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fiendish fury; his eyes, full of horrible lustre, glanced from Carl to the precipice, and from the precipice to Carl.

“Tell me !--what?" again gasped the student, half dead with fright, striving in vain to recede from the edge of the terrace. The hand with which the old man clasped Carl's wrist quivered with fierce emotion.

“ Tell me,” once more murmured Carl-" what did she

say

?" “Baa !” roared his tormentor, at the same time letting go Carl's wrist, and, slipping over the edge of the terrace, he was out of sight in an instant-leaving Carl Koëcker BROAD AWAKE, and in darkness, for he had broken his lamp, and overthrown both chair and table. His fire had gone out to the last cinder, and a ray or two of misty twilight, struggling through the crevices of the window shutters, served to show him how long he had been DREAMING.

He groped his way to bed, shivering with cold, and execrating the opera he had recently witnessed, whose ill-assorted recollections, with other passing fancies, had been moulded into so singular and distressing a dream.

END OF THE BRACELETS.

الا

B L U CHER; ;

OR,

THE ADVENTURES

OF

A NEWFOUNDLAND DO G.

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

/

I shall not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau,
f dogs write histories, or no.

it so happened, that, once upon a time, a Newfoundland dog was pleased to take it into his head to run away from his master, where he had ever been kept like a gentleman, (according to his own confession,) and come up to London, to seek after adventures. I saw him in his glory. He was a noble fellow : there was something imperial in the wagging of his bushy tail; and his eyes, on particular occasions, assumed the fire of a lion's. He was well combed and washed twice a week; and, on the whole, behaved as well as could be expected under the operations. In fact, he was the best-bred dog that ever I saw; and, by a particular habit he had got, (which, by-the-way, I would heartily recommend to all his canine relations,) of jumping and frisking about the mat, so as to clean his feet weil before he entered a room, he won the especial favour of my lady, who christened him by the name of “Blueher.” He had large and airy kennel, (built against the snug side of the yellow-walled stable,) painted of a decent slate colour, which was carefully replenished with straw twice a day. Nay, on one side there was a kind of trough to hold his water, and on the other a platter to contain his victuals.

Now, although he lived in such a handsome manner, he was not satisfied. The fact is, that a gentleman, (Sir Leonard Bullwhistle,),on a visit to his master, brought a fat, pursy, wheezing animal in his carriage, which was eventually the ruin of Blucher. Our friend eyed the stranger askance at first, and drew himself up with great dignity, wagging his tail in a most lofty manner. But “familiarity begets contempt.” Prowzer, (the stranger's name,) by sundry humble acts, such as fetching Blucher a bone-leaving the trough when he came to drink-sleeping next the outside, (for they boarded and lodged together,) and various other unspeakable attentions, quite won upon the generous heart of the noble animal. I am very much inclined to think, from all accounts I have been able to obtain, that Blucher's knight-errantry was first engendered in sundry conversations with his new friend; for they were frequently remarked to run away together to a wood at some distance, and there, under the shadow of a beech tree, doubtless were arranged all the plans of Blucher's elopement. The innovations arising from his intercourse with his town-bred friend, first manifested themselves in a certain angry impatience on washing and combing day; and then he turned up his nose at the wholesome food brought him one morning by the butler. The magnificent description of Prowzer had clean turned his head. His ambition was fired. “It's no use-I must see life; I was never born to be cooped up in this narrow box all my days," were the reflections with which he suddenly started from his kennel, one bright, crisp, cold, frosty March morning, ran swiftly down the park, bounded nimbly over the gate, and took the high road to London. His journal must tell his adventures.

CHAPTER I.

Showing that Dogs have got Souls as well as Men, and that they

know what is best for theinselves.

MARCH'the 13th, 1824. This morning I escaped from Ashburd Park. I don't regret it, not I. I'll show myself a dog of spirit. I ran very quickly several miles, when the thought struck me that I should have , first eaten my breakfast. But it cannot be helped now. I'm not going to sneak back, and be laughed at and ridiculed by my dear friend Prowzer. I'll show him that country dogs have resolution as well as your sleek town ones. But that is no reason why I should not get my bellyful of victuals as soon as convenient. Ha! there's a public house! will they take pity on me ? l'll tell them I've got a soul, and a body too, as well as they, and that I need support for both; but will only trouble them for the latter at present.

I have been to the Pig and Whistle Inn, as it is called, There was an Irish labourer there, sitting in the taproom, eating bread and cheese and onions, and drinking porter. So I walked in, and stood opposite to him, and looked pathetically at what he held in his right hand; I wagged my tail; I whined. He understood me. “ Arrah, my honey! but the dare cratur seems hungry !my jewel! and won't I give you some praties ! to be sure I will !” With that the kind-hearted fellow gave me a plateful, which he emptied from a coarse canvass bag, I ate a bellyful, though it was nothing to be compared with what I got at home. But what of that? as my friend Prowe zer says, I am an independent dog now; I am free to buffet with the world as I best may. I moistened my breakfast with some- -(I am sorry to say it)—with some ditch water! Faugh! As I heard the landlord say that the London coach went by at twelve o'clock,

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