Chapter M: GUIZOT has addressed a long letter to each of the five classes (1)

of the Institute of France, to declare that he cannot accept the candidateship offered him for a seat in the Superior Council of Public Instruction.

* * * * *

SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON is to be a candidate for the House of Commons, with Col. Sibthorp, for Lincoln. He has a new play forthcoming for the Princess's Theatre.

* * * * *

MISS STRICKLAND has in preparation a series of volumes on the Queens of Scotland, as a companion to her, interesting and successful work on the Queens of England.

* * * * *

THE MARQUIS DE FOUDRAS has published _Un Caprice de Grande Dame_--clever, but as corrupt as her other works.

* * * * *

MR. HERBERT'S NEW BOOKS.--The _Southern Quarterly Review_ for July has the following notice of "Frank Forester's Fish and Fishing in the United States and British Provinces," recently published by Stringer & Townsend:

"There are few of our writers so variously endowed and accomplished as Mr. Herbert; of a mind easily warmed and singularly enthusiastic, the natural bent of his talent inclines him to romance. He has accordingly given us several stories abounding in stately scenes, and most impressive portraiture. Well skilled in the use of the mother tongue, as in the broad fields of classical literature, he has written essays of marked eloquence, and criticisms of excellent discrimination and a keen and thorough insight. His contributions to our periodicals have been even more happy than his fictions. With a fine imagination, he inherits a _penchant_ and a capacity for poetry, which has enabled him to throw off, without an effort, some of the most graceful fugitive effusions which have been written in America. His accomplishments are as various as his talents. He can paint a landscape as sweetly as he can describe it in words. He is a sportsman of eager impulse, and relishes equally well the employments of the fisherman and hunter. He is a naturalist, as well as a sportsman, and brings, to aid his practice and experience, a large knowledge, from study, of the habits of birds, beasts and fishes. He roves land and sea in this pursuit, forest and river, and turns, with equal ease and readiness, from a close examination of Greek and Roman literature, to an emulous exercise of all the arts which have afforded renown to the aboriginal hunter. The volume before us--one of many which he has given to this subject--is one of singular interest to the lover of the rod and angle. It exhibits, on every page, a large personal knowledge of the finny tribes in all the northern portions of our country, and well deserves the examination of those who enjoy such pursuits and pastimes. The author's pencil has happily illustrated the labors of his pen. His portraits of the several fishes of the United States are exquisitely well done and truthful. It is our hope, in future pages, to furnish an ample review of this, and other interesting volumes, of similar character, from the hand of our author. We have drawn to them the attention of some rarely endowed persons of our own region, who, like our author, unite the qualities of the writer and the sportsman; from whom we look to learn in what respects the habits and characters of northern fish differ from our own, and thus supply the deficiency of the work before us. The title of this work is rather too general. The author's knowledge of the fish, and of fishing, in the United States, is almost wholly confined to the regions north of the Chesapeake, and he falls into the error, quite too common to the North, of supposing this region to be the whole country. Another each volume as that before us will be necessary to do justice to the Southern States, whose possessions, in the finny tribes of sea and river, are of a sort to shame into comparative insignificance all the boasted treasures of the North. It would need but few pages in our review, from the proper hands, to render this very apparent to the reader. Meanwhile, we exhort him to seek the book of Mr. Herbert, as a work of much interest and authority, so far as it goes."

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MR. PUTNAM is preparing some elegantly embellished works for the holiday season. Among others, an edition, in octavo, of Miss Fenimore Cooper's charming _Rural Hours_, embellished by twenty finely-colored drawings of birds and flowers; _The Picturesque Souvenir_, or Letters of a Traveler in Europe and America, by Bryant, embellished by a series of finely-executed engravings; and _The Alhambra_, by Washington Irving, with designs by Darley, uniform with the splendid series of Mr. Irving's Illustrated Works, some time in course of publication. We have also seen a specimen copy of a superbly illustrated edition of _The Pilgrim's Progress_, printed on cream-colored paper, as smooth as ivory; and the exquisite designs by Harvey, nearly three hundred in number, are among the most effective ever attempted for the elucidation of this first of all allegories. Professor Sweetser's new work, _Menial Hygiene_, or an Examination of the Intellect and Passions, designed to illustrate their Influence on Health and the Duration of Life, will be published in the course of the present month. Professor Church's _Treatise on Integral and Differential Calculus_, a revised edition; _The Companion_, or _After Dinner Table Talk_, by Chelwood Evelyn, with a fine portrait of Sydney Smith; _The History of Propellers, and Steam Navigation_, illustrated by engravings: a manual, said to combine much valuable information on the subjects, derived from the most authentic sources, by Mr. Robert MacFarlane, editor of the _Scientific American_; and Mr. Ridner's _Artist's Chromatic Hand-Book, or Manual of Colors_, will also be speedily issued by the same publisher. Mr. Putnam's own production, _The World's Progress, or Dictionary of Dates_, containing a comprehensive manual of reference in facts, or epitome of historical and general statistical knowledge, with a corrected chronology, &c., is expected to appear in a few weeks. Mr. Theodore Irving's _Conquest of Florida_ is also in progress.

* * * * *

It is said that Meyerbeer has already completed a grand opera with the title of _L'Africaine_, and is now engaged on a comic opera. This is probably nothing more than one of the trumpets which this composer knows so well how to blow beforehand. Meyerbeer is not greater in music than in the art of tickling public expectation and keeping the public aware of his existence.

* * * * *

The _Lorgnette_ has just appeared in a volume.

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RECENT DEATHS.

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AUGUSTUS WILLIAM NEANDER.

OF this most eminent Christian scholar of the nineteenth century, _The Tribune_ furnishes the following brief sketch. "The name of JOHANN AUGUST WILHELM NEANDER is familiar to a large number of our countrymen, both on account of his important contributions to the science of theology, and his personal intimacy with many of our eminent scholars, who have enjoyed the benefit of his instructions, or who have made his acquaintance while pursuing their travels in Germany. Although he had attained a greater age than might have been anticipated from his habits as a confirmed invalid, being in his sixty-second year, his decease cannot be announced without causing an emotion of surprise and regret to a numerous circle who recognized in him one of the most faithful and conscientious Christian teachers of the present day.

"NEANDER, as it is well known, was descended from Jewish parents, by whom he was instructed in the rudiments of religion, and at a subsequent period of life became a convert to the Christian faith, by personal inquiry and experience. He was born at Göttingen, in 1789, but passed a considerable portion of his youth at Hamburg, where he was initiated into the rudiments of a classical education. After he had made a profession of Christianity, he continued his studies for a short time at the Universities of Halle and Göttingen, returned to Hamburg, and finally completed his University career at Heidelberg. The following year he was called to the University of Berlin, as Professor of Theology, where he soon gave promise of the brilliant eminence which he has since attained. His first publications were on special topics of ecclesiastical history, including treatises on 'The Emperor Julian and his Age,' 'St. Bernard and his Age,' 'The Development of the Principal Systems of the Gnostics,' 'St. Chrysostom and the Church in his Age,' and 'The Spirit of Tertullian,' with an 'Introduction to his Writings.' These treatises are remarkable monuments of diligence, accuracy, profoundness of research and breadth of comprehension, showing the same intellectual qualities which were afterward signally exhibited in the composition of his masterly volumes on the history of the Christian Religion. His earliest production in this department had for its object to present the most important facts in Church history, in a form adapted to the great mass of readers, without aiming at scientific precision or completeness. This attempt was eminently successful. The first volume of his great work entitled 'General History of the Church and the Christian Religion,' was published in 1825, and it was not till twenty years afterward that the work was brought to a close. The appearance of this work formed a new epoch in ecclesiastical history. It at once betrayed the power of a bold and original mind. Instead of consisting of a meager and arid collection of facts, without scientific order, without any vital coherence or symmetry, and without reference to the cardinal elements of Christian experience, the whole work, though singularly chaste and subdued in its tone, throbs with the emotions of genuine life, depicting the influence of Christianity as a school for the soul, and showing its radiant signatures of Divinity in its moral triumphs through centuries.

"His smaller work on the first development of Christianity in the Apostolic Age is marked by the same spirited characteristics, while his 'Life of Jesus' is an able defense of the historical verity of the sacred narrative against the ingenious and subtle suggestions of Strauss.

"The writings and theological position of NEANDER have been fully brought before the American public by Profs. ROBINSON, TORREY, McCLINTOCK, SEARS, and other celebrated scholars who have done much to diffuse a knowledge of the learned labors of Germany among intelligent thinkers in our own country. NEANDER was free from the reproach which attaches to so many of his fellow laborers, of covertly undermining the foundation of Christianity, under the pretense of placing it on a philosophical basis. His opinions are considered strictly evangelical, though doubtless embodied in a modified form. In regard to the extent and soundness of his learning, the clearness of his perceptions, and the purity and nobleness of his character, there can be but one feeling among those who are qualified to pronounce a judgment on the subject.

"NEANDER was never married. He was the victim of almost constant ill health. In many of his personal habits he was peculiar and eccentric. With the wisdom of a sage, he combined the simplicity of a child. Many amusing anecdotes are related of his oddities in the lecture-room, which will serve to enliven the biography that will doubtless be prepared at an early date. We have received no particulars concerning his death, which is said to have been announced by private letters to friends in Boston."

* * * * *

JACOB JONES, U.S.N.

COMMODORE JACOB JONES, of the United States Navy, died in Philadelphia on the 6th inst. He was born in Smyrna, Kent county, Delaware, in the year 1770, and was therefore, eighty years of age. He was of an eminently respectable family, and commenced life as a physician, having studied the profession at the University of Pennsylvania. He afterward became clerk of the Supreme Court of Delaware for his native county. When about twenty-nine years old he entered the navy, and made his first cruises under Commodore Barry. He was a midshipman on board the frigate United States, when she bore to France Chief Justice Ellsworth and General Davie, as envoys extraordinary to the French Republic. He was next appointed to the Ganges as midshipman. On the breaking out of the war with Tripoli, he was stationed on the frigate Philadelphia, under Commodore Bainbridge. The disaster which befell that ship and her crew before Tripoli, forms a solemn page in our naval history; atoned, however, by the brilliant achievements to which it gave rise. Twenty months of severe captivity among a barbarous people, and in a noxious climate, neither broke the spirit nor impaired the constitution of Jones. Blest by nature with vigorous health and an invincible resolution, when relieved from bondage by the bravery of his countrymen, he returned home full of life and ardor. He was soon after promoted to a lieutenancy. He was now for some time employed on the Orleans station, where he conducted himself with his usual judgment and propriety, and was a favorite in the polite circles of the Orleans and Mississippi territories. He was shortly after appointed to the command of the brig Argus, stationed for the protection of our commerce on the southern maritime frontier. In this situation he acted with vigilance and fidelity, and though there were at one time insidious suggestions to the contrary, it has appeared that he conformed to his instructions, promoted the public interest, and gave entire satisfaction to the government. In 1811, he was transferred to the command of the sloop-of-war Wasp, mounting eighteen twenty-four pound carronades, and dispatched, in the spring of 1812, with communications to the courts of St. Cloud and St. James. Before he returned, war had been declared against Great Britain. He refitted his ship with all possible dispatch, and repaired to sea, but met with no other good fortune than the capture of an inconsiderable prize. He next sailed from Philadelphia on the 13th of October, and on the 18th of the same month encountered a heavy gale, during which the Wasp lost her jibboom and two seamen. On the following night, the watch discovered five strange sail steering eastward. The Wasp hauled to the windward and closely watched their movements until daylight next morning, when it was found that they were six large merchant vessels under convoy of a sloop of war. The former were well manned, two of them mounting sixteen guns each. Notwithstanding the apparent disparity of force. Captain Jones determined to hazard an attack; and as the weather was boisterous, and the swell of the sea unusually high, he ordered down top-gallant yards, closely reefed the top-sails, and prepared for action. We cannot give a detail of this brilliant engagement, which resulted in the capture of the Frolic. It was one of the most daring and determined actions in our naval history. The force of the Frolic consisted of sixteen thirty-two pound carronades, four twelve-pounders on the maindeck, and two twelve-pound carronades. Both vessels had more men than was essential to their efficiency; but while there was an equality of strength in the crews, there was an inequality in the number of guns and weight of metal--the Frolic having four twelve-pounders more than the Wasp. The exact number of killed and wounded on board the Frolic could not be ascertained with any degree of precision; but, from the admissions of the British officers, it was supposed that their loss in killed was about thirty, including two officers, and in wounded, between forty and fifty. The captain and every other officer on board were more or less severely wounded. The Wasp sustained a loss of only five men killed, and five wounded.

While erecting jurymasts on board the Frolic, soon after, a suspicious sail was seen to windward, upon which Captain Jones directed Lieutenant Biddle to shape her course for Charleston, or any other port of the United States, while the Wasp should continue upon her cruise. The sail coming down rapidly, both vessels prepared for action, but it was soon discovered, to the mortification of the victors in this well-fought action, that the new enemy was a seventy-four, which proved to be the Poictiers, commanded by Admiral Beresford. Firing a shot over the Frolic, she passed her, and soon overhauled the Wasp, which, in her crippled state, was unable to escape. Both vessels were thus captured, and carried into Bermuda. After a few weeks, a cartel was proposed by which the officers and crew of the Wasp were conveyed to New York. On the return of Captain Jones to the United States, he was everywhere received with demonstrations of respect for the skill and gallantry displayed in his combat with the enemy. The legislature of Delaware gave him a vote of thanks, and a piece of plate. On the motion of James A. Bayard, of Delaware, Congress appropriated twenty-five thousand dollars, as a compensation to the commander, his officers, and crew, for the loss they had sustained by the recapture of the Frolic. They also voted a gold medal to the Captain, and a silver medal to each of his commissioned officers. As a farther evidence of the confidence of government, Captain Jones was ordered to the command of the frigate Macedonian, recently captured from the British by Decatur. She was rapidly fitted out under his direction, in the harbor of New York, and proposed for one of Decatur's squadron, which was about to sail on another expedition. In May 1811, the squadron attempted to put to sea, but, in sailing up Long Island Sound, encountered a large British force, which compelled the United States vessels to retreat into New London. In this situation the enemy continued an uninterrupted blockade during the war. Finding it impossible to avoid the vigilance of Sir Thomas Hardy, who commanded the blockading fleet, the government ordered Captain Jones to proceed with his officers and crew to Sackett's Harbor, and report to Commodore Chauncey, as commander of the frigate Mohawk, on lake Ontario. There the Americans maintained an ascendency, and continued to cruise until October, when the British squadron, under Sir James Yeo, left Kingston, with a greatly superior force, which caused the United States squadron to return to Sackett's Harbor. It seemed, indeed, that the contest now depended on the exertions of the ship carpenters. Two line of battle ships were placed on the stocks, and were advancing rapidly to completion, when, in February 1815, the news of peace arrived, with orders to suspend further operations on these vessels. A few weeks after the peace was announced, Captain Jones with his officers and crew was ordered to repair to the seaboard, and again to take command of the Macedonian, to form part of the force against the Algerines, then depredating on our commerce in the Mediterranean. As soon as the Algerian Regency was informed that war existed between the United States and Great Britain, the Dey dispatched his cruisers to capture all American merchant vessels. To punish these freebooters, nine or ten vessels were fitted out and placed under Decatur. This armament sailed from New York in May, 1815, and when off Cadiz was informed that the Algerines were along the southern coast of Spain. Two days after reaching the Mediterranean, the United States squadron fell in with and captured the Algerine frigate Messuado, mounting forty-six guns, and the next day captured a large brig of war, both of which were carried into the port of Carthagena, in Spain. The American squadron then proceeded to the bay of Algiers, where its sudden and unexpected appearance excited no slight surprise and alarm in the Regency. The Dey reluctantly yielded to every demand to him; he restored the value of the property belonging to American merchants which he had seized, released all the prisoners he had captured, and relinquished forever all claims on the annual tribute which he had received. After having thus terminated the war with Algiers, and formed an advantageous treaty, the squadron proceeded to other Barbary capitals, and adjusted some minor difficulties, which, however, were of importance to our merchants. After touching at several of the islands in the Mediterranean, at Naples, and at Malaga, the entire force came back to the United States early in December. From this period till his death, no event of much importance distinguished the career of Commodore Jones. He was, however, almost constantly employed in various responsible positions, his appointment to which evinced the confidence government placed in his talents and discretion. In 1821, he took the command of a squadron, for the protection of our trade in the Mediterranean, in which he continued for three years. On his return he was offered a seat in the Board of Navy Commissioners, but, finding bureau duties irksome, he accepted, in 1826, the command of our navy in the Pacific, where he also continued three years, Afterward he was placed in command of the Baltimore station, where he remained, with the exception of a short interval, until transferred to the harbor of New York. Since 1847, he had held the place of Governor of the United States Naval Asylum, on the Schuylkill, near Philadelphia.

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JULIA BETTERTON GLOVER.

An actress who has been admired and respected by three generations of play-goers has quitted the stage of life in the person of Mrs. Glover. The final exit was somewhat sudden, as it seemed to the general public; but it was anticipated by her friends. A friendly biographer in the _Morning Chronicle_ explains the circumstances; first referring to the extraordinary manifestations of public feeling which attended Mrs. Glover's last farewell, at Drury-Lane Theater, on Friday, the 12th of July.

"In our capacity of spectators we did not then see occasion to mention what had otherwise come to our knowledge--that the evidences of extreme suffering manifested by Mrs. Glover on that evening--her inability to go through her part, except as a mere shadow of her former self, and the substitution of an apologetic speech from Mr. Leigh Murray for the address which had been written for her by a well-known and talented amateur of the drama--arose not merely from the emotion natural on a farewell night, after more than half a century of active public service, but also from extreme physical debility, the result of an attack of illness of a wasting character, which had already confined that venerable lady to her bed for many days. In fact, it was only the determination of Mrs. Glover herself not to disappoint the audience, who had been invited and attracted for many weeks before, that overruled the remonstrances of her friends and family against her appearing at all. She was then utterly unfit to appear on the stage in her professional character, and the most serious alarm was felt lest there should be some sudden and fatal catastrophe. The result of the struggle of feeling she then underwent, superadded as it was to the physical causes which had undermined her strength, was, that Mrs. Glover sunk under the disease which had been consuming her, and quitted this life on Monday night."

Mrs. Glover, born Julia Betterton, was daughter of an actor named Betterton, who held a good position on the London stage toward the close of the last century. She is said to have been a lineal descendant of the great actor of the same name. Her birthday was the 8th January, 1781. Brought up, as most of our great actors and actresses have been, "at the wings," she was even in infancy sent on the stage in children's parts. She became attached to the company of Tate Wilkinson, for whom she played, at York, the part of the _Page_ in _The Orphan_; and she also exercised her juvenile talents in the part of _Tom Thumb_, for the benefit of George Frederick Cooke, who on the occasion doffed his tragic garb and appeared in the character of _Glumdalcar_. Another character which she played successfully with Cooke was that of the little _Duke of York_ in _Richard the Third_; into which, it is recorded, she threw a degree of spirit and childish roguishness that acted as a spur on the great tragedian himself, who never performed better than when seconded by his childish associate. In 1796 she had attained such a position in the preparatory school of the provincial circuits, chiefly at Bath, that she was engaged at Covent Garden; in the first instance at £10 a week, and ultimately for five years at £15 a week, rising to £20; terms then thought "somewhat extraordinary and even exorbitant". Miss Betterton first appeared in London in October 1797, fifty-three years ago, as _Elvira_, in Hannah More's tragedy of _Percy_. Her success was great; and in a short time she had taken such a hold of popular favor, that when Mrs. Abington returned for a brief period to the stage, Miss Betterton held her ground against the rival attraction, and even secured the admiration of Mrs. Abington herself. Her subsequent engagements were at Drury-Lane and Covent-Garden alternately, till she made that long engagement at the Haymarket, during which she has become best known to the present generation of playgoers. Her more recent brief engagement with Mr. Anderson, at Drury-Lane, and her last one with Mr. W. Farren, at the Strand Theater, whither she contributed so much to attract choice audiences, are fresh in the memory of metropolitans. Looking back to Mrs. Glover's "long and brilliant career upon the stage, we may pronounce her one of the most extraordinary women and accomplished actresses that have ever graced the profession of the drama." Mrs. Glover had a daughter, Phillis, a very clever young actress, at the Haymarket Theater, who has been dead several years. Her two sons are distinguished, the one as a popular musical composer, and the other as a clever tragedian--the latter with considerable talent, also, as an amateur painter.

A London correspondent of the _Spirit of the Times_ gives an interesting account of the Glover benefit, and the "last scenes."

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MADAME GAVAUDAN is dead. To many it will be necessary to explain that Madame Gavaudan was, in her time, one of the most favorite singing-actresses and acting songstresses belonging to the _Opéra Comique_ of Paris; and that, after many years of popularity, she retired from the stage in 1823.

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GENERAL BERTHAND, Baron de Sivray, died early in July at Luc, in France, in the eighty-fourth year of his age. He was an officer before the first revolution, and served through all the wars of the Republic and the Empire.

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ROBERT R. BAIRD, a son of the Rev. Dr. Baird, and a young man of amiable character and considerable literary abilities, which had been illustrated for the most part, we believe, in translation, was drowned in the North River at Yonkers on Tuesday evening, the 6th instant, about seven o'clock. The deceased had gone into the water to bathe in company with several others, and was carried by the rising tide into deep water, where, as he could swim but little, he sunk to rise no more, before help could reach him. This premature and sudden death has overwhelmed his parents and friends in the deepest distress. He was twenty-five years old.

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THE DEATH OF MR. S. JOSEPH, the sculptor, known by his statue of Wilberforce in Westminster Abbey and his statue of Wilkie in the National Gallery, is mentioned in the English papers. His busts exhibit a fine perception of character, and many a delicate grace in the modeling. Mr. Joseph was long a resident in Edinburgh. He modeled a bust of Sir Walter Scott about the same time that Chantrey modeled his--that bust which best preserves to us the features and character of the great novelist.

* * * * *

JAMES WRIGHT, author of the _Philosophy of Elocution_ and other works chiefly of a religious character, died at Brighton, England, on the 9th of July, aged 68.

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SIR THOMAS WILDE, who has just been promoted to the Woolsack, as Baron Truro, we learn from the _Illustrated News_, was born in 1782. After practicing as an attorney, he was called to the bar by the Honorable Society of the Inner Temple, the 7th February, 1817. He joined the Western Circuit, and soon rose into considerable practice. His knowledge of the law, combined with his great eloquence, made him one of the most successful advocates of his time. He was for many years the confidential and legal adviser of the late Alderman Sir Matthew Wood, and his connection with that gentleman caused him to be engaged as one of the senior counsel for the Queen on the celebrated trial of Queen Caroline. Though surrounded by rivals of the highest eminence and the brightest fame, Wilde always stood among the foremost, and obtained briefs in some of the greatest causes ever tried. For instance, he was engaged on the winning side in the famous action of Small v. Atwood, in which his fees are said to have amounted to something enormous. In 1824 he became a sergeant-at-law; and he was appointed King's Sergeant in 1827, and Solicitor-General in 1839, when he received the honor of knighthood. In 1841 he first became Attorney-General; and after a second time holding that office, he succeeded the late Sir Nicholas Conyngham Tindal, as Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas. His recent appointment as Lord Chancellor places him at the very summit of his profession.

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[FROM THE _LONDON LADIES' COMPANION_.]

THE MORNING SONG.

BY BARRY CORNWALL.

A new "English Song," by Barry Cornwall, is now--more's the pity--a too rare event in the musical year. We are at once doing our readers a pleasure, and owning a welcome kindness, in publishing, by the author's permission, these words, set by M. Benedict, and sung by Madame Sontag.

The world is waking into light;
The dark and sullen night hath flown:
Life lives and re-assumes its might,
And nature smiles upon her throne.
And the Lark,
Hark!
_She_ gives welcome to the day,
In a merry, merry, lay,
Tra la!--lira, lira, lira, la!

Soft sounds are sailing through the air;
Sweet sounds are springing from the stream;
And fairest things, where all is fair,
Join gently in the grateful theme.
And the Lark, &c., &c.

The morn, the morn is in the skies;
The reaper singeth from the corn;
The shepherd on the hills replies;
And all things now salute the morn,
Even the Lark, &c., &c.

* * * * *

[FROM ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL.]

A LESSON.

If society ever be wholly corrupted, it will be by the idea that it is already so. Some cynics believe in virtue, sincerity, and happiness, only as traditions of the past, and by ridicule seek to propagate the notion. This vain and pedantic philosophy would turn all hearts to stone, and arm every man with suspicion against all others, declaiming against the romance of life, as empty sentimentalism; against the belief in goodness, as youth's sanguine folly; and the hope of pure happiness, as a fanciful dream, created by a young imagination, to be dissipated by the teaching of a few years' struggle with the world.

If this be wisdom, I am no philosopher, and I never wish to be one; for sooner would I float upon the giddy current of fancy, to fall among quicksands at last, than travel through a dull and dreary world, without confidence in my companions. That we may be happy, that we may find sincere friends, that we may meet the good, and enjoy the beautiful on earth, is a creed that will find believers in all hearts unsoured by their own asceticism. Virtue will sanctify every fireside where we invite her to dwell, and if the clouds of misfortune darken and deform the whole period of our existence, it is a darkness that emanates from ourselves, and a deformity created by us to our own unhappiness.

Yet this is not relating the little story which is the object of my observations. The axiom which I wish to lay down, to maintain, and to prove correct, is, that married life may be with most people, should be with all, and is with many, a state of happiness. The reader may smile at my boldness, but the history of the personages I shall introduce to walk their hour on this my little stage, will justify my adopting the maxim.

M. Pierre Lavalles, owner of a vineyard, near a certain village in the south of France, wooed and wedded Mdlle. Julie Gouchard. Exactly where they dwelt, and all the precise circumstances of their position, I do not mean to indicate, and if I might offer a hint to my contemporaries, it would be a gentle suggestion that they occupy too much time, paper, and language in geographical and genealogical details, very wearisome, because very unnecessary. Monsieur Pierre Lavalles then lived in a pretty house, near a certain village in a vine-growing district of the south of France, and when he took his young wife home, he showed her great stores of excellent things, calculated well for the comfortable subsistence of a youthful and worthy couple. Flowers and blossoming trees shed odor near the lattice windows, verdure soft and green was spread over the garden, and the mantling vine "laid forth the purple grape," over a rich and sunny plantation near at hand. The house was small, but neat, and well furnished in the style of the province, and Monsieur and Madame Pierre Lavalles lived very happily in plenty and content.

Here I leave them, and introduce the reader to Monsieur Antoine Perron, notary in the neighboring village.

Let me linger over a notice of this individual. He was a good man, and what is more curious an honest lawyer. Indeed, in spite of my happy theory, I may say that such a good man, and such a good lawyer you could seldom meet. All the village knew him; he mixed up in every one's quarrels; not, as is usually the case, to make confusion worse confounded by a double-tongued hypocrisy, but to produce conciliation; he mingled in every one's affairs, not to pick up profit for himself, but to prevent the villagers from running into losses and imprudent speculations; he talked much, yet, it was not slander, but advice; he thought more, yet it was not over mischief, but on schemes of good; he was known to everybody, yet none that knew him respected him the less on that account. He was a little, spare, merry-looking man, that sought to appear grave when he was most inclined to merriment, and if he considered himself a perfect genius in his plans for effecting good, his vanity may be pardoned, because of the food it fed on.

M. Antoine Perron considered himself very ingenious, and if he had a fault, it was his love of originality. He never liked to perform any action in a common way, and never chuckled so gaily to himself, as when he had achieved some charitable end by some extraordinary means.

It was seven months after the marriage of M. Pierre Lavalles, M. Antoine Perron sat in his little parlor, and gazed with a glad eye upon the cheerful fire, for the short winter was just terminating. Leaning forward in his chair, he shaded his face with his hands, and steadily perused the figures among the coals with a most pleasant countenance. The room was small, neat, and comfortable, for the notary prospered, in his humble way and seeking only comfort found it, and was content.

Suddenly a violent knocking at the door aroused him from his reverie, and he heard his old servant rushing to open it. In a moment, two persons were ushered into the room, and the notary leaped to his feet in astonishment at the extraordinary scene before him. Had a thunderbolt cloven the roof, and passed through his hearth to its grave in the center of the globe, or had the trees that nodded their naked branches without the window commenced a dance upon the snowy ground, he had not been more surprised.

Monsieur Pierre Lavalles, and Madame Pierre Lavalles stood just inside the doorway. Never had Monsieur Perron seen them before, as he saw them now. Like turtle-doves, with smiling eyes, and affectionate caress, they had lived in happy harmony during the seven months of their married life, and motherly dames, when they gave their daughters away, bade them prosper and be pleasant in their union, as they had been joyous in their love, pleasant and joyous, as neighbor Lavalles and his wife.

Now, Pierre stood red and angry, with his right arm extended, gesticulating toward his wife. Julie stood red and angry, with her left arm extended, gesticulating toward her husband. Eyes, that had only radiated smiles, flashed with fierce passion, as the turtle doves remained near the door, each endeavoring to anticipate the other in some address to the worthy notary. He, aghast and perplexed, waited for the _denouement_.

"Madame," said Monsieur Pierre Lavalles, "allow me to speak."

"Monsieur," said Madame Pierre Lavalles. "I insist--"

"But, Madame, it is my--"

"But, Monsieur, I say I will."

"And yet I will."

"But no--"

"Madame, I shall."

"Then be careful what you do; M. Perron, M. Lavalles is mad."

Then the lady, having thus emphatically declared herself, resigned the right of speech to her husband, who began to jerk out in disconnected phrases a statement of his case. Seven days ago he had annoyed his wife by some incautious word; she had annoyed him by an incautious answer; he had made matters worse by an aggravating retort; and she had widened the breach by a bitter reply. This little squall was succeeded by a cool calm, and that by a sullen silence, until some sudden friction kindled a new flame, and finally, after successive storms and lulls, there burst forth a furious conflagration, and in the violent collision of their anger, the seven-months' married pair vowed to separate, and with that resolve had visited M. Perron. Reconciliation they declared was beyond possibility, and they requested the notary at once to draw up the documents that should consign them to different homes, to subsist on a divided patrimony, in loveless and unhappy marriage. Each told a tale in turn, and the manner of relation added fuel to the anger of the other. The man and the woman seemed to have leaped out of their nature in the accession of their passion. Pity that a quarrel should ever dilate thus, from a cloud the size of a man's hand to a thunder-storm that covers heaven with its black and dismal canopy.

Neither would listen to reason. The duty of the notary was to prepare the process by which they were to be separated.

"Monsieur," he said, "I will arrange the affair for you; but you are acquainted with the laws of France in this respect!"

"I know nothing of the law," replied M. Pierre Lavalles.

"Madame," said the notary, "your wish shall be complied with. But you know what the law says on this head?"

"I never read a law book," sharply ejaculated Madame Pierre Lavalles.

"Then," resumed the notary, "the case is this. You must return to your house, and I will proceed to settle the proceedings with the Judicatory Court at Paris. They are very strict. You must furnish me with all the documents relative to property."

"I have them here," put in the husband, by way of parenthesis.

"And the whole affair including correspondence, preparations of instruments, &c., will be settled in less than three months."

"Three months?"

"Three months. Yes, in less than three months."

"Then I will live with a friend at the village, until it is finished," said Madame Lavalles, in a decided, peremptory tone, usual with ladies when they are a little ashamed of themselves, or any one else.

"Oh, very well, Madame,--oh, very well."

"Not at all well, Madame; not at all well, Monsieur," said the notary, with a solid, immovable voice. "You must live as usual. If you doubt my knowledge of the law, you will, by reading through these seven books, find that this fact is specified."

But the irritated couple were not disposed to undertake the somniferous task, and shortly left the house, as they had come, walking the same way, but at a distance of a yard or so one from another.

Two months and twenty-seven days had passed, when the notary issued from his house, and proceeded toward the house where Monsieur and Madame Lavalles dwelt. Since the fatal night I have described, he had not encountered them, and he now, with a bland face and confident head, approached the dwelling.

It was a pretty place. Passing through the sunny vineyards where the spring was just calling out the leaves, and the young shoots in their tints of tender green were sprouting in the warmth of a pleasant day; the notary entered a garden. Here the flowers, in infant bloom, had prepared the earth for the coming season, for summer in her gay attire was tripping from the south, and as she passed, nature wove garlands to adorn her head, and wreathe about her arms. Early blossoms lent sweetness to the breath of the idle winds that loitered in this delightful spot, and the fair young primrose was sown over the parterres, with other flowers of spring, the most delicate and softly fragrant, that come out to live their hour in modesty and safety, while the earth affords them room, and before the bright and gaudy bloom of a riper season eclipses their beauty, bidding them, blushing, close their petals.

Early roses twined on either side the porch, and as the notary entered, nothing struck him more than the neat and cheerful appearance of the place. A demoiselle ushered him into a little parlor, where Monsieur Pierre Lavalles, and Madame Julie Lavalles, had just sat down to partake breakfast.

A small table was drawn up close to the open window, and vernal breezes found welcome in the chamber. A snowy cloth hung down to the well-polished floor, and tall white cups were placed upon it to rival it in purity and grace. Cakes of bread, such bread as is only had in France, with delicious butter, and rich brown foaming coffee frothed with cream, were spread before them, and a basket of fresh spring flowers, sparkling with dew and beautifully odorous, scented the whole chamber with a delicate perfume.

The husband and wife sat side by side, with pleasant looks, and so engaged in light and amiable conversation, that they hardly noticed the entrance of the notary. The storm had vanished and left no trace. Flushes of anger, flashes of spite, quick breathings, and disordered looks--all these had passed, and now smiles, and eyes lit only with kindness, and bosoms beating with calm content, and looks all full of love, were alone to be observed.

When M. Antoine Perron entered, they started; at length, and then recollecting his mission, blushed crimson, looked one at another, and then at the ground, awaiting his address.

"Monsieur, and Madame," said the notary, "according to your desires I come with all the documents necessary for your separation, and the division of your property. They only want your signature, and we will call in your servant to be witness."

"Stay," exclaimed Madame Julie, laughing at her husband, "Pierre, explain to M. Perron."

"Ah, Monsieur Perron," said Monsieur Antoine Lavalles, "we had forgotten that, and hoped you had also. Say not a word of it to any one."

"No, not a word," said Madame Julie. "We never quarreled but once since we married, and we never mean to quarrel again."

"Not unless you provoke it," said Monsieur Lavalles, audaciously. "But M. Perron, you will take breakfast with us?"

"You're a wicked wretch," said Madame Julie, tapping him on the cheek. "After breakfast, M. Perron, we will sign the papers."

"After breakfast," said M. Pierre Lavalles, "we will burn them."

"We shall see," said the notary. "Sign them or burn them. Madame Julie Lavalles, your coffee is charming."

* * * * *

After seven months' harmony, do not let seven days' quarrel destroy the happiness of home. Do not follow the directions of a person in a passion. Allow him to cool and consider his purpose.

* * * * *

[FROM DICKENS'S HOUSEHOLD WORDS.]

DUST;

OR UGLINESS REDEEMED.

On a murky morning in November, wind north-east, a poor old woman with a wooden leg was seen struggling against the fitful gusts of the bitter breeze, along a stony zigzag road, full of deep and irregular cart-ruts. Her ragged petticoat was blue, and so was her wretched nose. A stick was in her left hand, which assisted her to dig and hobble her way along; and in her other hand, supported also beneath her withered arm, was a large rusty iron sieve. Dust and fine ashes filled up all the wrinkles in her face; and of these there were a prodigious number, for she was eighty-three years old. Her name was Peg Dotting.

About a quarter of a mile distant, having a long ditch and a broken-down fence as a foreground, there rose against the muddled-gray sky, a huge Dust-heap of a dirty black color, being, in fact, one of those immense mounds of cinders, ashes, and other emptyings from dust-holes and bins, which have conferred celebrity on certain suburban neighborhoods of a great city. Toward this dusky mountain old Peg Dotting was now making her way.

Advancing toward the Dust-heap by an opposite path, very narrow, and just reclaimed from the mud by a thick layer of freshly-broken flints, there came at the same time Gaffer Doubleyear, with his bone-bag slung over his shoulder. The rags of his coat fluttered in the east-wind, which also whistled keenly round his almost rimless hat, and troubled his one eye. The other eye, having met with an accident last week, he had covered neatly with an oyster-shell, which was kept in its place by a string at each side, fastened through a hole. He used no staff to help him along, though his body was nearly bent double, so that his face was constantly turned to the earth, like that of a four-footed creature. He was ninety-seven years of age. As these two patriarchal laborers approached the great Dust-heap, a discordant voice hallooed to them from the top of a broken wall. It was meant as a greeting of the morning, and proceeded from little Jem Clinker, a poor deformed lad, whose back had been broken when a child. His nose and chin were much too large for the rest of his face, and he had lost nearly all his teeth from premature decay. But he had an eye gleaming with intelligence and life, and an expression at once patient and hopeful. He had balanced his misshapen frame on the top of the old wall, over which one shriveled leg dangled, as if by the weight of a hob-nailed boot that covered a foot large enough for a plowman.

In addition to his first morning's salutation of his two aged friends, he now shouted out in a tone of triumph and self-gratulation, in which he felt assured of their sympathy--

"Two white skins, and a tor'shell-un!"

It may be requisite to state that little Jem Clinker belonged to the dead-cat department of the Dust-heap, and now announced that a prize of three skins, in superior condition. had rewarded him for being first in the field.

He was enjoying a seat on the wall, in order to recover himself from the excitement of his good fortune.

At the base of the great Dust-heap the two old people now met their young friend--a sort of great-grandson by mutual adoption--and they at once joined the party who had by this time assembled as usual, and were already busy at their several occupations.

But besides all these, another individual, belonging to a very different class, formed a part of the scene, though appearing only on its outskirts. A canal ran along at the rear of the Dust-heap, and on the banks of its opposite side slowly wandered by--with hands clasped and hanging down in front of him, and eyes bent vacantly upon his hands--the forlorn figure of a man, in a very shabby great-coat, which had evidently once belonged to one in the position of a gentleman. And to a gentleman it still belonged--but in _what_ a position! A scholar, a man of wit, of high sentiment, of refinement, and a good fortune withal--now by a sudden turn of law bereft of the last only, and finding that none of the rest, for which (having his fortune) he had been so much admired, enabled him to gain a livelihood. His title-deeds had been lost or stolen, and so he was bereft of everything he possessed. He had talents, and such as would have been profitably available had he known how to use them for his new purpose; but he did not; he was misdirected; he made fruitless efforts in his want of experience; and he was now starving. As he passed the great Dust-heap, he gave one vague, melancholy gaze that way, and then looked wistfully into the canal. And he continued to look into the canal as he slowly moved along, till he was out of sight.

A Dust-heap of this kind is often worth thousands of pounds. The present one was very large and very valuable. It was in fact a large hill, and being in the vicinity of small suburb cottages, it rose above them like a great black mountain. Thistles, groundsel, and rank grass grew in knots on small parts which had remained for a long time undisturbed; crows often alighted on its top, and seemed to put on their spectacles and become very busy and serious; flocks of sparrows often made predatory descents upon it; an old goose and gander might sometimes he seen following each other up its side, nearly midway; pigs rooted around its base,--and now and then, one bolder than the rest would venture some way up, attracted by the mixed odors of some hidden marrow-bone enveloped in a decayed cabbage-leaf--a rare event, both of these articles being unusual oversights of the Searchers below.

The principal ingredient of all these Dust-heaps is fine cinders and ashes; but as they are accumulated from the contents of all the dust-holes and bins of the vicinity, and as many more as possible, the fresh arrivals in their original state present very heterogeneous materials. We cannot better describe them than by presenting a brief sketch of the different departments of the Searchers and Sorters, who are assembled below to busy themselves upon the mass of original matters which are shot out from the carts of the dustmen.

The bits of coal, the pretty numerous results of accident and servants' carelessness, are picked out, to be sold forthwith; the largest and best of the cinders are also selected, by another party, who sell them to laundresses, or to braziers (for whose purposes coke would do as well;) and the next sort of cinders, called the _breeze_, because it is left after the wind has blown the finer cinders through an upright sieve, is sold to the brick-makers.

Two other departments, called the "soft-ware" and the "hard-ware," are very important. The former includes all vegetable and animal matters--everything that will decompose. These are selected and bagged at once, and carried off as soon as possible, to be sold as manure for plowed land, wheat, barley, &c. Under this head, also, the dead cats are comprised. They are generally the perquisites of the women searchers. Dealers come to the wharf, or dust-field, every evening; they give sixpence for a white cat, fourpence for a colored cat, and for a black one according to her quality. The "hard-ware" includes all broken pottery pans, crockery, earthenware, oyster-shells, &c., which are sold to make new roads.

The bones are selected with care, and sold to the soap-boiler. He boils out the fat and marrow first, for special use, and the bones are then crushed and sold for manure.

Of rags, the woollen rags are bagged and sent off for hop-manure; the white linen rags are washed, and sold to make paper, &c.

The "tin things" are collected and put into an oven with a grating at the bottom, so that the solder which unites the parts melts, and runs through into a receiver. This is sold separately; the detached pieces of tin are then sold to be melted up with old iron, &c.

Bits of old brass, lead, &c., are sold to be molted up separately, or in the mixture of ores.

All broken glass vessels, as cruets, mustard-pots, tumblers, wine-glasses, bottles, &c., are sold to the old-glass shops.

As for any articles of jewelry, silver spoons, forks, thimbles, or other plate and valuables, they are pocketed off-hand by the first finder. Coins of gold and silver are often found, and many "coppers."

Meantime, everybody is hard at work near the base of the great Dust-heap. A certain number of cart-loads having been raked and searched for all the different things just described, the whole of it now undergoes the process of sifting. The men throw up the stuff, and the women sift it.

"When I was a young girl," said Peg Dotting--

"That's a long while ago, Peggy," interrupted one of the sifters: but Peg did not hear her.