Now,

of steaks,' said he quite, jovially. gentlemen,' cried Monsieur, 'come and see the thermometer; but you must look sharp, because the least approach to the cold air will make it fall rapidly.

Three gentlemen went up to the oven to examine. He seized the thermometer from the interior of the oven and held it out. 'How much? how much?" It was several seconds before they found the mercury, and then it was 380. 'Oh,' said he, 'it is at least 480, it has fallen since I took it out.' He replaced the thermometer, put a black cap on his head, had the dish of steaks placed along side of him, took a large tin tube which he protruded through an aperture in the iron door to breathe through, and then entered the oven. During his stay in the oven he looked through his tube, talked rapidly and sung a pretty French air. He was continually asking how many minutes, gentlemen? How many?-One,'-Two,'

6

"Three.' 'Oh it must be more, gentlemen; oh it is very hot, gentlemen; full 500 degrees; how many minutes?' • FourFive-Six-Seven-Eight minutes.' At eight minutes and fifty one seconds from his entrance, out he bounced, came down on the stage all covered with perspiration. 'Feel his pulse,' cried several of the physicians. 'Oh yes, gentlemen, feel my pulse,' said he, holding out both his arms. It was felt immediately and found to be as high as 160. 'No

deception,' said he.

The devil a bit of deception is there,' said one of the spectators Fetch me out the beef-steaks,' said Monsieur, they are well done now.' The dish

was brought down and quite a rush was made upon them. Every one that could reach the platform, cut a piece off and fell at eating. These steaks are very fine,' said one. 'Rather too much done,' said another. That fellow Chaubert,' said a grave looking personage chewing his steak and leaving the room, is certainly his Satanic Majesty himself. Dr. Mott went up to the oven, put his head into the door, drew it rapidly out, and nodded very significantly, as much as to say, all right, no deception.' The rest of 'the spectators stood gazing, talking, and expressing wonder, surprise, and astonishment.

he

Monsieur Chaubert was a Captain in the service of Napoleon. He was taken prisoner by the Russians and sent to Siberia, whereit is supposed he discovered his secret antidote to fire and poison. Two years ago excited great astonishment in London, and satisfied the college of Physicians and Surgeons, that there was no deception in his experiments. He was offered £5000. for his antidote to prussic acid, but would not take less than £10,000. He has a family of ten children-is a good looking man—with an oval face and fine person. He wears mustachios. He is quite talkative and intelligent, speaks fourteen languages-but English rather incorrectly. He is truly a wonder.

BOB BOWLES,

My reader will suppose that in the very heart of "Ould Ireland," and at a period and place when all was bustle and variety, our old acquaintance Bob Bowles, found abundant game for his laugh-hunting appetite. The Green-room was a daily reservoir into which his observations were emptied. Bob had a great talent in detecting the more especial, if minute, features of the ridiculous in real life, and presenting them under some sort of dramatic form. He was both a humorist and a mimic,-thus he gave the spirit with the manner. He related a conversation one day between two of the "darlings,' which, though requiring voice and features to give his effect to, as exhibiting some traits of Hibernian ingenuity, may be worth while to introduce.

His landlady was what was termed a "general dealer," and, among other things, sold bread and whiskey. A customer entering her shop, inquired if she had any thing to ate and drink. "To be sure," she replied; "I have got a thimbleful of the crature, my darling, that comes ounly to twopence; and this big little loaf you may have for the same money!"" Both twopence?"-"Both the same—as l'am a Christian woman, and worth double the sum." "Fill me the whiskey, if you plase." She did so, and he drank it; then rejoined-"It comes to twopence, my

jewel-I'm not hungry; take back the loaf," tendering it "Yes, honey, but what pays for the whiskey ?"—"Why, the loaf, to be sure!"-" But you haven't paid for the loaf ?" "Why, you wouldn't have a man pay for a thing he hasn't eat ?"—A friend going by was called in by the landlady to decide this difficulty, who gave it against her; and from some deficiency in her powers of calculation, she permitted the rogue to escape.

Passing with Bowles one day down a back street, we observed a number of children on both sides of the way, sitting before the doors, and combing their heads upon a pair of bellows, the broad surface of which afforded an ample field for the annihilation of their little victims. Bowles was immediately struck with the appearance of these anti-verminists, and stopped to contemplate the labours of one young lady in particular, who differing from her companions, was going through the process with a cool and even mechanical regularity. "Innocent minds !" exclaimed I, "whom youthful sports and childhood's toils can please."-"All alive in this quarter, Jack," responded Bowles. As we passed on, the same scene presented itself at every other door-children of all ages and both sexes armed with the deadly apparatus of bellows and comb, against the lives of the unfortunate tenants of their heads. "This seems to be a general day of purification, Jack," said Bowles. "'Gad, there's a sympathy in it,'

pretending to scratch his head, evidently in want of an opportunity to exercise his waggish inclination. At length we came to a shop, behind the counter of which stood a red-nosed, fat-faced, vulgar-looking vender of edibles and drinkables. Bowles, releasing my arm, jumped into the door, and taking off. his hat, said," Pray, Madam, would you oblige me?"-" Och," said she, "Sirr, you may have all I have got in the shop, and a "" deal more. Then, may I request

great

the favour of a pair of bellows, and a smalltooth-comb?". "Sirr!"—"I am a stranger in Limerick, Madam, come for the assizes; and as I wish to partake in all the amusements going forward, I perceive that combing the head is all the rage in this quarter!"

There was no doubt a comical expression. in Bowles's eye, for the lady made no other answer than the epithet "Spalpeen!" and quietly reaching her hand behind her to a mopstick in a corner, would no doubt have lent him much more than he desired, had he not anticipated this step by one of his own.

THE MAN WITH THE IRON MASK.

The man with the iron mask was a remarkable personage, who existed as a state prisoner in France during the latter part of the 17th century. As the circumstances of this person form a historical problem, which has occasioned much inquiry, and given rise