throne a statement of his public income, when it
appeared that, during the twenty-seven years of his administration,
he had received no public emolument but his salary as secretary of
state, and about L.100 a-year for another office. But he was rich;
for, as his two brothers remained unmarried, their incomes were
joined with his own. He lived, held in high respect and estimation by
the European courts, to the great age of eighty-three, dying on the
5th of May without pain. A long inscription, yet in which the
panegyric did not exceed the justice, was placed on his tomb. Yet a
single sentence might have established his claim to the perpetual
gratitude of his country and mankind--

"Here lies the man who banished the
Jesuits from Portugal."

Mr Smith's volume is intelligently written, and does much credit to
his research and skill.

MARSTON; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN.

PART XII.

Have I not in my time heard lions roar?
Have I not heard the sea, puft up with wind,
Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And Heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in the pitched battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets clang?"

SHAKSPEARE.

Elnathan was a man of many cares, and every kind of wisdom, but
one--the wisdom of knowing when he had wealth enough. He evidently
loved accumulation; and the result was, that every hour of his
existence was one of terror. Half the brokers and chief traders in
France were already in prison; and yet he carried on the perilous
game of commerce. He was known to be immensely opulent; and he must
have regarded the day which passed over his head, without seeing his
strong boxes put under the government seal, and himself thrown into
some _oubliette_, as a sort of miracle. But he was now assailed by a
new alarm. War with England began to be rumoured among the bearded
brethren of the synagogue; and Elnathan had ships on every sea, from
Peru to Japan. Like Shakspeare's princely merchant--

"His mind was tossing on the ocean,
There where his argosies with portly sail,
Like signiors, and rich burghers of the flood.
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,
Did overpower the petty traffickers,
As they flew by them with their woven wings."

The first shot fired would inevitably pour out the whole naval force
of England, and his argosies would put their helms about, and steer
for Ports