gment in frills, flounces,
and corsages, as undeniable and infallible.

Of course the sempstress flattered his taste; for his wife, poor soul!
she soon had tact enough to discover, had no voice in the business.

His eldest son, George, had a notion that he could angle. Old V____
immediately read himself up in Walton, and soon convinced--himself, that
he was perfect in that line, and quite capable of teaching the whole art
and mystery.

"See, George," said he, when they had arrived at a convenient spot for
their first attempt, "this is the way to handle your tackle; drop it
gently into the water,--so!" and, twirling the line aloft, he hooked the
branches of an overhanging tree!--sagaciously adding, "You see I make no
splash! and hold your rod in this manner!"

George was too much afraid of his imperious father, to point out his
error, and old V____ consequently stood in the broiling sun for a full
quarter of an hour, before he discovered that he had caught a birch
instead of a perch!

A MUSICAL FESTIVAL.

Matter-of-fact people read the story of Orpheus, and imagine that his
"charming rocks" and "soothing savage beasts," is a mere fabulous
invention. No such thing: it is undoubtedly founded on fact. Nay, we
could quote a thousand modern instances of the power of music quite as
astonishing.

One most true and extraordinary occurrence will suffice to establish the
truth of our proposition beyond a doubt. Molly Scraggs was a cook in a
first-rate family, in the most aristocratic quarter of the metropolis.

The master and mistress were abroad, and Molly had nothing to do but to
indulge her thoughts; and, buried as she was in the pleasant gloom and
quiet of an underground kitchen, nothing could possibly be more
favourable to their developement. She was moreover exceedingly plump,
tender, and sentimental, and had had a lover, who had proved false to his
vows.

In this eligible situation and temper for receiving soft impressions, she
sat negligently rocking herself in her chair, and polishing the lid of a
copper saucepan! when the sweet, mellifluous strains of an itinerant band
struck gently upon the drum of her ear. "Wapping Old Stairs" was
distinctly recognized, and she mentally repeated the words so applicable
to her bereaved situation.

"Your Molly has never proved false she declares," 'till the tears
literally gushed from her "blue, blue orbs," and trickled down her plump
and ruddy cheeks; but scar