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THE EXAMINER.

— Abygaayoad.

[trom the Court Journal.] I'M NOT A HANDSOME MAN.

When I have pondered, now and then, The miseries that arise

From those thrice favoured mortals, ‘ Men With lovely hair and eyes;’

The girls thet daily lose their wits, From looks where lightnings flash ;

The tears, and sighs, and fainting fits, Produced by a moustache ;

The battles, murders, wounds, and scars, Since first the world began—

i very often thank my stars I’m not a handsome man.

Though I am tender to them all, For me they never fret;

J never caused a tear to fall From any female, yet!

We part--for twenty years or two, No ‘strong convulsions’ tell ;— We meet—I faulter ‘how d’ye do?’ They laugh a gay ‘quite well.’

i never hear ‘You've grown so thin,’ From Fanny or from Anne;

Ican’t perceive they care a pin ;— I’m not a handsome man.

My boots from Hoby, yeu can see, My coatis cut by Stultz—

And yet they don’t consider me Like other male adults:

My figure they can scarce abuse, And each proportion suits,

i’m five feet ten in dancing shoes, And six feet one, in boots ;

Yet at a ball no girl ere had My name upon her fan.

#or waltz, quadrille, or gallopade— I’m not ahandsome man.

The ‘ soft regrets’—the ‘agony,’ The ‘socthings’ that repay

A broken heart, or head+on me Are never thrown away ;

They see me take, without remorse, No sustenance for a week—

Or mount the most neck-breaking horse, Without a single shriek-;

No, ‘ Don't, for mercy’s sake, be rash, No tender ‘How you can,’

Unheeded, all my bones may crash— I’m not a handsome man.

All my perfections have an ‘rr,’ My virtues all a ‘ gut,’

* His gait is graceful, sur, too stiff, His mouth well shaped, ir shut:’

‘ He writes the most delicious rhymes, But has not one blue vein ;’

‘ Like Byron, raves of foreign climes, But, heavens! he is so plain?’

Even my modesty some defect Supplies for them to scan,

* His songs are really roo correct’— I’m not a handsome man,

And yet i bear with all their pets, As well as all their airs,

‘Their monkeys, squirrels, paroquets, Tame goldtinches, and hares:

{ visit Laura, and I bring Her swan, a ‘comfiture ;’

icall on Fanny, and [ fling Her monkey—a ‘douceur ;’

Yet this, forall I have withstood, The only praise they can—

‘If he’s not a beautiful he’s good’— Ym not a handsome man!

THE FALL GF HERCULANEUM. A TALE OF TRE GREAT ERUPTION,

—_——

PART I1.=THE TRIBUNAL.

Twilight was stealing over the earth. The sun had one down to his accustomed rest behind the distant toountains, whose snmmits yet retained a tinge of that teddish golden hve which is always in Italy the precur- eor of its setting. Mist-clouds arose, like shadowy “orms of spirits, Yom out the depths of the calm ocean, and a filmy vapor was just discernible above the highest cone of the burning mountain, which was-visible from all parts of Herculaneum, end from many other towns and villages adjacent.

Yet notwithstaading the close approach of night, (for)

the Heréulaneans were in favor of early hours) the streets of the gay city—second in gaiety only to its mére kaugkty neighbor, Ponpeii—were filled with a crowd of varionsly attired personages, all way toward that portion of the town where was situated the Hall of Justice, or place where were tried all such

wenéing their!

; ‘ 4

Cases of injustice or wrong as might require redress or}

pabhe hoaring.

~===(practitioners, for their own selfish ends, ‘have rendered

;

‘aged father,

}

| In those days, and especially in Herculaneum, justice was by no means the ‘ shadow of a name,’ which modern

‘it, and not even the wealthiest individual living within ‘its jurisdiction was screened from the exercise of magis- terial authority in cases of a nature requiring the law’s interference.

| On the present occasion the throng consisted of all ‘sexes and ages—thus proclaiming that the event which jhad called them forth was far from being an ordinary one. Sweeping stately along the evenly paved avenue, the proud noble brushed with his perfumed robes the coarser garments of the peasant and the laborer.—Priests | with their meekly felded hands submissively reposing on their breasts, and eyes seeking the ground, as though from the fear of contamination, walked side by side, ‘with ladies of rank and Station, and these in their turn | were followed close by the bearded and steel-armed ‘soldier, the gravely clad and gravely spoken civilian, the humble artisan, and the ragged beggar.

In the centre of the concourse, which, in the midget of talking and laughter, swept onward toward the Justice- seat of Herculaneum like a triumphal procession, rettrn- ing from the scene of some great victory, a group, consisting of thtee young men, attired in the rich Cloths of Syria—a circumstance which bespoke them nob] born-—came impetuously along, with sounds of merri- ment and idle jests ill suited to the gravity of the hour. One, however, there was who, though by no means of sedate disposition, partook but lightly of his comrade’s unseemly mirth, and many an eye was bent upon the handsome features and lofty brow of thé youth, as he passed along, and many a musical voice from the lips of beauty murmured the praises of Lucius Cominius—son ‘to the first dignitary and wealthiest nobleman of the city.

‘What, my Cominius—sulking, when all else are merry, laughingly exclaimed one of his companions, who had noticed the partial abstraction of thelr more jyouthful companion, not without wonder—for he was jusually as gay and light-hearted among his fritnds as he was brave and fearless in war. | ‘Nay, I do not sulk, kind Marcus,’ the young man re- iplied, ‘fam but wearied. We Herculaneans, thou ‘knowest, are ill accustomed to late hours, as aré ‘you of Pompeii.’

‘This is a poor excuse,’ said Marcus—a dissipated Pompeiian, with whom Cominius had spent the day in a manner which lent some coloring to his apology ; for he was unused to reveling, and his brain ached with the day’s unwonted excitement, ‘ I’ll wager, now, the cause jof thy melancholy lies deeper than the skin, gentle Cominius. What thiaks our Claudius here »

‘A bright eye is sometimes a fiercer weapon than the /sword, and a more deadly enemy to man’s peace than ithe wine-cup,’ retorted the latter, laconically.

It is probable Cominius might have replied to this rallying speech, had not the attentiongof the group been then directed to the figure of an old, palsy-stricken man, who, led by the hand by a lovely girl whose features were evidently those of another clime, had cast himself directly in their way. | ‘How now, greybeard! exclaimed Marcus, in angry jtone, * wouldst stop our way ? | ‘*Know’st thou we are men of rank and influence, ‘fool ? hiccoughed the friend ef Marcustoo deep in his ‘potations to distinguish whether it was epost or human being that he addressed. ‘Out of our way, knave, or our swords’ —

‘Hold! Marcus,’ interposed Cominius, thrusting him- self between his ¢ompanions and the old man—for he saw that they were about putting their threat into exe- cution.

‘Hold, Lentreat! See ye not the old man is blind?

‘So much the greater his folly, rejoined Mateus, ‘What business have blind men abroad in the dark 2?

‘Aye, what business” echoed his friend Claudius.

Cominius did not pause to argue with his companions, for he saw that they were already suffering under the influence of their deep and frequent potations. So, drawing the old man aside, he kindly inquired his wishes.

‘Alas! he replied, ‘I fear I have given offence, young gentleman, though the gods will bear me witness { meant it not.’

‘Thou hast not offended,’ said Cominixs.

‘Thanks,’ rejoined the other. ‘The question I have to esk is a simple one. Know’st thou the cause of al! this gathering ?

| }

;

|

‘To the lion! oh! no, not to the lion !’ almost scream. ed the young girl, starting forward, with a look €Xpres- sive of the deepest terror, while her father remained deprived of speech by these fearful words, standing where she had left him.

‘He is of kin to thee, then? gatively.

‘It matters not,’ put in the old man. good youth, his name ”

‘He is catled Ctesiphon, the Greek,’ “His parentage I know not.’

“Tis he, tts he—my poor boy ” groaned the old man, despondingly.

‘Come, father, come,’ suddenly exclaimed th resuming his hand. ‘Our doubts are dispelled tis he—see, the crowd is thinning—in a few m we shall be too late, and a}) will be Jost.’

‘I fear you will need some influence,’ said Cominins, staying them. ‘Thou seest some of the crowd are a). ready returning. With the exception of the reserved seats, ‘the Judgment Hall is full.’

‘ Alas! what is our course, then 2

‘I see but one way,’ said Cominius. ‘The son of the chief dignitary has the bestowal of the remaining places.’

* But how to see him ””

‘I will bring you to him if you wish.’

‘ And if he should refuse ”

‘I will guarantee that he shall no perhaps, not devoid of Cominius. ‘ Perhaps, Cases ; perhaps’—

‘Oh! Heaven! thou dost not say’—

‘Perhaps, I say, the captive may be freed—but this [ promise not.’ |

‘ Blessings on thee, stranger, for these words of hope ! An old man’s blessing may be nought on earth, but may avail hereafter.’

‘Come, we waste time,’ interrupted Cominius. ‘Let us haste—a few more minutes of delay might prove fatal.’ Saying which, he grasped the old man by the robe, and hurried him along, as fast as the latter’s bling- ness and thedarkness of the night would admit. A few moments brought them before the portals of the edifice wherein the trial was to be held. But the young gir! started back—affrighted at the crowd which filled the square,

‘It is impossible for us to enter here,’ she said.

‘Not so, fair one,’ answered their conductor; and raising his voice, he exclaimed—‘ Ho, there! room for the Pretor’s son! room for Lucius Cominivs and his friends.’ The effect was magica]. The densely packed crowd gave way at once, and through the lane thus formed, Cominius advanced tewards the entrance with his protogees. The lictors immediately lowered their spears, and made him grave obeisance as he passed. Without pausing to notice these demonstrations of the pepular favor, the youth pushed onward, still retaininc the old man’s robe, until they found themselves seated within the space appropriated to the friends of the ms- gistrates, which was placed immediately to ‘the left of the tribune—now occupied by the officers of the Jaw. During their passage Cominitts had borrowed of a citi- zen his cloak, and thus disguised he took his seat by the side of the fair damsel who accompanied him, and gazed with an interest second only to that evinced by his strange acquaintances, upon the painful scene. But ir the stern gaze of his father he saw no hope for the cap- tive, and he almest feared to envounter the Jook of the young Greek at his side, Jest the agony betrayed there- in should unman him.

They were just in time. The young man arraigned before them had offended against the peace, it would seem, by grievously injuring the Chief whose prisoner he was, and for this desperate offence—originating in the justifiable desire to effect tis own escape, he was tc be excluded from the general exchange, and his finely moulded limbs condemned to ghut the pleasures of the Amphitheatre.

Such was the sentence!

During its deliverance the oldman hung his ‘head in abject despair, while his daughter with bated breat!, and hands clasped firmly on her heart, as though to curb its vehement throbbings, leaned forward from her seat. and watched alternately the countenances of the judges and the face of the captive, until it seemed as if her eyes must inevitably burst their sockets. But when the remorseless sentence was fairly concluded, she gave one heart-breaking scream, and fell back senseless.

’ said Cominius, interro.

‘T pray thee,

was the reply.

e girl, » Dow: oments

ot, and I am one, influence with him,’ rejoined even I can interest him in your

* Assuredly, neurm,’

‘lam not of Herculaneum, nor of this country” ans- wered the old man. ‘Something, I own, I have heard,! but nought distinct. Thou may’st judge I have an jn- terest In the question—since I and my sweet child here jhave this day journeyed many a weary mile to get an answer,’

Ceminius gazed upon the old man while he spoke, and a sentiment of deep compassion, mingied with curi- osity, arose in his breast.—He looked also upon the daughter, and a momentary thrill passed over him as he

y, and ker faithfal devotion to her

I deemed it known to all in Hercula-

i ;

‘thought of her beaut S ‘The o¢casion is an whcommon one,’ said Cominius, when the old man had finished.—‘ A youth made captive in a recent seige is tried to-day, and if sufficient cause be found, (as, alas! [ fear there will) he will be con- demned to the liei’

be removed.’

‘Ho! lictors—silence yon rude wench—let her be removed!’ exélaimed the Pretor.

T'wo lictors stepped forward to obey the order, but she clung to them with elasped hands, and would not stir.

‘Nay, remove me not, I will be silent—I will no: again offend. Indeed I will not, she cried, imploring!*

Iler entreaties had no effect, however, and the lictors were about fulfilling their orders, when Lucius Com: nius+casting aside the disguise he had assumed—ros¢

and sternly waved them off.

‘They are my friends,’ he exclaimed, ‘and must not

Then; stepping into the open space, apportion of whick

was occupied by the captive and the soldiers who guarded him, he confronted the Priter.

- ~.

* My son!’ burst from the lips of the elder Cominiu What brings thee here at such a time ??

‘I come for justice, father, was the reply.

‘Justice? how! why !’