pressed her to his heart, and, mid smiles and tears, called her his child! And now at last was Mary Graham informed as to the parentage of her nurseling: Charles, now Sir Charles Harrington, was the father of the little Ellen, and Laura Vane the mother. Finding that there was no hope of gaining the consent of their parents to their union, they had entered into a private marriage, of which the only witnesses were Edward Harrington and a Mrs. Ellerton, a young widow, who though a few years older than Laura, had been for years her only friend and confidante; who had been present at Ellen's birth, and who closed the eyes of the ill-fated young mother. Sir Charles Harrington never entered into a second marriage, so that our little gleaner is now one of the richest heiresses, perhaps, in England, being already in possession of the Vane estate, which she holds in right of her mother, and also entitled to the reversion of Ashley Park, with all lands, tenements, &c., thereunto belonging. John and Mary Graham, though falling into the sere and yellow leaf, are "as happy as the day is long,"-never weary of chanting the praises of "their child, Miss Ellen," such being the titles by which they connect their parental feelings, and their respect; and looking forward eagerly to the time when their cares may be employed by a grand-child, Lady Ellen-which, entre nous, gentle reader, may not be very far off, as there is a certain Lord Al- but it is not fair to tell a secret that has been confided to us. Uncle Edward has made a splendid fortune in India, and is coming home to find a wife who will help him to spend it in England; for myself, I doubt not that he will succeed. G THE PASSING BELL. BY MRS. MABERLY. THOU wilt come when thou hearest the passing bell Slowly and solemnly toll; Thou wilt come when thou hearest the dismal knell That rings for the parting soul. Then leave thy gay and thy courtly hall, They are weaving a garland upon the green, A chaplet of roses fair; Not now for the brow of their May-day queen Oh! place it thou! for my early death And take, in the sigh of the rose's breath, Wilt thou weep when mutely thus I claim Thou knewest the love, not the grief and shame, Of the heart that thou hast broken. But scatter the roses above my head This hope like a sunbeam plays Round my sinking heart, and my lone death-bed, Then come when thou hearest the passing bell Come when thou hearest the dismal knell, ONCE more fair Nature smiles, and from the hand Of icy Winter bursts, in varied hues,— The long bound prisoner-with balmy dews In glowing beauty spring, so fair so frail, That 'neath the midnight breeze, they shrink with fear, Over their mossy beds. How every tree, Field, flower, and bank, in new-clad beauty glows, Breathing sweet perfume; and each breath, a lay THE BANQUET. BY THE BARONESS DE CALABRELLA. TOWARDS the close of the eleventh century, when the several powers of Europe were reposing from the toil of the crusades, Richard of England passed over with an army into Normandy, impatient to make war on Philip of France, whom he had long hated. He was followed by a splendid retinue, composed of barons, knights, and other distinguished persons. Some few of these followers were accompanied by their wives and daughters; among whom might be numbered Sir Otho de Monthermer, his son and daughter. The youth and beauty of the Lady Mabel soon became the theme of many a Norman Baron, while her brother Ulric was cited as a model of chivalrous courage and noble bearing. Any father might have been proud of the praises lavished on these children, but Sir Otho knew not the joys of parental affection; his stern and unbending nature had been proof against the sweet and gentle being whom he had called wife, but who had been consigned to the grave some few years before this expedition set out there were not, indeed, wanting those who (at the time of her decease), hinted that her husband's unkind treatment had hastened that event. Sir Otho expected and commanded his children's obedience, as a matter of right, but never thought of obtaining it through the surer medium of their love. His fortune, like many others' in those days, had been lavished on military exploits, and wasted by civil strifes: so that it was supposed to be as a measure of economy, as much as from attachment to his sovereign, that Sir Otho accepted the office of chamberlain in the king's suite; but there were few to whom the real springs that directed Sir Otho's actions were known. Ulric, his noble son Ulric, was often pained and put to shame by discerning them; and in no instance had he been more sensible of these feelings than on the present occasion; for he could not hide from himself that his father was actuated by the hope he entertained of seeing his daughter wedded to the rich and powerful Baron de Tracy, whose broad lands were contiguous to those he still called his own, though long since mortgaged to this neighbouring lord, whose claims on them were to be remitted during Sir Otho's life, in return for the gift of the fair Mabel's hand; and as the maiden's repugnance to this alliance was no longer matter of doubt, Sir Otho judged it expedient that the Baron de Tracy (who had declared his intention of attending the king), should not go, unaccompanied by them, to a country where he might, mayhap, find as handsome, and more willing damsels to listen to his vows. Richard's turbulent and restless spirit soon led him to prosecute his designs against his brother of France, and engage him in those frivolous exploits which history rather seeks to veil from ridicule than expose to future ages. But after the siege of Verneuil and the taking of Loches, while negociations for peace were pending, and the troops lay inactive in Anjou, many of Richard's followers engaged in feats of arms. The tournaments which had taken place in the East were still fresh in the minds of all; and though their present sport could be but in mimickry of those brilliant pageants, many a lance was couched, and many a tilt was run, in honour of the Lady Mabel's charms. On one of these occasions a knight entered the lists fully |