morning gown with composure again. At last, forth came the matter. "I have called, Miss Gordon-to take the liberty-to beg-you would have the kindness-to excuse me for taking the liberty of begging you would be so kind as to grant me a few minutes' conversation on a subject-" But for the life of me I could get no farther; and, kind creature, she did her best to help me. "Oh! Mr. Mooney," said she, "I know what you are going to say; pray don't mention it-for I assure you I am not in any degree offended; and I be lieve no one was seriously hurt-at least I am not though I must acknowledge you held very hard. Indeed I am afraid I am to blame myself chiefly, as it was probably my endeavour to stop you which occasioned you to go so much astray." 66 But, Miss Gordon-my dear Miss Gordon, it's on another subject." "Oh! I beg your pardon," said my inamorato. "A-a tender one-a very tender one," continued I. "Excuse me," said she, blushing to the very roots of her dark tresses-" if I ask whether your giddy chum be not at the bottom of this? he has sent you perhaps to-to-pray go on, Mr. Mooney." "Yes, madam," said I ; delighted to perceive she was beginning to take notice. "Mr. Gordon and I have already talked the matter over." Upon my word, then," said she, as decidedly bothered as I had been a few minutes before, "he should be well punished for his indiscretion-and pray what did he say?" "He has given me full permission, ma'am, to "To do what, Mr. Mooney, in heaven's name?" "Declare my unalterable affection for the most lovely of her sex-Oh, Miss Gordon, Miss Gordon!"-and I sank on my knees before her, and grasped the white hand that dropped powerless by my side, at my declaration-which she, in disregard of all the rules ever observed in similar cases, to my utter astonishment snatched away with such violence, as sent me sprawling on my face at her feet. "Did you not say, sir," thundered she, with a strong northern accent, "that your friend, Mr. Gordon, was a party to this?" pendicular, and gazing on her with silent surprise, not to say terror. "Then, sir," continued she as before, "let neither him or you dare eevr to address me again,”—and bursting into an uncontrollable fit of tears she rushed from the room, very like a young lady in a passion. There was a real antithesis in a small family; what set the brother laughing, set the sister weeping; and to tell you nothing but the truth, it puzzled me beyond comparison. I might easily tell you now, that I thought this, or I thought that—but by the Lord George, sir, I wasn't able to think any thing; and I know, no more than a drunken man how I managed to get home to my rooms. When my consciousness returned, I caught myself recounting the whole of this strange transaction to Gordon, who, though he began with roars of laughter, turned red and pale twenty times alternately, before I reached the conclusion; and then snatching up his hat, gave evident demonstration of his intention of taking the air. You are going to Merrion-square, Gordon,” said I. "I am," answered he, in a hollow, joyless tone. "Then I trust you intend putting my suit in its proper light," continued I. 66 "Oh to the d- - with you and your suit !" exclaimed the young gentleman, impatiently; you have ruined me by your absurdity;" and so saying, he exit made-left me alone; but alas, not with my glory. If you please we'll skip the occurrences of that night, and all I hoped, and feared, and wished, and intended, and conjectured, and dreamed until I awoke next morning, and found a note from Gordon on my table; at first I thought it was a challenge, but no-let me see how it ran : "Dear Fred,-I am happy to say your peace and mine is made-you must learn to do without me for a few days, as before you see this I shall be on my road for Gretna Green with the future Mrs. Gordon, whither you may follow me as soon as you can get a companion. As soon as you can, pray call on my poor sister and console with her on this step I have taken, as I am afraid it will fret her, poor thing; grief is soft, you know, so this opportunity may be the making of your fortune. Excuse my roughness on yesterday, and believe me your ever attached, "EDWARD GORDON." some made a fool of you, sir-he never had a sister." Never had a sister!-the words actually stunned me-" Put that and that together, master Fred," said Father Phillemy one day, when explaining some knotty point to me, and by applying the funny old fellow's advice to the present occasion, I began to arrive at certain conclusions highly derogatory to the candour of Mr. Edward Gordon or the discernment of his chum; but suspense on such a point was intolerable-so out I faltered. "And the lady, sir, whom I met here-Miss Gordon-who was she, sir ?" 66 Poor fellow, then, he was kind after all, and even amid such heavy concernments of his own had taken time to think of mine; but it puzzled me in no slight degree to discover what unhappy female he had prevailed on to wander so far north in such suspicious company. One after another I fixed on all the girls of our mutual acquaintance, young and old, but without at all satisfying my curiosity. In such profound secrecy had he carried on his affair, my little friend of the boarding school appearing his most probable partner, though even with her he had scarce passed the limits of ordinary and legitimate flirtation. So, compelling myself to be content with this hypothesis, Why, what the devil did you take I turned to my own serious business, her to be, sir-not his sister, I hopeand set off on my mission of condo- ho, ho-I see it all now; by all that's lence to sympathise with the fair beautiful, he has made a fool of you as mourner in Merrion-square. The first well as the rest of us! That young person I saw was Mr. Atkinson, though lady, sir? why the only direction I when I asked for Miss Gordon, the can give you as to her present locality skip of a footman grinned at me, and would be, wind and weather permitting, went off, as he said, to inquire if she to about the middle of the Irish channel, was at home. The poor old gentle- bound on a wildgoose chase for matriman looked so angry and confused that monial happiness with a cub of one I immediately perceived he had by and twenty; but as you seem to be in means become aware of my the babyhouse, I shall explain to you friend's present interesting occupation, the whole matter, of which you appear so I opened the business. to be entirely ignorant. By all accounts Mr. Edward Gordon and his cousin, Miss Emma Gordon, were a very precocious couple, they having expressed their mutual affection when the former was of the tender age of ten, and the latter nine years; it was a capital joke then; but it was altogether another affair when their ages were sixteen in the one case and fifteen in the other; so at that age, your friend was sent to college, and as much as possible debarred from any interview, or communication with the object of his affections, it by no means meeting the wishes of their parents that so nonsensical an arrangement should ever be permitted to ripen into any thing serious. Matters were in this train, sir, up to the present, when, on an invitation of my wife's, the young lady was permitted to pay a visit to us and the metropolis with the strictest injunctions to keep clear of her inflammable cousin, a command which she obeyed pretty well, all things considered; until, like an egregious old fool, I threw temptation in her way by inviting the swain to meet a few friends here the night before last, when you were so good as to accompany him; and indeed they both behaved themselves so remarkably well and discreetly that I relaxed a good deal of my vigilance "Sad affair, this, Mr. Atkinson." "Good morning, sir; good morning. Sad affair, indeed; and I conceive I have been very badly treated in it but it's no matter-pooh-not the slightest matter in the world; and why the deuce do I let it fret me so? -have you breakfasted, sir?" 66 Thank you, long since." "But, my dear sir, do you know who the young lady is for whose society our friend has deserted us ?" "His own cousin, sir-no less I assure you his own first cousin his cousin german, sir-his father's brother's daughter, sir; oh, if I had the minx now by the two ears, I'd cure her of her love fit, I warrant." "I had a note from him this morning, sir, in which he directed me to call on his sister and deliver a message to her can I see her for that pur pose ?" " 66 Sister, sir! I'm sorry to tell you the scapegrace is All the sisters of his father's house as Shakespeare says, for which I am especially sorry; if it were otherwise, his worthy father might have some excuse for cutting him off with a shilling for his disobedience. The fellow (I sighed bitterly when I recollected the encounter in the hall; but he didn't mind me, and proceeded.) Yesterday while I was from home, it appears that he took advantage of my absence, and called; but she was at first sight dutiful enough to refuse to see him. I'll do her justice, you see; and indeed she continued inflexible, until he bribed the chamber-maid; and so broke down the foolish girl's determination. I found a note from the fair runaway this morning, apologising, and making all pretty explanations, and ending by hoping I would influence their parents to forgive them. I believe they intend to return this way, but may I be ***** if I speak one word to them!" "Ditto," said I internally; but neither of us kept our vow; for before that day fortnight the worthy old gentleman handed the fair and blushing bride out of the steamer, and on Wednesday next I'm to be at the christening of her sixth child. Apropos—there's a sister of the lady fair to take a part in the ceremony-they say she's pretty, and all that; but what the deuce is it to me when I've made a resolution to live and die a bachelor." He die a bachelor!-the Lord forgive him for lying, he was married to her within a month after, teste meipso, and thus stood between me and the blue devils for the rest of the season. MARY'S DREAM. Wherefore my Mary art thou weeping, For I had dreamed that I was lying And thousand glitt'ring wings were flying Mother methought that low were bending And crowned with wreaths of roses white. Mother, their snowy robes were flowing, Mother, I dreamed these spirits tying And as we rose, around us straying, And as we rose spirits were wending From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, The tears of penitence ascending, Or fraught with peace to the forgiven. And as we rose-sweet music sounding THE INFANT SLAVES. The following lines were suggested by reading, in the very able and interesting article on the Factory question, in the Quarterly Review for Dec. 1836, the following extract from Mr. J. Fielden's pamphlet, which, after speaking of the miseries and barbarous treatment to which poor children are exposed, goes on to say-" In some instances they were driven to commit suicide, to evade the cruelties of a world in which, though born to it so recently, their happiest moments had been passed in the garb and coercion of a workhouse. The beautiful and romantic valleys of Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire, and Lancashire, secluded from the public eye, became the dismal solitudes of torture, and many a murder." Oh happy infant band! by cares of men Away they speed! where springs the primrose pale, Ah children! sometimes think, amidst your glee, And doom'd to days and nights of toil and pain- The glen is lonely now-the laugh and song, That well bespeaks a heart oppress'd with woe, And o'er the cheek, where youth's fresh tints should glow, The little hands are wasted by their toil It makes the blood within the heart to boil! And then the mutterings, sad, and deep, and wild, Of that bereft one-but a very child! She seeks the rushing stream-the waves divide- The night-birds scream, and droop their dusky wings; |