But what becomes of the old wigs? is the question at issue.  Alas! again, such is the degeneracy of modern days, that, instead of being used as an appendage to the toilet, though humble, I fear they will be traced to the vulgar bricklayer and plasterer, to be mingled with mortar, and “patch a wall, to expel the winter’s flaw.”  Now, I believe, every particle is accounted for; and any little article, in the shape of a bijou, is the perquisite of those pickers-up of unconsidered trifles, the sifters.

Monthly Magazine.

    [3] It was a dispute between a dustman and a sifter, as to which had
        the most rightful claim to a five-pound note, found in the ashes;
        and certainly nothing could be more impartially decided; for
        as their claims, or rather their non-claims, turned out to be
        equal—­that is, in point of law—­it was retained by the presiding
        magistrate in trust.  In the course of the inquiry, it appeared
        that the sifter had realized sufficient property to enable her to
        be proprietress of three houses.

* * * * *

THE SELECTOR, AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

* * * * *

NAPOLEON’S DIVORCE.

Communication of his Intention to Josephine.

I was on duty at the Tuilleries from Monday, November 27; on that day, the Tuesday and Wednesday following, it was easy for me to observe a great alteration in the features of the empress, and a silent constraint in Napoleon.  If in the course of dinner he broke the silence, it was to ask me some brief questions, to which he did not hear the reply.  On those days the dinner did not last for more than ten minutes.  The storm burst on Thursday the 30th.

Their majesties went to table.  Josephine wore a large white hat, tied under her chin, and which concealed part of her face.  I thought, however, that I perceived she had been weeping, and that she then restrained her tears with difficulty.  She appeared to me the image of grief and of despair.  The most profound silence reigned throughout the dinner; and they only touched the dishes which were presented to them out of mere form.  The only words uttered were those addressed to me by Napoleon:  “What o’clock is it?” In pronouncing them, he rose from table.  Josephine followed slowly.  Coffee was served, and Napoleon took himself the cup which was held by the page on duty, and gave the sign that he wished to be alone.  I immediately retired, but restless, and a prey to my sad thoughts, I sat down in the attendance-room, which was commonly used for their majesties to dine in, in an armchair, on the side of which was the door to the emperor’s room.  I was mechanically watching the servants who were clearing the table, when on a sudden I heard violent cries from the empress Josephine issue from