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The rolling years have come and gone,

The Child is now a Man,
And the Reason of Mind told him long ago

Of the Winter of Death, and the end of woe, But told him beside ere its goal be won

Life must fulfil its span.
Still on! still on! o'er Time's dark Sea,

The cycling Hours have passed ;
Manhood hath changed to Life's last stage,

Its curling locks to a silver age, And the Winter hath come, and the Old Man, he

With his mother is at last.

Glancing 'twixt me and the window,

Here, afar from banks and bees, Comes a whisper-"Let me in, do !

And thy very heart I'll please !" Enter! and the Violets, throwing

Essences, which are their speech, Give me thoughts pot worth the knowing

But for some things that they teach. 'Tis that souls-like flowers—are planted

In us by a Hand Divine
For use as well as grace, nor wanted

Bootlessly to flaunt or shine :
'Tis that as bright Violets sweeten

All around them, hedge or hall, We--a Christian's love complete in

Should give tenderness to all ! 'Tis that, in my lonely chamber,

With the cat upon the hearth, Basking in the beams of amber

Which the cheery fire puts forth, I experience grateful feelings

Tow'rds those violets from the sod; And, for all her gentle dealings,

Commend the giver to our God!

VIOLETS, VIOLETS. (A Flower-gift on Christmas Day.)

BY CALDER CAMPBELL.

Violets are near me, throwing

Balmy fragrance all around; Fancy's eye beholds them growing

By some hedge, or on some mound, Where the vernal zephyrs from them

Sip a thousand draughts at ease, While the azure skies, that dome them,

Seem their deeper tints to seize. Bees are 'mid them (Fancy utters),

And to Fancy's gaze they look Little elves, whose humming mutters

Sweeter laud than bard or book
Ever sang or said in letters:

Butterflies are also nigh ;
While grim spiders spin tough fetters

For the moth that totters by.
Oh, those Violet-banks, so vernal

In their fragrance and their grace! Can we not high thoughts eternal

In their growth and beauty trace ? First the seed—whence came it ? Heaven

And Heaven's Master sent it, when With other grains 'twas kindly given

For use and pleasure unto men! Then the fibrous root, firm fastening

Roving tendrils in the earthThen the stem, and broad leaves hastening

To veil the buds that swell to birth : Then the buds themselves, close-hiding

(As a heart its love) sweet thingsThen the flowers, whose fresh abiding

Rests on leafy shadowings !
While the fragrance from them coming

(Visible to saints perhaps !)
Bees and gnats amidst them humming,

In a swoon of transport wraps ! Who can say that, by pure spirits,

From the odours of the flowers, Music-such as heaven inherits

Is not heard at certain hours ? Who can say that seraphs holy

Do not every flower-bush haunt ? Regal rose or lily lowly

May have angel-visitant! Here, beside me, in the twilight

Of this dreary Christmas night, Pussy purring by the firelight,

And yon curtain- like a sprite

HELEN GREY. 'Midst Beauty's loveliest parterre, None could in face or form compare

With peerless Helen Grey :
Too pure, too bright for this vile earth,
She scarcely seemed of human birth,

Or fram'd of mortal clay.
Her dovelike eyes so soft and bright,
Beam'd with a soul-enthralling light,

The winds enamoured played
Amongst the tresses of her hair,
That on a neck as ivory fair

In golden ringlets strayed.
O'er all her slaves that slender hand
Waved the light sceptre of command.

And when she silence broke,
It seemed that tones of music rare
Stole on the hushed and listening air,

Or that an angel spoke.
From suitors, wealthy, high-born, gay,
With wearied sense she turned away,

Owning no kindred flame.
Her heart untouched, her fancy free,
Until from lands beyond the sea

A youthful stranger came.

*

'Twas I who cast Guilt's withering spell
On one who lov'd me but too well-

Deserted and forlorn,
Not long the cruel slights she bore
Of those who envied her before-

The worldling's cutting scorn!
The curse sinks deeper in my brain ;
The brand of the first murderer CAIN

Is blazoned on my brow!
That church-yard nook where wild-flow'rs wave,
Marking a turf'd and lowly grave,

Oh God! I see it now!
Remorse's barb'd and venom'd dart,
Clings to my sear'd and festering heart,

While deepens round the gloom.
Thus tortur'd longer shall I live?
The grave alone true peace can give-
Helen, I come! I come!

Thos. D'OYLY.

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CHAP. III.

“ Yes, I have,” said Willy; “ this side of the wall is ours; but I mean to do more yet, I am

coming to bave a walk round the garden with “ There was a sadness in her face

you. Little girls must not be impertinent.”. That suited not her years ;

Before she could say anything in deprecation, And with her long and golden hair

the boy dropped from the top of the wall, aided She wiped away her tears."

by a string of his schoolfellows' handkerchiefs MARY HOWITT.

knotted together, and tied at one end to a stout yew tree by the wall in his own playground, The younger girl, seeing Fanny was frightened,

had run away to tell Miss Pinchbeck at the very Next door to the grammar-school conducted commencement of the proceedings; while Fanny by the Rev. Henry Martin, M. A., resided a lady was imploring him to go away, unless he wanted who kept a select seminary for young ladies. It to get her into trouble. Down came Miss Pinchwould be an interesting study to ascertain how beck, just in time to hear her say earnestly, it is that academies and serninaries are always in Pray do now, if you have any feeling.” close vicinity to each other. The playground of “ Feeling, indeed, Miss Bartlett ! you

shame. the grammar-school was large, and divided from less girl, how dare you encourage rude boys to the spot set apart for the lady-like recreation of invade my premises. Not the first time, I dare Miss Pinchbeck's pupils by a high brick wall. say." Had it been a low paling, most probably Willy Fanny's blush was as indignant and sudden would never have thought of getting over it; as the accusation was false and uncalled for. but a brick wall, put up no doubt for the pur- “ Indeed, ma'am,” remonstrated she; but pose of preventing communication between the was here interrupted by Miss Pinchbeck. young neighbours, rendered it highly desirable “ Oh! no answers, Miss Bartlett, if you that he should see what was on the other side. please ; you will remain a prisoner in your own So one summer morning, as he was amusing room a week; that is, in the intervals of your himself just before school began, he determined duties as junior teacher." (Fanny was the only to do what none of Mr. Martin's pupils ever bad teacher Miss Pinchbeck kept, excepting a Frenchdone, or thought of doing-take a walk in Miss woman, who understood and taught nothing but Pnchbeck's garden. By the aid of some ever- her own language.) greens he climbed the wall, and on looking over, “ Am I not to take any lessons, ma’am?" said saw, in a walk separated from the rest of the poor little Fanny, with tears in her tears. garden by a thick hedge of ilex, two of Miss “ No, miss, not for a week. I little thought, P.'s pupils : one, a little girl of seven or eight when I took you from the arms of your father

, years old, who stood with her hands behind her, you would become such a disgrace to me. And repeating her lesson to an elder schoolfellow, how would he grieve, Miss Bartlett, were he yet a young lady of fourteen years. Fanny Bartlett alive ? --I say, how would your respectable and was the orphan daughter of a poor clergyman, orthodox parent lament this dereliction from the whom Miss Pinchbeck educated gratis, on con- paths of-of-but I will not waste any more sideration of her devoting nearly the whole of time upon you ; go in, and take the little draw. her time to the instruction of the juniors. They ing class, don't you hear the school-bell ring?" all loved Fanny, who was one of the gentlest Then she turned to Willy, who had been silent creatures ever known upon the highway of the in passion during this lecture : “As for you," world, to be jostled and pushed, or cherished and she beganvalued, as the case may be.

“ As for me,” interrupted Willy, (Miss Pinch“Now, dear,” said Fanny, kissing the little beck bad never been interrupted or contradicted girl, who had evidently been crying very much, for fifteen years,)“ as for me, I say I never saw “ what is the shape of the earth?”.

such an old wretch of an ogress as you are. “ Round;

like an orange a little flattened at How could the poor girl help my getting over the poles," answered the child, making the stop the wall?” in the wrong place.

Oh, it was an appointment, no doubt,” “ Which part of an orange is the ole?" said Miss Pinchbeck; **I'll have that ilex hedge shouted Willy from the top of the wall. cut down, although it will spoil the garden.".

Fanny looked up, frightened at this interrup- " There's more spite than sense in that; I tell tion, and said, “ You have no business there, you there was no appointment," said the boy sir,

angrily,

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213 “Well, I doubt that, air. Now if you please she saw with alarm his increasing moodiness. leave these premises instantly."

The varied experiences of long married life had Willy looked for the string of handkerchiefs equalized Annie's temper, and the tears she and by whose aid he had descended from the top of her husband had mingled over the grave of one the wall; but his companions, who of course innocent babe had solemnized and increased stood listening on the other side, had pulled it their love. Many conversations they held togeover, so there was no way of escape.

ther about this time respecting Willy. His “ Ah !” said Miss Pinchbeck, “ I know you father thought that, being very sensitive, he was must have had assistance in climbing the wall, perhaps depressed by the gloomier part of his and that minx helped you over it.”

profession, and said a few months would “har“She did not,” shouted Willy; “I had a den ” him, and put all right. Annie feared that string of handkerchiefs, but the boys have pulled his temper was soured by the frequent reproofs it over the wall again.”

his mischievous performances in his youth had “ A probable story, indeed," sneered the lady called forth. Neither parent thought that love, “ I see how it is; now come with me, and I will that mightiest regenerator of our species, was let you through the house; and mind, I shall affecting his heart and his spirits. call on Mr. Martin this morning.”

The night before Willy's first day at the hosWilly made a low bow in mock politeness, pital, he and his father sat together in the drawand said, “We shall be most happy to see you; ing-room. Frank and the rest were busy upI'll tell John to be sure and have luncheon ready stairs, and Annie was in the nursery, on the eve by twelve o'clock precisely. I suppose you of an important discovery-baby's first tooth. won't expect anything beyond a little cold meat Dr. Campbell and his son were strikingly alike; and a tart or so."

and therefore the contrast seemed the greater, “Go along,” said the enraged Miss Pinch-between the fine middle-aged man, rather inbeck, pushing him out at the door.

clining to stoutness, and the pale young stuShe did complain to Mr. Martin, and the result dent. was that “Mr. Martin was pained to inform As Willy supported his head on his hand, Dr. Campbell, he must relinquish the care of Mr. sitting between the lamp and his father, Dr. William's education at Midsummer.”

Campbell sighed to see how transparent were Willy went home. He soon regretted that he the delicate fingers. Willy was sitting in sihad been the means of getting this poor girl into lence, looking at the table-cloth, as he

very

often trouble. Her gentle look of appeal to him, did for an hour together. when Miss Pinchbeck accused her of encouraging “ So to-morrow, William, you and I go him to come, had touched his pity. Her disap- together." pointment when she heard she was to take no les- Yes, father.” sons for a week, showed that she had an interest “ It will be a great comfort to me, my son, to in learning as much as possible. It was clear, feel that you are growing up to share and suctoo, that she had no father. “ I dare say she's ceed me in my profession.” to be a governess," said he to himself.

“I hope I shall please you, father ; but I very sorry that I got her into this trouble. That almost hope I shall never live to succeed you.” wrong-headed old woman would never believe “My dear boy" us, even if I were to get my father to call “ Well, I mean, unless my future life prove and say it was all my fault." This, however, happier than the present.” he succeeded in getting his father to do; and This is a subject your mother and I have the only answer Miss Pinchbeck made was, long wished to speak to you about.” that she was sorry a gentleman of Dr. Camp- “ Nevertheless," said the young man, respectbell's great good sense should be so deceived by fully but firmly, “it is one I cannot discuss. his own son.” So Willy very shortly left school, I have said inadvertently what I wish I could and entered on his studies; his father was de- recall.” lighted with his progress, but not quite satisfied Well, my dear William, tell me if I can with his health. Willy had never been able to assist you ; I hope to see you happier soon.” see Fanny again, nor, although he had inquired directly and indirectly many times, could he find out where she was gone. All he could learn was, that she had taken a situation somewhere

CHAP. IV. as governess.

The remembrance of her helpless beauty was his perpetual meditation; and the thoughts that “ Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, he had known her only to trouble her, and that And teach the young idea how to shoot.” she must dislike him, were the foundation of a constant regret. Frank, whose childlike gaiety and simplicity found the change quite incom- Fanny Bartlett's dismissal from Miss Pickprehensible, wondered to see, during two years, beck's occurred in consequence of William his brother become silent and “ solid” as he Campbell's unfortunate mischief. Miss Pinchcalled it. Willy seemed to shrink from being beck said that as Fanny was an orphan, she drawn into conversation about himself; even would keep her till she was old enough to take to his mother he refused his confidence, and a situation for Miss Pinchbeck had, like every

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one else, some good in her. Fanny therefore Saturday: weekly repetition, and meat pie; spent another year in teaching the juniors, and Miss Gardiner, the weekly boarder, went home. in making use of every educational privilege for Sunday: church three times; roast beef; herself. She was a pretty, accomplished girl, nothing particular occurred, excepting that with one of the most loving hearts in the world. Fanny Bartlett was severely scolded for being She had a peculiar sweetness of temper and dis- stared at all church time by the youngest usher position, and a stock of patience, which rendered of the academy over the way. her eminently fit to be a governess.

This will do. Forty-two weeks (for this is Miss Pinchbeck had no difficulty in procuring about a school year) of this sort Fanny spent at her a situation as teacher of music, in which she Primrose Villa. Just before the Midsummer excelled. So winning were her gentleness and holidays, the return of the season at which she docility, that the bent old music-master, usually had come to Mrs. Vincent, Fanny sat in the so crabbed and snappish, wrote, unasked, the music-room (the music was a daily infliction) most flattering testimonial of her abilities. So teaching some of her pupils. It was an undershe entered on her duties at Primrose Villa. ground room, so damp that the paper had in She had, of course, to teach only little children; many places peeled off the walls. There were indeed Mrs. Vincent took no others. Mrs. Vin- small paved cells outside the sunken windows; cent was a very good woman, who was unfortu- and here, rejoicing in the green mould engennately as poor as she was good. Fanny shared dered by the damp among the stones, not unfrea bedroom with seven little girls, one of whom quently were seen frogs and slugs. Fanny sat was her own bedfellow. The little bedsteads fourteen hours a day in this wretched place, to all the same height, and decorated with white which any of the new prisons, with the luxuries hangings quite alike, have ever a monotonous of light, cleanliness, and dryness, would be a effect.

palace. The yellow slugs and black-beeties that Fanny would have been grateful if to-night, crawled over the floor were decidedly objec. the first night at Primrose Villa, she could have tionable to Fanny, who had no turn for natural commanded a place in which to be alone ; here history. (In parenthesis we will remark, that were fourteen bright little eyes, some of which if there be two things from which our timidity even a single sigh or sob might unclose. Fanny especially recoils, they are school pianos, and had left schoolfellows she loved; and Miss the neighbourhood of Smithfield on market day.) Pinchbeck, whom she tried to love, and who Fanny was superintending the jingling of some certainly deserved her gratitude for affording seventy-eight loose wires, one morning just beher a home and an education. She had left the fore Midsummer. She felt a strange pain in her only home she ever knew, for the first time in limbs, and a heavy languor, which not even an her life; and if she had been alone to-night, she obtuse pupil could remove. would have relieved her desolation by (not a “Oh dear, Miss Jane,” said poor Fanny, " I few) tears. She regretted she had been misun- think I have told you fifty times this half-year derstood in the Campbell affair; but beyond that the head of a crotchet rest turns to the this, Willy certainly occupied none of her right, and now you tell me this is a quaver rest. thoughts.

You know your mamma expects so much from Fanny was too good-hearted to suppose that you in music; if she should question you at all

, Miss Pinchbeck's charitable action was not the I am sure I cannot tell what she will think of offspring of pure kindness. The fact was, that your teacher." her protection of this little orphan (taken when “ Oh my dear Miss Bartlett,” said the kindshe was only a year old, and when Miss P. had hearted little girl, “ I will tell mamma you take only three pupils) had made the protectress a so much pains with me, and that I am stupid

. reputation and a connexion. The motive was a Indeed I try to learn, but somehow I forget. ! mixed one that prompted to the good action, but wish you were going to spend the holidays at Fanny gave the lady credit to the utmost extent our house, then you could show mamma how for generosity and charity. Who can describe much trouble you take-oh, I am sure she will a year in which every day brings nearly the not blame you. Do go home into Devonshire same occurrences-in which a journal of one with me, dear Miss Fanny: we should soon gire week may serve as a specimen of the whole ? you a colour. Ton has the sweetest little black Here is oneMonday: geography and arithmetic; roast better than wearing out my brains at this stupid

pony you ever saw; oh! I love pony-riding much mutton; Miss Pilkins's mamma came to tea, music !” and Miss Gardiner, the weekly boarder, came Hush, dear, the music is not stupid; now back.

do try very much, and remember what I tell Tuesday: globes and writing; boiled beef; you to-day, for you know school breaks up the Mrs. Wood came to fetch Miss Wood home to day after to-morrow.”. see lier grandpapa from the country

School broke up the next day, as far as reWednesday: history and chronology; boiled garded Fanny. She became very ill; and Mrs. mutton ; Miss Watson, the new pupil, came. Vincent could not afford to pay a medical

Thursday: studies, and dinner like Monday's; attendant for her. It may well be supposed very wet; no one called all day. Friday: history and writing ; dinner like had no hoard; the consequence was, that she

that out of fifteen pounds a-year our little Fanny Tuesday's; Miss Wood was brought back. was sent in a fly to the hospital.

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Fanny was to have spent the vacation at Miss

CHAP. V. Pinchbeck's, to mend up her clothes, and keep house, while Miss P. went to Paris; for “ Martin's boys” were all at home, and Miss Pinch

“ Two tapers thus, with pure converging rays, beck said, Fanny could do no great mischief if

In momentary flash their beams unite, she had plenty to do.

Shedding but one inseparable blaze The youngest usher, who had anticipated his Of blended radiance and effulgence bright, quarterly stipend to purchase a handsome Self-lost in mutual intermingling light.' bouquet for Fanny on "going-home day," (the

Mrs. Tighe's Psyche. academy broke up a day later,) watched for her attentively all the day, when he ought to have been examining arithmetic books, for his desk The morning after the conversation with which stood conveniently in a window that overlooked ends our third chapter, William went with his the road. He could not obtain a sight of her, father to the hospital. In going the round of and the poor fellow threw away the flowers in the wards, Dr. Campbell stopped his pupils (there despair, when he heard that the fly that came were seven or eight, beside his son) at one of yesterday to Mrs. Vincent's took the little the beds, saying, “ Here is a new patient.” music-teacher away with a fever, nobody knew The young men scrambled for the nearest where.

places, and Willy did not see the sufferer. Dr. Mrs. Vincent sent Miss Pinchbeck a note, to Campbell's first question called forth an answer say that Fanny was ill. But her mind was fixed in a voice that thrilled through his heart, and on Paris; and beside, fever might contaminate almost stifled him by the emotion it produced. the house. (She did not remember it was It was Fanny! He felt that he could not trust rheumatic.) All her plans were made; she himself to look at her, or to speak just then; meant to make economy the handmaid of plea- so hastily leaving the ward, he returned home, sure; to discharge her servants, and get some leaving a note for his father, to say he was sudhonest person to keep house and mend her denly indisposed. clothes while she was gone. The trip saved He reached home; and hiding his face near money in more ways than one. As provisions that maternal heart in which as first-born he were dear, and as Miss P. said, every one held the supreme place, told the history of the last makes a difference,” she saved twenty pounds two weary years. The tender mother wept with a-year by this voyage, beside the board of the and for him. He dared scarcely hope that his resident' Parisienne ; for when she returned father would consent to his marriage with a girl from her three weeks' tour, she herself taught so poor as Fanny evidently was, by being in an French,“ acquired on the continent.” Clever hospital. Dr. Campbell 'might command, no woman, Miss Pinchbeck! She was no Idler doubt, very good marriages for his children. in France,” for she scampered through Paris in His mother promised her intercession if Fanny twenty-one days, and “ acquired” the language were found irreproachable in every respect. “I into the bargain.

am safe, then,” said William, proudly, “ if excelAlas ! here is our sweet Fanny, with a sen- | lence of character will gain my father's consent.” sitive heart, lying ill, with no mother, sister, or He had nursed in his heart for two years a beauaunt to nurse her, uncared for by any one who ideal of woman under the name of Fanny; so can help her just at present. She looks as pale that, although he really knew nothing of her, he and pretty as a girl can look, but she is a thought her all his "fancy painted her," and stranger among strangers. All that is known that was assuredly both “ lovely” and “divine." about her by the ninety sharers of the ward is, “ You must remember you are only children that “ No. 17" is full again. Here comes one yet, you are only seventeen, you wiil have to of the physicians, bringing seven or eight noisy wait." merry students, who, stamping in their heavy “ Wait! oh yes, I can wait seven years, if I creaking boots, have about as much mercy on may see her and speak to her; for you know the ears of the nervous patients, as a blacksmith even if my father approve, I do not think she on the iron he hammers. Here they come, cares about me yet. But I don't like her to be clustering round the bed like bees; joking and in an hospital.” laughing as if “ all the ills that flesh is heir to" He heard his father's step just then, and were matters of gratulation, as affording them rushed up stairs to his own room. the prospect of a livelihood. The physician Well, Annie,” said the doctor, “how is counts his patient's pulse; but how this day William ? What is the matter with him?” ended must afford a commencement for

“ An affection of the heart, I believe, dear,” said Annie, laughing; she added, " but really it is no laughing matter; he has been in love these two years, and has to-day found the poor girl, whom he never saw but once before, (and that when he climbed into Miss Pinchbeck's gardenyou remember that,) ill in the hospital."

“ Indeed! it is no doubt my new patient, at whose side we stopped first this morning; a sweetly pretty creature. She has the seeds of a

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