The Rev. No. 354, writing from Dartmoor, requests us to inform his numerous friends in Bath and elsewhere that his health is much improved by the bracing air, and that he is occupied in revising for the press his course of Sermons to the Young on the Moral Virtues.  He is also anxious to inform his creditors that his accounts are now completely in order.  It is a source of great comfort to him to reflect that he was able to obtain considerable sums of money from his friends in Bath, before he was obliged to leave that city, and that, with the residue of this money, obtained so to speak from PETER, he will now have the satisfaction of paying a farthing in the pound to PAUL, in other words, to his creditors.

Mrs. BRINVILLIERS was yesterday visited by her friends.  Our readers will be glad to know that she is quite well and has escaped the influenza epidemic.

Mr. ST. LEONARDS, with the consent of the Governor, takes this opportunity of thanking the friends who have so kindly condoled with him on the unavoidable interruption to his long and arduous work in the service of his country.  He hopes that nothing will prevent him from displaying equal zeal in the still more arduous labour, which, also for the benefit of his country, he is now compelled to undertake for a certain period.

Miss DODGER is still unwell.  The HOME SECRETARY has not yet sent instructions for a special drawing-room to be fitted up in the prison, nor has he, up till now, given any permission for Miss DODGER’s afternoon receptions, and five o’clock teas.  It is generally considered that the probability of his doing so, without a Special Act of Parliament, is still very remote.

* * * * *

BROKEN BONDS.

["I learn from St. Petersburg, that, last Saturday, conferences were begun between Russia and Germany on the admission of the former to the new commercial treaties.”—­The Times Paris Correspondent on “Russia and the Central Commercial League."]

La Belle France, the Forsaken One, loquitur:—­

  What do I hear?  Oh, do I hear aright,
    Over the garden wall? 
  My latest love, my gallant Muscovite,
    Is this the end, this all? 
  My heartbeats fast, a mist obscures my sight. 
    Support me, or I fall!

  What can he mean?  Whatever is she at?—­
    Ah! well I know her game! 
  GERMANIA is a vile coquette, a cat. 
    Seducing my new flame
  With mercenary lures, and low at that! 
    It is a cruel shame!

  But six short months ago and I to him
    Indeed seemed all in all. 
  A stalwart lover, though tant soit peu grim,
    I fancied him my thrall. 
  And was it after all pretence, or whim? 
    Oh, prospect, to appal!

  I know my envious rivals said as much,[1]
    But that I deemed their spite,
  Was’t but my money he desired to clutch? 
    I lent it—­with delight! 
  Were his mere venal vows?  His bonds but such
    As SAMSON snapped at sight?