the above qualifications, one of those, my wife, 1 liked to see her set out her sprightly bewitching syrens, whose charms beauteous figure to the best advantage, are not to be resisted. Happy as the days and she availed herself of that infatuation of courtship are known to be, we were both not to follow but to invent new fashions, anxious to abridge their duration; so that which, as you may well imagine, was four months after my being introduced to attended with no inconsiderable expence. Clarissa, I engaged to take her “for better || Next, as it is of no use being fine unless or for worse."--Too soon did I find that you be seen, she would repeatedly be at "there could be too much of a good thing!" home; and when intoxicated with the But more of that hereafter. praises that had been lavished upon her superior taste, she sat down to cards, she then had to pay in sterling money by handfulls the interested incense of which she had devoured the smoke. As a prelude, Clarissa being a minor, her miserly guardians would only grant their consent upon condition of the whole of her property being settled on herself; and I readily acquiesced giving that proof of disinterestedness, as I had a handsome fortune of my own, unincumbered with debt. Although by no means extravagantly inclined, yet I conceived it became me to form an elegant establishment proportionate to my income, mindful at the same time to keep a provision for casualties. Little did I imagine that the musical talents of my cara sposa alone would be the occasion of my whole reserve being more than absorbed; however, it turned out to be the case. Simple amateurs were not found sufficiently competent to join in her conceits, so that a couple, at least, of virtuosi of each sex were put in requisition. Then every rehearsal was followed by a dinner, to which on account of the ultimate debating which pieces were to be executed, and in what succession, I myself was considered as an intruder; of course, none of my friends were to be admitted upon any terms; but I might have as many as I chose at supper, when they would be better entertained, as the Signors and Signoras were to stop. To these latter I must do the justice to acknowledge their being extremely sober and temperate, though I always found them superlatively dainty. What surprised me most in them, however, was their prolonging their stay after all the company had withdrawn; but Clarissa relieved me from my visible anxiety, by informing me in a sweet whisper, that the compliment due to those artists was always to be discharged prestissimo.—So much for my having professed being an admirer of music! I was ever of opinion that a plain look ing woman should avoid dressing too showy; but this not being the case with My hints at economy were suffered to pass unnoticed, and when, at the expiration of two years, I found myself compelled to mortgage an estate, and to explicitly announce a reform, my wife's spirits were instantly paralized. Not long after, she caught the small-pox, by which she was literally disfigured. Disconsolate at the loss of her beauty, she lingered for a short time, and finally left me to lament the death of a partner whose life had been for me a source of regret amidst an ocean of joys. My second wife had no beauty to boast of; and with regard to fortune and accomplishments, hers were proportionate to the situation in life of her father, an humble worthy country curate. Like another Cæsar, veni, vidi, vici, I saw Miss Arabella Wilson at church, was pleased with her countenance, and on my third visit, asked whether she would allow me to demand her father's consent; which the good gentleman, being apprized of her acquiescence, and acquainted with my circumstances and character, readily granted. It was immediately agreed also, that he should accompany his daughter to London, there to provide such articles of wearing apparel as her new situation would require, the choice and purchase of which I doubted not but one of my female relatives would willingly superintend. This point once settled, I sued for no demur; a few hours brought us to town. The next day, whilst the ladies were gone shopping, I went to procure a special license, and half a score of milliners, dress-makers, and other artists of the same description, being prevailed upon to sit up all night, our days of courtship were speedily at an end-to make room for a life of contradiction and dis- || intruded upon, I proposed removing into pleasure. The objection of my new spouse to range within the circle of my numerous connections and acquaintance, I ascribed, at first, to her domestic habits, and to a timidity which would soon wear off; but she shewed a similar dislike to receiving company at home; and I discovered, to my great sorrow, that it proceeded from a penurious disposition on the one hand, and from peevishness on the other. Under a pretence of her being indisposed, I was forced to decline many invitations; when, in fact, the only motive of her refusal was to prevent the obligation of returning the 'civility. A trusty housekeeper, who had been in my father's service before I was boru, and my aged porter and butler, who had lived in the family from the same date as the former, gave me warning, on account of the constant discontented humour and ill-treatment of their mistress; neither was I suffered to enjoy one day's rest until 1 had dismissed my valet, who, upon au occasion, had saved my life at the peril of his own, because Madame could not abide keeping in her house a foreigner, to be murdered by him at some future period. So far, however, I had not been quite deprived of my liberty; I was allowed to take my morning rides and walks, so beneficial to health; but my wife, discovering that she was in the family way, would no longer dispense with my presence, so that I was condemned to live in a state of imprisonment. In order to avoid being the country; to this suggestion she objected, reproaching me with wishing to deprive her of medical assistance, as she stood in need of daily advice: yet exercise was prescribed, and she refused taking any out of doors. The jolting of the carriage might be attended with fatal consequences; the streets of London, besides, offered such monstrous sights! Oh! if her child was to be deformed!—Meanwhile she was safely delivered, and she immediately changed her course. She relinquished the negative to assume the imperative; and if her com❤ mands, however whimsical, ridiculous, or absurd, were not obeyed, as by magic, "her dear babe must suffer, a wet-nurse must be sent for."-How shall I proceed? an involuntary mistake threw her into so violent a rage, that a complete derangement soon followed, and within a fortnight, once more I was left a widower; and a convulsion robbed me of my child. The joys of being a parent I have experienced once, and cannot renounce tamely the hopes of enjoying the same blessing again. So many of my acquaintance are happy in the marriage state, that, although my lot, as a husband, has hitherto been unhappy, through my inconsiderate choice, I consider it as one chance more in my be half, that my next wife will not resemble either of the two first, whom I have described, and that you might select one whose temper and qualifications will be more congenial with my own.-1 am, &c. &c. BENEDICT. OLD ACQUAINTANCES; OR, NEW MASKS.-FROM THE FRENCH. "Je crois voir des masques partout, THE events which, for a long time, continued to agitate France, have wrought such a change in the manners, tastes, fortune, and situation of its inhabitants, that it is impossible for a Frenchman who has been absent from his country for only a quarter of a century, to enter it again without meeting, at every step, fresh subjects to excite his astonishment, and without continually falling into curious, and often disagreeable errors. The Count de Norville left France in the month of June, 1788: when he took a voyage for the sake of improving himself in the languages of the north, which he had been some time studying, and which he desired to obtain a thorough knowledge of. During the commencement of his stay in a foreign country, the revolution broke out; and the political flame spread through Frauce with the rapidity of the evil: the family of the Count was persecuted and proscribed; some of his relatives, martyrs || arrival had spread through the village, to the royal cause, lost on the scaffold the remainder of that blood which had already been shed in the field of battle in the defence of their monarch; others were condemned to end those days in exile, now shortened by grief and despair. The Count, himself, although he had quitted his country long before the fever of revolt had destroyed every moral principle, was yet placed on the fatal list, and stripped, during the life of his father, of the immense wealth that his family had, for ages, enjoyed, and which, one day, was to descend to his own children. The sorrows of his country drew tears from the Count, who supported, without complaining, the loss of rank, dignity, and fortune. He thought no more of seeing France, where he then possessed nothing; a Frenchman of known honour and bravery, while the Russians, who had given him so generous a reception, were conquered on the plains of Eylau, the Count, at the head of another Russian army, fought, and avenged, by a shining victory, the nu merous checks that the brave Russians received from French valour; an illustrious warrior, a grateful foreigner, he instructed his hosts in the art of vanquishing the Persiaus, and paid the debt of hospitality by his victories. A change took place in France; she invited the Bourbons back to the throne of their ancestors: immediately the Count de Norville, proud of having yet a sacrifice to offer to his sovereign, abandoned, without regret, the brilliant lot that awaited him in a foreign land, to go and range himself among the defenders of a throne, of which his ancestors had been some of the firmest supporters. On his return to France, he offered to his King a pure heart, a welltried arm, and a name without reproach, which had been rendered doubly glorious by his exploits: precious advantages, of which the native modesty of the Count taught him not to be vain, but on which the wisdom of the monarch knew how to set á just value. The government that had seized on the wealth of the Count, forgot to dispose of a little chateau, situated about eight leagues from Paris. M. de Norville went there on a Sunday; and as soon as the news of his No. 113.-Vol. XVIII. every one went to pay him homage; but as he saw no one, they were obliged to be satisfied with being only allowed to write down their names. The Count, to whom the list was delivered in the evening, read the names over very attentively, but was not able to discover among them one with which he was acquainted. The next day, M. de Lussac, one of the newest and richest inhabitants of the district, being more pressing and more fortunate than those that had preceded him, was introduced into the presence of M. de Norville; after having made him a laboured congratulation on his return, M. de Lussac, who had carefully informed the Count of the important character he held in the commune, of which he was fifth magistrate, intreated him to do him the honour of accepting an invitation he gave nim for the following day. "I shall have," said he, 66 a select and brilliant party, composed of the first people in this quarter, and I shall consider myself but too happy if the Count de Norville will do me the honour of his company." M. de Norville, curious of seeing a specimen of the inhabitants of the canton, and desirous also of knowing the manners of those amongst whom he was obliged to pass a part of the year, accepted the invi tation of M. de Lussac. The Count, who feared he should find himself in the midst of a circle of strangers, was agreeably deceived in seeing himself surrounded by people whose countenances were familiar to him, although their names were utterly unknown to him. These names rather staggered him; there was, according to his opinion, a very great resemblance between the features of a valetde-chambre formerly in his father's service, and those of a financier who was placed on his right hand; but how could he recognise Dupré under the name of M. de St. Yves, the owner of half a dozen old castles, which he had taken care to demolish? He thought also that he discovered, in the countenance of a certain Baroness de Chamois, the wit and gaiety of a charming female villager, who was about fourteen years of age at the time of his departure, and who gave promise of being one of the prettiest girls in the neighbourhood; but to judge by the countenance of Madame K the point of saying to a little old man, for whom every one seemed to have the highest cousideration, "Gaspard, good day to you, you old rogue," which was the name his aunt's attorney went by; but, just as this amicable sentence was about to escape him, he was stopped by one saying, “Well, M. Durivage, you say nothing!"-These new qualities, mingled with former recollections, this resemblance of feature, and this difference of the name aud profession, excited his curiosity in a very singular manner; the respect, besides, with which the master of the house treated those persons which the Count did not expect to meet at his house, destroyed all his conjectures, and set aside his suspicions. d'Orfeuille, who informed him that he was not mistaken by the species of silence that those people had kept towards him, who, certainly, owed him some respect; the Count resolved to avenge himself in a laughable manner. At the end of the repast, when the champaign had put every one in good humour, M. de Norville, turning to M. de Lussac, thanked him kindly for the pleasure be had procured him; but, added he, a little sarcastically, "I am sorry you did not let me into the secret; I would then have adopted a disguise like the others, and I am happy in thinking that I should not have acquitted myself amiss."—" What do you mean, Sir? A disguise!"-" Assuredly; is not this the seventh of February, and, consequently, the last and best day of the carnival?"—" Well!"—" You imagined, I supA footman announced the Baron d'Or- pose, that the season of madness was an feuille here, the identity of the name excuse for every thing; and you wished to served to make the Count recollect the son treat me with a little masquerade?”—“ A of a secretary formerly belonging to his masquerade!" cried out, at once, all the uncle, that twelve years' service, eight guests." Why are you displeased," rewounds, and two famous actions, had ele-plied M. de Norville, smiling; "is it a fault vated to the rank of Colonel. Without any other patron than his own bravery, no protector but his own conduct, young d'Orfeuille had pursued the path to danger to arrive at the temple of houour; he owed his rank to his own merit, and his nobility to his sword. Proud of having built for himself a name, he took care not to change his own; and the Colonel never forgot that he commenced his military career as a private soldier: the Count and he immediately became acquainted; one single glance exchanged, was sufficient to establish the most perfect intelligence between them.M. de Norville congratulated the Baron on his military talents, and renewed his acquaintance with him. D'Orfeuille, an enthusiast to every thing that was great, rendered justice to the noble character of M. de Norville, which never belied itself for an instant, and solicited the honour of pay- || ing his respects to one of the most early protectors of his family; a sort of intimacy was, therefore, established between these two warriors, who so well knew how to value each other. The Count, always puzzled by the change of names in those persons he thought himself so well acquainted with, questioned Ah! in me that I should recognize you? An absence of twenty-six years may have caused you to forget my features; but, notwithstanding the ease with which you fill your new characters, there are certain habits which time cannot destroy, and which were sufficient to make me know you again."—" But, Sir," replied M. de Saint Yves, reddening, "it is now eighteen years that I have held in the world a very consequential post."-" Consequential! that is just the term that I should have suspected my poor Dupré to make use of.”"But there are circumstances," said the Baroness," which has too much struck us ever to be forgotten.”— The Baroness yet as ungrammatical as an angel," replied the Count; "but I have seen the time when this provincial language was suitable to her dress. Ah! Fanny, how pretty you once looked in your corset of white dimity, and your coarse striped cotton petticoat; your budding charms then concealed under a thick double muslin handkerchief! I ask your pardon, gentlemen; but if, like me, you had known Fanny when she was only fourteen, she would have set you all mad. I appeal only to this old attorney that you "have christened Durivage, and who, at of France, he took care never to forget his own. The name of Durivage fell to his lot on account of a circumstance which he would be very happy to have buried in oblivion." "Ah! gentlemen," said the Count, affecting an air of remorse yet more mortifying than his recent observations," you will excuse an error natural enough for a man to be guilty of who has been so long absent from France, especially as rumour had not made him acquainted with your brilliant situations. Do not suffer the remainder of this day to be clouded with my sin that time, often used to frequent the house of my aunt, whose affairs he sadly neglected and deranged, while he went to pay his court to my nurse's daughter. I have often fancied, during my exile, that Fanny had become the prey of that mask.”—“ Sir, I am truly sorry," replied M. de Lussac, with much quickness, "but I never thought of the Carnival; you are not dining with masks.”—“ Indeed!" said M. de Norville, affecting surprise.-" M. de Saint Yves, Sir, is really become a wealthy man; he owes his fortune to his industry, the consideration he enjoys to his wife, and he has taken the name of an estate he has just dis-gular mistake. You will pardon me for posed of. Your pretty village fair was left recollecting you, the same as I pardon your a widow by her first husband, who was a having forgot me."-So saying, he rose from clerk in the treasury; her second was a table, and addressing, by turns, the differcaptain in the cavalry; her third was a ent personages by which he was surroundcommercial broker; and she became a Ba-ed, he added, "Saint Yves, I shall meet roness by marrying an old officer, who re- you without feeling any trouble. Duri tired from the service about five-and-twenty || years ago. M. Durivage has been in place at all periods of the revolution; taking care, in good time, always to abandon the|| conquered party, and giving every assistance, and that with infinite address, as Madame de Stael observes, to the conquerors: often entrusted with the affairs vage, I shall receive you without any ceremony. Baron d'Orfeuille, I shall ever see you with pleasure :" and drawing the arm of the Baroness through his own, he walked out with her, to take a turn round the garden. S. G. PIERRE HUET; OR, THE SQUARE TOWER.-FROM A FRENCH PAPER. PARIS is a place wherein we easily forget both our neighbours and ourselves: it is this indifference which gives us real freedom. No uneasy curiosity, no tiresome observations; every one lives for himself, and as best pleases him. We may, there, be a saint without edification, a libertine without giving scandal, an atheist without exciting wonder. Extraordinary actions inspire but little enthusiasm, and trifles confer glory. Montaigne, who wrote such a beautiful chapter against the fear of death, would have been surprised at the stoical tranquillity of the humblest inhabitant of Paris. If a funeral procession crosses his path, his imagination is not tormented by it: it is an embarrassment, it is a death, that is nothing. Never did one city contain a greater number of philosophers: as many as there are inhabitants. With all the charms of inconsiderateness, || Paris has all the advantages of constancy. The artless traditions of our ancestors are preserved amongst the frivolities of the present day. Extremes always border close upon each other. How often does a slight partition separate the boudoir of a coquette from the dwelling of a poor old married couple, virtuous as they are industrious. There is an union of this kind, the circumstances of which might appear fabulous, if all Paris could not attest the truth. At the foot of that square tower, which gives its name to the Quai de l'Horloge, the fatal bell of which gave the signal for the mas sacre of St. Bartholomew, a monument which takes its date from the time of the crusades, and where, according to an old tradition, Clotaire assassinated her nephews, in spite of the tears of her mother: at the foot of this tower, an old venerable man |