the world; and so with individuals. This has his artistical, that his musical, that his poetical beer, which frothy liquor is preferred before that of all other taps; and the musician above has a number of brethren in other callings.

Jerome's high fortune is yet to come. From being captain of his company he is raised to be lieutenantcolonel of his regiment, and as such has the honor to be invited to the palace of the Tuileries with Madame Paturot. This great event is described in the following eloquent

manner:

"The day of the ball arrived, and numberless misfortunes with it. At ten o'clock my wife's hairdresser had not made his appearance, and my pumps were still absent. Servant after servant was despatched after these indispensable and dilatory articles, and it was eleven o'clock before we were en route. Even then our troubles were not over; in order to arrive at the Carrousel it was necessary to follow the file of carriages from the Rue Rivoli. The heavens poured down cataracts on the pavement, the carriages entered slowly one by one, and I had all but given orders to return home, and to wait a more favorable opportunity to exhibit my court suit; but Oscar, who in his quality of painter in ordinary to his majesty found means to get a ticket to every court gala in the season, had no idea of dressing himself to no purpose, and he succeeded in calming my ill humor. The carriages began to move a little more quickly, and presently we saw the palace staircase and balcony, which was to be our port in the

"Sire!' I added, with a loyal inflec tion of voice which I thought could not fail to produce some sensation in the bosom of his majesty; but fancy my surprise when I lifted up my head after the salute to perceive before me only the back of his majesty, who had turned round to speak to I don't know what ambassador of a northern court. Madame Paturot had likewise missed her entrée, which even cast upon her countenance a certain well as we could, we struggled into a corAt last, and as expression of ill humor. ner of the room, where, though tired, we were not able to sit down, as etiquette prevented us from being seated in their majesties' presence. To this regulation I was resigned, but I could not console myself for not having been able to captivate for a moment the regards of my sovereign. That royal back oppressed me. It poisoned my fete.

"However, as I looked, I began soon to perceive that his majesty might be blazé even in respect of bows as elegant as mine. The gracious monarch performed no less than three thousand bows in the course of the evening, his illustrious head bobbing up and down like the piston of a fire-pump. There must be certain state consolations for royalty, otherwise how could kings get through their duty? Far from envying kings, I pity them heartily. Few subjects would bear the duties which their station obliges sovereigns to go through. From the place where I stood, I could admire that gift of smiling, that elastic play of muscles with which Heaven has endowed monarchs, and which is a proof of the superiority of their rank as individually of the royal vocation. As I saw the old dowagers step up their fallalas, the respectable old peers in their powder, all those fat, meagre, wrinkled, toothless, sickly, vul gar faces which followed in an almost in"The stair was as much crowded as terminable file, I wondered how a human the street had been previously, we could head could maintain its calm in the midst only ascend the steps with infinite pains of such a whirlwind of such a suffocating and precaution. We had been practising heat, of such doubtful odors as filled the at home the court manner of ascending scented air, of all these flowers and the stair, and lo! all our studies had been ribbons, bare necks and epaulets, diain vain. Gentlemen's swords crossed to- monds, bald heads, wigs, and powder. gether, ladies' trains grew rebellious and The uniforms especially fatigued the eye persisted in wandering under gentlemen's with their colors and embroideries, with legs, and, by the time we arrived at the their foreign stars and crosses, their grand entry of the reception rooms, we were all cordons, and German eagles, their garters, crumpled, rumpled, trampled, and in dis-iron crowns, golden fleeces, Cicinnatuses, order. At last, thanks to the hussiers and the servants in waiting, and thanks to a good deal of pushing and struggling forward, we arrived at the grand saloon where the king and queen were. I had studied at home a low bow of the most elegant kind, having perfected myself in it with infinite care, and, when I arrived near his majesty, executed it, I flatter myself not unsuccessfully.

storm.

and a chain of stars and what not, sparkling and twinkling in a thousand coats, civil and military, passing and crossing perpetually before my eyes. Heavens, what a scene of luxury it was, and what an overpowering suffocating enthusiasm I felt. There I stood, with my elbow in the side of a marshal of France, my heel on the corn of a foreign plenipotentiary, te the midst of all the great names of

Europe, and the finest diamonds in the world. It was an honor of which a man may acknowledge himself to be proud, an honor which no Paturot before me had ever enjoyed. And, when the factious rebels of the opposition pretend that the Revolution of July has miscarried, I answer no! it has carried hosiers to the Tuileries, and I have no doubt that it was the end of the institution.

"After the reception was over, their majesties retired according to custom, and dancing began. It was for this moment that Madame Paturot had been in waiting. She had indulged herself in a look so remarkably décolletée that she hoped at least to catch the eye of one of the princes; and, seated on a stool, she flung round her, for this important end, all the fascinations of her glance, and all the seductions of her fan. I saw clearly that my presence could in no wise aid my wife's manœuvres, and therefore disappeared in the direction of the buffet. Ah! you rascally pamphleteers, who are always sneering at the entertainments of the most generous of sovereigns, I wish I had you in that refreshment-room placed by the side of one of those tables always covered with dishes of the most delicious meats, though these were always disappearing down the throats of the gormandizers around. With every respect for the high society which frequents the Tuileries, their appetite, I must say, is prodigious. As I examined the dishes as they came and disappeared, it certainly seemed to me that their excellencies the ambassadors were in a state of famine, that the plenipotentiaries must have been starving, that the great cordons covered stomachs still I must also greater than themselves.

admit that several peeresses and deputies' ladies were doing their duty round the tables, and that the three powers of our state were there represented by some of the stoutest jaws and most capacious abdomens in our country.

"To this spectacle, which filled my soul with admiration for the magnificence of my king, I devoted the greater part of

my evening. As far as turkeys, patties, jellies, wines and plate went, it was, in deed, a noble sight, and perhaps I should never to this moment have been able to snatch myself away from these Capuan delights, had not Malvina come up rather abruptly to join me.

Let us go,' said she, with an air of

extreme ill humor. "But,' said I.

"No buts,' said she, let us be off.' "And so we went to our carriage. During the drive home Madame Paturot maintained a profound silence, a precur: sor of a storm. I could not imagine what was the cause which rendered her so taciturn and so sombre.

"What a splendid fête!' said I, by way of breaking the ice.

"A pretty fête, indeed! it was good enough, though, for greedy creatures like you!"

"Ah, Malvina!' I replied in a tender

tone.

"Not a single quadrille - not one!' said she, going off at once. 'Pretty prin. ces they arc-pretty calves they have, an inch all round! wadded Pretty dancers, pretty calves, as much fat on them as on the back of my hand! Pooh! it makes me yawn only to think, - only to think of them.'

"This sortie explained every thing to me. In spite of those incendiary glances of hers, Malvina had never been asked to dance."

If the respected reader, like the writer of this, has never had the honor of figuring at a ball at the Tuileries (at home, of course, we are as regular at Pimlico as Lord Melbourne used to be), here is surely in a couple of pages a description of the affair so accurate, that, after translating it, I for my part feel as if I were quite familiar with the palace of the French king. I can see Louis Philippe grinning endlessly, ceaselessly bobbing his august head up and down. I can see the footmen in red, the officiers d'ordonnance in stays, the spindle-shanked young princes, frisking round to the sound of the brass bands. The chandeliers, the ambassadors, the flaccid Germans with their finger-rings, the Spaniards looking like gilded oldclothesmen; here and there a deputy lieutenant, of course, and one or two hapless Britons in their national court-suits, that make the French mob, as the Briton descends from his carriage, exclaim, Oh, ce marquis! Fancy besides fifteen hundred women, of whom fourteen hundred and fifty are ugly-it is the proportion in France. And how much easier is it to enjoy this Barmecide dance in the description of honest Paturot than to dress at midnight, and pay a guinea for a carriage, and keep out of one's wholesome bed, in order to look at King Louis Philippe smiling! What a mercy it is not to be a gentleman! What a blessing it is not to be obliged

to drive a cab in white kid gloves, and perfect contentment. He says he nor to sit behind a great floundering is quite happy. Ought he not to be racing-tailed horse of Rotten-Row, so, who has made a thousand readexpecting momentarily that he will ers happy, and perhaps a little jump you into the barouche full of wiser ? ladies just ahead! What a mercy it is not to be obliged to wear tight lacquered boots, nor to dress for dinner, nor to go to balls at midnight, nor even to be a member of the House of Commons, nor to be prevented from smoking a cigar if you are so minded! All which privileges of poverty inay Fortune long keep to us! Men do not know half their luck, that is the fact. If the real truth were known about things, we should have their Graces of Sutherland and Devonshire giving up their incomes to the national debt, and saying to the country, "Give me a mutton-chop, and a thousand a year!"

In the fortunes of honest Paturot this wholesome moral is indicated with much philosophic acumen, as those will allow who are inclined from the above specimen of their quality to make themselves acquainted with the further history of his fortunes. Such persons may read how Jerome, having become a colonel of the National Guards, becomes, of course, a member of the Legion of Honor, how he is tempted to aspire to still further dignities, how he becomes a deputy, and how his constituents are served by him; how being deputy, he has perhaps an inclination to become minister, but that one fine day he finds that his house cannot meet certain bills which are presented for payment, and so the poor fellow becomes a bankrupt.

He gets a little place, he retires with Malvina into a country town; she is exceedingly fond of canaries and dominoes, and Jerome cultivates cabbages and pinks with great energy

I have just heard that "Jerome Paturot" is a political novel; one of "The Reviews despatches this masterpiece in a few growling lines, and pronounces it to be a failure. Perhaps it is a political novel, perhaps there is a great deal of sound thinking in this careless, familiar, sparkling narrative, and a vast deal of reflection hidden under Jerome's ordinary cotton night-cap; certainly it is a most witty and entertaining story, and as such is humbly recommended by the undersigned to all lovers of the Pantagruelian philosophy. It is a great thing now-a-days to get a funny book which makes you laugh, to read three volumes of satire in which there is not a particle of bad blood, and to add to one's own knowledge of the world, too, as one can't help doing by the aid of this keen and goodhumored wit. The author of " Jerome Paturot" is M. Reybaud, understood to be a grave man, dealing in political economy, in Fourierism, and other severe sciences. There is a valuable work by the late Mr. Henry Fielding the police-magistrate upon the precaution of thieving in the metropolis, and some political pamphlets of merit by the same author; but it hath been generally allowed that the history of Mr. THOMAS JONES by the same Mr. Fielding is amongst the most valuable of the scientific works of this author. And in like manner, whatever may be the graver works of M. Reybaud, I heartily trust that he has some more of the Paturot kind in his brain or his portfolio, for the benefit of the lazy, novel-reading, unscien tific world.

M. A. TITMARSH.

A BOX OF NOVELS.

THE ARGUMENT. - Mr. Yorke having despatched to Mr. Titmarsh, in Switzerland, a box of novels (carriage paid), the latter returns to Oliver an essay upon the same, into which he introduces a variety of other interesting discourse. He treats of the severity of critics; of his resolutions to reform in that matter, and of the nature of poets; of Irishmen; of Harry Lorrequer, and that Harry is a sentimental writer; of Harry's critics; of Tom Burke; of Rory O'More; of the Young Pretender and the Duke of Bordeaux; of Irish Repeal and Repeal songs, concerning one of which he addresseth to Rory O'More words of tender reproach. He mentioneth other novels found in the box, viz., "The Miser's Son," and "The Burgomaster of Berlin." He bestoweth a parting benediction on Boz.

experience.

The fact is, that the blackbirds of letters - the harmless, kind-singing creatures who line the hedge-sides and chirp and twitter as nature bade them (they can no more help singing, these poets, than a flower can help smelling sweet), - have been treated much too ruthlessly by the watchboys of the press, who have a love for flinging stones at the little innocents, and pretend that it is their duty, and that every wren or sparrow is likely to destroy a whole field of wheat, or to turn out a monstrous bird of prey. Leave we these vain sports and savage pastimes of youth, and turn we to the benevolent philosophy of maturer age.

hawks (this is not the least personal) | hended at once by a person of your as it did upon the gallant young noblemen who used a few years since to break the heads of policemen, and paint apothecaries' shops pea-green with amusement, perhaps, but with any thing but respect and liking. And as those young noblemen, recognizing the justice of public opinion, have retired to their estates, which they are now occupied peacefully in administering and improving, so have the young earls and marquises of the court of REGINA of Regent Street calmly subsided into the tillage of the pleasant fields of literature, and the cultivation of the fresh green crops of good-humored thought. My little work on the differential calculus, for instance, is in a most advanced state; and you will correct me if I break a confidence in saying, that your translation of the first hundred and ninety-six chapters of the Mahabarata will throw some extraordinary light upon a subject most intensely interesting to England, viz., the Sanscrit theosophy.

This introduction, then, will have prepared you for an exceedingly humane and laudatory notice of the packet of works which you were good enough to send me, and which, though they doubtless contain a great deal which the critic would not write (from the extreme delicacy of his taste, and the vast range of his learning), also contain, between ourselves, a great deal that the critic could not write if he would ever so; and this is a truth which critics are apt to for get in their judgments of works of fiction. As a rustical boy, hired at twopence a week, may fling stones at the blackbirds, and drive them off, and possibly hit one or two, yet if he get into the hedge and begin to sing, will he make a wretched business of the music, and Lubin and Colin and the dullest swains of the village will laugh egregiously at his folly; so the critic employed to assault the poet. . . . But the rest of the simile is obvious, and will be appre

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A characteristic of the Irish writers and people, which has not been at all appreciated by the English, is, I think, that of extreme melancholy. All Irish stories are sad, all humorous Irish songs are sad; there is never a burst of laughter excited by them but, as I fancy, tears are near at hand; and from "Castle Rackrent" downwards, every Hibernian tale that I have read is sure to leave a sort of woful, tender impression. Mr. Carleton's books - and he is by far the greatest genius who has written of Irish life are pre-eminently melancholy. Griffin's best novel, " The Collegians," has the same painful character; and I have always been surprised, while the universal English critic has been laughing over the stirring stories of Harry Lorrequer, that he has not recognized the fund of sadness beneath. The most jovial song that I know of in the Irish language, is "The night before Larry was stretched;" but along with the joviality, you always carry the impression of the hanging the next morning. "The Groves of Blarney," is the richest nonsense that the world has known since the days of Rabelais; but is it not very pathetic nonsense? The folly is uttered with a sad look, and to the