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Boulevards, they find it necessary to write over the door, "Admittance to persons decently dressed."

The French character is enterprising, forward, impelled by curiosity, not easily repulsed, and with little of that shyness which, in the English is sometimes pride, and sometimes a foolish feeling of shame, but often likewise a decent sense of propriety. It appears as if a Frenchman imagined he has only to show himself to be admired. If he publicly write, speak, or act, he assumes importance. If his portrait be painted, his bead must be thrown back, his breast forward, and his air must either be smiling, dignified, or disdainful j in his own language, it must impose. Would he permit his numerous good qualities to act unaffectedly, and without ostentation, he would indeed be admirable: but he hides the real worth of his character, which is often great, by his open and extravagant claims to superiority; and, when he happens to have less than a common share of understanding, sometimes hisludicrousimpertinencealmostlevelshimwith the ape.

SOLILOQUY OF A LOVER BV MOONLIGHT*. "Love mounts and rolls about my stormy mind,

Like fire that's borne by a tempestuous wind." Dryden.

....the immeasurable vault of heaven is spread over the head of an atom! I am lost in the immensity

» We present to our readers the following extraordinary fragment, translated from a German novel, as .in instance of the fervid, impassioned, but metaphysical language with which the Germans express the effusions of love.

of space, nevertheless, Henrietta! oh, adorable man! this eye, composed of the dust, discovers the brilliant Sirius; and penetrates to scenes immensely removed. My mind embraces thousands of worlds. It is'greater and more vast than creation itself: the whole of creation is its domain. It measures the universe, comprehends all existence, prescribes all its laws. I stand beneath innumerable worlds, which glitter over my head; they fall, they cease to shine, but I remain! My soul shall not be hid by the thick curtain which separates worlds, for it penetrates eternity with confidence!

It is with thee, my beloved, that I long to enjojr this eternity! I adore thee! those words raise me above all temporary and fragile matter. I adore thee! and thou shalt be mine! Never have my arms pressed thee to my heart; never has this heart beaten with transport against thine, yet thou art mine, Henrietta! although destiny should place immense seas between us, although death should separate us in this world, still thou art mine! I shall rise victorious with thee from the tomb! We will take our flight together through the heavens, while suns shall gild the flowing folds of thy robe!

.... For what do I languish? What passion is it that draws tears from my eyes? What desire expands my breast? I wish for thy love! I wish for nothing beside. I am thine! ah, be thou mine!

.... Will not those bright and lovely eyes be also extinguished in the grave—alas! if thou didst even now press me to thy heart, would not the tomb open to separate us?

.. ..To be silent and to die! Henrietta,- such is my fate. If I dared to speak, if a beneficent Providence permitted me to say to thee, be mine! If, at these

•words, those resplendent eyes, glistening with love,

turned upon him who pronounced those words; if tby

Viand pressed mine; if thy lips uttered—I am thine!

oh, I should expire with rapture! or, if I survived that

moment, Henrietta, my mind would lose the character

with which thou hast reproached it; my soul would

cease to be a stormy sea; joy, happiness, repose would

possess me wholly!

Yes, my beloved, my heart is the victim of

storms. Thou art the destiny of my life: it depends on thy will. Tranquillity is the gift of thy pure and gentle heart: oh, when shall I possess it! ah, may I hope, Henrietta, that thou wilt one day be mine?

.... I perceive the neighbouring scene, which the moon yet faintly illumines, begins to be enveloped with clouds; they rise slowly, and gather into an immense canopy. I no longer can descry the house in which tbou dost sleep. The resplendent Sirius no longer casts its rays upon me. Alas! if it is true that thou canst never love me, Henrietta, then a dark and eternal cloud will envelop the heavens and all nature!.... When thou dost speak, a sudden emotion agitates me. I prefer death to your indifference. From the whole world are the sentiments of my heart concealed, unhappy am I if they are also concealed from thee; if thou dost not know by what irresistible necessity I am thine.

Lately didst thou take an infant in thy arms,

from that time the child was the object of my friendship; I pressed it to my heart—ah, had I been that infant!....

HISTORY OF A FEMALK WARRIOR.

"RiYished with wars' and danger's horrid charms, She with impetuous ardour flew to arms."

Sir Richard Blackmori.

The father of Jane Wildfire was an old soldier, who, with a wooden leg and four wounds in various parts of his body, was at length discharged the service. He arrived at his old cottage, where he found his wife, his daughter Jane, and his son, all stout, robust, and hearty. They had lived as well as they could, and the best they could was hardly enough, They spun, weeded gardens, and did any laborious work that fell in their way.

Jane was always remarkably strong, and could earn some shillings per week, which was a chief source of wealth, by cutting wood, and selling it to the cottagers for fuel in winter time.

The sudden appearance of the father was a heavy blow upon this poor family, who could hardly scrape up money enough to keep themselves from starving during the hard season of the year. Affection, however, will go 4 great way; they resolved, therefore, to work double tides for the old man. He was very grateful for their attention, and often made their work seem lighter, by telling them stories of the scenes he had been engaged in. He was so justly proud of his own king and country, that he hated the French almost as much as he adored the name of an Englishman. While he was speaking, Jane felt a sensation unlike any thing she had ever known before. She dreamed of nothing but fighting, and her father was so pleased

with her earnestness, that he cut a piece of timber into the shape of a gun, taught her the manual and platoon exercises, gave her a correct idea of the marching, facing, and all the minutiae of military manoeuvres. She added to this a complete knowledge of the broadsword, and could wield any heavy instrument with uncommon facility. She almost forgot she was a woman; and if any of the neighbouring rustics offered her an affront, she immediately laid aside the delicacy of her sex, and, with a stout cudgel in her hand, seldom failed of making the aggressor heartily sorry for his temerity. The illness of her brother Tom, who laboured hard for the support of this little family, soon involved them in a state of the most deplorable poverty. At this sad moment, their hopes were a little revived by the arrival of a man of fortune, who came to settle in the neighbourhood.

This stranger was one Captain Popinjay, a young gentleman, to whom the old soldier had formerly rendered a very material service. The captain had been sent to his regiment a raw, inexperienced youth. He was a very accomplished gentleman: he could sing, he could dance, he could speak French, but unluckily he was totally ignorant of the duties of a soldier. He committed so many blunders, that the commanding officer expressed his intention of complaining to the general, who was expected to superintend an ensuing review. Captain Popinjay would, most likely, have been subjected to some rebuke and mortification, had he not happened to have old Wildfire for his servant. He was so zealously attached to his master, that he promised to make all his difficulties easy. The captain

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