but inwardly thanking God heartily for my deliverance from jeopardy.

"Yes," continued Frank, "so it is; but come, we must take our ground, and give the vagabond an hour's law."

"With all my heart," said I; and in five minutes I was dressed and on my way to the spot, with a lighted cheroot in my mouth, and truth to say, entre nous, a lighter heart under my waistcoat than I think I should else have carried to the field.

On the ground we found Captain M., the fellow's second, who informed us he understood his principal had taken flight, and vowed summary vengeance on him when and wherever he should meet him, for the insult he had offered him by his pusillanimous conduct. To be brief, we waited one hour, and my antagonist did not appear. Frank thus addressed himself to his second ::--

"Captain M.," he said, " you will do my friend the justice to say he has behaved as becomes a brave and an honorable man?"

"Most certainly," said the Captain: and we quitted the ground, and I proceeded to post the recreant; after which the Captain, Frank, and I together took steaks and claret for breakfast. And thus ended "the first duel" of a halfbearded boy. EPHRAIM TWIGG.

New Monthly Mag.

NASH, KING OF BATH. (For the Parterre).

Or the many instances of humanity recorded of this celebrated individual, the Spectator takes notice of one, though his name is not mentioned. When he was to give in his account to the Master of the Temple, among other articles, he charged, "For making one man happy, 10." Being questioned about the meaning of this strange item, he frankly declared, that, happening to overhear a poor man declare to his wife, and a large family of children, that 107. would make him happy, he could not avoid trying the experiment. He added, if they did not choose to acquiesce in his charge, he was ready to refund the money. The Master, struck with such an uncommon instance of good nature, publicly thanked him for his benevolence, and desired the sum might be doubled, as a proof of his satisfaction.

The above circumstance probably took its rise from the following story-A gentleman told Mr. Nash one day that he had just come from seeing the most

pitiful sight his eyes ever beheld; a poor man and his wife, surrounded with seven helpless infants, almost all perishing for want of food, raiment, and lodging, and their apartment was as dreary as the street itself, from the weather beating in upon them from all quarters; that, upon inquiry, he found the parents were honest and sober, and wished to be industrious, if they had employment, and that he had calculated the expense of making the whole family comfortable and happy.

"How much money," exclaimed Nash, "would relieve and make them happy?" "About ten guineas," replied the friend, "would be sufficient for that purpose.'

Nash instantly went to his bureau, and gave him the cash, at the same time pressing him to make all possible haste, for fear of the sudden dissolution of the miserable family.

"I need not go far," said the friend, smiling and putting the money into his pocket: "you know you have owed me this money a long while, and that I have dunned you for it, for years, to no manner of purpose: excuse me, therefore, for having thus imposed on your feelings, not being able to move your justice, for there are no such objects as I have described, to my knowledge: the story is a fiction from beginning to end, you are a dupe, not of justice, but of your humanity." W. G.

POPPING THE QUESTION.

BY AN OLD BACHELOR.

"FAINT heart," says the adage, "never won fair ladye." I know not who it was that gave birth to this "wise saw"

But

whether it is to be found in Homer, as some say all things may, (it is a long time since we read Homer) or whether some gallant son of Mars introduced it to the world by way of forwarding the views of himself and comrades. this I know, that whoever the person may be, he has much to answer for: much to answer for to the ladies for subjecting them to the affectations and impertinences of our sex-much to answer for to us, for encouraging the belief that such a behaviour is pleasing to the fair.

Perhaps it may be urged that a misapprehension and misapplication of the adage have caused the grievance I complain of. It may be so: but it is not enough that a law is made with a view to encourage merit; it should be so framed as to defy a perversion to the purposes of evil. In the blessed days of

chivalry, no doubt, the bravest knights were-as they deserved to be the most successful pleaders in the bower of beauty. But let it be remembered that, in those days, the gallants were bold as lions in battle, but in a lady's boudoir, (if such an anachronism may be allowed,) meek as so many lambs. Now, I much fear, the high bearing of our gallants is chiefly displayed in the chambers of their mistresses, while craven hearts are found to tremble in the tent. Alas, for the days of chivalry! In a word-though I speak it with the most perfect good humour, and without a particle of jealousy-I consider the young men of the present day a saucy, empty, assuming, ill-bred set of fellows, and altogether unworthy the favours of the belles of the nineteenth century.

I am not a nineteenth-century man myself, and I thank the gods (particularly the god of love) for that consolation in the midst of all my sorrows. Forty years ago things were very different: the young folks of that age were men of another calibre, men who paid some regard to decency, and were not ashamed to wear the blush of modesty upon all proper occasions. I was a lover then; and I confess, (though at the risk of getting laughed at for my pains,) felt as much alarm at the idea of "popping the red-hot question," as facing a fifteenpounder. An offer of marriage at that time of day was matter of deliberation for weeks, months-nay, frequently for years: not as now, an affair of three interviews-a ball, a morning call, and an evening at the opera. No, no: Gretna Green was a terra incognita in those days; and except in plays and romances, no man ever dreamt of stealing a heiress burglariously, (for I can find no softer term for it,) or running away with a beauty, and asking her consent afterwards.

The manner of popping the question, certainly, must always vary considerably with the varying dispositions and habits of men. The young lawyer, for instance, would put it in a precise, parchment sort of way,-I, A. B., do hereby ask and solicit, &c.-—while the poet, no doubt would whip in a scrap of Ovid, and make it up into a sonnet, or moonlight impromptu. I remember the opinion of a young beau of Gray's Inn, (macaronies we used to call them in those days) who, on its being suggested that the best way of putting the query was by writing, replied, "No, that would never do; for then the lady would have it to shew against you."

But to my tale. About twenty years ago, (I was not then so bald as I am now,) I was spending the Midsummer with my old friend and school-fellow, Tom Merton. Tom had married early in life, and had a daughter, Mary Rose, who, to her "father's wit and mother's beauty," added her uncle Absalom's good humour, and her aunt Deborah's notability. In her you had the realization of all that the poets have sung about fairy forms, dulcet voices, and witching eyes. She was just such a being as you may imagine to yourself in the heroine of some beautiful romance— -Narcissa, in Roderick Random, for instance-or Sophia, in Tom Jones-or Fanny, in Joseph Andrews-not the modern, lackadaisical damsels of Colburn and Bentley. If she had met the eye of Marc Antony, Cleopatra might have exerted her blandishments in vain: if Paris had but seen Mary Rose Merton, Troy might have been standing to this day. Such was the presiding divinity of the house where I was visiting. My heart was susceptible, and I fell in love. No man, I thought, had ever loved as I did—a common fancy among lovers-and the intensity of my affection I believed would not fail to secure a return. One cannot explain the secret, but those who have felt the influence, will know how to judge of my feelings. I was as completely over head and ears as mortal could be: I loved with that entire devotion that makes filial piety and brotherly affection sneak to a corner of man's heart, and leave it to the undisputed sovereignty of feminine beauty.

The blindness incidental to my passion, and the young lady's uniform kindness, led me to believe that the possibility of her becoming my wife was by no means so remote as at first it had appeared to be; and, having spent several sleepless nights in examining the subject on all sides, I determined to make her an offer of my hand, and to bear the result, pro or con, with all due philosophy. For more than a week I was disappointed in an opportunity of speaking alone with my adored, notwithstanding I had frequently left the dinner-table prematurely with that view, and several times excused my self from excursions which had been planned for my especial amusement.

At length the favourable moment seemed to be at hand. A charity sermon was to be preached by the bishop, for the benefit of a Sunday school, and as Mr. Merton was churchwarden, and destined to hold one of the plates, it became im

perative on his family to be present on the occasion. I, of course, proffered my services, and it was arranged that we should set off early next morning, to secure good seats in the centre aisle. I could hardly close my eyes that night for thinking how I should" Pop the Question ;" and when I did get a short slumber, was waked on a sudden by some one starting from behind a hedge, just as I was disclosing the soft secret. Sometimes, when I had fancied myself sitting by the lovely Mary in a bower of jasmine and roses, and had just concluded a beautiful rhapsody about loves and doves, myrtles and turtles, I raised my blushing head, and found myself tete-a-tete with her papa. At another moment, she would slip a beautiful, pink, hot-pressed billetdoux into my hand, which, when I unfolded it, would turn out to be a challenge from some favoured lover, desiring the satisfaction of meeting me at half-past six in the morning, and so forth, and concluding, as usual, with an indirect allusion to a horsewhip. Morning dreams, they say, always come true. It's a gross falsehood-mine never come true. But I had a pleasant vision that morning, and recollecting the gossip's tale, I fondly believed it would be verified. Methought I had ventured to "pop the question to my Dulcinea, and was accepted. I jumped out of bed in a tremor. "Yes," I cried, "I will pop the question: ere this night-cap again envelope this unhappy head, the trial shall be made!" and I shaved, and brushed my hair over the bald place on my crown, and tied my cravat with unprecedented care; and made my appearance in the breakfastparlour just as the servant maid had begun to dust the chairs and tables.

Poor servant maid! I exclaimed to myself for I felt very Sterne-ish--was it ever thy lot to have the question popped in thy unsophisticated ear? Mayhap, even now, as thou dustest the mahogany chairs, and rubbest down the legs of the rosewood tables, pangs of unrequited affection agitate thy tender bosom, or doubts of a lover's faith are preying upon thy maiden heart! I can fancy thee, fair domestic, standing in that neat dress thou wearest now-a gown of dark blue with a little white sprig, apron of criss-cross, (housemaids were not above checked aprons in those days), and black cotton stockings-that identical duster, perhaps, waving in thy ruby hand-I can fancy thee, thus standing, sweet help, with thy lover at thy feet-he all hope and protestation, thou all fear and hesi

tation-his face glowing with affection, thine suffused with blushes-his eyes beaming with smiles, thine gushing with tears-love-tears, that fall, drop-dropslowly at first, like the first drops of a thunder storm, increasing in their flow, even as that storm increaseth, till finding it no longer possible to dissemble thy weeping, thou raisest the duster to thy cheeks, and smearest them with its pulverized impurities. But Love knows best how to bring about his desires: that little incident, simple-nay, silly as it may seem, has more quickly matured the project than hours of sentiment could have done; for the begrimmed countenance of the maiden sets both the lovers a laughing she is anxious to run away, to wash "the filthy witness" from her face he will not suffer her to depart without a promise, a word of hope-she falters forth the soft syllables of consent and the terrible task of "popping the question" is over.

Breakfast-time at length arrived. But I shall pass over the blunders I committed during its progress; how I salted Mary Rose's muffin instead of my own, poured the cream into the sugar basin, and took a bite at the teapot lid. "Pop the question" haunted me continually, and I feared to speak, even on the most ordinary topics, lest I should in some way betray myself. Pop-pop-pop! every thing seemed to go off with a pop; and when at length Mr. Merton hinted to Mary and her mother that it was time for them to pop on their bonnets, I thought he laid a particular stress on the horrible monosyllable, and almost expected him to accuse me of some sinister design upon his daughter. It passed off, however, and we set out for the church. Mary Rose leaned upon my arm, and complained how dull I was. I, of course, protested against it, and tried to rally: vivacity, indeed, was one of my characteristics, and I was just beginning to make myself extremely agreeable, when a little urchin, in the thick gloom of a dark entry, let off a pop gun close to my ear. The sound, simple as it may seem, made me start as if a ghost had stood before me, and when Mary observed that I was "very nervous this morning," I felt as if I could have throttled the lad; and inwardly cursed the inventor of popguns, and doomed him to the lowest pit of Acheron.

I strove against my fate, however, and made several observations. "Look," cried Mary Rose, as we gained the end of the street, "what a beautiful child!"

I turned my head to the window, when the first object that met my eyes was a square blue paper, edged with yellow, on which was written in too, too legible characters, "Pop." I believe I was surprised into an exclamation stronger than the occasion would seem to warrant, and the poor child came in for a share of my anathema. I didn't intend it, however, for I am very fond of children: but it served Mary Rose to scold me about till we came to the church door; and if possible, bewildered me more than ever. We had now arrived in the middle aisle, when my fair companion whispered me "My dear Mr. won't '" you take off your hat?" This was only a prelude to still greater blunders. I posted myself at the head of the seat, sang part of the hundredth psalm while the organist was playing the symphony, sat down when I should have stood up, knelt when I ought to have been standing, and just at the end of the creed found myself pointed due west, the gaze and wonder of the congregation.

The sermon at length commenced; and the quietness that ensued, broken only by the perambulations of the beadle and sub-schoolmaster, and the collision ever and anon of their official wands with the heads of refractory students, guilty of the enormous crime of gaping or of twirling their thumbs, gave me an opportunity of collecting my scattered thoughts. Just as the rest of the congregation were going to sleep, I began to awake from my mental lethargy; and by the time the worthy prelate had discussed three or four heads of his text, felt myself competent to make a speech in parliament. Just at this moment, too, a thought struck me, as beautiful as it was sudden-a plan by which I might make the desired tender of my person, and display an abundant share of wit into the bargain.

To this end I seized Mary Rose's prayer-book, and turning over the pages till I came to matrimony, marked the passage, "Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband?" with two emphatic dashes, and pointing significantly and confidently to myself handed it to her with a bow. She took it!-she read it!!-she smiled!!! Was it a smile of assent? O how my heart beat in my bosom at that instant-so loud, that I feared the people around us might hear its palpitations; and looked at them to see if they noticed me. She turned over a few leaves-she took my pencil, which

I had purposely enclosed in the book— and she marked a passage. O ye gods and demigods! what were my sensations at that moment! not Jove himself, when he went swan-hopping to the lovely Leda-nor Pluto, when he perpetrated the abduction of the beautiful Proserpine, could have experienced a greater turmoil of passions than I that moment. I felt the score--felt it, as if it had been made across my very heart: and I grasped the book—and I squeezed the hand that presented it; and, opening the page tremblingly, and holding the volume close to my eyes, (for the type was small, and my sight not quite so good as it used to be), I read-O Mary Rose! O Mary Rose! that I should live to relate it!-"A woman may not marry her grandfather."

Metropolitan Magazine.

MISCELLANIES.

MORAL FORTITUDE DEPENDENT ON HABIT. WHEN life is in danger either in a storm or a battle, it is certain that less fear is felt by the commander or the pilot, and even by the private soldier actively engaged, or the common sailor laboriously occupied, than by those who are exposed to the peril, but not employed in the means of guarding against it. The reason is, not that the one class believe the danger to be less. They are likely in many instances to perceive it more clearly. But having acquired a habit of instantly turning their thoughts to the means of counteracting the danger, their minds are thrown into a state which excludes the ascendancy of fear.-Mental fortitude depends entirely upon this habit. The timid horseman is haunted by the horrors of a fall. The bold and skilful thinks only about the best means of curbing or supporting his horse. Even when all means are equally unavailable, and his condition appears desperate to the by-stander, he still owes it to his fortunate habit that he does not suffer the agony of the coward. Many cases have been known where fortitude has reached such strength that the faculties, instead of being confounded by danger, are never raised to their highest activity by a less violent stimulant. The distinction between such men and the coward does not depend upon difference of opinion about the reality or extent of the danger, but on a state of mind which renders it more or less accessible to fear.

Sir James Mackintosh.

A PAGE FROM A BLUE JACKET'S LOG BOOK. (For the Parterre.)

It may be of his wish to roam Repented he; but in his bosom slept The silent thought, nor from his lips did come One word of wail.-Byron.

THE Elliotts of Swingdale, till towards the beginning of the last century, had been for time immemorial, a family of no mean note amongst the border aristocracy of Scotland. But from this period, owing to the improvidence of two or three successive proprietors, it became gradually reduced; and the last of the lairds, still more profuse and hospitable than his predecessors, with greatly diminished means, was, after a fruitless struggle, compelled to part with the last rood of his paternal lands, and seek refuge with his faithful, uncomplaining partner and their boys, in a small mountain dwelling, provided for them by the humanity of his relations.

Mr. Elliott, as he was designated from courtesy, passed his time in alternate grumblings at his fallen fortunes, which he imputed to every cause except the true one-his own improvidence, and

in instilling into the minds of his boys high ideas of the antiquity of their race. The armorial shield of the Elliotts, cut from the panel of his old-fashioned chair before it was sold, did not certainly serve, like the clay of Cæsar, "to stop a hole to keep the wind away;" but it occupied a conspicuous station on the bare wall of the cottage, which sheltered the last laird of the once proud race. To this monument of the rank of his family, he would often point with pride, when recounting to his sons the " tales of other days," and the part taken by their ancestors in the border feuds; and in such reminiscences the old man contrived to soften the mortification of his fallen condition.

Not such were the instructions of Mrs. Elliott; she performed towards them a far better part, by impressing on their ductile minds the necessity for self-exertion as the only sure path to honour and happiness.

But she did more: she relinquished, though not without a severe struggle, her two eldest boys, when they had scarcely attained the age of adolescence, to the care of a relative, a man of wealth and importance in the East, who kindly promised to forward their for