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ances, and a proportionate undercurrent of quiet amusement to himself: while to see, in public print, the kudos given to another person was at times exceedingly entertaining. One of the best examples of this kind was in connection with an elegant volume, published by Bailliére, of Regent-street, London, and Broadway, New York, and written by a friend of Lord Lytton. It was on an occult science* towards which Lord Lytton was known to be much disposed, although he objected to accept the dedication for certain satisfactory reasons assigned. The author of the book, who had been adjutant in a crack regiment of dragoons for five years, chose the nom-de-plume of "A Cavalry Officer," and knowing that the present writer had been helping others, asked him to assist in introducing the work to the public. After some consideration, he agreed to write a prefatory address, with the understanding that not a word of his should be altered. The condition was accepted and fulfilled, and when the book came out, among other complimentary notices in the papers, THE SUNDAY TIMES, taking up a certain point, said -"But upon this part of his argument it is but fair that we should let the Cavalry Officer speak for himself," and then quoted two entire pages from the prefatory address, of which the author of the book had not written a single word. On another occasion the writer had sent three articles to a local paper, and, some time afterwards, while walking with A and B, A, addressing B, said " Come, B, you may as well confess yourself the writer of those articles. I know it was either you or C, but our fellows all say it was you." After a short interval of silence, B, jauntily observed that, if all the fellows had made up their minds, he supposed it was useless for him to continue denying the authorship. It would have been a pity to spoil such a joke; and so B marched off with colours flying.

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With the exception of a song called " 'Buds of late summer days,' "* written to music at the request of Madame Valkenaere Albertazzi, and published by Messrs. Oliver and Co., of Bond-street†; together with the 11th ode of Anacreon, translated for a madrigal which has been set to music but remains still unpublished; Galatea, previously mentioned; and the patriotic song, "Army +January 18, 1857.

Navy and Volunteers,"* the last two only here reprinted -all that the writer has produced in the way of verse, has been given on the impetus of the occasion, and may therefore be considered as of spontaneous growth.

To some who may be turning over these pages it will perhaps occasion surprise to identify the writer of certain very light pieces with the serious minded author of "Observations on intellectual culture and modes of acquiring knowledge," accompanied by a list of correlative MSS, such as those on the Greek Prepositions and Enclitics; with a complete rudimentary Greek grammar. A precis of Latin Prosody. Rules for the French genders, and other facile memorials relative to speaking and writing that language. Order of learning the Italian verbs. 3,600 years of Chronology. A tabulated history of England. The framework of the histories of Greece and Rome. The early dynasties of France. Memorials for Historical Data. Popular Readings of Geography. Formula of Pianoforte fingering. The seven positions on the violin simplified for students of Campagnoli; and a variety of other subjects which it would be tedious to mention in this place.

This apparent inconsistency may be accounted for by the fact of his having, during a greater part of his life, been forced to adopt the rôle of an idle man, partly through uncertain health, and in a great measure from incapacity for any prolonged exertion; and not being over much enslaved by the exigencies of fashionable society, he has found time to occupy himself in a multiform variety of ways. There are many idle men, so called, who generally find plenty of occupation for themselves when out of sight of their acquaintances. This may be taken as an axiom. Then the necessity for change has its claim. Absence of occupation we know is not always rest, and as the writer has never indulged much in Chess or Billiards, and but very little in Archery, Dominoes, Back-gammon, Drafts, Cards or SKITTLES he may, perhaps be permitted the excuse of choosing to occupy a portion of the time often so filled up by others, in a way more congenial with his own inclinations. Human nature not only demands rest but insists also upon occasional recreation. There will be seasons with all of us when we are disposed to say

"Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero
Pulsanda tellus,"

WIND TOSSED LEAVES has been chosen as an appropriate
title for the little swirl, which has been here swept up
and collected from among the scattered contents of an
old oak paneled worm eaten chest, into which many
bundles had been cast one by one, from time to time, as
they appeared in their original places. Wind tossed in-
deed have many been; blown to the East Indies and the
West. All over England and far into North Britain.
From London, Dover, Brighton, Portsmouth, Southamp-
ton, Bristol, Doncaster in particular, and other places,
they have drifted about in all directions.
Some among

them have found their way to Canada, Australia, and New Zealand, others have reached Japan and been read in Singapore, and reprinted at Hong-Kong; and some were set up ten years since at Shanghae by ingenious Chinese compositors ignorant of all English written or verbal, except their own peculiar pigeon jargon. At this very time leaves of other kinds are fluttering on their way to China, and to Kingston on the coast, and to the quarters of Her Majesty's Forces, four thousand feet above the sea, just half way up the mountain heights of the island of Jamaica.

The little urnful here reproduced, and under his own name reclaimed, is intended chiefly for presentation, in token of friendship and esteem; and also as a not ungraceful acknowledgement on the author's part to those many kind friends, and acquaintances, whose liberal and lavish hospitality he has so frequently enjoyed and so fully appreciated; but which distant residence, uncertain health, and other circumstances have too frequently prevented his reciprocating. Nevertheless, sometimes while sipping his modest glass of Hock, which is not Steinberg Cabinet; or enjoying the flower perfume of a Sauterne which is not Yquem, and contrasting its deep straw color with the richer golden fulgence of a certain wondrous old Madeira, herein duly honored; or when, under the "silver lamp light," he compares the sunset tint of a Pommade with the recollection of a deeper glow in the "Thirty Fours" and "Forty Sevens " on the tables of more fortunate friends, he calls to mind the words of the Augustan Poet in the "Vile potabis modicis Sabinum" invitation to Mecenas, and happily applies them.

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L'un gagne l'autre perd. After all, the compensation balance in this world will invariably be found somehow exquisitely adjusted; and, what cannot always be returned equivalent in kind, we may often more than repay by other means in loyalty and loving kindness.

Those, who only know what it is even to attempt the art of painting landscapes after nature, not only obtain a quicker eye for color, but acquire a keener admiration of the atmospherical influences acting upon the varicolored and ever changing beauties of earth and sky and sea. They soon learn to discover new sources of infinite worship, in the cloud thrown shadows on the wine-dark billows of the ocean, as Homer saw them, and in the ineffable blue emerald hues of its lucid depths; in the delicate pale green of early autumnal evening skies, or in the deep earthward purple shadowings of the westering sun, and myriad lesser shades of every tone and tinct. So he who has only tried his own feeble wing in a few flutterings in the different ranges of composition will have obtained a more perfect taste for all kinds of genuine poetry, whether serious, dramatic, erotic, witty, or humorous; and will necessarily have cultivated, in such essayings, not only a higher power of appreciating, but a larger capability for thoroughly enjoying the more perfect and loftier productions of superior and inspired minds.

"Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum."

Nor, on the other hand, does it befall every versifier to see his lines carved in the precious metals or occupying honored places in stone; or amid the lyrics of the day to own even one marked as a favorite by popular approval. The writer may also remember with satisfaction having been a contributor to the old series of "Colburn's New Monthly Magazine," a periodical now in the second half century of its existence, and with which have been associated some of the most illustrious names in contemporaneous English literature.

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