MISCELLANEA.

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume II, Issue 118, 16 September 1846, Page 3

MISCELLANEA.

On the Growing' of Wool, and its Effects upon the Soil.— The rearing of wool affords another beautiful illustration; both of the kind of food which animals require for particular purposes, and of the effect which a peculiar husbandry must slowly produce upon the soil. Wool and hair are distinguished from the fleshy parts of the animal by the large proportion of sulphur they contain. Perfectly clean and dry wool contains ahout 5 per cent, of sulphur — or every 100 lb. contain 5 lb. The quantity as well as the quality of the wool yielded by a single sheep varies much with the breed, the climate, the constitution, the food, arid consequently with the soil, on which the food is grown. The Hereford sheep, which are kept lean and give the finest wool, yield only , 1^ lb. ; but "a Merino often gives a fleece weighing 10 lb. and 1 1 lb., and-some-times as much as 12 lb.. The number of sheep in Great Britain and amount to '3o millions, and their yield of wool to 111 millions of pounds, or about 4 lb. to the fleece. ■ This quantity of wool contains 5 millions pounds of sulphur,' which is of course all ex.rac'tedfrom the soil. If we suppose this sulphur to exist in, and to be extracted from the soil in the form of gypsum — then the plants which the sheep live upon must -take out from the soil to produce the wool only 30 millions of pounds, or 13,000 tons gypsum.- »"* Now, though the proportion of this gypsum lost by any one sheep farm in a year is comparatively small — yet it is reasonable to believe that, by the long growth of wool on hilly land, to which nothing is ever added, either by art or from natural sources, those grasses must gradually cease to grow in which sulphur most largely abounds, and which favour, therefore, the growth of wool. J In other words, the produce of wool is likejr to diminish, by lapse of time, where it hajjfor centuries btf en yearly carried off the land *-and, again, this produce

is likely to be increased in amount when such land is dressed with gypsum or other manure in which sulphur naturally exists.

v Immense Destruction of Plantations. — The almost unprecedented late gale i has been severely felt among the Highland ' and other plantations. Trees on the Inches j of Perth which had stood the blast for 100 years were stripped of their branches, brokeu in their trunks, or torn up by the roots. A most beautiful lombardy poplar, the crowning beauty of the North Inch, was torn to pieces and levelled with the dust, greatly damaging in its fall several other trees in the clump beside it. Another of the same description at Deadlands, agreat ornament near the west end of the bridge, was uprooted and fell into the river. Strong ashes and other hardy trees were shivered and torn on the South Inch, and the fruit-bearing trees in gardens suffered materially. A large number of trees were blown down along the east bank of the Tay opposite Perth. At Scone, wood to the value of more .than £I,ooo shared the same fate. At Moncrieff and Dupolin the havoc was immense. From Castlehuntly, Logiealmond, Lynedoch, and other places, we have accounts of great devastation ; at the last mentioned, a roup of wood had been advertised for- that day, but the number of trees blown down or uprooted was about five times that of those marked off for sale. The fine woods about Methven Castle have also sustained extensive damage. But the forests about Dunkely have suffered perhaps more severely than any. There is scarcely a standing tree on Craig-y-barns, and CraigVinian is little better. The number broken by the wind or torn up by the roots in that neighbourhood, is variously estimated from 20,000 to 30,000. In various parts of the country the barn yards give evidence of the severity of the hurricane. Grpat numbers of stacks were blown over and scattered abroad before the Any of the tempest, nnd the loss in this respect is considerable. — Perth Constitutional.

Discoveries at Pompeii. — The latest excavatiqjismadeat Pompeii, by theßelgian cAor^ff d'affaires, have been exceedingly interesting. A house was laid open in the quarter of the people. Twenty workmen were employed at the task, and the entrance-room furnished about twenty-five articles, vases, cups, altars, and bronze patera?. Another room, from which a narrow passage led to the kitchen, contained some large earthen jars. In the kitchen, the tinning of the saucepans was still bright. A large boiler, two jars, with handles, light and transparent, objects exceedingly rare in collections, were also found there. The next excavations were to be made i i the workshops of sculpture of the town.

Protection to Nightingales. — A, curious order of the police was lately issued at Berlin. With a view of preventing the diminution of nightingales in their natural state of liberty, it is decreed that every person in Prussia who keeps a nightingale in a cage shall pay an annual tax of 10 thalers (40 francs), and that any person putting a nightingale in future into a cage, without giving information to the police, shall he fined 30 thalers.

A Missing Officer. — The following most extraordinary advertisement has been issued by Mr. La Trobe. We have a shrewd suspicion that the worthy Superintendent bad a pretty good Idea that " The Chief Protector " was protecting his own interests somewhere} and leaving the blacks to take care of themselves, or he would never have issued a notice in such terms. The concluding sentence is as coolly contemptuous as anything, we have read for a long time : — "The Chief Protector of Aborigines. — As no intelligence of the above officer, whether official or otherwise, has been received at this office since the time of bis departure from Melbourne, ostensibly on one of his periodical visits to the tribes within the Port Phillip district, some time about the 24th March' last, the, Superintendent would feel himself indebted to any resident of the district who would 1 intimate, by a communication addressed to this office, where the above officer may have been recently seen, and what he proposed doing. This . inquiry is made ' fiom considerations wholly unconnected with any fears respecting the Chief Protector's personal safety, of which, wherever be may be, no reasonable doubt whatsoever is entertained. C. J. La Trobe. Superintendent's; Office, Ist July, 1846." ■

Dr. Lang and the Township of Geelong. — The Geelong Advertiser, of the 13ih June, contains an elaborate refutation of the 1 statements of Dr. Lang on the policy of Sir George Gipps, with regard to the formation of the township of Geelong, in the debate on the address in reply to his Excellency's opening speech. The Rev. Doctor stated, " that Sir Richard Bourke refused to plant a township at Geelong, on the ground that the Government was not prepared to go to the expense of supplying tht inhabitan:§ " with' water." That the principle on which Sir George GippS had acted bad not only been the reverse of this, but that he built a town, not only without looking to the supply of wa-

ter, but in defiance of Lord John Russell's recommendation, that the minimum price of town allotments should be £100 per acre, he had made the minimum price £300 per acre, and then finding them to go off slowly, he planned a new township, called South Geelong, at which the minimum price was fixed at £150 per acre. In reply to these statements of the precise and veracious gentleman, the Advertiser avers that the town of Geelong was laid out several months before the arrival of Sir George Gipps, by Sir Richard Bourke, whose only question was as to the exact site of the town. It was however fixed in its present position by the advice of Captain Fyans, who undertook to construct a dam across the j river at a trifling cost, which would prevent the influx of the tide during the dry season. That it was under Sir George Gipps's administration that Captain Fyans completed the important public work, which ensured to the inhabitants of the towns an abundant supply of good water at all seasons. That this work was completed in 1840, and that since that period several sums have been appropriated to keep it in repair. That the charge of fixing the minimum price of the town allotments in defiance of Lord John Russell's instructions, must fall to the ground, as the price was fixed long before Lord John came into office. That South Geelong is not a new township at all, but part and parcel of the original town as laid out at first, the principal streets running north and south in a straight line from the bay to the river. That at the first land sale held in Sydney, the great number of allotments put up and purchased were at the southern end of the town, and that, since the year 1840, not a single acre of the so-called " new township, has been offered for sale." The Rev. Doctor also proceeded to state, that the land round the town was offered at 20s. per acre, and the result was, that it was purchased by private parties, and towns were planned upon it, and that at present no less than three villages have been erected called Ashley, Newtown, and Irish Town. The Advertiser denies that the upset price of the suburban allotments was 20s. per acre, and questions whether the formation of these rural villages have not been a benefit to Geelong, inasmuch as every rising city has its " new town " — and that London itself is but an aggregate of rural villages from " Paddington " to the " Bank," and from the " Bank "to " Bow." The Advertiser concurs with the Doctor in censuring the Government for fixing the high price of town allotments too high, but corrects the ' exaggerated statements which the rev. gentleman had expressed.

Memory and Gratitude op the Horse. — A curious circumstance came under the personal notice of Colonel Hamilton Smith, at once proving both the memory aud attachment of the horse. The Colonel had a charger in his possession for two years, which he left with the army, but which was brought back and sold in London. About threcyears afterwards the Colonel chanced to travel up the town, and at a relay, on getting out of the mail, the off-wheel horse attracted his attention ; on going near to examine it with more care, he found the animal recognising him, and testifying its satisfaction by rubbing his head against him, and making every moment a little stamp with his fore-feet, to the surprise of the coachman, who asked if the horse was not an old acquaintance. It was, it was his old charger.— A lady, remarkable for benevolence to the brute creation, observed from her garden gate one day a miserable horse with the shoulders raw and bleeding, attempting to graze on 1 an open spot adjacent; having by means of some bread,' coaxed the poor animal to the gate, she then managed, with some assistance, to cover the wound with adhesive plaster spread on apiece of soft leather. The man to whom the animal belonged (one of those ignorant careiess beings, who are indifferent to the sufferings of any but themselves) shortly afterwards led the horse away. The next day, however, the horse made his appearance again at the gate, over which he put his head and gently neighed. Oii looking at him, it was found that the plaster was removed, either by the animal's master or by rubbing of the ill-made collar in which he worked. The jlaster was renewed. The third day he appeared again, requiring the same attention, which be solicited in a similar manner. After 1 this, the plaster was allowed" to remain, and the horse recovered ; but ever after, whenever it saw its benefactress, it would immediately approach her, and by Voice and action, testify its sense of her kindness and notice. This anecdote, for the truth of -which we can personally testify, proves -hbw sensible the horse is of human treatment, 'and how grateful for benefits bestowed. Considerate treatment and every care are due to an animal from whose services man derives much important benefits, but too often does man -forget that he has a duty to perform, not only towards his fellow-man, but towards those domestic animals which, Providence has intrusted to him for his welfare. - L - The' Hurse/ in Knight's Weekly Volume.

Joan of Arc. — A national subscription has been set on foot for an equestrian statue of Joan of Arc, in the city from whence she took her warrior name — Orleans ; the municipal council of which town has headed it with a contribution of 20,000 francs.

A Contrast. — George Hudson, a man reared behind a counter in York, with scarcely two ideas in his head, was left money by 1 some relative or other, and speculated in railway scrip and railway shares, by which means he accumulated vast wealth, bought estates from dukes, lords, and commoners, aud latterly he sought and found admission into the House of Commons as M.P. ior Sunderland. He never did, and probably never will do, any great thing for his country.- All he has done has been for himself, or the rearing of a vast fortune for himself; yet this man had a " testimonial" lately subscribed for him, amounting of itself to the enormous sum of £20,000 sterling. Of that amount, nearly £1,000 was subscribed for him in this city of Glasgow. We need not speak of Rowland Hill or Robert Wallace. But Thomas Waghorn, a brave officer, has crossed the burning sands of "Egypt again and again to find out a short route between England and India. Whereas that journey, a few years ago, could not be accomplished in less than two, three, four, and sometimes six months, Thomas Waghorn has succeeded in throwing it open within the space of 30 days. He has brought despatches from the remote quarters of Asia and delivered them safely in London within an almost incredibly short period. He is still risking his life to shorten the journey. He is opening up a communication between millions of tl c human race. He is adding to the grandeur and glory of England. He is enriching its merchants — stretching out incalculable bounds for their enterprise ; and what have they done for him 1 There was laid down at the bar of the Royal Exchange, the other day, a subscription paper for some " testimonial" to Thomas Waghorn. It lay there for four days — it lies there still. Some 10 or 12 Glasgow firms have subscribed in all £70 to it. Blush, ye mammon-worshippers of George Hudson ! and let your ears tingle, ye ungrateful recipients of the matchless services of i Thomas Waghorn ! If au Italian actress cam« i to Glasgow, she would pocket more than that in one night from " a fashionable and applauding audieuce." With these reflections we are almost apt to throw down our pen with scorn J and inexpressible disgust. — Scotch Reformmers Gazette.

A Scene in Guurch. — A young clergy mam who had been lately appointed to officiate as curate in an unsophisticated parish in this neighbourhood, in the church of which said parish psalmody has been long exercised by the choir to ihe full satisfaction of the parishioners, shortly after his arrival intimated his intention of giving out the psalms himself. The clerk made a meek remonstrance against the threatened innovation, and two Sundays passed quietly away. On the third, however, the parson informed the clerk that he should that day give out the psalms. At the proper period of the service, the clerk, as usual, left his desk to, proceed to the singing gallery, to lead the choir. In passing the churchwarden's pew he leant over to his brother functionary, and in no very subdued whisper said, "He is a-going to do it. He is a-going to do it ; and d — me if I know where it'll end." He then walked quietly to the gallery. The parson, like an honest man, determined to keep his word, and accordingly gave out the psalms. No music followed — the choristers were dumb — the congregation listened in surprise, but the singing was Burked I The clerk, from the front of the gallery, then addressed the parson in the following words : — " I tould'ee how 'twould be, measter — I tould'ee how 'twould be ! If it 'tisn' as it was, they weant, sing at all." The next day the parson acquainted the churchwarden that he shpuld take down the singing-gallery altogether", to which the zealous functionary r,epjied, — *' No, .measter, you weant — eff so be yon were to try to, I wed'ot answer for yer life for five minutes in this parish. "-Fa J mouth Packet. " Execution in Algeri,*.. — VAkhbar X has the following graphic account of an execution that recently took place in Algeria.,, The delinquents were two Arabs, and their crime assassination. The 26th was the day fixed upon. At 8 o'clock, a.m., .a guillotine was erected in the place, Babel-o ued ; a curiops crowd pressed around the -red. machine, which increased as the fatal moment drew nigh. At half-past 10, o'clock the vast esplanade was taken possession of. , The , weather, was magnificent. The guillotine, with crossed arms and gaping mouth ? awaited its food in the centre of the crowd — a circle preserved, with some' difficulty by a company of Zouaves. There was something frightfully, solemn in this spectacle. The mountains on the, horizon I were exhibited in bold relief against a .sky of wonderful clearness ; the sea, which oscillated between their feet and the shore, was calm and blue; on the other side of the square the garden of Marengo bloomed in all its spring

verdure; and Algiers, crowned with timid, spectators, commanded the scene. The two culprits at length arrived, guarded by mounted gendarmes. They walked with firm and equal steps, without braggadocio, or, apparent spasms ; they mumbled the,ir prayers. ,It is asserted that one of them several , times interrupted his orisons to protest the innocence of both, but the facts adduced, at the trial .fully established their guilt. On the arrival of ,the " patients" at the foot of the scaffold, the executioner made one of them turn his face towards Algiers, that he might not witness the tragedy about to be performed behind him. In less than a quarter of a minute, Bel-Hassem-ben-Mqhamed had ascended the scaffold, been bound down to the bascule, and lost his head. It was a frightful legerdemain. " Where is my comrade ?" asked Mecaoud-ben-Amed, whilst he was, in his turn, bound to the plank ; and no doubt he found a solution of the terrible enigma when he saw under his own head, already fixed in the socket, that of the decapitated Arab grinning at the bottom of the box into which his own was just about to fall. This indescribable moment must have been horrible, for Mecaoud made an r attempt to extricate himself ; but a second afterwards, axes and heads had disappeared, and the executioner's assistants remained alone on the platform, with their shirt-sleeves tucked up, hastily buckling the straps of the basket into which the mutilated, bodies had been thrown. Six vigorous biskis, in rags, then conveyed the basket to the cemetery at a double quick march. A few drops of blood filtered through the osier hurdle, and the guillotine vomited through the fissures of its joists that with which it was gorged. The eager crowd rushed to the instrument to examine it more minutely, but the gendarmes kept them at a respectful distance. The Arabs generally die with a stoical indifference. The doctrine of fatalism, " God has willed it," is unanswerable. The other day 10 Arabs were hanged (there being no guillotine) at Tlmecen, and in the following way : — There was no gallows, and the want was supplied by thrusting outside the ramparts the mouths of 10 cannons, to which 10 ropes were fastened at one end, and the necks of the 10 men to the other, by a slip-knot. It was only neto "launch" them into empty air, but the Arabs saved the executioner the trouble, and bravely leaped into eternity of their own accord. "We most distrust people who die thus," adds the Akhbar, " for they have the faith of martyrs, and they sleep in hope, until the voice of a marabout comes and awakens it at the bottom of their hearts."

Anecdotes of Beau Brummell. — There can be no doubt that be was very often intolerably impudent ; and, as impudence is always vulgar, he was guilty of vulgarity. Dining at a gentleman's house in Hampshire, where the champagne did not happen to suit his taste, he refused his glass when the servant came to help him a second time with — " No, thank you, I don't drink cider !" — The following anecdote is rather better known. " Where were you yesterday, Brummell?" said one of his club friends. " I think," said he, " I dined in the city." " What ! you dined in the city V said his friend, " Yes, the man wished me to bring him into notice, and I desired him to give a dinner, to which I invited Alvanley, Mills, Pierrepoint, and some others." " All went off well of course ?" said the friend. "Oh yes ! perfectly, except one mal-cL-propos : the fellow who gave the dinner had actually the assurance to seat himself at the tattle." Dining at a large party at the house of an opulent but young member of London society, he asked the loan of his carriage to take him to Lady Jersey's that evening. "I am going there," said his entertainer, "and will be happy to take you." " Still there is a difficulty," said Brummell in his most delicate tone. " You do not mean to get up behind, that would not be quite right in your own carriage ; and yet, how would it do for me to be 'seen in the same carriage with you?" Brumm ell's manner probably laughed off impertinencies of this order ; for, given without their colouring from natUte, they would have justified an angry reply. Buc he never seems to have involved himself in a personal quarrel. - Brummell's first reform was the neckcloth. The prevailing cravat of the time was certainly deplorable. Let us give it in the words of history. "It was without stiffening of any kind, and bagged out in front, rucMng up to the front in a roll." Biummell boldly met this calamity, by slightly starching the too flexible material — a change in which as his biographer with due seriousness and truth observes — " a reasoning mind must acknowledge there is not much objectionable." ' Imitators, of course, always exceed their model, and the cravat adopted by the dandies soon became excessively starched; the test being that of raising three parts of their length by ope corner without bending. Yet BruinmelJ, though he adhered to the happy medium, and- was moderate in his starch, was rigorous in his tie. If- his cravat did not correspond

to his f wis^es in its^first arrangement,, it was instantly cast aside. His valet w,as seen .one morning leaving his, chamber with^n.^mful of tumbled cravats, and on being askied the cause, solemnly replied, "IJhese are our failures." , .Brummell < was, as critical on,,the dr^ss of others as he was recherchS in his own. He was once walking up St. James's Street, arm in. arm with a youugnoblenoan whom he condescended to patronise. , The Beau suddenly asked him, " what he called those things on his feet ?" — " Why, shoes." Shoes are they, said Brummell doubtfully, and stopping to look at them ; " I thought they were slippers." The late Duke of Bedford asked him his opinion of a new coat. " Turn round,", said the Beau. When the examination was concluded in front and. rear, the Beau, feeling the lapel delicately with his finger and thumb, asked in a most pathetic manner, " Bedford, do you call this thing a coat ?" Meeting an old emigri marquis at the seat of a noble friend, and probably finding the Frenchman a bore, he. revenged himself by mixing some finely powdered sugar in his hair powder. On the old Frenchman's coming into the breakfast room next morning, highly powdered as usual, the flies, attracted by the scent of the sugar, instantly gathered round him. He had scarcely began his breakfast, when every fly in the room was , busy on his head. The unfortunate marquis was forced to lay down his knife and fork, and take out his pocket handkerchief to repel these troublesome assailants, but they came thicker and thicker. The victim now rose from his seat and changed his position ; but all was in vain — the flies followed in fresh clusters. In despair he hurried to the window ; but every fly lingering there was instantly buzzing and tickling. The' marquis feverish with vexation and surprise, threw up the window. This unlucky measure produced only a general invasion by all the host of flies sunning themselves on the lawn. The astonishment and amusement of the guests were excessive. Brummell alone never smiled. At last M. le Marquis gave way in agony and, clapping his hands on his head, audfollowed by a cloud of flies, rushed out of the room. The secret was then divulged, and all was laughter. " You seem to have caught cold Bruramell?" said a lounging visitor on hearing him cough. " Yes — I got out of my carriage yesterday, coming from the Pavilion, and the wretch of an~innkeeper put me into the coffee room with a damp stranger." On returning from a country mansion, of which he happened to disapprove, he defined it "An exceedingly good house for stopping a single night in." His admiration for the sex must have often brought him close on the edge of serious inconvenience. Once at the house of a nobleman, he requested a moment's interview in the library, and then and there communicated the formidable intelligence, " that he must immediately leave the house — on that day." " Why, you intended to stay a month," said his hospitable entertainer. " True — but I must be gone — I feel lam in love with your countess." " Well, my dear sir, I can't help that. I was in love with her myself twenty years ago," said the good humoured husband. " But is she in love with you ?" The Beau cast down his eyes, and in all the modesty of impudence, said faintly,*" I believe she is." " Oh ! that alters the case, I shall send for your post horses. Good morning." Brummell always denied, and with some indignation, the story of " Wales, ring the bell!" — a version which he justly declared to be " positively vulgar," and therefore, with due respect for his own sense of elegance, absolutely impossible for him. He gave the more rational explanation, that he had taken the part of a lady who was presumed to be the rival of Mrs. Fitzherbert, and had been rash enough even to make some remarks on Mrs. Fitzherbert' s en bon point, a matter of course never to be forgiven by a belle. This extended to a " declining love " between him and the prince, whose foible was a horror of growing corpulant, and whom Brummell therefore denominated " Bjg Ben," tne nickname of a gigantic porter at Carlton House ; adding the sting of calling Mrs. Fitzherbert B'enma. Brummell now, since the sword was drawn, resolved to throw away the sheath, and his hits were keen and " damaging," as, those things are now termed. In this, style he said to little Colonel M'Mahon, the Prince's secretary — " I made him, and I shall unmake him". The " fat friend" hit was more pungent in reality, than in its usual form. The Prince, walking down St. James' street with Lord Moira, and seeing Brummell approaching arm in arm, with a man of rank, determined to show the openness, of the quarrel, stopped a^d •poke to the noble lord with an, apparent up-* consciousness of ever having, seen ( ,the Beau before. The moment he was turning away, Brummell asked, in hjs, mpstpdjsjipct.vojjee, "pray f^isi yourf^friettd?" ifcthing QBuJdl

ibe- more dexterously impudent/ for'it repaid the Prince's- pretended ■ want of' recognition precisely in bis own - coin, and besides 'stung him/in:thevery spot 'where he was known to be most thin skinned. Brurnmell, in conformity ito thehabits'of the time, iand the proprieties* of his xaste,' was of course a gambler* and bf course wasirapidly , ruined ; but <we no knowledge that he went through 4h^e whole career iand? turned swindler. One night he was playing with Combe,, who united the three characters of a lover of play, a brewer, and an alderman. It was. at Brookes',^ and in the year of his mayoralty.—" Come, mash tub, what do you set?" said the Beau. " Twenty five guineas" was the answer. The Beau won, and won the same sum twelve times running. Then put-j ting the cash in his pocket, said with a' lowbow, " thank you alderman ; <for this, I'll al-j ways patronize your porter." "Very well,! sir," said Combe drily, " I only wish every blackguard in London would do the same;'' At this time play ran high at the clubs. 1 A baronet now living was said to have lost at Watier's £10,000 at one sitting, at ecarU. In 1814 Brummell lost not only all his winnings, but " an unfortunate £10,000," as he expressed it, the last that he had at his banker's. Brummell was now ruined; and, to prevent the possibility of his recovery at any future period, he raised money at ruinous interest, and finally made his escape to Calais. Still, when every thing else forsook him, his odd way of telling his own story remained. " He said," observed one of his friends at Caen, when talking about his altered circumstances, " that, up to a particular period of his life, every thing prospered with him, and ! that he attributed this good luck to the possession of a silver sixpence with a hole in it, which somebody had given him some years, before, with an injunction to take good care of it, as every thing would go well with him so long as he kept it, and every thing the contrary if he happened to lose it." And so it .turned out; for having at length, in an 1 evil hour, given it by mistake to a hackney coachman, a complete reverse of his affairs took place, and one misfortune followed an-, other until he was obliged to fly. On his' being asked why he did not advertize a reward for it, he answered —" 1 did, and twenty people came with sixpences with holes in them for the reward, but not ray sixpence." " And you never heard any more of it?" " No," he replied ; " no doubt that rascal Rothschild, or some of that set, have got hold of it." But the Beau's retreat from London was still to be characteristic. As it had become expedient that he must make his escape without eclat, on the day of bis intended retreat he dined coolly at his club, and finished his London performances by sending from the table a note to his friend Scrope Davies, couched in the following prompt and expressive form: —

" My dear Scrope,—Send me two hundred pounds: the banks are shut, and all my money is in the 3 per cents. It shall be repaid to-morrow morning. — Your's, Geo. Brummell." The answer was equally prompt and expressive —

" My dear George,—lt is very unfortunate, but all my money is in the 3 per cents.—Yours, S. Davies." Nothing daunted, the Beau went to the Opera, allowed himself to be seen about the house, then quickly retiring, stepped into a friend's chaise, and met his own carriage, which waited for him a short distance from town. Travelling all night with four horses, he reached Dover by morning, hired a vessel to carry him over, and soon left England and his creditors behind. He was instantly pursued ; but the chase stopped on reaching the sea—debtors could not then be followed to france, and Brummell was secure. The little, rude, and thoroughly comfortless town of Calais was nowto be theplace of residence for nearly the rest of his life, to a man accustomed to the highest luxuries of London life, trained to the keenest sensibility of London enjoyment, and utterly absorbed in London objects of every kind, Ovid's banishment among the Thracians could scarcely be a more formidable position. Yet Brummell's pleasantry did not desert him even in Calais. On sonote passing friend's remark on the annoyance of living in such a place—" Pray," said the Beau, " is it not a general opinion that a gentleman might manage to spend' his time pleasantlyenough between London and Paris ?" —Jjlackwood's Magazine,