518. Affairs in General. LNov. 
streams of milk and honey, or nectar itself could scarcely sound more 
delightful. Mr. Martin has very rudely broken the charm, by assuring 
us these streams of the lovely vale of Ruislip were nothing but drain- 
ditches in the neighbourhood, dry all the summer. 
Poor Mademoiselle Verrey, and her wee, simple features, and clustering, | 
enveloping tresses. The Swiss exile to which she was said to be doomed 
by the advice of the magistrate proved to be the back-parlour, where, 
suddenly excluded from the delicions draughts of compliment she daily 
and hourly inhaled—the common air—the exhilarating sights—the per- 
petual bustle and movement of Regent Street, the unhappy girl sickened, 
pined, and died. Could nobody foresee that a change so abrupt and 
peremptory would shock to the centre a girl, like her, evidently of the 
most susceptible texture ? 
Contrast this poor girl with the young lady of Bremen—a perfect angel 
in form, and feature, and accomplishments, as the German papers repre- 
sent her, who has poisoned sixty-five persons, prompted by the varying 
impulses of love, jealousy, ambition, and avarice. This out-herods 
Herod. How much of itis true? 
In the way of extravagant assertion, though of a very innocent cast, 
take the following from the Quarterly Journal of Science, of whose 
merits we have already spoken. Last year the Pacha of Egypt offered a 
reward of seventeen piastres a measure (what size?) for grasshopper’s 
eges; and the quantity, by Cctober, brought in, amounted to 46,000 
piastres, or 40,000/. sterling. To be sure, the Quarterly Journal was not 
bound by any penalty to know the the value of a piastre; but the very 
sound of 40,000/. must surely have startled him, and led him to inquire 
about the quantity of grasshopper’s eggs before he stuffed his ostenta- 
tious publication with a mad story of this kind. 
There has been a sad dearth of new publications this month ; but a 
novel we met with, the Anglo-Irish, has some scenes of considerable 
power. It was not every body who saw O’Connel and Shiel when in 
London. The waiter of an inn, playing Cicerone, will give us a 
glance :— 
“¢ Please to look at that tall, lusty gentleman, with the Oxford-grey sur- 
tout, buttoned below, but wide open at the breast, and with the Quaker-like 
hat, and the healthy, good-humoured face, and his eyes cast down, thinking, 
and the umbrella lying along his arm—he that walks so firm and stout ?’— 
* That’s Counsellor Dan.’ 
«« Pray assist me again: I have my eye, I think, upon some other popular 
eharacter, for the people turn to lock after him too, though he is so different a 
figure from Mr. O’Connel—I mean the low, slight, little gentleman, who walks 
so rapidly, jerking his arms, and pushing out his under lip so often, and 
whose complexion is so bilious, and whose nose is rather short and cocked, 
and—now that he happens to look up—whose eyes are so dark, and fine, and 
expressive ?’—‘ That’s Mr. Shiel.’” 
Similar glimpses are given of O’Gorman, Eneas M’Donnel, Sir Har- 
court Lees, and Lord Norbury, and a fair sketch of the different style 
and manner of speaking in the two leaders. 
Some where or other we saw it remarked, that onion or garlick, 
rubbed on the wound, would relieve the sting of a wasp. We do not 
recollect the authority—but an onion is always readily attainable; and 
