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Lady Stewart-A leopard satin petticoat, elegantly trimmed with black lace, cord and tassels; black velvet train, trimmed with lace.

Lady Radstock-Wore a petti coat of amber coloured crape, with rich embroidered draperies of silver spangles representing a bouquet of flowers; the border at the bottom of the petticoat particularly nouvelle for its neatness and simplicity, it was la garniture a la chine, done in velvet; train black velvet, trimmed with fine point lace; head-dress black velvet, superbly ornamented with diamonds and feathers.

Lady William Russell-White sati petticoat, with a deep silver tassel, fringed round the bottom; full white satin draperies, richly studded with demi-silver beads, and bordered with a most superb silver tassel fringe. The drapery fastened up with an unique snake rope and tassels of silver. Train, white satin, trimmed all round with silver tassel fringe. Body richly embroidered in silver. This dress was much admired for its delicate brilliancy. Headdress, a fine plume of feathers and diamonds.

Lady Bontien-Her ladyship was as usual most tastefully attired in a very rich satin petticoat most superbly embroidered with a very deep wreath of gold and purple hyacinths, the lower part in rich stripes to correspond; the draperies were formed of a most superbly embroidered crape trimmed with a magnificent suit of point lace, and tied up with a profusion of gold tassels and cord, the bottom of the petticoat with a broad gold fringe placed on purple velvet, a purple velvet robe to suit, richly trimmed with point, and gold cuffs; head-dress a bandeau of purple velvet with feathers and diamonds.

Lady Margaret Walpole-PettiCoat of white crape richly embroi

dered, silver, and interlined with amber sarsnet, tastefully ornament ed with rose lilies; train and body of rich white satin ornamented, point and silver, trimmed swans. down; head-dress of ostrich feathers and diamonds.

Lady Auckland-Body and train of black velvet trimmed with point lace; petticoat of purple satin, richly embroidered in gold; draperies of black velvet, tastefully tied up with cords and tassels.

Lady Anne Culling Smith-Petticoat of French pink crape, embroi dered in broad wreaths of tulips in French pearls; draperies the same, looped up with strings of plaited pearls; train of rich French pink satin, embroidered in pearls, to correspond with the petticoat. Her ladyship wore a queen Elizabeth's ruff, which had a new effect, made in Brussels lace; head-dress, ban, deau of knotted pearls, high plume of pale pink feathers, mounted in the military style.

Lady Abdy-Petticoat of white crape, embroidered in the real oriental silver lamé; border very broad, of silver tulips in lamé, draperies of white hops, with a rich mosaic of China leaves, and a broad border of silver palm leaves and bunches of seeds,the whole in oriental lamé; train of rich white satin, embroidered, to correspond with the petticoat. Headdress, casque of black velvet, with a large wreath of diamonds; beautiful plume of white ostrich feathers.

Lady Borringdon--A brown crape petticoat, elegantly ornamented with wreaths and branches of variegated holly, painted in velvet; a brown velvet train, trimmed with Brussels lace; head-dress of diamonds and feathers, scarlet and brown.

Hon. Mrs. Henry Erskine - A beautiful dress of violet velvet and white crape, embroidered with silver

draperies of violet velvet, covered with showers of spangles, and edged with vandyke border, and matted silver; body and train to correspond, of velvet and silver.

A SINGULAR STORY. From Madame du Montier's Letters.

'WHILE I was in the country last year,' says madame du Montier, I chanced to fall into company with a good friar, eighty years of age, who told me the following story.

About forty years ago, he was sent for to a highwayman, to prepare him for death. They shut him up in a small chapel with the malefactor, and while he was making every effort to excite him to repentance, he perceived that the man was absorb ed in thought, and hardly attended to his discourse. "My dear friend," said he, "do you reflect that in a few hours you must appear before a more awful tribunal than that which has lately condemned you? What can divert your attention from what is of such infinite importance?" "True, father," returned the malefactor; "but I cannot divest myself of the idea that it is in your power to save my life." "How can I possibly ef

fect that?" said the friar; " and even supposing I could, should I venture to do it, and thereby give you an opportunity, perhaps, of committing many more crimes?" "If that be all that prevents you," replied the malefactor, "you may rely on my word; I have beheld my fate too near again to expose myself to what I have felt."

The friar acted as you and I should have done :-he yielded to the impulse of compassion, and it only remained to contrive the means of the man's escape. The chapel in which they were was lighted by one VOL. XXXVIII.

small window near the top, fifteen feet from the ground. "You have only," said the criminal to the friar, "to set your chair on the altar, which we can remove to the foot of the wall, and, if you will get upon it, I can reach the window by the help of your shoulders." The friar consented to this manœuvre, and having replaced the altar, which was portable, seated himself quietly in his chair. About three hours after, the executioner, who began to grow impatient, knocked at the door, and asked the friar what was become of the criminal. "He must have been an angel," replied he coolly; "for, by the faith of a priest, he went through the window." The executioner, who found himself a loser by this account, enquired if he were laughing at him, and ran to inform the judges. They repaired to the chapel where this good man was sitting, who, pointing to the window, assured them, upon his conscience, that the malefactor flew out at it; and that, supposing him an angel, he was going to recommend himself to his protection; that, moreover, if he were a criminal, which he could not suspect after what he had seen, he was not obliged to be his guardian. The magistrates could not preserve their gravity at this good man's sang froid, and, after wishing a pleasant journey to the culprit,

went away.

Twenty years afterwards, this friar, travelling over the Ardennes, lost his way; when, just as the day was closing, a kind of peasant accosted him, and, after examining him very attentively, asked him whither he was going, and told him the road he was travelling was a very dangerous one. "If you will follow me," he added, "I will conduct you to a farm at no great distance, where you may pass the night in safety." The friar was much embarrassed;

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the curiosity visible in the man's countenance excited his suspicions; but considering that if he had a bad design towards him it was impossible to escape, he followed him with trembling steps. His fear was not of long duration; he soon perceived the farm which the peasant had mentioned, and as they entered, the man, who was the proprietor of it, told his wife to kill a capon, with Come of the finest chickens in the poultry yard, and to welcome his While guest with the best cheer. supper was preparing the countryman re-entered, followed by eight children, whom he thus addressed:

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My children, pour forth your grateful thanks to this good friar. Had it not been for him you would not have been here, nor I either: he saved my life.” The friar instantly recollected the features of the speaker, and recognised the thief whose escape he had favoured, The whole family loaded him with caresses and kindness; and, when he was alone with the man, he inquired how he came to be so well provided for. "I kept my word with you," said the thief, "and, resolving to lead a good life in future, I begged my way hither, which is my native country, and engaged in the service of the master of this farm. Gaining his favour by my fidelity and attachment to his interest, he gave me his only daughter in marriage. God has blessed my endeavours. I have amassed a little wealth, and I beg that you will dispose of me and all that belongs to me. I shall now die content, since I have been able to see and testify my gratitude towards my deliverer." The friar told him he was well repaid for the service he had rendered him by the use to which he devoted the life he had preserved. He would not accept of any thing as a recompence; but could not refuse to stay some days with

the countryman, who treated him like a prince. This good man then obliged him to make use at least of one of his horses to finish his journey, and never quitted him till he had traversed the dangerous roads that abound in those parts.'

of SIR EDWARD ANECDOTES HERBERT, English Ambassador in France in the Reign of JAMES I.

SIR Edward Herbert being sent ambassador from king James I. to Louis XIII. was instructed to mediate a peace for the protestants in France. De Luines, the French prime minister, haughtily asked him what the king of England had to do in that affair. The ambassador replied It is not to you the king my master owes an account of his actions, and for me it is enough that I obey him. At the same time I must maintain that my master hath more reason to do what he doth than you to ask why he doth it. Nevertheless, if you civilly desire me, I shall acquaint you further.'

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Upon this de Luines, bowing a little, said Very well.' Sir Edward answered, that it was not on this occasion only that the king of Great Britain had desired the peace and prosperity of France, but upon all other occasions, whenever any war was raised in that country; and this was his first reason. The second was, that, because a peace being settled in his own dominions, the king of France might be better disposed and able to assist the palatinate in the present broils of Germany." The French minister said, will have none of your advices." The Briton, replied, that he took that for an answer, and was serry only that the amicable interposition

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of his master was not duly understood; but since it was so abruptly rejected, he could do no less than say that the king knew well enough what to do.' De Luines arswered-We are not afraid of you.' Sir Edward, smiling a little, replied, "If you had said you had not loved us I should have believed you, and should have given you another answer; in the mean time, all that I will tell you more is, that we know very well what we have to do.' De Luines, upon this, starting from his seat, said, By G-, if you were not monsieur l'ambassadeur I know very well how I would use you.' Sir Edward, also rising from his chair, said, that as he was the king of Great Britain's ambassador, so he was also a gentleman, and that his sword (on which he clapped his hand) should give him instant satisfaction, if he was pleased to take any offence. To this the Frenchman made no reply; and Sir Edward walked towards the door, to which De Luines seeming to accompany him, Sir Edward said that, after such language there was no occasion to use such ceremony;' and so departed, expecting to hear further from him.

He had afterwards a gracious audience of the French king; after which a court lord telling him, that, after having offended the constable De Luines, he was not in a place of safety, he gallantly answered, that he always considered himself in a place of safety wherever his sword went with him.'

The vindictive De Luines procured his brother with a train of officers (of whom there was not one, as hetold king James, that had not killed his man) to go as ambassador extraordinary to England, who so misrepresented the affair, that sir Edward was recalled; but on his return cleared up the affair to his honour. He however

fell on his knees to the king, be seeching him that a herald might be sent to the French ambassador from him, bearing an accusation of falsity, and a challenge for satisfaction; but James, being of a quiet pacific disposition, only made answer, that he would think of it.' De Luines died soon after, and sir Edward Herbert was again sent ambassador to France

MARRIAGE SETTLEMENTS.

JOHN marquis of Tweedale, who was the last secretary of state for Scotland, before that place was annexed to the secretaryship for the home department, espoused lady Frances Carteret, daughter of lord Carteret, afterwards earl of Granville, several years lord lieutenant of Ireland, and once president of the English privy council.

This marriage was preceded by the following singular circumstance. It happened that these two noblemen met together at Florence, when on their respective tours through Europe. Lord Carteret was then a married man. One day being in familiar conversation with each other, lord Carteret took occasion to expatiate on the comforts of matrimony, which he forcibly contrasted with the joyless state of a bachelor. The marquis assented to the truth of his observations, but owned that he had never as yet seriously thought of taking to himself a wife. Lord Carteret then told him, that though he had then no child, he bespoke him for a son-in-law. Whether he meant this declaration as jocular or otherwise, certain it is that the first child his lady brought him after his return to England was the very daughter whom the marquis married about twenty years afterward.

As the whole of lord Tweedale's real estate lay in Scotland, the marriage

articles between him and his lady were drawn up by his solicitor in Edinburgh, under the inspection of his lawyers there. The rough draft of the deed was transmitted to London, for the perusal of lord Granville. Among other usual clauses, there was a stipulation for pin-money to the lady during marriage, and a blank left for the specific sum to be filled up at his lordship's dis

cretion. When he had cast his eyes on that clause he instantly drew his pen across it, and wrote upon the opposite margin these words: 'Not a shilling! I have seen enough of the consequences of wives being independent of their husbands ever to consent to my daughter's having a right to demand pin-money. her depend upon her lord, as every wife ought to do.'

POETICAL ESSAYS.

ODE for the NEW YEAR, 1507. By H. J. PYE, Esq. P. L.

I.

WHEN loud and drear the tempests roar,
When high the billowy mountains rise,
And headlong 'gainst the rocky shore,
Driven by the blast, the giddy vessel flies;
Unguided, by the wild waves borne,
Her rudder broke, her tackling torn;
Say, does the seaman's daring mind
Shrink from the angry frown of fate?
Does he, to abject fear resign'd,

Th' impending stroke in silence wait?
No-while he pours the fervent pray'r
To Him whose will can punish or can spare,
Cool and intrepid 'mid the sound
Of winds and waves that rage around,
The pow'rs that skill and strength impart,
The nervous arm, th' undaunted heart,
Collecting, firm he fronts the threat'ning

storm,

And braves, with fearless breast, fell Death's terrific form.

II.

So, though around our sea-encircled reign The dreadful tempests seem to lour, Dismay'd do Britain's hardy train

Await in doubt the threat'ning hour?-
Lo! to his sons, with cheering voice,
Albion's bold Genius calls aloud;
Around hini valiant myriads crowd,
Or death or victory their choice:
From ev'ry port astonish'd Europe sees
Britannia's white sails swelling with the
breeze;

Not her imperial barks alone
Awe the proud foe on ev'ry side,
Commerce her vessels launches on the tide,
And her indignant sons awhile
Seceding from their wonted toil,

Turn from the arts of peace their care,
Hur! from each deck the bolts of war,

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