distant Colony. A short passage from my auto-biography will perhaps be found of use to those, who, as the poet has described it,

It should be known, that on all gala nights, my father's superior abilities were in great requisition, and as he was not gifted with ubiquity, I frequently acted in his stead. Now it happened that Mrs. Smith, gave one night a grand party to the elite of the neighbourhood in which I resided, and as the eldest Miss Parkins was to be there, my assistance was required to titivate, as the genteel phrase is, that ornament of nature, which, crop-fashion, decorated the caput of the beautiful Amelia.

Miss Amelia Parkins, as she was generally called, to distinguish her as the eldest, was a young lady of vast ability, her father, Mr. P., had once been a carcase butcher, but hearing of the fame of Mr. St. John Long, of rubbing memory, had turned Doctor, so it may easily be supposed she came of an intellectual stock. Her hair was of a dark, sandy color, which bewitchingly flung a great grace about her upper being, shading from view, as if in mercy, her left eye, whose engaging obliquity of vision, had shot darts, from its indirect glances, direct to the hearts of all the young men in the vicinity, while her nose, delightfully tapering to a point, which turned up a trifle at its extremity, seemed, by its leaning to the sinister side, to have a peculiar affection for that optic. Her mouth was of no inconsiderable extent, and in the centre, projecting a little over the under lip, were two dentrical organs, of about the whiteness of discolored ivory, of that class usually denominated "bread-andbutter teeth." I have already said, that she was a young lady of vast ability, and had written three "Odes to the Moon," and one to a Deceiver," and with so much beauty, and so much genius, she became irrisistible; besides, her tall, spare person, was this night to be adorned with a yellow silk dress, and a bouquet of roses in her bosom, so that it became impossible that I, who have “ bowed at beauty's shrine" ever since I knew what beauty was, should be unmoved as I passed my hands over that part which crowns beauty with glory.

When I entered the room, I was seized with a strange nervousness, at beholding the young lady in her dishabille: I tremblingly placed my hand in the pocket of my apron, and drew from thence my comb and curling tongs. I placed the latter in the fire, and turning my attention to her head, combed the golden locks of the adorable, straight round it is well-known that the irons do not require a long acquaintance with the fire, to make them hot, and as I was about to take them from their warm resting place, I discovered to my dismay, I had placed the wrong ends in the fire!! Fortunately for myself I was provided with a second pair, and lost not a moment in supplanting the others with them, while I faultered out some excuse

for my folly, coupled with a compliment to her person, which was, or I fancied it was, well received. The irons were soon ready, and I, not daring yet to encounter the "excess of light" from her eyes, commenced with a palpitating heart to form into ringlets the occiput of Miss Amelia. Curl after curl, formed, as it were, a gentle cascade, down to the organs of amativeness and philo-progenitiveness, from which, as they were very prominent, and of great extent, I thought highly of her heart and natural disposition. All went on very smoothly, the work of embellishment was nearly completed, when to arrange satisfactorily the disposal of the last curl, she expressed a wish to display herself before the glass-she rose for that purpose, I attending with the candle. Love for that divine object, swelled within my heart, till having already burst my waistcoat strings, I began to fear the very buttons would start from their confinement; and I believe as I passed the candle to and fro, to present all the parts of the head-dress to her view, I may have breathed out an "I love you." In the midst of this sweet delirium, a tremendous scream burst upon my ear, making me leap some feet from the ground, and in an instant I was levelled to the floor by a blow from her fist! In my examination of her phrenological bumps, I had not noticed that of combativeness, which, from the force her hand displayed to my head, must have been unusually large; and looking from my reclinement up to the object of my devotions, I beheld, oh ! direful calamity, I had set fire to her hair-thereby cooking her carrots in a manner not described by Mrs. Glasse, or by any culinary Professor, in any "Universal Cookery Book" yet published.

How I shrunk out of the house, may, as is commonly said on such occasions, "be more easily imagined than described;" this, however, is the fact, that I dared not shew myself in the neighbourhood again, and had I not decamped under cover of a pair of false whiskers, which my father had just completed for a dandy of the first water, I think I should have been hooted to the world's end.

Reader, if you are a barber, never allow the tender passion to overcome you when called out to a lady; never assist her in displaying her person before the glass; or, as in my case, while you are holding a candle to her, you might as well be "holding a candle to the devil!"

DEN HEER VEERHUIS.

*K*

"A

NEIDER

DUTCH TALE."

Reader! hast thou ever been at Amsterdam? if thou canst answer in the affirmative, thou wilt perhaps follow me from my lodgings Wapen van Amsterdam," to a little money changer's in a

at the "

narrow street opposite the Stadt House. But if thou hast never visited that city of dykes and piles; I say if thou hast not done so, never leave Europe again without making a trip to that ancient capital-in the mean time, follow me or not, just as you please, to the "gelt vechslers" in question.

66

One November morning in the year 1813, when a genuine Netherland fog had paid a visit to Amsterdam, I was preparing to start by the Trekschuit" for Naarden, when it suddenly occurred to me that I had omitted procuring a sufficiency of current coin, to enable me to proceed on my journey. It was necessary for me, then, to lose no time, and turning from the "Wapen van Amsterdam" and proceeding down the "Rokin," I soon passed the Exchange, and a narrow street brought me to the open space in front of the Stadt House, which, if I recollect right, is named the Dam. Having proceeded so far, I had then to enquire for the house of the money changer, with whom I had such important business to transact. The morning was so desperately uncomfortable, that the very Hollanders themselves seemed anxious, by keeping their mouths shut, to prevent the fog from suffocating them at last, a jolly-faced Mynheer pointed out the house, and almost immediately my hand was on the door, and I entered the passage, only just observing on a board which projected over it-Jan Veerhuis, "gelt vechsler." The passage by which I entered, was so dark, that I could scarcely find my way to the counting-house of Mynheer Veerhuis, but this difficulty overcome, I ushered myself into a small dark room, with a broad counter dividing it, and resting upon which, were strong iron bars, extending to the ceiling, much resembling those of the cage, through which the pretty sisters of convents are permitted to communicate with their friends of this world. However, I am not in a convent, but merely at Mynheer Veerhuis's, the money changer's, who was a wealthy man, and whom, it appears, had taken the precaution of securing his property, by preventing the possibility of any individual who might be on the outerside, having connexion with the bags of gold and silver coin that were to be seen in his iron coffers. Mynheer Veerhuis was even still more prudent than are those sober lady abbesses who permit the treasures of the convent to feel the warm pressure of the hand, given by a visitor; Mynheer Veerhuis was loth that his treasure should be so warmly pressed by the hands of his visitors, and in order to prevent this, the iron bars were, to the heighth of about five feet, covered with wire net work, and only one small hole, close to the counter, some six inches square, left open, through which the money passed. On my entering this dark and dismal dungeon, several persons were on the outside this grating, transacting business with a young man in the inner side, whilst a little, old, dirty-looking cripple, half smothered in flannel, was busily engaged at a table with two or three bags of coin. A little silver coffee pot, with a charcoal fire underneath, was on the table beside him, and as if rewarding himself at certain periods of

his occupation, a portion of coffee was gulped-quite methodically. I had a few minutes to wait, during which time, I passed in my mind, (as I considered,) some trite observations; contrasting the wretched appearance and riches of the old miser, with my merry age and the few golden guineas with which my relations had started me for a long and tedious journey-"Look at the old miser," thought I," will all his piles of gold and silver, purchase him one minute's happiness-one moment of additional life? nay, the very flannel with which he is wrapped up, is of more real value to the man, than would be the gold mines of Peru! but ask him his opinion? He values one of these little coins which I have come to exchange, far more than the six yards of flannel which keep his life and soul together and why? because in the market, the six yards of flannel may be bought for fifteen guilders nineteen stivers, whereas the guinea is worth an odd stiver more, making it of sixteen guilders sterling value-a consideration of importance in the estimation of a Dutch Jew.-Poor, miserable! he heapeth up riches, and cannot tell who shall gather them;'-if I had his hard-earned gains I would."-Here my reverie was interrupted by the young man, who, it seems, had served those with whom he was engaged on my entering, and having uselessly repeated two or three times "Mynheer!" and some other jargon, which to me, then, was as edifying as Arabic to a dormouse: at length, imagining I was ignorant of the euphonic neider Dutch, tried his luck with-" Monsieur que voulez vous? This brought us to business, when I found him to be most particularly anxious for the interests of Mynheer Veerhuis; he first bartered me down considerably below the usual exchangethen told me there was no demand for gold, and finished by cheating me out of a stiver and a half. Whilst we were thus busily engaged, my ear was suddenly regaled with music of no ordinary description; it was melodious in the extreme-it was not the sound of a wind or stringed instrument, neither was it that of the human voice. None were in the room but the old man, the clerk, and myself; it was most certainly neither the young man nor myself-I looked at the old jew, his money occupied his sole attention, nor did he or his hopeful pupil seem to notice the sound; I looked around the room, again and again, and could see nothing more musical than gold and silver. Thus perplexed, reader, thou mayest imagine my astonishment, when I heard the little merry air of "Life let us cherish," warbled in the most elegant manner. I was struck with amazement; I never can explain how it happened that it did not occur to me, to immediately ask the young man from whence proceeded the sound-but so it was. My money matters being arranged, and the tune being finished, away I went, pondering over the strange circumstance of hearing one of the most popular airs of my own country, in a little, dirty, gold changer's shop at Amsterdam, during a period, so distressing as that of the year 1813. I very often thought of the affair, and at length I concluded that there must have been in the room, one of the Geneva musical snull-boxes,

which were just then making their appearance. I was in time for the Trekschuit my journey was completed-I returned home, and forget all about "Life let us cherish," and vechslers, and dark counting-houses.

Years passed on, nor was it till about 1818, that chance brought me again to Amsterdam. Accidentally walking one day by Mynheer Veerhuis's, the board on which Mynheer Veerhuis's calling was announced, brought to my recollection the little warbling voice I had heard five years before-"Is old Mynheer then still alive?” thought I" on the morrow I will call for old acquaintance sake." I had with me, English paper, which I could either exchange in Amsterdam or at Hamburgh, to which place I was travelling. The morrow was as fine a day as Amsterdam ever witnessed in June. Again I trudged the "Rokin," every house of which was painted in the same style and colour as when I last passed; indeed, so little change had taken place, that I even began to fancy that I met the very same people in the street, I had met there five years before; it is true, every now and then a rather spruce Englander insolently sauntered along, but, save the sight of these-the fine weather, and the stench of the canals, no one could have pointed out an existing difference. On entering 'den heer Veerhuis's,' there was the old fellow at the very table I left him, and although it was as I have before said, the month of June, there he was, all wrapped up in flannel— the same, in fact, as when I last saw him; there was the perpetual boiling silver coffee-pot before him, and from appearances, there were before him the very same bags of coin. He took his sips of coffee at the same regular intervals-and there was no change with this money changer. I looked next for the young man-he was not there. The office was full of people, and I had to wait my turn; I had scarcely been in the room two minutes, when the selfsame note was again heard. "Life let us cherish," was warbled most melodiously. I was now, more than ever, determined to have some explanation with the man who acted as money changer, respecting these sounds. The little melody of "Life let us cherish,' was no sooner finished, than the same warble commenced, and went through, with the utmost precision, the little air of "Saw ye my father?" when I heard this, I must own I was astonished beyond measure; I most minutely scrutinized, with my eyes, every thing in the room, and again I decided there was nothing there more musical than silver and gold. My turn came, I handed my English Bank notes to the man who was the cashier, as he may be termed, I looked hard at him, and he looked stedfastly at me, our eyes recognized each other—it was the same, the self-same man that cheated me out of the stiver and a half, five years before, from a stripling, he had become a full-grown man. He took my notes and handed them to Mynheer Veerhuis;-"The exchange is 12 7-8," said I. "We do not want English paper," said the old cripple, "but we will give 12 5-8, if you will.' I had gained a little experience within five years; I knew better the value of money, I was