Campbell pronounced the likeness of the lover of her youth excellent, and unclasping the bracelet from which it had been taken, compared the original with Helen's performance, and appealed to Mr. Mountjoy for his opinion. This little accident, and thoughts of the handsome, youthful soldier that was thus presented to his view, might have shaken many an one from his intention, but not so Mr. Marmaduke Mountjoy, who came that morning to offer his hand to the spinster! He was fully aware she had only half a heart to give him,— what then?—it was his own case precisely; and, as he afterwards told her-while looking over some of her china pets— their broken hearts had matched capitally, and he trusted the rivets which bound them together would last for the term of their lives. Miss Campbell asked three days, before making her decision-and yet she had not been so very much surprised at the offer; at the end of which time, it was arranged that the marriage should take place in the course of the winter.

Weeks passed away, and startled-steadied as Frederic had been by his uncle's decision, there had perhaps never been a moment of his life in which he had more thoroughly appreciated the high and excellent qualities by which his guardian and benefactor was ennobled. He could no longer smile at his marvellous simplicity of character; nay, he even began to entertain for it a sort of respect which he had never felt before. At a glance, he saw what opportunities of ministering to his uncle's happiness he had lost; in fact, it seemed that the rough shock which the first rumour of the projected marriage had been to him, had shaken off the foibles of his character. It was in such a mood as this that he sought an interview with Mr. Mountjoy, and bravely acknowledging the time he had lost in youthful follies, expressed his desire to study for the bar, owning candidly that his mind must be

employed, and that if he did not provide worthy occupation for it, he should certainly get into mischief again, or folly at best. Our Old Bachelor, who had lately become wonderfully keen-sighted, immediately acceded, though he had his own opinion about the probability of Frederic ever becoming a fagging student. Accordingly, it was arranged that he should go up to London and commence his studies, with the stipulation that he should return home in January, to report progress, and be present at the wedding.

It was a clear frosty morning, when the earth's winter aspect was spread, and the leafless branches were garlanded with snow-wreaths. But the sun shone cheerfully, and the bells rung merrily, as the bridal party left the old church of RIt was a gala-day in the neighbourhood, and among the poor there was loud talk of huge oxen, and gigantic spits, and Brobdignag plum-puddings, such as the youthful part of the community had never before witnessed. And many were the grateful beings-grateful for more solid services than one good meal-who lined the avenue, as Mr. and Mrs. Marmaduke Mountjoy departed on their wedding excursion. Frederic was to remain at the Lodge during their absence, as he had brought some headache-giving-looking law books from London, to study in this chosen retirement, preparatory to his formally entering himself as a student for the bar. Helen still lingered at the cottage, which was advertised to let, under the protection of an intimate friend, a widow lady, who had come to pass the time with her. We may just observe that Helen also professed to be very busy, as she had undertaken to pack the rare china for removal with her own fair fingers, and had arrangements to make before her cousin's return home, far too numerous to particularise.

We cannot tell how it was that such very busy people found time for anything besides their several occupations. Perhaps,

however, on Helen's part, packing china—and selecting books instead of reading them, proved but dull work, and she required the relaxation of a little agreeable society in the evening; while we know Frederic could not be studying law all day. However this might be, he soon formed the habit of dropping in at the cottage, sometimes of a morning, sometimes of an evening; and though at first the dogs barked, and the parrot screamed on his arrival, long before he had heard half Helen Campbell's songs, old and new, they had become quite used to him. Thus emboldened, he occasionally offered himself as an escort to the ladies in their walks and rides; so that, before three weeks had elapsed, it would have seemed wonderful not to meet at least once in the day; and, in truth, now that they were relations, as Frederic said they were, the greater part of their time was spent together.

But want of space warns us to avoid detail. We shall only hint that Frederic Mountjoy discovered that the law was not his vocation, and that to have applied himself to it with any reasonable hopes of becoming Lord Chancellor, he should have done so at least ten years earlier. Upon second thoughts, too, he began to think he should find occupation for his mind, even in the country, without studying Blackstone, or murdering Macbeth; more especially after a certain event had taken place, of which his uncle must approve, as it would be but following that uncle's good example. Helen loved Shakspere as much as himself; so at least they could read together, if they did not act. She proved an amateur composer, for she arranged some words he had written (to her) after a winter morning's walk:-she was a painter too, as we have heard,— so was he; for though in the likeness he painted of her, her bright eyes certainly did not look exactly the same way, a child might have known for whom it was intended; and though the complexion was rather cadaverous, the arm-chair in which

she sat was wonderfully like. After all the dilettanti have many resources against ennui.

It was a bright May morning, when the church-bells of Ꭱ again rung merrily; but now the young flowers, swayed by a gentle breeze, shook their delicate bells in unison, as they sent forth their odorous greeting to the youthful pair. May! bright May!-the type of their years, with the summer of life before them. As the cavalcade passed The Cottage, it might have been observed that the place was full of workpeople, who even on that day could not rest, so much had they to prepare in the next few weeks-for that was to be the residence of Frederic and his wife.

Only one word more—and it is whispered as a secret. They do say that the young people quite manage "dear uncle and aunt."

LINES TO

WITH A BERLIN UMBRELLA.

BY R. BERNAL, JUN., ESQ., M.P.

DESPISE not, dear lady, the trifle I send,
Though its shelter be feeble and vain;
Ever ready at need, 'tis the type of a friend,
To be used both in sunshine and rain!

For winter and summer-in showers or heat,
With all seasons, you'll borrow its aid;
Then, if 'neath the shadow you find a retreat,
May the donor not fall in the shade!

LOSS AND GAIN.

BY R. M. MILNES, ESQ., M.P.

MYRIAD roses, unregretted,
Perish in their vernal bloom,
That the essence of their sweetness
Once your beauty may perfume.

Myriad veins of richest life-blood

Empty forth their priceless worth,
To exalt one will imperial,

Over mighty realms of earth.

Myriad. hearts are pained and broken,
That one Poet may be taught
To discern the shapes of passion,
And possess them as he ought.

Myriad minds of heavenly temper
Pass, as passes moon or star,
That one philosophic spirit
May ascend the burning car.

Sacrifice and self-abasement
Hallow earth and fill the skies;
And the meanest life is sacred,
Whence the highest may arise.