man was Werther;
And for all the wealth of Indies,
Would do nothing that might hurt her.

'So he sigh'd, and pined, and ogled,
And his passion boil'd and bubbled,
Till he blew his silly brains out,
And no more by them was troubled.

'Charlotte, having seen his body
Borne before her on a shutter,
Like a well-conducted person,
Went on cutting bread and butter.'"

I believe that Mr. Thackeray knows the value of his writings and his time
too well to _whittle_ at verses in the _Messenger_ office, and leave his
chips on the floor; and that he is too observant of the laws of fair wit to
make a falsification and call it a burlesque. _The Sorrows of Werther_ is
not so popular as when known here chiefly by a wretched version of a
wretched French version, and many who read these stanzas will be satisfied
that the {378} last conveys, at worst, a distorted notion of the end of
Goethe's story. To prevent this misapprehension, I quote from Mr. Boylan's
translation all that is told of Charlotte after Werther's suicide:

"The servant ran for a surgeon, and then went to fetch Albert.
Charlotte heard the ringing of the bell; a cold shudder seized her. She
wakened her husband, and they both rose. The servant, bathed in tears,
faltered forth the dreadful news. _Charlotte fell senseless at Albert's
feet._

. . . . . . .

"The steward and his sons followed the corpse to the grave. Albert was
unable to accompany them. _Charlotte's life was despaired of._"

Perhaps "despaired of" is too strong a word for "man _fuerchtete fuer_
Lottens Leben;" but there is no peg on which to hang the poor joke of the
last stanza.

H. B. C.

U. U. Club.

* * * * *

"FEATHER IN YOUR CAP."

(Vol. ix., p. 220.)

In reply to MR. GATTY'S question, I beg to state that the Indian wears an
eagle's feather for every enemy he has slain. I have seen a boy of fifteen
thus decorated, and was assured that it had been lawfully won.

The feather is usually stuck into the hinder part of the turban, or
head-dress, and either projects straight out, or hangs down the back. This
is exactly the fashion in which the Chinese wear the peacock's feather; and
it also is a mark of distinction for warriors, a military institution
similar to our knighthood, or, perhaps, what knighthood once was. (See De
Guignes and Barrow, &c.) I think McK