especially at the bottom of the sea, and the waiter who had miscarried my portmanteau skewered with half-a-dozen of his own corkscrews. What other extravagances I may have committed in the first gush of my spleen it is hard to say, but I have a distinct recollection of kicking Boots out of the room, and dashing my hat to pulp against the bedpost, in the course of dressing previous to making a call upon the veritable Mr. David Smith, whom I found seated very comfortably in his library reading. When the servant announced my name, he rose, and beckoned me to a seat with rather a bewildered air. 66 'Mr. John Brown, I think you said?" "Yes, the same, son of your old friend of Dorset Square, who has armed me with these credentials to you," I replied, handing him the letter. He took it, and, as he read, I never saw a man look so thoroughly perplexed in my life. Every now and then he cast a glance at me over the top of it, and then resumed the perusal, which he seemed desirous to protract as much as possible. "Dear me, this is extremely awkwardextremely awkward, indeed. A most unaccountable circumstance!" muttered the old gentleman in a sort of reverie. "And how was your father when you left him? Well, I hope? Bless my soul, what is to be done? How it could have happened, I really cannot comprehend." Here the old gentleman rung the bell, and gave some instructions to the servant, which I could not hear. He then entered into conversation with me, but in a manner so abstracted and embarrassed, that I was convinced there was a screw loose somewhere. Shortly afterwards a lady and gentleman entered the room, who to my astonishment turned out to be my namesake and the lady with whom I had seen him the night before. "Julia, my dear, there has been some very awkward mistake here. I'm afraid you've married the wrong man!" "Father!" exclaimed the lady in surprise. "Sir!" exclaimed my namesake in wrath. "The devil!" exclaimed I, feeling very much as if I were shut up in a vapour-bath. "Old Tom Johnson, of Johnson, Thomson, Gibson, and Co., Lombard Street, who was kind enough, knowing I had no acquaintances in Edinburgh, to give me one to you." "Confound my stupid old head! I see it all-I see it all. This all comes of my not looking at that letter. I was expecting my friend here at the time, and took you for him." "I am selfish enough to say," replied my double, that I cannot regret the mistake, since it has gained me this hand, and I hope your friendship." "But it is so odd that you should have come the very day we were expecting Mr. Brown here," said old Smith, who evidently felt extremely at a loss what to say. "A most remarkable coincidence!" 'Very remarkable indeed," said I, feeling that it was necessary to relieve all parties from their embarrassment by putting the best face on the matter possible. Very remarkable, indeed, considering what an uncommon name ours is, that two of us should have crossed cach other in this way. However, I am used to these little contretems. I have twice figured in the police reports as the perpetrator of shocking murders; been found drowned in the Regent's Canal some six times, with a lovesonnet, a tooth-pick, and fourpence-halfpenny in my pocket; have eloped thrice with Chancery wards, and made various desperate attempts upon her Majesty's person, yet here I am as quiet and well-behaved a young man as ever bore the name of Mr. John Brown. My namesake here has cost me a good deal of bother and annoyance one way or another; and oh! unkindest cut of all, he has been beforehand with me in securing a charming wife. However, it is all the chance of war, and he shall have a quittance from me in full, provided he reimburses me for this tailor's bill, which I have had to settle for him." My marriage suit, by all that's absurd! And you paid this?” "Your marriage-suit, was it? Now positively this is too bad. It is adding insult to injury. Not to be content with robbing me of my intended, but absolutely to make me pay for the clothes you wedded her in. Flesh and blood could not bear it." "Since you have given up so much already, perhaps you will surrender this point too, for my sake!" said Mrs. Brown. "I see you will." "Are you," continued Mr. Smith, turning to my namesake, "not Mr. John Brown, son of Mr. John Brown, Dorset Square, London?" "Not 1-I am Mr. John Brown, indeed, but my father is Henry Brown, of Thistlecrop Manor, Bucks." There was no resisting that smile. "And who was the letter from, you brought in, and that evening saw us all seated in a me?" friendly circle, laughing heartily over my mis I gave adventures. Brown and I have been good friends ever since. He is the happiest of Benedicts, and I-am still a bachelor. Will any benevolent female take compassion on JOHN BROWN? WINSTANLEY. A BALLAD. In [Jean Ingelow is a native of Ipswich. In 1863 her first volume of poems appeared; and the work possessed so much matured poetic power, that it won for her at once a foremost place amongst our living poets. The Story of Doom, another volume of poems, increased and established the reputation she had already won. America, her poems are said to be even more popular than in England. She has also written several interesting prose works, notably Studies for Stories: A Sister's By-Hours; and Stories told to a Child. The following quaint and pathetic ballad is from the volume containing the Story of Doom (Longmans and Co., London) ] The good ship Snowdrop tarried long, Up at the vane look'd he; "Belike," he said, for the wind had dropp'd, "She lieth becalm'd at sea." The lovely ladies flock'd within, And still would each one say, "Good mercer, be the ships come up?" But still he answered "Nay." Then stepp'd two mariners down the street, "For the good ship Snowdrop struck--she struck On the rock-the Eddystone, And down she went with threescore men, "Down in the deep, with freight and crew, Past any help she lies, And never a bale has come to shore "For cloth o' gold and comely frieze," Winstanley said, and sigh'd, "For velvet coif, or costly coat, They fathoms deep may bide. "O thou brave skipper, blithe and kind, "Many long days Winstanley's breast "To him no more it shall be joy To pace the cheerful town, And see the lovely ladies gay Step on in velvet gown." The Snowdrop sank at Lammas tide, He little thought o' New Year's night, So jolly as he sat then, While drank the toast and praised the roast The round-faced aldermen, While serving lads ran to and fro, Pouring the ruby wine, And jellies trembled on the board, And towering pasties fine, "And if it stood, why then 't were good, Amid their tremulous stirs, To count each stroke when the mad waves broke, For cheers of mariners, "But if it fell, then this were well, That I should with it fall; Since, for my part, I have built my heart In the courses of its wall. "Ay! I were fain, long to remain, Watch in my tower to keep, And tend my light in the stormies: night That ever did move the deep." With that Winstanley went his way, But it fell out, fell out at last, That he would put to sea, To scan once more his lighthouse tower On the rock o' destiny. And the winds woke, and the storm broke, None in the town that night lay down The great mad waves were rolling graves, The seething flow was white below, And when the dawn, the dull, gray dawn, Broke on the trembling town, And men look'd south to the harbour mouth, The lighthouse tower was down. Down in the deep where he doth sleep Who made it shine afar, And then in the night that drown'd its light, Set, with his pilot star. Many fair tombs in the glorious glooms At Westminster they show; The brave and the great lie there in state: Winstanley lieth low. Winstanley's lighthouse of wood was erected 16961700, and was destroyed in 1703. Another lighthouse of wood, with a stone base, was built between 1706 and 1709, and was burned in 1755. The present lighthouse, of Portland stone and granite, was constructe 1 by Mr. Smeaton in 1757-59. THE COUNTERPARTS. "One of these men is genius to the other." Comedy of Errors. Messer Basilio, of Milan, who had fixed his residence in Pisa on his return from Paris, where he had pursued the study of physic, having accumulated, by industry and extraordinary skill, a good fortune, married a young woman of Pisa, of very slender fortune, and fatherless and motherless; by her he had three sons and a daughter, who in due time was married in Pisa; the eldest son was likewise married, the younger one was at school; the middle one, whose name was Lazarus, although great sums had been spent upon his education, made nothing of it; he was naturally idle and stupid, of a sour and melancholy disposition; a man of few words, and obstinate to such a degree, that if once he had said No to anything, nothing upon carth could make him alter his mind. His father, finding him so extremely troublesome, determined to get rid of him, and sent him to a beautiful estate he had lately bought at a small distance from town. There he lived contented, more proud of the society of clowns and clodpoles than the acquaintance of civilized people. While Lazarus was thus living quietly in his own way, there happened about ten years after a dreadful mortality in Pisa; people were seized with a violent fever, they then fell into a sleep suddenly, and died in that state. The disease was catching; Basilio, as well as other physicians, exerted their utmost skill, as well for their own interest as the general good; but ill fortune would have it that he caught the infection and died. The contagion was such that not one individual of the family escaped death, except an old woman servant. The raging disease having ceased at last, Lazarus was induced to return to Pisa, where he inherited the extensive estates and riches of his father. Many were the efforts made by the different families to induce him to marry their daughters, notwithstanding they were aware of his boorish disposition; but nothing would avail. He said he was resolved to wait four years before he would marry; so that his obstinate disposition being well known, they ceased their importunities. Lazarus, intent upon pleasing himself alone, would not associate with any living soul. There was, however, one poor man named Gabriel, who lived in a small house opposite to |