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The all she was, when first in life's young spring,
Like the gay bee-bird on delighted wing,
She stooped to coll the boney from each Aower
That bares its breast in joy's luxuriant bower!
O er her pure forehead, pale as moonlit snow,
Her ebon locks are parted,-and her brow
Stands forth like morning from the shades of night,
Serene, though clouds hang over it. The bright
And searcbing glance of her Ithuriel eye,
Migbt even the sternest hypocrite defy
To meet it unappalled ; 'twonld almost seem,
As though, epitomized in one deep beam,
Her full collected soul upon the heart,
Whate'er its mask, she sirove at once to dart;
And few may brave the talisman that's hid
'Neath the dark finges of her drooping lid.

Patient in suffering, she has learned the art
To bleed in silence and conceal the smart,
And thence, though quick of feeling, bath been deemed
Almost as cold and loveless as she seemed;
Because to fools she never would reveal
Wounds they would probe-without the power to heal,
No,-whatso'er the visions that disturb
The fountain of lier thoughts, she knows to carb
Each outward sign of sorrow, and suppress-
Even to a sigh-all tokens of distress.
Yet some, perliaps, with keener vision than
The crowd, that pass her by unnoted, cao,
Through well dissembled smiles, at times, discern
A settled anguish that would seem to burn
The very brain it feeds upon; and when
This mood of pain is on her, then, oh! then,
A more than wonted paleness ot the cheek, –
And, it may be, a flitting hectic streak,
A tremulous motion of the lip or eye, -
Are all that anxious friendship may descry,

Reserve and womanly pride are in hier look,
Though tempered into meekness : she can brook
Unkinduess and neglect from those she loves,
Because she feels it undeserved; which proves,
That firm and conscious rectitude hath power
To blunt Fate's darts in sorrow's darkest hour,
Ay, anprovoked, injustice she can bear
Without a sigh-almost withont a tear,
Save such as hearts internally will weep,
And they ne'er rise the barning lids to steep;
But to those petty wrongs which half defy
Human forbearance, she can make reply
With a prond lip, and a contempluous eye.

There is a speaking sadness in ber air,
A bue of languor o'er her features fair,
Born of no common grief; as though Despair
Had wrestled with her spirit-beep o'erthrowi, –
And these the trophies of the strife alone.
A resigaation of the will, a calm
Deriv'd from pure religion (that sweet balm
For wounded breasts) is seated on her brow,
And ever to the tempest bends she now,
Even as a drooping lily, which the wind
Sways as it lists. The sweet affections bind
Her sympathies to eartb ; her peaceful soul
Has long aspired to that immorial goal,
Where pain and anguish cease to be our lot,
And the world's cares and frailities are forgot!

way's called upon-but if his father sent him to fetch any thing late at night, and the road lay by the churchyard, or any other dismal place, he would say, "Oh, father, I'm afraid !” But the young one had no feelings of this sort, so that when they used to sit round the fire of an evening, telling stories that made their blood run cold, and one said, “Oh ! I'm frightened,” and another, “Oh, it frightens me so," he used to say, “« I'm frightened,—what does that mean? It must be something clever. I should like to learn to be frightened."

Now it happened that his father said to him one day, “ You, Sir, sitting there in the corner, you are getting a great strong fellow, and ought to get your own living. Your brother works hard enough; but you don't earn salt to your porridge.” “Well, father," said he, “I should like to learn to be afraid, for I don't at all understand it." His brother laughed when he heard this, althoug he was shocked to think that his brother was an idiot: but his father sighed: “Well, you shall soon learn to be afraid, but I don't think you will earn much by knowing it.”

Soon after this, the sexton of the village called upon the old man, who told him all his troubles, and what anxiety he felt about his son, who was so clumsy and ignorant, that he could not learn any thing to get his own living. “Only think!” said he, “when I asked what he wished to learn to earn his bread by, he said, he should like very much to learn to be afraid.” “Well,” said the sexton, “ send him to me for awhile, and I'll soon teach him that." The father was pleased enough when he heard this, and soon dispatched him to the sexton, who employed him to toll the bell.

After he had been with him a couple of days, the old sexton woke him at midnight, and bade him go to the belfry and toll the bell—“ You will soon learn, my fine fellow, what it is to be afraid !” and, as soon as he saw the young lad preparing to do as he was told, he slipped out by another door, and placed himself in the belfry, in hopes the youth would think it a ghost.

Accordingly, when the young man came to the church tower, he saw a figure standing in the corner. “Who's there? cried he; but the figure never moved. Then he continued—“Who are you? what do you want here at this time of night?-if you don't answer me, I'll pitch you down headlong.” But the sexton thought he would certainly not have sufficient courage to attempt such a thing ; so he kept perfectly quiet. Then the young man called out for the third time, but as he still got no answer, he laid hold of the ghost, pitched him out, and broke his neck; and when he had done so, tolled the bell, as he had been ordered, and then went home and went to bed, without saying a word to anybody.

The sexton's wife watched for her husband for a long time, and at last began to feel anxious that he did not return. She awoke the lad and said, “ Do you know where my good man is staying all this time? He went out to the belfry, - and has not yet returned.” “No," said the boy—but there was somebody standing there in a corner who would not answer me when I called out, so I pitched him into the churchyard-you can go and see whether it is he or not." The woman ran in a great fright to the churchyard, and there she found her hus. band lying dead upon the ground.

Then she ran screaming to the boy's father, and cried-“ Your good-for-nothing son has thrown my poor husband from the church tower into the churchyard, and

OF ONE THAT WENT FORTH TO LEARN TO

BE AFRAID.

There was an old man who had two sons, the elder of whom was a sharp, clever lad, able to help himself, but the younger one was a silly youth, who could not learn or understand any thing ; and the people, when they spoke of him, would shake their heads and say, he would give his poor father a great deal of trouble. So that when there was any thing to do, the elder one-was al.

was.

bioke his neck." The father was shocked to hear it, and scolded the boy for his folly; but his talking was all thrown away upon him. “Why,” said the boy,“it's no fault of mine; he stood there in a corner as if he was no good, and I did not know who it was. I called out to him three times. Why didn't he go his way?" “ Ah cried his father, “ you were born to disgrace me, get away about your business; I'll have nothing more to do with you.” “Well, father, just as you please ; only wait till it is daylight, and then I'll start, and learn to be afraid, so that I may know a trade that will support me.” “Learn what you like,” said his father, so it is all one to me; here are fifty dollars—go your ways, and tell no man who you are, or who your father is—for I am ashamed of you.”—“Well, father, just a you please.”

At day-break, accordingly, up he got, put his fifty dollars into his pocket, and set off on his journey, crying, as he went along—“Oh, that I could learn to be afraid!" And as he journeyed on, a man who was passing heard his cry, and when they had got on a little farther, seeing a gibbet by the road side, said to the lad, • Do you see yonder tree, where those seven fellows have been marrying the ropemaker's daughter--sit down under it till midnight, and you'll soon know what it is to be afraid.” “Indeed," said he: “well, I can easily do that—and if I really learn to be afraid, I'll e'en give you my fifty dollars, if you only meet me here again, early to-morrow morning."

No sooner had he said this, than he took his station under the gibbet, and there watched till nightfall; and, as the evening was very cold, he lighted himself a fire: but at midnight the wind blew so heavily, that, in spite of the fire, he could not keep himself warm. The wind, too, drove the dead men one against another, and as they swung backwards and forwards over his head, he said to himself, “ here am I shivering, who am close to the fire—those poor fellows up there may well tremble and shake;" and, being a very good-natured fellow, he must needs take the ladder, go up, and cut down, one after ariother, the whole seven of them. Then he stirred up the fire, blew it, and placed them in a circle round it, that they might get themselves warm. And there they sat, and never moved, although the fire scorched their clothes. At last he said to them, “If you don't behave yourselves properly, I shall take and hang you up again." But the gallows-birds never heard him, so they never stirred ati inch, but let their old rags burn away. This made him angry, so he said, "If you will not take care of you.selves, I cant't help you, but I don't intend to burn myself with you;'' and then he strung them up again upon the gibbet.

And as soon as he had done this, he sat himself down by the fire, and slept till morning, when the man came for the fifty dollars that he had promised him. “Now,” said he, “you know what is to be afraid, don't you?” “ No,” said the boy, "how should I ?- those fellows up there have never opened their mouths, and are such a pack of blockheads, that they let the fire scorch the very rags that they have got on.” Then the man saw di, rectly that he should not get the fifty dollars, and as he turned away, he said to himself, “Well, I never met with such a fellow before in my life.”

Then the lad continued his journey, and, as before, kept crying, “Oh, that I could be frightened-Oh, that I could learn to be afraid !” Presently a wagonner over.

took him, and hearing what he said, asked him who he

“I don't know," said the boy. “Where do you come from?” said the waggoner, “I don't know," continued the boy. “Who is your father.” “I mustn't say," was the reply. “What is this that you are harping upon ?” “Why, I want to be frightened, and can't get any body to show me how." “Don't talk such a pack of nonsense,” said the waggoner, "only come with me, I'll soon manage that for you.” So the lad went with him, and when it was evening, they entered a hostelry, where they were to pass the night; and as they went into the house, the boy set up his usual cry, “Oh, that I could learn to be afraid !" When the landlord heard this, he laughed, and said, if that was all he wanted he should soon be accommodated. But his wife interfered and said, so many had already perished in trying to do what the landlord was talking of, that it would be a shame and a sin to let such a good-looking lad never see daylight again. But the lad said “Let it be ever so hard, I shall be glad to learn it- I left home on purpose to do so,"—and he would not let mine host rest, until such time as he told him of an enchanted castle in the neighbourhood, wherein any one who watched for three nights, would very soon learn to be frightened. He told him, besides, that the king had promised that whosoever should spend three nights in that castle, should marry his daughter, who was the most beautiful princess on whom the sun eyer shone : for that the castle was filled with treasures guarded by ghosts, and which could only be obtained by him who staid there for three whole nights. Many had entered the castle, but none had yet come out of it again. All this did not intimidate the lad, who went next morning to the king, and said that, if his majesty would permit him, he should like to keep watch in the enchanted castle for three nights. The king was pleased with the offer, and granted his request; and said, besides, that he would let him take with him into the castle any three things he pleased, that had not life. So the boy asked for a fire, a turning-lathe, and a wood-carver's table and knife.

The king accordingly gave orders, that the things that he required should be sent into the castle, and when night came, the lad went into the castle, lighted a bla. zing fire in one of the apartments, placed the carver's table by his side, and seated himself on the lathe. “Ah,” cried he, “I wish I could be frightened ; but there seems 'but little chance of that herc.” At midnight, however, just as he was making up his fire afresh, he heard some cats in one corner of the room, mewing and crying, How cold it is, how cold it is !" " Well, you fools,' said he, “why do you stand crying there; if you are cold, why don't you come to the tire and warm yourselves ?" Scarcely had he said the word, before two tremendously large black cats sprang from their hiding. place, seated themselves by his side, and glowered upon him with their fiery eyes. er some little time, when they had thorougly warmed themselves, they asked him if he would have a game at cards. “With all my heart," said the boy, “but I must first look at your paws:” so they stretched out their claws that he might see them. “Ah, your nails are a great deal too long ; I must first trim them a bit.” So saying, he seized the cats by the neck, took them to the carver's table, and screwed them fast by their feet. “ Since I saw your ugly paws,' said he, “I have no longer felt inclined to play cards with you I can dispense with your company;" accord, ingly he knooked them on the head, and threw them into the moat.

But, no sooner had he put these visitors to rest and returned to the fire, than an immense number of black cats and black dogs, in glowing chains, kept flocking from all parts of the room, so that it was in vain for him to think of concealing himself: they howled shockingly, and kept knocking the fire about and trying to put it out. He bore all this very patiently for a little while ; but at last he got out of temper, seized hold of his knife, and exclaiming, “Holloa ! you pack of ragamuffins, pack off with you!"-began dealing his blows among them. A great part of them made their escape, and the rest he slew and threw into the moat.

When he came back again, he blew the embers and made up a roaring fire and warmed himself. And the warmth of the fire and his exertions made him feel drowsy, and he felt that all he could do, he could not keep his eyes open-so, spying a lage bed in one corner of the apartment, he went and laid himself down upon it. And just as he was dropping off to sleep, the bed began to move of itself, and to traverse every part of the castle. “ Bravo," said he, “that is nice; it could not be better." The bed kept on, as if six horses had been put to it, and went up the stairs and through the door-ways, up and down, hop, hop, and tramp, tramp, from the very top to the very bottom of the castle; and there he lay upon it the whole time. At length he threw off the bed-clothes, got off the bed, and saying “Now you may go wherever you like,” sat himself down by the fire, and there slept till day-break.

In the mornivg, when the king came and saw him iying on the ground, he thought he had been destroyed by evil spirits, and was dead ; and he was grievously aflicted. But when the young man heard his moanings, he jumped up, and said there was nothing the matter. Whereat the king was much rejoiced, and asked how he had spent the night ? “Oh, well enough,” said the boy ; one night is already gone the other two will soon follow it." Then he went and called upon the innkeeper, who stared at him with the greatest astonishment, and said, “Well, I never thought to have seen you again alive. Have you now learnt what it is to be afraid ?" “No,” said he, “that I have not; I only wish some one would teach me."

When the second night came, he returned to the old castle, seated himself by his fire, and began his customary cry, “Oh, that I could learn to be afraid !” To. wards midnight, he heard a noise and a bustle; at first it was very soft, then it got louder; then it was still for a little while ; and at last there was a great cry, and half a man's body came down the chimney, and fell right before him. “Heyday!" said he, “ what, is there only balf of you? this is too little.” Then the noise began afresh ; there was a blustering and a howling, and pre, sently down came the other half. “Oh, very well," said he, "wait a little, while I blow the fire." And when he had done so, and looked round again, lo, and behold! the two halyes had joined themselves together, into a very terrific fellow, and had taken his place. " That won't do,” said the boy, “that is my place, and I'll have

The man would have kept possession, but our hero vas too strong for him, and thrust him out of it. Then there fell down the chimney plenty more such men, who brought with them nine thigh-bones and two skulls, and played at skittles with them. This was a game the lad No. XXXXI. FOL. IV.

liked, and he asked them to let him play. “Yes, to be sure," was the answers "if you have got any money." • Money enough,” said he ; but your balls are not quite round.” Then he took them, placed them in the lathe, and turned them till they were perfectly round. “Now they'll roll better; let us play merrily." He began, and lost a little money to them; he might perhaps, have won it again, but no sooner did the clock strike twelve, than the whole party vanished from his sight, and there was nothing left for him to do, but to lay himself by the fire, and sleep till morning. Then the king came to him again, and inquired of him how he had passed the second night. The boy told him he had played at skittles, and lost a trifle; but the king asked him if he had not been frightened ?" Frightened !” said she boy, "I was metry enough; I only wanted to be frightened.”

On the third night he seated himself at his old seat, and began saying quite peevishly, “Oh, that I could but be frightened.” And when it got late, there came into the room six men, bearing a coffin, “ Ab,” said he, “that is certainly my little bed," and he beckoned to it with his finger, and cried, “Come, little bed, come.” The men put the coffin down on the ground, and he must needs go and lift off the lid, and when he did so he saw a dead man in it; and he put his hand upon the face of the dead man, and it was as cold as ice. "Well," thought he, “ I'll see if I can warm him a little bit;" -then he went to the fire, warmed his hands, and rubbed the face of the dead man, but it got never the warmer. So he took him out of the coffin, and, seating himself before the fire, took him in his lap, and rubbed his arms to try and warm them. But all his efforts were of no avail; and at last he recollected that when two people lay in the same bed, they warm one another : so he took the corpse to his bed, covered it well over, and laid himself down beside it. After a little while, the dead man became warm, and began to move about. Then said the lad to him, “Well, bedfellow, I have warmed you at last." But the dead man got up and cried, “Now will I strangle you.” “What,

" said he,

" are these the thanks I am to have ?- very well, you shall go back to your coffin for this." He then seized upon him, threw him in, and fastened down the lid ; and when he bad done so, in came the six men again and bore it away. -"Alas !” cried he, there is no chance of my being frightened, I shall not learn it if I pass my life here."

Just then, there entered a man who was far bigger than the other had been, and a very terrific looking fellow; but he was old, with a very long white beard: and he said to the lad, “You shall soon learn what it is to be frightened, for you

shall die.” “Not so quick.” answered he, “ you must get my consent first." Said the man, “I will soon master you.'

“ Don't make yourself too sure of that,” said the boy. “I am as strong as you, if not stronger.".—“Stronger indeed! that we shall see; come, let us go and try our strength' Then he led him through a long dark passage till they came to a smithy, and there took an axe, and with one blow drove an anril into the earth. “I can beat than," said the boy, and went to the other anvil ; the old man keeping so close, (in order to watch him the better) that bis white beard hung upon it. Then the lad seized the axe, and split the anvil at one blow. and jammed his beard into the cleft. “Now I have got you," cried he, "and yon it is who sball dje ;” and seizing an iron bar, he laid on

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No doubt every pleasure you're greeting

But pray my dear Carry reflect, You'll soon find those pleasures are fleeting,

All this, love, of course you expect; No beautiful ride of a morning,

No fèle,--and no pleasant soirée
In wedlock --so dearest be scorning

That terrible sentence-"obey."
He praises your voice and your beauty,

You have not a fault he can blame
He raves about conjugal duly,

And many more things I could name;
I dare say you'll be very foolish

And not heed a word that I say,
If you do wed ;-bebave rather coolish,

Love, honor, but never obey.

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AN INCIDENT IN MY SCHOOL BOY DAYS.

so lustily, that the old fellow roared with pain, and promised that if he desisted he would give him great riches. The lad accordingly realesed him, and followed him into the vaults of the castle, where the old man showed him three chests of gold--one for the poor, one for the king, and one for himself.

At that minute the clock struck twelve-the spirit vanished, and the lad was left in total darkness; howe. ver, he contrived to grope his way back again to his room, and soon fell asleep by the fire side. On the following morning came the king again, saying, “Well, have you learnt what it is to be afraid ?” “No," said he, “who was to teach me? I have seen nobody but a dead fellow, that I put into my bed, and an old man with a beard, who showed me where the riches were: how should I learn it then ?"' «Well," said the king, “ you have delivered the castle from enchantment, and shall, therefore, marry my daugther.” “ That is all very well, but still I don't know what it is to be frightened.”

The gold was removed, the wedding took place, and the young king, though he loved his wife very much, and had every thing to make him happy, was always crying, “Oh, that I could' but be frightened ?" And his wife's waiting-woman said, “It shall be hard but I will teach you what it is to be afraid.” And she had a

arge barrel, filled with water and little fishes, and at night, while he was sleeping, his attendants went in and pulled off the bed clothes, and threw the water and fishes over him, and the fishes leaped and sprung about, and the water awoke him: then he jumped up and cried out, “I am frightened, I am frightened, dearest wife; now I have learned what it is to be afraid !"

[From " Lays and Legends of various nations" an interesting work now in the course of publication. This is a work we have long wished to see, and can cordially recommend it to those of our readers who my be interested in legendary lore.]

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“ LOVE, HONOR AND OBEY." BY J. E. CARPENTER, ESQ. AUTHOR OP

RHYMES ; OR LAYS OF LONDON.

In the town of Fulham, an Academy was kept by a Mr. Day, of flogging memory-I shall never forget him.

To this school I was sent, and improved more in half a year under this consumer of birch, than I had done the two preceding years. During my infancy, I had been terrified into compliance by my nurse with tales of ghosts and hobgoblins: these ideas still remained, though my mother took every method to eradi. cate them. Mr. Day's seminary, and our house, were parted merely by the church-yard; and as I wandered among the tombs on my return from school, though not possessed of thoughts on night, like the angelic Young, I had young night thoughts enough to throw me into a perspiration whenever I came there. pened one evening that I could not get through my task for attending to stories other boys were relating near me: one in particular asserted, that if any person would say the Lord's prayer backwards, as he went through the church-yard, the devil would appear. This alarmed me much ; and though I should have had no objection to see any one else make the experiment, I was determined to avoid even thinking of it as I went home.-My task not perfect, it was eight o'clock before I was liberated,—the night pitchy dark, and stormy. I had advanced as far as the church-yard, endeavouring to drive the story of the prayer backwards out of my head, but in vain; I could not help reflecting how odd it must sound-how difficult to repeat, and was trying a word or two, when, in the footpath, though at a considerable distance, I saw a glimmering light, not constant, but at intervals. I stopped irresolute-terror worked so fast on my imagination, that ere I had well perceived its object, my hair stood on end-my knees trembled under me—I had a fearful certainty it was the devil, and that my attempt at the prayer had raised him. What was to be done? Turn back to school? ...No! I would as soon face his satanic majesty as do that.---No getting home without passing the light, or going round the church, and then perhaps he might meet

me on the other side. Terrified beyond description, I saw no way but one ;-as attempting the prayer backward had raised this fiend, surely saying it the right way would lay him again ; so down I dropped on my knees in the dirt, and began; but, to my astonish. ment and dismay; it produced a contrary effect, the light approached in a direct line, and seemingly very fast: I redoubled my volubility, and repeated the words

RANDOM

'Tis rumonred in town my dear Carry,

(I dont mean to say that 'tis true) That you very shortly will marry

Your cousin youug Harry Prideau, Your rank is a little above him,

And Harry is partial to play, No doubt you would " honor and love" him

But Caroline could you“ obey?”
Forgive me-for 'tis my intention

To offer some friendly advice,
So I " in this present” will mention

Each little finesse and device,
Eraployed by the men thus to blind us,

Believe me, dear Caroline Grey, Too surely you'll find that they bind us

To honour-to love - and obey. Whatever you do, love, keep single,

I've not had a moment of peace Since I married Sir Joshua Pringle,

Because he had tray'led in Greece, I thought he was very romantic,

I've found that he's not very gay, 'Tis enough to turn any girl frantic To think she must wed -and obsy.

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was admitted into the parlour, and after some refresh. ment, my mother concluded the evening in the following

manner:

" I hope, Sir, you now see the folly of listening to idle stories invented by servants to frighten children ; and whith, I am sorry to see, the pains which I have bestowed in forming your principles, have not been able to preserve you from. Call sense and reflection to your aid, and you will see the wickedness of supposing, even for a moment, that the great Author of nature should break his laws merely to alarm an insignificant individual.

PUBLIC EXHIBITIONS, &c.

An account of some of the most attractive amusements of the metropolis will appear in our next, in the mean time, we will take every opportunity of inspecting those exhibitions, &c., which we may deem most worthy of notice—The Practical Gallery of Science.Mr. Huggins' “ Pictures of the Battle of Trafalgar," with his beautiful miscellaneous collection. ingenious" Model of the Human Figure," by Signor Serantoni. The Picture Exhibitions in Pall Mall. The “ Bonnington Gallery," &c.- the latter of which, en passant, is deserving of more encouragement from the admirers of British talent shall each come under our notice.

The very

REPENTIR.

as quick as I could articulate; when, lo! the spectre stood within a few paces of me, and I had a view of his horrible front. In size it bore some resemblance to a human figure the countenance was perfectly black, with eyes that looked like globes of fire, and a mouth of horrible dimensions. Over the head, and reaching to the ground, was thrown something that appeared like the pall used at burials; in his hand he bore a burning torch, which ever and anon he held towards me in a menacing posture; then said, with a hollow voice, and accents which froze my blood, “What! have I found you?"

Unable to sustain myself under circumstances which appeared so orrific, I fell on my face, and roared like a bull; in which situation I was taken up by this tremendous apparition, and wafted through the air, as I thought, to some infernal region, where I was laid upon the ground, keeping my eyes shut, fearful of encountering more dreadful objects. My hands were then seized, and bastinadoed with great fury; my nose was next assailed by fumes of brimstone: this done I had a moment's rest, and lay as still as death, that I might not by impatience, incur the displeasure of my infernal tormentors.

After a short silence my hand was again taken, though not quite so roughly as before, and a well-known voice, in plaintive accents, sighed forth-"My child my child! art thou gone for ever!" In a moment I opened my eyes, and found myself at home, my mother bathing my hand with her tears, and the fanıily waiting in sad expectation of my death. Staying longer at than usual at school, together with the darkness of the night, had alarmed my mother, and Kit was dispatched in search of me, with a flambeau and my father's roque. laure, the hood of which he had pulled over his head. When he approached me, and beheld me with uplifted hands and face, seemingly convulsed, the poor fellow concluded I was in a fit, he therefore ran like lightning home; Kit and Mrs. Betty gave me the bastinado upon my hands, whilst my mother's smelling-bottle appeared to my terrified imagination like sulphurons fumes, till her voice encouraged me to look round.

My parent's joy at my recovery was not to be described, and only equalled by her anger when she knew the cause of this alarm. The ehurch clock proclaimed the hour of ten, and supperless I was going to bed, when my mother threw on her cloak, and bade me follow: like a criminal l obeyed; she advanced through the burial ground till we came to the church porch, where I was commanded to remain till the clock struck eleven, or never presume to appear qefore her again. Too well acquainted with her firmness to hazard a word in opposition, I sat terrified, trembling, and forming ten thousand horrible ideas which the objects around me helped to promote. I listened to my parent's receding steps till they were no longer discernible ; all was dark and silent, except the whistling of the wind through an old hollow yew tree which hung over the porch : and by its malancholy motion increased that terror which the time and place naturally eonspired to create. The coldness of a December night was unfelt-perspiration issued at every pore; I was “distilled almost to jelly with my fears,'' when the voice of honest Christopher, more welcome to my ears sethan dew to the parched earth,” relieved me from this fearful bondage. The clock struck eleven, Kit climbed over the wall, I knocked at the door,

Dans ma froide raison rempli de confiance,
J'avais dit: Nul amour ne saura m'enflammer,
Et dès lors j'excellai dans l'aride science

De plaire sans aimer.
Près des femmes mon caur sut feindre la tendresse;
Je devins, composant ma voix et mon regard,
Jaloux avec fureur, timide avec adresse,

Et simple a force d'art.
Mais l'amour peut glacer la voix qui le blasphème.
Contre un doute mortel anjourd'hui je combats,
J'ai profané l'amonr, et la senle que j'aimne

Hélas ! ne me croit pas !
Tout lui paraît on jen, mes soupirs, mon silence.
Je prie, elle se tait; je me plains, elle rit.
Ma colère à ses yeux n'est que de l'éloquence;

Mon amour, de l'esprit:
trop juste snpplice! ô trahison punie!
Mon cour désespéré demande chaqne jour
Un mot à la douleur, un accent au génie,

Pour attester l'amour !
Mais hélas ! le bonheur s'apprend par l'espérance,
L'æil reconnait de loin no objet souhaite ;
Elle ne prat trouver qu'en son indifférence

Tant d'incrédulité !
Ah! si son jeune cæor do mien rèvait l'empire,
Elle en croirait mes vous, mon regard, mon accent :
L'amour cberche l'amour, et, dans ce qu'il inspire,
Reconnaît ce qu'il seni!

EMILE GIRARDIN.

[We would be happy if any of our poetical subscribers would send us a translation of the above verses, Ed. B. M.]

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