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nace, seven times heated, to fall in love with a picture, a piece of canvas, daubed over with paint and oil-a thing that any school-boy might spoil with his inkstand! It was like a noble ship, which, having crossed the ocean, through storm and tempest, and having braved a thousand dangers of the sea, should be wrecked within sight of her intended haven, and upon an insignificant shoal, which had not been considered of sufficient importance even to be avoided.

When, the next morning, I dropped in upon my friend, I found him still raving about the portrait. I remonstrated, I attempted to reason with him. Alas, how little had reason to do either with his malady or his disposition! I reminded him of the many illustrious men who had been proud to enrole their names on the undying record of celibacy-St. Paul, Newton, aud a hundred other names of authority. Swift, too, I named, who, although he married, was ashamed to confess it. It was all in vain. I tried ridicule, but he was unmoved. I told him of the certainty with which matrimony was followed by family quarrels, and petticoat government. It was vain, and of non effect. I told him that poor Thompson had not dared to stay out after eleven, since he had been married; that Mr. Smith, by his own confession, had received more than a dozen curtain lectures; and the honey moon was not yet over. Heaven preserve the poor fellow when he comes to that of gall and wormwood! I told him that Brown had filed a bill of divorce; that Mrs. Johnson had eloped with her coachman; that Mrs. Williams had named her thirteenth son Timothy. All was unavailing. Fletcher was crazy,-more: he was in love,-a thousand times worse, for there are plenty of lunatic asylums; butalack for the boasted philanthropy of the age, who ever heard of a Love Asylum? How much time, and how much money, have been devoted to the ameliorating the condition of those who are bereft of reason; and yet nothing has ever been done for the tender passion, as if a man's brains were of more importance than his heart. Who knows but an effect highly beneficial to those unfortunate beings might not be wrought by means of solitary confinement, with low diet and moral instruction? It is wonderful, that the subject has not engaged the attention of those numerous societies formed by the gentler sex, for the purpose of advancing every possible good which exists, or which does not exist; and for removing every possible evil with which any portion of the world, savage or civilized,-heard of or unheard of,-is, or ever will be, afflicted.

I have digressed. Had almost any other calamity befallen my friend, there could have been some remedy. Had he broken a limb, it might have been mended.

A broken bone will knit together in nine days. Had he cracked his skull, it might have been "fixed" by trepaning. But Fletcher was in that "peculiar situ ation" for which there was no present remedy. He was out of humanity's reach."

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But there was one consolation. He was entranced only with a portrait. This was far different from falling in love with a little witch of flesh and blood. The portrait could not talk. There was a difference, surely. It couldn't take his arm of a moonlight evening, and walk out of every body's hearing. It could not receive long letters, and write longer answers. a word, it could "neither marry, nor be given in

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Why, in the name of common sense, are you going to Philadelphia ?" I asked.

"I have just heard that Miss Ellen Vincent is there. I know the street and the number. There can be no mistake."

"And so you intend to call upon her, with no other introduction than your own impudence? Fletcher, this is worse than I should have expected, even from you. I warn you now, as you regard your—" "Oh, you need not go on; I anticipate what you intend to say. I have heard it so often that I have it all by heart. Besides, I have made up my mind upon the subject. The boat leaves at three. We have no time to lose. Just send down your valise, and I will hear it all when we are on board, though it be for the hundredth time. I will, upon my word-I will, and I will no get asleep, as I did the last time, but will bear it with all possible patience. And then if you convince me, Moses, and you know you will-I will persuade the captain to put the steamer about, and we will return."

Finding that nothing could restrain him, I consented to bear him company, in the hope that my guardian care might prove, in some way, beneficial.

When we arrived at the " City of Squares," Fletcher's first visit was to a friend, who fortunately-or rather unfortunately-knew the lady of whom he was in such impatient quest. He promised an introduction, and my companion returned to his hotel, and passed the remainder of the day in dressing. It was the first time I had ever seen him neat-this love works sad changes in a man's character-and he was really a fine looking fellow. At the appointed time his friend arrived, and they departed together. I was reading a very interesting work on partial insanity and mental hallucination, when I was interrupted by Fletcher's well-known step. I heard him, as he ascended the stair, give orders to be awakened at six.

"What is the matter now ?" I inquired, as he entered. "Why, it's all up! Would you believe it? Miss Vincent went to Baltimore this very morning. But the boat starts at seven. You will go, of course ?"

Here was a quandary. I certainly was unwilling to leave the victim to the guidance of his own recklessness. He might be off in a tangent from Baltimore to Havre or Liverpool, or the North Pole. Still I could not but reflect upon the effect which such a circumstance might have on my character. I called to mind the fable of poor Tray-I remembered that a man's reputation often depends greatly upon his associates. And what would the club say what would every body say -when it should become known that Moses Morpheus was off on a wild-goose chase after a pretty girl? The consideration was overwhelming. I refused-Fletcher persisted-and finally my regard for him overcame the fear of danger to my own reputation. I consented to go, upon condition that we should return in three days

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at farthest. This I insisted upon, not with the remotest hope of its fulfilment, but merely as an excuse to my conscience. For the first time in his life, Fletcher was up before the sun. He was on board the boat before the captain, and a full hour before she started. A faint curl of smoke was rolling from the white pipes into the clear morning air. In due time we arrived. We had scarcely entered our hotel, when my companion. deserted me. In a few hours he returned with a most joyful countenanee.

"I have caught her at last," he exclaimed as he entered, "she is here." Here he compressed his lips with exultation. "She is soon to give a ball on her birth day. I have seen our friend Smith, and he has promised to obtain an invitation for each of us."

"Indeed!" said I: "you are kind. At whose request pray, did you solicit an invitation for me?" "Oh, I supposed you would like to go, of course. But n'importe: I will take no denial."

The next morning notes of invitation were sent to each of us.

"I wonder if the mail is in," said I.

"I wonder if three will be a large assembly," was the response.

"What a gloomy day," continued I, scratching my name in the vapor which I had breathed upon the window.

"What beautiful writing," observed my friend— "just look at it."

"Beautiful! I can't read it for the life of me. What word is that?"

"Nonsense! you have got the wrong paper. I mean the rose-colored. Do you suppose a lady writes invitations on fools-cap?"

My friend had become learned in the " manners and customs" of the ladies.

"You have improved wonderfully," said I " since last summer. When your sister sent to you for a pair of gloves, you purchased for her, you may remember. a pair of buckskins, large enough for any two-fisted stage-driver in the city.

"Well, I will teach you all that I have learned. Shall we commence our first lesson? You have endeavored to invest me with prudence and discretion, many a time. I will now act the tutor. Heaven grant me better succes."

"I am obliged, certainly-but as your new science will be of little practical utility, you will excuse me." "Well, do as you will; all I can hope, is, that you may, on some happy day, fall in love yourself."

You could hardly have wished me a more severe punishment. But when I do become enamoured, it shall not be with a portrait. I think I can say that."

"And I hope to convince you, to-morrow evening, that I, too, can love something besides a portrait. You remember when in the gallery, you termed Miss Vincent some pretty milliner or dashing servant girl.' I hope you are now convinced of my superior taste in such matters."

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dazzling with the loveliness of nature. Nothing was wanting in luxury or in elegance. Fletcher hastened on, until he reached the room where our hostess was standing. A small circle was in the middle, and several of the guests advanced to it. After a few minutes they retired. The lady of the house was manifestly

there."

"Where is she?" asked Fletcher, eagerly.

"That lady in the very centre of the circle," answered our friend; "she with the cap."

"She dresses plainly, however, considering the oecasion. What a little fairy hand, and how nicely that white glove is fitted to it. I wish she would turn this way."

The lady did turn. My wonder-stricken companion danced about, as if he had been stung by a Tarantula, The blood rushed to his face. He muttered an unintel ligible exclamation, and hastened from the room as speedily as the dense crowd would permit. He seized the first hat he encountered, and in a few minutes was at his hotel.

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"Fifty-seven!"

I did not laugh. I did not shout. I rejoiced; but it was with no common joy. I felt assured that after this folly, Fletcher would become a sound old bachelor -a faithful member of our club-and a useful one of society. When I entered his apartment, he was busily engaged in packing his trunk. How chap-fallen! I addressed to him words of consolation. I flattered my self, that at that favourable epoch, remarks of due solemnity, upon matrimony and celibacy matters, would sink deeply into his heart, and be productive of beneficial consequences.

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O'ER the far mountain peak on high First shines the morning's ray: And latest, from the crimsoned sky The beams of parting day.

Yet there, to greet the partial light, Nor flowers, nor verdure bloom; But barren all-though coldly brightAnd cheerless as the tomb.

While in the modest vale's recess,

Where sunlight scarce descends Fresh flowerets spring the beam to bless, And grateful foliage bends.

Thus hearts that bask in fortune's smile,
Undimmed by clouds of care,
Feel not the joys their hours beguile,
Which humbler bosoms share.

BAYADERES, OR DEVADASI OF HINDOO.

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SINCE the arrival of those interesting strangers, the idolatrous children of Hindostan, to the more lightened shores of Old England, no other subject seems to have engrossed the Public mind. The periodicals of the day have all teemed with illustrative descriptions of the divine artistes. There are five females and three males forming a complete Indian ballet. The females dance to the sound of the instruments played by the men. Among the latter is the old Ramalingon, a Brahmin of the high caste, who plays the cymbals; the two others, named Savarana and Devanayagon, are young men, the first playing a cylindrical drum, and the other a kind of bamboo pipe, which produces the most melancholy sounds. These musicians are decorated with enormous ear-rings, and wear a sort of turban. The middle of their forehead is tattooed with a bright yellow; their body, arms, and feet, are naked, their principal dress being silk pantaloons, reaching to

the ankle.

The eldest of the females is named Tille Amal (Amal, signifying lady). She may be about thirty years of age,

but the ardent sun of India has given her the appearance of being much older.

The second, Amany-Mal, is a charming girl of eighteen, whose dark olive complexion harmonises agreably with her large black eyes, sparkling with the most penetrating expression. Her nose is aqualine, and her mouth beautifully defined. Her teeth, which are slightly stained, are well shaped and regular. Her hair is black and polished; it is parted at the crown of the head, and falls on either side like the expanded wings of a raven. Her figure is full of grace and flexibility, aud breathes all that luxurious softness which is so attractive in the women of oriental climates. Her hands are long and taper, and her little feet would make Cinderella herself expire with envy, could she behold them.

Saoundiroun-Amal and Ramgoun Amal are each fourteen years of age; Saoundiroun is the prettier of the

two.

Their eager vivacity and joyous smiles contrast strongly with the melancholy air of Amany.

The last of the set is Veydoun, a child of six years old; the most singular and lively little creature that can be imagined.

The great charm of their dances consists almost wholly in those elegant attitudes which they allow the dancer to display. You see no prodigious springs, no vehement pirouttes, no painful tension of the muscles, or extravagant contortion of the limbs-none of that studied precision of step and pedal dexterity which constitute the chief excellence of the European artists. You see no violent sawing of the arms, no unnatural curving of the limbs, and no bringing of the legs at right angles with the trunk. The Bayadere advances

gracefully before her audience, her arms moving in unison with her tiny naked feet, gliding through the evolutions of a simple figure, without any of that exertion inseperable from our dances, as exhibited before a public audience. She occasionally turns quickly round, by which the loose folds of her thin petticoat are expanded, and the heavy silk border with which it is trimmed opens into a circle around her, showing for an instant the beautiful outline of her form, draped with the most becoming and judicious taste. Although in description the perfection of this style of dancing may appear but negative, their effects are nevertheless positive upon the beholder; because these artists endeavour, by their motions and their looks, to portray some powerful emotion of the

mind.

Of the origin of the dancing girls the following fabulous account is given :

"Shirva one of the three persons composing the Hindoo Trinity, descended to the earth, and fixed his abode in Persia. Disguising himself as a Rajah, and assuming the name of Devendren, he took, according to the eastern custom, a number of mistresses of great personal beauty; and in their society passed a life of bliss. In order, however, to prove the sincerity of their affection, he feigned to be at point of death; and calling the ladies together, promised to espouse her who would immolate herself after his decease. Not one, however, was inclined to sacrifice herself out of the eleven hundred, until a young dancing-girl offered her life for the honour of becoming Devedren's wife. The nuptials were performed, and the Rajah expired a few hours afterwards. The bride immediately caused the funeral pile to be raised, and having placed herself beside the body of her husband, lighted the pyre with her own hands. The moment the flames began to envelope them, the Rajab arose, and having proclaimed his divinity to the people, disappeared with his newly made bride, previously commanding that the event should be commemorated by a troop of dancers being attached to the service of his temples, and that they should be called Devadasis, or favoured of the Deity." THE Hindoos are, in general, very sober, and abstain from all animal food; the Brahmins in particular, never eat any thing that has animal life; currees of vegatables are their common diet, the chief ingredients of which are tumeric, spices, and the pulp of the cocoaThey esteem milk as the purest foad, and venerate the cow almost as a divinity.

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The Brahmin boasts that his nation is of the most remote antiquity, and that by the command of their principal deity, it is divided into four distinct tribes, or castes, viz-the Brahmin, the Khatyr, the Ryse, and the Zoodera. Of these the Brahmin is the most noble, taking precedence even of pinces; his office is to instruct the subordinate castes, and to superintend the religious cerimonies, consequently the priesthood is confined to that tribe. The duty of the Khatyr is to govern and defend his country; from this tribe, therefore, are chosen sovereigns, generals and other officers of state. The employments ef the Ryse (the third class), are commerce and agriculture; to the Zoodera, or fourth class, belongs labour and obedience. No Hindoo ever quits the caste in which he is born, unless he degrades himself by the commission of certain crimes, which deprive him of that honour. This is a

punishment that is considered the greatest disgrace that can befal a Hindoo. The miserable wretches who are thus consigned to infamy, form a fifth class, called Parias or Chanalas; are despised as the very dregs of the people, and are employed in the meanest offices.

In the mythology of the Hindoos, under the appellation of Brahma, the Supreme Being is represented as the primary cause of all things; thus mixing the universal belief of a creating and superintending providence, with the wildest superstitions. The attributes of this divinity are characterised under different personages; and, having formed the world, Brahma is said to have created a female deity named Bawaney, whom the Hindoos call the mother of the gods, because she is said to have produced three eggs, whence sprang Brimha Vishnou and Sheevah, representatives of the wisdom, goodness, and power, of their Supreme. Besides these, and a numerous train of inferior deities, they worship a variety of demigods, who inhabit the air, earth, and waters; so that every mountain, river, town, and village, has its peculiar patron, who, like a tutelar saint, watches over its privileges, and defends it from injury. The Brahmin inculcates a belief of a future state of reward to the good, and punishment to the wicked, as well as the most liberal morality in reference to charity, gentleness, and hospitality: and his practice accords. with his precepts. He instructs the ignorant, cheers

the afflicted, and is the friend of the unfortunate. Mild and humane towards others, without being indulgent to himself, he strictly observes the rules of his religion, and most rigorously abstains from animal food.

Great numbers of devotees are to be met with in every part of Hindostan. Those held in most esteem are named Seniasses and Jogeys. These are subjected to a variety of severe restrictions, and, in addition, they often voluntarily impose upon themselves the most extravagant penances. Some will keep their arms stretched over their head, till they become incapable of motion; others keep them over their breasts during life; while others, by keeping their hands constantly shut, have them pierced through by the growth of their nails. Some chain themselves to trees or particular spots, which they never quit: others resolve never to lie down, and therefore sleep leaning against a tree. Many throw themselves under the wheels of the chariots of Vishnou or Sheevah, and are in an instant crushed to atoms. Others devote themselves to the flames, to evince their regard for some idol whom they suppose to be offended with them, or to appease.

The veneration, entertained for some of the Hindoo devotees by those of their own creed, may be seen by their notions of the extraordinary sanctity of the Suniassi brahmins, a sect of enthusiasts unrivalled among modern pretenders to divine communications, for the severe penances which they voluntarily undergo, in order to reach the highest point of spiritual purity which the human nature is supposed to be capable of attaining.

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The word Suniassi is described in the Geeta, a portion of one of the sacred books of the Hindoos, as signifying the forsaking of all actions which are desirable. stead, however, of forsaking all such actions, some of the modern Suniassis lead extremely impure lives, and those actions for which they claim to be distinguished

are, for the most part detestable and appalling. The penauces to which they subject their spare emaciated bodies, in order to vanquish the unholy solicitations of their passions, are beyond description terrible.

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By the Suniassi is propperly to be understood the brahmin, in his fourth and highest degree of spiritual discipline, prescribed in the Vedas, for those of the caste who may possess fortitude of mind aud vigour of body sufficient to undergo those excruciating severities which, when resolutely persevered in to the last, have power to unbar the gates of eternity, and introduce the performer immediately into paradise." These devotees are a class of those austere penitents, distinguished by the ancients under the title of " Gymnosophists, or naked philosophers," because they rejected almost entirely, and some altogether, the clothing adopted by the communities of which they were more immediately members, abandoning the societies of men, passing their lives amid the jungles and deserts, in contemplation of divine things; thus fortifying the imprisoned spirit for the moment of its liberation from the flesh, to enter upon the inheritance prepared for such austere sanctity.

The Suniassi is said to be distinguished for his perfect absorption in holy contemplations, and the calm. unshrinking fortitude with which he sufferes the tortures prescribed to his order, the severest that human ingenuity can inflict. He seeks no human society, he desires neither the sympathies nor the compassion of men. His penances are performed amid solitudes where no eye witnesses them but those of the Supreme Being, whose good will towards his soul he propitiates by undergoing perpetual tortures of body. He suffers in secret, and without repining. He submits his body daily to penalties for the purification of his spirit. Imagining that those penances exalt him above the influence of all carnal defilement, he exults in the most excruciating agonies which the human frame can be supposed capable of enduring. Upon becoming a Suniassi he instantly renounces all mortal ties ;-the wife of his bosom, the child of his affections, are alike disregarded and abandoned, as tending to withdraw his thoughts from those devout abstractions, in which it is necessary that his beleaguered spirit should be constantly absorbed. He abandons all external ornament, and without any covering to protect his haggard frame from the inclemency of season, he repairs to the dessert, where, uninterrupted and disturbed by the cares of the world, he can, like the imperial Roman, Adrian, hold undisturbed communion with his own soul.

LONDON AND PARISIAN FASHIONS.

DRESSES.-Flat corsages cut close, with printed ceintures still prevail, the bouillonné sleeves are also admired.

Pelerines of satin, attached or not to the dress, are admired; they are trimmed or sometimes lined with ermine or swan's down, sometimes with the fringe now in such general use.

A Nakarat velvet dress had a pointed corsage which was ornamented with a deep volan; the sleeves and termination of the dress similarly ornamented, and two small bouillons served as headings.

A most elegant and recherché ball dress was com

posed of white Pékin which was ornamented on the corsage, the flounce and sleeves with undulating and wavy plumes interspersed with nœuds in pearls.

A rose-colored crape dress also had a slight bouillon in a double row down the bust, and another forming a tablier down the dress, each bouillon being hollowed, and having a bouquet of acorns and foliage in pearls and emeralds,

HATS & CAPS.-A greyish drab silk, levantine, gros de Tours, for a neat and elegant capote is sometimes highly becoming; nœuds of ribbons, and small feathers when tastefully arranged, and above all not in large bunches, set them off to great advantage; the color to be delicately contrasted with that of the bonnet.

CLOAKS.-The new Bernous cloak, cut flat or rather biais over the shoulder, and very ample below the waist, with a large collar descending very low, is becoming fashionable. The silken cordelière is much in use with this cloak, The collar cape pointed and terminated by golden acorns or silk fringes or tassels is also frequent.

The colors and patterns are very numerous equally of woollen as in silken materials. A general feature in cloaks, is the amplitude of the cape and the manner of its formation in the shawl style.

PELISES. These long neglected articles of costume are being introduced in a perfectly new and original shape, amongst the most elegant are

The Rebecca Pelise in satin of the richest description of silks, has a wide velvet band chiné, the collar is small and terminates in a point before and behind. The sleeves very ample and falling down full so as to exhibit the lining which is chosen of a color to suit most agreeably with that of the cloak itself; a ceinture in the form of a band or cordelière is made to gather round the wide plaits.

The Arab Pelises are usually in embroidered satin or velvet, the one lined with silk the other with plush. Ermine, chinchilla or some such elegant furs plentifully trim them. They much resemble the Witchoura in form; they have the peculiarity of a very large pointed collar terminated by acorns in gold or silk.

SHAWLS.-Velvets are as much in vogue whether glacé or plain, as they have been, as well as satin and furs; swan's down and lace are the general trimmings.

Mantelet-Shawls of cachemere, blue, purple &c. trimmed with Thibet fringes, lined with white satin and having an elegant looking capuchon attached, are extremely distingué.

The Chale-manchon is the greatest novelty among this department, made of wadded satin, and in a form perfectly enveloping the shape, and cut so as to form plaits in which the arms are introduced as in sleeves, they offer the advantages partly of the cloak and shawl, and are capable of the most elegant construction

Velvet shawls are in great requisition, of all colors, and particularly edged with chenille.

The class of Shawl Tigré is much admired, black with green, orange or purple, have obtained great vogue.

MATERIALS.-The taffeta levantine is a very pliant fabric and of great beauty of appearance; also the Oriental Taffeta.

Satins are varied also in an infinitude of patterns in spots and sprigs, numerous stripes, chiné &c.

Velour épinglé et chatoyan, printed in a variety of patterns, striped in zig-zag figures, marbled &c.

The Pompadour satin is a material in great vogue.

Both satin and moire have been enriched in the ap pearance by the elegant and varied designs to an almost unprecedented extent. The gros de Tour and the gros d'Afrique come in for a share of the fertility of genius bestowed on our modern fabrics; and columns, lines, zig-zag, serpentine, straight and oblique, shaded in the most delicate manner, with designs in large or small dimensions, are now seen in fabrics that were considered as unsuited or incapable of receiving such various mo. difications.

Shot satins, brown, green and ponceau, with patterns in gold are worn in elegant unison with the rich gold lace now the frequent accompaniment of a splendid toilette. Rose and blue, with white damasquiné, are well suited to evening dresses.

Armures, Levantines, also in shot patterns; cherry and black, green and gold, blue and brown, are embroidered in one of the shades or color.

VARIETIES.-Coiffures are for the most part worn very low, but the ornaments that a good taste knows well how to distribute, may add to the head-dress in such a manner as to produce an effect which would suit almost any cast of features.

Manchettes are very variously made and ornamented, in small gathers, or plain peaked, or straight, or rounded, fastened with small buttons of precious stones. A little edging of lace on both sides, is frequently employed, and the buttons or studs set them off to great advantage.

Pins for the hair, in gold, precious stones, pearls &c. are becoming in favorite use, they are frequently joined by a chain passing from one to the other, and forming a kind of band or festoon intermixing sometimes with the hair, or in any other arrangement deemed most becoming.

The Marcellian Lectures on the Acquisition of the French Language.

We received a ticket for the Marcellian Lectures at the London Tavern, at which it was our intention to

have been present; we were however unavoidably obliged to postpone our visit, which we the more regret from the circumstance of an attentive perusal, some time back, of the little elementary work in which MR. MARCEL commenced the development of his very original and enlightened views on the subject of Teaching Living Languages.

We promise ourselves the pleasure of an early attendance at his next series, and shall we hope, have it in our power to enter more fully upon this subject of rapidly increasing importance.

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Mitchell's elegant little brochures, the "Guide to the Ball Room," and "Woman as Virgin, Wife and Mother,' came to hand too late for an examination. On a hasty glance, we think them well calculated for their object, and the accompanying notices of the contemporary press speak highly in their favor.

The Polytechnic Institution," for the exhibition and illustration of Scientific subjects, in our next. Also, that extraordinary exhibition of the "Battle of Waterloo," an admission card for which we ceived, just as we were going to press.

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Mr. Clements new publication the "Romancist," is a miracle of cheap typography; the first number, just published, contains the whole of the "Bravo," and "A Tale of the Passions." Price 2d.!

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