of outraged feeling that needs no comment. It has been truly said that ridicule is more bitterly resented and more rarely forgiven than injury. The indulgence of a satiric humor, in some words spoken in jest by Suwarrow, is said to have piqued Paul so much that he took a cruel revenge. The rage of the emperor for the introduction of German fashions was so great, that he determined to have the German uniform adopted in the army. When old Marshal Suwarrow got orders to introduce this uniform, and received little sticks for measures and models of the soldiers tails and side-curls, "Hair-powder," said he, "is not gunpowder, curls are not cannons, and tails are not bayonets." This, in the Russian language, falls into rhyme, and soon spread as a saying through the army: and having reached the emperor's ears, is said, in _The Secret Memoirs of the Russian Court_, to have been "_the true_ cause which induced Paul to recall Suwarrow and dispense with his services." The genius of Suwarrow was superior to every difficulty, and led him to fame and honors such as few have ever attained. Though born of a good family, he had neither money nor interest to advance him, but pushed his own fortunes from his boyhood. He rose to the rank of colonel when he was but twenty-nine. He was nominated general-in-chief for having compelled the Tartars to submit to the Russian arms. He was created a count, and obtained the surname of Rimnisky for a victory over the Turks near the river Rimnisky, by which he saved the Prince of Saxe Coburg and the imperial army. For his services in Poland he was made a field-marshal, and received the grant of an estate. In the year 1799 the title of Prince Italisky was conferred. This was the last favor shown: the following year saw him laid in the grave. * * * * * FROM DICKENS'S HOUSEHOLD WORDS. "PRESS ON." A RIVULET'S SONG. "Just under an island, 'midst rushes and moss, I was born of a rock-spring, and dew: I was shaded by trees, whose branches and leaves Ne'er suffered the sun to gaze through. "I wandered around the steep brow of a hill, Where the daisies and violets fair Were shaking the mist from their wakening eyes, And pouring their breath on the air. "Then I crept gently on, and I moistened the feet Of a shrub which infolded a nest-- The bird in return sang his merriest song, And showed me his feathery crest. "How joyous I felt in the bright afternoon, When the sun, riding off in the west, Came out in red gold from behind the green trees And burnished ray tremulous breast! "My memory now can return to the time When the breeze murmured low plaintive tones, While I wasted the day in dancing away, Or playing with pebbles and stones. "It points to the hour when the rain pattered down, Oft resting awhile in the trees; Then quickly descending it ruffled my calm, And whispered to me of the seas!