the tailor or the wearer, your many-headed acumen will doubtless solve the difficulty to the entire satisfaction of Your humble reader and admirer,

C. S.

Neither being Doudney's agents, or particularly interested in " Saving our income tax," we are unable to appreciate the full value of our "humble reader and admirer's" information, but shall be happy to refer him to Mr. Chivers, tailor in ordinary to the Dukes of the Saxons and Goths, where he, no doubt, will meet with every attention.

On another recent occasion, being but little versed in architectural details, we were horrified at the appearance of a bulky roll of paper, headed" Criticisms on Windsor Castle." "Criticisms on a Castle!" we exclaimed in dismay. "Criticise a Bureau; but a Castle! Shade of Sir Jeffrey !" Happily our editorial brains were spared farther distraction by discovering that Ainsworth's Romance, and not the building it traduces, was the subject of our friend's lucubrations, which it must be owned were in every respect worthy of their subject.

In conclusion, and entirely out of consideration to those of our readers who are not gifted with an Edipean head, we are commissioned by F. C. to give the solution of his enigmas. The second will, on inspection, be found to unite all the attributes of "a newspaper." The first can never be grasped in its full perfection, by any one who is given to that peculiarity of dialect which developes itself in such euphonisms, as wobber, widdle and majowity.

From SHIRLEY.

The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things,
There is no armour against fate,
Death lays his icy hand on kings]:
Sceptre and crown

Must tumble down,

And in the dust be equal made

With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

The garlands wither on your brow,
Then boast no more your mighty deeds,
Upon death's purple altar now,

See where the victor-victim bleeds!

Your heads must come

To the cold tomb,

Only the actions of the just

Smell sweet and blossom in the dust.

Idem Latine Redditum.

Avita pompa, ut umbra, marcet,
Fugaxve somnium; nec arcet
Tyrannus ense tela Fati;
Ducesque mortis enecati

Tacent gelante vi; coronæ

Cadunt jacentve cum ligone,
Eburque, vilius bipenni,

Putrescit in situ perenni.

Fluunt, tyranne, fronte flores

Crepare desinas honores,

Litande victor! appararis
Rubentibus necandus aris,
Rapina mortis. Obsolescunt
Jacentis ossa; quin virescunt
Viri canenda facta justi
Odora fœditate busti.

SERENADE.

From Lockhart's Spanish Ballads.

While my lady sleepeth,

The dark blue heaven is bright, Soft the moon-beam creepeth Round her bower all night. Thou gentle, gentle breeze! While my lady slumbers, Waft lightly through the trees, Echoes of my numbers, Her dreaming ear to please.

Should ye, breathing numbers,
That for her I weave,
Should ye break her slumbers,
All my soul would grieve;
Rise on the gentle breeze,

And gain her lattice height,

O'er yon poplar trees,—

But be your echoes light, As hum of distant bees.

All the stars are glowing
In the gorgeous sky,
In the stream scarce flowing
Mimic lustres lie.

Blow, gentle, gentle breeze!

And bring no cloud to hide Their dear resplendencies

Nor chase from Zara's side, Dreams bright, and pure as these.

Idem Latine Redditum. AD THESTYLIN. Tu dormis, mea Thestylis, Dum lucet polus, et leves Huc et huc radios amat Luna fundere, qui tuo

Lecto obrepere gaudent;

Lenis, lenis ades mihi, et
Quà jacet domina, excubes,
Aura, et, sub folia advolans
Inter somnia tu meos

Cantus defer in aurem.

Sin vos, o numeri mei,
Quos connectere virgini
Spiritus vigil incipit,
Lædatis requiem sacram,
Totâ mente dolebo.

Vos agente Favonio,
Populos super arduas,

Surgite ad thalami fores,

Sed, ceu murmur apum procul

Ferventum, resonetis.

Ecce! ut omnia fulgeant

Astra in æthere purpureo,
Ut trementia luminum

Cœrulis remorantibus

Fingantur simulachra !

Aura! tu sine nubilis

Lenis, ah! cave ne fuges

Risus noctis amabiles,

Neu casta et rosea invide

Somni visa puellæ.

EPITAPHIUM IN INFANTIS TUMULO.

Ere sin could blight, or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care,
The opening bud to heaven conveyed,
And bade it blossom there.

Idem Latine Redditum.

Ante malum parvos quam tabe notaverat artus,
Aut poterat forman diminuisse dolor,
Mors teneram eripuit: cœlique sub alta repostam
Atria maturum jussit habere decus.

ANOTHER ON THE SAME.

Scarce to her lips the cup of life she pressed,
Found the taste bitter, and declined the rest;
Averse then turning from the light of day,
She gently breathed her virgin soul away.

Idem Latine Redditum.

Vix adeo gustans potuit cognoscere vitam;
Pocula quum teneris rejicit atra labris :
Inde parum gratæ lucem aversata diei,

Leniter e fragili pectore vita fugit.

TAU.