English face, whether from the north or south;
that I almost wonder you could ever find
heart to leave home, especially as people
were not crowding out as they are now,
fancying fortunes are to be picked up on
the beach ? "

"Why, that 'a true, it was a wonder; I'm
astonished, although I've never been sorry
since my son Ralph helped me to fell the first
tree; but the fact is, I came for the only
reason that a man ever ought to leave his
country, to my thinking—because I was going
down hill fast, with a long family coming, and
in an evening sitting over the fire, trying to
make out what would be left after rent was
paid, I used to think I could see a gaol or a
workhouse in the hot coals."

The Patriarch then told me his story,
which I will tell to the reader in another
paper.

A GERMAN PICTURE OF THE
SCOTCH.

SOME notion of what stands for an Englishman
on the Continental stage was conveyed
to our readers in the last number of our first
volume; we are now enabled to add a few
faint lines of such a portrait of Scotchmen,
as obtains currency and credence amongst the
Germans.

A new play was, about the time we were
writing the former article, produced at the
principal theatre of Vienna. The scene is
laid in St. Petersburgh; the real hero is a
little animal, known to dog-fanciers as a
Scotch terrier; but the nominal chief
character is a banker from Glasgow, named
Sutherland. He had failed in his native
place, but in Russia he became a great man;
for he was the favourite money-dealer of the
Empress Catherine.

We all know the strength of a Scotch
constitution, but we also know the severity of
a St. Petersburgh winter: yet Mr. Sutherland
presents himself to his audience, amidst
the frozen scenery of that ice-bound city,
in what is believed abroad to be the
regular everyday costume of a citizen of
Glasgow; namely a kilt, jack boots and a
cocked hat, with a small grove of funereal
feathers. Mr. Sutherland, despite his scanty
nether costume, appears to be in excellent
health and spirits. He has thriven so
well in the world that, in accordance with a
tolerably correct estimate of the Caledonian
national character, his relations at home
begin to pay court to him and to send him
presents. One indulges him with the hero
of the piece; the small, ugly, irate, snuffy,
quadruped before mentioned. The Banker
takes it with a good-humoured "Pish!"
little dreaming of the important part the
little wretch is destined to play. He had
scarcely received the gift when the
Empress passes by, sees the dog, and desires to
possess it, while the grateful Sutherland is
too glad to be able to gratify a royal caprice
at so light a cost.

She, in the fervency of her gratitude, named
the dog after the donor—a great compliment.

Alas! one day, the dog, who had eaten, too
plentifully of zoobrême (chicken stewed with
truffles), was seized with apoplexy and died;
though not without suspicion of having been
poisoned by the prime minister, a piece of
whose leg he had digested the day before.
The Empress sighed far more over the loss of
her dog, than she would have done for that of
the minister. The one might have been easily
replaced; she knew at least twenty waiting
open-mouthed for the vacancy. But who
could replace her four-footed friend!—she
mourns him as a loss utterly irreparable.
She orders the greatest mark of affectionate
respect it is possible to show to be performed
on the dead terrier..

The scene changes; it is night. The
fortunate banker is seated at dessert, after an
excellent dinner of " mutton rosbif," and " hot-
a-meale pour-ridges, and patatas," indispensa-
ble to a North Briton; his legs are crossed, his
feet rest upon a monstrous fender, which he
takes care to inform us he has received from
England, as he sits sipping his " sherri port
bier," and soliloquising pleasantly over the
various chances of his life. He is just about
to finish his evening with some " croc," the
English name for the pleasant invention of
Admiral Grogram; his servant enters, to
announce that the chief executioner with a file
of soldiers have just dropped in, to say a word
on a matter of business from the Empress.

The awful functionary, on stalking into the
room, exclaimed, " I am come—"

"Well, I see you are," replied the Banker,
trying to be facetious, but feeling like a man
with a sudden attack of ague.

"By command of the Empress!"

"Long may she live!" ejaculates Sutherland,
heartily.

"It is really a very delicate affair," says
the executioner; who, like the French
Samson, is a humane man; " and I do not know
how to break it to you."

"Oh, pray, don't hesitate. What would you
like to take? " asked the Banker, spilling the
grog he tried to hand to the horrid functionary,
from sheer fright.

The Envoy shakes his head grimly. " It is
what we must all come to someday," he adds,
after a short pause.

"What is? In Heaven's name do not keep
me longer in suspense!" cries the Banker,
his very visible knees knocking together with
agonising rapidity.

"I have been sent," answers the awful
messenger; again he stops—looks
compassionately at his destined victim.

"Well!"

"By the Empress"—

"I know!"

"To have you"—