SUPERIORITY OF BEING AN ARTIST.-A RECENT FACT AT PARIS.

"About what?"-"My son Charles is a you by the familiar title of comrade, tell very likely lad.”—" My daughter Lucetta || me by what interest you have aspired to is the handsomest girl in the whole neigh- || the finest part of the human form? What bourhood. What then?"-" Let us marry is it you do towards perfecting it? Is it them together."-" What are you talking about?"—"Charles is very industrious. I shall leave him my shop, all my customers, and about a thousand livres a year, which will give Lucetta a good jointure.”—“My Lucetta! my Lucetta! Miss Lucetta shall never marry a tradesman.”—“ And pray, what are you? You, indeed, pretending to be nice in that respect!"-"I am an artist. Your profession is entirely handicraft, you do all by certain rules. Now in my profession I take genius alone for my guide. Compare only a half boot to the grand military boot, and think of the application of permanent blacking."

"But, Sir, as you will not allow me to call you one of my fraternity, nor address

not us rather, who furnish the Graces with their slippers? Not one of your captivat ing objects are indebted to their boots for the smallest favour either from Love or Fortune. And how many women could I cite who have obtained the most brilliant success by their pretty little shoes. The story of Cinderella tells us she became a Princess from her little slipper. My son will not bring a principality to your Lucetta, but he will make her truly happy; Monsieur is as good as Madame, consent, therefore, to their union."

"I will; but it shall be on these conditions, that you shall put over your door and on your cards that you are an artist!"

TO THE EDITOR OF LA BELLE ASSEMBLEE.

SIR,-Palermo, in Sicily, as I am in formed, has recently witnessed a strange phenomenon, the report of which, I presume, will prove acceptable to your fair readers; I therefore shall transmit it to you verbatim as I received it.

Signora Cesarina Bocchetta, the wife of an opulent citizen of Palermo, had attained her thirty-sixth year, having hitherto been remarkable only for her charming wit, gentle manners, agreeable talents, and exquisite feelings. In other respects her emaciated frame, hollow eyes, and wan complexion, had gained her the affections of even such females of her acquaintance as were the less endowed with any share of beauty.

the truth, the Signora, at the age of thirtysix, is revived to the condition of a young and handsome woman, a character which she performs most skilfully in Palermo.

However, the most beneficial revolution is not to be effected gratuitously, without some costs: in cases like the present, it will happen that the acquisitions of the body are to be paid for out of the stock of the mental faculties. We know not what an idea the beauteous Cesarina has formed of the duties of her new existence, or what a havock the unprecedented alteration which she has experienced has made in her organization; but she is now subject to the following accidents. She will enquire, with all the appearance of candid simpliIt is now three months since a violent fit city-"What is that thing?"-the harp of illness, which nearly brought her to the from which she used to draw such melograve, ended in a crisis apparently most dious sounds. Her hand is become ignofortunate. Signora Bocchetta rose from rant of the use of those crayons that forher sick bed to breathe quite a new exist-merly had raised her name: nay, the meence. Her features, no longer distorted by mory of her heart, if I may be allowed the her sufferings, have undergone a favour-expression, is no less ungrateful than that able developement; her eyes have ceased of her fingers, for she no longer recognized shedding tears, and are now expressive of her former friends, but accosts with famia more animated language; embonpoint || liarity entire strangers. The sight even of has diffused over her whole person both her husband and daughters seems to exbloom and luxuriancy; in short, to speak" pose her to a relapse. Her mind has also

30

been greatly impaired; her so very pleasing ||phosis, and by way of consolation say, that conversation has made room for insigni- it will not last long. Her drawing-room ficant loquacity, and she no more answers is continually crowded with examiners, but in monosyllables scarcely audible; and who are anxious to find out how a little' her infatuation is carried to that degree, || more animation in the eyes, and`a' sınall' that she receives as an indispensable legi- additional dose of mucus in the cellular® timate tribute the condescendence which tissue, can alter so enormously kind hearther recent infirmity alone suggests. edness, the delicacy of the mind, and the Her female acquaintances, far from pity- concatenation of the faculties the most' ing her, are incensed at her metamor-essential to common understanding.

FUGITIVE POETRY.

TO A LADY.-WITH AN ALMANACK.

THIS little book, for one short year caress'd,
By all admired, and by most possess'd';
When out of date is thrown neglected by,
And doom'd to perish in obscurity;

At twelvemonth's end, resigns its place and
pow'r,

Nor longer marks the hapless day and hour,
When perjur'd Damon, in the silent grove,
To charming Delia vow'd eternal love."
The partial glory of its annual reign,
Becomes exchang'd for coldness and disdain,
Thus gen'rous females find themselves deceiv'd,
While selfish man contemns the good receiv'd;
May heav'n to you a kinder fortuné send,
To always have, yet never want a friend, I
Unlike this book, receive a better fate;
Be blest through life, and never out of date.

I:

Tho', flaming round, pestiferous brands are
h'url'd,

And Envy stalks, gigantic, through the world,
Yet that exists in Britain, favour'd scene,
Which still preserves her tranquil and serene,”
A magic charm enwreathes her lovely isle,
Bright in the glowing tints of Beauty's beaming
smile.

Nor shall she sink forgotten in the grave,
Whose high behest the rich impression gave,
A pattern fair, as mother, friend, or wife,
In all the gentle charities of life:
In genuine dignity of worth array'd,
She, bright example to the world 'display'd,"

Walk'd in the sacred path esteem'd and sure,
Adorn'd a splendid court, and bade the rites be
pure.

Prompt at the call to train ingenuous youth
In ways of pleasantness, of peace, and truth,
To cloathe the naked, or assuassive pour ́
Consoling comfort on th' enanguish'd hour-

REFLECTIONS ON NEW-YEAR'S DAY, Where ever Mercy points, with willing heart

1819.

morn,

To Summer's glow, and Autumn's golden horn,
Until returning Winter holds again
In solemn state, his monitory reign":

And nature thus, to man, from childhood gay,
Through youth, now grave, now flush'd in frolic
play,

And through sedate maturity, shall bring
The winter of his age-but ah! no second spring!
Thus Time, with warning voice, bids man at-
tend,

And court reflection as his faithful friend,
Improve the moments, whilst the moments last,
And live the life that shrinks not at the past,
For, as reflection comes, or friend, or foe,
Our days are crown'd with bliss, or stung with
woe;

See! Death approaches!—whạt avails the whole
If the world's empire gain'd, and lost th' im-
mortal soul?

Tho' much is wanting yet to conquer ill,
Tho' vice will struggle, nor remorse be still,

Fair female merit takes her active part,
She tends the cottage with benignant care,
She seeks the prison's gloom, and plants decorum
there.

Daughters of Albion! in the record true,
Deserved plaudits shall encircle you,

O, for your sakes, may brawling faction cease
To mar the musings of reposing peace,
Hush'd be the storm, the tumult's din resign'd,
And nobler passions elevate the mind,
And, soothing still, your gentle influence rise,
Stars of a soften'd world, gems of your native
skies!

THE EXPEDITION TO THÉ POLE,
THE Nile to our forefathers dead,''

Was a mystery whence it could roll;
They never could get to the head-

And we cannot get to the pole.
Our case is a nice one, I wis,

But if they would take my advice,

I think, in a matter like this,

There's nothing like breaking the ice."