'Ah joli!--Dios guarda!--Diavolo!--and Tousand Teufel!' repeated Mademoiselle Pas Seul, Don Stiletto, Count Capricornuto, and Baron Bludenuff. It was too bad--it was not to be borne. I grew angry. 'Sir!'--said I to the Baron--'you are a baboon.' 'Sir!'--replied he, after a pause,--'Donner and Blitzen!' This was sufficient. The next morning I shot off his nose at six o'clock, and then called upon my friends. 'Bête!'--said the first. 'Fool!'--said the second. 'Ninny!'--said the third. 'Dolt!'--said the fourth. 'Noodle!'--said the fifth. 'Ass!'--said the sixth. 'Be off!'--said the seventh. At all this I felt mortified, and called upon my father. 'Father'--I said--'what is the chief end of my existence!' 'My son'--he replied--'it is still the study of Nosology. But in hitting the Baron's nose you have overshot your mark. You have a fine nose it is true, but then Bludenuff has none. You are d----d, and he has become the Lion of the day. In Fum-Fudge great is a Lion with a proboscis, but greater by far is a Lion with no proboscis at all.' For the Southern Literary Messenger. LIONEL GRANBY. CHAP. I. What am I? how produced, and for what end? Whence drew I being? to what period tend? _Artbuthnot_. My name is Lionel Granby. I was the second and youngest son of the Honorable Edmund Granby, a gentleman distinguished for his polished education and stately aristocracy. The earliest associations of my eventful life, steal from memory more of joyousness than of pain; and gathering in a gilded horizon of light around the darkness of my destiny, they whisper a consolation which despair cannot efface, nor misfortune obliterate.