"I do, perfectly, Jack. The course of true love, as somebody says, I forget who, never did run smooth. For my part, I am in the most distressing situation. I don't know what I shall do." "Nor I!" exclaimed Jack. "I shall go mad, or into the retail line." With these words he darted down a narrow alley. Poor Jack Invoice! CHAPTER III. "How d'ye think I look?" inquired Mr. Ebenezer Drysalter, rushing into the room of the head clerk one Sunday morning, with a very red face. "Do I look like a happy man ?" "I don't understand you, sir,” replied the youth; "and in fact it seems as if for several days past I had been acting and moving in a dream. Every thing is strange and surprising, and I am completely bewildered. What has happened to you?” "I have arranged the preliminaries." "In what, sir?" "In the match." "Ah! with your daughter. I am resigned-happy, Mr. Drysalter." "No-no-I don't mean that-my own marriage with little Matty Peterson's daughter-pretty but poor. You think me too old-hey? But its better late than never." "I am overjoyed at your happiness." 66 There is another person Now, I appoint you my Stop-stop-it isn't all settled yet. to consult-Miss Margaret Peterson. ambassador to treat with the lady—you're a personable fellow with a good address--I want you to arrange it all-speak her fair, and get her consent. You have full powers-you understand." 66 Perfectly, sir," replied the clerk: but he looked like a man in It is questionable whether the failure of the house could have increased his stupefaction. a maze. CHAPTER IV. The ambassador arrived at the house of Mr. Peterson with full powers in a full dress. He was shown into the room occupied by Mr. Matthew Peterson. Mirabile dictu! the old gentleman was the grumpy papa of the sylph of Saratoga. Here was another surprise. sir. "Take a seat, sir," said the old gentleman. "Happy to see you, You come about that little affair, I presume." "Little affair!" exclaimed Augustus to himself. "His daughter's establishment for life!" The old gentleman continued: "Mr. Drysalter spoke to me about it. But as the arrangement of his discourse was very illogical, I found it very difficult to understand him. You come prepared to explain every thing." "I come to propose, Mr. Peterson." "That's hearty. I hate danglers. A comfortable provision is promised the girl-and that's all I require. On my part, sir, I can furnish nothing but blood--blood, sir: the blood in our veins is derived from an honorable line, our great great grandfather having been knighted by George II., and lord mayor of London. There is no need of words about the matter-I like the proposal-I accept it—and you can tell the girl so herself." "No buts, sir-I have said it. I am a positive old gentleman; I know it, and I glory in it. My words are as inflexible as an Irish weathercock, or the laws of the Medes and Persians. Good morning, sir." The descendant of the lord mayor of London left the room, but his place was soon supplied by his daughter, the blueeyed sylph of Saratoga. After some common-place remarks the conversation took a very interesting turn. Augustus began to speak in the character of an ambassador, but Margaret could not help wishing he was pleading his own passion. The young man soon grew interested in his subject; he forgot that he was acting as an agent, the importance of his union with Miss Drysalter escaped from his view, and he only saw the loving and lovely Margaret gazing with fondness on his face. “This lover-this Mr. Drysalter," said the lady, hesitatingly, "is-is rather too old. You know what the song says "An old, an old man Will never do for me, For May and December Will never, will never agree." Decidedly too old-I can't accept." "Am I too old, Miss Margaret ?" "Why no." "Can-can-can you love me ?" “I'll—I'll—I'll try." "And will you marry me?" "Perhaps." CHAPTER V. It was a very singular fact, to prove which I can bring witnesses of indubitable veracity, that about half-past five o'clock, on a July afternoon, as Mr. Augustus Summery was walking down the central avenue of a tea-garden in the Bowery, with Miss Jane Drysalter upon his arm, Mr. John Invoice appeared approaching in an opposite direction, escorting, in similar fashion, the fair person of Miss Margaret Peterson. The parties met in the middle of the walk, and, like the Leslies and Seytons of "the Abbot," neither appeared willing to make way for the other. Their objects, however, were amicable, and an exchange of partners was speedily effected. This done, without a word, the gentlemen escorted the ladies to the gate of the garden, and handed them into a carriage which was in attendance. After a glance around, Messrs. Summery and Invoice entered the vehicle, the coachman put the steps up and the door to, sprang to his box, cracked his whip, and away they went! CHAPTER VI. "Mr. Summery not in yet?" asked Mr. Ebenezer Drysalter, as he hung his hat upon a pin in his counting-room on the ensuing morning. "Never knew him so late before-don't like it-Punctuality's the soul of business. Where's the morning paper?" "Great news, sir," said the clerk, who handed the great man the paper with a broad grin upon his face. "Wish you joy, sir." Mr. Ebenezer Drysalter opened the blanket sheet. He ran over the news with a curious eye, and was about to drop the print when he happened to glance at the list of marriages, in which he found the following-" Last evening, "At Fishcreek, by 'Squire Harmanus Barkalow, Mr. Augustus Summery, of the firm of Drysalter and Summery, to Miss Margaret, only daughter of Matthew Peterson, Esq. of this city." "Also, Mr. John Invoice, to Miss Jane, youngest daughter of Ebenezer Drysalter, Esq., all of this city." An elderly gentleman in a passion is a very imposing spectacle. Mr. Ebenezer Drysalter appeared almost rabid; and there was a rush of clerks from the counting-room, like a boat's crew that "starn all" at the flurry of a whale. As the paroxysm passed away, the great man folded up the paper, and deposited it in his pocket, took down his hat from its peg, brushed the beaver carefully, placed it on his head, and issued into the street. He wended his way with rapid steps to the house of Mr. Peterson. In the hall he encountered that gentleman himself. "Do you know it?" gasped the importer of dry goods. "Ha! ha! yes!" replied Mr. Peterson. "To think of his atrocity. But yesterday I took him into partnership. But the firm shall be dissolved; and your daughter, sir, "Showed her taste in preferring a young man to an old one. "Crabbed age and youth Thank your stars, Ebenezer, my old friend, that chance has defeated your plan of making an ape of yourself in your declining Jane has not thrown herself away, and if you're willing to be reconciled, you can find the young couples in the parlor. They took breakfast with me." years. The old gentleman entered the breakfast-room. There was one of those scenes that occur in the last act of a comedy; fine speeches by young gentlemen, and tears by young ladies, and a free pardon by the fathers. Mr. Ebenezer Drysalter did nothing to the detriment of his junior partner and son-in-law, and consoled himself with the old adage-WHAT CAN't be cured, musT BE ENDURED. THE HEBREW MUSE. AN ODE. I. 1. BREAK forth in song-awake, sweet lyre! No more should Winter's breath profane the strings ' That erst were fanned by seraph wings But let thine ancient God the song inspire. From thee of old,-harmonious shell, What heaven-born strains of music fell When sainted David tuned thy trembling chords! A mortal singing angels' words When, warm with inspiration's fires, He swept with frenzied hand thy quiv'ring wires, And shed a thrilling rapture round; While Heaven was bent to hear-and God approved the sound. I. 2. Oh! holy harp-of nobler strain Than Homer's torrent song, or Maro's lay, But wake again-be strong once more To sing those PROPHET-BARDS of yore, Who, on thy wires their glowing praise expressed Their song forth flaming from their breast Since first the leader of the anointed host Beheld the proud Egyptian's boast, Humbled beneath his vengeful rod-- And sung with rapturous voice the triumph of his God.* I. 3. Whelmed beneath the angry wave While the timbrels joined the chorus And the virgins tuned their voice, "Shout! our foes are fallen before us And ye holy tribes rejoice! Behold the triumph that your God hath made Behold the horse and rider in the deep, Low, 'neath the surge is haughty Pharo laid, And Egypt's daughters are but left to weep. Vain were their steeds of war-their chariots vain Our God but sent his breath-the embattled hosts were slain." II. 1. Hushed is the song. The muse divine Led by the mystic cloud and pillar'd blaze, Journeys towards Canaan's land of milk and wine. At length on Sion-hill she stood, (A home, how pleasant and how good!) And waked again to song her murmuring shell, + Thy monarch heard, oh Israel! When heavy gloom perplexed his breast, And fiend-wrought fears his troubled soul opprest Lulled by the sound, his griefs were still; While rung the magic chords-while gushed th' harmonious rill. We may date the commencement of Hebrew poetry at the time when Moses and the children of Israel sang their song of triumph at the Red Sea.-Exodus-XV. Chapter. Saul-who when David played on the harp, was free from the influence of evil spirits; as, see 1 Samuel, XVI. 23. |