It was the wedding day of Mr. and Mrs. Terry, (I mean the _actual_, not the anniversary wedding-day,) and the jocund bridegroom, bride, and their guests were assembled about noon in the drawing-room, when a servant entered, and said a gentleman had called, and wished to speak to Mr. T.; that he was waiting below stairs, and would not come up, because he came upon very particular business. Mr. Terry, desiring his company to excuse him for a few minutes, quitted the room. One hour elapsed--no bridegroom; two hours--he did not appear;--three--four--he was not returned: the bride's mind misgave her, and the hymeneal guests were quite alarmed: the servants declared that they had seen their master and the gentleman walk into the garden, from whence they were not returned. Now, a high brick wall, in which there was no outlet, and over which no person could climb except by a ladder, enclosed the garden, which, when searched, was empty, whilst, at the same time, Mr. Terry and his _friend_, "_the gentleman_," could not have walked out at the hall-door without being, from its situation, seen and heard by the servants in the kitchen. Time fled--and he did not return--no!--and although his lady lived to be nearly ninety years of age, she _never_ gained tidings again of the spouse, thus so mysteriously spirited away! _Raising the Wind._ The superstitions of sailors are not few, as those assert who are conversant in maritime affairs. Amongst others, is the custom, pretty well known, of _whistling for a wind_. A gentleman told me, that, on his first voyage, being then very young, and ignorant of sea usages, he was in the habit of walking the deck a great deal, "and whistling as he went," perhaps "for want of thought"--perhaps for lack of something better to do. Shortly, he fancied that the captain of the vessel seemed not a little annoyed whenever this took place, although he kept a respectful silence upon the subject. At length Mr. ---- resolved to speak to him himself: and, accordingly, one day, when it blew a pretty brisk gale, said, "I observe, captain, that you appear particularly uneasy whenever I whistle."--"To say the truth, sir, I _am_ just _now_," replied he. "On a fair, still day, whistle as much as you please; but, when there is a wind like this, _we don't like to have any more called._"--_New London Literary Gaz._ * * * * * THE SELECTOR AND LITERARY NOTICES OF _NEW WORKS._ * * * * * A PHILOSOPHICAL KITCHEN. A romantic and ludicrous novel has just appeared, entitled "The Mummy, or Tale of the Twenty-second Century," exhibiting some of the probable results of "the march of intellect;" and of the pungency of its satire the following is a fair specimen, describing a kitchen in the twenty-second century:--