ction of my own well-known
features. I confess it is a weakness, but I avow it, I do entertain a
considerable affection for the countenance and limbs I behold, whenever
I look at a glass; and have more mirrors in my house, and consult them
oftener than any beauty in Venice. Before you too much condemn me,
permit me to say that no one better knows than I the value of his own
body; no one, probably, except myself, ever having had it stolen from
him.

Incoherently I at first talked of the dwarf and his crimes, and
reproached Juliet for her too easy admission of his love. She thought me
raving, as well she might, and yet it was some time before I could
prevail on myself to admit that the Guido whose penitence had won her
back for me was myself; and while I cursed bitterly the monstrous dwarf,
and blest the well-directed blow that had deprived him of life, I
suddenly checked myself when I heard her say--Amen! knowing that him
whom she reviled was my very self. A little reflection taught me
silence--a little practice enabled me to speak of that frightful night
without any very excessive blunder. The wound I had given myself was no
mockery of one--it was long before I recovered--and as the benevolent
and generous Torella sat beside me talking such wisdom as might win
friends to repentance, and mine own dear Juliet hovered near me,
administering to my wants, and cheering me by her smiles, the work of my
bodily cure and mental reform went on together. I have never, indeed,
wholly, recovered my strength--my cheek is paler since--my person a
little bent. Juliet sometimes ventures to allude bitterly to the malice
that caused this change, but I kiss her on the moment, and tell her all
is for the best. I am a fonder and more faithful husband--and true is
this--but for that wound, never had I called her mine.

I did not revisit the sea-shore, nor seek for the fiend's treasure; yet,
while I ponder on the past, I often think, and my confessor was not
backward in favoring the idea, that it might be a good rather than an
evil spirit, sent by my guardian angel, to show me the folly and misery
of pride. So well at least did I learn this lesson, roughly taught as I
was, that I am known now by all my friends and fellow-citizens by the
name of Guido il Cortese.

From the North British Review

PHILIP DODDRIDGE, AND SOME OF HIS FRIENDS.

In the ornithological gallery of the British Museum is suspended the
portrait of an extinct law