Deer Lick course, like falling off a log. She's a holy critter I tell you, and throws it down a little thicker on the grit, and shoots ahead a leetle faster than the fastest kind of lightning. Traveller-Good day, sir. And may old Nick take John Smith, his wife, daughter, negroes, and sundries in general; and you and your amplification' in particular. (Puts spurs to his horse in a fit of absolute despair of obtaining a direct answer to a simple question.) N. C.-The same to you sir. And may old Nick take you and your hoss too. Why I never seed such a man. He kept asking, and asking, and I kept telling and telling and he would'nt listen a single bit. Why, he would'nt even wait till I told what John gave for his mare, besides a hundred other little things, that would have been news to him, and made the time pass off agreeable. Well, let him go ahead, But if he goes the road he's started on in such a hurry, he won't get to John Smith's, and that's some comfort, any way. (Resumes the hewing of the axletree.) THE PHILOSOPHY OF DRINKING. Bacchus first introduced the vine into Italy, and soon afterwards entering into partnership with Apollo, they laid their sapient heads together, and produced a liquor which speedily attracted the attention of a "discerning public," and ultimately of the whole world. The birth of rosy wine was hailed with the most enthusiastic delight; and old and young, rich and poor, alike saluted the ruby lips of the young bantling with the most affectionate ardour. Care, a wrinkled and bilious-visaged old dame, who rocked the cradle, fell fast asleep, was consequently discharged, and never again allowed to appear in the presence of the darling. Like Mrs. Johnson's "American Soothing Syrup," wine proved not only "a real blessing to mothers," but their numerous offspring imbibed the fermented and exhilarating juice with a gusto that was surprising. In the process of time it was universally called the "milk of old men." Bald-headed philosophers, whose "capillary attractions" had slipped, like an avalanche of snow, from the summit of their erudite noddles, and now adorned their chins, waxed eloquent, their languid muscles being duly lubricated with the loquacious liquor. Long before the invention of spectacles, these far-seeing mortals discovered that the transfusion of a certain quantum of the "blood of the grape" enabled them to see double! Here was an advantage! and they consequently absorbed large quantities for the benefit of their fellow-men. They sincerely believed that they had found the true "pabulum animi," and boldly became bibuous and-bottle-nosed. But I fear that I am growing too poetical. How natural is the simple act-how simple the natural act —of drinking! Before the glorious invention of wine, that one dissyllable alone was sufficient to convey the meaning of imbibing a certain measure of milk, or a " yard of pump-water;" but in these glorious days of "Hock and soda-water,"-Laffitte, Chateau Margot, Champagne d'Ai, Burgundy, &c., &c.—the very vocabulary is enlarged; exempli gratia,— And then, again, in those early days (so remote, that even Early Purl Houses" were unknown) the meanest capacity understood that when a man had drunk his fill, he had "slaked his thirst," and moistened his parched lips; there was then (0 ye teetotalers!) no inebriation. Even had a man had the "fee simple" of a whole pump, he never made free with it, or was found lying under it, or attempting to "light his pipe at it." Now, in this age of rapid progression and "public spirit," our philolo gists and lexicographers have a most enviable opportunity of enriching the language by the addition of many words, of which the venerable "Drunk" is the patriarch and legitimate progenitor. As thus: Drunk Bacchi plenus, Sacrificing to the rosy god, (N.B.-These two terms are generally kept stereotyped by the printers of the Half seas over, morning papers.) Three sheets in the wind, Sewed up like a sand-bag, Not able to see a hole in which last phrase is customarily used by the police, when they accidentally discover a genteel, well-dressed medical student, or a lawyer's articled clerk (both "honourable men,") lying quite at home in a gutter, and poking his latch key at the grating of the gulley-hole, in the vain endeavour to "let himself in."-Bentley's Miscellany. LEAVES FROM THE PORTFOLIO OF A WANDERER. No. 1. LA BELLE FLEURISTE. BY MRS. E. S. CRAVEN GREEN. "And thou leavest me, Henri, mon ami!" "Only for a time, sweet Anais !-ere thine orange tree is in blossom Henri will Dost thou doubt me, dearest ?" return. "Ah no, Henri ! I dare not doubt thee-thou wilt return !"--And the sweet lips of Anais trembled as they timidly returned the impassioned kiss of Henri. The young painter and his humble love, the fair and timid Anais, occupied the mansardes of opposite houses in a lonely street in Paris. It was impossible that the eyes of the artist should not be allured by a face so simply and touchingly beautiful as that of his fair neighbour, and that he should not desert his easel to gaze upon her as she occasionally appeared at her open lattice to compare the delicate work of her white hands with the living blossoms placed in a simple earthen vase beside the casement. Anais was a FLEURISTE, and her exquisite taste led her to copy nature rather than to combine the impossible and the gaudy. It was quite natural that the artist should admire La Belle Fleuriste, and the young orphan herself-ah! when was the eye of woman blind to admiration ?-they loved, and one short month of halcyon bliss had scattered roses on their path, when a cruel necessity called Henri from Paris. They parted, and to Anais how dear became that orange tree whose blossoms were to be the heralds of his return! With what rapture did she inhale its perfume, as the snowy buds.showed a gleam of silver through their veil of green! They opened and disclosed their golden spangles glittering in their crystal hearts !-alas they withered, and Anais wept for she was still alone ! The beautiful Lady Julia Elmcourt was vain, capricious, and haughty, even beyond her "pride of place," but she was immensely rich, and Lord Arlingford was her adoring Deer Lick course, like falling off a log. She's a holy critter I tell you, and throws it down a little thicker on the grit, and shoots ahead a leetle faster than the fastest kind of lightning. Traveller-Good day, sir. And may old Nick take John Smith, his wife, daughter, negroes, and sundries in general; and you and your amplification' in particular. (Puts spurs to his horse in a fit of absolute despair of obtaining a direct answer to a simple question.) N. C.-The same to you sir. And may old Nick take you and your hoss too. Why I never seed such a man. He kept asking, and asking, and I kept telling and telling and he would'nt listen a single bit. Why, he would'nt even wait till I told what John gave for his mare, besides a hundred other little things, that would have been news to him, and made the time pass off agreeable. Well, let him go ahead. But if he goes the road he's started on in such a hurry, he won't get to John Smith's, and that's some comfort, any way. (Resumes the hewing of the axletree.) THE PHILOSOPHY OF DRINKING. Bacchus first introduced the vine into Italy, and soon afterwards entering into partnership with Apollo, they laid their sapient heads together, and produced a liquor which speedily attracted the attention of a "discerning public," and ultimately of the whole world. The birth of rosy wine was hailed with the most enthusiastic delight; and old and young, rich and poor, alike saluted the ruby lips of the young bantling with the most affectionate ardour. Care, a wrinkled and bilious-visaged old dame, who rocked the cradle, fell fast asleep, was consequently discharged, and never again allowed to appear in the presence of the darling. Like Mrs. Johnson's "American Soothing Syrup," wine proved not only "a real blessing to mothers," but their numerous offspring imbibed the fermented and exhilarating juice with a gusto that was surprising. In the process of time it was universally called the "milk of old men." Bald-headed philosophers, whose "capillary attractions" had slipped, like an avalanche of snow, from the summit of their erudite noddles, and now adorned their chins, waxed eloquent, their languid muscles being duly lubricated with the loquacious liquor. Long before the invention of spectacles, these far-seeing mortals discovered that the transfusion of a certain quantum of the "blood of the grape" enabled them to seedouble! Here was an advantage! and they consequently absorbed large quantities for the benefit of their fellow-men. They sincerely believed that they had found the true "pabulum animi," and boldly became bibuous and-bottle-nosed. But I fear that I am growing too poetical. How natural is the simple act-how simple the natural act -of drinking! Before the glorious invention of wine, that one dissyllable alone was sufficient to convey the meaning of imbibing a certain measure of milk, or a "yard of pump-water;" but in these glorious days of "Hock and soda-water,"-Laffitte, Chateau Margot, Champagne d'Ai, Burgundy, &c., &c.—the very vocabulary is enlarged; exempli gratia,– - DRINKING! 66 And then, again, in those early days (so remote, that even Early Purl Houses" were unknown) the meanest capacity understood that when a man had drunk his fill, he had "slaked his thirst," and moistened his parched lips; there was then (0 ye teetotalers!) no inebriation. Even had a man had the "fee simple" of a whole pump, he never made free with it, or was found lying under it, or attempting to "light his pipe at it." Now, in this age of rapid progression and "public spirit," our philolo gists and lexicographers have a most enviable opportunity of enriching the language by the addition of many words, of which the venerable "Drunk" is the patriarch and legitimate progenitor. As thus: Drunk- Bacchi plenus, Sacrificing to the rosy god, (N.B.-These two terms are generally kept stereotyped by the printers of the morning papers.) which last phrase is customarily used by the police, when they accidentally discover a genteel, well-dressed medical student, or a lawyer's articled clerk (both "honourable men,") lying quite at home in a gutter, and poking his latch key at the grating of the gulley-hole, in the vain endeavour to "let himself in.”—Bentley's Miscellany. LEAVES FROM THE PORTFOLIO OF A WANDERER. No. 1. LA BELLE FLEURISTE. BY MRS. E. S. CRAVEN GREEN. "And thou leavest me, Henri, mon ami !" "Only for a time, sweet Anais !-ere thine orange tree is in blossom Henri will return. Dost thou doubt me, dearest ?" "Ah no, Henri! I dare not doubt thee-thou wilt return !"-And the sweet lips of Anais trembled as they timidly returned the impassioned kiss of Henri. The young painter and his humble love, the fair and timid Anais, occupied the mansardes of opposite houses in a lonely street in Paris. It was impossible that the eyes of the artist should not be allured by a face so simply and touchingly beautiful as that of his fair neighbour, and that he should not desert his easel to gaze upon her as she occasionally appeared at her open lattice to compare the delicate work of her white hands with the living blossoms placed in a simple earthen vase beside the casement. Anais was a FLEURISTE, and her exquisite taste led her to copy nature rather than to combine the impossible and the gaudy. It was quite natural that the artist should admire La Belle Fleuriste, and the young orphan herself-ah! when was the eye of woman blind to admiration ?-they loved, and one short month of halcyon bliss had scattered roses on their path, when a cruel necessity called Henri from Paris. They parted, and to Anais how dear became that orange tree whose blossoms were to be the heralds of his return! With what rapture did she inhale its perfume, as the snowy buds,showed a gleam of silver through their veil of green! They opened and disclosed their golden spangles glittering in their crystal hearts!-alas they withered, and Anais wept for she was still alone! * The beautiful Lady Julia Elmcourt was vain, capricious, and haughty, even beyond her "pride of place," but she was immensely rich, and Lord Arlingford was her adoring 38 LEAVES FROM THE PORTFOLIO OF A WANDERER. slave. His extravagances and dissipation in London and on his continental tour had materially embarrassed his estates, and the elegant roué bent humbly beneath the golden fetters which his fair tyrant cast around him. Supremely handsome in his person, and recherché in his manners, Lady Julia certainly showed her taste in her selection of Lord Arlingford as a parti. She had a strange pride in becoming the sole object in the eyes of one whose fascinations were supposed to have broken so many hearts, and for whom she supposed so many of her dearest friends had sighed in vain. Perhaps that was one of the most powerful reasons that dictated her choice, for "I will see you to the carriage, dearest Julia, though you will not admit me. Ah! how cruel you are-may I venture to gaze upon your beauty at a distance ?" "No, indeed, my Lord, I forbid you visiting the opera to-night-I shall go alone, and I will have no surviellance. You should have remembered that I dislike Parma violets. How could you think of presenting me a bouquet of such flowers? You must have heard me express my dislike for their peculiar perfume." Lord Arlingford knew this was a mere display of caprice, as she had lately worn the despised flowers en guirlande in her hair (artificial it is true, but art had so delicately copied nature that the deception was scarcely perceptible) however he looked very penitent, and was permitted to hand the haughty beauty to her carriage. Just as they were leaving the apartment the servant in waiting presented a note, Lady Julia looked at it on the salver and said peevishly, "Ah! that tiresome fleuriste !—there is no reply." Lord Arlingford handed her into the carriage, but as the door was closing a timid voice exclaimed, “Ah, Madame ! but the smallest portion of my account—I am perishing." The rattle of the wheels drowned the rest, and, with a disdainful bow to her lover, the proud beauty was borne away to the opera. But that voice! ah! when before had it thrilled upon the heart of Arlingford ?— he gazed around, an emaciated figure slowly retreated with tottering steps. It past from sight-ah! Memory and Conscience awoke in the roué's heart-he pursued that shrinking form, now ardent, now wavering in his purpose, till in an obscure street the trembler fell! To raise her, to gaze upon her features was the work of a moment and Henri, the artiste, looked once more upon Anais !-But, oh how changed! Famine and despair had darkened that fair brow and cast livid shadows on the sweet lips that once glowed beneath his kisses !— 66 Anais, Anais !" he cried, "awake-forgive me-oh forgive your repenting Henri !" Slowly did the sufferer awake to consciousness, but the new thrill of rapturous recognition was as fatal as the withering sorrows that had so long preyed upon her heart. "I find thee, Henri! but, alas, too late! Long have I sought thee. I scattered orange blossoms on the grave of my child and wandered over the wide seas to find thee! I toiled to support life, for I still hoped to meet with Henri. Ah! that proud Lady, how often has the work of my wasted hands and failing eyes adorned her gorgeous robes, her perfumed hair! but she forgot the dying fleuriste was perishing for bread-ah, Henri was I not forgotten by thee !-my eyes grow dim, cannot look upon thee; nay, weep not, dearest, I feel it is sweet to slumber thus the night cometh, but on thy bosom once more shall Anais sink to rest !"— Her head drooped heavily on his shoulder-there was a strange shuddering thrill, a trembling sob, and La Belle Fleuriste was no more !— THF OAK AND THE IVY. "TWAS springtide; I saw them in beauty and pride, |