ted--both persuaded that our hearts were reciprocally broken.

Ah!--if you knew what I suffered night and day! her picture rested in my
bosom; and I consumed a pipe of wine in toasting her health, while I was
dying of damp and rheumatism. But the recollection of my _constant
Harriette_ supported me through all; and particularly so, when I was
cheered by the report of my snub-nosed surgeon, who joined us six months
after at Santarem, and assured me on the faith of a physician, that the
dear girl was in the last stage of a consumption.

Two years passed away, and we were ordered home. O heavens! what were my
feelings when I landed at Portsmouth! I threw myself into a carriage, and
started with four horses for Canterbury: I arrived there with a safe neck,
and lost not a moment in announcing my return to my constant Harriette.

The delay of the messenger seemed an eternity: but what were my feelings,
when he brought me a perfumed note (to do her justice, she always wrote on
lovely letter-paper), and a parcel. The one contained congratulations of my
safe arrival, accompanied by assurances of unfeigned regret that I had not
reached Canterbury a day sooner, and thus allowed her an opportunity of
having her "dear friend Captain Melcomb" present at her wedding; while the
packet was a large assortment of French kid skins and white ribbon.

That blessed morning she had bestowed her fair hand on a fat professor of
theology from Brazen Nose, who had been just presented to a rich prebend by
the bishop, for having proved beyond a controversy, the divine origin of
tithes, in a blue-bound pamphlet. Before I had time to recover from my
astonishment, a travelling carriage brought me to the window; and quickly
as it passed, I had full time to see _ma belle Harriette_ seated
beside the thick-winded dignitary. She bowed her white Spanish hat and six
ostrich feathers to me as she rolled off, to spend, as the papers informed
me, "the honey-moon at the lakes of Cumberland.' There was a blessed return
for two years' exposure to the attacks of rheumatism and French
cavalry.--_Stories of Waterloo._

* * * * *

When the celebrated Philip Henry was ejected from the establishment,
Dr. Busby (who had been his tutor) meeting him, said, "Who made you a
nonconformist?" "You, Sir," replied he, "I made you a nonconformist!"
"Yes, Sir, you taught me those principles which forbade to violate my
conscience."

TOSCAR.