seen at her son's (of green velvet, with a red heel), had remained on the floor, near the large arm-chair, and it is all that has ever been found belonging to her. It was known that her son, the Cardinal de Tavannes, had hastened to the spot to institute judicial proceedings, but it was surmised that the Attorney-General of Bourgogne had intimated to him that the honour of his house might be compromised. Be this as it may, the cardinal suddenly abandoned his project of inquiry, and hastily returned to his diocese of Chalons. He was not at this time archbishop of Rouen. Some talked of sorcery and suspected relations with Bohemians; others spoke of the Deacon Paris, or the Chevalier de Follerat; then again of vampirism, which, however, could never account for the evaporation of a large woman of five feet four, without any trace. Every one talked of it, and for a long time, for the reason that they did not know what to say on the subject. The Chevalier d'Aguesseau has frequently repeated to me that he did not know any more of the circumstance than we did, and that it was an unfathomable event. Forty years have elapsed, and no explanation has come to light. ARAB MARRIAGE. THE following interesting account of an Arab marriage is given in M. de Lamartine's "Travels in the East." This moment of calm and leisure was occupied in the preparations for a marriage between Giarah, son of Fares, chief of the tribe of El Harba, and Sabha, daughter of Bargiass, the most beautiful maid of the desert. Fares begged the Drahy (the most powerful chief of the Bedouins, and to whom the French emissaries had particularly attached themselves) to accompany him to Bargiass, to demand the lady in marriage. The chiefs of the tribes, in their richest dresses, escorted them. We arrived at the tent of Bargiass without any one coming to meet us. Bargiass rose not to receive us such is the custom on the occasion. The least appearance of an advance is considered indelicate. After a few moments of silence, the Drahy spoke; "Why," said he, "do you give us so bad a reception? If you will not offer us refreshment, we will return home." Meantime Sabha, being concealed in a part of the tent reserved for the women, regarded her wooer through an opening in the cloth. Before the negotiation commences, it is necessary that the young maiden should make a sign that she accepts the lover presented to her; for if, after this secret examination, she tells her mother that her destined husband does not please her, the contemplated marriage is broken off. But, on the present occasion, the young man was handsome and of a noble and proud bearing, and Sabha made a sign of consent to her mother, who then replied to the Drahy, "You are welcome! Not only will we give you to eat, with all our heart, but we will grant you all that you desire." "We have come," replied the Drahy, "to ask your daughter in marriage, for the son of our friend; what do you ask for her marriage portion?" "One hundred nakas," (female goats of the finest description), replied Bargiass; "five hundred horses of the race of Nedgde, five hundred sheep, three negroes and three negresses to wait upon Sabha; and for her trousseau, a shawl embroidered with gold, a robe of damask silk, ten bracelets of amber and of coral, and yellow boots." The Drahy made some observations on this exorbitant demand, saying, "You wish, then, to justify the Arab proverb-If you desire not to marry your daughter, exaggerate her price. Be a little more reasonable if you wish the marriage to take place." Finally, the portion was settled at fifty nackas, two horses, two hundred sheep, a negro and a negress. The trousseau demanded was granted. After having written this agreement, I read it with a loud voice. Then all present recited the prayer Faliha, the paternoster of the Mussulmans, which gives a sanction to the contract; and then goat's milk was served round to all the guests. After this repast, the younger persons of the party mounted on horseback to hurl the dijierid, and amuse themselves in other warlike pastimes. We separated at the close of the day, and nothing was thought of but preparations for the nuptial festival. After the expiration of three days, the marriage portion was ready. An immense cortège took the road to escort it, in the following order: in front marched a horseman with a white flag on the point of his lance; he cried out, as he advanced, "I am the bearer of the stainless honour of Bargiass." After him came the camels, decorated with garlands, flowers, and foliage, with their ductors; then the negro on horseback, richly dressed, surrounded by men foot, singing popular airs. Behind them marched a troop of warriors, armed with matchlocks, which they fired off con con on tinually. Then followed a woman, carrying a vase of fire, in which she threw incense. Then the flock of milk sheep, driven on by shepherds, singing the same songs as Chibouk, the mother of Antar, sang near two thousand years ago; for the manners of the Bedouins never change. Then came the negroes on horseback, and surrounded by two hundred women on foot; this group uttered cries of joy, and sang nuptial songs which pierced the ears. The procession was closed by the camel which bore the trousseau the shawl, embroidered with gold, hung like drapery over its back; the yellow boots dangled from its sides; and the objects of value, arranged in festoons, and built up with great taste, formed a sumptuous coronal. A little child, of the most illustrious family, mounted on this camel, cried out aloud, May we be for ever victorious, and may the fires of our enemies be for ever extinguished!" As for me, I ran about from one side to the other, the better to enjoy this spectacle. TAKING OFF A HEAD. MR. Hoskins, in his recently published "Travels in Ethiopia," relates the following anecdote, which is highly characteristic of the great men of the East. "In our tent, yesterday, we took the figure and costume of a Bishareen boy, about eighteen, whose father, a powerful sheakh, had attempted to excite a revolt against the Pasha. Not being successful, he fled, and his son was detained in prison until the father paid a fine of 250 camels. By way of a jest, though a barbarous one, which I should not have allowed had I known of it, the Bey and his officers told the poor boy that we were to cut off his head, being Turks deputed from Cairo for that special purpose. He sat down on the ground in the attitude represented, with his head turned on one side, and remained motionless, in the same position, nearly three quarters of an hour. We remarked that we had never had a subject who sat so patiently. When we had finished, we told him he might get up, making him, at the same time, a small present; when, with a look of bewildered delight, he told us how differently he expected to have been treated, and that he had been awaiting every moment the stroke of the sabre. "In the evening, when we were with the Bey, he sent for the poor youth, and frightened him again by telling him that, by virtue of the drawing we had made, we had a magical power over him, and should transport him with us into our own country. He opened his mouth aghast, asked everybody if it were true, and seemed struck with horror at the idea of never again seeing his native deserts. He addressed his inquiries particularly to Sheakh Seyd, who, as chief of the Ababdes, he did not think capable of deceiving him; but I verily believe many of the meliks and chiefs present, who affected to join in the laugh, really had doubts and misgivings that such, in truth, was the necromantic power of our pencils, and particularly of the camera lucida, with which I drew several of them. My artist took the Bey's likeness, at his own particular desire; I conceive, for one of his favourites. He was very well satisfied with the representation of his figure, rich costume, his sword and accoutrements, and of the fierceness of his mustachios; but he did not understand the shading, and begged my artist 'to take away those black things.' Before leaving Makkarif, the Bey shewed me round the indigo and hide manufactories belonging to the government. I parted from him with some regret, for he is decidedly the best Turk I have ever known; and it was a great pleasure for a few days to meet with such courtesy in these wild regions of interior Africa." BOOKS RULE THE WORLD. As Robinson Crusoe has sent many a spirited youth from the safe footing of dry land, in quest of adventures on the unstable element, so I believe can the influence of every volume be traced in its effects on a peculiar tribe of followers, to whom it has given an impulse in some path of life. There are those who have shaped their character according to the sage advice annually doled out in the appendix of an Almanac; and a select few have had their souls fired with heroic daring, by perusal of the bold achievements of Thomas Thumb. Wherever a book falls, there arises a spark which nothing but death can put out. A Every man looks into a book as he looks into his glass-to adjust his opinions, and smooth down some rough spot on the face of his character. book is a sort of little philosopher, whom we can force to chat whenever we choose, and draw from him an oracle without a fee; whom, as we bring fresh and warm from the book-shop, we tuck under our arm as if a wife or bosom-crony; and, retreating with it into some snug corner, hold agreeable and uninterrupted gossip. HISTORIC GLEANINGS. "History is philosophy teaching by example." Lord Bolingbroke. RICHARD III. TUDOR well knew that he had no right to the throne, save the right of the victor, and that, after his spontaneous welcome as king, a time of re-action would come, when the vanquished party might obtain the sympathy, at least, of the people; he judged that nothing was more likely to intercept the return of those kindly feelings, than the widely-spread rumour that Richard was a monster of iniquity. There has always seemed to us somewhat of deep policy in the variety of murders with which he is charged. For the Lancastrians and the devout, there was the murder of "good King Henry," a charge which rests not, on the slightest foundation; for the adherents of the house of York, there was the murder of Clarence and the two young princes; while, to excite the rage of the whole female population, there was the murder of his wife, who unquestionably died of a lingering disease. Thus, to Lancastrian and Yorkist alike, Tudor stood forth as the avenger of their wrongs; while many a simple-minded man, who knew or cared nought about abstract political rights, listened with horror to the tale of the children's death in the Tower, and prepared to do homage to the upstart house of Tudor, as the instrument of signal vengeance in the hand of Providence. That many circumstances conspire to render it probable that Richard had some hand in the mysterious disappearance of his nephews, and perhaps in their death, cannot be denied; but then there was a reason for this, while in the other instances, he would seem to have been actuated by a mere love of murder. As to the point of Richard's extreme deformity, altogether unimportant as that is, in comparison with the weightier charges brought against him, it yet proves the bitter spite by which his enemies were influenced. How could a deformed man, an absolute hunchback, have "cased his limbs in complete steel?" how could he have poised a lance, the mere weight of which would have overburdened half the soldiers of the present day? But the truth is, that whoever is an object of fear or hatred, is always invested with deformity. Cromwell was the most disgusting of objects, according to the Cavalier faith; and many of our readers doubtless recollect that the personal beauty of Napoleon, could not prevent his being represented as a deformed dwarf by the furious anti-Jacobins. Most of the foregoing remarks, by the Editor of the Athenæum, are perfectly just; but there is nothing new in them. It has always appeared to us as more than doubtful, that Richard was humpbacked, though doubtless round-shouldered; and, as most round-shouldered men generally are, a very powerful fellow. The deformity was such as the armour of that time might be made to cover. As to his carrying a lance which would have been a load to a soldier of the present day, the idea is ridiculous; the lance of that period was not so formidable; and there are hundreds of men in our foot guards as strong as those who did battle at Bosworth field, much as we have degenerated. If any man doubt this, let him take a look at the Oxford Blues, and some of the Grenadier regiments. It is in large cities only that the human race is warped and stunted. Let the Editor take a trip into the counties of Devon, Somerset, Cornwall, Gloucester, or Wilts, and go to some wrestling match or single-stick meeting, and he will soon alter his opinion, and come to the conclusion, that although the staff of Richard's spear was a stout one, it was not quite so large "as a weaver's beam.” [ED. PARTERRE.] IMITATED FROM GOETHE'S WILHELM MEISTER. Know'st thou that land, the land of love, Midst emerald leaves, where gaily shines The golden orange-in whose grove Laurel with myrtle fondly twines? Those scenes were made for love and thee. That governed once the earth's wide sphere? THE NATURALIST. A TAME PANTHER. MRS. Lee has just published a volume under the title of "Stories of Strange Lands," which contains a vast deal of amusing gossip on various subjects. The following account of a tame panther, is amusing, as all such accounts are; but we are obliged to confess that we would rather not subject ourselves to a trial of the docility of any wild animal. Such license to brutes of this species has often led to frightful catastrophies. Saï descended from his station, and held his head to us to be patted, as if in approbation of his feat. The time came for him to be embarked, and he was shut into a large, strong cage, with iron bars in front, and put into a canoe; while there, the motion made him restless, and he uttered a howl, which so frightened the canoe men, that they lost their balance, set up a howl in echo, and upset the canoe. We were watching his embarkation from one of the castle windows; and when we saw the cage floating on the waves, we gave our pet up as lost, and I am not sure that we did not make a trio in the cry; but fortunately a boat immediately put off from the ship, the men in which caught hold of the cage just as it was on the point of sinking. The panther was installed close by the fore-mast, and I did not fail to pay him a visit the moment I went on board. He was very dull; and, perhaps, a little sea-sick, but was half frantic with joy on seeing me. THE EARL AND THE LOWLY "This animal (says the lady), came from Coomassie with Mr. Hutchison, the resident left there by Mr. Bowdich, and, as he was 'very young, the efforts made by that gentleman and others to tame him, were completely successful, Nothing alive was ever given to him to eat; and so well was he trained, that frequently on their march to the coast, when the natives would not contribute any provisions, he would catch a fowl, and lay it at the feet of Mr. Hutchison, who always rewarded him with a select morsel. On arriving at Cape Coast, he was tied up for a few days with a slight cord, and after that remained at liberty, with a boy to watch that he did not annoy the officers of the castle. He especially attached himself to me and the Governor, probably because we bestowed more caresses on him than any one else: we took care, however, to keep his claws well filed, that we might not get an unintentional scratch. He was as playful as a kitten, and a few days after his cord had been taken away, he took it into his head to bound round the whole fort; the boy ran after him, which THE sad but stately procession had he, mistaking for fun, only increased his passed into the church, and even the speed, and caused him to dash through aisles of the venerable building were all the narrow spaces. Most of the in- thronged with persons. One might habitants were frightened out of their have thought, who looked upon the cosenses, and it was highly amusing to see ronet, glittering on the cushion of crimthe sudden disappearance of all living son velvet, and all the other insignia of things, even to the sentinels. When tired high rank, that curiosity alone had drawn he quietly walked in at my door, and his thither such a crowd; but a deeper inpursuers found him lying on the ground terest was marked on every countenance; beside me, composing himself to sleep, and the firm voice of the minister had whence he was taken without the least faltered more than once, as he read the resistance. Saï's chief amuse- solemn service. Yet the coffin was that ment was standing on his hind legs, of a child, a little tender infant, who resting his fore paws on the window-sill, had died in its first unconscious helplessand fixing his head between them, in ness. Every one thought of the father, this posture to contemplate all that was standing up among them, and looking going on in the town below. The Gover- so desolate in his grief. More than one nor's children, however, often disputed fond mother wept, and drew her red this post with him, and dragged him down cloak closely round the infant on her by the tail, which he bore with perfect bosom, as she gazed round upon the good-humour. An old woman, who mournful pomp, and the little coffin, always swept the great hall before dinner, and the young nobleman—childless, and was performing her daily office with a worse than widowed-O yes! worse small hand-brush, and consequently going than widowed! as he stood there, and over the floor nearly on hands and knees. followed with his eyes the movement of Saï, who had been sleeping under one the men then placing the coffin of his of the sofas, suddenly rushed out, and child in the shadowy darkness of the leaping on the woman's back, stood there open vault below him. That church with his head on one side, his tail swing- was a place of agonizing recollection to ing backwards and forwards, the very the young Earl of Derby. Often had personification of mischief. The he entered it a happy husband; and, as Governor and myself, hearing the noise, he walked slowly down the aisle to his also came to the scene of action, when carriage, he could not help recalling the day when his beautiful and modest bride had clung, in trembling bashfulness, to his arm, when he had there, for the first time, called her his wife. "I am sick of all this idle pomp!" he said to himself, as he entered the wide hall of his own magnificent residence, attended by his train of servants, and met by the obsequious bows of the men who had conducted the funeral; “I am sick of all this mockery! I will bear it no longer. Would that I were a poor, hard-work. ing peasant, with some honest hearts to care for me, and love me. I am heartily tired of your great people!" Not many weeks after the funeral of the heir of the noble house of Derby, a solitary wayfaring man stopped at the turning of a little footpath, which led down the sloping side of the hill overlooking the village of H. He had been leisurely wandering on since the early hours of the morning, and had not yet found the place where he would rest for the night. "Here, at least, is a happy scene," he said, as he looked down upon the little village at the foot of the hill. About fifty or sixty persons were scattered, in careless groups, about the pleasant green. Some of them were dancing beneath a venerable grove of elms, others were crowding round the only booth which had been raised in the rustic fair. "At least, I may witness their enjoyment, though I cannot share it," he said; and, in a few moments he was standing beneath the old trees on the green. But, although he was not recognized as the Earl of Derby, and disgusted by the attentions paid to his rank and station, he found the familiarity of vulgar minds, and low manners, not quite so agreeable as he had perhaps expected. Quietly he turned away from the noisy scene. He passed over the old bridge, which crosses the clear and shallow stream, and turned down a lane, the banks of which were overgrown with wild flowers, and straggling bushes of birch, sufficiently high and thick to meet over-head, and form a perfect bower of grateful shade. A poor woman was returning home through the lane with her children, her infant sleeping soundly on her bosom, and a curly-headed urchin distending his cheeks with puffing at a little painted trumpet, the horrid grating of which had all the charm of novelty and noise to him. The young mother looked so hot and tired, and withal so good-humoured, that the carl Be The woman pointed to a little path, not very far from the spot where they stood, which turned suddenly out of the lane into a wood, overhanging the river; and directed him to follow it through a large corn-field, and up a very steep, sandy lane; and then, for about half a mile over-but such directions are tiresome enough when one is obliged to listen to them to learn one's own way; here, they would be even more so. sides, I am not sure the earl attended to the poor woman, for he lost his way. He walked on, wrapped in his own melancholy thoughts, but soothed, in every sense, by the cool fresh air, the gurgling flow of the river, and all those distant sounds, which, in the quiet fields, on a fair calm evening, fall so sweetly indistinct upon the ear. But the sun had set before the wanderer awoke to the recollection of the purpose before him. He looked around him; he saw green and sloping hills, many stately trees, and the same calm river flowing gently below, but no house. At last, where the leafy shade was deepest, he discovered a pile of old, quaintly-shaped chimneys, opposed against the glowing sky. He had not proceeded far in the direction of the farm-house, which now plainly appeared among the trees, when a light step seemed to approach him, and then stopped suddenly; and he heard the sound of unrestrained weeping. A hazel copse separated him from the meadow whence the sound proceeded; but, on peeping through a little opening, he saw that a young girl was sitting on the bank of the meadow on the other side. For a little while she continued weeping-only for a little while-then clasping her hands together, she raised her head, and her whole heart seemed to look up to heaven in her meek and stedfast gaze. Still she sat there, almost without stirring, except that, once or twice, she looked down upon the green grass, and her hand dropped, half forgetfully, half playfully, among the flowers that grew in wild luxuriance beside her, as if she was pleased with, but scarcely knew she noticed them. Just then the rich song of the nightingale burst upon the stillness of the evening, and stole away her ear; and though her thoughts seemed yet to linger on, about the subject which had made her weep, she listened till at |