In the mean time, knots of travellers were congregating round the different vehicles about to depart.  In the centre of each little band stood the main point of attraction—­Monsieur le Conducteur—­that important personage, whose prototype we look for in vain among the dignitaries of Lad-lane, or the Bull-and-Mouth, and whose very name can only be translated by borrowing one of Mr. M’Adam’s titles—­“the Colossus of Roads.”  With fur cap, official garb, and the excursive eye of a martinet, he inspects every detail of preparation—­sees each passenger stowed seriatim in his special place—­then takes his position in front—­gives the word to his jack-booted vice, whose responsive whip cracks assent—­and away rolls the ponderous machine, with all the rumbling majesty of a three-decker from off the stocks.—­Monthly Magazine.

* * * * *

EPIGRAM.

THE RETORT MEDICAL.

  Quoth Doctor Squill of Ponder’s End,
  “Of all the patients I attend,
    Whate’er their aches or ails,
  None ever will my fame attack.” 
    “None ever can,” retorted Jack: 
  “For dead men tell no tales”
          New Monthly Magazine.

* * * * *

THE SELECTOR, AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

* * * * *

CIRCASSIAN WOMEN.

We observed two women looking out of a balcony, and earnestly beckoning to us.  We were the more surprised at their appearance, as we believed that the Mahometan women of the Caucasus, like those of Persia, were strictly confined to the interior of their houses, or that, at all events, they never went unveiled, a custom which we found was not general among the inhabitants of the Caucasus.  We, however, entered the house, and saw in the court two Russian grenadiers, who, by a mistake of their corporal, had taken there quarters here, and whose presence was the cause of the inquietude manifested by the two ladies, who, with an old man, were the only inhabitants of the house.  Whilst the soldiers were explaining these things to us, they appeared at the top of the stairs, and again renewed their invitation by violent gesticulations.  On a nearer approach, we guessed by their age that they were mother and daughter.  The former, who still preserved much of the freshness and beauty of youth, wore very tight trousers, a short tunic, and a veil, which fell in graceful folds on her back, while round her neck she had some valuable jewels, though badly mounted.  With respect to the daughter, who was scarcely fifteen years of age, she was so extraordinarily beautiful, that both my companion and myself remained awhile motionless, and struck with admiration.  Never in my life have I seen a more perfect form.  Her dress consisted of a short white tunic, almost transparent, fastened only at the throat