"When Julius Caesar reigned king, About my neck he put this ring, That whosoever did me take, Should spare my life for Caesar's sake." It thus appears that _Julius_ Caesar is gratuitously introduced by the English paraphrast, nothing appearing in the original inscription to determine its application, or render it more probable, that the reference should be to Julius Caesar, than to Domitian; and the two first lines given by _Ruris_, have evidently been introduced by way of transferring the subject to our own country. Allow me before concluding this communication, one word in reply to E.D.'s observations on the "Cat and Fiddle." It is not impossible that some resemblance (though I am disposed to think it very trifling) may exist between the "tones of a _flute_" and those of "the human voice;" but I have yet to learn wherein consists the similarity of the notes of the clarinet and those of a "GOOSE;" neither do I imagine performers on the violin, (especially Italians,) will feel themselves obliged by E.D.'s comparison of their favourite instrument, to the vile squall of the feline race. On the whole, I should feel more disposed to concur with him who "has been led away by a love of etymology" that the "Cat and Fiddle" is an "anomalous" sign, and that "no two objects in the world have less to do with each other than a cat and a violin," than to adopt the opposite theories of E.D. or his predecessor, unless better supported than they are at present. IOTA. * * * * * THE SKETCH-BOOK. * * * * * RECOLLECTIONS OF A WANDERER. _The Wreck._[1] _(For the Mirror.)_ All night the booming minute-gun Had pealed along the deep, And mournfully the rising sun Look'd o'er the tide-worn steep, A bark from India's coral strand, Before the rushing blast, Had vailed her topsails to the sand And bowed her noble mast. The Queenly ship! brave hearts had striven And true ones died with her! We saw her mighty cable riven, Like floating gossamer! We saw her proud flag struck that morn, A star once o'er the seas, Her helm beat down, her deck uptorn, And sadder things than these! MRS. HEMANS Sweet romantic Cove of Torwich--repository of my youth's recollections!--A mingled gust of feeling crosses over me, rainbow-like,--fraught with the checkered remembrances of "life's eventful history," when I turn to the past, and glance over the scenes of my early life.