growing cheaper and more beautiful every
day; but it can never become an article of
surpassing cheapness or beauty until its
manufacture has ceased to be obstructed by
the exciseman; for, of all the various kinds
of paper, taxed paper must be the worst and
dearest. It may be difficult for a Chancellor
of the Exchequer to part with a million and
a half of revenue; but it will be easier for
him to find some other source for that amount
of income than to continue a burthen
already negatived by the House of Commons,
and every day becoming more intolerable to
the Commons themselves.

THE LAST DEVIL'S WALK.

FROM his brimstone bed at break of day
   A devil has walking gone,
To trample and char the flow'rs to death,
To infest the air with his pestilent breath,
   And to cloud the morning sun.

And, pray, how was this devil dress'd?
Oh! he was cased in an iron vest;
His scales were close, and his rivets true,
With never a chink for a spear to get through.

And over the hill, and over the dale,
   He walked, and over the plain,
And an air-gun, elegant, polish'd, and round,
That would kill miles off, with never a sound,
   He twirl'd like a harmless cane.

And over the laurels of full-blown Fame,
And the tender slioots of the young Good Name,
He stamp'd with his merciless hoof of shame,
   And he left its print on each.
And backwards and forwards he wriggled his tail,
Through rose-trimm'd garden and lily-strewn vale,
Marking his course by a loathsome trail.
   Like a snail-track over a peach.

He spied a labourer hard at work,
   Early at his vocation.
His prominence offered a capital shot.
"Oho!" quoth the devil, "he sees me not."
So he shoulder'd his piece and he aim'd, God wot!
   With terrible calculation!

He saw young innocent folks at play,
Blameless, beautiful, wise, and gay,
   The prospect liked not him.
So a vitriol-flask from his pouch he drew,
('Twas a devilish deed!) and the liquid threw
O'er the fair young group, whom he left a crew
   Of monsters scarr'd and grim.

He peered in a house: 'twas a goodly manse,
Of time and weather had stood the chance,
   And was still erect and fair.
"Aha!" quoth the Devil, "the pile looks well,
But I've fireworks studied for nothing in hell,
If I can't find out when a match or shell
   May lead to combustion there."

That Devil could creep where no other fiends can.
   He found an unguarded spot,
Where he scraped a mine with his diligent hoof,
And—his train prepared—wall, pillar, and roof,
   Blew up in the air like shot!

That breach in the roof is mended now;
   Its whereabout few can tell.
But the Devil had done his work that day,
So he crawl'd him back for his master's pay,
Which he royally spent in a jovial way,
   With the lowest devils in Hell.

"There are many devils that walk this world,
   Devils great and devils small,
Devils with tails and devils without;"
Devils who whisper, devils who shout,
Devils who mystify, devils who teach;
But the CALUMNY DEVIL—as hard to reach
As the snail who, now safe on some distant beech,
Is digesting the core of my favourite peach—
   Is the shabbiest devil of all!

A NEGRO-HUNT.

PORTO RICO, Emerald of the Antilles, is a
fairy island of sweet gardens and orange
groves, rich sugar plantations, dark
luxuriant woods, and lofty rocks. Therein dwell
haughty dark-eyed Señoritas, wealthy
Caballeros, and poor negro slaves.

In the northern part of the island are the
plantations of Don Gomez de Mier. He was
a native of Cuba, who having there made a
large fortune in the slave trade, settled down
in the most beautiful part of Porto Rico only
a few years ago. He bought vast tracts of
sugar and tobacco fields, and lived in great
magnificence. Though he possessed a round
sum of at least eight or nine hundred slaves,
great was his rage when an overseer
reported to him one morning that a tall negro,
whom he had imported from Cuba, had
escaped during the night. His rage was not
at all mitigated when he was informed a few
minutes afterwards that the wife of the
runaway was missing too. The negro was worth
more than two thousand piastres, for it
would have been difficult to fall in with a
finer or more powerful man, from the shores
of the river Senegal down to the coast of
South Guinea, and his wife was young and
vigorous; therefore Don Gomez had reason
for vexation, and for his determination to
give chase immediately.

The neighbours were invited in due form
to share the sport. Now, as a sport like this
is even more exciting than a fox-hunt, the
guests were not slow in making their appearance,
and after the lapse of a few hours, a
dozen of them rode in, richly mounted on
their splendid Andalusian coursers. There
is no need for instant hurry in these cases;
the noses of the blood-hounds are sure not
to lose scent of the track before the setting
in of the night-dew; the huntsmen sat down,
therefore, to breakfast, and made good cheer
in the hospitable villa of their host, whose
table was in excellent repute. After breakfast,
however, they put on their large
sombreros, and, mounting their thorough-breds,
declared themselves quite ready for the
sport. The dogs were taken out, and the
negro-hunt was to begin in earnest.