dimly seen coming towards them; when she had approached, the brothers recognised their mother. The moment this spectre appeared, Henry, by a great effort, advanced to his brother, and fell on his neck; and thus, saturated with blood and tears, the brothers expired in each other's

arms.

A SECOND ALADDIN.

One morning, in the spring of 1791, as Signor Canapo, an old miser, was returning home, after having, along with nearly half the population of Venice, witnessed a grand funeral procession in the neighbourhood of the church of St. Mark, he perceived a dry lentil lying on the ground; and in stooping with great eagerness to take possession of it, his hat fell off, and a young man who was passing immediately picked it up, and ran on a little way in front of the old man.

"Ah! it is you, Zanetto," said the miser; "give me my hat, you mischievous rascal, and do not handle it so roughly, for if you injure it, I will make you pay for the damage.'

"To pay for it, signor," replied Zanetto, "would require money, which is, I assure you, a very scarce article with me. Come, you know the labourer is worthy of his hire; I have picked your hat up; you are rich, and must therefore pay me.'

"You shall be paid with a good flogging, you vagabond!"

"Flogging?" cried Zanetto. "That might do for an old Jew like you, Signor Canapo, but I am a gentleman; and I tell you, if you don't comply with my terms, that the inquisition shall find to-night, in the lion's mouth, a report of how you ridiculed the funeral ceremony, and insulted St. Mark, our patron saint."

"What do you want from me, you rascal?" inquired the miser, evidently fright

ened at the threat of Zanetto.

"If I were to ask you for a thousand ducats, you would not give me them; nay, if I were even to ask you for a sous, you would not be able to find generosity enough to part with it; I shall therefore not distress you further than to require you to give me that lentil."

The miser, to recover his hat, was compelled to give up the lentil; after which he pursued his way, sorely grieved for the loss he had sustained.

Zanetto was not, as might have been believed, without a home; he was only somewhat irregular in his habits, a peculiarity which was almost the only thing he had inherited from his father. As he had been taught reading and writing, his uncle, Joseph Tornolo, a lawyer in Padua, offered to take him into his office as a

clerk; but Zanetto could not make up his mind to leave Venice, which he loved as dearly as the young Foscari. He therefore declined his uncle's offer, although he had by this time disposed of everything in his possession; and was, consequently, quite penny less. The exhausted state of his finances, however, did not repress the buoyancy of his spirits; he was full of confidence in his youth, his handsome form, and above all, on the bounty of Providence; for by a precious gift of nature, he had that organ, which Spurzheim denominated hope, largely developed on his cranium.

Soon after Zanetto had received the lentil from Signor Canapo, he overtook an old Turk, accompanied by a servant, who was carrying a large sack on his back. The servant put down his burthen in front of a house in a retired quarter of the city. Zanetto then went up to the old Turk, and drawing him aside, said, “ Signor, you have lentils in that sack, have you not?"

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Yes, but who told you?" replied the Turk, with a piercing look.

"Here is a lentil," said Zanetto, "which I found not a great way off, and I have followed you to tell you, that there must be a hole in your sack."

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By Allah!" cried the Turk, “I would not for a thousand ducats, that there should be a hole in my sack. Since you have good eyes, young man, I wish you would see if you can find the hole."

Zanetto examined the sack, and found a small hole in it.

"Seigneur," said he, "here is a small hole through which the lentil must have dropped, and as the hole is getting larger, you would soon have lost more, if I had not apprised you of the hole in the sack.

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"My friend," replied the Turk, you have rendered me a great service, which shall not pass unrewarded."

He then drew from his pocket a wellfilled purse, and a small brass seal, which he presented to Zanetto, saying, "Take either this purse, or this small seal. The contents of the purse will, for a few years, enable you to live in comfort, but afterwards you will again sink into poverty. With the aid of the seal, success will crown all your undertakings. If you were to send a letter to the king of Spain, asking him to come and visit you, he would immediately comply with your request, if the letter were sealed with this small seal. If you do not believe me, take the purse; but if you do, choose the talisman."

"Give me the talisman," said Zanetto. "Mind you must neither sell nor lose it; and only employ it in matters of importance. If ever I return to Venice, I shall find you in some palace surrounded with flatterers; however, as long as you preserve

this talisman, all will be well with you; but if you lose it, you will be completely ruined. Adieu, my son; do not forget your friend Ali-Mohammed."

"Fear not, I will relinquish the talisman only with life," said Zanetto, putting the seal carefully into his pocket; and then, having embraced the Turk, who was about to depart for his own country, he proceeded by a thousand windings, to the most thickly populated quarter of Venice, where retiring to rest himself under the shelter of a large portico, he began to reflect on his interview with Ali-Mohammed. "Have I not," said he to himself, "done wrong in choosing this morsel of brass, instead of the purse filled with ducats? Ali-Mohammed is no doubt one of those dangerous magicians, who delight in sending people to Lucifer. Although I am rather wicked, I am yet a christian like my father, the late cavelier Tornolo, and I would not like to sell myself to the devil. Let me see, all my projects are to be crowned with success; but I don't know what to undertake! I am only to use the talisman in affairs of importance, and as my dinner is but a trifling matter, I must I suppose go without it. I can, it appears, command the king of Spain to come and pay his respects to me, yet my shoes let in the water, my clothes are quite threadbare, and to night I shall have to be shivering in bed, with a window curtain over me, instead of a blanket. But I must wait, affairs of importance will arrive, and then I shall have a palace, servants, a beautiful wife, and a hundred thousand ducats a year; I shall go to confession, do penance, and the magician will be enraged to see me going to heaven in spite of him."

At this moment Zanetto espied Signor Cornivo proceeding in a direction opposite to that in which his residence lay. An idea suddenly occurred to Zanetto, and he darted off with the rapidity of lightning.

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"Since I have no money," said Zanetto, to go to the theatre with, I will take advantage of Signor Cornivo's absence, and go and see his charming daughter Luigia." Signor Cornivo had formerly been acquainted with Zanetto's father, at which period his daughter and Zanetto were inseparable companions; but when Zanetto became poor, Signor Cornivo, like a prudent father, shut his doors on the young man, and commanded his daughter to forget the companion of her childhood. Luigia had reached womanhood, and was shortly to be married to Mercantonio, son of Signor Conapo, an ill-favoured and miserly being, who was the exact counterpart of his respected parent. Zanetto, on arriving at Signor Cornivo's dwelling, perceived Luigia leaning out on the balcony. "Dear Luigia," said he, "how is it you

are not at San-Salvatore, where the famous Lacchi is to perform in a new piece? All Venice is there except you and I."

"Alas! Zanetto, my father will not let me go, and what is more, Mercantonio, my intended, will not take me there either, when I am married."

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Your father is a tyrant, and if I were in your place, I would not have such a stingy fellow for a husband as Mercantonio."

"Alas! how can I help myself, my good Zanetto?"

"Ah! Luigia, you have forgotten the time when you promised to be my wife; yes, this circumstance has escaped from your memory!"

"No, I remember it well-perfectly well, my dear Zanetto. But your father ruined himself, and mine shut his door on you. Now I am to be married to Mercantonio, who is ugly, rich, and miserly. I should prefer a handsome husband, who would take me to the theatre, but where am I to find him?"

"Here!" said Zane to, striking his breast with a theatrical air; "here, dearest Luigia. I have never ceased to love you; I am now rich, and if you will consent to be my wife, I swear I will take you once a week to the theatre as long as you like." "What! are you rich?" cried Luigia, with sparkling eyes. Speak to my father then as quickly as possible, and when you have bought a house, we will get married."

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"Not a common house; I shall purchase a palace, and you shall have as many servants as you like, to say nothing of musicians.'

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Zanetto, it would be dreadful if you were only mocking me, for I feel that I do not love Mercantonio, and that the affection I love you is revived in my heart. Take this white handkerchief as a pledge of my love, and depart quickly, for here is my father. If you deceive me, I shall die of sorrow."

"May St. John, my patron, break my bones if I do."

Zanetto took the handkerchief, kissed it, and then departed. Now that he was alone, he was greatly alarmed at the audacious falsehoods he had just uttered.

(1o be continued.)

Review.

M. Capefigue's Diplomatists of Europe.

The leading topics of this work are the downfall of Napoleon, the first and second restoration of the Bourbons, and the congresses to which they led, with historical accounts of the various diplomatists engaged in this affair. Metternich, Talleyrand, Pozzo di Borgo, Nesselrode, Welling

ton, Castlereagh, are the leading characters, brief sketches of whose families and lives are introduced. The work possesses merit, yet it has its defects and weaknesses. There is vivacity in the style, and the author possesses the polite insinuation of the older school, which can say impertinent things without coarseness; but his conceptions of Toryism and the English aristocracy, and his general opinions, are one-sided and fallacious in the extreme; nor can he disguise his antipathy to certain parties, not that he openly attacks them, but insinuating narrative is the mode adopted for effecting his purpose. A better example cannot be given than in the following instance, when speaking of Talleyrand's dismissal from the French council:

TALLEYRAND'S DISGRACE. "The real cause of Talleyrand's disgrace was the active attempts he made to negotiate peace with England independent of Napoleon. The emperor did not at all like men who acted upon their own opinion; he liked everything to originate with himself alone. He got rid of Talleyrand as in succeeding years he shook off Fouché, minister of police. There are times when men of consideration are a source of embarrassment; when advisers are no longer required-devoted servants alone are necessary. The prince of Benevento took advantage of the circumstance; and as the Spanish war was very unpopular, he assumed the attitude of a martyr to his love for peace and moderate measures. He was always clever enough to account for his being out of favour, by attributing it to some motive which might secure him a good place in public opinion; and he then profited by his situation to wage an underhand but murderous war against the power which had rejected him from its circle of activity. When he was no longer at the head of affairs for the purpose of directing them, he took care to bring up the rear for the sake of causing hindrance and annoyance. Nevertheless, his dismissal was now covered with a golden mantle; he received the title of vice-grand elector, with the same salary of 500,000 francs that he enjoyed during his ministry. The activity of his mind led him afresh into commercial pursuits: he gambled in the stocks, became a partner in a banking-house, at Hamburg and in Paris, invested considerable sums of money in the English funds, and awaited patiently the course of events. To know how to wait is a great mark of political knowledge; and it was one of Talleyrand's favourite axioms, that patience often leads to favourrble situations; he never would be in a hurry. A secret opposition was beginning to form against Napoleon, even in the highest ranks,

among the heads of the senate, of the government, and of the army. Fearful of yet making itself manifest by any overt act, it only ventured upon apparently trifling remarks and half-confidences; but people conspired in their minds-expressions were used which were repeated as apothegms and prophecies of society. 'It is the beginning of the end,' said Talleyrand, at the time of the disastrous expedition to Moscow; and this just appreciation had been warmly applauded. What a terrible opposition is that of the salons and the gay world! It kills with a lingering death; it upsets the strongest ideas; it destroys the best laid plans: it would be far better to be compelled to engage in a pitched battle face to face. This opposition was gradually increasing; and the police establishment of general Savary, which tended more to the employment of brute force than the adoption of intelligent precautions, was incapable of restraining it; it was gradually appearing on every side; besides which the men, who placed themselves at the head of the resisting party, were of too much consequence for the emperor to venture to touch them. Talleyrand and Fouché now did whatever they pleased with perfect impunity-they were acting against the emperor, and he did not dare to show his displeasure. It has always been supposed that Napoleon, when at the summit of his greatness, might have put down any one; yet, great as he was, there were some men too powerful for him. The day that he had touched Talleyrand or Fouché, all the officers of government would have considered themselves at the mercy of a caprice; Cambacérès, Lebrun, Regnault de Saint Jean d'Angely, feeling themselves henceforth without any security against a master whom they detested, would perhaps have shaken off the yoke."

We cite another passage, which is highly characteristic of the work:

TALLEYRAND'S DEATH BED.

"Accounts of the state of his health were incessantly despatched to Neuilly. He had rendered great services to Louis Phillipe; who had often consulted him and derived the benefit of his experience, and who was now resolved to pay a last visit to the last descendant of the Périgords. When the king was announced, the prince said with a feeble voice, but without any appearance of emotion, as if the attention were due to him-It is the greatest honour my house has received.' There was a strong aristocratic feeling in the expression my house': it signified that, though the visit was honourable to his family, there was nothing to cause surprise in it. Neither did he forget, even at that moment, the etiquette which forbids that anybody should stand in the presence of a

sovereign without being presented; and he immediately added, in a calm tone, 'I have a duty to fulfil it is to present to your majesty the persons who are in the room, and who have not yet had that honour;' and he introduced his physician, his surgeon, and his valet-de-chambre. This behaviour, when at the point of death, bore the stamp of high aristocratic manners, perfectly in keeping with the visit with which his last moments had been honoured: it was part of the decorum and ancient ceremony observed between noble families: the escutcheons of both bore the same relative rank-the youngest branch of the Bourbons went to visit the youngest branch of Périgords. In ancient times the houses of Navarre and de Quercy had met together on the common field of battle, and the cry Re que Dieu had been uttered at the same time with the war-cry of Henry IV, by the old southern nobility, the language of Oc being common to both. People expressed surprise at the signal honour conferred upon Talleyrand; but it showed that the customs of gentle blood were not comprehended by the spirit of inferior society. No one was more attached to his illustrious descent than the old diplomatist, and the younger branch of the Bourbons came itself of too good a stock to forget it; the two cadets of de Quercy and Navarre had met in the recollection of their race, as in their political life,

The Gatherer.

Jack Sheppard.-A singular story has lately appeared in the papers, setting forth that Mr. Smith, the proprietor of the Hope tavern, in Blackmore street, Clare market, had in his possession the portraits, painted by Thornhill, of Jack Sheppard and his mother; and sold them, a few days since, to Mr. Merivale, of Gray's Inn, for ninetyseven guineas. In removing the portrait of Jack's progenitor from its frame, there were found, below the moulding, seven guineas, together with a number of copper coins of the period. Put accidentally thus upon the scent of some of Jack's secrets, it was an easy inference that it might be worth while to make a careful examination of the other frame-which, besides, was of a suspicious thickness; and it yielded up its treasures accordingly. Between the moulding and lining were found a number of papers and documents relating to the rising in 1745-some extremely curious, and all bearing the post-mark of the time;

besides furniture more characteristic, and which should have been left as appropriate frame-work to the portraiture of Jack. There were a portion of a note for £10, and

Death of Mr. Basevi.-This eminent architect has been dismissed from life by a fatal accident. Whilst inspecting the alteration in the belfry at Ely cathedral (which is undergoing extensive repairs), about eleven o'clock on Thursday week, in company with the dean and Mr. Stuart, one of the minor canons, he was standing upon a large beam, having some rough nails upon the surface, one of his companions cautioned him to be careful, but no sooner had the warning been given, than the toe of Mr. Basevi caught some of the nails, and he was precipitated through a small hole in the belfry-floor to the lower roof of the tower of the cathedral, and falling upon one of the beams, was killed upon the spot.

John Bull.-The seven dealings of John Bull are the shop, the stocks, the newspaper, religion, roast beef, prejudice, and port wine.

Nothing Lost.-It is well said that nothing is lost. The drop of water which is spilt, the fragment of paper which is burnt, the plant that rots on the ground, all that perishes there and is forgotten, equally seek the atmosphere, and all is preserved, and thence daily returned for use.-Macculloch.

Savings' Bank.-One example will show how small a saving in early life will keep a man independent of the workhouse in his old age. Suppose he save but one shilling a week from the time he is twenty years old till he is forty, and put it every year in the Savings' bank, it will, at compound interest, amount to £72 12s. 54d. Suppose for the next twenty years he does not add one penny to it, it will, without his help, have more than doubled itself, and entitle him at sixty, to demand upwards of £150; or, if he prefer it, a government annuity of £15 a year, or 10d. a day paid quarterly at the Savings' bank; in other words, a little over a shilling a week laið by in youth will entitle a man to a shilling a day in old age.

A Modest Man.-The following advertisement appeared this week in the Times:

"To all, a gentleman of experience, indomitable perseverance, strong constitution, and good connections, equal to any thing, and willing to work twenty in the twenty-four hours, is open to an engage.

ment.