No. 1.]

The Reclaimed.

A STORY FOR THE NEW YEAR.

Ir was a large comfortable room, rich damask curtains shrouded the windows, and fell in graceful folds on the Brussels carpet. A man, long past the prime of life, was dozing lazily before a bright coal fire. His features were of a singular character, divested of the slightest approach to softness. The firmly knit brows, the long straight nose, the thin compressed lips, all betokened determination and strength of no ordinary kind. His hands were clasped tightly behind his head, and his slipper-cased feet rested lightly on the highly polished fender. The door opens and a lady enters, followed by a servant bearing a tea equippage. The former seats herself at the table, fills a cup with fragrant Souchong, and places it, together with a plate of well-buttered toast, beside the gentleman.

"Are you ill, George," asks the lady, gently, noticing his continued abstraction.

Il Mary, no; but I have had a fearful dream."

Is that all; you do not generally notice such trifles."

Trifles; yes, you are right Mary, it was only a trifle, and yet I feel strangely excited."

"Why, dear, to whom or what did it relate?"

No matter now, the sensation will wear away," and the merchant passed his hand uneasily across his brow. A disagreeable silence ensued, broken only by the hissing of the tea-urn.

George," at length ventured the lady, “do you remember the occurrences of this night five years ago." A dark cloud gathered o'er the husband's brow.

"Why do you revert to that time, Mary?" he asked sternly, "have I not told you

"I know, George, you are proud, and he is proud; neither will yield. Oh! Ralph, my son, where are you now on this bleak New-Year's Eve!"

"Hush, wife! how dare you mention his name, he is an alien and a stranger for ever." The lady ceased, and resting her head wearily on her hand, pondered over the fearful events of that NewYear's Eve. She starts, as in fancy she hears the tottering footsteps, and sees the wretched mirestained man reeling into the room, and throwing himself on the rich cushions of the crimson fauteuil; the thick matted hair hanging over the bleared but handsome face; the white hands wildly clutching the arms of the chair; the snatches of bacchanalian merriment; the stifled oaths. Like a panorama each dread phase passes before her mental vision.

[VOL. II.

And now the scene shifts. It is the morrow after the night of woe; father and son stand together, both proud, both unforgiving. The enormity of his sin is shown to the young man; the disgrace; the foul stain on the family name; the path of temperance and moderation is recommended to him. It has been tried heretofore and failed; let it be tried again. Bitter words are spoken on either side.

Again the scene shifts. The lady presses her fingers on her burning eye-balls; the stern, inexorable father is expelling his son from the home of his childhood; they both stand in the spacious hall, the young man calm and resolute, the elder firm and determined. It is the last scene; she sees him no more except by stealth. Poor mother, many are the ways which you devise to catch a glimpse of that loved, lost face; standing beneath dark arches close to his favourite haunts; hurrying through pestilential courts and filthy lanes to look upon your darling's home. Five years have passed since he sat at his father's table. Five years since the mother heard his voice; and where is he now ?-where is her first and only born?

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Mary, dear wife, you are sad; are you still thinking of the ingrate; come hither and let us talk of the coming year." The lady approached and seated herself beside the husband of her youth. For some moments both were silent; alas! alas! each one was thinking of the absent son.

“Mary, dear, my dream was very fearful," said the merchant, closing his eyes, as if to shut out the picture. "I dreamt that I was standing on a high rock, out in the very midst of the sea; all was calm and peaceful where I was situated, but afar off the angry swelling billows moaned and foamed; wave after wave followed its fellow, crowning the whole ocean with a red gurgling foam as of blood. The sky was a deep crimson, streaked with clouds of inky blackness; the winds sobbed out its anguish, or whistled fiercely as in despair, and I was alone, quite alone. Suddenly a dark wave rose higher than all others, and on its bosom I saw a little rudderless craft; it was very frail and weak, and like a cork was thrown hither and thither on the waters, one billow stronger than the others carried it to my very feet; a man clung to the broken mast, and as the night wind swept back his damp hair, I saw the upturned face of-of-of our Ralph; he called me by my name, he stretched forth one arm, my fingers touched his, but some wild impulse seized me and I recoiled; the next instant a loud unearthly scream rose above the din of waters; the boat had disappeared! Was it not a frightful dream, Mary?"

"George! husband! it is a warning from Heaven; we must, this night, save our child."