and a sense of
duty.

There is, however, no doubt of the fact—and it
ought to animate every Protestant subject of the Bri-
tish monarch to indignant resistance of Romanist hos-
tility to the established church—that the persons who
are foremost in this hostility, who indulge in the
fiercest language of hatred regarding the establish-
ment, and most insultingly demand its complete de-
struction, are the very same persons who treacherously
pretended that if they, and the Romanists generally,

were made eligible to sit in parliament, the established
church in Ireland would be no longer disturbed.
It is not our object to contend that, because the Ro-
man Catholics have been emancipated, abuses should
be allowed to remain in the Protestant church. God
forbid! But every sincere and conscientious man must
see how wide the difference is between a reform in
which rights are considered and the constitution of the
country respected, and a destructive change, urged on
by the violence of palpably treacherous men, and de-•
manded, not in a spirit of desire for improvement, but
of lust for vengeance.
We do not see how there can be even a single
thoughtful person, of Protestant principles, who can be
free from alarm, indignation, and even shame, at the
shocking exhibition of violence and treachery by the
Romanist politicians of the day—at the continued bat-
tery of excitements and delusions by which the Ro-
manist political conspirators against the Protestant
empire of Great Britain seek to overthrow the old
principles and habitual feelings of this land. We are
sure that no honest Protestant does his duty, who does
not, within whatever sphere lie is capable of influen-
cing, hold up to just indignation the malignant treach-
ery with which British institutions are, by these con-
spirators, continually assailed.

WHIG BLUNDERING.
(From the Dublin Evening Mail.)
The ignorance, precipitation, and utter incompe-
tence of ministers to do any act of statesmanship
aright, is visible in the meanest details of,civil, fiscal,
or municipal arrangement, just as much as in the
higher matters of policy, principle, and good govern-
ment. The Irish Municipal Boundaries Bill affords a
precious illustration.
In the English Municipal Boundaries Bill, the mi-
nistry conceived the very possible case, that the new
boundaries of the corporations and the old might not
be conterminous—and, accordingly, provided that all
portions cut off by it from the old municipalities should
belong to the respective adjoining counties.
In the Irish Bill no such provision has been made—
whole districts have been excised from the corporate
territories—in some instances so large as 64 square
miles, and they have been provided for in no earthly
way ; they are to belong neither to the county nor the
corporation, and, consequently, to have no local laws,
no police, no magistrates, no taxes, but to be paved,
lighted, and watched by the interposition of Provi-
dence. Is.not this capital ?

FELICE.-BY THE AUTHOR OF "REMINISCEN-
CES OF A MONTHLY NURSE."

(From the Sunbeam.)

FATHER ! may I come in ?" said a gentle voice at the
door of old Siward's chamber, who lived near Florence, and
was known by the name of " The Astrologer."
"Stay one moment, until I unbar the door," answered the
aged man. "There, I have just finished thy horoscope, my
child, and thy fate and mine will soon be sealed."
" Leave Heaven to work out its own design, dear father,"
said the youth, kissing the hand of the aged speculator ; "your
cheek is grown very pale from thesemidnight watchings, and
lam impatient, too, at being so much alone. When will you
take me again to the Pitti Gallery, at Florence, and let me
see once more those glorious paintings ?"
" I regret, Felix, that I ever submitted you to such wild
imagining, as those works of vanity have engendered; but
for them you would never have thought of being a painter.'.'
" Say not so, my dear father," said the impassioned youth ;
" I was born an artist—visions of beauty swam before my
mental eyes, groups of celestial loveliness I dreamed of long
before I contemplated the embodying forth of such images by
those great masters, whose deathless works I witnessed there."

"You probably never would have taken a pencil in hand,
Felix, but for that hazardous visit to Florence," replied the
Astrologer.
"And should I have been less an artist, father, then, than
now? Does not the conception more than the execution con-
stitute the true one? If any imagination has ever presented
to me equal images of brightness and of beauty, am I not a
child of genius as much as Raphael, Guido, and .Correggio ?"
" Rest then content," said the old man, smiling at seeing
that he had now entangled the boy; "what need have you,
then, to contemplate outward works of divine art, that have
such Flo wing pictures in the depths of your own mind."
" ather, that is unfair," said Felix, reddening with vexa-
tion ; " I would be an artist to others as well as to myself. I
would learn from those great men the mechanical part of the
art; how to bring out, upon the canvas, the ideas that spring
up within me. Look at that Madonna and child of.mine—
vividly and gloriously as they sprang up within my fancy,
equal in conception to any 1 have seen in Florence, perhaps
exceeding them, for spirit is more perfect in her operations
than matter, yet what wretched work have I made of them
now 1 have brought them forth! The colouring is bad; the
expression odious ; the drapery horrid. I must study, father,
or I shall never be a painter—that is, for others. When will
you take me again to Florence ?"
"This is very strange," said Siward, musingly, to himself.
" How every thing concurs to work out the designs of Destiny!
All converging to a point! It were vain attempting to in-
terrupt the course prescribed! Have I not read it there ?"
and the aged man, (more bent, it seemed, by watching and
by grief than years,) cast his eyes up towards the stars that
shone in upon them from the glazed observatory in which they
sat, resembling almost a lantborn perched on the summit of
the old house in which this interesting couple lived.
"There you go again, dear father," said Felix, with some
slight shade of impatience in his manner; "nothing but the
stars! the everlasting stars ! I have been alone all this day,
and yesterday also, because you told me you were busy calcu-
lating my horoscope, and now it is finished you are looking
up to them again. I wish—"
"Not that the stars should be extinguished, Felix ! Any-
thing but that. They are the eternal books, nothing but God
himself can destroy, and only a few gifted ones can read.
The language of those brilliant volumes, Felix, cannot be
taught in any of the colleges, nor have we dictionaries where-
with to interpret their meaniug; yet are they true and infal-
lible, as is their Maker. I said not that I had quite finished
my diagram respecting thee. There is another point, a cal-
culation respecting time, I would yet. learn—all the rest is
done."

" Nay, come below stairs now," still pressed the youth ;
"you have eaten nothing to-day, and I am faint and hungry
also, for I have had the mouth of the Madonna in and out a
hundred times within the last twelve hours, and still it is
awry. Come down to supper, and take me, to-morrow, again
to Florence."

"Another effort to fulfil his destiny !" murmured Siward
to himself ; then, speaking aloud, be said, looking fondly in
his young companion's face, " to morrow, beloved Felix, thou
shalt have thy wish ; prepare thy most gallant attire, and
bestir thyself betimes. Let Marco have every thing in order;
the mules in their gay harness, and he in his holiday jerkin.
We will away my boy to Florence and to—." The last word
died away between his teeth, or rather it never had birth.
Laying his hand on the dark brown ringlets of the graceful
youth, he fervently blessed him, and they descended together
to eat the omelette old Marco had prepared for them. At the
dawn of day, Felix adorned himself in a gay Venetian suit of
dark blue velvet, the old gentleman in a handsome one of
brown, Marco had not forgotten due embellishment to him-
self and mules; the calash was in excellent order, with plenty
of viands stowed away in the depths of its fair proportions.
After carefully locking the door of his observatory, and giving
directions to the sage Therese, his only female domestic, Si-
ward and his son proceeded on their way to Florence.
"And will you take me to the celebrated ' Hall of Anacreon,'
my dear father?" said Felix, when they were in sight of the
Arno and the superb palaces of Florence.
"To the Hall of Anacreon, Felix ! you know not what you
ask."

"Oh ! how delighted I am," said the youthful Felix; throw-
ing back the redundant ringlets that shaded his glowing coun-
tenance; "how charmed am L to find that even the divine
Raphael himself, at first, could not bring out his own brilliant
conceptions much better than myself. Look, dear father, at
that St. John of his, painted when be was a pupil of Perugino.
See how cold its colours, how stiff its design, how hard its
outline. Now look at this St. John, by the same artist, when
he had profited by the lessons of Michael Angelo, and had
studied the works of Leonardo da Vinci. Here is beauty--
here is grace—every thing that is delightful. Have I not
made out my argument, dear father, of last evening ?"
Hush, Felix, my beloved ! every eye in the gallery is
gazing on you," whispered Siward to his young companion.
" What care I for stupid gazers?" demanded Felix, with
increased animation; " How can they spare their eyes for
any sight but these? Look at that Giacondi of Da Vinci;
that Magdalene of Corregio; that Cleopatra of Guido;
that—''

"Was there ever anything on earth so beautiful as that
boy's face?" asked a young English gentleman of an elderly
one, on whose arm he leaned.

" Do you mean the Narcissus yonder, of Titian 3" replied
the one addressed. "It is certainly extremely fine !"
"My dear uncle! can you look at nothing but pictures ?"
quickly demanded the former speaker; "after all, these
boasted works of art are but faint copies of the works of na-
ture• What landscape of your favourite Claude even can equal
those sceues we have just visited ? what painting of Raphael,
or of Titian, can approach the animation and exquisite love-
liness of that living, breathing Ganymede yonder ?"
" Ganymede !" said the old earl, for such he was, "1 see
no Ganymede; you forget," he continued with a pensive
smile, "my dear Seymour, that Jove ran away with that
beautiful boy many years ago ; he must be a very old man now,
with a grey beard and sunken eyes—perhaps on crutches."
"They never grow old in Olympus, you know, my dear sir,"
continued the younger man; "so I presume his godship has
brought the exquisiteyouth back again to earth, fur never be-
fore have I seen anything so perfect!"
"You rave, Seymour," said Lord S—, " I see no such
form."

" Because that tall woman, with that horrid plume of
feathers, intercepts your sight. Look there !"
" Merciful God !" said the peer, turning deathly pale, " who
is that lovely youth? Seymour, lend me your arm; a sudden
sickness has seized me." And he retired to a distant bench
and sank down upon it.
"The stars have told me true !" murmured the old man whom
they called Astrologer. "All my calculations are right. I
have nothing to do but to sit down and watch the completion
of the work ! Yet are not they the cause of all the intrica-
cies of human life. They are but the mirrors in which the
Eternal glasses himself, or rather his operations, for to us he
is invisible, save in his works. Felix ! my child, let us go
hence to-day, for I am weary; to-morrow we will visit this
gallery again." And the father and the son retired to their
hotel.

"I am recovered now, Seymour," said L—; "let us
have another peep at your Ganymede ; shall I own my weak-
ness ? There was so striking a resemblance in that boy's fea-
tures, to the only ones I ever loved, that it has set my heart
in a tumult such as I can scarcely describe. I feel both pain
and pleasure—but I must see that boy again."
"I fear, sir, we must wait foranother opportunity, for he
is not in the gallery," said the nephew. " I think he is a stu-
dent, from the ardour. of his admiration of the paintings, anal
his intense study of their handling; we shall be sure to see
him here again."
" It may be so," replied L—, mournfully ; "but such
faces as that are seldom seen below, and then they tarry not
Long, Alas , t
"Come, Coamhile,bpirmoytotype or that young seraph we have just
p'ass'ed like a vision before my sight, and was seen no
more
speetions. dear uncle, we will have no sad retro-
e thoughts must be left in our dear, old
misty England, and 1 trust they will be buried there before
our return."
I cannot dine to-day at the Due di Centirini's, Seymour,
you must carry my excuses ;
iu
and feelings- have overleaped the eg3ni
Infgolfe m
manyome nt
years,m y thoughts
and
by a glance at a stranger. Whattime has been daily, hourly
seeking to do, to heal up, to cicatise the wounds of my heart,
has in an instant been undone—th)se wounds have burst forth;
they bleed again. Years are as nothing. Seymour, with
the
her lanladnodf, beauty,
yna 0
u rre,fihn:wme can t, I
thiannke of
re-
gard to mind or spirit. You shotld not have brought me to
eleg refinement
alntadlyth;efofirne arts;here, 7
n
any thing but
" Our present adventure, uncle, which is as interesting to
me, believe me, as yourself; so we can hunt as the pointers
do, in couples. 'To-morrow we will begin the chase of this
ytAing, boy-artist, and when we have caught him, we will
carry him with us to England. You shall be his patron,and
I his friend_he shall become a pupil of the Royal Academy,
and hear all the lectures of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Have

you, by the bye, seen the portrait of the president here at
Florence ? I assure you it is very like him. Let me show it
you now." And they went out to "The Hall of Portraits,"
full of the likenesses of eminent artists, in which hall Sir
Joshua Reynolds most justly had a place. His portrait is
still there.

"Can you obtain permission for me to copy that Leda,
father, whilst we stay here, and that Choice of Paris, by
Guido, and that Madonna and Child of Raphael, which, I
must confess„ is better executed than mine ?"
" Why how long in'all conscience, Felix, do you think of
staying here, that you want to commence so many copies?"
" How long, my dear father ! puzzle me not with that
question. I wish we had never learned the art of computing
time at all; it only throws fetters round the immortal spirit!
Why cannot we do as the birds in the air do, never think of
time at all; they sing till they are weary, rise up when the
light dawns, and go to bed when their eves are heavy ; they
care neither for seed time nor harvest, and anticipate no old
age or death."
All this is the effect of the strange education I have
given you, Felix! You know as little of the world as your
own Java sparrows," and the old man sighed. " Shut up
with a recluse like me, who had-no happiness but looking in
thy sweet face, and in those of the stars, scarcely brighter
than thy own."
" Did I dream it, father ?" enquired Felix thoughtfully,
after a pause, "or was it in one of those imaginary pictures
am ever painting, that once 1 lived in a lovely spot where
fountains played, and there a as a quantity of gold and silver
fish in a white marble bason ? Surely it must be so."
"Why do you ask me that question now, Felix? Had
you ever such a thought before?" asked Siward.
"Never, till yesterday; when, looking at the fountain of
the Lion's Head here at Florence, it semed to strike some
chord long silent in my memory. It seemed as if I had in
my infancy stood beneath the sprinkling of the waters com-
ing from the mouth and nostrils of an enormous sea-horse ;
and then, too, I seemed to recollect that I had often fed with
bread some beautiful fishes that lived in a small marble lake
or reservoir. I suppose the whole was but fancy's sketch!"
"No, Felix," said his father, impressively and sadly;
"the fountain of the colossal sea-horse, and the marble vase
in whieh fish disported, were both realities."
" I could have sworn so," answered Felix : "they have
come out so in strong relief since we have been talking of
them. The pictures of the imagination generally fade away
as do the colours of a rainbow."
" Do you recollect nothing else of early associations but
this fountain and this marble bason, Felix'?" asked Siward,
fixing his Penetrating dark eye upon him.
" Oh yes, but I had better not tell you of it, father," said
the youth, with a look of much embarrassment.
"And why not, my child ? Speak openly."
"Because," answered Felix, hesitating, "I once before,
yes, many years ago, happened to tell you of this remem-
brance, (as I thought it,) when it threw you, father, into the
most dreadful agitation, nay, of anguiSh. You were very ill
in consequence, and so I resolved never to allude to the
thing again."
" Dear, amiable child !" said Siward, fondly, "I can bear
it now. Tell me of your remembrance."
"1 am afraid to trust you, father," said Felix, playfully;
" I am not sure that you calculate so well about your own
feelings as about the stars, you know—there you are infia-
lible !" and an arch smile hovered upon that perfect lip.
"Thou sayest right there, boy, they are infallible !" re-
sponded the father; "and that shall be fully proved; but I
must have my question answered, sly Felix! You would
lead me from my point, by talking of heaven's books, to me
their seer. I have found out the pious fraud. Come, tell
me."

" Dust thou command me, father ?" said the youth, sub.
missively.

"Ave, my heart's darling! I wish it, and that has ever
been as a command to thee."

"I recollect then," said the youth, sinking on his knee on
a small stool that stood close to Siward, and with a height-
ened colour on his cheek, "yes, I recollect my mother."
" What was she like?" inquired the old man, much agi-
tated.

" Like one of Guido's angels," and the boy looked in-
spired.
" She was indeed," said Siward fervently, "and she was to
have been my own; but an Englishman, a British peer, saw
her and stole her from me. He possessed the original. I
found an opportunity, and I stole from him the copy. Thou
art her perfect resemblance—and the sight of thee, from in-
fancy upward, has saved my reason. Fearful of losing my
treasure, I disguised thee as a boy, and kept thee secretly
within my secluded home. I need not tell thee how I have
loved thee, Felice, for that is thy woman's name."
"Then thou art not my father, and I am an orphan indeed,"
cried the weeping Felix, throwing himself into Siward's
arms.
" The stars say otherwise, my beloved !" said the old man,
emphatically ; "thy true father and thy future husband were
both in the same room with thee yesterday. They are seek-
ing thee at this moment, and I must not stop the workings of
destiny; but thou must promise to give me a copy of thyself,
and her thy future offspring. Promise! said I ? It is decreed."
And all turned out as Siward said. Lord L reco-
vered his only child ; her cousin, Seymour, married her, and
Siward claimed, as exclusively his own, the second child
born of that union, but he carried it not to Italy, but lived
with it in England, and made it his heir.