YF XIUN.


[SE~;T'rPT ERi 21, 1861.


 A TALE O:F WO1VEAN\'S VEN1TG--EAINCE-.
 Mri. Sp algs :-" WHAT'S TII IE AiTTII, MYR DEAR FELLOW ? "
 MrI. WVoriitvoooc Scr'aMs:-" WiYr, I JUST ASIED ALICIA MORTIiMEiR FOR THE NEXT WALTZ, WHEN THAT SPITEFUL FANNY MARTIN
 GAVE llE SUCII A KNOCK ON TIE SHIN 1Mlr HER HOOP, THAT I SHA'INT BE .\LE TO DANCE FOR A FOITNIGIIT."'


 my native laud, and the dark, but mellifluous-toned Mackni! She
 EXTRACT FROM A DIARY FOUND NEAR -- PRISON. passed on proudly to her bathing-machine. I walked out two miles
 oday from the town. I plunged into the sea; I swam, I dived, I splashed,
 ioida. I swallowed more salt water than agreed with me. What cared I?
 1 .\M ardent! I am young I am impressionable! I am Italian ; The same ocean contained us both! the same breeze fanned us! the
The burning sunbeams of my native south have tinged my heart with same waves fiothed round us i I was happy!
poesy and passion! I am an artist! My name is VINCENTIO. Wle Tllesday.-Oh! wretched day! Oh! miserable hour! She
 I love to write down the flaming thoughts that fire my brain! 'Tis passed me on the pier I bowed to her. She took no notice. A
as one would mark the track of molten lava from the consuming tall soldier of the fog-coloured militia of this murky clime was by her
crater of the vast Vesuvius. Alh! how happy the simile between side. I could have seized him and hurled him into the sea! I
Vesuvius and VicExrro Both smouldering, dusty, ciiderous, pow- restrained myself, and did not do it.
derous, and within-a devouring volcano I do not mean appetite, 'hriisda!l.--iorno felice i I have seen her again. She hasmarked
intellect. I am all intellect! I learned the barbarous lamgnage of my homage. She smiled as our eyes met. iHa! ha! I see, Mon-
these haughty islanders at the Hotel de la Sablonire where I was- sicor lc Militaire. She is deceiving you for me Take care!
where I pursued my studies. 'Tu!esday.-T- have sent her letters, many letters, but have received
 I am an artist. I am poor. The mingled souls of Michael Angelo no answer. I watch her in her balcony; she and the straw-hatted
and Titian throb in my fingers, and look through my orbs. I love man, who was a neutral-tinted soldier. They are laughing. Can they
beauty,-in the abstract, the ideal! Albion's daughters are the fairest be speaking of VINCENTIO ? No! Impossible See, the straw hat
of the world. My coat is old, my boots are older; my stockings peep retires! Good Perdition! She retires too! Maledizzione! My
from themllike snow-drop petals bursting through the mould. Myland- heart is void, and I am hungry. 'Tis night, the stars are in the
lady is cruel; she asks her rent. I tell her I am an artist, and my soul heavens and the policemen on their beat. I will walk round the
yearns for the ideal. She lias no poetry of feeling. I hate her! I house, tlte casket that enshrines my jewel! What is that appears at
hate Englanud! 1 liat the world! I mock the ocean! I spit at tlie te0 back door ? It is a female hand! It waves a billet. 'Tis an
rising sun! assignation! All! would I were better dressed! I arrive at tle
 Tiesdny.-I hlave seen her! I have seen her! I love, and I am nCarst lamp-post, I swarm it, kiss the illet-donx, and read:
happy! Slhe is blonde, shle is patrician! IIer eyes are blue, her i
skin is of the sea-slell. ITer robe is of muslin. Her smile is rainbow- Be at the back-door to-night at twelve.-EMlrLY."
gloried. Her boots are Balnoral. In the divine words of the great Rapture! Transport! Joy! Delirium! Ecstacy! She is mine!
English poet :- She is mine! The beautiful blondo patricienne is mine !
 Sie is lovely, she is beantiftl,-the lfirest one I know !" Morei I cannot at this moment. The recollection of that night for a
Sun, I kiss you Ocean, I embrace you! Moon, come to my arms! time unnerves me. Do not wait for me; go to press, and be happy. I
 I met her for the first timo to-day on the sands! on the sands! will tell you the rest when I am calmer.
on the sands! on the sanis! Insensibly I burst forth into the -
divine melody made world-sounding by the accomplished artists of Probably hie gifted foreigner means a Rifle Volunteer.


 I ri dt r. !'rilir ;,andl ]L'lbli-hed lor l Ph roprili 1, I I 11iliL.L W1S YTI:, a; li, (i]s sn lii,,, Sri'it, I '.C. S ;iinly, -p],lri t,il.t 1S01.


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