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"He is a very devil, your highness!" exclaimed an old nobleman-(saving your Highness's presence)-" or wants but a tail to be so !"

"Say, rather he should be some famished poet, by his appetite," replied the Prince laughing. "But there must be some juggling; he spills all his wine, and hides the provisions under his robe." Even while they were speaking, the yellow domino entered the room in which they were talking; and, as usual, proceeded to the table of refreshments.

"See here, my lord!" cried one-" I have seen him do this thrice !"

"I, twice!"-"I, five times !""and I fifteen."

This was too much. The master of the ceremonies was questioned. He knew nothing-and the yellow domino was interrupted As he was carrying a bumper of claret to his lips.

"The Prince's desire is, that Monsieur who wears the yellow domino should unmask."-The stranger hesitated.

"The command with which his Highness honours Monsieur perfectly absolute."

Against that which is absolute there is no contending.-The yellow man threw off his mask and domino; and proved to be a private trooper of the Irish dragoons!

"And in the name of gluttony, my good friend, (not to ask how you gained admission,) how have you contrived," said the Prince, "to sup to-night so many times?"

"Sire, I was but beginning to sup, with reverence be it said, when your royal message interrupted me."

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Beginning!" exclaimed the Dauphin in amazement, "then what is it I have heard and seen? Where are the herds of oxen that have disappeared, and the hampers of Burgundy? I insist upon knowing how this is!"

"It is, Sire," returned the soldier, "may it please your Grace, that the troop to which I belong is to-day on guard. We have purchased one ticket among us, and provided this yellow domino, which fits us all. By which means the whole of the front rank, being myself the last man, have supped, if the truth must be told, at discretion; and the leader of the rear rank, saving your Highness's commands, is now waiting outside the door to take his turn."

THE CROOKED STICK,

BY MRS S. C. HALL.*

"And took the crooked stick at last ?"
"Even so."

I HAVE rarely known any one, of either sex, who deliberated upon the matrimonial question until their hair silvered, and their eye dimmed, and then became numbered among the "newly wed," who did not, according to the old story, "take the crooked stick at last." All, doubtless, will remember the tale, how the maiden was sent into a green and beautiful lane, garnished on either side by tall and well-formed trees, and directed to choose, cut, and carry off, the most straight and seemly branch she could find. She might, if she pleased, wander on to the end, but her choice must be made there, if not made before--the power of retracing her steps, without the stick, being forbidden. Straight and fair to look upon were the charming boughs of the lofty trees-fit scions of such noble ancestry! and each would have felt honoured by her preference; but the silly maid went on, and on, and on, and thought within herself, that at the termination of her journey she could find as perfect a stick as any of those which then courted her acceptance. By and by, the aspect of things changed; and the branches she now encountered were cramped and scragged-disfigured with blurs and unseemly warts. And when she arrived at the termination of her journey, behold! one miserable, blighted wand, the most deformed she had ever beheld, was all that remained within her reach. Bitter was the punishment of her indecision and caprice. She was obliged to take the crooked stick, and return with her hateful choice, amid the taunts and the sneers of the straight tall trees, who, according to the fashion of the good old fairy times, were endowed not only with feeling and reason, but with speech!

Many, I fear me, are the crooked sticks which "the ancient of days," by a strange infatuation, compel themselves to adopt. And much might be gravely and properly said upon this subject, for the edification of young and old; but the following will be better than grave discussion, and more to the tastes of those who value scenes from real life:

"Lady Frances Hazlitt, Charles! Surely the most fastidious might pronounce her handsome ?"

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My dear fellow, you must permit me to correct your taste.

* From the Edinburgh Literary Journal.'

Observe, I pray you, the short chin, and that unfortunate nose; it is absolutely retrousse.

"It may be a little opposed to the line of beauty-calculated to overset it, perhaps; but did you ever see such a glorious brow?" "Mountainous!"

"Such expressive eyes?"

"Volcanoes!"

"Psha!-Such grace?"

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'Harry,” replied the young nobleman, smiling according to the most approved Chesterfield principle, removing his eyeglass, and looking at his friend with much composure, 'you had better, I think, marry Lady Frances yourself."

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"You are a strange being, my good lord," replied his friend, after a pause. "I would wager a good round sum, that, notwithstanding your rank, fortune, and personal advantages, you will die, or, at all events, not marry until you are-a veritable old bachelor. I pray thee, tell me, what do you require ?-A Venus ?-A Diana? -A Juno?-A-a

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"Simply, a woman, my dear fellow; not indeed one of those beings arrr.yed in drapery, whom you see moving along our streets, with Chir se feathers, smoke-dried skins, and limbs that might rival those of a Hercules; nor yet one of your be-scented, spiderwaisted priminies, who lisp and amble-assume a delicacy which they never felt, and grace which they never possessed. My ideas of woman's perfections--of the perfections, in fact, which I desire, and-I may say"-(Lord Charles Villiers was certainly a very handsome and a very fashionable man, and yet his modesty, I suppose, made him hesitate in pronouncing the latter word)—" I may -I-think-say-deserve," gaining courage as he proceeded, " are not as extravagant as those required by your favourite Henri Quatre. He insisted on seven perfections. I should feel blessed, if the lady of my love were possessed of six."

"Moderate and modest," observed his friend, laughing. "I pray you, tell me what they are ?"

"Noble birth, beauty, prudence, wit, gentleness, and fidelity.” Sir Harry Beauclerc drew forth his tablets, and on the corner of the curiously-wrought memorials, engraved the qualities Lord Charles had enumerated, not with fragile lead, but with the sharp point of his pen-knife. “Shall I add," he inquired, "that these requisites are indispensable ?"

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Most undoubtedly," replied his lordship.

"Adieu, then, Charles-Lady Frances's carriage is returning, and as you declare fairly off, I truly tell you that I will try to make an impression on her gentle heart; you certainly were first in the

field, but as you are insensible to such merit, I cannot think you either deserve to win or wear it. Adieu! au revoir!" And with a deeper and more prolonged salute than the present courtesies of life are supposed to require, the two young fashionables separated -one lounging listlessly towards the then narrow and old-fashioned gate which led from Hyde Park into Piccadilly, trolling snatches of the last cavatina, which the singing of a Mara or a Billington had rendered fashionable; the other proceeding, with the firm and animated step that tells plainly of a fixed purpose, to meet the respectable family carriage, graced by the really charming Frances, only daughter of the Earl of Heaptown.

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To look forward for a period of five-and-twenty years blanches many a fair cheek, and excites the glow of hope and enthusiasm in those of vigorous and determined character; while the beauty trembles for her empire-the statesman for his place-the monarch even for his throne-those who have nothing to lose, and every thing to gain, regard the future as an undefinable something pregnant with light and life; to such, diamond-like are the sands that sparkle in the hour-glass of Time, while the withered hand which holds the mystic vessel, is unheeded or unseen. So be it-so, doubtless, it is best. One of the choicest blessings bestowed by the Creator on the creature, is a hopeful spirit!

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Five-and-twenty summers had passed over the brow of Lord Charles Villiers since Sir Harry Beauclerc noted on his tablet the six indispensable qualities the young nobleman would require in his wife. The lord still remained an unmarried, and an admired man, seeking to find some lady worthy his affections. It is too true that some of the young creatures, just come out, on whose cheek the blush of innocence and modesty still glowed, and whose untutored cyes prated most earnestly of what passed in the sacred citadel, called heart-such creatures, say, did discover, to the sad annoyance of their speculating mothers, and sensible-(Heaven bless the word!)-sensible chaperons, that Lord Charles's once beautiful hair was now indebted to "the Tyrian dye" for its gloss and hue; and that, moreover, a most ingenious scalp mixed its artificial ringlets with his once exquisite curls, that the belles (whom a few years had rendered staid mammas, and even grand-I cannot finish the horrid word) used to call, in playful poetry, "Cupid's bowstrings!" Then his figure had grown rotund; he sat long after dinner, prided himself upon securing a cook fully equal to Ude-(I write it with all possible respect)-equal to Eustache Ude

in his best days; descanted upon the superiority of pheasant dressed en galantine, to that served in aspic jelly; and gained immortal honour at a committee of taste, by adding a most piquant and delightful ingredient to Mr Dolby's "Sauce a l'Aurore." These gastronomical propensities are sure symptoms of increasing years and changing constitution; but there were other characteristics of "old boyishness" about Lord Charles, which noted him as a delightful gentleman "of a certain age." A rich silk handkerchief was always carefully folded, and placed within the bosom of his exquisitely made Stultz, ready to wrap round his throat when he quitted the delightful crush-room of the delightful Opera, to ascend his carriage; then an occasional twinge reminded him of the existence of gout-a most unpleasant reminiscence in the galopade, which he was hardy—I had almost said fool-hardy-enough to attempt. Had he not been so perfectly well bred, he would have been considered touchy and testy; the excellent discipline of the old school fortunately preserved him from those bachelor-like crimes, at all events in ladies' society; and whatever spleen he had, he wisely only vented on those who could not return it; namely, his poor relations, his servants, and occasionally, but not often, (for he was a member of the society for preventing cruelty to animals,) on his dogs and horses. However, his figure was as erect, if not as graceful, as ever; and many a fair lady sighed at the bare idea of his enduring to the end in single misery.

Sir Harry Beauclerc never visited London except during the sitting of Parliament; and it was universally allowed that he discharged his duties as M. P. for his native county with zeal and independence. Wonderful to say, he neither ratted nor sneaked; and yet Whigs, Tories, and Radicals, treated him with deference and respect. He had long been the husband of her, who, when our sketch was commenced, was known as Lady Frances Hazlitt; and it would be rare to behold a more charming assembly of handsome and happy faces than their fire-side circle presented at the celebration of merry Christmas. The younger portion of this family were noisily and busily occupied at a game of forfeits, while those who considered themselves the elders of the juvenile set, sate gravely discussing matters of domestic or public interest with their parents, when a thundering peal at the portal announced the arrival of some benighted visitor. I am not about to introduce a hero of romance at such an unseemly hour,-only our old acquaintance Lord Charles, who claimed the hospitality of his friend as protection against an impending snow-storm. When the family had retired for the night, a bottle of royal Burgundy was placed on the table as the sleeping-cup of the host and his guest;

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