Ah, well, young man, said the physician, you understand the business, I suppose. Let us see. How do you feel? what is going on in this head? What passes in my head, sir! nothing, except settling for the set young of diamonds. We understand all that, said the doctor, gently pushing aside the bill. I know, I know.-If the gentleman knows the amount, no more remains, but to pay the cash. Indeed! Indeed. Be calm. Where did you get your diamonds? What has become of them? Say as much, as you will; I will listen patiently. The business is to pay me, sir, ninety thousand francs. Wherefore! How! Wherefore? said the young man, whose eyes began to glisten. Yes, why should I pay you? Because, madam, the Countess, has just purchased the diamonds at our house. Good! There we have you. Who is the Countess? Your wife-and he presented the bill. But, young man, do you know, that I have the honor to be a physician, and a widower? Here the young man became transported; and the doctor called his domestics, and bade them seize him by his hands and feet, which raised the transport of the young man to fury. He cried theft! murder! a wilful murder! But at the end of a quarter of an hour, he calmed down, explained every thing soberly, and a terrible light began to dawn upon the doctor.

Notwithstanding all the search, that could be made, this singular theft, so witty, so original, from the scene which took place between the physician and the young man, was never punished. The intrigante had taken good care to conceal every trace of herself. The driver and lacqueys were her accomplices. The carriage was hired; and this history remains a mon. ument in the memoirs of jewellers.

If we may credit Madam Royall, the following scene is not without its counterpart in our country:-Your domestic enters all aghast. Sir, two ladies, the one a countess, the other a marchioness! They wish to speak with you. Are they young? So, so. Pretty? Yes sir. Bid them come in. Your countenance takes an agreeable air. You look in the glass. You pass your fingers through your hair, smoothing some ringlets over the temples. Finally, you take your attitude-that certain attitude-you know it. Wretch that you are, you are cradling light thoughts. You are not thinking at all of money-silver money, those round pieces, subject to so many maladies, budgets, friends, play, contributions. No, you have not even thought of this. They enter, young, beautiful, noble, charming. At once your figure becomes cold. You affect severity, dissatisfaction, and scarcely dare look at the ladies. Oh! you have seen the red velvet purse, with strings of gold, and you hear the phrase, so well known for ten years past. Sir, your humanity, your beneficence give us the hope, that our visit in favor of some little 'seminaries' will not be fruitless, and the ladies hold out the purse, that terrible argumentum ad hominem. Through their suppliant tone, they let you clearly see, that they are used to commanding. There are some, who deny them on the ground, that the clergy have become rich, and that they are poor-a bad expedient. Catholics have dared to make this address to protestants, and that to gain a hundred sous. After having consulted many casuists, we assure ourselves, that the phrase, which we are about to transcribe, contains nothing blamable. It is the harbor, in which a number of honest people take refuge. It hinders the charitable ladies from renewing the suit. Without any astonishment, you reply, ‘ladies, I am flattered, that so honorable a motive procures mo

the favor of offering my salutations. But I am of a different communion, and you perceive, that we have our own poor.'

The great object of the code civil is to indicate how to dress, move, look and behave in good society. It is to teach the twenty thousand things, necessary for young people to know, in order to appear with case and credit in the higher circles. It is a kind of fashionable vade mecum, or manual of Chesterfieldism; but written in a style and manner, as different from Lord Chesterfield's book, as any thing can be imagined. Instead of laying down, as there, precepts, which assume an authority and dignity of undeniable truth and importance, every thing in this volume is wittily indicated with infinite neatness, and a tone of solemn and scientific gravity, which, when applied to such instructions, as how to put on a waistcoat, or a cravat, or how sad to look, according to your affinity to the deceased, at a funeral, help wonderfully to keep up your interest, or patience through the frivolous details. The author says in his preface that a Chinese book, containing directions about deportment, &c. is printed by law in that country, and contains three thousand articles.

To illustrate the fact that a very learned man may know nothing about all this, he tells a story of a most learned Abbe Casson, saturated with Latın and Greek literature, and imagining himself one of the deep wells of science. It never entered his head, that a man, familiar with Persius and Horace, could make stupid blunders, more than all at table, He had dined at Versailles with the Abbe de Radonvillers, in company with courtiers, blue ribbons, and marshals of France. He boasted, that he had put forth on that occasion, a rare knowledge of etiquette, and the received usages. The Abbe Delille, who heard the remark, affirmed on the contrary, that he had committed incongruities. How so! cried the Abbe Casson. I behaved, like all the other people. What presumption! replied Delille. I will cause you to see, that you did nothing, like any other person. But let us only speak of the dinner. To begin, what did you do with your napkin, when you seated yourself at table? With my napkin? Just like the Fest, I unfolded it, spread it before me, and fastened it at the corner to my button hole. See! my dear sir-you were alone in doing that. They never spread the napkin. They are satisfied with putting it on their knees. And how did you manage, in eating your soup? Like all the rest, I imagine. I took my spoon with one hand, and my fork with the other. Your fork, good heavens! No person ever takes a fork to eat soup. But go on; after your soup, what did you cat? A fresh egg. And what did you do with the shell? I left it to the lacquey in waiting. Without breaking it? Without breaking it. Ah well! my dear, they never eat an egg, without breaking the shell. And after your egg? I asked for bouilli. No person ever uses the term. They ask for beef. And what next? I begged the Abbe de Radonvillers to send me some very fine poultry.— Wretch! Poultry! They ask for chicken, capon, pullet; but they never speak of poultry, except in the kitchen. But you have told me nothing about your manner of asking for drink. Like all the rest, I asked those persons, who had it before them, for Bordeaux and Champaigne. Understand, sir, that the order is, Champaigne and Bordeaux. But tell us something, how you ate your bread. Certainly, like all the rest. I cut it neatly with my knife. Ah! they break bread; they never cut it. Come on. How did you

Bouilli!

take your coffee? For that matter, like all the rest. It was hot. I poured it out, little by little, into my saucer. Ah well! you did just like no other person there every body drinks coffee out of the cup, and never pours it into the saucer. You see, my dear Casson, that you spoke not a word, and made not a movement, which was not contrary to usage. The brave professor was confounded. He comprehended, that Latin and Greek are not all sufficient.

To settle all these very important points is the main object of the book before us. The names of the heads of chapters will sufficiently explain the subjects discussed. The exterior. Received usages. Conversation.— Salutation. Formulas. Visits. Under this head is related an anecdote of a Venetian Ambassador, at the Congress of Westphalia, who was instrumental in prolonging a general war six months, for the failure of a punctilio of ceremony, on the part of the French Ambassador. Thousands of persons were killed, towns sacked, and districts desolated with fire and blood, because the French Ambassador accompanied the Venetian to the steps of the staircase, without descending one of them with him.

Then comes Tete-a-tete. Des Rendezvous. Declarations. We copy one or two directions under this head, for the special benefit of lovers. Never solicit an avowal. A woman, who respects herself, never makes it. Examine, compare, and profit. Study well the female vocabulary. Many words in it have a meaning entirely different from Walker's. Never repeat, incessantly, to a woman, that she is beautiful, has genius and grace. The ladies know all that better than you, and they take most to the man, that tells them something new.

Then follow, Des Salons, des grand parens, balks, concerts, &c. The next chapter is upon baptism! It computes the expenses of being a god-father, and very gravely cautions against this expensive responsibility. The next chapter gives advice, in relation to the deportment called for at funerals. Among the specific directions, is the following. You must compose your visage to appear as much afflicted as possible, even if you had never known the person to whom you render the last duties. It is a species of very excusable hypocrisy, which marvellously aids the sadness of the ceremony. Then follow chapters upon des complimens, des ca deaux, des inconvenances, des bavards, des beaux esprits, &c. Under this head we translate the following. But it is, more than all, with the ladies, that these beaux esprits display their management. The ladies are much more accessible to flattery, than we are. Their charms are a text, on which you may preach forever; and you must be very awkward, to raise a blush, by telling them, that they are amiable or beautiful. See that group of ladies of all ages. A single gentleman is in the midst of them. His countenance paints selfsatisfaction, and he looks round him with an air, which says, is not that beautiful, delicate? This man is a 'bel esprit.' He is in a course of putting forth a sample of faded finery, and superannuated gallantries, the common places in the court of love. It is most of all from the vegetable kingdom, that he draws his inspirations. Each one of these ladies is a flower; and you may see beforehand, that the rose plays an important part in this little botanic court of gallantry.

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But ladies are not fond of being compared to flowers, and particularly to the rose. It fades too fast. From the chapter upon familiarity' to that

sur la toilette,' there are many very useful and important directions. The chapter upon duels is exceedingly short-but is as pithy, true, and important, as it is short; and says in a few words, all that can be said upon the subject of counsel, to those, who are challenged to fight. The instructions upon politeness seem to us far more specific, clear, appropriate and useful, than Chesterfield's letters.

The chapter, sur la toilette,' is honored with the title Meditation." The first position is 'la mise est l'homme.' Dress is the man. It will be readily imagined, how important a matter this will be in the eye of a Parisian author. Two chapters are devoted to the subject of gaming. The chapter' Usage pour le deuil,' or the customs of mourning, is a long, curious and exact chapter, evidencing, that in Paris mourning is completely reduced to rule, in quantity and quality, in sort and in degree, for every degree of relationship, acquaintance and intimacy; for every age and each sex. Mr. Owen would select it, as a fine sample of the unnatural, not to say ridiculous refinement, that high degrees of civilization. have introduced.

The chapter upon the genius of those who have none,' has a great amount of keen humor. We quote one passage. We are truly affrightened, when we reflect on the great number of simpletons, who people the world; and when we think, that these moral infirmities overflow all the paths that conduct to honor and fortune, and glide even into that, which leads to Parnassus, we are sorry, that the visionary who printed in the last century, the art to make a lad of genius,' obtained from his lucubrations no other result, than to excite regret, that this art had not been discovered before madam, his mother, had brought him into the world. The author goes on to indicate the materials for conversation, and the order in which they should be studied. He closes by saying, it is true, such a study demands five or six hours of every day. But what is that, compared with creating the belief, that one is a man of genius! How many people pass double the time, te prove that they are blockheads! If you would see the world, follow my advice. If not, shut yourself up at home.

The theory of a dinner in the city' is a most amusing chapter, in which are given many directions, important to an inexperienced young man in any country, Conversation ready made' has sharp and biting satire. The following is a specimen of this kind of conversation. It is fine weather. Yes. However, the sky is becoming cloudy. It will, probably, rain to night. The cold begins to be sharp. At five in the morning, the thermometer marked five degrees above zero. A new piece is given this evening at the gymnasium. Do you believe it will succeed? But you do not talk. Are you unwell? No: but-and the poor listener struggles with the sleep, that is crawling over him. Conversation in the streets is as follows: Good day, Sir; how do you do? You are here, then? Have you at last got back from Italy? How is your health, your business, your pleasures? How they govern us! Pardon me-I must leave you-I must hurry to my dinner-I am late already. In an appendix to 'conversation ready made,' follows a long series of aphorisms, thoughts, and commonplaces. To that succeeds a chapter upon the urbanity of journalists, which we regret that we have not space to give entire, for the exclusive behoof of our brethren of that fraternity.

But the best chapter in the book, and as we deem, not to be surpassed in its kind, is that upon the cravat. We translate it entire, as well to show the solemn and ironical gravity of the author, as to prove, how much can be said about nothing.

The cravat considered in its moral, literary, political, military, and religious attributes.

In a code of civility, it might not, perhaps, be expected to find a treatise, ex professo, upon cravats. But we have thought it indispensable, to consecrate a particular chapter to this useful part of our vestments, on which the first glances are fixed, and the regularity of which, often decides the opinion, which a whole circle forms of a person newly arrived. The cravat, besides, has its particular etiquette. The art of selecting, dispo sing, and wearing it, makes an essential part of a liberal education. It is in some sort the touchstone of a man of good society.

All customs at present are confounded. The dandy wears a violet dress, with as much gravity as a bishop. The military man does not show himself at a ball, except with a black frock, like a notary. The different parts of the toilette have fallen from their privileges. The cravat alone hath preserved its aristocratic usages. The ecclesiastic is even yet obliged to retain his little collar. The officer is not at ease, except with his stock. The poet awkwardly carries a studied cravat. The man of the world, alone, arranges his cravat, as an artist, varying its grace after a thousand fashions, and causing it to harmonize with the air of his visage, as well as his costume.

The cravat, like all other things here below, hath had its grandeurs, and its declines. We may say, however, that at no time hath its usage been as universal, its forms as varied, its importance as great, as at the present The origin of the cravat is lost in the night of time. All people have loved this adjustment, which, in accompanying the visage, gives it an airy grace and nobleness. From the collar of gold or silver of the heroic ages to the stuffed cambric of the dandy, the transition is immense. The object and the result are, however, always the same. It is at once as an

ornament, and a vestment, that the cravat is worn. It is from it, much rather than from Jupiter, that Ovid ought to have said, os sublime homini dedit, et ad sidera jussit tollere vultus. It is the cravat alone which hath forced man to carry the body straight, and the head high and proud Under the heavy ages of our Gothic monarchy, they had not yet appreciated the mission of the cravat; and from father to son, they were content to clasp around the neck a narrow strip of muslin. It was not, until philosophy, disengaging its cranium from the brutifying perruque, had given a more vivid impulse to human genius, that men become advised of the immense resources, which the cravat, virginal, and free from all shackles, gave to talent. From that time, it was no longer permitted to haunt the circles of high life, and discuss political economy, without carrying round the neck an ell of muslin. Unhappily, the exaggeration, which caused the nose to pry into every thing, soon passed the limits of good taste. Immense cravats were seen. The exquisites concealed their en tire figure under the wavy folds, under the immense ties. The art was still in its infancy. At length starch appeared, and put an end to this demagogy of style. It was from that fortunate moment, when a creative