by her sister, pale in looks and broken in hope-not from poverty, for that she could bear, but from the consciousness of undeserved neglect, and unmerited unkindness-it is easy to see how much of it is assumed. A momentary pause succeeds; the girl breaks suddenly from her sister and throws herself, sobbing, on her mother's neck. The father steps hastily forward, and takes her husband's hand. Friends crowd round to offer their hearty congratulations, and happiness and harmony again prevail. As to the dinner, it's perfectly delightful-nothing goes. wrong, and everybody is in the very best of spirits, and disposed to please and be pleased. Grandpapa relates a circumstantial account of the purchase of the turkey, with a slight digression relative to the purchase of previous turkeys, on former Christmas-days, which grandmamma corroborates in the minutest particular. Uncle George tells stories, and carves poultry, and takes wine, and jokes with the children at the side-table, and exhilarates everybody with his good humour and hospitality; and when, at last, a stout servant staggers in with a gigantic pudding, with a sprig of holly in the top, there is such a laughing, and shouting, and clapping of little chubby hands, and kicking up of fat dumpy legs, as can only be equalled by the applause with which the astonishing feat of pouring lighted brandy into mince-pies, is received by the younger visitors. Then the dessert! and the wine!-and the fun! Such beautiful speeches, and such songs, from Aunt Margaret's husband, who turns out to be such a nice man, and so attentive to grandmamma! Even grandpapa not only sings his annual song with unprecedented vigour, but on being honoured with an unanimous encore, according to annual custom, actually comes out with a new one which nobody but grandmamma ever heard before; and a young scape-grace of a cousin, who has been in some disgrace with the old people, for certain heinous sins of omission and commission-neglecting to call, and persisting in drinking Burton ale astonishes everybody into convulsions of laughter by volunteering the most extraordinary comic songs that ever were heard. And thus the evening passes, in a strain of rational good-will and cheerfulness, doing more to awaken the sympathies of every member of the party in behalf of his neighbour, and to perpetuate their good feeling during the ensuing year, than half the treatises that have ever been written, by half the Philosophers that have ever lived.-" Boz." "LIVE THEM DOWN." BROTHER, art thou poor and lowly, Toiling, drudging, day by day, Journeying painfully and slowly, On thy dark and desert way? Pause not, though the proud ones frown! Though to Vice thou shalt not pander, Hate may wield her scourges horrid; Scorn may bind with thorns thy forehead; NOT IN. SHE waited in the drawing-room, Were on the dress she wore; One little foot just peeped without The clock was on the stroke of eight, Now listening close, and laying now And toying with her curls and rings, At length a step was heard, and then "Five minutes and a-half too soon," Then to her maid,-" It is no sin, "For, if he loves me as he says, My nerves are really quite unstrung, But true love never did run smooth, And when the door was opened wide, The maid beheld the expected guest, And told him with a grace as sweet Her mistress had declared it was In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale, Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, Should they who are nearest and dearest thy heart, - mb And, oh! when Death comes in his terrors, to cast THY NEIGHBOUR. THY neighbour? It is he whom thou Thy neighbour? 'Tis the fainting poor, Thy neighbour? 'Tis that weary man, Thy neighbour? "Tis the heart bereft Thy neighbour? Yonder toiling slave, Oh, pass not, pass not heedless by: The breaking heart from misery,- HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN. THE bark that held a prince went down, He lived-for life may long be borne Why comes not death to those who mourn? There stood proud forms around his throne, But which could fill the place of one,- But seas dashed o'er his son's bright hair :- He sat where festal bowls went round, He saw the tourney's victor crowned A murmur of the restless deep : A voice of winds that would not sleep :- Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace And strangers took the kinsman's place At many a joyous board; Graves, which true love had bathed with tears, Were left to heaven's bright rain; Fresh hopes were born for other years :- ALL HOLLOW. I STOOD beneath a hollow tree, the blast it hollow blew ; |