picadors, on horses covered with yellow leather and iron, with long thick lances, ending in a sharp iron point about three inches long, and clothed in blue jackets, bedizened with gold, and hats ornamented with dark brown ribbons and flowers. The whole quadrilla, in the national Andalusian costume, glittering with gold and silver, presenting a chivalrous appearance.

(Innumerable vivas).

The reserve picador rides off. The two others start forward in full career to the wooden fence at the left hand, near the bull entrance door. The ban. derilleros stand behind them; then the capistos; and, still further back, the matadors. The assistants all retire into the space between the circus and the spectators.

Deep silence. The hearts of those who are unused to such scenes beating audibly.

In the box belonging to the Hospital enter a priest with the sacrament, to be administered to any of the wounded; beside him several surgeons, bearers, and servants.

Three notes of a trumpet. bull door thrown open.

The

The bull Tormento, black as night, and bearing prodigious horns, rushes madly in, and dashes at the picador Sevilla. He wheels his horse to one side, saves it from the horn, and pierces the bull's neck, without moving in his saddle. The bull stands for a moment on his hind legs, beat back by the force of Sevilla's thrust, and hurries forward to the middle of the ring where it looks round, bleeding and amazed.

(Prodigious thunders of applause.) All." Bien! bien!-bravo Sevilla! Bien ! viva!"

The picadors change places. The capistos irritate the bull with their flags, which he attacks, foaming with rage. He rushes on the men. They leap over the fence,

(Great laughter).

A Voice. "Bien, golondrinos !” (good, swallows!)

All the ladies scream. Tormento has upset Rodriguez and his horse. The horse dies. Rodriguez lies pale as death, half supported against the paling. The bull rushes towards him. A capisto succeeds in attracting its attack to himself.

(Hooting and hisses).

Mal hecho, Rodriguez!(ill done) — chi! chi !”

Other voices. "Silencio, es muerto!" (He is dead).

Snobs. "Dead!"

Ladies. "Ai! ai! señor!"
(Screams again).

Tormento has caught a capisto on his horn, and tosses him high in air. All. "Mire! mire! mire!" (see! see! see!)

The ladies. Dios!"

Labradors.

"Ai! señor! Ai!

"Muerto, carajo !

bueno el toro!-(well done, bull)Bien ! bien !"

Rodriguez and the capisto are carried out. The bull rushes at Sevilla, who pierces him again, and parries him beautifully.

(Tremendous applause).

All. "Bravo, picador! Bien, Sevilla!"

The labradors (stamping and growling). "El picador de la reserva!-(the picador in reserve). “El picador de la reserva!"

Rodriguez, who had been thought killed, rides into the ring on another horse. He is still pale.

All. "Bravo, Rodriguez! Bien!" Others." Where is the capisto ?" An attendant. "Muerto." The ladies and strangers scream again.

Tormento has the horse of Rodriguez on his horns. Rodriguez keeps the saddle. The horse falls over-he saves himself. The bull runs at him fiercelythe capistos get in its way-Rodriguez pulls the horse up again, its entrails hanging out nearly a yard-he spurs it as it limps on, the blood falling in

streams.

aside, letting him pass under their arms, and planting their gaudily ornamented banderillos in his neck.

The bull is maddened. He springs all fours from the ground. Clouds of dust mingled with the smoke of blood. (Great triumph.)

"Bien hecho! Hup! hup!-bravo! viva! viva!—hup! hup!"

The bull has now eight darts sticking in his neck. He is furious, rushes after a capisto, and leaps over the sixfoot-high paling in pursuit.

Voices. "Save yourself."
Other voices. "Stay where you

are."

Montes, followed by the foot-quadrilla, stands in front of the bull, which stares at him, roaring. Tormento

attacks the red cloth of the matador. Montes slips nimbly aside-this is repeated amidst cries of hup! hup! six times.

(A sudden earthquake of approbation).

At one blow, without blood, Montes kills the bull, and sticks the espada up to the hilt in his neck. Tormento falls on his knees struggling to the last, a dying hero.

(Acclamations). "Muerto! Muer

to!"

VOL, XLV. NO. CCLXXXIII,

Garlands, flowers, and copies of verses, shower down on the illustrious matador, whilst the dead bull is dragged at full gallop from the ring by four mules hung round with bells. The quadrilla resumes its former position. The dead horses are dragged out by the empleados. Trumpets are sounded. The door flies open, and the second bull appears. With some few differences, six bulls are thus introduced, one after the other. No other accident occurs, and few horses are wounded. The first and last bull are generally the best; and I now lift the curtain once more at the closing

Some sailors. "We saw him driven in. He'll do wonders."

Voices. "Orgeata!-agua!"

A voice. "Tormento was their best." Another. "Es buona el Sarco. You shall see ; but 'twill soon be dark. Many citizens and women. "Mala hora" (too late).

Trumpet sounds three times.

El Sarco, a splendid black and white Andalusian, rushes in, looks round, and walks solemnly into the middle.

(Howlings). "O, O, Vaga la cabra!-(Off! she-goat!)-O, Vaga! chi! chi! si!"

(Whistling and hissing).

(Uproarious cries). “O, O, la cabra! O, la vaca !-la vaca de la boda!-(Wedding cow)!-Silencio!" The picadors change places. The bull trots towards them; and turns tail.

(Hootings). "Maldita sea la vaca! O, O, la cabra!"

El Sarco remains in the middle. Sevilla rides at him.

Many voices. "Bravo, Sevilla!" Others. "Mos adelante !-(more forward!)-mos adelante, carajo." Voices. "What sort of Sevilla is this?"

Others. "Not the old one-mos adelante!"-(N.B. The further a picador follows a bull into the ring, the more dangerous).

"Mos adelante, Sevilla !"
20

Sevilla thinks he has done all required of him by the laws of the amphitheatre, and rides back, retiring his lance. The former favourite is now in great disgrace. Hissing, rattling, whistling, and all manner of insulting noises.

(Huge disturbance).

Voices. "Que es esto Sevilla? Vaga Vaga, fantastico! O el embustero! (the deceiver!)-O el maulon!

(the false rascal!)—Adelante, punnatero-O! O!" (Rattles, catcalls, stamping, whistling.) "Adelante, demonio! Asi no se gano el dinero! (deserves no money). O el pejepolo(the stockfish!)-Vaga, vaga! Punnatero de Sevilla!" This lasts some time. Sevilla's Andalusian pride is roused fearfully. He shakes his head, and swings the lance in a rage; and casts scornful glances even up to the ladies, who pity him. He rides again against El Sarco, who is still quiet.

Many voices. "Bien, Sevilla-mos adelante! Hombre! bien, hombre !"

He rides further forward. The bull retreats, shakes itself, and stamps. Sevilla drives him from the middle of the place, and holds the lance-point under his nose-(the most daring thing that can be done). (Immense applause).

Rodriguez, springing so high, that the horn wounds the horseman's side. The picador falls. (Shouts).

Voices. "Ah, ah, mire! Heaqui!” The loose horse gallops round. El Sarco tosses him, ripping open his bowels, so that they trail on the ground.

Snobs. "Ah! ah! Buena el toro! Ah! ah!"

It gets rapidly dark. The danger of the quadrilla increases. Smoke and dust invelope the ring.

Labradors. "El picador de la reserva! Ah, ah!”

Rodriguez is carried off with great difficulty. Sevilla lies under his horse, protected with all their powers by the capistos. The picador de la reserva, Jose Fabré, rides in.

Voices. "Buenos tardes, señor"(good evening, sir).

The bull rushes at him, and overthrows man and horse.

(Immeasurable acclamations). "Bien! bien !-bravo Sarco-bien ! bien !"

Three horses are now lying dead. Fabré is stunned, and is led off. Sevilla is there alone; and the bull has not yet received a scratch. It rushes madly at the dead horses. An ama

(The ladies scream).

The labradors.

carajo!"

"Look! look!

El Sarco gets under the horse in a moment, and tosses it and its rider in the air, dashing them down, so that the horse falls dead upon Sevilla. The capistos try to attract the bull, but it remains quietly walking beside the fence, and looking at the spectators. (Confused exclamations).

Some cry, "Viva Sevilla!" others blame the phlegmatic El Sarco. Labradors. "Fuego! fuego! fire! fire!" (to rouse El Sarco).

(Confusion for some time).

A man is passed from bench to bench, and kicked down stairs. Up. roar. The bull stands unmoved. The banderilleros set crackers and squibs round his neck. Amidst the explosion he stands inveloped in smoke and dust from being calm and phlegmatic, he becomes wild, and dashes at

volunteers to attack the bull, amidst universal applause-a strong coarse fellow, that has been for some time with difficulty kept back. Sevilla plants a stab at enormous risk. (Vivas).

The amateur appears on horseback, dressed in Fabre's jacket and cap. El Sarco runs at him, and tosses man and horse.

(Vivas and laughter).

With his pride very much lowered, the champion sneaks off. Sevilla's horse falls, after another rush.

(Unbounded applause).

It is now nearly dark. The matador Montes attacks the indomitable Sarco, who has now slaughtered five horses, and disabled two picadores. After five minutes admirable play, he succeeds in planting the death-stroke, and, amidst tumultuous applauses,

exeunt omnes.

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

Ir is an interesting fact, and one which belongs exclusively to this age, that there is an universal taste for Biography"

-"Secret Memoirs". "Private Correspondence"-" Reminiscences"-" Recollections," and all other devices by which it is possible to peep into the lives or characters of departed greatness or littleness. No wonder, then, that when an usurper dies, who has raised himself to a throne, and deluged a continent in gore, a thousand pens should be dip ped in ink, to unfold the designs, and trace the rise and progress, the decline and fall, of such a man. But a conqueror is not the only theme on which a goose-quill deigns to perform its part: fiddlers and singers, actors and dancers, demagogues and pickpockets, in short, any body who will but be kind enough to die, is sure to be immortalized, if a Homer can be found to portray his Achilles. This is the day for people to talk, and vapour, and fight, and strut, and puff themselves into notice, for each will find his admirers. Mr Owen of Lanark, M. Papineau of Canada, Mr Morison and his pills-all become celebrated when alive-how doubly valuable when dead! As they each leave the world, some panegyrist will be found to laud their merits their rebellion, their physic-in large quarto volumes, embellished according to the best principles of their art.

How improving is the study of biography for the formation of rising talent, which may there see, as in a glass, the ways and means by which to steer its course through this strange world. But notwithstanding the "Lives" which are always pouring from the press, none have the direct object in view with which we pur. pose to enlighten the universe; we, having the privilege of being amongst the initiated, can discover under all the dross the real gem, therefore we understand how Napoleon arose to greatness, Mahomet to be a prophet, the popes of Rome infallible. Histories have been, and will again be, written of those extraordinary individuals, but not on the plan we propose. We have thought it high time the ho

nour of our family should be made manifest, and, in consequence of this resolve, have for many years been diligently employed in the composi tion of a standard work-namely, a comprehensive Universal History of the splendid, ancient, and illustrious House to which we have the honour to belong. The more we study and write upon the subject, the more we find left unwritten. Since the period of the French Revolution our task has become that of hourly toil, for the plot has thickened, and the actors have become more numerous than in any other given epoch of time; but as our theme begins with the Creation, and goes through every empire and nation, it will not astonish the gentle reader to learn, that the proposed work cannot be contained in less than a thousand volumes; and even then, how small a part will have been told!

But, when we announce that the old, potent, magnificent family of Humbug is that to which our talents have been devoted, surprise will cease, as all must allow that a wiser, richer, or greater house never existed upon the earth. In this prefatory sketch of our plan, we can but briefly allude to even the most imposing names amongst our kindred, who are numerous as the stars of heaven; and many individuals who (had we time and space) would have been noticed in our pages, can now only be mentioned in the list of worthies in our last volume, which will be a sort of index as to the collateral branches of a genealogical tree which overshadows the known world. In taking a bird's-eye view of our subject, the difficulty seems to be compression; and, as we omit all who have not figured pre-eminently in their own sphere of action, our accounts are more interesting than may be imagined.

As our design is to trace the rise, progress, and dominion of the Humbugs, it becomes us to follow the example of all biographers, and commence with the first individual on record of whom we have any positive information. What took place before the time which we call the Crea

tion, we do not profess to know, as not even the oldest Welsh MSS. have any higher data, nor any Chinese documents which we have consulted have any thing satisfactory as regards talking, thinking, writing creatures. We are often gratified by the discoveries of geologists respecting the earliest eras of this globe, and more especially of the earth's existence for millions of ages; and if they do not all quite agree, and the theory advanced in one year is overturned by that of the next, yet by and bye we expect they will arrange something amongst themselves, and in the meanwhile we shake hands with most of them, as part and parcel of our family circle, although we believe many of them are not at all aware of our affinity. In an antique volume, which gives intimation of circumstances which happened in the year one, we find authentic testimony of the first appearance of our great ancestor on this scene of things, together with oblique hints as to his unrivalled talents. The book to which we refer is in the Hebrew tongue; but as its contents are not in unison with the principles or practice of our great and regal house, we merely notice it, as an early register of events from which we may gather our facts. It is there stated, that soon after Adam and Eve were placed in Paradise, a sublime personage introduced himself to the latter, and, by his guile and flattery, induced her to transgress a law which had been given. All this may be found elsewhere, as we allude to the occurrence purely for the purpose of showing from what source is derived that principle which has pervaded every member of the family since that time. The august individual of whom we now speak, is, in the first instance, known by the appellation of "the devil." In the original, this is a term of high distinction, but from some change in the meaning of words, it has since become one of reproach; nevertheless he has been deified and worshipped by many titles and names equally honourable,; and although in Europe he is not treated with the outward esteem, which he has a right to expect from the devoted children who flourish under his own immediate auspices in those flourishing states, yet few dare deny their parent, and much credit they do him!

The pictures by which he is represented are too gross and frightful to be more than mentioned by the grave historian, and may be considered as the rude efforts of unenlightened ages. It is as cruel as it is unjust to represent him with hoofs and tail, as if he were Mr O'Connell himself, or the model of Lord Monboddo's theory upon that long subject; but for those who wish "the devil to have his due," we would request them to look into Lavater's works, where they will find all that could be desired, in a splendid head, in which is set forth to the best advantage every distinguishing family feature, such as envy, malice, hatred, subltety, &c., &c.; all these words we know have strangely different meanings in an English dictionary, to those in which we of this exalted race apply them; but were we to have gone on, in what many well-intentioned but stupid people call the ways of truth, uprightness, integrity, and so forth, we should not have made the figure in the world we ever have absolutely we should not have had even a beginning.

In the first volumes of the work will be found a lengthy philological essay upon the derivation of the ancient cognomen Humbug, which will be traced through the Saxon, Teutonic, Syriac, Sanscrit, &c., to the Hebrew language, which is proved by the best Cambrian authorities to be that spoken in Eden.

The Diversions of Purley will be thought a dull book when compared with our learned disquisition. There is no other noble name which has been transmuted into so many useful parts of speech, or which has become idiomatic in the English tongue. A Duke of Wellington has given his name to a pair of boots, an Earl of Sandwich to a Vauxhall slice of beef or ham placed between two similar portions of bread and butter; a Lord Stanhope has had the honour to name a gig; a Mr Macintosh has the profit of selling every body an upper-coat designated by his appellative-but these are poor distinctions. Look at the word humbug

there is at once the noun; to humbug is become a perfect verb, regular, irregular, and compound; humbugging an excellent participle; humbug! & positive interjection. Moreover, there is a "sweet confectionary plum," which, in our youthful days, we remember by the melting name of humbug.