222 CALAMITIES OF LIVING MEN OF GENIUS. 



poor lady into fits ; but her brother God forgive him ! began to 

 suspect Mr. Churchill had been imposed on by the artist, and that 

 his sister's cameos had vanished by some process equally efficacious 

 as that which melted Cleopatra's pearl. No time was to be lost 

 he went straightway to Churchill's apartments, and just caught him 

 in the nick of time. 



Now, whether any thing like confusion was exhibited by Mr. 

 Churchill, at this meeting, does not appear ; but it is quite certain, 

 that the brother's suspicion of the artist took another direction. 



" But, my dear sir," exclaimed Churchill, after much preliminary 

 conversation, " I really don't know where the rascal lives." 



"What, sir! entrust such valuable property to a stranger an 

 unknown ! Come, come, Mr. Churchill, I am a man of the world. 

 You have, perhaps, been to the rouge ct noir tables. I can under- 

 stand now tell me where I can redeem those baubles for the poor 

 girl, and I pledge my honour to keep your secret." 



Churchill hesitated ; but after many assurances of secrecy from the 

 brother, he took his visitor by the hand, and said " I don't deserve this 

 generous treatment. It indeed makes me hate myself. Your gen- 

 tlemanly hints are not unfounded. A debt of honour has, indeed, 

 compelled me to pawn the cameos. But, as I live, at the earliest 

 opportunity, my dear sir " 



" I think nothing of the money you are welcome to it," inter- 

 rupted the generous brother. (( Give me the documents, and I will 

 redeem the cameos." 



tf My kind, benevolent friend !" cried Churchill, with emotion ; 

 " how deeply do I regret this calamity of mine !" 



" Well, well, I understand. Give me what I ask," said the other, 

 extending his hand, " and nothing more shall be said about it." 



" Thank you : you're very obliging but " 



" But what ?" 



" I'VE SOLD THE TICKETS!" 



NOTES OF THE MONTH. 



~~ 

 NELL GWYNN. This is not one of the pleasantest pieces which 



has been produced of late years, but it is the pleasantest; being 

 written in the very spirit of Charles's age, or rather of Charles's 

 youth. We have no hesitation in saying, that Nell Gwynn is one of 

 the dramas which ought immediately to be sent to France either 

 " per estqfetle," or through Mr. Bidwell, of the Foreign Office, 

 in order that the French dramatists may retaliate upon our genuine 

 English authors by producing an original piece "from the English." 

 The dialogue is natural and easy pleasant and fresh from Chatham ; 

 the intriguing is high and dashing, as though from Rochester. The 

 gaiety and life of those gallant days sparkle up, as though the Author 

 had plunged his bread into the Champagne of Charles's time, and set 

 the creaming at work again. 



