had placed himself opposite to an open window, where he might appear in all the plenitude of his beauty. The usher of the chambers throws open the doors, and announces Madame Victoire and Madame Adelaide. Madame Victoire, whose habitually calm countenance seldom endured the fatigue of any pointed expression, on perceiving the young Roman, appeared perfectly scared. She paused a moinent, seemed abont to speak; then, apparently unwilling to compromise her dignity, she recovered her composure, and passed on without noticing the confident and smiling salute of the good youth, who, thinking that she had slept ill, awaited Madame Adelaide, who was far more beloved than her sister. But she not only passed on, like Madame Victoire, but darted on him an indignant glance which distressed him. The Duchess de Narbonne, who followed, fixed on Goubaud a piercing look, which seemed to say, 'What! have you such audacity?'

The young artist mentally reviewed every act of his that could possibly have given offence, and finally comforted him. self with the reflection that the displeasure of his patroness was undeserved. The return from mass was equally solemn, and the whole establishment, modelling their conduct after that of the princesses, seemed as cautiously to shun Goubaud, as if he had just imported the yellow fever from Cadiz. The young artist, who had a grateful and susceptible heart, retired to his study, and gave himself up to melancholy reflections, scarcely had he entered, when a messenger from Madame de Narbonne brought him a very brief and precise order to quit Caserte that very day. His patience now deserted him, and anger for a moment superseded grief; but his eyes fell on the magnificent view which unfolded before him all the magic images of beauty, and all surrounding a dwelling in which, welcomed as a friend, as a beloved child, he had passed the happiest days of his life! I should be mad,' thought he, 'to retire without enquiring the cause of my disgrace;' and he immediately requested a parting audience with Madame de Narbonne, who granted it on the instant; but as he entered, panting for breath, What!' cried she in a fury, and without giving him time to speak, what! you have had the boldness, the impudence, to present yourself before me in your odious cravat?' Gonbaud was confounded. My cravat, Madame la Duchesse!'-'Yes, Sir, your cravat. Is not exile a sufficient misfortune? Must Adelaide and Victoire of France, the daughters of Louis XV., in that very exile be persecuted, insulted even in the asylum the kindness of a relation has granted them,-with the sight of a tri coloured flag?'-Ah! Mon Dieu!' cried Goubaud;-and the immense corners of his cravat striking his eyes, he snatched it from his neck, and stood dismayed, as it really criminal; the cravat was as perfect a tri colour as the flag that now waves over the Chateau of the Tuileries. The poor youth held in his hands the accusing witness, and believed it had been placed there by some mischievous demou that had fascinated his eyes. Born and bred in Italy, and in retirement, he had never seen the tri. coloured flag, nor even thought of it, but as associated with the misfortunes of those kind and beneficent princesses, for whom he would have laid down his life. He had little diffi culty in explaining the innocence of his intentions to the good-natured duchess, who undertook to plead his cause with his benefactress. She soon returned from her benevolent mission, to relieve the anxious expectant by an assurance of free pardon! presenting him at the same time, from the royal ladies, a packet containing a dozen superb white cravats, and ordering, for the altar of the chapel, an Assumption of the Virgin, which the grateful artist commenced without the loss of an hour, and in a few days, his study was again visited by the princesses. to cement the pardon,' as Madame Adelaide expressed herself. This same Goubaud was afterwards cabinet painter to the Emperor Napoleon; and in 1813 was appointed painter of the Chamber of the King of Rome, and the Children of France; and he has recently finished a splendid picture of the captive Napoleon.

Kean in 1809.-It may not be unamusing to some of our readers to know how Kean was treated by critics before a London audiance had raised him to the highest rank in his profession. The following is an extract from the critique on the Lichfield theatricals, written by a correspondent of the Staffordshire Advertiser in the spring of 1809:-Mr. Kean, who has been figuring here as the principal tragic hero, is another instance of the blundering folly of misplaced actors, of which we see so many in country theatres. We do not recollect to have seen a man less gifted for a tragedian than this gentleman. Without energy, dignity, or the advantages of

voice, he drags through the heroic scene with a dull monotony, oppressive to himself, and doubly so to the audience. He appears to understand his author, but the effects of a clear conception are totally lost in the natural defects of his voice and person. This performer's genius, is, nevertheless of an elevated cast. He is a good Harlequin!"

Anecdote of Scribe.-Some years ago, when the different Tradesmen of Paris took a pride in the splendour of the painted signs they exhibited over their doors, Scribe entered the shop of a hosier, who gloried in the sign of "Les deux Babouins." Conceiving the man of busines was very inattentive, his customer, while paying for his purchases, politely asked to see the shop-keeper's partner. " Partner! Monsieur! I have no partner."—" Oh, I beg your pardon," answered the playright, looking up at the sign, " I thought there were two baboons at the head of your establishment!"

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-Qain played Cato very well, which I attribute to some constitutional resemblance between the two. He was generally "as cool," to use a vulgarism, as a cucumber." Some person whom he had offended met him one day in the street, and stopped him.-" Mr. Quin,” said he, “I—I—I under. stand you have been taking away my name?" "What have I said, Sir?" "You-you-you called me a scoundrel, Sir!” "Keep your name," replied Quin, and walked on.-Bernard's Retrospections of the Stage.

Pay of a Roman Actor -The daily pay of Roscius, the greatest actor of Rome, was somewhere about 501. sterling. His annual profit, according to Pliny, was 4,000l. but 5,000l. according to Cicero. Roscius was a generous, benevolent man, and a great contemner of money; for having amassed sufficient to satisfy his wishes by the exercise of his art, he for ten years bestowed his labours gratuitously upon the people, thus voluntarily sacrificing the sum of 50,000%.

Self-devotion and Treachery.-The following anecdote is related by Captain Kroff, who served in Spain, in a regiment of infantry of the guard of Jerome the ex-King of Westphalia. Fatigued and exhausted by forced marches, the regiment to which Captain Kroff belonged, arrived before the monastery of Figueras, in Spain. The Colonel of the regiment, a Frenchman, sent an officer to demand of the Prior the necessary refreshments for the men, as well as for the staff, consisting of about twenty officers. The Prior, with some of the monks, came out to meet the General, assuring him that the inhabitants of Figueras would provide for the soldiers, but that he himself would provide a frugal meal for the staff. The Prior's offer was accepted; Captain Kroff received some commissions for the regiment, and about an hour afterwards it was announced to the Prior that the dinner was served up in the refectory of the monastery. The General, who was aware that the French in Spain had reason to be on their guard in eating and drinking what was offered by the natives, invited the Prior to dine with them; he and two other monks accepted the invitation in snch a menner as to leave no doubt that he felt himself much flattered by it. After the officers had taken their seats, the Prior said grace, carved, ate of every dish first, and with his two brethren, who poured out the wine, drank plentifully with his guests. It was not till towards the end of the repast, that Captain Kroff returned, having been detained by the commission of the General, longer than he expected.

During that interval he had found an opportunity to take some refreshment, and only participated in the conversation of the company, hosts as well as guests, at the monastery. The General, in particular, expressed his satisfaction to the Prior, whose kind reception had surpassed all expectation. Suddenly however, the cheerfulness of the Prior was changed into profound seriousness: he rose from his seat, thanked the company for the honour they had done him, and concluded with asking if any of them had any affairs to settle in this world? adding with emphasis, "This, gentlemen, is the last meal you and I shall take on earth; in an hour we shall all be before the judgment seat of God!" Cold trembling horror seized the amazed guests; for the Prior and his two monks had poisoned the wine in which they had pledged the French officers; all the antidotes given by the French physicians were in vain : in less than an hour every man of them had ceased to live. There are few examples of self devotion more striking than the above; but although to die for country is noble, we cannot help turning with horror from that mistaken notion which disgraces patriotism, and is unworthy true courage, which, as in the present case, sacrifices the laws of hospitality to treachery, and returns murder for confidence.