Sisters of Albano, by Mrs. Shelley--Death of the
Laird's Jock, by the author of Waverley--and Ferdinando Eboli, by Mrs.
Shelley, with Adelinda, a plate, by Heath, on which we could feast our
eyes for a full hour. Next, a sketch, by Theodore Hook, part of which
will serve to vary our sheet:--

THE OLD GENTLEMAN.

"To-morrow morning," said my friend, "when you awake, the power will
be your own; and so, sir, I wish you a very good night."--"But, sir,"
said I, anxious to be better assured of the speedy fulfilment of the
wish of my heart, (for such indeed it was,) "may I have the honour of
knowing your name and address?"--"Ha, ha, ha!" said the old gentleman;
"_my_ name and address; ha, ha, ha! my name is pretty familiar to you,
young gentleman; and as for my address, I dare say you will find your
way to me some day or another, and so, once more, good night."--Saying
which, he descended the stairs and quitted the house, leaving me to
surmise who my extraordinary visiter could be. I never _knew_; but
I recollect, that after he was gone, I heard one of the old ladies
scolding a servant-girl for wasting so many matches in lighting the
candles, and making such a terrible smell of brimstone in the house.
I was now all anxiety to get to bed, not because I was sleepy, but
because it seemed to me as if going to bed would bring me nearer to
the time of getting up, when I should be master of the miraculous
power which had been promised me. I rang the bell; my servant was
still out; it was unusual for him to be absent at so late an hour. I
waited until the clock struck eleven, but he came not; and resolving
to reprimand him in the morning, I retired to rest. Contrary to my
expectation, and, as it seemed to me, to the ordinary course of
nature, considering the excitement under which I was labouring, I had
scarcely laid my head on my pillow before I dropped into a profound
slumber, from which I was only aroused by my servant's entrance to my
room. The instant I awoke, I sat up in bed, and began to reflect on
what had passed, and for a moment to doubt whether it had not been all
a dream. However, it was daylight; the period had arrived when the
proof of my newly acquired power might be made.--"Barton," said I to
my man, "why were you not at home last night?"--"I had to wait, sir,
nearly three hours," he replied, "for an answer to the letter which
you sent to Major Sheringham."--"That is not true," said I; and, to my
infinite surpris