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.. THE COURT.

ITHE ARTS, LITERATURE, &c.…

OUR MISCELLANY. --+-

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OUR MISCELLANY. --+- The Captain.- My wife and child they pray for me When the seas are white with foam; On the dreadful deep their forms I see, That are bowed for me at home, When the storm is loud, and above the cloud Glows like a fiery dome. I sometimes think that I can hear Their voices in the blast, And turn to see that vision, dear To me o'er all the past. 'Tis but the sail torn in the gale, And the storm-bird, white and ghast. Hark! how the thunder treads the air! Me thinks our doom is said; Yet life with those was wondrous fair; And cold are the ocean dead. What cheer, my men ? Shall we look again On the Downs, or Beachy Head ? My gallant hearts are true as steel, My ship is stout and strong; And not a thing from top to keel, Would play me false or wrong: But the cruel wave is shroud and grave To many a goodly throng. Must it be so ? Why, then, farewell; 0 for one parting kiss On those young lips that faintly spell A prayer for such as this! Methinks 'twould lift from the briny drift To the highest soul in bliss. Farewell, good crew and gallant ship; Yon wave shall wash us down. Death, thou art cold to the throat and lip, And blood is on thy crown. True eyes dear eyes! you star the skies What care I though I drown ? —The Quiver. National Patriotic Hymn.—The editor of the Morning Advertiser has received from the Ladies' Italian Committee the' following lines by Garibaldi, written in Italian, but a translation of which is given in that paper :— Ah! see from the grave rise our heroes departed— All Italy's', martyrs, the brave and true-hearted Each hand grasps the swoid, laurel decks each pale brow; They beckon us onward to Victory now Come on, then come on see our brave youths ad. vancing Our banners wave higher than ever before Oar muskets are ready, our sword- blades are glancing; Our hearts burn with lave to our own native shore. Away from our country, ye foreign oppressors Your last hour is striking—away, then, away Our voices be silent, our arms strong and ready; As onward we march, be our step firm and steady; Let union be ours, then no fear of the foe— Beyond the high Alps our intruders must go The Austrians no longer shall rule these bright re- gions E'en Rome sees the dawning of Freedom's fair day; The stranger and tyrant have claimed our allegiance— Alas that so long we have bent to their sway. Away from our country, ye foreign oppressors Your last hour is striking—away, then, away The Morning Advertiser further says that Garibaldi often amuses himself in his leisure hours, in his island home at Caprera, by writing short pieces of poetry. Perhaps.— Tea heads and twenty hearts! so that this me, Having more room and verge, and striking less The cage that galls us into coneciousness, Might drown the rings and ripples of to be In the smooth deep of being: plenary Round hours great days, as if two days should press Together, and their wine-press'd night accresce The next night to so dead a parody Of death as cures such living: of these ordain My years; of those large years grant me not seven, Nor seventy, no, nor only seventy sevens! And then, perhaps, I might stand well in even This rain of things down-rain, up-rain, side-rain; This rain from earth and ocean, air and heaven, And from the Heaven within the Heaven of Heavens. SYDNEY DOBELL. [The above appears in the Athenseum without a word of comment. It is not stated whether a trans- lation into English will be given in a future number. We may, however, look for it—Perhaps.] The Language of the Workshop.-It might surprise an English inquirer into nautical philology to learn that much of the language of shipboard was very good Dutch, Low German, and even French. It might shook his national pride to find that the terse phrase- ology over which he had been accustomed to chuckle, I as so thoroughly English, was but the echo of the lan- guage of the Havre de Grace, the Vorsetzen at Ham- burg, or was borrowed from the dictionary (if he had j one) of Van Tromp. Yet this is the simple truth; ) and the same common parentage m<y be traced in much of the ordinary language of the goldsmith's workshop. Although, like water-worn pebbles, the techuical words there in use are now smooth enough English, if we trace their original structure we shall find that in grain they are often German or French.- The Working Man. Confidence.—As he said it, the thought again crossed his mind. What if he should make his wife a confidante of his early life! For a moment he was again tempted to do it. Bat he drove the thought away. His wife had ever been an affectionate wife to him, and bad he any right, nay, was there not some- thing cowardly in even wishing to share his burden with one who could only be distressed by its recital ? No. The past must be a sealed book for ever; and though in years to come he and his wife might draw nearer and nearer together as time should leave the grey shadow fainter and fainter in the distance, still there must ever lie in his boscm a secret hidden from her who ought, if marriages are made in heaven, to be the sharer of his inmost thoughts. For in the entire- ness of such confidence alone is the holiness and happiness of marriage.-Adriana. A Broker's Man.—A strange fact—stranger than anything in fiction-came to my knowledge lately, with regard to a poor family who were visited by the broker's man. When the broker's man came in, the tenant of the house, driven to desperation by his mis- fortunes, rushed upon him with ai knife to kill him. H For God's sake, don't kill me," cried the broker's man. "I am a poor unfortunate wretch like yourself. While I come to take possession of your things, there is a man in possession of mine." Then you oaght to have some feeling for me," said the other. "God knows I have," said the broker's man, but I have had nothing to do for a long time, and I was starving when I was offered this job. I never did such cursed work before, and I will starve to death before I do it again." The visit of the amateur broker's man was an angel's visit to that poor family. He had received 5s. in advance for what he called his cursed work," and he made a blessed use of it, by giving the starving j family a meal. When a benevolent clergyman entered the house to render some assistance to the distressed family, he found the children clinging to the broker's man's neck, kissing him, and calling him uncle." -All the Year Bound. Keepsakes. But why is it, will you tell me who know everything, that gentlemen always ask for a rose or a violet, or a flower of some sort, as a keepsake ? Nothing so perishable. Would not a thimble or a slipper be better? I suppose you have us all in what you used to call a hortus siccus, brown roses, and yellow violets, and venerable polyanthuses, thoroughly dried up and stiff as chips, and new and then with a sort of triumph review your prisoners, and please yourselves with these awful images of old maidhood. How can we tell what witchcrafts go on over our withering types and emblems. Give me back my violet and you shall have a hair-pin instead." Many thanks; I'll keep my violet however. It may grow dry and brown to other eyes, to mine it will never change. Just because it is an enchanted violet, and there is a spell upon my eyes as often as I look on it, and the glow and fragrance will never pass away." "Very good song, and very well sung! only I suspect that's the usual speech, and you ask for the violet for an opportunity of making it."—Dublin University Magazine. Fouche and Louis XVIII.-A. Paris corre- spondent has found the following story in a recently- published French book: After the restoration, in 1814, among the titled followers of Napoleon who were the most anxious to obtain employment at the court of Louis XVIII., none showed more servility and assiduity to accomplish his purpose than Fouche, Duo d'Atranto. He at last had a private interview with the king, when he expressed his desire to dedicate his life to his service. Louis replied, You have occupied under Bonaparte a situation of great trust, which must have given you opportunities of knowing every- thing that passed, and of gaining an insight into the characters of men in public life which could not easily occur to others. Were I to decide on attach- ing you to my person, I should previously expect that you would frankly inform me what were the measures and who were the men that you em. ployed in those days to obtain your information. I do not allude to my stay at Verona, or at Mittau. I was then surrounded by numerous adherents but at Hartwell, for instance—were you then well acquainted with what passed under my roof?" Yes, sir, every day your majesty's movements were made known to me." "Eh! what? Surrounded as I was by trusted friends, who could have betrayed me-who could thus have abused my confidence! I insist on your naming him." Sir, you urge me to say what must wound your majesty's heart." "Speak, sir; kings are but too subject to be deceived." "If you command it, sir, I must onewer that I was in correspondence with the Duo d'Aumont." What! De Pienne, who pos- sessed my entire confidence? I must acknowledge," added the King, with a malicious smile, he was very poor. He had many expenses, and living is very dear in England. Well, then, M. Fouohe, it was I that dictated to him those letters which you received every week, and I gave up to him 12,000f. out of the 48,000f. which you so -regularly remitted to obtain an exact account of all that was passing in my family."

A JIANIAC IN THE Alo(JNF'ziIiN"S.

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--|EXTRACTS FROM "PUNCH" &…

Chancery-lane Dialogue.

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I POLITICAL GOSSIP.

OPINIONS OF THE PRESSe --

-------THE CLOSING OF THE…

THE OLD LADY AND HER BANK-BOOK.