be similarly situated, without the like kindness to direct their choice. It was, that I had better abandon the little pen, otherwise state-room, which I had chosen beside the cabin, and take my berth in the latter apartment, "Kase," to use her own elegant language, "the bugs ain't a touch in hyur to what they be in yander." Here was another volume of misery opened to my already oppressed senses. Seeing my consternation, she added, "O, you needn't dread 'em so powerful; I broomed the berths to-day, and shook the 'trasses, so they won't be so mighty bad." "Make my berth where you think best," I said. "There ain't no clean sheets, but I can tear off a pair, and you can sleep in 'em, you know, if they ain't hemmed, and I'll give you my pillow."

"No, thank you," I replied; "just tear off a third sheet, and I'll make a pillow-case of it for myself." At last the berth was prepared, and the vermin made a night of it. They had evidently not been treated for some time, and brought vigorous appetites to my reception. After a contest of four or five hours, I was fain to yield possession to them. Making such limited ablution as the place allowed, I dressed myself and sat down on the stern of the boat to wait the coming day, and speculate on the distance we had made. When the light came up over the heavy forest which clothed the eastern bank of the river, I saw that the waters were still muddy, and knew, therefore, that we could not have passed the mouth of the Missouri. Nine hours' running had brought us twenty-two miles!—a dismal augury for the 240 that yet remained. As the daylight gained, I saw that the current under the eastern shore was dark and clear, and a few minutes after the scattered town of Alton began to peer up from among its beautiful bluffs, just touched with the first tender hue of spring.

And now the waters widened on the west, and opened up inland a broad, eddying, plunging sea of mud. On the spine of a sand-bar which was just visible between the two streams, the currents met, and the waters of the Missouri rose into a circling wave which toppled an instant and ran on, eager to mingle with the purer element that glittered and danced beyond. But the Mississippi, as if disdaining the foul alliance thus tumultuously sought, stole angrily away beneath the dark forest on the opposite shore, and preserved her identity a long way down, in a narrow transparent vein, growing more slender, till at length its bed was wholly usurped by the muddy monster.

This, then, was the junction of these two streams! The point where the mighty son of the mountains meets the clear-eyed daughter of the lakes majestic union of powers whose feeble birth is in the deep wilderness and the untrodden solitude, whose maturity makes the ocean tremble. Nothing could be more impressive. When the child's geography had first been put in my hands, I read of these great rivers and put my feeble powers to their utmost task to conceive them. I had followed the insignificant red and green lines which represent them, and explored the echoing mountains whence one plunges to the plain below, and

the gushing springs and softly chiming lakes whence the other rises and winds; till fancy, wearied with the effort, drooped her pinion, and left me on the rough bench in the little brown school-house, sick and disgusted with the narrowness and coarseness of the world to which I was confined. I had taken the eagle's wing, and, perched upon the mountain pine, had seen the little rivulets

"leap and gush

O'er channell'd rock and broken bush," bending towards each other, and swelling as they united, till their march became resistless. I had followed them where the dim wood and towering eff reechoed to their tread, and where they cut the verdant bosom of the sunny plain like threads of molten silver. Vast, illimitable journey! And here, beneath my eye, these messengers from the unvexed solitudes, thousands of miles away, met and pursued their path together. It seemed like a union of strength to thread the more dangerous territory inhabited by man. Both streams at this time were swollen to their fullest capacities by the spring floods. The gigantic Missouri poured out his turbid waters 1 with a force that made his feeble neighbour recoil and leave a chasm between the transverse muddy wall, and the clear dark stream that glided timidly by on the other side.

While I was contemplating this scene, wrapt in silence, a little window close beside me opened, and a hand was thrust forth which I immediately recognized to be the solitary member belonging to the body of our chambermaid. She drew back with a scream, and an exclamation not of the most feminine character; but the next moment her eyes relieved her trepidation, ¦ and after muttering some apology, she expressed her opinion that I" must feel right peart to be out that airly." I had no little difficulty in convincing her that there was sufficient activity in my nerves of sensation to render the insects that shared my berth somewhat troublesome.

"I reckon," said she, "thar must have been a mighty small chance of the varmints about you, 'kase I swep up about a pint of 'em yesterday and thow'd 'em overboard; so it's impossible you could ha had & great many."

I yielded the point, and afterwards observed that whenever they were alluded to on board this boat, it was by measure!

We reached Alton at eight o'clock. The bell rang when we were within 100 yards of the shore, and the boat was in one of her spasms, which the captain calculated would lay him alongside in gallant style. But alas! spasmodic action is no more to be relied on in boat nature than human. On we came, the waters quite whitening in our wake, and making, as the delighted Mrs. Raddle observed on another occasion, "acterally more noise" than if we had come in a better boat, for the engine creaked and hissed at every joint, and the escape-pipe disgorged itself about thrice a minute with a dismal hollow sound, as if its vitals were breaking up. We nearly touched the

shore; the captain stood in his ruffles, silk-hose, pumps, and gloves; the passengers waited, valises and trunks in hand, ready to jump ashore, and two or three were gathered at the waterside shaking hands with their friends, and exchanging the usual ceremonies, when, oh, most inglorious spectacle! the spasm ended, the boat rolled over on the other side, threw the captain across a stool, and the passengers among barrels, &c., and lay motionless for several moments.

"That was the unkindest cut of all,' was it not?" cried Hal, maliciously, to the prostrate captain, "to play you such a trick here, before the town, just as we were on the eve of such a bold approach; but never mind. She'll hardly have another fit before you can bring her up."

The bell rang, the wheels revolved backwards, and all the numerous mysteries were duly performed again, but now the boat refused to approach the shore. She would come up obediently to within a few feet, but the nicest calculation and the most delicate persuasion could take her no nearer. At each failure she was obliged to turn quite round, and each evolution took her half-way across the stream, and consumed nearly half an hour. No petted child ever conducted herself in a more refractory manner before company than she before the astonished eyes of the goodly citizens of Alton. Every prank deepened the tint of our captain's hair, whiskers, and face, and was made the occasion of as many jokes as could be uttered till another followed.

"She shows off admirably, captain; nothing could be more fortunate."

"If you could throw her into a fit just before she backs water, she'd be sure to come up."

"If she refuses again, you may as well go on; may be she'll come to her temper at the next landing." "The wood will be out soon, and then she'll certainly float ashore somewhere."

In the midst of this scene our red-flanneled Hooshier made his appearance. His arms were inserted in his pockets, nigh to the elbow, the fur cap tipped over the left eye, and the thick boots projected more than ever as he leaned against the side of the cabin, raised his upper lip by way of adapting his eyes to the strong sunlight, and inquired with a loud voice into the meaning "of all these hyur turnins." He was informed by Hal that the captain had thought of landing at Alton, but had changed his mind and was now merely showing his boat to the citizens.

"Look hyur, stranger," said he, "do I look as if I could be gummed that easy? I've seed too many boats in my day to believe your story; but if he's trying to land thar, this one takes the rag off them all. cappen, what'll you give me to jump over and put my say, shouldha under the starn, and shove her up for I calculate there wouldn't be much difficulty in doin it, if you'd stop that infarnal old ingine that's whizzin and bustin, below thar. It's about half man-power, reckon, when it don't leak."

you?

I

The poor captain became more and more perplexed every moment, and actually went so far as to remove

one of his gloves. The people on shore cheered the last two evolutions, and the whole thing had reached the climax of the ridiculous, when, by a fortunate guess on the part of some one, the boat was at last brought alongside the shore, just one hour and a half from the time of the first attempt. Everything had been brought up to the boiling point by the long suspense and severe effort. The perspiration stood in drops on the brow of the agonized captain; the boilers had contracted the rage, and thrown off more steam than had brought us from St. Louis; the very tar had been warmed into greater freedom and threw itself more fearlessly on the luckless by-passers. Our Hooshier had not duly considered this circumstance. and, in the excitement of the moment, he planted himself directly beneath one of these thin filaments. It spun out in a beautiful thread of dark amber, and then, unluckily, parting above, deposited a large lump on the very edge of his cap, and shot off, in a fine stream, to the immaculate bosom of red-flannel below.

"Look hyur, now," said the wrathful Hooshier, doubling his fists; "if any body wants to throw tar on me, he may do it as long as he can stand, after I've had two or three good licks at him. I'm a better steamboat than this when I'm set a-goin, and 'twon't take much such combustible as that aar to fire me up."

The bystanders were greatly amused, but kept themselves at a safe distance, for his arms were swinging about in a manner rather inconvenient to those on the narrow guard.

"Easy, friend, easy," said Hal; "you cannot suppose that any gentleman would throw tar upon you; if you look up, you will see where the insult came from."

"Yes, I see it's the infarnal old boat. I could lick out twenty-four just like her; but there'd be more sense in giving that ruffled carrot yonder a taste of a live man's fists."

A little persuasion, however, cooled his wrath. Our old passengers sprang gladly ashore, and the new oncs set their feet upon the plank rather doubtingly, but some one on the fire-deck settled the question by calling out "There won't be another boat till Tuesday.”

(To be continued.)

THE HISTORY OF PUPPET-SHOWS IN
ENGLAND.'

(From the Revue des Deux Mondes.)

HITHERTO, We find that poets and itinerant singers but we are approaching the critical period in which attribute only amusing peccadilloes to Mr. Punch; shows him to us as already on the decline, in a satire his manners begin to be depraved. Swift, in 1728, in verse, by means of the speech addressed to a disagreeable and turbulent whig, Richard Lighe, here the streets of Dublin, for his tory opinions, named called Timothy, by a poor infirm man, well known in Mad Mullinix. The latter compares his adversary to

(1) Concluded from p. 178.

"Tim, you mistake the matter quite;
The Tories! you are their delight;
And should you act a different part,

Be grave and wise, 'twould break their heart.
Why, Tim, you have a taste, I know,
And often see a puppet show.
Observe, the audience is in pain,
While Punch is hid behind the scene;
But when they hear his rusty voice,
With what impatience they rejoice!
And then they value not two straws,
How Solomon decides the cause,
Which the true mother, which pretender,
Nor listen to the witch of Endor.
Should Faustus, with the devil behind him,
Enter the stage, they never mind him;
If Punch, to stir their fancy, shows
In at the door his monstrous nose,
Then sudden draws it back again.
Oh what a pleasure mixt with pain,
You every moment think an age,
Till he appears upon the stage;

The Duke of Lorraine drew his sword;
Punch roaring ran, and running roar'd,
Reviles all people in his jargon,
And sells the king of Spain, a bargain;
St. George himself he plays the wagon,
And mounts astride upon the dragon;
He gets a thousand thumps and kicks,
Yet cannot leave his roguish tricks;
In every action thrusts his nose,
The reason why, no mortal knows;

There's not a puppet made of wood
But what would hang him if they could;
While teasing all, by all he's teased,
How well are the spectators pleased!
Who in the motion have no share,
But purely come to mar and stare;
Have no concern for Sabria's sake,
Which gets the better saint or snake,
Providing Punch (for there's the jest)
Be soundly maul'd and plague the rest.
Thus, Tim, philosophers suppose
The world consists of puppet shows;
Where petulant, conceited fellows,
Perform the part of Punchinelloes;
So at this booth, which all call Dublin,

Tim, thou 'rt the Punch to stir up trouble in ;
You riggle, fidge, and make a rout,
Put all the other puppets out,
Run on in a perpetual round,
To tease, perplex, disturb, confound,
Intrude with monkey grin and clatter,
To interrupt all serious matter;
Are grown the nuisance of your clan,
Who hate and scorn you to a man;
But then the lookers on, the tories,
You still divert with merry stories,
They would consent that all the crew
Were hang'd before they'd part with you."

In this portrait, which is not a flattering one, and in some couplets sung in 1731, and taken from a puppet-play,' Punch, or rather Punchinello (for thus he styles himself), appears still as a disorderly little fellow, very noisy and tolerably brutal, but he has not

(1) See" Punch and Judy," p. 46.

enormities, which will soon cause him to bear a
striking resemblance to Henry VIII. or Bluebeard.
We are, however, reluctant to acknowledge this re-
semblance; we prefer comparing our friend Punch to
Don Juan. Hone has, in fact, drawn a parallel
between these two personages, in which, contrary to
his usually exact rules, he advances that Punch may
have suggested the idea of the character and exploits
of the famous "Burlador de Sevilla." He forgets
that even in 1676, when Shadwell introduced the first
imitation of Don Juan, "The Libertine Destroyed,"
on the English stage, Punchinello was not then known
in Great Britain. Payne Collier thinks, with much
more reason, that the drama of Punch and Judy is of
recent date in England, and taking the contrary
opinion to Hone, attributes the hyperbolical licences
of this composition to the infatuation excited by
Mozart's master-piece at the end of the last century.
Punch, according to Mr. Payne's definition, is the
Don Juan of the populace. The most ancient text
in which this talented critic has found any mention of
the adventures of Punch and Judy, is a ballad which
he does not take to be older than 1790, and which he
has extracted from a collection of pieces, some
printed, others in manuscript, formed during the
years 1791, 1792 and 1793. He supposes these
stanzas to have followed the drama at an early
period, and to have been composed by an amateur who
was delighted with the representation. I may add,
that I should not be surprised to find that Mr. Payne
was something more than the editor of this ballad.
In whatever relation he may be connected with it, I
am sure it will be read with pleasure here:-
"Oh! hearken now to me awhile,

A story I will tell you,
Of Mr. Punch, who was a vile,
Deceitful, murderous fellow;
Who had a wife, a child also,

And both of matchless beauty;
The infant's name I do not know,
Its mother's name was Judy.
Right tol de rol lol, &c.
"But not so handsome Mr. Punch,
Who had a monstrous nose, sir,
And on his back there grew a hunch

That to his head arose, sir,

But then, they said, that he could speak
As winning as a mermaid,
And by his voice, a treble squeak,
He Judy won, that fair maid.

Right tol de rol lol, &c,

"But he was cruel as a Turk,

Like Turk, was discontented,
To have one wife, 'twas poorish work,
But still the law prevented
His having two, or twenty-two,
Tho' he for all was ready,
So what did he in that case do?
Oh, sad! he kept a lady.

Right tol de rol lol, &c. "Now Mrs. Judy found it out,

And being very jealous,
She pull'd her husband by the snout,
His lady gay as well as;

(2) Hone's "Ancient Mysteries," p. 230.

"In all his course he scrupled not
To make a jest of murther,
So fathers, brothers, went to pot-
It really makes one shudder
To think upon the horrid track
Of blood he shed in system;
And though with hump upon his back,
The dames could not resist him.

Right tol de rol lol, &c.

""Tis said, that he a compact sign'd
With one they call Old Nich'las,'
But if I knew them, I've no mind
To go into partic'lars;
To it, perhaps, he owed success
Wherever he might go, sir,
But I believe we must confess,
The ladies were-so so-sir.

Right tol de rol lol, &c.

An alias, when at Dover;

But soon the police laid a scheme

To clap him into prison,

They took him when he least could dream
Of such a fate as his 'n.

Right tol de rol lol, &c.

"And now the day was drawing near

The day of retribution;

The trial o'er, he felt but queer

At thought of execution:

But when the hangman, all so grim,
Declared that he was ready,

Punch only tipp'd the wink at him,
And ask'd after his lady.

Right tol de rol lol, &c.

"

'Pretending he knew not the use
Of rope he saw from tree, sir,
The hangman's head into the noose
He got, while he got free, sir.

At last the Devil came to claim

His own; but Punch, what he meant
Demanded, and denied the same-
He knew no such agreement.

Right tol de rol lol, &c.

"You don't!" (the Devil cried,) “'tis well,
I'll quickly let you know it:
And so to furious work they fell,
As hard as they could go it.
The Devil with his pitchfork fought,
While Punch had but a stick, sir,
But kill'd the Devil, as he ought-
Huzza! there's no Old Nick, sir.

Right tol de rol lol, &c."

I admit, with Mr. Payne Collier, that the drama of which this ballad contains an analysis is of a recent date; but I do not believe it to be so recent as he judges it. In fact, Dr. Johnson, who published his edition of Shakspeare in 1765, says in the last note on "Richard III." that he saw "the devil very lustily belaboured by Punch" in a puppet-show. This was indeed, a very old tradition.

Mr. Payne Collier, although not ignorant of certain truly British features in the physiognomy of our hero, in which he shows us a union of the sensuality of Falstaff and the cold atrocity of King Richard III.,' is nevertheless inclined to attribute the principal honour of this creation to France; to which, in truth, a large portion of this popular and now European work belongs. The portion of the French is gaiety, and I think we must in conscience reserve to ourselves a large share of this legend. Our claims on this subject are ancient and substantial; they are even anterior to the arrival of Punch in our country. We find that in the old moral-plays, the old Vice contested vigorously with master Devil, and even remonstrated with him concerning capital offences; but at the end master Devil took vengeance on the old sinner, or rather on Sin personified, and carried the old Vice to hell with as little ceremony as Judas, Dr. Faust, or the valet of Friar Bacon. Ben Jonson, in 1616, either of his own fancy or in accepting a new idea from some ingenious stroller, changed the situations of these characters, and presented to us a poor devil surpassed in malice and wickedness by a mere personification of human iniquity. Ben Jonson realized, or at least sketched, this happy idea in "The Devil is an Ass." "The devil was wont to carry away the Evil, But now the Evil outcarries the devil." This novelty pleased the public, and passed from Blackfriars theatre to the puppet-shows; and Punch, on arriving in London from Paris or Amsterdam, failed not to appropriate this part of the character of old Vice his predecessor. We must, however, observe

(1) Punch and Judy," p. 76. Shakspeare has signalized the resemblance between Richard and the old Vice:

"Thus like the formal vice, Iniquity,

I moralize two meanings in one word."

(2) Dr. Johnson, in a note on "Hamlet," says that the Vice is the old buffoon of English farces from which Punch is descended. Douce ("Illustrations on Shakspeare," vol. ii. p. 251,) found but little difficulty in proving that there were no ties of relationship