No. 2-NEW SERIES.]

SATURDAY, JANUARY 13.

[TWOPENCE.

Every purchaser of this number of "THE FLY," is entitled to an exquisitely-executed Lithographic PRINT "The Card Party;" 1, 2, 3,—“ Kiss the Dealer," which is presented gratuitously.—[A similar print with every number.]

MONSIEUR TOBY.

(For the FLY.)

The first time my eyes fell upon him, I thought I was looking on one of those old fantastic master choristers of Hoffman-so poor, so great, and yet so full of kindness. His back was a trifle bowed, his head inclined a little to the right shoulder, his countenance furrowed in every sense of the word with deep wrinkles; but his eye was calm and mild, without lacking spirit. His face left you to imagine the thousand ills that flesh is heir to, so truly; and his grey coat, old and threadbare, bespoke a misery so great, that a smile then rising to my lips was checked before it could be called one, and pity was awakened in its place for the poor musician.

bours, when I heard the dry hard voice of the leader of the band jog on, step by step, the dormant propensities of the poor old fellow. "M. Toby, you are not heard at all. M. Toby, you are falling asleep." Then again"M. Toby, you strike your ré too low. Mon Dien! pay more attention, M. Toby."

the air of taking it very composedly. His head rested on the queue of his bass, and his right hand held the bow in a state of repose upon the dumb cord of the instrument. At the third summons from the chief, he turned towards him his dark full eye, opened with such a singular expression of naiveté, that I cannot conceive a better nor a more humble justification. The next moment his attention was directed to his score, and the bow, it seemed, performed mechanically, and of itself, some solemn scrapes, with out the body being in the slightest degree roused from its state of torpor; and I was fain to believe that it was the bow made the arm to move, and not the arm that gave effect to the bow. The stalls and my neighbours laughed long and loud at the poor perI was about to ask his name of my neigh-secuted Toby, and at the negative enthusiasm he showed in the execution of his part. The dandified portion of this clique, rejoicing in canary gloves, cracked many a joke at his expense. Some found that his profile well described an Isoceles triangle; the most prominent and pointed angle of which was his nose. Others wished to know if by chance it was not the mummy of Tobie, the venerable person of Holy Writ, whom they had rigged out in French guise, and stuck there, to save a living and regular hired musician. For my part, these agreeable bon mots and facetiæ interested me but little, and I listened to them hardly more than I did to the tirades of the murdering hero (another George Barnwell story) they were playing before me; my eyes attention being wholly engrossed with poor old M. Toby. At this moment his attention was directed to the piece; his spectacles had fallen down over his nose, and his countenance lighted up like a young premier, so absorbed was he in the contemplation of the heroine. Never was profile more original or more graphic in its character. That pendant lip, that full, John Cunningham, Printer, Crown-court Fleet-street

It is now time to inform the reader that M. Toby formed a part of the orchestra of the Luxembourg. In this orchestra there were two corps essentially different. On the right the musicians are young: with them their eye is lively, their moustache black, their hand steady and alert. Not one of them but has seen and heard Paganini; and, what is more, have turned these opportune incidents to account. These are the lins capriciose and romantic. On the left is more classical ground-ground nearly deserted, for it has but two competitors; a white-haired violin, and a grey-headed bass. My hero is on the left: he is the bass. To any other the incessant stimulations and pungent excitements of the conductor would have caused strong marks of impatience. Poor Toby had

well-rounded chin, at nervous arm, anxiously stretched towards the platform, produced an effect altogether admirable.

When the emotion of the old musician had ceased, he gravely took the bow in his left hand, carefully covered with a leather glove, and with the right seized a large lump of rosin. As he turned his head at this moment towards the spectators, my look of pity and regard, which he must have caught on the instant, was sufficient, for that coup d'œil won me his confidence. The curtain fell. The orchestra disappeared one by one, or in small groups. Alone, M. Toby remained melancholy sitting upon his chair. Why did not he go with the rest to drink his bottle of beer, and breathe the pure fresh air under the foliage of the Luxembourg? This is one of those mysteries that delicacy forbids our unravelling. He was dull, and even sad; his mournful eye seemed ready to close with fatigue and ennui. I came close, and spoke to him; he awoke up and revived. At the end of the entr' acte, I was so well in his good opinion that half an hour afterwards I knew the whole history of his life.

At this time, M. Toby, it may be said, is in the vale of years, and may be seventy, and though often wounded, he is not very much broken for his age. Son of a LieutenantColonel, and his origin from Anversois, he was born a musician. At ten years old he could play well and ill on all sorts of instruments, and was excellent in especial upon the horn. He was in fact a little prodigy; but, as a drawback to his talents, young Toby was of a most independent spirit, and not very susceptible of control.

One day, his father not knowing well what to do with him, took him to Brest, on pretence of showing him a ship of war, and went on board one of those belonging to the squadron of M. the Count de Suffren, then fitting out for India. Little Toby, it would seem,

had been also born with sea legs. Hardly
was he got upon deck, than he became a
sailor at once, as he had become a musician,
by inspiration.
There he was skipping
among the cordage, and balancing himself on
the main-yard.

"Bon voyage, my child," said his father, "you will have ample time to make acquaint

ance with the sea."

The Lieutenant-Colonel recommended him to the captain; and the captain, to use a

nautical phrase, "liking the cut of his jib," matters were soon adjusted between them, and old Toby disappeared. When our hero descended from the main-yard, they made him tipsy. Wine is the opium of children. Toby fell fast asleep. The next day, when he awoke, he was surprised at not seeing his father, nor the chimnies of the town of Brest. Nothing but sky and water, and the ship scudding before the wind majestically her eight knots an hour. She was not called the Alerte for nothing.

F. E.

(To be concluded in our next.)

GINEVRA.

If ever you should come to Modena,
(Where among other relics you may see
Tassoni's bucket-but 'tis not the true one)
Stop at a palace near the Reggio-gate,
Dwelt in of old by one of the Donati.
Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace,
And rich in fountains, statues, cypresses,
Will long detain you-but, before you go,
Enter the house-forget it not, I pray you—
And look awhile on a picture there.

'Tis of a lady in her earliest youth,
The last of that illustrious family;
Done by Zampieri-but by whom I care not.
He, who observes it, ere he passes on,
Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again,
That he may call it up when far away.

She sits, inclining forward as to speak,
Her lips half open, and her finger up,
As though she said "Beware!" her vest of
gold,
Broidered with flowers, and clasped from
head to foot,

An emerald stone in every golden clasp !
And on her brow, fairer than alabaster,
A coronet of pearls.

But then her face,

So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth,
The overflowings of an innocent heart-

When you have heard the tale they told me | When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush
there.
there,
Fastened her down for ever!

She was an only child-her name Ginevra,
The joy, the pride of an indulgent father;
And in her fifteenth year became a bride,
Marrying an only son, Francesco Doria,
Her playmate from her birth, and her first

love.

thing

Something he could not find-he knew not
what.

When he was gone, the house remained

awhile

Silent and tenantless, then went to strangers.

Full fifty years were past, and all forgotten,
When on an idle day, a day of search,
Mid the old lumber in the gallery,
That mouldering chest was noticed; and
'twas said,

It haunts me still, though many a year has 'Twas done as soon as said; but on the way

fled,

It burst, it fell; and lo! a skeleton
With here and there a pearl, an emerald

Like some wild melody!

Scarcely had I stood erect on the opposite bank, when my dog ran to me, exhibiting marks of terror, his eyes seeming ready to

Weary of his life, Francesco flew to Venice, and embarking, Flung it away in battle with the Turk. Donati lived-and long might you have seen An old man wandering as in quest of some-burst from their sockets, and his mouth grinning with the expression of hatred, while his feelings found vent in a stifled growl. Thinking that all this was produced by the scent of a wolf or bear, I stooped to take up my gun, when a stentorial voice commanded me to "Stand still, or die!" Such a qui vive in I instantly raised and cocked my gun; and these woods was as unexpected as it was rare. although I did not yet perceive the individual who had thus issued so peremptory a mandate, I felt determined to combat with him for the free passage of the grounds. Presently a tall, firm-built negro emerged from the bushy underwood, where until that

moment he must have been crouched, and in a louder voice repeated his injunction. Had I pressed a trigger, his life would have instantly terminated; but observing that the gun which he aimed at my breast was a wretched rusty piece, from which fire could not readily be produced, I felt little fear, and therefore did not judge it necessary to proceed at once to extremities. I laid my gun at my side, tapped my dog quietly, and asked the man what he wanted.

By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra,
Why not remove it from its lurking-place?"

68

stone,

A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold.
All else had perished-save a wedding ring,
And a small seal, her mother's legacy,
Engraven with a name, the name of both-
"Ginevra."

ROGERS.

-There then had she found a grave!
Within that chest had she concealed herself,
Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the
happy;

THE RUNAWAY.

FROM AUDUBON'S BIOGRAPHY OF birds.

Never shall I forget the impression made the relation of it will not excite in that of my on my mind by the rencontre which forms the subject of this article; and I even doubt if

reader emotions of varied character.

Late in the afternoon of one of those sultry

days which render the atmosphere of the distant home, laden with a pack consisting of Louisiana swamps pregnant with baneful effluvia, I directed my course towards my five or six Wood Ibises, and a heavy gun, the weight of which, even in those days when my natural powers were unimpaired, prevented me from moving with mnch speed. Reaching the banks of a miry bayou, only a few yards in breadth, but of which I could not ascertain the depth, on account of the muddiness of its waters, I thought it might be dangerous to wade through it with my burden; for which reason, throwing to the opposite side each of my heavy birds in succession, together with my gun, powder-flask, and shot-bag, and drawing my hunting-knife from its scabbard, to defend myself, if need should be, against alligators, I entered the water, followed by my faithful dog. As I advanced carefully and slowly, Plato swam around me, enjoying the refreshing influence of the liquid element that cooled his fatigued and heated frame. The water deepened, as did the mire of its bed; but with a stroke or two I gained the shore.

My forbearance, and the stranger's long habit of submission, produced the most powerful effect on his mind.

"No harm, master; I only give notice to
my wife and children that I am coming."
A tremulous answer of the same nature
gently echoed through the tree-tops. The
Runaway's lips separated with an expression
of gentleness and delight, when his beautiful
set of ivory teeth seemed to smile through
the dusk of the evening that was thickening

"Master," said he, "I am a runaway. I might perhaps shoot you down; but God forbids it, for I feel just now as if I saw him ready to pass his judgment against me for such a foul deed, and I ask mercy at your hands. For God's sake, do not kill me, master." "And why," answered I, "have you left your quarters, where certainly you must have

fared better than in these unwholesome around us. swamps ?"

"Master," said he, "my wife, though

"Master, my story is a short but a sorrow-black, is as beautiful to me as the President's ful one. My camp is close by, and as I know wife is to him: she is my queen, and I look you cannot reach home this night, if you will on our young ones as so many princes: but follow me there, depend upon my honour you you shall see them all, for here they are, shall be safe until the morning, when I will thank God !" carry your birds, if you choose, to the great road."

The large intelligent eyes of the negro, the complacency of his manner, and the tones of his voice, I thought, invited me to venture; and as I felt that I was at least his equal, while, moreover, I had my dog to second me, I answered that I would follow him. He observed the emphasis laid on the words, the meaning of which he seemed to understand so thoroughly, that, turning to me, he said, "There, master, take my butcher's knife, while I throw away the flint and priming from my gun!" Reader, I felt confounded. This was too I refused the knife, and told him to keep his piece ready, in case we might accidentally meet a cougar or a bear.

much for me.

I

I re

Generosity exists everywhere. The greatest monarch acknowledges its impulse, and all around him, from his lowest menial to the proud nobles that encircle his throne, at times experience that overpowering sentiment. offered to shake hands with the runaway. "Master," said he, "I beg you thanks," and with this he gave me a squeeze, that alike impressed me with the goodness of his heart, and his great physical strength. From that moment we proceeded through the woods together. My dog smelt at him several times, but as he heard me speak in my usual tone of voice, he soon left us, and rambled around long as my whistle was unused. As we proceeded, I observed that he was guiding me towards the setting of the sun, and quite contrary to my homeward course. marked this to him, when he with the greatest simplicity replied, "Merely for our security." After trudging along for some distance, and crossing several bayous, at all of which he threw his gun and knife to the opposite bank, and stood still until I had got over, we came to the borders of an immense canebrake, from which I had on former occasions driven and killed several deer. We entered, as I had frequently done before, now erect, then on "all-fours." He regularly led the way, divided here and there the angled stalks, and, whenever we reached a fallen tree, assisted me in getting over it with all possible care. I saw that he was a perfect Indian in the knowledge of the woods, for he kept a direct course as precisely as any "Red-skin" I ever travelled with. All of a sudden he emitted a loud shriek, not unlike that of an owl, which so surprised me, that I once more instantly levelled my gun.

I had occasion, on returning to my own country, to pass through a valley which I had travelled six weeks before. The same flock ness prevailed, nothing seemed changed. I was feeding there as formerly, the same stillfirst visit had directed me, with much intellooked for the young shepherd who at my ligence, on the roads I had to pass in this mountain district; he was not there. A cottage-girl, it appeared, had filled his place. I questioned her on the subject of my quondam guide.

There, in the heart of the cane-brake, I "Alas! I know not," she replied, raising found a regular camp. A small fire was her eyes mournfully; "we are still expecting lighted, and on its embers lay grinding some him. Alexis took his station usually under large slices of venison. A lad nine or ten that old willow which you see yonder on the years old was blowing the ashes from some turn of the river. At that spot the turf is fine sweet potatoes. Various articles of still worn, and but little of it is now beginhousehold furniture were carefully disposed ning to grow again: by and bye, it will be as around, and a large pallet of bear and deer-high and abundant as the rest of the meadow, skins seemed to be the resting-place of the for Alexis I fear will never return. It was whole family. The wife raised not her eyes there every morning that Margaret brought towards mine, and the little ones, three in him a basket containing the day's repast, number, retired into a corner like so many which she herself prepared, and sat herself discomfited racoons; but the Runaway, bold down on the bank he had raised for her, and and apparently happy, spoke to them in such when she returned to the farm, he saw her as cheering words, that at once one and all far as the high road. It is now a month seemed to regard me as one sent by Provi- since Margaret fell dangerously ill. Alexis dence to relieve them from all their troubles. brought home his flock earlier at night than My clothes were hung up by them to dry, usual, and entering the cottage, his first inand the negro asked me if he might clean quiry was for Margaret; and, when he learnt and grease my gun, which I permitted him all she had suffered during the day, he raised to do, while the wife threw a large piece of his eyes in sorrow, and left us without speakdeer's flesh to my dog, which the children ing. Sometimes, more agitated, he would were already caressing. them hard, for we have heard the sinews of join his hands together, appearing to clench his fingers crack, and then his breathing was short and painful. I was sent in place of Margaret to carry him his daily fare. I always found him sitting upon her bank, his arms folded, and his eyes fixed upon vacancy : when he found that I was near him, he appeared surprised, as if he had not heard me coming,

Only think of my situation, reader! Here I was, ten miles at least from home, and four or five from the nearest plantation, in the camp of runaway slaves, and quite at their mercy. My eyes involuntarily followed their motions, but as I thought I perceived in them a strong desire to make me their confidant and friend, I gradually relinquished all susaspicion. The venison and potatoes looked quite tempting, and by this time I was in a condition to relish much less savoury fare; so, on being humbly asked to divide the viands before us, I partook of as hearty a meal as I had ever done in my life.

66

(To be concluded in our next.)

Margaret died. On coming home, Alexis found every body in tears. He turned pale, and when he perceived that Margaret was no more, his head sank upon his breast, but he wept not. The next day I went as usual to the meadow. I found Alexis standing on the border of the river, his hands clasped together, apparently in deep meditation. I came Fiogging to Death.-The cruelties practised close to him without his perceiving me. He by the planters of Demerara towards the was talking to himself: I listened- My slave population, have at different periods happiness,' said he, with a heavy sigh, 'has been almost inconceivably barbarous; and in passed away like this water: so, in like mana hot climate the wounds from the lash fre-ner, it can never return.' He was silent. I quently produce death. In allusion to a re- called him by name several times, but he cent case, the following letter was trans-heard me not. At length, he calmly turned mitted to England :-"Dear sir; E. M-, round his head. I presented him the basket, the slave who was so dreadfully flogged on and put it beside him. At that moment the sod gave way beneath his feet, and a little of the turf, separating from the bank, plashed into the water. Take care," said I, "the river is deep at that spot. I know it,' he rejoined placidly, people never come back any mere.' That night, at the hour of supper, Alexis was not come i, nor were the sheep passed through the gate. We waited

estate, is now in a fair way of recovery, by the use of Holloway's Ointment. Pray send me out a fresh supply, per Osiris. This is the sixth instance of the efficacy of that celebrated unguent which has fallen under my own observation. Yours, &c., J. Turner, Surgeon Inspector.-Certified as a true copy, Glenelg.