and crimson dominoes, trimmed with deep
white lace frills and capes, yet wearing their
every-day black hats, on which were stuck
their masks, and with common-place black
trousers and patent-leather boots peeping out
beneath.

The court in attendance on the three kings
and the two queens arrived. King Ludwig's
tall, spare figure, decked out in a white and
scarlet domino, looked very like that of a
Catholic priest. The King of Greece wore
blue, the young King of Bavaria crimson.
The young Queen was dressed in a very simple
mode, a crimson velvet dress, over which she
wore ermine, and with a tiara of diamonds on
her head. The old Queen wore black velvet,
and looked so very quiet, that I never knew
she was a queen till the evening was almost
over. The royalties scattered themselves over
the room, sitting, standing, talking, laughing,
like ordinary mortals; the scarlet Catholic
priest bowing and nodding his head about
everywhere in that lively manner which
instantly announced him as King Ludwig.

Every now and then small troops of regular
masks entered, men evidently, most of them
dressed as women. In they came, with that
queer, uncertain gait, mysterious air, and
peering gaze which masks always have.
There were two mysterious, veiled Moorish
beauties; two nuns; two pink sentiment-
sisters; and three big-boned white ones,
dressed in white bed-gowns, and mob-caps.
These three Amazonian dames stalked about
together, distributing little papers among the
crowd, which said little papers usually created
much laughter and astonishment. Now a,
sister mysteriously drew aside a guest, and
whispered something in his or her ear. Kings,
queens, and courtiers all had their turn.

Such was the fun going on before and
during the pauses in the pantomime. The
pantomime itself was nothing particular.
Harlequin, Columbine, Pantaloon, and some
half-dozen other queerly attired mortals
performed a variety of antics and practical jokes,
which called forth roars of laughter from the
motley audience. To me, however, they
seemed poor and dull. The most amusing
thing, I thought, was a dancing donkey, the
legs of which you instantly recognised as
youthful human legs. Pantaloon, extremely
enamoured of this donkey, rushes off for hay
to feed it with; but the donkey, with donkey
politeness, refuses the hay each time it is
offered, wheeling round, presenting his tail
and his heels instead of his mouth, till poor old
Pantaloon is in the last stage of astonishment
and despair. The only pretty thing was a
dance of children, dressed as Swiss peasants.

People, I suppose, considered this Masked
Academy very amusing; and, you will ask,
"but why Masked Academy?" So have I
asked from numbers of people, and the
answer I get, is, "Oh, it is the Masked
Academy! " as though everybody knew what
that meant. You, therefore, must make the
best of this answer, as I have done, and be
content.

There are quantities of Balls just now, one
of which I must mention; it was at the
beautiful house of an artist, a house exquisitely
furnished in the old German style, all the
decorations exquisite, and all the company
artists. It was what is called here a "pic-nic,"
which means a party, the expense of which
is divided by the company; different friends
joining and providing different portions of the
entertainment. This is a custom very general
here, and a very rational one, I think—but
very un-English. These pic-nics circulate.
I have heard of the officers' pic-nic; the
students' pic-nic, and so on.

The Carnival is now approaching its end;
everybody is being merry while they may.
In a few days comes Lent.

A VAGRANT'S DEATHBED.

THE winds dropp'd their voice to a whisper of love;
The stars veil'd their bright eyes in sadness above;
With thousands for neighbours, he lay there alone,
His deathbed the pavement, his pillow a stone.

There were palaces near to him, radiant with light,
That kindled a smile on the dark brow of Night,
And music gush'd forth in a stream of sweet sound,
Stealing soft on the dreams of the sleepers around.

But his dull ear was fill'd with the tocsin of Death,
Ringing loudly the summons to yield up his breath;
And his eye dimly fix'd on the sky o'er his head,
Seem'd to follow the track of his soul as it fled.

And cold grew the form on which Famine had
          prey'd,
But the Demon that vex'd it for ever was laid;
It had drunk his heart's blood, and had fed on its
          core,
It had wrought its stern will, and its mission was
          o'er.

Ere long, those who drown'd his last groan with
          their mirth,
Will slumber like him on the bosom of earth;
And will take no more, hence, of their silver and
          gold,
Than the starved and the outcast who died in the
          cold!

THE RATIONAL DOCTOR.

AMONG the various sciences to which our
old friend Mr. Bagges had addicted himself,
one, which he cultivated with peculiar
diligence, was that of Gastronomy. It is well
known that over-application is a frequent
cause of injury to health; but, in no
instance, perhaps, has it this effect more often
than in the study to which Mr. Bagges
devoted his particular attention. He had been
engaged in the prosecution of this pursuit
satisfactorily and undisturbedly for some
years, when at length, rather on a sudden,
he was attacked with heartburn, loss of appetite,
and other symptoms of indigestion,
combined with weariness, indisposition to exert
himself, and depression of spirits. He also