Officer." Silence là haut!"

David hung down his head, and gnashed his

teeth.

R-to David.-" Nous, nous vengerons." Magistrate to R.-"If you speak one word more, I'll give you a week's imprisonment." This was a quietus.

Magistrate to Susanne C.-"Did David or Nannette see you after this?"

Susanne C.- Oui, monsieur." Magistrate.- —“What did they say?" Susanne C.-"They told me what they were going to do; and they promised me a new dress if I would come forward and say I was at Cour, or invent anything that would not compromise them being at Lutry. I replied, he might keep his dress; for if I was called upon, I would tell the plain truth. I would not tell a falsehood for anybody."

Magistrate." Well, what followed? Susanne C.-" David and Nannette went to my aunt, near Vevay, and coaxed her to get me to spend a fortnight with her, to help her. I went. After that, I had another invitation to the house of a friend near Bulle,-and there I was when the officer came and found me. I have not received anything for coming here. I have not been promised anything by Bombyx, nor by any one else. Of course I expect my expenses to be paid here and home again."

Magistrate." C'est bien juste. Now, Henry, come forward and look at your cousin. How dare you say you went with your mother to the Pinte?" Henry." Pardonnez moi, monsieur le juge: pardon! C'est le père qui m'a forçé de le dire. Il a juré qu'il m'enfermerait dans la cave pendant, quinze jours, et ne me donnerait rien que du pain sec, si je ne disais pas ce qu' il desirait."

"Eh miserable! que tu es," grumbled David, "de vendre ainsi ton père et ta mère." Magistrate to R. C.-"Come forward, sir, and look at your sister."

R. C.-" Je n'ai pas besoin de la voir." Magistrate." Do as I tell you, sir." (R. C advances, and casts a savage look at his sister, and then turns away.)

Magistrate." Now, sir, how could you declare you were in the Pinte? What could induce you to act as you have done? Were you, or were you not in the Pinte?"

R. C.-"Non, monsieur le juge." (Voices in the gallery: "A bas avec le vilain!) Others: "Allons nous debarrasser d'un pareil crapaud!" Magistrate." Silence! Officer." Silence là haut ! "

and you, David, how could you be guilty of such conduct-disgraceful to the name of a 'Vaudois' citizen? And you, Nannette, how could you act as you have done, actually forcing your own son to follow your base example? And you, Rand David, who have just sworn before your God to tell nothing but the truth!" (Not a word of reply-nay, not even a look, save that of detected villany and shame.) "As for you, witnesses, you have all more or less entered into a plot to injure a foreigner whom you were bound by every tie of hospitality to protect. You have plotted, too, to sully the character of Jean, one of the best of citizens. I can hardly trust myself to express my abhorrence of this shameful, this wicked affair. It is now my duty to visit it as it deserves. You, R, are to pay a fine of 300 francs, in addition to one month's imprisonment, for your gross and aggravated insult. You, David, the same. You, Nannette, R. C—, and H— each a week's imprisonment; and each of you others a fine of 25 francs. You, policeman, are sentenced to a month's imprisonment, and I have erased your name from the list of public officers. Observe, further, you are all of you separately and collectively bound "pour les fraix."

However, at the intercession of Bombyx and Jean, who saw nothing but total ruin in this (as the expenses were not far short of 500 francs), the punishment of imprisonment was, all but nominal, foregone, and a very considerable portion of the fines was remitted.

R— being obliged to dispose of his Pinte, it was purchased by a rich proprietor, whose property it joined; and it was converted by him into a home for his gardener. David received notice from his landlord to quit; and is gone I know not where. The policeman and David's brother wander about, getting work where they can. The remainder, generally speaking, are shunned and disliked by everybody; seeking occupation in quarters where they are little known.

Jean, alas! is no more. François is married to Bombyx's former cook, and has "settled" comfortably and I think I heard Bombyx say that Susanne C- is respectably married at Lutry.

:

Thus ends this first adventure with the policeman. I could have made it a great deal longer, and caused you many another roar of laughter, but I have so much more to tell you of other interesting matters noticed in my travels, that I forbear. My memory calls to mind scenes that I never can forget, and which I will bring before you anon, as vividly as the pen can narrate them. Oh, had you but been with us, my dear friend,-what games you would have witnessed! Well, you shall au revoir. Thine, mest affectionately, 'Tottenham, March 15.

R. C.-" Oui, monsieur le juge." Magistrate.-"How could you come forward and utter such wicked falsehoods ?"

R. C.-" Mon oncle et R., m'ont chacun offert deux pièces et autant de vin que je voulais pour faire marcher cette affaire.

R― (violently)" Eh! le Judas, je l'écraserai!" and, suiting the action to the word, jumped towards him, but was seized by an officer. After a brief pause, the magistrate proceeded to pass sentence upon the parties, first addressing

|

FINO.

P.S.-How inexpressibly lovely the country has become! I shall soon now be among the butterflies and rabbits from morning till night. Do come down and join in the hunt. [We will, FINO; and have such a jolly ramble together in those golden fields, and hedgerows skirted with daisies! At this season, we revive with the flowers, rise with the lark, run with the lambs, gambol with children in the meads and meadows, and sun our

self on every bank of primroses and violets that comes in the way of our happy feet. Nimble are we yet, as the nimblest, young as the youngest; and our heart-oh, Fino! if you could see our heart!-yearns for the company of those who can enter with us into the feelings inseparable from Spring; feelings pure and holy, such as no tongue can describe, but which are peculiar to all who are true lovers of nature. We would "live" now (if we could) in the open air, and turn our back upon towns, cities, cares, anxieties, and literary drudgery for ever!]

OUR MIRROR OF THE MONTHS. APRIL.

Now silvery streamlets, from the mountain stealing,
Dance joyously the verdant vales along.
Cold fear no more the songster's song is sealing,
Down in the thick dark grove is heard his song;
And all their bright and lovely hucs revealing,
A thousand plants the field and forest throng;
Light comes upon the earth in radiant showers,
And mingling rainbows play among the flowers.

WE ARE ALWAYS DELIGHTED when the time comes round for us to pen down a few of our thoughts on what is going on beyond the walls of cities. It must not be imagined that our life is one of pure sunshine; that we have no troubles, no cares, no sorrows, no anxieties, no perplexities. Alas! very many of these fall to our share; and though we may be imagined to be always gay, yet are the words of our favorite poet often in our mouth,

"I'm saddest when I sing." What a curious compound is man's existence! and the human heart,-what a puzzle!

The month of March has been an eventful month, as regards both public and private individuals. It has marked its progress in a manner never to be forgotten. Deaths innumerable (many of them fearfully sudden) have occurred where least expected. A friend, seen to day hearty and well, has on the morrow been stretched out a lifeless corpse. We have heard of bereavements out of number, leaving surviving families desolate and destitute. Sounds of sorrow have saddened our heart; scenes of misery have grieved our spirit. We have tried to sing; but our harp has been out of tune. We have tried to be merry; but "the time to mourn" has set aside that feeling. Thus has the past month been, with some sweet exceptions, a trying one to our usually volatile temperament. Would we were singular!

Yet have we not failed to wander abroad and note the passing objects peculiar to the season. We have seen the rooks building; and listened to their happy voices; we have seen little lambs, too, frisking about and enjoying themselves in the sun. We have regarded insect-life awakening from its torpor, and we have gazed intently on the opening flower, all creating in us feelings of

admiration and wonder. Then our little friends, the birds,-how busy they have been! How sweet the melody of their voices; and how unceasing the preparations for building their nests! Robins, thrushes, blackbirds,—all have eggs, and some have young ones.

What an ever-memorable day was the 12th of March! Was ever day more serenemore lovely? On that day we were in our element; and during a long ramble we experienced once again the joyousness of a heart alive to the expanding beauties of nature. It would fill a volume, were we to note down singly what came under our observation as we walked along. We saw, felt, and enjoyed everything that we beheld; and as all nature was "happy," WE could not be an exception. The gardens, too, during the month of March,-how wonderfully they progressed! How delightful it has been to see green things one by one bursting vigorously through the mould; and to observe, on warm sunny banks, dear little flowers nodding to us with the familiarity of old friends! Pensively sad,-pleasingly happy have we been, whilst greeting these welcomest of all welcome visitors. In their sweet company, innocence reigns supreme and the thoughts become purified. What now lies before us in this way! Is not the coming prospect lovely?

This reminds us that we must wake up from our reverie. Cheerfulness is a pleasing duty; more particularly now, when there is little (comparatively speaking,) to make us sad. We are positively in APRIL.

April!-the word, carries with it charms inexpressible, The lovely goddess seems kindly sent by Providence to compensate us for all the little drawbacks to our happiness that have preceded her advent. She unlocks the heart, and stimulates the ear. At sight of her, all nature rejoices, and is full of motion. She smiles, and the bees fly out to welcome her; animal and insect life alike acknowledge her power. Springing up into a new existence, they bound forth and take wing in all the ecstacy of wonderment and happiness.

Spring hails her approach with rapture ; and so animates her subjects that they cling to life with a fonder enjoyment than ever. We love to live. We live to love. Are we sad?-April's tears share our sorrows. Are we happy?-her sunny smiles add to our happiness a hundredfold. Smiles and tears hold their court this month. Go forth, young and old, and join the levee. "There is a time to weep, and a time to sing."

April is this year "forward" in its beauties. The warmth of the sun in March led us to anticipate one of our lovely bygone early Springs; and we hope not to be disappointed. The buds on the trees are now become con

The

spicuous; and the lilacs are green, bushy, and thick. They are flushed with half-unfolded leaves; and bunches of the future blossoms stand out amongst them. rose trees, too, are gradually donning their new liveries; and the peach, nectarine, and pear give lavish promises of beauty and plenty on every bough. Then, do but behold the chesnuts! How every day's sun is adding to the gloriousness of their apparel! But why particularise, when all we see is so full of beauty?

It is now that one revels in the enjoyments of early Spring, and rejoices in beholding the vernal greenness stealing along the sheltered hedgerows, whilst strolling through fields and bowery lanes; the celandine, daisy coltsfoot, cardamine, primrose, and anemone, disclosing themselves bashfully to our view, and making our bosoms glow with rapture at the thought of what is preparing for us anon. Nature loves to provide for us; and feels delighted, no doubt, whilst beholding us gaze with admiration on her handiwork; whilst our very senses "ache" at the rich sweetness of the hidden flowers growing beneath our feet.

We feel, now our heart is warming upon the subject of flowers, buds, and blossoms, that we could be very eloquent in their praise; but, alas! what are words? How infinitely powerless is the pen to set forth even one of Nature's beauties! To enjoy these, let us again urge upon our readers the necessity for early rising. The mornings now are fresh. Dew, like diamonds, hangs upon the buds and branches. The sun is up betimes, shining people into activity, and wooing them forth into the open air. The vernal choristers obey his impulse, and sing themselves awake,-chanting sweetly their morning hymn of praise for a happy night's rest.

Something less than another fortnight will see located amongst us many of our old favorites, black caps, nightingales, swallows, and redstarts, besides other stragglers even now on the wing towards the spot where they were so happy last year. How we do love to recognise, day after day, some wellremembered voice; and to bid our little friends welcome, as one by one they greet us with their song! Only those who are in the secret can understand the feeling we speak of. Honeysuckle," Puss," "Lily of the Valley,' and other of our choice correspondents, will vouch for this.

Then the Cuckoo,-our garden is his home. How we do rejoice in first hearing of his advent, as announced by himself and mate! The very mention of his name recalls to our memory the sweet lines of Wordsworth :

O, blithe new-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice;

The same whom in my schoolboy days
I listen'd fo; that cry
Which made me look a thousand ways,
In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove

Through woods, and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love, Still long'd for, never seen. And I can listen to thee yet, Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget

That golden time again.

O, blessed bird! the earth we pace
Again appears to be

An unsubstantial, fairy place,

That is fit home for thee!

How often, how very often have we repeated these lines whilst wandering far, far away, and listening to the love-song of this most singular bird! A recurrence of these happy hours is at hand. We know every likely spot, we can divine places out of number where all our pets will reassemble, and disburthen themselves in song; and where we can listen happily,-ourself unseen. Then only imagine the skylark just now,-rising fresh at earliest dawn from his bed of dew, bathed in song; and the lovely, tender green, pervading the face of all Nature! What sounds! what a refreshing sight to the eyes after so long a separation! We must not dwell on it here. Words are so inefficient !

We have just been reading a lovely sketch by Miss Mitford. It refers to a ramble of hers, in early Spring, among the mazes of a wood. It is so apposite to the present month, that we must introduce a part of it here:

Imagine a small forest, full of glades and sheep-walks; surrounded by irregular cottages with their blowing orchards, a clear stream winding about the brakes, and a road intersecting it, and giving life and light to the picture, you will then have an idea of the wood I speak of.

Every step was opening a new point of view; a fresh combination of glade, and path,

and thicket. The accessories, too, were

changing every moment. Ducks, geese, pigs, and children, gave way as we advanced into the wood; and they again disappeared as we became more entangled in its mazes, till we heard nothing save the song of the nightingale, and saw only the silent flowers.

What a piece of fairy-land! The tall elms overhead were bursting into tender vivid leaf, with here and there a hoary oak or a silver-barked larch; every twig swelling with the brown buds, and yet not quite stripped of the tawny foliage of Autumn. Tall hollies and hawthorn beneath, with their crisp brilliant leaves, mixed with the white blossoms of the sloe; and were woven together with garlands of woodbines and wild briars. What a fairy-land!

Primroses, cowslips, pansies, and the regular open-eyed white blossom of the wood anemone, or wind-flower, were set under our feet as thick as daisies in a meadow. And look, there is the wood-sorrel! look at the pendant white flower, shaped like a snowdrop, and veined with purple streaks, and with beautiful trefoil leaves folded like a heart, some, the young ones, so vividly yet tenderly green, that the foliage of the elm and the hawthorn would look dull by their side; others of a deeper tint, and lined as it were with a rich and changeful purple. See how beautiful they are, and in what profusion! See how the dark shade of the holly sets off the light and delicate coloring of the flower! And only look at that other bed of them, springing from the rich moss in the

roots of that old beech tree!

Here is a touch of nature for us, that awakens all the finest feelings of the heart. We envy not those who can read such a pure language without being able to understand it, and enjoy the delights which it paints in such vivid yet harmonious colors. All who love the country thoroughly, will appreciate every single word; and long for an early opportunity to make similar observations for themselves. The heart, now, requires expansion.

But we must away. We have had a very long gossip, and it behoves us to go abroad and verify all that we have said. duty we shall gladly perform; for now,

It is a

Heralded by sunbeams golden,
Garlanded with green buds fair,
Modest snowdrops just unfolden,
Toying 'midst her streaming hair,
Comes fair SPRING,-a blushing maiden,
With rich hope and beauty laden!

Over brake and meadow winging,

Breathes she life, and light, and power; Waking song-birds to their singing, Calling up the dewy flower! Winter's sterner looks subduing, Earth with greener tints imbuing.

In the dell, a dewy bather,
Blooms the golden celandine;
Violets into clusters gather,

Daisies dip their fringe in wine.
Below are humming, bright-hued things;
Above, the lonely wild-bird sings.

Zephyrs greet us, skies grow brighter,
Flashing 'neath the noon-tide ray;
Fair eyes sparkle, hearts grow lighter,
Lambs with gladder impulse play.
Spring brings earth her leaf and flower,
Hearts fresh gladness, minds new power.

Sporting through green lane and meadow,
Laughing half his time away,
Childhood, chasing bee and shadow,
Toyeth out the pleasant day.
Limbs all wearied, laughing, sighing,

Slowly creeps he, homeward hieing. Yes-readers all, hasten to the fields, frolic in the meads, bathe yourselves in morning dew, and then see what a true appetite is! Out again after breakfast,—ye who can find the time; range the woods, watch the bee, and chase the shadow; listen to the birds, and gambol with the lambs. You will then come home

Limbs all wearied, laughing, sighing,
Slowly creeping, homeward hieing,

and thank us for having added-we know not how many-years to your lives!

TO THE DAISY.

[Contributed by a Lover of Nature in humble life.]
I love thee with a Poet's Love,
Thou hardy little flower;
Humblest of the precious gems
That deck fair Flora's bower.
Whether in the new-born Spring
Thou flashest on my sight,
Or the maturer Summer, still
I hail thee with delight.
No flower attracts my wandering eye,
As thou-so simple-wild!

I love thee now, I lov'd thee when
I was a tiny child;.

Would run to thee from baby toy,
And laugh and crow with baby joy :

Or roll upon the dewy grass
Like a little birdling free;
And clasp thee to my beating heart
In delightful ecstacy.

On the smooth and velvet lawn,
In the o'er-arching glade,

Many are the joyous games

Together thou and I have played!

While some would call thee common flower," I would call thee "treasure;"

They would gaze with glance of scorn,

I would gaze with pleasure. Yes, still thou art as dear to me As in my happy infancy!

W. R.

STOP NATURE IF YOU CAN;

OR,

MY LOVELY COUSIN'S FIRST VISIT. BY FANNY FORESTER.

NDEED IT WAS A GREAT EVENT-
THAT OF MY COUSIN'S FIRST VISIT

TO US IN THE COUNTRY! Now, we begged of the clouds to be propitious; and now, we flew to make the house appear so, till every article of furniture had been arranged and re-arranged at least half a dozen times; though we were assured by certain older and wiser individuals that it had gained nothing by the changes.

Cousin Walter, a curly-headed, laughing eyed junior, had come home to spend the summer vacation with us, and, if truth must be told, neither Walter nor myself felt very hospitable. We had lived a whole year in the anticipation of this visit; and now to have our plans spoiled by the whimseys of a city belle Walter hesitated not to declare that it was too bad, and, of course, he could hold no opinion to which I would not accede, when I had not seen him before for a whole year. It will do to contradict those we meet every day; but living twelve long months in two-ah! we must be in a hurry then to act out half the love that is in the heart! And Walter and myself were very loving cousins, for we had been rocked in the same cradle, (I a few years later, true, and sometimes by his own chubby little hand,) and had eaten bread and milk from the same porringer; aye, and been tied up by the same string, when we ran away together to play upon the shaded verge of the mill-pond, as if to test the truth of the oft-repeated prophecy, that we should surely be drowned. We were deep in each other's confidences, too. I knew every little Miss for a dozen miles around that Walter thought pretty, and, as in duty bound, I thought them all pretty too. I knew, moreover, what my father never dreamed of, that Walter had no liking for the science of jurisprudence to which he was destined, and had other and very mysterious views for himself, of which even I could only obtain inkling.

an

lege. And is it to be supposed that, after an absence of three years, Walter would grow dignified,and I reserved and prudish? Ah, no! not we! We met with hearty kisses, and strolled arm in arm, all over the fields and woods, and sat down together under the old trees, or in the portico, at evening, and were just as confidential as ever. But to have a third in our

conferences, and she a city lady, in all probability as full of provokingly nice notions But then she was coming per invitation from as an egg is of meat! Oh! it was too bad! my father, and must, of course, be duly

entertained.

However, Walter and I set apart two good hours that we fairly concluded might be exclusively our own; one, the first after sunrise in the morning, which our guest would of course waste in sleep; and the other, immediately following dinner, when she was taking her afternoon's siesta. Walter's fine saddle horse had been taken from the plough a full week before his arrival; and my pretty Zikka (a perversion of Zeke, I suppose) was certainly born for a lady's sitting, what delightful times we might have had galloping away, side by side! arrival of my city cousin would spoil all, for there was not another side-saddle in the neighborhood, and not a horse, save the halt and the aged, that a lady could mount be sacrificed! But Walter and I resolved to with safety. So there was another pleasure to bear it like two martyrs, and bear it we did.

VOL. V.-12.

Oh!

But the

On the day of 'Bel Forester's arrival, after I had slipped two or three more choice buds among the fresh flowers in her room, looped anew the muslin curtains, and given the last touch to all the little paraphernalia of the dressing-table, Walter harnessed his own horse, and assisted me into a nice little " buggy," and off we drove in search of my dreaded cousin. To be sure we did not know her; but we resolved to step up to the first cold, formal Miss, with a languid step, drooping shoulders, and a would-be pretty lisp, and hail her as Miss Isabella Forester. We were obliged to wait full ten minutes for the arrival of the cars; and Cousin Walter and I spent this time in rallying each other out of our sheepishness, and wondering if our expected guest would really be pleased with any of the thousand plans that we had arranged for her benefit. At last there was a sudden tinkling of a bell, a rumbling, puffing,

whish! fiz!'sh! 'sh! 'sh! and a furious crazy monster of a run-away Etna whisked passed us, and came to a stand-still. My heart was in my mouth, and Walter's might have been in his eyes, for aught that I know, for the big orbs became suddenly very prominent.

"Stay here, Fanny," he whispered," and will go out in search of the lady."

N