a manner inexplicable to him, he felt that the more vigorously he grasped them in a body, the more rapidly they seemed to shrink from his touch, till nothing was left but the original pipe, which suddenly slipped out of his hands.

"Well then, you won't smoke me," coolly remarked the sooty demon;-" but," added he, in tones that made the marrow in Jacob's bones turn cold as ice, "I'LL SMOKE YOU!"

While the last of the family of the Kats was reflecting upon the meaning of those mysterious words, to his increasing horror he observed the well-smoked features of the satyr gradually swell into an enormous bulk of countenance, as the same process of enlargement transformed the stem into legs, arms, and body, proportionately huge and terrific; but the monstrous face still wore its original expression, and seemed to the unhappy Dutchman as if he was looking at the cock of his eye through a microscope. Without saying a word, the monster, with the finger and thumb of his right hand, caught up Jacob Kats by the middle, just as an ordinary man would take up an ordinary pipe, and with his left hand twisted one of his victim's legs over the other, as if they had been made of wax, till they came to a tolerable point at the foot; then, taking from a capacious pocket at his side a moderate-sized piece of tobacco, with the utmost impudence imaginable, he rubbed it briskly upon Jacob's unfortunate nose, which, as would any fiery nose under such circumstances, was burning with indignation; and the weed immediately igniting, as the poor cobbler lay with his head down gasping for breath, he thrust the flaming mass into his mouth, extended a pair of jaws that looked like the lock of the Grand Canal, quietly raised Jacob's foot between them, and immediately began to smoke with the energy of a steamengine! Miserable Jacob Kats!-what agonies he endured! At every whiff the inhuman smoker took, he could feel the narcotic vapour, hot as a living coal, drawn rapidly down his throat, through his veins and out at his toes, to be puffed in huge volumes out of the monster's mouth, till the place was filled with the smoke. Jacob felt that his teeth were red-hot,—that his tongue was a cinder,—and big drops of perspiration coursed each other down his burning cheeks, like the waves of the Zuyder Zee on the shore when the tide's running up. Jacob looked pitiably at his tormentor, and thought he discerned a glimpse of relenting in the atrocious ugliness of his physiognomy. He unclosed his enormous jaws, and removed from them the foot of his victim. The cobbler of Dort congratulated himself on the approach of his release.

"Jacob Kats, my boy!" exclaimed the giant, in that quiet patronising kind of voice all great men affect, carelessly balancing Jacob on his finger and thumb at a little distance from his mouth, as he threw out a long wreath of acrid smoke; "Jacob, you are a capital pipe,— there's no denying that. You smoke admirably,-take my word for it;" and then, without a word of pity or consolation, he resumed his unnatural fumigations with more fierceness than ever. Jacob had behaved like a martyr, he had shown a spirit worthy of the Kats in their best days; but the impertinence of such conduct was not to be endured. He would a minute since have allowed himself to have been dried into a Westphalia ham, to which state he had been rapidly progressing, but the insult he had just received had roused the dor

mant spirit of resistance in his nature; and, while every feature in his tyrant's smoky face seemed illuminated with a thousand sardonic grins, having no better weapon at hand, Jacob hastily snatched the red cap off his head, and, taking deliberate aim at his persecutor, flung it bang into the very cock of his eye. The monster opened his jaws to utter a yell of agony, and down came the head of Jacob Kats upon the floor, that left him without sense or motion.

How long the cobbler of Dort remained in this unenviable situation it is impossible to say, but he was first recalled to consciousness by a loud knocking at the door of his stall.

"Jacob! Jacob Kats!" exclaimed the well-known voice of his fair customer, in a tone of considerable impatience; and Jacob, raising himself on his elbows, discovered that he had fallen back off his stool; and the empty flask at his side, and the unfinished work on his lap, while they gave him a tolerably correct notion of his condition, did not suggest any remedy for the fatal consequences of disappointing the burgomaster's nursery-maid. It is only necessary to add, that, with considerable difficulty, he managed to satisfy his important patroness; but, to the very day of his death, Jacob, who proved to be the last of the long dynasty of Kats who enjoyed the dignity inseparable from the situation of Cobbler of Dort, could not, with any degree of satisfaction, make up his mind as to whether the strange effects he had that eventful day experienced had been caused by extraordinary indulgence in the luxury of pickled herrings,-or too prodigal allowance of Schiedam,-or intense disappointment for the loss of the widow Van Bree.

AN EPIGRAM.

ON Sabbath morn two sisters rise,
And each to chapel goes;

Fair Caroline to close her eyes,

And Jane to eye her clothes (close).

ANOTHER.

ALL Flora's friends have died, it seems, before her:-
I wish my wife had been a friend of Flora!

HERO AND LEANDER.

FROM THE GREEK OF MUSÆUS.

THE lamp that saw the lovers side by side
In furtive clasp; the swimmer bold o' nights;
The close embrace Aurora never spied,
Sing Muse! and Sestos, nest of their delights,
Where Hero watched, and Eros had his rites
Duly performed. My song is of Leander,
And lovingly the beacon-lamp requites,

Which lured him o'er the ocean's back to wander,
Sweet Hero's message-light, love's harbinger and pandar.
Zeus should have placed that signal-light above,
(Their love-race ended) 'mid the constellations,
And called its name the bridal star of love,
As minister of rapture's keen sensations,
The cresset, by whose aid they found occasions
Of sleepless nights-till blew the fatal blast.
Come, Muse! and join with me in lamentations
For that clear light, by which love's bidding past,
And for Leander's life, extinguished both at last.
Sestos is opposite Abydos, near

And neighbour cities-parted by the sea:
Love with one arrow scorched a virgin there,
And here a youth; the fairest Hero she,
The handsome bachelor, Leander, he.
Stars of their cities, but resembling each
The other. Sestos keeps her memory
Where Hero's lamp was wont his way to teach,
And for Leander moans Abydos' sullen beach.

Whence grew Leander's passion? Whence again
Did the same fire sweet Hero's heart devour?
Priestess of Cypris, and of noble strain,
Untaught in Hymen's rites, and of love's power
Unconscious, Hero in a sea-side tower,
An ancient and ancestral pile, was dwelling,—
Another Cypris, but a virgin flower,

In sensitive white purity excelling,

The slander and the touch of licence rude repelling.
She went not where the light-foot choir assembled,
Shunned ribalds, and the breath that Envy blew,
(The fair hate those are fairer,) and she trembled
At thought of young Love's quiver, for she knew
His mother favoured every shaft he drew;
Prayers to the mother, and with girlish art
Cates to the son she offered: nathless flew

From the sly urchin's bow the fire-plumed dart

Straight to its destined mark, the maiden's trembling heart.

What time came round the Sestian festival,

Sacred to Cypris, and her Syrian fere,

All who inhabited the coronal

Of sparkling isles their way to Sestos steer;
Some from Emonia gather far and near;
Others from Cyprus; in Cythera now
No woman stays; in Sestos now appear
The Phrygian, and the dancer on the brow
Of spicy Lebanon, as thereto bound by vow.

Thither the virgin-hunters thick repair,
As is their wont; a rash and reckless race,
Whose prayers are only offered to the fair.
There moved our Hero with majestic pace;
A star-like glory scattered from her face
Sparkles of light, as when the moon discloses
Among the stars her cheek's clear-shining grace;
Like a twin-rose, one white, one red, reposes
On either snow-white cheek the blushing bloom of roses.
You'd say her limbs were rose-buds; for a light
Of rose-like hues fell from them; you might see
The rose-blush on her feet and ankles white;
And from her limbs with every movement free
Flowed many graces: they who feigned them three
Said falsely, for in Hero's laughing eyes

A thousand graces budded. Such was she-
Fit priestess of the beauty of the skies,

For without question hers was mortal beauty's prize.
Into the young men's minds her beauty entered:
Who wished not loveliest Hero for his wife?
Where'er she paced the temple, still she centred
All eyes, hearts, wishes. "I have seen the strife
For beauty's prize in Lacedemon, rife

With virgins radiant, with love's dazzling splendour;
But never there, nor elsewhere in my life,

Saw I a girl so dignified, yet tender;

She surely is a Grace: Oh, would Queen Cypris lend her

"Or give her me! I've tired, not filled mine eye

With gazing. Let me press her dainty side,
And die! A god's life on Olympus high

Would I refuse, had I that girl for bride:

But, since to me thy priestess is denied,

Queen! let my home with such an one be gladdened." Thus spake one bachelor; another tried

To smile and mock, as tho' he were not saddened, Hiding the secret wound, which all the time him maddened.

But thou, Leander, wouldst not hide the wound,

And vex thy secret soul; but when Desire
Surprised thee looking on that maid renowned,
Tamed by the sudden darts of arrowy fire,

Thou wouldst not live without her; fiercer, higher,

Flamed love's hot torch, and pierced into thy marrow,

Fed by her eye-beams. Loveliness, entire

And blameless, sharper is than any arrow,

Reaching the heart of man thro' channel sure tho' narrow.

The liquid fire from hers to his eye glides,

Thence passing inward, dives into his breast:
A sudden whirl of thoughts his mind divides;

Amazement at her loveliness confest;

Shame at himself soon caught; fear, love's unrest,
And hope, impatient for love's recompense;
But love to this delirious whirl gave zest,
And furnished him with resolute impudence
To venture, and outface that glorious innocence.
He turned on her askant his guileful eye,
With speechless nods the damsel's mind assailing:
She gladly saw his love, and silently

Her sweet face ever and anon was veiling,

And then with furtive nods her lover hailing,
Bowed to him in return. He with delight
Observed she saw, nor scorned his love. Then, trailing
His robe of beams, the Day departed quite,
(Leander watched the hour,) and rose the star of night.
Nor, when he saw the dark-robed mist, he lingered,
But hastened boldly to the maid beloved,
And with a sigh her rosy palm he fingered.
But, drawing back her hand, the virgin moved
In silence from th' intruder; unreproved,
For he had seen her nods, and they were kind,
He pulled her broidered robe, and, as behoved,
He drew her gently to the gloom behind :
She slowly followed him, as if against her mind.
And then with art and language feminine

She threatened him :-" Why pullest me, lewd ranger?
Pursue thy way, I beg, and leave me mine.
To touch a priestess is a deed of danger;

A virgin's bed is not for any stranger."

She spake as virgins should; and yet she missed

To frighten him, who reckoned soon to change her,

When he her chiding heard; for well he wist

That women chide the most when they would fain be kissed.
Kissing her polished, fragrant neck, he cries:
"After the fairest Cytherea, fair!

And after the most wise Athena, wise!
For with Jove's daughters thee will I compare,
And not with any dames that mortal are;
Happy thy father! happy she who bore thee!
But hear, and pardon, and accept my prayer;
I come for love; for love I now implore thee;
Perform love's ministry with me, for l'adore thee.
"A virgin priestess to the Cyprian Queen!
No grace in virgins Cytherea trows;
To marriage only point her rites, I ween;
Then if to her thy heart true service vows,
Accept me for thy lover and thy spouse,
Whom Eros hunted as a spoil for thee.
As Hermes of the gold-wand (Fame allows)
Led Hercules to serve Queen Omphale,
So Cytherea now, not Hermes, leadeth me.
"The tale of Atalantis too is known,

Who fled the couch of Prince Milanion,
To keep her virgin flower; but wrath was shewn
By Cypris, who, for scorn to marriage done,
Him once she loved not, made her dote upon :
Beware lest thou too anger her." Commenting
Thus cunningly, the maiden's ear he won,
And willing mind, to dulcet words consenting,
To love's soft eloquence, that genders love, relenting.
In silence on the ground she fixed her eyes,
And gently turned aside her glowing cheek,
And shuffled her small feet, and modest-wise
Drew round her graceful neck, and bosom sleek,
Her robe yet closer. These are signs that speak;

A virgin's silence ever means consent;

The bitter-sweet of love was hers, and eke
The glow of heart, hopeful, but not content,

While yet the thoughts are lost in love's first wonderment.