although scarcely fifteen, she had married a young man who was slain in defending the city. The wretched girl was drawn by the soldiery out of an oven, into which she had fled for shelter; and General Bauer, struck by her youth, beauty, and extreme distress, caused her to be conveyed to his own quarters; but, shortly afterwards, with a prudence and generosity most honourable to his character, and which was worthy to stamp his memory as the Russian Scipio, he procured for her the friendship of the Princess Menzikoff, then newly married. With this excellent lady she lived as a companion-for the benevolence of the young is rarely stinted-and her singular misfortunes, her simplicity, youth, and loveliness, gave the widowed maid an interest in every bosom. Here she was frequently seen by the Czar, who found that her sweet and gentle voice could calm his anger, sooth his scrrow, and excite his cheerfulness. At this period he had been in love with a merchant's daughter, who, considering his views dishonourable, and fearing to awaken his resentment by her rejection, uniting the romance with the decision of virtue, had clandestinely fled from home to the distant dwelling of her nurse, and having literally adopted the most perfect seclusion, was at this time believed, both by her friends and her lover to be dead. The novelty and beauty of Catherine, in time, not only consoled the Czar for her loss, but awoke a more active flame. Two years, however, passed before Peter the Great obtained his own consent for his marriage with Catherine, during which time, unquestionably, she became the object of his sincere esteem, not less than his affection. Never could any woman render exaltation more beneficial to others and amiable in herself than Catherine. She had a sound understanding and a tender heart-she was never more happy than when enriching and rewarding the friends of her infancy; but she carefully avoided employing them in state affairs, or in any way interfering with the politics of the country. Frankness of man anners and simplicity of mind were her most striking qualities; but, yet, considering that her high station demanded dignity of deportment, she assumed it gracefully, and Peter himself frequently exulted in the splendour and propriety of her dress and the majesty of her carriage.

It must be supposed that the empress was fondly attached to the Menzikoff family; and, as it was understood by all that the prince and the army he commanded had placed her on the throne, notwithstanding the grandson of Peter was evidently the true heir, it may be supposed at this time she felt towards her prime minister not less gratitude than affection. That the emperor had made a will in her favour was undoubted; but, as the testament remained unsigned, room was given so suspect a change in the royal intention, on which it became the nobility and ministers to deliberate; but the eagerness and eloquence of Menzikoff, the distress of the weeping and agitated widow, who appeared loath to accept the honours he offered her, and declared that her life should be devoted to the welfare of the young prince, the true heir—the memory of her benevolence, humility, and consistency, conspired to overcome the doubts, or awaken the hopes of those around; and she became empress by acclamation. Menzikoff, her most highly endowed subject, her active minister, the protégé of her illustrious husband, and the friend of her own helpless youth, combined, of course, all possible claims on her abiding friendship, and was in fact as necessary to her government as she could be to his aggrandizement.

THE WHISPERING GALLERY.

TIME has not allowed us to visit and inspect the Fresco Paintings by Mr. Mills, in the Literary Institution at Gravesend. Besides, to be candid, the subjects as described in the Kentish Herald, are not attractive. We have heard from Mrs. Malaprop of "Allegories on the banks of the Nile," and are sorry that they are come to the banks of the Thames. The proper place for such Abstractions is the Frigid Zone.

The communication from India has come to hand.

ANONYMOUS. Some gentleman-if he be a gentleman-has favoured us with a letter without his name. Will he now oblige us with his name if he have a name-without a letter?

C. C. C. Authors are expected to retain copies of their brevities. The long Peace would not suffice to return the short ones.

is advised to send his communication to some scientific Journal, and to drop the first letter in "Heditor." The word should begin with an E, except when, as Mr. Weller says, it is spelt "with a We."

L.'s paper shall be attended to when it arrives: but such slowness seems fearfully to imply its carriage per waggon.

X. is declined for a reason he will probably divine. X ought to know Y.

N.B.-Refer to the Schedule. We have received several papers on the Income Tax, but they were not properly "filled up." Besides, the thing is settled, and nothing remains for us but to attend to the Marquis of Conyngham's motto-Over, fork over!

EPIGRAM.

ON READING OF THE ADULTERATION (WITH GLASS) OF SNUFF.

I SAID to myself after reading the Times,

As I restlessly toss'd in my bed,

'Tis glass then destroys all my snuff-taking joys,
And that makes this great pane in my head!

C. C.

In the absence of direct advices or official despatches from the Far East, the following Correspondence may possess some interest for the Public; and especially for such persons as have fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, or cousins attached to the Chinese Expedition. Of the genuineness of the letters there can be no doubt: the parties are all known to us, and if necessary, we could swear to the handwriting. But the internal evidence will satisfy any competent judge who knows any thing, by books or travel, of the Celestial Empire. No corrections have been attempted, whether in style or in the orthography (for example, Morfius for Morpheus, and Romus for Remus, in No. II.), and the only suppressions are of real names, and a few domestic particulars too private for the public.-Editor.

No. I.

To Mr. Abel Dottin, Grocer, Manchester.

Dear Brother,

In spite of differings and I must say hashness on some points you will be delighted to hear I have at last got a letter from dear Gus. How it came I do not quite know, but a most gratifying one to maternal feelings and I should hope to others, however some peoples prognostifications are proved to be in the wrong. But I am not going to triumph over any one, tho if I did motherly joy might be my excuse, for her pride will rise up when a beloved son turns out such as to justify my fondest hopes and do honour to her system of bringing up. That repays for all. Nobody knows the sacrifices I have gone thro for his sake, indeed such as nothing would reconcile to, except the reflection it was all for his dear welfare, whatever others might think to the contrary. I have pinched myself in many ways both inside and out, and even more than prudence or health dictated, or even keeping up appearances, but a mother like a pelican of the wilderness will go shabby genteel or any thing for a beloved child. For of course his outfitting came very heavy, and I had to part with the Japan buffet and all my beautiful old chaney to make him fit for the Celestial Empire. Not to name all his little desideratums which at such a time I could not grudge or refuse any thing he set his heart on to an only departing son for a foreign land. As is more than some people perNov.-VOL. LXVI. NO. CCLXIII.

U

haps will simpathise with, but uncles an't mothers. Indeed his goold watch and other nicknacks ran rather over than under your kind thirty pound. Then what with bullock trunks and regimentals and other items besides chains and trinkets to barter with the natives, came to a pretty penny, so as obliged me to sell out of my long annuities and has sadly scrimped a narrow income. However I am now repaid for all my efforts and privations, and only my due and a proper reward for my own sagacity and foresight in putting my dear Gus in a line of life adapted to his uncommon cleverness. Some people I know thought otherwise, but in common justice ought to acknowledge I always predicted my son would be a shining character. Those were, my very words, and they have literally come as true as if I had been a fortunetelling gipsy. So much for cultivating genius, and which you'll excuse my saying, the mother it springs from must naturally know more about than even the best of uncles. Indeed you know yourself, to be candid, I always said he was a genius out of the common way, and was the first to put it into his head. And now I have reason to be thankful that I never thwarted him, as some people wished, but always let him have his own way in every thing, and the consequence is, instead of his being a plodding tradesman, or a low mechanick, my Augustus has distinguished himself as a shining character, and for what we know may be at this very moment a colonel, a general, or a plenipenitentiary. Every bodies nevies do not get up to that! As for himself, poor fellow, whatever other people may have said or done agin him, it is plain he harbours no malice or anymosity, or he wouldn't joke so good-humoured about your pigtail. But he always was of a forgiving disposition, bless him, and a generous nature besides, and no doubt when he comes back will bring heaps of foreign presents for all his friends and relatives. For my own part I seem to see the house turned into a perfect British Museum, what with great porcelain jars, and little tiny shoes, and bows and arrows, and the frightfullest staring idols. And the Chinese make the most beautiful carved ivory fans. So I need not grudge the Japan buffet and the old chiney,-and instead of going shabby genteel, who knows but I may some day go to routes and parties, in a rich filial silk, and be fetched home with a splendid illuminated lantern? But those are pictures some people won't or can't enter into, so I say no more. But it stands to reason one's sister must surely reflect more credit on him properly consulting appearances according to her rank in life, and handsomely dressed and set off as if she had just walked out of the Book of Beauty, than if she had just come out of Mrs. Rundle's Domestic Cookery-which is too often the case.

I enclose dear Gussy's letter of which I hope you will take religious care of, and not file it into holes like a common trumpery business letter as some in trade are too apt. Some sentences read oddish, but you must not be set agin it by his style, which to be sure ought not to be exactly like other people's who have no shining parts. At any rate, it shows uncommon cleverness and a good heart. I don't mind owning I enjoyed a good cry over those infantile Chinese fondlings, and then that savage beast! But some people are of more untender natures, not having had any family of their own. How would you like your Gus if you had one to be shot and peppered at by a set of long pig

tailed savages, contrary to all laws human and divine, as if he was no better than a preserved pheasant or a poached hare? I do hope the wretches will be well civilized for it with a broadside! But what can one expect from such wicked heathens? I only hope he won't be tempted ashore among them, but he's very venturesome, for if they once catch my dear Gus near any of their nasty Joss houses they idolize him as sure as fate!

A full sheet compels to conclude with my love-with which your nevy if he was here would unite-but alas there's oceans between. Lord preserve him from that and all other perils by sea and land, not forgetting the barbarous inhabitants of China and Tartarus! With which I remain, dear Brother,

Wisbech, 13 October.

Dear Mother,

Your affectionate Sister,

No. II.

JEMIMA BUDge.

SINCE my last from the Cape,* I suppose you have been in a regular slow fever of maternal solicitude to hear of my arrival among the Mandarines enquiring at every Tea Warehouse and Crockery shop whether they have heard any thing from Canton, and expecting twelve general posts a day, and twenty particular ones with a letter from "

China."

my son in Well, here it is at last, warranted oriental, and if it don't go thro' the parish like the Asiatic Cholera I know nothing about letters from sons in foreign parts. Of course Mrs. Dewdny will have the first reading of it and Mrs. Spooner the last, as she always has of her own novelties in her Circulating Library. I think I see her with her hands flapping up and down, and hear her clucking with her tongue and saying,

"Well-dear me-I never! To think of Mister Gustavus being where all the tea comes from-By the by, Mrs. B., you don't want any real Howqua?--and the ladies can't walk for their little shoesCaptain Pidding's you know-well, I'll order Lord Jocelyn-in catty packages, you see, ma'am-for the Library-and so Mister Gustavus really is at Kang Tong-did you ever read Letters from the Dead to the Living-well I never!-dear me !"

However, here I am-knocking about in the Chinese waters, not black or green though, as Mrs. Spooner would suppose, but decidedly yellow. Just fancy an ocean of pea-soup, such as you used to make at home and then talk of throwing it over the house,-quite as thick and of the same colour, with lots of weeds floating about in it like the mint, but whole instead of crumbled-in short, so like the real thing that I was spoon enough to taste it; and really it might pass for workhouse pea-soup, only salted with rather a heavy hand.

Well, after soup, fish-and what do you think of square miles of it, as we neared the land,-whole shoals, big and little, from sprats up to porpuses, with strange sorts never seen before, all floating on the surface belly upwards, just like old Parkington's carp when somebody had hocussed them with Cockulus Indicus.

This letter never reached its destination.