27. Affects to prefer the company of rational men.

28. Wishes to be married in a quiet way with a comfortable income.

29. Almost despairs of entering the married state.

30. Betrays the dread of being called an old maid.

31. An additional attention to dress is now manifested.

32. Professes to dislike balls, finding it difficult to get good partners.

33. Wonders how men can neglect the society of sedate, amiable women, to flirt with chits.

34. Affects good humour in her conversation with men.

35. Too jealous of the praises of other women, more at this period than hitherto.

36. Quarrels with her friend who has lately been married.

37. Imagines herself slighted in só. ciety.

38. Likes talking of her acquaintances who are married unfortunately, and finds consolation in their misfortune. 39. Ill-nature visibly on the in

crease.

40. Becomes meddling and officious. 41. If rich, makes love to a young man without fortune.

42. Not succeeding, rails against the whole sex.

43. A partiality for cards and

scandal.

44. Too severe against the manners of the age.

45. Exhibits a strong predilection for a Methodist parson.

46. Enraged at his desertion, and accuses the whole sex of inconstancy. 47. Becomes desponding and takes snuff.

48. Attunes her sensibility to cats and dogs.

49. Adopts a dependant relation to attend her menagerie.

50. Becomes disgusted with the world, and vents her ill-humour on her unfortunate keeper of animals.

*.* The BACHELOR'S REGISTER will ap pear in our next Number of Saturday Night.

ORIGIN OF NEWSPAPERS. The ingenious Mr. D'Israeli has stated, that the first literary journal acquired its origin in France. It was entitled " Journal des Scavans," and the first number was published on the 30th of May, 1665. But previous to this period, we shall find some newspapers, &c. published in England; and,

according to a passage in Tacitus, it appears that a sort of manuscript paper was circulated in the Roman States, for the purpose of communicating public intelligence to the soldiers and people.

The first newspaper published in England is dated July 28th, 1588. It was called "the English Mercury," a copy of which is preserved in the British Museum. Another private newspaper, entitled "the Weekly Courant," was printed in London 1622; and in 1639, appeared one by Baker, Newcastle. The next was called “ Diurnal Occurrences of Parliament," Nov. 1641. This was succeeded by the Mercuries, which appear to have commenced with "The Mercurius Rusticus; or, the Country's Complaint of the Barbarous Outrages began in the year 1642, by the sectaries of this once flourishing kingdom, &c." This journal of Horrid Outrages (the effects of revolutionists) was edited by Bruna Ryves; and is said to have been originally published in 66 one, and sometimes two sheets, quarto," beginning the 22d of August, 1642. It has since gone through four editions, the last published in 1723, with a curious frontispiece, representing a kind of Dutch Mercury in the centre, and ten other compartments, with fancied views of places where some of the diabolical scenes were acted. The "Mercurius Aulicus" was published in Oxford, 1642. This was continued until about the end of 1645. Some other papers of this kind were published with the following titles,

Mercurius Britanicus, communicating the affairs of Great Britain, for the better information of the people, by Marchmont Needham." "Mercurius Pragmaticus," by the same pen; "Mer curius Politicus" appeared every Wednesday, in two sheets quarto, commencing June 9th, 1649, and ending 6th of June, 1656. When the Editor recommenced with a new series of numbers, and continued till the middle of April, 1660. At this time an order from the Council of State prohibited the paper, and Henry Muddiman and Giles Drury were authorized to publish the news every Monday and Thursday, in the "Parliamentary Intelligence, or Mercurius Politicus." The Gazette seems to have superseded these; for L'Estrange discontinued his papers upon the appearance of the "Oxford Gazette," November 5th, 1665. It obtained this appellation, in consequence

of the English Parliament being then held at Oxford. The king and his court returning to the metropolis, was accompanied by the official paper, which has retained the name of the "London Gazette," from the 5th of February 1666, to the present time. The first daily paper after the revolution, was called "the Orange Intelligencer; and from that time to the present, we observe a progressive augmentation in the number and quality of newspapers.

At present we have eight morning, seven evening, twelve weekly, and twenty-one Sunday papers in London, eighty-nine in other parts of England and Wales; twenty-three in Scotland; and forty in Ireland; making in the whole two hundred papers in the United Kingdom.

TRANSLATION OF A PAPER FOUND AMONG THE BAGGAGE OF A FRENCH OFFICER KILLED AT WATERLOO.

[Continued from page 69.]

I danced with her; St. Pierre was too ill to dance; I spoke to her of fifty things, but my conversation returned always to the same subject. I watched her during the whole evening, and once or twice saw a blush upon her cheek when our eyes chanced to meet. I beheld St. Pierre pay her the most marked attention, and a throb of jealousy beat at my heart; but I repressed it, because I thought she received his attentions with coldness. I returned to my lodgings madly in love.

"You remember that lovely girl with whom you danced," said St. Pierre, as we sat together next morning at breakfast.

"Remember her!" cried 1, "I shall never forget her." St. Pierre looked grave. "She is to be mine, my friend, on Monday." "Your's on Monday!" cried I, in a voice of anguish. "Yes, Dumain," replied he. "Does it grieve you to learn that your friend is to be so soon made happy with the hand of the woman he adores ?" "Oh, no, no!" I replied, scarcely articulately; "I am happy, very happy, to hear you are so for tunate."

I rose and left the room, for I could not dissemble to him, and walked out into the air to cool my brain and resolve upon something. To be unfaith

ful to my benefactor was impossible. I determined to stifle my passion in the bud, see her only once more, and set off next day to join my regiment, now on the Spanish frontier. Oh! that I had gone without seeing her.

In the evening I went to Madam St. Omar's without communicating my intention to St. Pierre. Madam St. Omar was from home, but Julia was within. It was a balmy evening in May-she was sitting in an apartment which commanded a beautiful prospect of the garden of the Thuilleries-the casement was open, and the twilight was approaching. I besought her to sing, and accompany herself upon the harp. She did so. The song was of love, and I heard her voice tremble at that part where the poet says,

"Even in another's arms,

I'll think of thee alone."

I was leaning over her, entranced. It was too much for me. The arm which rested upon her chair slid insensibly round her waist, and I told my fatal secret. Oh, God! what shall I say were my feelings when I found my love returned. At first they were of rapture alone; but the next moment the recollection of my friend and benefactor came upon me, and I shrunk from her in dismay. She looked horror-struck. "But you are another's," I cried, "and that other is my friend. Oh, Julia, let us be unhappy, but we shall never be guilty!" So saying, I snatched up my hat and hurried out of the house.

I flew to our lodgings, but my conscience struck me so, I could not face St. Pierre. Fortunately he was out, and was not to return till late next day. I sent him a hurried note, mentioning that I had received a sudden order to join; and leaving it upon his table next morning, I threw myself into a voiture, and, without once stopping to rest, arrived at Bayonne.

Here I passed some weeks in great uneasiness of mind, which was not relieved either by the silly conversation of my brother officers, or the account of St. Pierre's marriage, which he in due time communicated. This last piece of intelligence, indeed, came upon me like a death-blow; for though I knew it must come, yet even that certainty did not lighten it. In this state I continued, without any comfort, except what I derived from the rumours now afloat, that our regiment

was soon to join our brave army in driving the English out of Spain.

In about a month after I had quitted Paris, St. Pierre arrived, bringing with him an order to cross the Pyrenees. All was now bustle and preparation; but for me, new troubles awaited me. To drown my sorrow I had plunged into dissipation, and was now so much in debt that I could not move. What to do I knew not. I could not apply to my relations, because thay had not the means of extricating me from my difficulties. St. Pierre saw my distress; for having left Julia behind him, we once more occupied the same lodgings. By inquiring among the other officers, he soon discovered the cause of at least part of my chagrin; and this most noble of men, most generous of friends, discharged my bills, and set me at liberty to march with the regiment.

My business is not to describe scenery, nor to give a detail of the events of a campaign. With my own feelings alone am I concerned. Our march was long; but, partly from the constant change of place, partly from the anticipations of glory I now experienced, the period which it occupied was to me like a gleam of sunshine in a stormy day. I was almost happy, that is to say, I forgot my sorrows for the time, and entered with cheerfulness into the sports and merriment of those about me. St. Pierre and I occupied the same tent. We were constant companions even on duty-for I was the cornet of his troop; and we now loved each other as friends have seldom loved.

At length we reached the army. We found it in front of the lines of Torres Vedras, whither the English had retreated; and we confidently expected that our first assault upon these lines would drive them into the sea. We were disappointed; for they maintained their position, and compelled us to retire. St. Pierre and I were together during the whole day, till towards the close of the action, when the throng of flying troops separated us. When at last we halted, I eagerly inquired for him. A soldier informed me he was killed. In the depth of affliction I sought the regiment, and what was my joy when I found myself locked in his arms. His horse had been shot under him, and his fall had given rise to the soldier's story.

In this manner nearly two years

We

elapsed, At the close of every action St. Pierre and I sought each other, and met as those who love do meet when both have escaped impending danger. Our troops fought bravely; but what could they do against a superior force, and an exasperated populace. were driven from post to post; our baggage was plundered and our wounded slain by the Guerillas; till, finally, our generals were changed, and a retreat in form was begun. It was long and toilsome. Not a moment was given for repose-not a position was seized, though many strong positions were passed over; and we who brought up the rear were harassed by continual skirmishes. At length we halted upon the heights of Vittoria, where we trusted that at least some time would be given for recruiting our exhausted strength. But we were deceived. The English attacked us when we dreamt not of being attacked, and our army was routed almost without resistance. The greater part of the cavalry had been already sent off to join the emperor. Our's was almost the only regiment left, consequently upon us much of the toil of this day devolved. We did what we could to check the pursuing enemy; but what could our exertions avail against odds so tremendous. After charging six times, we likewise fled. The enemy's horse followed. St. Pierre's troops rallied and charged, and I fell covered with wounds. St. Pierre would not leave me. He sprang from his horse, placed me before him, and holding me on, for I could not keep my seat, cut his way with me through the middle of the enemy.

It was night before we stopped or my wounds could be dressed. I had fainted from loss of blood, and when the surgeon examined my hurts he shook his head. There were two sabre cuts on my head, and a ball through my right arm. From a state of insensibility I was quickly recovered, and put to bed; but I was given to understand that there was no chance of my recovery. Oh, that these prognostications had been realized. But let me proceed.

St. Pierre watched me with more than a brother's care; he sat by my bed-side, administered with his own hands whatever was ordered by the surgeon, and wept over me when he saw me writhing in agony. On the third day I felt so great a diminution

of pain, and so overpowering a lassitude steal over me, that I took it for granted the mortification had already commenced. Believing therefore that my last hour was approaching, I called for St. Pierre. He drew back the curtain-for he was watching beside

me.

"St. Pierre," I said, in a feeble tone, "I cannot die without confessing to you my villainy and ingratitude. I love Julia-I have loved her from the moment you introduced me to her; and though I knew she was your bride, I told her of my love."

"My dear Dumain," cried the noble St. Pierre," I knew it all already. Julia, the morning after our marriage, confessed the whole transaction. Had I but known it sooner she should have been your's."

[To be continued.]

ORIGIN OF THE SPANISH

GUERILLA TROOPS.

The French army was very much annoyed in 1811 and 1812 by this undisciplined body of troops. During that invasion of Spain, they often intercepted the French provisions and stores which were sent over the Pyrenees, Mina, a chief, had under his command three thousand of those men, who, divided into small parties, from their knowledge of the country, dispersed and assembled at any given place in a few hours time. Mina was a member of the Spanish University: a nephew of his commenced this destructive method of weakening the enemy with his companions, most of them young men of education. The nephew was killed in a skirmish, and the uncle took the lead; and of so much importance was he considered by the enemy, that a plan was formed by four French generals to entrap him and his followers, particularly as a large quantity of stores were expected from Bayonne, which they apprehended would fall into the clutches of this daring leader and his companions. By four different routs they imagined that he might be surrounded, and by closing, be taken with his party. Mina, however, was not only aware of this plot laid for him, but was also on the watch to attack the convoy, which amounted to 2000 men. By the mode of dispersing his troops in small parties, he soon got

clear of the French forces, and by reassembling at an appointed place on the Pyrenees, he was enabled to attack the convoy, of which he killed nine hundred, took six hundred prisoners, and all the stores: in this encounter King Joseph's secretary, disguised as a peasant, was killed. Thus the skill, courage, and dexterity of Mina, with a band of undisciplined men, defeated a body of 2000 French soldiery, and took an immense quantity of stores. Many similar feats have been performed by the other Guerilla chiefs; and, as a convincing proof of their activity, the French could not send a bag of letters without a guard of 250 horse and foot: nor could this Guerilla force be easily destroyed; for, acquainted with the different passes in the mountains, and the by-roads through the country, they could assemble at any given point, or disperse without the possibility of defeat. As this description of force was self-appointed, and acknowledged no control, although at all times ready to conform to the orders of their chief, no exact account could be taken of their numbers; they were, however, very generally estimated at 15,000 men: they lived by plundering, and of course were no expense to the government. They dressed as each man could afford, and armed as they could obtain weapons; some were mounted, others on foot; but all were equally ferocious and hardy. From those men afterwards obtained many able officers and excellent soldiers for the Spanish army.

L'ALLEGRO.

No. IV.

were

A LOVER'S LEAP. The top of one of the towers of Ruthven House, Scotland, once the seat of the unfortunate Gowries, is" called the Maiden's Leap, receiving its name on the following occasion:-A daughter of the first Earl of Gowrie was addressed by a young gentleman, of inferior rank, in the neighbourhood, a frequent visitor of the family, who never would give the least countenance to his passion. His lodging was in the tower, separate from his mistress; the lady, before the doors were shut, conveyed herself into her lover's apart