in print, and that too under the || been valued to me at fifty thousand disadvantage of a translation. That mistaken kindness of a friend will make me cautious how I communicate my papers. I have the honour to be, my lord, with great esteem and respect, &c. &c. pounds. I wrote to Mr. Hodgson, an insurer in London, requesting he would procure information of the sums insured on those Canada ships. His answer was, that he could find no traces of such insurance; and he believed none was Paul Jones continued in the American service during the re-made, for that the government, on mainder of the war; and on the 14th April, 1781, the Congress voted to him an address of thanks, and presented him with a gold medal. At the peace of 1783 it was agreed that Jones should return some of the prizes taken during the war, but should receive a pecuniary indemnification. To arrange this transaction, he sailed for France, and arrived at Paris, where he was received with great cordiality. In the course of his residence there, he received the following letter from Dr. Franklin: HAVRE, July 21, 1785. Dear Sir,-The offer, of which you desire I would give you the particulars, was made to me by M. Le Baron de Walterstorff, in behalf of his Majesty the King of Denmark, by whose ministers he said he was authorized to make it. It was to give us the sum of ten thousand pounds sterling, as a compensation for having delivered up the prizes to the English. I did not accept it, conceiving it much too small a sum, they having We have also in our possession, an original card of invitation to dinner from La Fayette, which shews the esteem in which he was held by that eminent character. He was satisfied as to his claims, and returned to America. But in 1788, we find him offering his services to the Empress Catherine, by whom they were readily accepted. What were the circumstances which disgusted Jones with the service of her imperial majesty, we have not been able to learn; but it appears that, in 1790, he was engaged in a negociation for entering into the service of her enemies. THE BETROTHMENT. THE boy Edward had acquiesced in this arrangement with no other feeling, than that of regret at being deprived of, the society of his beautiful little playfellow. The man, however, felt otherwise. The reflection that, without any act of his own, he was deprived of the privilege of freely offering himself, wherever his choice might direct, spirit of the youth, and with increasing years, it became still more painful. Although every account which arrived, agreed in praising the charms of the lovely Emily, although every one envied him the possession of so rich a treasure, the reflection, "I must be her husband," was hateful to him, and made him envious of the free lot of all around him. was oppressive to the independent | days of liberty. But here his destiny awaited him. If he had before felt oppressed by the weight of the chains to which he was condemned, they now became absolutely insupportable, and he resolved, cost what it would, finally to burst asunder the hated bonds. More eagerly than ever he sought to make some impression on the heart of the baroness, and success appeared to crown his efforts: he could no longer doubt that she returned his passion, and he immediately resolved on a decisive step. He took advantage of the next opportunity of being alone with her, to throw himself at her feet, and in the most ardent terms to declare his love: he did not attempt to conceal the situation in which he stood with his own family, but added an assurance, that he could deem no sacrifice too dear, which could enable him to obtain the hand of his beloved. The baroness appeared to hear his declaration without surprise; she acknowledged with blushes, that he also had aroused emotions in her heart of which she had been hitherto unconscious, and that she would willingly consent to be his, if she were not equally unfortunate with himself. From her childhood, she had also been affianced to a person unknown to her, and she could never hope to obtain the consent of her relations to her union with another. Solldingen felt as if struck by lightning. He stood riveted to the spot, like the husbandman, who, after a destructive storm, regards the wasted field, which a few hours before gave promise of a rich and abundant harvest. He anxiously awaited the time when, after having completed his studies, he was to begin his travels. It arrived at length, and Edward set out with the reflection, "This is the last season of my freedom; it will swiftly vanish, and I must return, and bend beneath the galling yoke." Who can blame the ardent youth, if he prolonged the duration of this interval to the latest possible period? The term at length expired, and he received his father's commands to return home. Under various pretences, he still delayed. A letter at last arrived, with the intelligence that his betrothed Emily, on the death of her father, had returned to Germany, and urging his immediate return, in order that, at the expiration of her year of mourning, their union might be completed. This year of mourning furnished Edward with a new pretence for staying away; but when it expired, an urgent and anxious letter from his father entreated him to delay no longer. With the feelings of a bird, which, after a short hour of liberty, is compelled to return to its cage, the unfortunate Edward resolved at length to yield to necessity, and in Venice to take a final leave, as it were, of the happy With a heart torn with anguish | defies all dangers. One resource only remains to us-flight. If you love me, you must this night accompany me. In some other country the church shall bless our union; we will then seek a reconciliation with our parents, and if they refuse, I am capable, by following some profession, of supporting you and myself." he returned home, cursing the malignant destiny which stood between him and his wishes. What was his consternation when he learned, that his father had arrived from Germany, and expected him impatiently in his own apartment! He scarcely dared to raise his eyes to the venerable countenance of his father, who cried, affectionately embracing him, "Welcome, my son! Is not this a surprise? But prepare yourself for one still more agreeable. I do not come alone. Can you conjecture who it is that accompanies me? Your affianced bride! Urged by tender impatience, she determined to meet you on your return, and obliged me, old as I am, to be her companion. As soon as she has a little recovered the fatigue of her journey, I will not delay to present you to her." The old count said truly: if his sudden arrival was surprising to his son, these tidings were still more so. He stammered out a few incoherent words, and endeavoured to conceal the anxiety they occasioned him. As soon as he could with any propriety escape from his father, he hastened to his own apartment, which he paced with rapid strides, brooding over a scheme which he had hastily formed. "Either this or!" cried he at length aloud; and seizing his hat, he hurried to the baroness. In a few words he explained his situation, and added: "We must brave every thing, or lose all; the time is arrived for you to prove whether you truly love me. Love disdains all sacrifices, knows no self-interest, The baroness at first appeared struck with terror at the idea of such a step, but the entreaties of Edward, his assurances and his oaths at length overcame her scruples and her dread, and she consented: midnight was fixed for their flight. Night had scarcely spread her dark mantle over the city, when Edward, with the assistance of his faithful valet, had removed the greatest part of his baggage to the gondola which he had prepared to convey them. He impatiently waited for midnight; the wishedfor hour at length sounded from St. Mark's church, and he instantly hastened beneath the window of his beloved, by a concerted signal to give her notice of his being near, when he found himself suddenly seized upon by a band of men, who, after securely binding him, forced him from the spot. In vain hestruggled against numbers; he found himself overpowered: his head was enveloped in a thick covering, which deprived him of sight, and of the power of making himself heard; and thus, in perfect darkness, he was dragged on board a gondola, where he had leisure to curse the fate which had befallen him. In about four hours time, which seemed an eternity to the unfortu nate Edward, the gondola touched the shore; he was lifted out of it, and led into a house, and up a staircase, and then thrust into a room. Whilst they were loosening the bandage from his eyes, he had no doubt of finding himself in a dungeon. What then was his surprise when the covering was removed, and he found himself in an apartment brilliantly lighted up, and standing before his father! The old count made a sign to the attendants to retire, and then began: "A pretty frolic this, young man! Is it thus you honour your family and your rank? Thanks to the watchfulness of the police, at the head of which is an old friend of mine, you have been prevented from committing such a piece of folly. To put a stop for ever to the possibility of such tricks in future, the priest shall this very hour pronounce his blessing over you, and your true and legally affianced bride." "Never!" cried Edward. comply! Never will I give my hand to the Countess Hochfels." "We will see that," cried his father, taking his son by the hand and leading him into another room. A large company was here assembled; by the side of a small altar stood the priest, and near him the Countess Hochfels, veiled. “Here, my worthy friends, is the bridegroom; if you please, we will now proceed with the ceremony," said the old Count Solldingen, leading his son towards the priest. "Stop!" cried the young count; "I solemnly protest against a union which I can never ratify." "Is this your final resolution?” demanded his father, with a stern and angry look. "My firm and irrevocable resolution," replied Edward. "We will see if it will stand the proof, however," said the old count, approaching the countess, and drawing aside her veil. Edward's eyes involuntarily followed him; he looked towards the countess, and beheld the Baroness Espern. "Do not provoke my anger," continued the old count; " rejoice rather that I overlook your fault, instead of punishing it as it deserves. The Countess Hochfels is informed of all. She has determined to bury in oblivion the affair of to-night, and is ready for the ceremony; the priest waits" "My father," interrupted Ed-feet of his beloved. ward, "I swear to you by all that ís sacred “Who-who is this?" stammered he. "Countess Emily von Hochfels, your despised and rejected bride," answered his father. "And I," said his father, " command you, in the name of common sense, to give up this foolery, and to bestow your hand immediately on the countess." "My heart bleeds to disobey you, but it is impossible for me to "Can it be possible?" cried the overjoyed Edward, falling at the Now came the explanation. The charms of the young Countess Hochfels, and still more her talents, her understanding, and her amiable disposition, had assembled a crowd of adorers around her. She was besieged on all sides, and overwhelmed with addresses in prose and verse; but, aware of her situation, and honouring the will, Edward's father, and a distant re of her father, she considered herself as the property of her betrothed husband, and her heart remained untouched amidst universal homage. lation, the Baron Espern, for whose niece she was to pass, for Venice. Here she met Edward, and soon achieved a triumphant victory over his rebellious heart. As he listened to the explanation, his heart was divided between remorse and gratitude. "Enchantress!" whispered he, and snatched an ardent kiss from the white hand of the lovely relater. It did not indeed escape her observation, that this betrothed husband, to whom she sacrificed every thing, wrote to her seldom, and that his letters were short, formal, and unmeaning; and on her return to Germany, after the death of her father, she could not long entertain any doubts as to the sentiments of Edward. Her vanity-young man any more firm, irrevocable resolutions?" where lives the woman wholly exempt from this inheritance of Eve? -her vanity was piqued, her pride was roused. She resolved, under an assumed name, to endeavour to gain the heart of the obstinate count; or if success were denied her, to dissolve at once a contract which promised no chance of happiness. Her plan was soon arranged, and she set out, accompanied by "Now, my children," said Count Solldingen, " do not let the priest wait any longer; or has this "Yes," answered Edward," and one which death alone can dissolve." "And that is?" said Emily, with a bewitching smile. "To devote my existence to you," cried he, as he pressed her, blushing, to his heart. "Amen!" cried the old count, and led the happy pair to the altar. ADVENTURES OF DR. SYNTAX. pecked and belaboured husband. The rest of the story speaks for itself. WE have already introduced the || the triumph of a wife over her hen"Second Tour of Dr. Syntax in Search of the Picturesque" to our readers, and we are sure that they will thank us for again laying before them a small portion of the forthcoming number, which is quite as humorous and entertaining as any part of the first volume. It is necessary to introduce our quotation by stating, that the hero and his man, of the tale, have just escaped from the perils of a pelting by a crowd of boys, and men like boys, who with rough music, &c. as is usual, were celebrating Syntax made clean, in arm-chair seated, |