Lployed in his office: but of these |[ r . Corson only became intimate with IDo; namely, Mr. Rauch, a young H-errmn, who was one of the draughts men, and Mr. W. Baxter, son to the furator of the botanic garden at Ox ford, who was an amauuensis. Mr. j^orson's salary was a pound a-week, jU which he was engaged in Mr. jkoudWs office from eight in the coming till six, and he had to find his

i^a lodgings aud food, with the escep-

lonof some bread and cheese and beer, hich all the young men had at one

I'clock. .Notwithstanding his moder ate salary, and tho length of time he |ras occupied every day, young Corson

iow saw all bis wishes on the point of

jeing realised, and he immediately filtered a class of students in surgery

Mr. Dermott, of Charlotte

Street, Bloomsbury. He found, how ;ver, that, to enable him to pay the fees out of his small salary, it would )e necessary for him to practise the nosfc rigid economy; aud he accord- Ingly ate nothing but oatmeal porridge, which he made himself, in addition to the very moderate lunch which he ate at Bayswatcr. To increase hia funds, he also took in writing to do at night, ;after he had finished his medical Studies. A very strong constitution, land the most determined perservance, Jenabled him to continue these exertions Jfor two years ; during the whole of fwMch time he never took a single may's pleasure, or indulged himself fwith more than four hours' sleep in ileach night. It may also be added, lhat during this period, notwithstand ing the severity of his medical studies, [he" never neglected in the slightest fiegree Mr. Loudon's business ; and i that he always stayed his full time, of ifrom eight till six, in the office at j.Bayswater, where his indefatigable industry, joined to his quiet and amiable dispotition, rendered him a 'general favourite.

Eew young raea who have studied gingery under the most favourable circumstances have ever passed their examination with more credit than Mr. Coraon ; aud he was even praised by the examining surgeons for the very great care and attention with which he gave his answers. He had now so far attained the long desired object of his ambition, that he was a surgeon in England; but he was at a loss how to turn his newly attained honours to account, as he had no money to purchase a business, or even to fit up a surgery. In this dilemma Mr. Kaueh, the young German, with whom Mr. Corson had formed an acquainted at Mr. Loudou's, came to his assistance, and detailed trie circum stances of the case to a friend, who happened to be a ship-owner. ' I have no interest in the medical line on land, said this gentleman; ' but if the yonng Scotchman does not object to the sea, I think I could got him appointed surgeon to a South-Sea whaler ; and if he fs careful, he may possibly save £70 or £100 out of his pay during the three years the ship will be on her voyage, and that will be enough to set him up as a surgeon .anywhere. It may be easily be conceived that Mr. Corson made no objection to the sea, and, in fact, he sailed with Captain Benson, master of the Kitty, in the autuin of 1338.

Up to this time all had gone well with. Mr. Corsou. He had succeeded in every thing he undertook; and he had so nearly attained the summit of his ambition, that even those who had laughed at his projects as wild and impracticable, were compelled to own that all he had wished for lay almost within his grasp. The voyage out of the •whaler was also highly successful; and Corson not only fulfilled all the ordinary duties of his situation most satisfactorily, but on one occasion, when a seaman had had his leg laccerated by a shark, he had performed amputation in a masterly manner. Half the voyage hod been performed, and they were on their road homeward. Corson had made a collectection of plants for Mr. Loudon, and of shells, partly for his kind friend Mr. Bauch, and partly for Mr. Loudon; and he had, besides, asved upwards of £70 towards the £100 he was to aeumulate.

The remainder of the tale is soon to!rl. "While in the tropics, Mr. Covson had occupied himself in clearing the shells he had collected from the animals they contained ; and from fatigue, or perhaps from the noxions effluvia evolved by the decaying animals, he was taken ill of lever, which carried him oft' in fourteen days, lie died ou the 16th of June 1841/ in the twenty seventh year of his age, a striking illustration of what may be done by industry and perseverance.

Bridget's Device.

[Bridget1 Shanaha*, who is the hired girl in ;i house on .North Eleventh street is a proud girl to-day, partly becauae her mistress has presented her with a remarkably showy second-hand dress, and partly because of the exploit; which caused her mistress' generosity Bridget's mistress has a dog, a small, nglv poodie dog, which is regarded in the honsa nold with an affection proportioned to irs ugliness and it was as this dog's preserver that Bndgefc gained the dress Valued as the dog is, either from motives of economy or th-ougn negligence, theanimal hasnever been provided with a license, and its^escapes from dog-catcher have been narrow and frequent, lhe dog has a habit of sitting on .the side-walk m front of the house, and his enemy knows him well. There isn't a dog in the Eleventh ward the dog-catcher has been so determined to secure as that miser able little poodie, but all his endeavours to consummate a plan of capture have been futile. If the dog-catchor knows the doe so the dog knows the dog-cafcoher, and when ever the latter appeared in sight the poodie, with a whisk of its stumpy tail, has dived like a woodchuck fortho alley-way and so es caped. It was on yesterday that its vigi lance for the first time relaxed, and that the dog-eafceher would have made it a victim but for Bridget. Tns poodle was sitting on the cide-walk, as usual, and the dog-catcher on his morning round, noted the fact afar off and resolved to make amends for past ill-luck. Gliding aloag, slyly aad swiftly, close to the wall, he approached so near as to cut off the animals usual retreat, into the allay-way, and was preparing to cast; his noose when the poodle discovered him. Wii,h a wild yelp the dog bounded off in the opposite direction and dashed into tho open door of aa inclosed yard not attached to the house, the man in close pursuit. la that yard was Bridget, emptying aahes from the cook-stove, and the moment the dog ran in uttering notes of woe she took in tho entire situation. She had seen that; dog get away from the dog-catcher before. la an instant she had seized the animal, snd, clappiug him on the ground, held him firmly between her anklea, protect ed from aight by her extensive skirSs ; almost at the samo moment, the dog-catcher rushed into the yard. The man glanced about, saw that the dog could not escape, and addressed Bridget sternly : ' Where's that dog ? I want him.' Bridget with a hand on each hip, faced him squarely.

' Phat dog are yeea talkin' about ? Shure I know nothin' of the baste.

■. I tell you I want that poodle ! He came m here and could'nt have got out. Where have you put him.

' D,'^ m. ane *° BaylHe, ye dirthy blag gard 1 Go 'way wid yez, aa ' let a dacant gurrul alona !

Just then the little brute, hold firmly be tween Bridget's ankles, began to squirm, and Bridget to wabble about uneasily in the effort to hold him. Then from beneath her skirts, came a terrible yelping. ' There it is !' roared the dog-catehar. Gat out of tao w^y girl! He's yelping there, and I m going to have him !" 'The dog is it? Batuae me fate is it? Oh ye spalpeen ! On ya alanderia' bia«s»ard ! Its tne tquakm'av ms shoes ye hear ! Go 'way wid ycaa, or I'll acrame !' Ths dog-catcher approached firmly, hold ing hisn Jose : ofie next moment ths air was rent: with cries :

" Wud ye ba lazzoin' the legs o' me wid ycr wire ? An' me an unpurtected faymale ! I'll break yer head, ye murtherin villian ! Murther ! Misthress ! Murther ! Help ! Perlice ! Peri ice !'

The yard waa full of people in a minute. Public opinion was with the unprotected female arid against; the dog-catcher, compell ing the swift retirement; of the latter in the face of overwhelming odd.B, aad then Bridget drew forth the pojilo triumphantly aad carri edhimintothohouae, remarking incidentally : ' He's chawed rue stoching clane up to me garter, begorra !"

DREAMINGS.

Memory o'er the past is sweeping ; When all nature was in tune, Warbled forth the birds their sweetest Songs, in merry month of Juno. Wandered I, a child of summer, Gathering lilies in the stream. Ah ! those days come as a shaddow— As some half forgotten dream. There the lilies sipped the water, Dripping with the sparkling dew ; O'er my fancy comes this picture, Veiled in soft midsummer's hue. Is this stream still (lowing onward ? Arc the lilie3 growing there ? Do the birds sing out their sweetest Motes, upon the evening air ? Do the insects from the meadow Join this wooing choral straiu ? All these songs sweet memory brings me— Shall they ever como again ? Floating o'er the air so distant Sounds the shepherd's little boll ; All was tuned to Jove'a own music In that lone secluded dell.

Bending o'er these limpid wafers, When far removed from buoy strife, Resting in my arms so loving Ah ! one dearer than my life.

Tirae has wrought it 3 shades of sadness; Love's bright flowers no longer bloom ; All is wrapped in earth's cold silence— Hid beneath the silent tomb. White as the lily so she faded, With folded hands upon her braest; As died the early summer flowers, Softly we lay her down to rest.

The few men .who are still earneat advo cates of the theory that larger beer does not intoxicate, still cling fondly to the good old custom of winding the clock at 2 A m. with a hair brush.

When old Mrs. Cad by read that " lace f tills are put oil both edges of black velvet dog collars, she laid down the paper and exclaimed : " .Did anybody ever hear of such foolishness ! Why next they'll be putting gold breastpins and striped stockings ou dogs !

WHY DO THEY" DIE?

BY WILLIAM FORSYTH,

I?r the fresh glow of beauty, the first flash of light, Should the day-dawn be swathed in the shaddows of night, And the star of the morning pass fruitless asvay, And break to the fair earth its promise of day? Ah no ! Then why fade thus the lovliest flowers ! Oh why do the young and the beautiful die, liire they drink of the rapture of summer's - sweefc hours, Ere the browjhath a cloud or the bosom a sigh ? They spring like young; fountains—as pure and as free, To freshen the earth where their pathways may be ; They lighten the cofc, and they gladden the hall, In every land beamiug—tho loved ones of all. But, alas I there are gems on tha night shrouded earth, Only lit by the stars of you ambient sky ; The gathering cloud quenches their light at its birth, And like these do the young and the beauti ful die. With holy love gazing through summer-lit eyes, The free falcon-glance where no faithlessness lies, The glad tones of laughter, the song, ;. ud the smile, And low gentle voice that each care can be guile ; They come in the beauty of shaddowiess truth, Bringing flowers to the green tree, and leaves to the bare ; They circle their brows with the bright dreams of youth, Like the gf rlanded dreamers, as fleeting as fair.

Oh, could not earth foster such flowers where they grew,

With its love like the sunshine, and tears lide the dew; Oh, could not hope strengthen, nor watchful ness bind, Nor the ahaddows of sorrow that brooded behind, Detain them—the loved ones ? Ah no ! Day by day, We list for some footfall in vain at the door ;

Their voices of joy from some hearth pass away, And the woodlands re-ocho their laughter no more. Ba hushed! They are happy who die in their youth, With their bosoms untainted, unspotted their truth, Ere they feel tha rude burden of earth's many ills. Where misery saddeas, and hoartlessness chills.

Though, like heaven's own visions, they come

and depart, And leave nob a trace to the lovingsat eye, In the faith, and the love, and the hopo of

the heart, Eternally dwelling, they never can die,

Mishaps of a Young German.

A TRUE STORY,

In the year 1700, Alexander Facqz, Viscount de Honig, a young aad enthusiastic German, determined to see the world, and acquire in the course of a few months a quantity of knowledge sufficient to last him the rest of his life. Leaving his mother's house in Suabia, he repaired first to Paris, for the purpose of trotting same insight, if possible, into the French Revolution, which was then going on ; but chancing shortly after his arrival to meet with a commercial friend who was on iho point of setting out for London, he resolved to accompany him to that capital. The great metropolis afforded him occupation for some time; but at lenght beginning to think that he bad exhausted London, and having heard much about the sister island, he resolved to pay a visit to Dublin. An essential preliminary to his trip was the receipt of a remittance from his mother. This having been written for and procured, the month of March 1791 found him walking idly up and down the streets of Dublin, looking at Irish sights with German eyes, and forming from all that he saw the most German conclusions. Somehow or other, however, his money wore away much faster then he wished; and he soon found it necessary to send another letter to his mother, requesting the too-indulgent lady to forward him a second- remittance. Living in lodgings in expectation of money is at no time a very agreeable predicament, whether in Dublin or any where else ; and in the year 1791, the transmission of letters, and especially of money letters, between this country and the continent, was attended with even greater risk than in these days of more correct management. Our young Gor man waited and waited on, but the money never came. He told his landlord the true state of the case, and. for a while his gentlemanly manners, his young honest liko face, and his interesting foreign accent, operated in his favour. The landlady would not allow the landlord to use him ill. Still, landladies are but human beings, and there are limits to the power of a lodger's face in attesting his promises of payment; and at length, after the bill had run up to a considerable amount, the laudlady went over to her husband's way of thinking, and our young Germau was arrested for the debt and thrown into prison. ' A situation more drcaiful can scarcely be conceived,' a novelist would say; and without going quite so far as this, we can well believe that, for a young German of birth and education, who had left his

country to acquire a knowledge of men and manners, thus to find himself locked up in a Dublin prison, was somewhat unexpected, and certainly anything but pleasant.

A Dublin prison of the old school was quite a different thing from its modern representative. There was no obligation by law to support prisoners for debt; and there were cases in which such prisoners were supposed to have died of want, and many more in which deaths from want would have occurred, but for tho charity of fellow-prisoners. Our hero's only hope lay in the expected arrival of his mother's long-delayed remittance. Alas ! the remittance had miscarried. The viscount had made no secret of his expectation of a money letter ; and Then a bill drawn on a house in Dublin was addressed to him from London, some evil-disposed persons had managed to get possession of it, and feloniously converted it into cash. It was not till a month after, that the vis count received another letter, apprising him that the money had been sent. Why he did not pursue tho parties for forgery, or at least compel the payers of the bill to do so, and by that moans recover the amount, is not stated. The circumstances of being as tranger, and poor, may perhaps explain what is otherwise so unaccoun table. Be this as it may, this unfortunate and, as we must pronounce kirn, heedless young man, would have cerished for want in prison but for the compassion of his fellow-captives. His case was so peculiar, and his appearenco so unusually interesting, that a prepossession was soon established in his favour, so strong, indeed that they not only supported him by their charity in prison, but even set on foot a subscription for the purpose of discharging hsi small debt, and setting him at liberty. But here was another difficulty. What was he to do when he got out of prison, without any money in his pocket ? Any ordinary person, with hands accustomed to work, and a mind used to buffet the world, would have found no difliiculty whatever ; would have launched out of prison and exerted himself nobly ; but to our languid and lugubrious German, with his white hands and inactive disposition, there seemed no resource whatever. He thought himself positively the most wretched man on the face of the earth, and when he looked out at the prison window, it was with the sickly feeling of a man who, never having had to rely upon himself, could not conceive how locomo tion was possible in this world without money, nor how money was procurable in any other Wdy than by asking one's mother for it. Accordingly, a letter was despatched to his mother acquainting her with h?'s situation, and begging an immediate remittance; and in the mean time he remained in prison, and shared the bounty of Mr Favecet and Monsieur Lafontaine, two debt-prisoners who had taken a particular fancy to the unhappy foreigner.

Sunk pretty nearly to the verge of despair, in an evil hour temptation triumphed over the integrity of the weakly young man. About this time considerable sums were raised in England and Ireland by benevolent persons for the benefit of the French refugees ; and it was sugges ted to Facqz, that, by representing him self to be a French refugee, he might obtain a sum of money sufficient to maintain him for some time, and so put an end to all his difficulties. It would be only » sort of loan; lie could repay the money afterwards. So spake necessity; and our young hero had too yielding a constitution to resist the temptation. Having procured the money under the false pretence of being a French refugee ho prepared to leave prison and yo in search of a lodging, It so happened that two men, who had been in the habit of visiting a friend in the Marshalson. and who had become acquainted with Facqz, offered to accompany him, and find out a cheap and suitable lodging. Their names were James Jones and Thomas Neville. Seeking a lodging is a sore trial to any body ; greater men then our hero have sunk under it. It is an art oniy to be acquired by long practice; and it was with no small delight that Facqz accepted the kind offer of bis two acquaintances to put him on tho right track. Away went the three friends to seek lodgings. This street and that street were tried; this knocker knocked, and that bell rung ; here a little slattern girl came to the door with a thin squeaking voice, there a huge dirty landlady; still the right place was nob found. At last they came to a house wite Mr James P on the door-plate. Here surely was a respectable house ; quite the thing that was wanted. Mr Jones, who seems to have boon the obliging spokesman of the party, said they would be oblidged to Mrs P for a sight of the rooms upstairs. By all means, said the lady; and so Jones and Facqz proceeded on their exploratory tour of the apartments. Neville, declined to ascend. He was very much fatigued, and begged to be allowed to take a seat in the parlour till his friends came down. This arrange ment being quite agreeable to all parties, Mr Neville seated himself in toe room below, and before the return of Jones and Facqz, he contrived with little difficulty to appropriate a watch which hung over the mantelpiece. Something was wrong about the lodgings, and the party left the house; but hardly had they proceeded twenty paces when an alarm was raised. They were pursued and captured, and the watch found on Neville's person. On the sth of October 1791, they were tired before the recorder and magistrates ot

Dublin. Facgz, of course,, protested his innoceii^G, and no doubt ha was innocent. But 1 " been in the company of two notori . .vindlers, and to all appearance a coadjutor in the crime ! and to crowu his misfortune, it was now shown that he was a German, and not a Frenchman, as he had formerly declared himself to be. JN"o man, it was argued, could be an honest man, who had committed such a deliberate falsehood. Influenced by these considera tions, the jury included Facqz in the guilt of watch-stealing, and along with his two acquaintances he received sentence of transportation.

Behold our poor languid hero a^ain in prison, and this time not for dobt, but for felony, and waiting transportation. The mere imprisonment in such a place; would have been punishment enough for the greatest crimes. There was then no established system of prisoa discipline; the prisoners were left to the tender mercies of the turnkeys ; and those who could not bribe them, suffered the harshest treatment. Facqz had no money, and he became one of the victims.

In these dark days Mr Samuel Eos borough was the Howard of Ireland. Tho poor forgotten prisoners were his peculiar charge. For twenty years he had been accustomed to visit the prisons, rendering assistance to those who had no other friend. Facqz had heard of his name and character ; and in the depths cf his despair sent him the following letter :—

' Sic—From the many acts of generous kindness dove by you to the unfortunate in this prison, I am induced to hope you will suffer my present melancholy tale to be heard by you, and interfere in my behalf.

'I am under the dreadful sentence of transportation, charged with committing a crime at which my nature rovoli s. To enter, however, upon any justification of myself at this time is not my object. From the 7th of this month, I have been lying in a cell, loaded with irons, which have been put on by Mr Walsh the turn key, when he knew I had no money to give him. Well knowing you will not suffer me to remain any longer in this loathsome place without your merciful interferance, shall look with anxious expectation for you.

' During these five last days, ray mind has enjoyed a calm by attentively listening co the prayers of an unfortunate man in the next cell, who, I hear, is shortly to suffer death. Oh that I were so near that period, for then I would be released from my sufferings !

' Excuse this freedom, and permit me, in addition to my fervent prayers for your welfare, to subscribe myself—Your most obedient and devoted servant,

October 20, 1791

Alexk. Facqz.'

Mr liosborough immediately visited him ; and his interference had the eifect of procuring him better treatment. The poor prisoner began to hope that the same benevolence might be of use in procuring his release ; and accordingly he seat many letters to Mr Kos borough, giving an account of himself, his previous mishaps in Dublin, and the manner in which he had been brought into his present situation. A pirson possessed of more sense would have told his story in a plain, straight forward, matter-of-fact way; but our young German's letters to Mr iiosborougn were so fanciful, so sentimental, and so (uilofols, and ahs, and adjectives, that the good philanthropist read them with considerable distrust At length., however, owing to the considerate interposition of Mr Lafontaine, who bad now left prison, and who had procured some knowledge of the viscount's family, Mr liosborough was induced to listen to what. Facqz told him, aad to attribute the sentimentalism of his letters to their right cause—namely, to his being a German, and one of weak character. ' Fi'om me,' wrote Facqz to him, 'you dissipate every gloom, aad cheer and vivify my whole soul. May you long live to enjoy that ennobling virtue which alone gives dignity. May every instant of banevoionce and humanity shown by you in this and every other place, be blessed with success ; and when the hoar-frost of winter's age shall bes prinkle your head, and the divine lamp of life yield its last gleam, may you enjoy that felicity which is the portion allotted by him who said 'I was in prison and ye visited me.' I have requested Mr Lafon tfune to call on you. He will tell you who I am. If not redeemed from this horrible place, I shall perish. Mine eyes can scarce see what I have written ; they are sore with weeping; my head aches for want of vest, and mine ears are tormented with hearing blasphemies. Oh that I had never been born, then I should be a stranger to such 3 place as this !' Moved by these waitings, and by his otii innate benevolence, Mr liosboroucrh did make some interest with the recorder in the youna man's behalf. But the sad fact of his having passed himself off as a French refugee, and obtained money oa false pretences, again rose Tip against him j for the recorder himself had been connec ted with the management of the refugee fund. Nothing could be done for such a person, and a^ain Mr. liosborough gave him up. Oh that terrible falsehood !

Meanwhile, poor F>icqz had been flunk ing of another way of effecting his escape. He had heard that mono? could do it, and he had written pressing]/ to Germany fop money. Many wonderful escapes had been effected from the prison about this time, and the mode of which was not discovered till afterwards. The principal agents iv these escapes was the head"

EVENING STAR SUPPLEMENT, OCTOBER 14, 1876.