t of
this notice, says: "This Borrow is a remarkable man. As agent
for the British Bible Society he has undertaken journeys into
remote lands, and acquainted from his early youth, not only
with many European languages, but likewise with the Rommani of
the English Gipsies, he sought up with zest the Gipsies every
where, and became their faithful missionary. He has made
himself so thoroughly master of their ways and customs that he
soon passed for one of their blood. He slept in their tents in
the forests of Russia and Hungary, visited them in their robber
caves in the mountainous _pass_ regions of Italy, lived with
them five entire years (towards 1840) in Spain, where he, for
his endeavors to distribute the Gospel in that Catholic land,
was imprisoned with the very worst of them for a time in the
dungeons of Madrid. He at last went over to North Africa, and
sought after his Tartars even there. It is true, no one has
taken equal pains with Borrow to introduce himself among this
rude and barbarous people, but on that account he has been
enabled better than any other to depict the many mysteries of
this race; and the frequent impressions which his book has
undergone within a short period, show with what interest the
English public have received his graphic descriptions."

Of the extraordinary acquisitions of Mr. Borrow in languages, a pleasant
story is told by Sir William Napier, who, looking into a courtyard, from
the window of a Spanish inn, heard a man converse successively in a
dozen tongues, so fluently and so perfectly, that he was puzzled to
decide what was his country,--Germany, Holland, France, Italy, Russia,
Portugal, or Spain; and coming down he joined his circle, asked the
question of him, and was astonished by the information that he was an
English Bible agent. Between the historian of the Peninsular War and the
missionary an intimacy sprung up, which we believe has continued without
any interruption to the present time.

THE FAUN OVER HIS GOBLET.

WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

BY R. H. STODDARD.

I.

My goblet was exceeding beautiful;
It was the jewel of my cave; I had
A corner where I hid it in the moss,
Between the jagged crevices of rock,
Where no one but myself could find it out;
But when a nymph, or wood-god passed my door,
I filled