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that.

“Oh! only one of Blanche's friends," re-, Challoner, heartily. Julia seemed to say, by her plied Harry

eyes, “ I have at last found a kindred spirit.” Only one of Blanche's friends,” cried I. I led her down to dinner; dashed finely ; “ What a very uncourteous speech!”

told good stories, piquant anecdotes, improvised "Well

, I only mean, she is-not anybody in jokes and verses ; discoursed again on wealth, particular.”

its impotence to secure happiness, &c., &c.

Julia's eyes, if they did not " “Not anybody in particular,” said I; “ she most certainly “adjudged the prize” to me.

reign influence," is a spirit, then, and pervades all space!"

She talked of poetry, fortified by my leading “ No, no; she is a young lady, a young lady the way; owned her partiality for Chaucer, who expects to be married of course.'

but was compelled to admit, when questioned, “ Indeed?” I exclaimed, raising my collar that she admired rather than understood him : a little, and half-unconsciously smoothing my in short, I had made a conquest. She assured moustache with my left hand." Is she pretty?" Mrs. Challoner, when they went to the drawing" Not particularly."

room, that I was really charming; and regretted “ Tall ?”

that old Vyvyan would spoil all. She knew he “ Not particularly."

would be dull and disagreeable. “ Rich?”

“ Well," said Mrs. Challoner; " but if he “ Oh, no!- that is, not particularly."

be rich?" “Well, my dear fellow,” cried I, laughing ; “ Ah, then indeed, of course, we must not “I long to see the young lady so free froin par- mind his dulness.” ticularities.”

“ Never mind this young man, Julia,” said “She is particularly sentimental,” answered Mrs. C.; “reserve yourself for Mr. Vyvyan.” Challoner, “ and writes poetry; but since we This conversation Mrs. Challoner repeated to told her you were an unmarried lawyer, and ine in the evening, when Julia was singing; and were coming here, she has been reading • Black- I laughed at the success of my own trick. stone.' But Blanche has led her to believe that When I lay in bed, mentally rehearsing the you are old.”

second and concluding act of our little drama, “ Old !” shouted I.

the thought darted into my head, that I could Yes—that is, you know, she said something not possibly enact Mr. Vyvyan, the "old lawabout being near to the Chancellorship, and all yer," with my moustache. I was able to paint

wrinkles, but how should I get over the mous“ To be sure, to be sure; but Julia will not tache? The only alternative appeared to be to 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. stupid trick, that I ought to be ashamed of (For Challoner, too, was fond of a mirror). being engaged in! Morning came, and at break“ Introduce me,” I continued, “ under a feigned fast all went on well. I was still the polite, name, as-as---anything you like; as Equerry charming, business-hating, Mr. Eversdale. I to the Queen, if she does not study the List of rode with Julia (she really rode well), and we the Household; or-stop-as a clerk in the enjoyed ourselves extremely. I dressed, and reTreasury, with a mortal hatred to business. linquishing kalydor for the nonce, in favour of To-morrow I will put on a wig, and act the old chalk and brown clay, completely disguised my lawyer, and we shall have some fun!"

complexion. But my moustache-that still re“Capital,” said Harry; “I must tell Blanche. mained: what could I do? The dinner-bell rang. Blanche is particularly quick. She will see into Off with it! There lay the razor, glittering it at once, and do her part well.”. Blanche was temptingly in its velvet case: it would be but quite willing, it appeared, and thought it very the work of a moment! My sensations can good sport.

scarcely be conceived; I hesitated-felt I was We presently went to the drawing-room, and I a fool --took up the razor-laid it down again. was soon introduced as Mr. Eversdale to Julia- I should have hesitated longer, but a voice at a fair, languid-looking young lady, in a bright the door announced that Mr. and Mrs. Chalblue satin dress. Mis. Challoner came in, and loner hoped Mr. Vyvyan was well; and took said, “I suppose Mr. Vyvyan will not come now.” the liberty of

the liberty of telling him (as they supposed he “ Vyvyan the lawyer ?" said I. Being answered had not heard the bell), that dinner waited. I in the affirmative, I assured her that he would shaved it off! not come that day, for I had heard him say The loss of my moustache really made me s0; which of course was quite true. Business, rather sad, so I "did" the old lawyer capitally. I suppose,” 'I added, rather angrily, throwing I tried to console myself with the thought that myself at full length on a couch; “Oh, what my hirsute attraction must have come off bemammon-seekers are

men !

Where is that fore next term. freshness of heart, that ideality, that love “ It was a pity Mr. Eversdale was compelled of nature, which ought to reign over us? to leave us so suddenly, on account of his broVyvyan the lawyer! Well, rich as he may ther's illness,” said Mrs. Challoner to Julia. be, give me humble contentment, although “ Oh! he was too noisy,” said she, very I have as good a right to be rich as he. My quietly; "too rackety for Mr. Vyvyan, I am blood is at least as noble.”

“ Yes, yes, that is without doubt," said Mrs. Mr. Vyvyan scarcely spoke, for fear of be

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Eighteen Hundred and Forty-Eight.

33 traying himself by his voice; an assenting or But You've plenty of work if you have but the will, dissenting grunt was at most the amount of his And indeed, I don't think we shall let you stand conversation at dinner. I heard Julia whisper still ! to her friend, “Such a contrast to Mr. Evers- If you could — but you can't; it will take many dale!" I fancied I traced a smile upon her lips,

years, and set it down to the effect of my own attrac- The brightest and best made of hopes, joys, and tions the preceding night. During the evening, To raise up the Wretched from Ignorance' slime, the Challoners proposed a walk in the grounds; And save from the plunge to the Waters of Crime ! and, of course, went away from Julia and me.

But I pray you attempt

look forward, not back, She showed me the conservatories and grounds, Though you leave in your wake a bright silver track. as to a perfect stranger. It was getting quite Rouse the souls that are dormant with eloquent dusk; then I ventured to speak, and to expose, words, as I thought, the impertinence of this match- That are struck from the fire-heart of Genius like hunting young lady. •

swords, “And what do you think of poetry and sen

To storm all the strongholds of error and wrong, timent, the same as other young ladies ?" By the right and the might that to Truth must grunted I, hoping she would contradict what

belong. she had advanced when I was Mr. Eversdale. / Cast the idol of Self from the hearts where its rule “ I think precisely as I did last night, Mr. Making blind, making deaf, making dull every sense,

Corrupts the best natures to fashion a fool ! Vyvyan,” said she, laughing; taking hold of To the soul's truest joys, that are lasting, intense. my hand and looking into my face, “it was a Ah, indeed, if you can but achieve such a feat, good trick, but scarcely worth the moustache !” All the good will rush in, like waters that meet

I rushed in-doors; found Harry, who had been to form a strong river, and bear on its tide laughing at my loss. He told me, Blanche was Humanity onward, with Hope for its guide ; so fond of fun-Julia and she had heard I was Till the baven that Worldlings still doubt and deride, a coxcomb, and agreed to take me down, by Shall be found and be seen by Reality's light, drawing me into some stupid trick that would And the Day that is dawning succeed the world's get rid of my moustache, which Harry had told

Nigbt! them I prized highly. When my anger had a

Dec. 1847. 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 THE SPIRITS OF THE ABBEY. grandfather a few months since, we are to be married very soon. She jokes me with impunity

The moon had risen high, now; but let her beware how, as Mrs. Vyvyan,

The stars shone sweetly fair, she hazards a reference to the moustache!

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
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND FORTY-

In accents sweet and faint :
EIGHT.

“ Farewell thy ancient grace,

Thou abbey of my heart -
Farewell, thou much-loved place,

From which perforce I part.
“ There's a good time coming, boys,

Gone is thy altar's shrine,
A good time coming ;
We may not live to see the day,

Thy paintings soft and fine,
But earth shall glisten in the ray

Thy sculptur'd roof on high,
of the good time coming.

Blue as the cloudless sky-
Cannon balls may aid the truth,

But thought's a weapon stronger;
We'll win our battle by its aid

“Gone is thy organ's sound,
Wait a little longer.”

Which once so sweetly rolled,
Till, lingering, it was drowned

In yon arch'd roof of gold.

No more each silver note
What is the star of thy birth, New Year ?
Is any so learned to prove a seer?

Shall through the still air float,
The ir
Forties” have done pretty well we must own,

As the etherial quire
So You come of a race whose prestige is known;

Was wafted up still higher.
Then pray do not place on their 'scutcheon a blot,
By what you may do or what you-do not.

“ Farewell, for thou must fall, They've work'd pretty bard, those brethren of yours

"Yet grand in thy decay, -For what once took up weeks is now done in

And through thy ruined hall hours.

The wild-flowers gaily stray : There is not (tbank Heaven) a Corn Law for you

And spirits weep o'er theeTo be in at the death, or like hunters pursue.

They mourn and weep with me, And the Factory-child has a thanksgiving said,

In this thy abject time, For the meed of cold justice was poured on her head.

As in thy day of prime."

BY CAMILLA TOULMIN.

CHARLES MACKAY.

D

heart away;

Again an answer fell

Ah ! sure that Evil One now triumphs there,
Upon my listening ear ;

Who first in Paradise brought man despair-
Soft as a silver bell,

Who banish'd Innocence, and Peace, and Joy,
It drove

away
all fear :

And urg'd him first a brother to destroy !
“O say not so,” it cried :

An awful gloom, as of some fun'ral pall, “What though its prime has died,

Now seems upon those blood-stain'à shores to fall;
My sister ! it sleeps here,

And from its depths a cry appears to rise
Where all is sweet and clear.

For retribution, as each victim dies !
Dec. 1847.

E. R. " And to the thinking mind,

Its ivy-cover'd towers
Looks peacefully enshrined
Amidst these vernal bowers.

THE SPIRITS OF THE PAST.
It teaches what man made
Must surely have decayed ;

Darkly they crowd around me, the Spirits of the Past!
But God's works firmly stand

With memories to upbraid me, that, like the moonTo shew his wondrous hand.”

beams cast MEA. A cold and sad reflection, that o'er the woodlands

play, But warming not with cheering light like beams of

blessed day. ON THE PRESENT STATE OF IRELAND.

Sad faces gaze upon me; I neither sigh nor weep; Weep, Erin, weep! Thy sons' dark deeds have cast But one by one they float along, from land and sea A stain on thee, which through long years must last

they creep ; The stain of blood! See, see, it flows around And stealing to my silent hearth the ghostly bands Those homes where peace and gladness once were

appear, found.

And yet my pulse is calm and slow, my eye-balls Worth, kindness, charity, all-all are vain ;

have no tear. The victim ne'er will make them felt again! Oft in the sight of those most dear he dies,

Oh, Mother, turn thy pitying glance from this cold Or lingers but to hear their sorrowing sighs— Or-dreadful hour !-unconscious of his doom, The childish lips that thine have prest have long forHe leaves his dwelling but to find a tomb !

got to pray. From some dark nook comes forth the fatal ball, They glowed beneath the falsest kiss, a false vow The guilty coward triumphs in his fall !

ever wore ; Now cold the hand but late stretch'd forth to aid, And they are stern and prayerless now, and will be Which but repelled who would his rights invade. Oh! ruthless deed, which sheds the stream of life Which dooms an orphan child, a widow'd wife ! Sweet playmate of my early home, why dost thou

haunt me now? Shall such dark crimes yet unaveng'd remain ? Shall murder slumber but to wake again

The days are past when I was pure, and innocent as

thou. Again to aim the blow, unknown, unseen? Shall not stern Justice come, all armed, between ?

Thou canst not trace the form thou lov’dst; thou

find'st me but in nameNot now, with gentle Mercy hov'ring near, To smooth that brow, else sometimes too severe,

How should thy clean and spotless soul now know

me for the same ? To whisper, while the trembling culprit prays, He yet may mend the error of his ways.

Hush ! hush! be still! Oh, raise not thou thy No! even Mercy, shuddering, turns aside

glance of love to me; From those who know her not, and but deride!

Oh, love too blessed for such as me- thy smile I yet Where is the ruffian's home of guilt ? Not there

can see. Where most are seen the forms of want and care;

Oh, direful thought! that thy true heart lay crush'd Such mis'ry pines in many a worthier breast;

beneath my scorn ; He is the oppressor more than the oppress’d.

Hush ! every throe thy heart e'er knew this weary Though dark his doom, his mind is darker still :

one bath known Its deadly power would turn all good to ill. Ye senators of England, why delay?

Oh, com'st thou now, lost love, to soothe this fever. Oh, think that life is ebbing fast away!

madden'd brain ! Quell such black passions with a fierce control,

Call from the long-dried fount of tears one welling That shall inspire with dread the miscreant's soul !

drop again, Arise in all your strength, in all your power

And, like the dew that from the sky the thirsty earth Proclaim stern law, unknown but in such hour,

receives, If that alone such fearful crimes can stay,

Tell o'er once more in grateful love each blessed drop And turn th' assassin's murd'rous arm away.

it gives ? 'Tis sad to slay; but oh! much sadder still, That bad men such as these the good should kill ! Thou canst but come to bless me—thou, still so pure Where are those peasants, once poor Erin's boast ?

and fair; So grateful found to those who serv'd them most, The ghostly tenants of the tomb are round me everyWho with their faults much goodness still combin'd,

where. With hearts so gen'rous, ever warm and kind ? My worn heart o'er a waveless sea in silence broodeth Such, in some wretched forms, are beating still,

on ; That still would scorn to work another's ill.

But moveless, cold, and stern, I weep-I am no more What fiend has cast his spells around that isle

alone, Where Nature in wild beauty seems to smile:

A. S.

evermore,

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his hat up;

CHAPTER 1.

laughing immoderately. “Modesty forbids you

to say more, I suppose. You know the anec“Well, Sophy, how will you go?" said Mrs. dote, Sophy," and he tapped his forehead signiLeslie to her daughter, as the former sat twisting ficantly. a rose-coloured envelop into various shapes. “ Pshaw, Edward ! there is 'no vanity in my

“ I cannot exactly determine, mamma. Go I mere acknowledgment of the truth, is there?” must; for Mrs. Camington's parties are always “ Truly not,” said Mrs. Leslie ; “ every one of that delightful kind called, par excellence-ex- knows how much admiration Sophy can comclusive. The misfortune is, that her husband's mand here ; and we should be prouder of it, mania is farming, and he will live four miles out courted as she is, even now that we are so of town."

much reduced, than when we were in the midst “ Ay, there's the rub!” said her father, looking of our prosperity.” from behind his paper, “ I have no patience with Certainly, ma'am,” returned Edward, taking Mr. Camington's impertinence, Sophy."

“ I feel gratified by Sophy's success Now, papa! who said that? But seriously, in the world, but I cannot rejoice that she is bemamma," continued the spoiled beauty, “what coming a mere spoiled child of fashion, with can I do? Oh that bapk! that bank! why did nothing but dress from morning till night, and it break? Here am I, who once possessed the her pretty looks to be thought of. However, I prettiest equipage in town, forced to depend on bid you good morning, each and all, as I have others, or go-"

an engagement which is decidedly imput-offPedibus cum jambis," slyly put in her bro- able;" and he left the house, his mother somether, as he entered the room.

what displeased, and Sophy a little more thougbtEt tu brute! Come, mamma, do let us ful for his speech. leave papa and Edward to croak en duo.

“ I wonder what dictionary Edward uses," “ No, no, Sophy,” said her brother, laughing, said George, whose studies had not progressed "I want you to attend this famous ball. Will very far during the preceding dialogue. you go with your humble servant?”

• The original Leslie on Lexicography, sonny,” “ With you! in what, I should like to know? said his second sister Ellen, a pretty girl of sixSome contemptible vehicle with two seats, to teen, who had been in vain trying to get over the have my white crape tumbled, and all chiffonée. second chapter of Adam Smith's Theory of Not with you, good brother, many thanks to Moral Sentiments, a reading task her father imyou."

posed on her during her vocations. Five times “ What say you to the omnibus, Sophy?” had she begun, “ But whatever may be the cause said her father, who delighted in deriding what of sympathy, or however it may be excited,” he termed “ my lady duchess's notions.” and as many times did she lay down her book,

A burst of laughter succeeded this speech, finding her own sympathy too much excited by which was received with great good humour by the conversation around her to attend to its conits object.

tents. “ There are the Howards, my dear,” said Mrs. " Trève to your bons mots, children," said her Leslie.

mother, as Ellen answered her little brother's “ Yes, mamma; but there are cousins enough observation; “ George, mind your lesson, and in the family to be called Legion.”

don't talk when you are not required to do so.” “ How shockingly unfashionable to have so “No, ma'am,” said George, very humbly, but many cousins!” said Mr. Leslie, with a show of wondering much in his own mind'if people, his great indignation. “I have no patience with mother particularly, only spoke when necessity them, either.”

demanded it. “ Papa! is it not almost time that you were at “ If the Livingstons have engaged any one, the office" asked Sophy, smiling.

Sophy, you can go with Mrs. Harvy Campbell. “ Not quite, my love; I am unable to leave She is very obliging, and, moreover, very fond you and your mother in such a disagreeable state of you." of incertitude."

** True enough, my dear mother, but--" and “ Ah! thank you, most obliging of fathers. ISophy shook her head rather contemptuously, shall endeavour to procure your absence as soon “ she drives a one-horse carriage. Anything but as possible. Mamma, I shall go with the Living- that! I cannot be seen in a conveyance so utterly stons; they are always glad to have me, as an plebeian." attraction to their circle of acquaintances.”

“ Ha! ha! ha!” almost screamed Mr. Leslie, “ Bravo! bravo !” exclaimed young Leslie, ' tossing the Morning Chronicle down, and laugh. ing with all his might. “ Shocking! a one-horse , to-morrow, and will have some acquaintance carriage! a mere barouche, with three seats for with Dr. Vernon before Thursday arrives. I the family and one for the driver! If people always like to know people before I meet them think so meanly of Mrs. Campbell's vehicle and at balls, and of course be will be at Laurel Grove its one offending horse, how must they judge with the rest of the world. Introductions are miserable nonentities like ourselves, who have no such es, and strangers always stupid during carriage at all? Oh, aristocrats and democrats! the first quadrille.” big bugs and parvenus, do not overpower us! A “ And yet, Sophy, I do not like to hear you one-horse carriage! I cannot remain here, my acknowledge that you are ever stupid, even with dears! George, ring the bell, my man! I want a stranger. I am anxious to see you well marmy hat and cane! Sophy, I see that nothing ried, my love,” continued her mother, who had short of the omnibus will do for you! It is the ideas of a splendid establishment for her daughter, largest equipage in town, and has two horses. And I wish you to be always' agreeable and I'll call for you myself this afternoon, and we can amiable to every one—aimable I should say shame poor Mrs. Campbell by stopping at her (Mrs. Leslie was rather vain of her knowledge door and leaving cards,” and Mr. Leslie left the of French, and used every cant phrase she could room, his merriment unsubdued, and Sophy's conveniently throw in her conversation). Be brains more unsettled than ever about Mrs. Ca- popular--popularity is everything, for all opi; mington's great ball !

nions go with the tide of general opinions. I A few hours later, as she sat over her sewing, do not fear for your succés de société. That is little George came running breathless into her and has been at the summit of my most exalted room, with the news he proudly informed her hopes. But take care that you look not more he had been requested to tell.

pleased with some than with others, unless, in“ Sister Sophy, Miss Margaret Livingston is deed, you exclude those whose intiinacy can be down stairs with her sister and a gentleman, productive neither of benefit nor pleasure. When who, she told me to tell you, is the glass mould— symptoms of la belle passion show themselves in and--and-the

any one of your various admirers, then, if he is " Glass of fashion, you little simpleton,” said a bon parti, you may allow yourself to be—what Sophy, hastily. “Am I dressed well enough, shall I call it now?—monopolized by one indiEllen?”

vidual." Yes, yes, sister; do not alter one thing. This was the advice of a worldly mother, That sweet morning dress is exquisite, and so who thought more of her daughter's dress and becoming to your pink cheeks and white skin. I appearance than of her mind or heart. But Leave your hair as it is,” continued Ellen, gazing Sophy was not to be entirely spoiled by such affectionately at her really beautiful sister, "you counsel. She was good, amiable, principled, are perfectly coiffée."

and generous, all — but independent of the “Well, well, dear,” said Sophy, whose glance“ world's dread laugh ”—the result of her eduin the glass convinced her that Ellen was right, cation ; and it was to her credit that her mo“ give me my handkerchief; now, one drop of ther's erroneous opinions had not greater effect vervain, and I am gone."

on a soul really capable of noble and generous In a quarter of an hour she ran up stairs with purposes. glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes.

The next evening Sophy and Edward were at “Well

, who was it, Sophy ?” said her mother. Mrs. Livingston's, where a select party had been “Julia and Margaret, mamma, with young invited to meet Dr. Vernon.

He, the honoured Dr. Vernon. You recollect him, do you not? guest, made his appearance some time after the He went away some four or five years ago, before rest had assembled. This young Leslie fancied my time, of course, and has been from the North was done for the purpose of showing how grace, to the South Pole. He is wealthy, clever, and fully he could enter a roon, but inwardly begged very accomplished.”

his pardon, as he heard him tell Margaret Living" What a host of discoveries in fifteen mi- ston that his delight at meeting an old and vanutes !” said her mother, smiling,

lued friend had detained him later than courtesy Oh, Julia came back into the drawing-room should have done. you will excuse me, for the purpose of informing me. Entre nous - perhaps,” he concluded his apology, “ when I she is not a little vain of her present chaperonage, tell you that Mrs. Campbell was the dearest as she calls it, of Dr. Vernon, and these morning friend of my sister, and a playmate of mine visits are performed with the desire of shoving years ago.” themselves and the distinguisbed stranger' to- Do

you mean Mrs. Harvy Campbell ?" said gether. After all, he might have had worse Margaret, looking a little astonished, for she cicerones," added Sophy, feeling a little ashamed shared Sophy's contempt of anything like an of her comments on her visitors, as she tore absence of wealth. up a sheet of paper, upon which she had * I heard her call her husband Harvy," said written, My dear Julia,” before they called. Dr. Vernon, smiling. “ She was not married * They asked me to go to Mrs. C: mington's when I left America; but I am glad to find with them, mamma; thereby saving me the mor- Mr. Campbell a man every way worthy of tification of finishing my note of inquiry, which Maria’s true merit.” would have been sent, but for the arrival of this “ I never hear her name without thinking of lion physician. I am to spend the evening there her one-horse carriage, and her obliging offers to

“ But

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