followed by a troop of boys into a morass, where he was kept so long,
that the cold penetrated his debilitated limbs, which became contracted
in such a manner, that he used to compare his body to the shape of a Z.
He died in 1660, at the age of fifty; he said to his friends who
surrounded his dying bed, "I shall never make you weep so much as I have
made you laugh." In his epitaph, made by himself, he desires, in a
mixture of the comic and the pathetic, that the passengers would not
awaken, by their noise, poor Scarron from the first good sleep he had
ever enjoyed.

P.T.W.

* * * * *



THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF _NEW WORKS_.


LEGENDS OF THE LAKES; OR, SAYINGS AND DOINGS AT KILLARNEY.

_By T. Crofton Croker, Esq._


Two volumes of "tickling" legendary tales are almost too much for our
laughter-holding sides, but more especially at this merry
season--fraught with humour--and when reminiscences of the past make up
for lack of realities of the present. To "notice" such a work is ten
times more (we had almost said) trouble than to despatch half a dozen
dull books, or a dozen harmless, well-meaning satires on human nature.