Challoner, heartily. Julia seemed to say, by her eyes, "I have at last found a kindred spirit." I led her down to dinner; dashed finely; told good stories, piquant anecdotes, improvised jokes and verses; discoursed again on wealth, its impotence to secure happiness, &c., &c. Julia's eyes, if they did not "reign influence,' most certainly "adjudged the prize" to me. She talked of poetry, fortified by my leading the way; owned her partiality for Chaucer, but was compelled to admit, when questioned, that she admired rather than understood him : in short, I had made a conquest. She assured Mrs. Challoner, when they went to the drawingroom, that I was really charming; and regretted that old Vyvyan would spoil all. She knew he would be dull and disagreeable. "Well," said Mrs. Challoner; " but if he be rich ?" "Never mind this young man, Julia,” said Mrs. C.; "reserve yourself for Mr. Vyvyan." This conversation Mrs. Challoner repeated to me in the evening, when Julia was singing; and I laughed at the success of my own trick. When I lay in bed, mentally rehearsing the second and concluding act of our little drama, the thought darted into my head, that I could not possibly enact Mr. Vyvyan, the "old lawyer," with my moustache. I was able to paint wrinkles, but how should I get over the moustache? The only alternative appeared to be to "To be sure, to be sure; but Julia will not take me for the lawyer," said I, looking at my-shave it off. But then, what a sacrifice, for a reflection in a long mirror that was opposite me. (For Challoner, too, was fond of a mirror). "Introduce me," I continued, "under a feigned name, as-as-anything you like; as Equerry to the Queen, if she does not study the List of the Household; or-stop-as a clerk in the Treasury, with a mortal hatred to business. To-morrow I will put on a wig, and act the old lawyer, and we shall have some fun!" Capital," said Harry; "I must tell Blanche. Blanche is particularly quick. She will see into it at once, and do her part well." Blanche was quite willing, it appeared, and thought it very good sport. We presently went to the drawing-room, and I was soon introduced as Mr. Eversdale to Juliaa fair, languid-looking young lady, in a bright blue satin dress. Mrs. Challoner came in, and said, "I suppose Mr. Vyvyan will not come now.' Vyvyan the lawyer?" said I. Being answered in the affirmative, I assured her that he would not come that day, for I had heard him say so; which of course was quite true. 'Business, I suppose," I added, rather angrily, throwing myself at full length on a couch; "Oh, what mammon-seekers are men ! Where is that freshness of heart, that ideality, that love of nature, which ought to reign over us? Vyvyan the lawyer! Well, rich as he may be, give me humble contentment, although I have as good a right to be rich as he. My blood is at least as noble." stupid trick, that I ought to be ashamed of being engaged in! Morning came, and at breakfast all went on well. I was still the polite, charming, business-hating, Mr. Eversdale. I rode with Julia (she really rode well), and we enjoyed ourselves extremely. I dressed, and relinquishing kalydor for the nonce, in favour of chalk and brown clay, completely disguised my complexion. But my moustache-that still remained: what could I do? The dinner-bell rang. Off with it! There lay the razor, glittering temptingly in its velvet case: it would be but the work of a moment! My sensations can scarcely be conceived; I hesitated-felt I was a fool-took up the razor-laid it down again. I should have hesitated longer, but a voice at the door announced that Mr. and Mrs. Challoner hoped Mr. Vyvyan was well; and took the liberty of telling him (as they supposed he had not heard the bell), that dinner waited. I shaved it off! The loss of my moustache really made me rather sad, so I "did" the old lawyer capitally. I tried to console myself with the thought that my hirsute attraction must have come off be fore next term. "It was a pity Mr. Eversdale was compelled to leave us so suddenly, on account of his brother's illness," said Mrs. Challoner to Julia. "Oh! he was too noisy," said she, very quietly; "too rackety for Mr. Vyvyan, I am sure. Mr. Vyvyan scarcely spoke, for fear of be traying himself by his voice; an assenting or dissenting grunt was at most the amount of his conversation at dinner. I heard Julia whisper to her friend, "Such a contrast to Mr. Eversdale!" I fancied I traced a smile upon her lips, and set it down to the effect of my own attractions the preceding night. During the evening, the Challoners proposed a walk in the grounds; and, of course, went away from Julia and me. She showed me the conservatories and grounds, as to a perfect stranger. It was getting quite dusk; then I ventured to speak, and to expose, as I thought, the impertinence of this matchhunting young lady. "And what do you think of poetry and sentiment-the same as other young ladies?" grunted I, hoping she would contradict what she had advanced when I was Mr. Eversdale. "I think precisely as I did last night, Mr. Vyvyan," said she, laughing; taking hold of my hand and looking into my face, "it was a good trick, but scarcely worth the moustache!" I rushed in-doors; found Harry, who had been laughing at my loss. He told me, Blanche was so fond of fun-Julia and she had heard I was a coxcomb, and agreed to take me down, by drawing me into some stupid trick that would get rid of my moustache, which Harry had told them I prized highly. When my anger had a little abated, I was calm enough to see that Julia (now no longer languid, but a sisterspirit of Blanche) was very pretty; and—and on the strength of a legacy, left me by my maternal grandfather a few months since, we are to be married very soon. She jokes me with impunity now; but let her beware how, as Mrs. Vyvyan, she hazards a reference to the moustache! What is the star of thy birth, New Year? Is any so learned to prove a seer? There is not (thank Heaven) a Corn Law for you The brightest and best made of hopes, joys, and To raise up the Wretched from Ignorance' slime, And save from the plunge to the Waters of Crime! But I pray you attempt-look forward, not back, Though you leave in your wake a bright silver track. Rouse the souls that are dormant with eloquent words, belong. That are struck from the fire-heart of Genius like Dec. 1847. THE SPIRITS OF THE ABBEY. The moon had risen high, The stars shone sweetly fair, High in the bright blue sky Above the abbey there; When to the sighing breeze A voice among the trees Pour'd forth a low complaint In accents sweet and faint: "Farewell thy ancient grace, "Gone is thy organ's sound, Was wafted up still higher. "Farewell, for thou must fall, Yet grand in thy decay, And through thy ruined hall The wild-flowers gaily stray: And spirits weep o'er theeThey mourn and weep with me, In this thy abject time, As in thy day of prime." D Weep, Erin, weep! Thy sons' dark deeds have cast Worth, kindness, charity, all-all are vain ; Now cold the hand but late stretch'd forth to aid, can see. Oh, direful thought! that thy true heart lay crush'd beneath my scorn; Hush! every throe thy heart e'er knew this weary one hath known. Oh, com'st thou now, lost love, to soothe this fevermadden'd brain! Call from the long-dried fount of tears one welling drop again, And, like the dew that from the sky the thirsty earth receives, Tell o'er once more in grateful love each blessed drop it gives? Thou canst but come to bless me-thou, still so pure and fair; The ghostly tenants of the tomb are round me everywhere. My worn heart o'er a waveless sea in silence broodeth on; But moveless, cold, and stern, I weep-I am no more alone. A. S. "Well, Sophy, how will you go?" said Mrs. Leslie to her daughter, as the former sat twisting a rose-coloured envelop into various shapes. "I cannot exactly determine, mamma. Go I must; for Mrs. Camington's parties are always of that delightful kind called, par excellence-exclusive. The misfortune is, that her husband's mania is farming, and he will live four miles out of town." "Ay, there's the rub!" said her father, looking from behind his paper, "I have no patience with Mr. Camington's impertinence, Sophy." laughing immoderately. "Modesty forbids you to say more, I suppose. You know the anecdote, Sophy," and he tapped his forehead significantly. 66 Pshaw, Edward! there is 'no vanity in my mere acknowledgment of the truth, is there?" "Truly not," said Mrs. Leslie; " every one knows how much admiration Sophy can command here; and we should be prouder of it, courted as she is, even now that we are so much reduced, than when we were in the midst of our prosperity." "Certainly, ma'am," returned Edward, taking his hat up; "I feel gratified by Sophy's success in the world, but I cannot rejoice that she is becoming a mere spoiled child of fashion, with nothing but dress from morning till night, and her pretty looks to be thought of. However, I bid you good morning, each and all, as I have an engagement which is decidedly imput-off"Pedibus cum jambis," slyly put in her bro-able;" and he left the house, his mother somether, as he entered the room. Now, papa! who said that? But seriously, mamma," continued the spoiled beauty, "what can I do? Oh that bapk! that bank! why did it break? Here am I, who once possessed the prettiest equipage in town, forced to depend on others, or go-❞ "Et tu brute! Come, mamma, do let us leave papa and Edward to croak en duo.” 66 No, no, Sophy," said her brother, laughing, "I want you to attend this famous ball. Will you go with your humble servant?” "With you! in what, I should like to know? Some contemptible vehicle with two seats, to have my white crape tumbled, and all chiffonée. Not with you, good brother, many thanks to you." "What say you to the omnibus, Sophy?" said her father, who delighted in deriding what he termed " my lady duchess's notions." A burst of laughter succeeded this speech, which was received with great good humour by its object. "There are the Howards, my dear," said Mrs. Leslie. "Yes, mamma; but there are cousins enough in the family to be called Legion." "How shockingly unfashionable to have so many cousins!" said Mr. Leslie, with a show of great indignation. "I have no patience with them, either." 66 Papa! is it not almost time that you were at the office?" asked Sophy, smiling. "Not quite, my love; I am unable to leave you and your mother in such a disagreeable state of incertitude." "Ah! thank you, most obliging of fathers. I shall endeavour to procure your absence as soon as possible. Mamma, I shall go with the Livingstons; they are always glad to have me, as an attraction to their circle of acquaintances." "Bravo! bravo!" exclaimed young Leslie, what displeased, and Sophy a little more thoughtful for his speech. 66 I wonder what dictionary Edward uses," said George, whose studies had not progressed very far during the preceding dialogue. 66 The original Leslie on Lexicography, sonny," said his second sister Ellen, a pretty girl of sixteen, who had been in vain trying to get over the second chapter of Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, a reading task her father imposed on her during her vocations. Five times had she begun, "But whatever may be the cause of sympathy, or however it may be excited," and as many times did she lay down her book, finding her own sympathy too much excited by the conversation around her to attend to its con tents. "Trève to your bons mots, children," said her mother, as Ellen answered her little brother's observation; "George, mind your lesson, and don't talk when you are not required to do so." "No, ma'am," said George, very humbly, but wondering much in his own mind if people, his mother particularly, only spoke when necessity demanded it. "If the Livingstons have engaged any one, Sophy, you can go with Mrs. Harvy Campbell. She is very obliging, and, moreover, very fond of you." "True enough, my dear mother, but-" and Sophy shook her head rather contemptuously, "she drives a one-horse carriage. Anything but that! I cannot be seen in a conveyance so utterly plebeian." "Ha! ha! ha!" almost screamed Mr. Leslie, tossing the Morning Chronicle down, and laugh. ing with all his might. "Shocking! a one-horse, carriage! a mere barouche, with three seats for the family and one for the driver! If people think so meanly of Mrs. Campbell's vehicle and its one offending horse, how must they judge miserable nonentities like ourselves, who have no carriage at all? Oh, aristocrats and democrats! big bugs and parvenus, do not overpower us! A one-horse carriage! I cannot remain here, my dears! George, ring the bell, my man! I want my hat and cane! Sophy, I see that nothing short of the omnibus will do for you! It is the largest equipage in town, and has two horses. I'll call for you myself this afternoon, and we can shame poor Mrs. Campbell by stopping at her door and leaving cards," and Mr. Leslie left the room, his merriment unsubdued, and Sophy's brains more unsettled than ever about Mrs. Camington's great ball! A few hours later, as she sat over her sewing, little George came running breathless into her room, with the news he proudly informed her he had been requested to tell. to-morrow, and will have some acquaintance with Dr. Vernon before Thursday arrives. I always like to know people before I meet them at balls, and of course he will be at Laurel Grove with the rest of the world. Introductions are such bores, and strangers always stupid during the first quadrille." And yet, Sophy, I do not like to hear you acknowledge that you are ever stupid, even with a stranger. I am anxious to see you well married, my love," continued her mother, who had ideas of a splendid establishment for her daughter. "And I wish you to be always agreeable and amiable to every one-aimable I should say (Mrs. Leslie was rather vain of her knowledge of French, and used every cant phrase she could conveniently throw in her conversation). Be popular-popularity is everything, for all opinions go with the tide of general opinions. I do not fear for your succés de société. That is and has been at the summit of my most exalted hopes. But take care that you look not more pleased with some than with others, unless, indeed, you exclude those whose intimacy can be productive neither of benefit nor pleasure. When "Sister Sophy, Miss Margaret Livingston is down stairs with her sister and a gentleman, who, she told me to tell you, is the glass mould-symptoms of la belle passion show themselves in and-and-the "Glass of fashion, you little simpleton," said Sophy, hastily. "Am I dressed well enough, Ellen?" 66 "Yes, yes, sister; do not alter one thing. That sweet morning dress is exquisite, and so becoming to your pink cheeks and white skin. Leave your hair as it is," continued Ellen, gazing affectionately at her really beautiful sister, "you are perfectly coiffée." "Well, well, dear," said Sophy, whose glance in the glass convinced her that Ellen was right, "give me my handkerchief; now, one drop of vervain, and I am gone." In a quarter of an hour she ran up stairs with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes. 66 Well, who was it, Sophy?" said her mother. "Julia and Margaret, mamma, with young Dr. Vernon. You recollect him, do you not? He went away some four or five years ago, before my time, of course, and has been from the North to the South Pole. He is wealthy, clever, and very accomplished." "What a host of discoveries in fifteen minutes!" said her mother, smiling. "Oh, Julia came back into the drawing-room for the purpose of informing me. Entre nous she is not a little vain of her present chaperonage, as she calls it, of Dr. Vernon, and these morning visits are performed with the desire of showing themselves and the distinguished stranger' together. After all, he might have had worse cicerones," added Sophy, feeling a little ashamed of her comments on her visitors, as she tore up a sheet of paper, upon which she had written, "My dear Julia," before they called. "They asked me to go to Mrs. Camington's with them, mamina; thereby saving me the mortification of finishing my note of inquiry, which would have been sent, but for the arrival of this lion physician. I am to spend the evening there any one of your various admirers, then, if he is a bon parti, you may allow yourself to be-what shall I call it now ?-monopolized by one individual." This was the advice of a worldly mother, who thought more of her daughter's dress and appearance than of her mind or heart. But Sophy was not to be entirely spoiled by such counsel. She was good, amiable, principled, and generous, all- - but independent of the "world's dread laugh"-the result of her education; and it was to her credit that her mother's erroneous opinions had not greater effect on a soul really capable of noble and generous purposes. The next evening Sophy and Edward were at Mrs. Livingston's, where a select party had been invited to meet Dr. Vernon. He, the honoured guest, made his appearance some time after the rest had assembled. This young Leslie fancied was done for the purpose of showing how gracefully he could enter a room, but inwardly begged his pardon, as he heard him tell Margaret Livingston that his delight at meeting an old and valued friend had detained him later than courtesy should have done. "But you will excuse me, perhaps," he concluded his apology, "when I tell you that Mrs. Campbell was the dearest friend of my sister, and a playmate of mine years ago." "Do you mean Mrs. Harvy Campbell?" said Margaret, looking a little astonished, for she shared Sophy's contempt of anything like an absence of wealth. "I heard her call her husband Harvy," said Dr. Vernon, smiling. "She was not married when I left America; but I am glad to find Mr. Campbell a man every way worthy of Maria's true merit." "I never hear her name without thinking of her one-horse carriage, and her obliging offers to |