plight; and to add to his mortification, he beheld Mademoiselle de Launay, now Madame Manserol, walking down to the beach with her husband, who was the ghost that had carried her off from the masquerade. This was more galling than the voice of the vampire. At this moment Lenoir, who had not been enabled immediately to follow his master, arrived, and ordering the boat to be ready, requested his master to step in, and they were rowed with all expedition to the vessel, which lay off at some distance, while the train and baggage of Sir Giles followed in another boat.

M. de Launay was quietly sitting at his breakfast table when Madame Sandino entered, and, after some preliminary discourse, opened part of the affair, and informed him of the precipitate departure of the knight, without mentioning the marriage of her sister. The gentleman, highly exasperated at what he termed an insult offered to the dignity of his house, went immediately to the beach, and stepping into a boat, followed the knight to the vessel. The latter saw the approaching storm, and exerted his weak brain to evade it, but in vain.

M. de Launay ascended the ship, and addressed him in a manner little calculated to alleviate the fear of the knight. He asked him how he dared to leave the island without fulfilling the engagements he had entered into respecting his daughter; and, in a most peremptory manner, demanded satisfaction for the insult.

"It was contrary to my heart's desire that I was compelled to take this step," replied the trembling knight. "That vampire which attacked me in Poland again tormented me here in so unmerciful a manner that I could no longer support it. The vampire," continued he, “is, I believe, the ghost of some of my ancestors."

M. de Launay, who did not understand a word of this, and who now recollected the vague answers he had received from the knight when he found him in the heap of straw, began to think him really mad; but, notwithstanding, he began to chastise him with a more formidable weapon than his lungs. The latter begged him to desist his anger, and offered even to give half his fortune to Mademoiselle de Launay as a marriage portion, if he might be permitted to depart in peace.

"I'd rather see her rot on a dunghill," replied the incensed father, "than know she was under an obligation to you, Sir Giles; and if you have any fear of more adequate punishment you will take my advice, and never place your foot on this island again ;" and with this he left the vessel, and returned to the town.

The knight blessed his stars that it was no worse, and ordered the commander to set every sail for France.

M. de Launay found his daughter Jane, M. de Manserol, and Monsieur and Madame Sandino, seated under an oak tree at the bottom of his garden. When informed that their union had already taken place, he stretched out his hand in token of forgiveness. The two delin

quents threw themselves at his feet, and when they resumed their seats he was further informed of the various tricks which had been practised on the knight, at which he was much amused, but regretted that the rules of hospitality had been transgressed.

Valentine, whose talents and exertions were liberally rewarded, changed his tone, and pronounced the following words to the assembled family, as a farewell in his character of the vampire.

The snow is deep, the wind is cold,
Have pity on poor Vampy old,
For icicles hang on the thorn,

And poor old Vampy feels forlorn.

Sir Giles no more doth hear the sound

Of Pepopukin echoing round.
Now Vampy walks upon the snow,

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!

Sir Giles soon reached Paris, and resolved never to leave it, at least in pursuit of brides; and all would have passed off to his credit, had not Monsieur and Madame de Manserol been obliged to visit Paris, and hearing how he boasted of the achievements he had performed in the island of Corsica, circulated the tale of his disgrace, and he from thenceforth acquired, and still bears, the surname of Pepopukin.

A. Y.

THE POSSESSED ONE.

In this present evil world, it is no wonder that the operations of the evil angels, are more sensible than those of the good ones. ---Cotton Mather.

Oh! thou eternal mover of the Heavens,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
Oh! beat away the busy meddling fiend
That lays strong siege upon this wretch's soul,
And from his bosom purge his black despair.
Shakspeare.

Ir is now a very considerable time since the inhabitants of Lombard-street retained any fragments of that profession which originally gave name to the place in which they dwelt, although there is still so much of their ancient character extant, that there are yet many bankers who reside there, notwithstanding that they have long since ceased to be goldsmiths and Longobard merchants. This feature, which was perhaps most prominent in the time of Elizabeth, began to change its appearance in the latter part of the seventeenth century; and in the succeeding one it gradually passed away, leaving us now no traces of those many curious customs with which it was once

connected. Indeed, it seems as if a part of an ancient banker's profession had fallen into disrepute; though it may be as much from want of remembering that it was once honourable as from any other cause; for the pawnbrokers of the present day carry on that traffic, and display those ensigns, which a knighted goldsmith of Elizabeth's period would not have thought himself dishonoured by being connected with. Those same golden balls, which now mark the receptacle of poverty's superfluities, and on which so many bad jokes have been passed, once formed the ancient armorial ensigns of that part of Austrian Italy called Lombardy, and they indicated that the person over whose door they were suspended, was able either to furnish a new service of gold or silver plate, or to advance money on an old one; to exchange foreign for English, and English for foreign coin; to supply a young heir with the means of continuing his wanton career; or to raise for the queen and her government those sinews of war, which should countercheck the richest continental sovereigns, and give to England's fleets and armies, the power of bearing her name and her thunders to every part of the then known world. Such were the broggers or brokers who inhabited Lombardstreet at a former day, and who formed the most wealthy and one of the most important parts of the kingdom.

It was then in the house of Louis Bezant, an eminent merchant-adventurer, goldsmith, and banker, who lived, about the year 1720, at the sign of the arms of Lombardy,