Stanley believed what she meant to convey; but as he felt fatigued himself, he confessed it, and led her to a seat, when she gaily explained to him that she had on one occasion danced "tree days effeery day, vid no daylight, no fatigue, no sleep," and he warmly applauded her spirit.

"And now, Isabelle," said he, taking advantage of a pause, "what is this highly important secret you are so anxious to communicate?" "Oh," said Isabelle, blushing deeply, and pretending to adjust Stanley's dress, "I cannot possible tell to you now: I am beesy." "But, my dear girl, you may as well tell me at once."

My dear girl!" echoed Isabelle, with an expression of pleasure. "Upon my word I beg pardon," said Stanley; "but really I am so accustomed—”

Accustom!" interrupted Isabelle, as she turned her blue eyes full upon him-" Accustom !-Oh, yes!" she continued, as her features relaxed, " you have leetel sistare-dear girl-I comprehend.” Well, then," said Stanley, "now, keep me no longer in suspense. What is it?"

"Noting a tall beefore souper! Indeed it vos not quite possible to tell to you beefore."

Madame Poupetier now approached, and, after making a variety of observations touching matters in general, but more particularly with reference to the perfect understanding which appeared to exist between Stanley and Isabelle, she expressed a highly laudable hope that they were happy, and left them again to themselves.

"Have you known Madame Poupetier long?" inquired Stanley. "No; not long. I vos not been in Engeland long."

"Your friends knew her, probably, before you arrived?"

Oh, no," said Isabelle, with an aspect of sadness. "My friends nevare vos know Madame Poupetier." And as she spoke the tears sprang into her eyes, which she tried, but in vain to conceal.

Stanley changed the subject in a moment; but before Isabelle could reassume her wonted gaiety supper was announced, to the entire satisfaction not only of the elderly gentlemen, but of the redfaced ladies, who hailed the announcement with manifest delight. They therefore at once slipped away, taking with them all who were not then engaged in the dance, save Stanley and Isabelle, who found pleasure in lingering until the conclusion of the quadrille, when they followed of course with the rest.

On entering the supper-room, Stanley found everything arranged in the most recherché style, and for the first time perceived that, while engaged with Isabelle, the number of gentlemen had greatly increased.

"Is that Monsieur Poupetier?" he inquired, alluding to a fine portly person who sat at the top of one of the tables.

Isabelle looked and smiled, and then replied, "Non. Dere nevare vos be Monsieur Poupetier. Madame Poupetier vos nevare be marry."

"Indeed!" said Stanley; "I was not aware of that."

Isabelle looked and smiled again.

The champagne soon began to go round very briskly, and the guests felt, in consequence, much less restrained. They conversed

with more spirit, and laughed with more freedom, and, indeed, there were several present who displayed no inconsiderable share of true wit. These, however, did not create the most laughter. The greatest amount of merriment was produced by two aged individuals, who had not a tooth between them, but who, nevertheless, exhibited the chief characteristics of buffoons to such perfection that Mirth burst the barrier of Pity to roar. Not, however, content with this pleasing result of the laudable developement of his genius, one of them actually kissed two nuns who sat beside him; and Stanley conceived, as they offered no resistance, but, on the contrary, felt rather flattered than not, that he was the father of those nuns, or their uncle, or their guardian at least, until Madame Poupetier, who saw the outrage committed, exclaimed, with appropriate solemnity, "My Lord!"

The expression of the noble individual's queer countenance on being thus solemnly called to order, became so excessively droll that it induced a simultaneous burst of laughter, which, being both loud and long-continued, threw his lordship into a state of perfect rapture, the powerful developement of which he managed by rolling remarkably in their sockets his two odd eyes, with which, in point of legitimate obliquity, nothing at all comparable in the annals of eyes either ancient or modern exists upon record. The only person who did not laugh at this highly-interesting exhibition was the noble lord's rival. To him the effect was wormwood. He became extremely jealous. He held it to be a monstrous monopoly, and tried to break it down; but, although he laboured hard to eclipse the noble lord, he eventually felt himself utterly extinguished.

It may here be remarked that champagne is a wine of which ladies in general are fond: it were useless, perhaps, to dive to any depth into the cause; but that they do love it dearly is a fact which experience has placed beyond the pale of dispute. Such being the case, then, it may, without any impropriety, be mentioned, that at this particular period of the evening that light and lively wine began to work its legitimate effects upon the elderly round-faced ladies by whom the festive board was adorned, and who entered at large into the general economy of the establishments over which they had respectively the honour to preside. This appeared to be deeply interesting to them, but not to Stanley: still his eyes might even then have been opened, had not Madame Poupetier with great adroitness suggested that the young ladies present were then at liberty to return to the ball-room, when, as this correct suggestion was acted upon generally, Stanley and Isabelle joined them at once.

Now, Isabelle," said Stanley, having led her to a seat, "what is this grand secret?"

Isabelle gazed at him intently for a moment, and then said, " Estil encore un secret?'

"Oui vraiement," replied Stanley; "mais parlez Anglais. Il m'est difficile il m'est difficile de vous faire comprendre en Français; en même temps j'admire beaucoup plus-beaucoup plus-j'admire beaucoup plus votre Anglais que votre Français."

"Vich vos be de same to me myself, but different. Still I sall try to pleasure you."

"Well, then," said Stanley. "Now what is it?"

Vy," said Isabelle, as she played with Stanley's chain, and ar

VOL. VII.

2 Q

ranged it in various devices upon his vest, "it is—I— it is veery terrible to me to tell to you. I cannot possible.”

"Why, you silly girl?"

Vell, you sall-you sall deviner

yes, you sall guess."
"Impossible! I cannot."

vot you call?- guess—yes,

"Cannot guess? Vot vill I do? You vill not be angry ? Please do not be angry?

"

Angry, my dear girl! Why should I be angry? I cannot be angry with you!"

Isabelle raised her eyes, which then sparkled with pleasure; but dropped them again as she said, "Oh, it is veery shocking for me! but it vill as vell bee done at last as at fost!" when, taking a deep inspiration, she added, "I lof you!" and buried her face in his bosom. "And this is the secret," thought Stanley. "Well! I suspected as much. Now how am I to act? I must not be serious with this poor girl. I must pass it off with levity, -treat it as a jest. Isabelle," said he playfully, "let me see your eyes."

Conceiving that his object was to test her sincerity, she looked at him firmly in an instant.

"And so you really love me?"

"

Oh, yes, indeed! I have veery dear great lof for you in my heart.”
Upon my honour I feel highly flattered."

Oh, no: tere is no flatterie in vérité. Indeed I vos not a tall flatter." "And, pray how long have I had the honour of your love?" "Evare, from ven I deed know you to see."

"Indeed! Well, that is strange. But, Isabelle, what is the character of your love?"

"Te character? I cannot tell. I nevare deed lof like tis lof beefore. Oh! it is happiness - yet it is not: it gives to me pleasure, and yet it does not: it is te supreme-it is-oh!-it is lof!

"Now, suppose, Isabelle, that I were married."

66

Marry! oh, no, no, no! you are not marry.”

But, if I were?"

"Vy, if you vere marry, it vill be veery terrible to me." "Of course in such a case you would love me no more?" "No more! Till evare and evare! I vill not help it. no, you are not marry a tall. I perceive by you smile you are not, vich is veery great felicity to me.'

But, no,

"Well, come," said Stanley, attempting to rise, "shall we dance the next set?

"Yes- yes," said Isabelle; "but

to me someting."

you have quite forget to tell

"Indeed! What have I forgotten?"

"You have quite entirely forget to say you lof me." "Well, that is indeed very wrong, is it not?" "But," said Isabelle after a pause, still!-You do not lof me."

"Love you? How can I resist? I can't but love so sweet a girl." But, do you lof me vid de veritable lof vich is lof vich is true? Ah! vy you hesitate? vy you not answer to me? -marry! Oh, tell to me if it is so! but do not-oh, do not be cruel to it is if it is not. Are you marry?"

say

"I will not deceive you," said Stanley :

"I am."

Isabelle dropped her head, and was silent. The tears flowed fast though unheeded by her, and she looked as if the answer of Stanley had been death to every hope she had cherished.

"Come, come," said he, "why are you so sad? Because I happen to be married? Why, I hope to see you married soon."

"Oh, nevare! You vill nevare see Isabelle marry: you vill nevare see Isabelle more!"

"Hark! what is that?" exclaimed Stanley, as at the moment he heard a loud scream, followed by cries which had a thrilling effect. "Remain here, my girl. Do not be alarmed. I will return to you immediately."

Isabelle pressed his hand, and he darted from the room.

Following the sound of the voices, which now became more and more loud, he soon entered the room in which supper had been laid, and which at that time presented a scene of a character the most lively and imposing. The tables were turned upside down; the chairs were broken; the pier-glass was starred; and the carpet was strewn with the fragments of bottles, and saturated with wine; and while those of the guests by whom the sport was enjoyed were pulling others back, and shouting, "Let them alone!" the noble individual who had produced so much mirth, and his rival, whom at supper he had totally eclipsed, were mounted upon the sideboard, engaged among the glasses in the performance of a musical pas de deux. Stanley at first could not get even a glance at the principal characters engaged in the scene; but having, by dint of great perseverance, broken through a kind of ring, he perceived two of the red-faced ladies devoting all their physical energies, with the view of getting as much satisfaction out of each other as possible, to the manifest delight of those by whom they were respectively backed. One of these ladies struck out like a man quite straight from the shoulder and fairly; but the other, though incomparably less scientific, did with her talons the greatest amount of execution. They were both in a state in which ladies ought never to wish to be, whether they do or do not love their lords; and being so, the highest object of each was to damage the countenance of the other as much as she comfortably could.

"Pray-pray, put an end to it,-pray!" exclaimed Madame Poupetier, with an expression of agony. "Oh, the reputation of my house!-the reputation of my house!"

Stanley, on being thus appealed to, at once interfered, but in vain. "I'll teach her to run down my girls!" shrieked the more scientific of the two, who at the moment aimed a left-handed blow at her opponent, whose cap, though adorned with pinks, lilies, and roses, and long ears of corn, was so frightened that it flew off her head. "I'll show her the difference! I keep them like ladies, and that's more than some people do," and she aimed another blow, which had so powerful an effect upon the face of her opponent, that that lady considered it expedient to close; when, apparently with malice aforethought, she plucked off in an instant her more scientific antagonist's coiffure, consisting not only of a violet velvet turban, with three birds of paradise stuck up in front, but of an elegant, richly-curled, highly-wrought peruke! Oh! to the delicate and strictly-private feelings of that lady this was terrible indeed,—and it may not be altogether incorrect to mention, that with her white bald head, and

her round red face, thus completely unadorned, she did not look so comfortable quite as she did before. Still, although she felt it deeply, while the other shrieked with laudable exultation, she flew at her boldly again, and caught hold of her hair, expecting evidently a similar result, which would have made her comparatively happy; but, albeit she tugged and tugged with becoming perseverance, she found it so excessively natural that she really began to deem herself conquered, inasmuch as she felt that she could not inflict upon the feelings of her opponent so deep a wound as that which her opponent had inflicted upon hers. So natural a fact is it that, while she cared but little about an exposure of her moral defects, over which she had control, she could not bear the exposition of those physical defects, over which she had no control whatever; and hence, notwithstanding the enthusiastic promptings of her satellites, who really gave her every encouragement to "go in and win," she snatched from the ground her degraded coiffure, and rushed from the room, amidst loud roars of laughter.

Stanley now began to feel convinced that some of the persons there assembled were not of the most respectable caste; but, without at all dwelling upon the importance which ought to have been attached to this conviction, he returned to the ball-room, with the view of rejoining Isabelle. He reached the couch on which he had left her she had vanished. He inquired of those around: they knew nothing of her departure. He requested the servants to search the house, and they did search; they searched every room: she was not to be found. He remembered the last words she had uttered; and became apprehensive of her having madly rushed to self-destruction. He wished that he had not been so candid, yet felt that he could not be blamed. He inquired of Madame Poupetier; he inquired of all whom he met; he could not obtain the slightest information. He felt that during the disgraceful confusion she must have escaped unperceived, and, being firmly convinced that she was lost, he changed his dress, and left the house, with her last words ringing in his ears, " You will never see Isabelle married: you will never see Isabelle more! "

CAPTAIN MORRIS.

A REVIEW.

WITH A PORTRAIT.

I.

HERE goes a review, such as Yellow and Blue
Its pages most glorious ne'er clapt in ;
And sure it were wrong, if in aught but a song
A notice we gave of THE Captain!

Hail, Morris the chief, prime bard of prime beef!
Other poets on feeding more airy

Their thin muses may starve-richer diet must carve
Our old Becf-Steak-Club Se-cre-tá-ry.