The whole academy were affected at this contretems; they had received a little before, as member, a court wit, whose eloquence, light and lively, was the admiration of the populace, and saw themselves obliged to refuse Doctor Zeb, who was the very scourge of chatterers, and with a head so well formed and furnished.

The president, whose place it was to announce to the doctor the disagreeable news, knew not what to resolve on.  After having thought a little he filled a large cup with water, and that so very full, that one drop more would have made it spill over.  Then he made the sign that they might introduce the candidate.  He appeared with that modest and simple air which always accompanies true merit.  The president rose, and without saying a word, he pointed out to him with an afflicted air, the emblematic cup, the cup so exactly full.  The doctor apprehended the meaning that there was no room for him in the academy; but taking courage, he thought to make them understand that an academician supernumerary would derange nothing.  Therefore, seeing at his feet a rose leaf, he picked it up and laid it delicately on the surface of the water, and that so gently, that not a single drop escaped.

At this ingenious answer they were all full of admiration, and in spite of rules, Doctor Zeb was admitted with acclamation.

They directly presented to him the register of the academy in which they inscribed their names on their admission, and the doctor having done so, nothing more remained than to thank them in a few words according to custom.  But Doctor Zeb, as a truly silent academician, thanked them without saying a word.  He wrote on the margin the number 100, which was the number of his new brethren, and then placing a cipher before the figure (0100) he wrote beneath “Their worth is neither less nor more.”  The president answered the modest doctor with as much politeness as presence of mind:  he put the figure 1 before the number 100, and wrote (1100) “They are ten times what they were before.”

Dorset.  COLBOURNE.

* * * * *

THE TOPOGRAPHER.

TRAVELLING NOTES IN SOUTH WALES.

Vale of Tawy—­Copper Works, &c.—­Coal Trade.—­In our former paper[2] we gave a description of the Vale of Tawy, as it appears by night; we will now again revisit it.  The stranger who explores this vale must expect to return with a bad headache.  We have described it as a desolate looking place, when seen at night, but the darkness only throws a veil over its barrenness.  The face of the country, which would otherwise have been beautiful, is literally scorched by the desolating effects of the copper smoke; and when it is considered that a multitude of flues are constantly emitting smoke and flames strongly impregnated with sulphur, arsenic, &c., it is not to be wondered at.  A canal runs