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"Are you there, Loo!" said her brother, looking in at the door. He was quite a young gentleman of pleasure now, and not quite a prepossessing one.

results had been more successful, you would have serene apartment of the hair-cutting character, and been wiser on these points. I will say no more.” leaning her elbow on her hand, looked again at He really liked Sissy too well to have a contempt | the short-lived sparks that so soon subsided into for her; otherwise he held her calculating powers in ashes. such very slight estimation, that he must have fallen upon that conclusion. Somehow or other, he had become possessed by an idea that there was something in this girl which could hardly be set forth in a tabular form. Her capacity of definition might be easily stated at a very low figure, her mathematical knowledge at nothing; yet he was not sure that if he had been required, for example, to tick her off into columns in a parliamentary return, he would have quite known how to divide her.

"Dear Tom," she answered, rising and embracing him, "how long it is since you have been to see me!"

"Why, I have been otherwise engaged, Loo, in the evenings; and in the daytime old Bounderby has been keeping me at it rather. But I touch him up with you, when he comes it too strong, and so we preserve an understanding. I say! Has father said anything particular to you, to-day or yesterday, Loo?"

of all, would weave from the threads he had already spun into a woman. But his factory is a secret place, his work is noiseless, and his Hands are mutes. (To be continued in the August number.)

66

A HAPPY DILEMMA.

"Whe hat a dismal night!" said poor M. Armand, as he looked hopelessly round in search of a fiacre. There was not one to be scen; he must therefore walk to the nearest stand, and that was at no inconsiderable distance. He had just left a brilliant soirée in the Faubourg du Roule-he had passed the preceeding evening at the Ball de l'Opéra-on both occasions he had danced for many hours, and consequently he found himself overwhelmed with wind blew keenly in his face. The young man sighed, and resigned himself to fate. He proceeded

In some stages of his manufacture of the human fabric, the processes of Time are very rapid. Young Thomas and Sissy being both at such a stage of their working up, these changes were effected in a year or two; while Mr. Gradgrind himself seemed sta- "No, Tom. But he told me to-night that he fatigue. The night was damp and foggy, and the tionary in his course, and underwent no alter-wished to do so in the morning." "Ah! That's what I mean," said Tom.

ation.

"Do

Except one, which was apart from his necessary you know where he is to-night?"-with a very deep through the Faubourg du Roule, and down the Ruc progress through the mill. Time hustled him into

:

expression. "No."

a little noisy and rather dirty machinery, in a bye corner, and made him Member of Parliament for "Then I'll tell you. He's with old Bounderby. Coketown one of the respected members for ounce They are having a regular confab together, up at weights and measures, one of the representatives of the Bank. Why at the Bank, do you think? Well, the multiplication table, one of the deaf honorable | I'll tell you again. To keep Mrs. Sparsit's cars as gentlemen, dumb honorable gentlemen, blind honor-far off as possible, I expect.” able gentlemen, lame honorable gentlemen, dead honorable gentlemen, to every other consideration. Else wherefore live we in a Christian land, eighteen hundred and odd years after our Master?

All this while, Louisa had been passing on, so quiet and reserved, and so much given to watching the bright ashes at twilight as they fell into the grate and became extinct, that from the period when her father had said she was almost a young woman --which seemed but yesterday-she had scarcely attracted his notice again, when he found her quite

a young woman.

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Quite a young woman," said Mr. Gradgrind, musing. "Dear me !"

Soon after this discovery, he became more thoughtful than usual for several days, and seemed much engrossed by one subject. On a certain night, when he was going out, and Louisa came to bid him good bye before his departure-as he was not to be home until late and she would not see him again until the morning-he held her in his arms, looking at her in his kindest manner, and sald:

"My dear Louisa, you are a woman!" She answered with the old, quick, searching look of the night when she was found at the Circus; then cast down her eyes. "Yes, father." "My dear," said Mr. Gradgrind, "I must speak with you alone and seriously. Come to me in my room after breakfast to morrow, will you?"

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'Yes, father."

With her hand upon her brother's shoulder, Louisa still stood looking at the fire. Her brother glanced at her face with greater interest than usual, and, encircling her waist with his arm, drew her coaxingly to him.

"You are very fond of me, an't you, Loo?" “Indeed I am, Tom, though you do let such long intervals go by without coming to see me." “Well, sister of mine," said Tom, "when you say that, you are near my thoughts. We might be so much oftener together-mightn't we. Always together, almost-mightn't we? It would do me a great deal of good if you were to make up your mind to I know what, Loo. It would be a splendid thing for me. It would be uncommonly jolly!"

Her thoughtfulness baffled his cunning scrutiny. He could make nothing of her face. He pressed her in his arm, and kissed her cheek. She returned the kiss, but still looked at the fire.

"I say, Loo! I thought I'd come, and just hint to you what was going on: though I supposed you'd most likely guess, even if you didn't know. I can't stay, because I'm engaged to some fellows to-night. You won't forget how fond you are of

me?"

"No, dear Tom, I won't forget." "That's a capital girl," said Tom. Loo."

du Foubourg St. Honoré; every stand was deserted, and the few vehicles that he chanced to encounter upon the way were already occupied. At last, as if to crown his misery, some premonitory flakes of snow began to fall.

"I can go no further!" exclaimed M. Armand, as staggering from fatigue, and half dead with cold, he leaned against a doorway.

But stay! On casting a last despairing look in advance, he thought that he perceived a file of carriages before the door of a large mansion down one of the streets opening upon the Madelaine.

But his troubles were not to be so speedily ended. Among the twenty-five or thirty equipages which he found stationed together, there was not a single hackney vehicle. All were private, and all were, of course, inaccessible. Any other man would have been daunted by this new disappointment; to M. Armand it suggested a bold and felicitous stroke of policy. At the head of the line there sat a coachman upon the box of a neat little Clarence The man was almost hidden in the folds of an immense railway wrapper, and seemed to be fast asleep. The rest of the livery servants were assembled round a blazing fire in the vestibule of the hotel.

M. Armand approached stealthily towards the carriage, opened the door softly, glanced once more around, to see that no one observed him, and glided

in.

It was a delightfully comfortable little vehiclecushioned, soft, yielding, and perfumed withal by that soft scent of flowers and otto of roses, which seems to linger in the wake of ladies and their

"Good bye, bouquets.

He had only intended to rest for a few moments She gave him an affectionate good night, and till a fiacre should pass by or the snow cease from went out with him to the door, whence the fires of falling. Soon, however, overcome by weariness and

"Your hands are rather cold, Louisa. Are you Coketown could be seen, making the distance lurid. the luxury of his asylum, he fell into a profound

not well?"

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She stood there, looking steadfastly towards them, and dreamless sleep. The ball shortly after this and listening to his departing steps. They retreat-broke up. The servants returned to their seatsed quickly, as glad to get away from Stone Lodge; the file of carriages was gradually put in motionand she stood there yet, when he was gone and all the visitors were departing was quiet. It seemed as if, first in her own fire within the house, and then in the fiery haze with"That's well," said Mr. Gradgrind So, he kiss-out, she tried to discover what kind of woof Old ed her and went away; and Louisa returned to the Time, that greatest and longest established Spinner

She looked at him again, and smiled in her peculiar manner. "I am as cheerful, father, as I usually am, or usually have been."

Still M. Armand slept on.

A lady appeared at the door of the hotel, surrounded by a crowd of attentive escorts. She wore a rich velvet cloak trimmed with sables, and yet shuddered at the

cold, damp night-air; appearing, moreover, somewhat wearied of the pressing attentions of her numerous admirers. The carriage drew up; the footman opened the door, let down the steps, and stood aside for his mistress to pass in.

Still M. Armand slept on.

which you wished to prevent my attending; how and M. Armand added to it a sigh of passionate
could I fail to be indulgent to a fault so speedily satisfaction.
atoned? I fear, Rodolph, that I should not have
been the first to seek a reconciliation-I was too
deeply wounded. But I was wrong, and I am ready
to confess how much your course exceeds mine in

It so happened that where he sat was in the deep-generosity." est shadow, and no one observed the intruder.

"What do you think of it? But you say nothing. It is true, you seldom speak much; but I only ask you for a single word-will you always love me?"

She leaned forward for the reply. This time M. Armand felt that it must proceed from his lips, and The young man, who was thus usurping a confi- was proceeding to give it, but without speaking, The lady ran lightly forward, and sprang in-an dence intended for another, began to feel that he when the young lady suddenly drew back and reexclamation escaped her lips. must at all hazards put an end to the lady's error.proached him just as his head came very close to "What is the matter, Madam?" cried one of the But his courage deserted him, when the smallest and hers. gentlemen, advancing immediately to the door. softest of hands was laid upon his own, and in a caressing voice she continued :—

The lady disengaged the mantle from her shoulders, and threw it over the sleeper in such a manner that he was completely hidden beneath the satin folds.

"Nothing, thank you," she replied; "I only stepped upon this cloak, and feared for the moment that I should fall. Good night!" She extended her fair hand, closed the door hastily, and the carriage rolled away.

But M. Armand was asleep no longer. He had half awoke when the door was opened, and had seen, as if in a dream, the lighted hall, the lady, and the gentlemen who accompanied her. The danger of his position suddenly roused him. Were they all coming in? Then the cloak fell upon his head-he blessed the protecting satin-the door closed, and he found himself alone with the lady. What was he to do? He dreaded to reveal his presence, for at the first word he uttered she might scream-faint-go into hysterics! Poor M. Armand! he had never been so embarrassed in his life.

"I was wrong to doubt you; but I have been cruelly deceived. Ah, if you but knew all that your enemies have said to me! They have represented you in the darkest colors restless, obstinate, jealous, violent-in short, I forget half. But now I know that it is all untrue, for you have come to seek me."

--

After a momentary silence, "Well, yes," she said softly; "I permit you; and let our embrace be the seal of reconciliation."

And the ceremony was performed to M. Armand's intense gratification.

"Ah, goodness!" exclaimed the lady, "we have already reached the Faubourg St. Germain! How will you escape from the carriage without being seen by my servants?"

M. Armand made a gesture of despair.
"What is to be done? I would not have them

And the soft hand gently pressed that of the false Rodolph. The young man was troubled, curious, and pleased. know this for the world! Ah! an idea has occurred to me. Do you know what o'clock it is?" She must be pretty; she had a charming voice, and M. Armand took out his watch and touched the seemed good, affectionate, and tender! So M. Arspring of the repeating movement. mand still kept silent.

The young lady, who fortunately seemed to be
fond of talking, and had a great many things to
say, paused for a moment, and then resumed.
"I abjure my error," she said, "and you have
made me quite happy. Do you pardon me as I par-

doned

you?"

M. Armand pressed her hand by way of reply. Anything was better than to trust his voice with the answer.

While he was thus debating and trembling, the carriage went on. All at once the lady drew the mantle aside, and said"You know I was obliged to go to the ball to It will "How imprudent of you to hide yourself in my please my rich uncle, whose heiress I am. carriage!" never do to vex one's rich uncles,-will it Rodolph ?"

When he felt the cloak withdrawn, the young man wished that he could sink through the bottom of the vehicle; but when he heard these words, he was perfectly bewildered.

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'Had you no care of my reputation?—no fear of compromising me? Happily I succeeded in throwing my cloak over you, otherwise-But no, I will not be angry with you, Rodolph; you have acted nobly, and I thank you!"

M. Armand had begun to think that he was mis

Again a pressure of the hand, a little closer, more
tender,-in fact, quite a crescendo pressure.
"Well, well, it is all over, then! And will you
promise me never, never to be jealous again? And

to be jealous of such a creature as that Monsieur
Chapuis !"

Monsieur Chapuis happened to be one of M. Ar-
mand's most intimate friends. He could not help
smiling. We all, according to La Rochefoucault,
take a degree of pleasure in the misfortune of our

friends.

taken for another, and these last words confirmed it.
Fortunatety for him, the withdrawal of the cloak did "Such an absurd man! The most absurd man
not violate his incognito. The collar of his paletot anywhere. He knows nothing-he can say nothing
was up; he wore his hat, and a large silken hand--every one laughs at him; but he has not even the
kerchief covered his mouth. Besides, the night was
sense to see that."
very dark; the carriage-lamps shed no light within ;
and he was shrinking back into the farthest corner.
Thus protected, he could at least continue to pass
for Rodolph till he was obliged to speak, and then
his voice must betray him.

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Chapuis!" thought M. Armand; "I wonder if she will speak of me next!" But M. Armand was particularly careful not to think aloud.

"But let us not talk of anything so tiresome. Let us talk about you. I do not think, after all, "Well! have you nothing to say to me?" said the that you would make such a bad husband—and— young lady, tenderly.

M. Armand thought the fatal moment was come.
"Ah, I understand," continued his companion, in

and, at all events, I think I may as well run the
risk, and take you !"

"Excellent! it is only half-past two, and the Countess de Blois will keep up her soirée till at least three. My sister is there; I will ask to speak with her, and then you can escape. Here is the Rue de Bac, and the door of the hotel is yet surrounded with equipages."

The lady stopped the carriage, the footman descended and approached the door.

"Ask if my sister is still at this ball." The servant entered the hall, and the lady turned towards her supposed lover:

"Now fly! adieu till to-morrow!'

M. Armand sprang swiftly from the vehic.e without having been observed by the driver, who was occupied with the care of his horses, and disappeared amid the carriages.

The next day she waited long and anxiously for

the arrival of M. Rodolph. Hours passed on, and

he never made his appearance. A letter came. It ran thus:

"Madame la Comtesse,-I need scarcely inform you that our engagement must henceforth be ended. Doubtless it was to accomplish this purpose that you persisted in going last evening to that ball, despite my threats and my entreaties. It is no longer possible that we should remain friends-still less lovers. Perhaps we neither of us have much to regret in the relinquishing of an union for which our dispositions are evidently unsuited, and which could ouly have proved a source of unhappiness and regret.

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An immense squeeze from M. Armand expressed gushed from her eyes.
the proper degree of rapture.

a tone of gentle reproach; "you are ashamed of
your conduct of the cruel scene you inflicted yes- "Come to-morrow, then, Rodolph, and we will
terday upon me! Well, I pardon you. You would talk over the necessary arrangements for the mar-
not let the night pass over without a reconciliation.riage."

You have come to seek me as I left the very ball Here a pressure of the hand was not sufficient,

"Is he mad?" she exclaimed; "after our conversation last night in the carriage, to treat me thus !" She forgot that in that conversation she had been the only speaker.

She could not refrain from weeping. He had

[graphic]

NO. XII.-VOL. IU

ADMIRAL SIR CHARLES NAPIER,

COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE BRITISH FLEET IN THE BALTIC.

Engraved expressly for the New York Journal.

been so kind, so amiable, so affectionate last night; morning-and under most peculier circumstances. and now

Madame la Comtesse bent over a flower-stand and hid her tears among the geraniums. She took the card without looking at it.

Have I your permission to proceed, and your pardon

At this moment a servant entered the room with for an indiscretion which was as tempting and dea visiting card upon a salver. lightful as I confess it was imprudent and rash." The lady bowed her head; but she had turned very pale, and her heart began to throb like a caged bird. He told her all. He told her of his shame, his terror, his anxiety to speak, and yet his dread of a betrayal. He excused himself gracefully-he urged his fear of alarming her he was frank, respectful,

"Shall I show the gentleman up, Madame ?" She nodded; there were footsteps already on the stairs-she dried her eyes, resumed her seat, and opened a book hastily.

known to her.

delicate.

After he had concluded there was for some moA gentleman entered the room hat in hand. He was good looking, well dressed, but perfectly un-ments a painful silence. The lady, who had been pale and red by turns, sat nervously plucking a rose to pieces leaf by leaf, with her eyes fixed upon the ground. The gentleman sat opposite to her, silent, and pausing for a reply. She felt his glance upon

"I hope," he said, with a quiet smile, "that Madame la Comtesse de Chalon will pardon the intrusion of one who, although a stranger, has yet spent some short time most agreeably in her society."her, and she knew not what to say. At last, in a "You speak in parables, Monsieur," and here the Countess glanced for the first time at the card, "Monsieur Armand."

"Yet, I beg to assure you, Madame, that we have met and not very long since."

Of course, it was impossible to doubt the word of so gentlemanly a person-she thought herself exceedingly forgetful not to remember him; particularly as he possessed such fine, and really such expressive eyes. She motioned him to a seat,

resumed her own chair, and smiling graciously,
"We have met, perhaps, at some ball?" she said;
"but I am ashamed to confess that I cannot in the
least recall your features."

"Certainly, Madame, a ball was the occasion of our meeting."

"What very beautiful eyes !" thought the young lady, casting down her own with some little embar

rassment. Madame la Comtesse was an admirer of beautiful eyes.

“And pray in whose salons had I the pleasure of dancing with Monsieur Armand?” she inquired.

"I regret to say that I have never yet had the honor of dancing with Madame la Comtesse," replied the gentleman, with an air of profound deference, and yet with an amused expression hovering round his lips, which greatly puzzled her.

"Was it at the réunion given by Madame St. Croix? or at the soirées of Madame du Nanterre? or at the balls given by Madame la Marquise de St. Hilaire ? or Madame la Comtesse Duplessis?"

M. Armand shook his head.

"It was at none of these, Madame, although I have the entrée at most of the houses you have mentioned. A ball given by Madame Delaunay first afforded me the delight of your acquaintance."

voice somewhat tremulous and low, she spoke.
"And pray, Monsieur Armand, how did you dis-
cover my name and address ?"

"I found what I had before sought in vain,
Madame,—a fiacre. I told the driver to follow your
carriage. I watched you enter your own door. I
sent my servant this morning to ascertain your name
at an adjoining boutique; and now I am here to
entreat your pardon and the permission to continue
an acquaintance so peculiarly, and, for me, auspi-

ciously begun."

Who could refuse a request so charmingly solicited? Not Madame la Comtesse, decidedly, who was such an admirer of fine eyes.

manner.

*

*

*

SIR CHARLES NAPIER.

ADMIRAL SIR CHARLES NAPIER, the

'rough diamond," as he has been dubbed, is the eldest son of the Honorable Charles Napier, R.N., of Merchistoun Hall, in the county of Stirling. He was born 6th of March, 1786. He entered the navy early in life, for at the age of twenty-two he is found Captain of the Recruit, on the West India Station. From this period of his life down to a comparatively late date, no account of his heroic services can be so interesting as that given by himself to the burgesses of Portsmouth, when he offered himself as a candidate at the election of 1833 :—

"In the course of my canvass," said he, "I have been asked who I am? I'll tell you. I am Captain Charles Napier, who, twenty-five years ago, commanded the Recruit brig, in the West Indies, and who had the honor of being twenty-four hours under the guns of three French line-of-battle ships, flying from a British squadron, the nearest of which, with the exception of the Hawk brig, was from five to six miles astern the greatest part of the time. I kept flying double-shotted broadsides into them. One of these ships, the Haulpoult, only was captured by the Pompey and Castor, the other two escaped by superior sailing. Sir Alexander Cochrane, my Commanderin-Chief, promoted me on the spot into her.

At the siege of Martinique, the Æolus, Cleopatra, and Recruit were ordered to beat up, in the night, between Pigeon Island and the main, and anchor close to Fort Edward. The enemy fearing an attack, As for M. Rodolph, he repented of his letter, and burnt their shipping. At daylight, it appeared to me sought a reconciliation with the beautiful widow. that Fort Edward was abandoned: this, however, He found a gentleman in her drawing-room occupied was doubted. I offered to ascertain the fact, and in her service in a most interesting and confidential with five men I landed in open day, scaled the walls, In fact, he was holding a skein of silk and planted the union-jack on the ramparts. Fortuupon his extended hands, and the lady's dainty fin-nately, I was undiscovered from Fort Bourbon, which stood about a hundred yards off, and commanded it. gers were rapidly twining it around an ivory reel. On this being reported to Sir Alexander Cochrane, a regiment was landed in the night. Fort Edward was taken possession of, and the mortars turned against the enemy. I am in possession of letters from Sir A., saying that 'my conduct was the means of saving many losses, and shortening the siege of Martinique.'

"Ah, M. de Mayall," said Madame la Comtesse, with an amiable smile, as she rose and indicated a chair for the visitor. "I am delighted to receive you. Auguste," turning towards the gentleman, who yet held the silken threads, "this is one of my old friends. Permit me to introduce my friend, M. de Mayall—M. Armand.”

"I had once the misfortune of receiving a precious "I hope," said M. Armand, with the most winning politeness, "that M. de Mayall will honor our wed-licking from a French corvette; the first shot she ding with his presence. I am charmed to have the fired broke my thigh, and a plumper carried away my honor of making his acquaintance." mainmast. The enemy escaped, but the British flag was not tarnished. On my return to England, in command of the Jason, I was turned out of her by a Tory Admiralty, because I had no interest; but as I could not lead an idle life, I served a campaign with

THE EASY OLD CHAIR.
THE Easy Old Chair where my mother oft rested,
While the sight of it oft hath drawn smiles from the thought-

Through all my long wanderings safe have I kept,

less,

"Ah! I comprehend. It must have been a year ago, then Monsieur; for Madame Delaunay has received but once this season. Last night was the first of her soirées, and certainly it was not last night How oft, labor o'er, have I taken my station that I had the honor of being introduced to you."

"Pardon, Madame: but we met last night for the first time."

The lady looked completely amazed.

"I am indeed overwhelmed with confusion not to remember" she began. But M. Armand interrupted her.

"Before I proceed farther Madame, I must entreat your forgiveness for all that I am about to say. did indeed meet last night-I should rather

say

We
this

The motherless one by its elbow has wept.

Beside that old chair, while a blessing was given
From lips that now long with the dust have been mingled,
But the spirit which mov'd them is active in Heav'n.
That Chair, perhaps, unworthy the gaze of a stranger,
Is highly esteem'd by a motherless child,
Who now, even now, sees the parent within it,]

As when in her happiest moments she smil'd.
Come hither, ye children, from six years to sixty-
Como ye with long tresses, and ye with gray hair;
And each, who, like me, know the loss of a mother,
Shall value as I do the Easy Old Chair.

the army in Portugal, as a volunteer, when I was again wounded. At the battle of Busaco, I had the honor of carrying off the field my gallant friend and relative, Colonel Napier, who was shot through the face.

"On my return to England, I was appointed to the Thames, in the Mediterranean; and if I could bring the inhabitants of the Neapolitan coast into this room, they would tell you, that from Naples to the Faro Point, there was not a spot where I did not leave my mark, and brought off with me upwards of a hundred sail of gun-boats and merchant vessels. I had the honor of running the Thames and Furieuse into the small mole of Ponza, which was strongly de

Portuguese squadrons, when the capture of the
Miguelite flcet took place. Nay, under the Foreign
Enlistment Act, the name of the hero was erased
from the English Naval List!

fended; and before they could recover from their sur-
prise, I captured the island without the loss of a man.
"I was then removed to the Euryalus, and had the
good fortune to fall in with two French frigates and
a schooner. I chased them in the night close into The death of Don Pedro severed the last link that
Calvi, in the Island of Corsica, passing close under bound Napier to the service of Portugal; and in
the stern of one, plumpering her as I passed; and the November following he returned to England,
though we were going eight knots, I tried to run the minister of the Portuguese marine not even offer-
aboard of her consort, who was a little outside, stand-ing him a ship to carry him home, or complimenting
ing athwart my hawse. The night was dark, the
land close, and she succeeded in crossing me; but I
drove her ashore on the rocks, where she was totally
wrecked, and her consort was obliged to anchor close
to her. The Euryalus wound round and got off,
almost brushing the shore as she passed. These
ships were afterwards ascertained to be armée en
flute, mounting twenty-two guns each, and the
schooner fourteen.

"From the Mediterranean I was ordered to America; and if my gallant friend, Sir James Gordon, was here, he would have told you how I did my duty on that long and arduous service up the Potomac; he would have told you, that in a tremendous squall, the Euryalus lost her bowspirit and all her topmasts, and that in twelve hours she was again ready for work. We brought away a fleet from Alexandria, were attacked going down the river by batteries, built close to what had been the residence of the great Washington, and I was again wounded in that action in the neck. On the peace taking place, I went on half-pay, where I remained till I was appointed to the Galatea, which ship I commanded for three years on this station; and I trust I have done my duty faithfully, during that period, to my king and country."

Charlie is one who fights not for bread, but because he can no more help it than Scott could writing novels and romances. He could not get into the House of Commons in 1833, but amused himself by watching the storm and battle of party as a spectator from the gallery, and by writing for the "United Service Journal," where will be found several able letters from his pen on the subject of naval expenditure and economy. But this could not last long. The blast of war had sounded, and liberty herself seemed to call upon him for her aid in her dying struggles in the Peninsula, bringing us to the war of succession in Portugal, where, but for the gallant services of Napier, the cause of Don Pedro and Queen Maria in all probability would have been lost. And yet he was not only badly received by the Emperor at the first, but often scurvily treated afterwards, in spite of the most characteristic as well as gallant exploits.

him with a salute on leaving the Tagus. The
decided step taken by Charlie on this occasion was
worthy a British tar; and so marked was the injus-
tice of the treatment he received, that the young
Queen of Portugal requested ultimately that he
would retain his honors, ordering also his demands
to be granted. It ought to be known that one of
these demands was to secure pensions for the widows
and orphans of those men who had fallen when
under his command.

In 1839, Napier was appointed to the Powerful,
and when she came to Portsmouth for her crew, the
following characteristic and somewhat prophetic
bill was issued :—

'Wanted, active seamen for the Powerful, Captain Napier. The Powerful is a fine ship, and, in the event of a war, will be able to take her own part."

ful of the Western nations in the flames of a general war. In fact, the matter was arranged in six hours, not by means of treaties and protocols, but of the decision of a British sailor, and under the guns of a man-of-war.

The Commodore, it will be remembered, having arrived off Alexandria, took the Powerful in, with her guns double-shotted, with a reinforcement of several ships, and caused it to be signified to Mchemet Ali that unless his highness would forthwith enter into a solemn treaty for the final settlement of the Turco-Egyptian question, on certain terms proposed to him by the home government, Alexandria should meet the same fate as St. Jean d'Acre. Twenty-four hours time was given for the Pasha's ultimatum; before the expiration of which he signified his assent, so that the treaty was soon signed and executed.

It was not long before the Commodore found himself made a Knight Commander of the Bath, and at length elevated to the rank of Vice-Admiral.

No sketch of this brave man's career can be other than greatly defective that does not bear testimony to his fearless expression of opinion, politically as well as professionally. In regard to his latter feature of conduct, not few are the instances of his running foul of a minister of the crown, and of his raking the decks of a premier with a broadside. "The Navy its Past and Present State," has been the subject of many of his letters, addressed to a great number of persons in power from time to time, and also to the editor of the Times.

How well she took her own part, and how her
commander played his, did not very long remain in
doubt. On the announcement of her destination to
join the Mediterranean fleet, it was shrewdly guessed
that more was meant than met the eye; and that
it was not for a mere summer cruise along the coast
of Troy, or among the isles of Greece, that such a
man as Napier was summoned from his retirement.
That he thought so himself may be concluded, not
only from his placard at Portsmouth, but also from
the fact of his sounding the Dardanelles, and taking as may be at once decisive.
careful notes of every gun in those famed batteries,
as well as instructing his nephew, Major Napier, to
make drawings for him of all the ports along the
coast of Therapis, &c.

With respect to Sir Charles Napier having a command in the naval armament which menaces Russia

Of Napier's promotion to the rank of Commodore in 1840-of the dark web of French intrigue encompassing the Eastern question, which, with the ministry of M. Thiers, was scattered like a cloud at sea by the first sound of the cannon at Beyrout, in October of 1840,-of the landing in Djournie Bay of the British, Turkish, and Austrian forces,—of the camp at Djournie, where Napier, the commodore, is described as working in his shirt sleeves, up at six in the morning, encouraging, urging, and compelling all to labor at the fortifications, himself setting the example,-of the storming of Sidon, of Jaffa, of Tsour, and of Caiffa, there is not space in these columns to describe-neither does this seem necessary, as these events are too recent to be new to the majority of the rising generation. How remarkable was the bombardment of Acre—that far-famed fortress of the Levant-the most splendid of late achievements!

It will not surprise the reader when he learns that Napier was severely wounded in the service at Portugal-a service which raised him to the summit of naval renown; neither that his achievements failed to gain for him from the rulers of that country, whose sway he asserted and sustained, adequate acknowledgments. But, will it be believed, that at the very moment when he was so bravely and successfully defending a kingdom and cause with which England But Napier had not yet crowned his glory in a identified herself, he was made the subject of malig- summary war at this period: he was to settle the nant attack by the Tory friends of Don Miguel in Eastern question in a few days—a question which this country? He himself, besides, says, "It is sin- had been perplexing the diplomatists of Europe for gular that I received an order to appear at the Ad-years, and which had not only cost tens of thousands miralty the day the action was fought," viz., the of lives, but shook the Ottoman empire to its censplendid victory off Cape St. Vincent between the tre, and also threatened to involve the most power

there exist not two opinions. Give him head in the Baltic, and who can doubt of his speedily showing how much depends upon striking such a hard blow

THE DYING GIRL.

THEY say I'm failing fast, mother,

Indeed I feel it is so;

For all seems overcast, mother,

And my cheeks have ceased to glow,
Just place your hand upon my heart,

How wild its pulses beat!
They'll soon be still-I know they will,
And then my sleep-how sweet!

O raise me on your arm, mother,
That I may catch the breeze;
And feel its breath of balm, mother,
Fresh from the leafy trees.

The flowers are full of life and joy

How rich the lilacs bloom!
And see my rose-how sweet it blows,-
You'll bear it to my tomb?

'Tis merry May for some, mother,
Their joyous laugh I hear;
With happy songs they come, mother,
Whose songs to me-how dear!
O let them sing them by my bed,
I'm sure 'twill soothe my pain;
"Twill hover round me when I'm dead,
That wild yet pleasant strain.
The light becomes more dim, mother,
I cannot see your face-

My brain begins to swim, mother,
My limbs grow cold apace.

An angel's bending from the skies,
He says that I must come ;

O, mother! dry your tearful eyes,
I'm going to my home!

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