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old times were reverted to; and Sir Harry fancied that there wa◄ more design than accident in the visit with which he had been honoured. This feeling was confirmed by Lord Charles drawing his chair, in a confidential manner, towards his friend, and observing that "he was a lucky and a happy fellow to be blessed with so lovely a family, and so amiable and domestic a companion.” Sir Harry smiled, and only replied that he was happy; and he hoped his friend would not quietly sink into the grave without selecting some partner, whose smiles would gild the evening of his days, &c. &c. A fine sentimental speech it was, but ill-timed; for the gallant bachelor suffered it to proceed little farther than "evening," when he exclaimed,-" Faith, Sir Harry, you must have strange ideas. Evening! I consider myself in the prime and vigour of existence; and I have serious ideas of changing my condition-it is pleasant to settle before one falls into the sere and withered leaf. And although, as I said before, I feel myself in the very vigour of life, yet it is time to determine. You are con

siderably my senior

"Only a few months, my dear friend;-my birthday in May, yours in the January of the next year."

"Indeed! Well, to tell you the truth, (it is however a profound secret, and I rely on your friendship,) I am really a married man! -There I knew I should surprise you. I shall surprise every body."

"Most sincerely do I wish you joy, my dear lord, and doubt not your choice is fixed upon one who will secure your happiness. I am sure Lady Frances will be delighted at an introduction.— Your pardon one moment, while I relate a most extraordinary coincidence. Do you remember my noting down the six perfections which you required the lady of your choice to possess ?—perhaps you recollect it was some five-and-But no matter-well, the tablets upon which I wrote, this morning-only this very morning, I was looking over a box of papers, and, behold! there they were, -and do you know, (how very odd, was it not?) I put them in my waistcoat pocket," continued the worthy baronet, at the same moment drawing them forth, "intending to show them to my eldest son, for there's a great deal-I assure you I speak in perfect sincerity-a great dealMy dear lord, what is the matter? you look ill!" To confess the truth, Lord Charles appeared marvellously annoyed-he fidgetted on his chair-the colour heightened on his cheek, and he finally thrust the poker into the fire with terrific violence. "Never mind the tablets, my good friend," said he at last; "men change their tastes and opinions, as they advance in life-I was a mere boy then, you know, full of romance,"

"Your pardon, my lord, less of romance than most young men," replied the persevering and tactless baronet, who was, moreover, gifted with a provokingly good memory, "decidedly less of romance than most young men-and not such a boy either. Here are the precious mementos. First on the list stands ' NOBLE BIRTH;' right, right, my dear lord, nothing like it—that (entre nous) is Lady Frances's weak point, I confess; she really carries it too far, for she will have it—that not even a royal alliance could purify a citizen." Lord Charles Villiers looked particularly dignified as he interrupted his zealous friend. "It is rather unfortunate," he observed gravely, "that I should have chosen you as my confidant on this occasion; the fact is, that, knowing how devilish proud all my connexions are, and my Mary-what a sweet name Mary is!-you remember Byron's beautiful lines,

'I have a passion for the name of Mary!'

-my Mary's father was only a merchant-a-citizen-a very worthy-a most excellent man-not exactly one of us-but a highly respectable person, I assure you; his name is Scroggins."

"Powers of fashion!" mentally ejaculated the baronet, "will it can it be believed-the courted, the exquisite Lord Charles Villiers- the glass of fashion, and the mould of form '-the star, the idol of ton and taste-married-positively married to Molly Scroggins of Bunhillrow!"

"I am anxious, I do confess, that Lady Frances should receive Lady Charles Villiers here," persevered his lordship, after a very long pause; " and I can answer for it, that the native and untutored manners of my unsophisticated bride would gain hourly upon her affections."

"Of course-of course, we shall be most happy to receive her ladyship," stammered forth the baronet; "and doubtless her BEAUTY"-glancing at the tablets.

you

"Pardon me, Sir Harry," in'errupted the nobleman; must not expect what in our world is denominated Beauty;-she is all animation

'Happy nature, wild and simple '

"What a subject for

rosy and laughing, but not a beauty, believe me." Again the astounded baronet pondered. Almack's!-the rosy, (doubtless signifying red-faced,) laughing (meaning romping) daughter of some city butterman, thrust into the peerage by the folly of a man who might have plucked the fairest, noblest flower in the land!"

"At all events," he said, when his powers of articulation re

turned, "your lady is endowed with both PRUDENCE and WIT, and nothing so likely to create a sensation in the beau monde as such a combination."

"Oh, yes-prudence I daresay she will have, much cannot be expected from a girl of seventeen; and as to wit, between you and me, it is a deuced dangerous and troublesome weapon, when wielded by a woman."

"A flirt and a fool, I suspect," again fancied Sir Harry, addition to her other qualifications."

6 in

"GENTLENESS and FIDELITY," he ejaculated, fixing his eyes on the unfortunate tablets, while Lord Charles, evidently determined no longer to endure the baronet's untimely reference to the detestable memorials, snatched them (it is perfectly astonishing what rude acts polite persons will sometimes perform) from the hand of his friend, and flung them into the fire.

"Heavens! and earth, sir! what do you mean by such conduct?" said Sir Harry, at the same time snatching them from the flames. "These ivory slates are dear to me as existence. I must say, that I consider such conduct very ungenerous, ungentlemanly," &c. &c. One angry word produced another; and much was said which it would ill befit me to repeat. The next morning, even before the dawn of day, Lord Charles Villiers had quitted Beauclerc Hall, without bidding a single farewell either to its lady or its master..

"There!" exclaimed the baronet, placing the fashionable "Post" in Lady Frances's hand at the breakfast-table one morning, about three months after the above scene had taken place; "I knew how it would be; a pretty fool that noble friend of mine, Lord Charles Villiers, has made of himself. I never knew one of these absurdly particular men who did not take the crooked stick at last. By Jove, sir," (to his son,) "you shall marry before you are five-and-twenty, or you shall be disinherited! The youthful mind is ever pliable; and the early wed grow into each other's habits, feelings, and affections. An old bachelor is sure either to make a fool of himself, or be made a fool of. You see his lordship's wife has publicly shown that she certainly did not possess the last of his requisites-FIDELITY-by eloping with her footman. I will journey up to town on purpose to invite Lord Charles here, and make up matters; he will be glad to escape from the desagremens of exposure just now, as he is doubtless made a Lion of, for the benefit-as Sir Peter Teazle has it→ of all Bachelors."

Qid

THE SEER.

THE future once was fair to me-
A golden dream, by fancy brought,
To set the harass'd spirit free,

When care had clouded every thought.

'Twas sweet, ev'n though delusive all, To mould at will each coming scene, And fill the shadowy interval,

Not with what must, but might have been.

Now my prophetic eye surveys

The dread realities to come-
Oft as I speak, the woe-fraught days
Glare on me, and my lips are dumb.

I've sat unknown, 'mid festal throng,
And seen the gayest reveller there,
While chaunting forth some merry song,
The grave's oblivious mantle wear.

I've seen the youthful warrior leave

His native home, when hand grasp'd handAnd those who joy'd were soon to grieveLo! in his breast the spectral brand!

I've seen the bark put out to sea,

And heard, commingling with the cheer Which made farewell a sound of glee, Faint shriekings from a watery bier.

Oh horror! art thou passing too--
Thou who alone of all I know
Shunn'st not my presence ?-yes, the hue
Of death is on thy cheek like snow!

Peace!-I forget-my brother seer
Has link'd my parting hour with thine-
A throb of pain-a start of fear-
Then, dearest, thou art ever mine.

B.

THE DILEMMA.

A TALE, BY H. G. BELL.

By St Agatha! I believe there is something in the shape of a tear in those dark eyes of mine, about which the women rave so unmercifully," said the young Fitzclarence, as, after an absence of two years, he came once more in sight of his native village of Malhamdale. He stood upon the neighbouring heights, and watched the curling smoke coming up from the cottage chimneys in the clear blue sky of evening, and saw the last beams of the setting sun, playing upon the western walls of his father's old baronial mansion, and, a little farther off, he could distinguish the trees and pleasure-grounds of Sir Meredith Appleby's less ancient seat. Then he thought of Julia Appleby, the baronet's only child, his youthful playmate, his first friend, and his first love; and as he thought of her, he sighed. I wonder why he sighed! When they parted two years before, sanctioned and encouraged by their respective parents, (for there was nothing the old people wished more than a union between the families,) they had sworn eternal fidelity, and plighted their hearts irrevocably to each other. Fitzclarence thought of all this, and again he sighed. Different people are differently affected by the same things. After so long an absence, many a man would, in the exuberance of his feelings, have thrown himself down upon the first bed of wild-flowers he came to, and spouted long speeches to himself out of all known plays. Our hero preferred indulging in the following little soliloquy:-"My father will be amazingly glad to see me," said he to himself; "and so will my mother, and so will my old friend the antediluvian butler Morgan ap-Morgan, and so will the pointer-bitch Juno, and so will my pony Troilus ;— a pretty figure, by-the-bye, I should cut now upon Troilus, in this gay military garb of mine, with my sword rattling between his legs, and my white plumes streaming in the air like a rainbow over him! And Sir Meredith Appleby, too, with his great gouty leg, will hobble through the room in ecstasy as soon as I present myself before him ;-and Julia-poor Julia, will blush, and smile, and come flying into my arms like a shuttlecock. Heigho!—I am a very miserable young officer. The silly girl loves me; her imagination is all crammed with hearts and darts; she will bore me to death with her sighs, and her tender glances, and her allusions to time past, and her hopes of time to come, and all the artillery of a lovesick child's brain. What, in the name of the Pleiades, am I to do? I believe I had a sort of penchant for her once, when I was a mere boy in my nurse's leading-strings; I believe I did give her some

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