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VII.

The star of the unconquer'd will,
He rises in my breast,
Serene, and resolute, and still,
And calm, and self-possess'd.

VIII.

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art,
That readest this brief Psalm,
As one by one thy hopes,depart,
Be resolute and calm.

IX.

O fear not, in a world like this,
And thou shalt know ere long,
Know, how sublime a thing it is,
To suffer and be strong.

BRITISH SPORTSMEN.

"Scotland, the land of all I love,
The land of all that love me!
Land, whose green sod my youth has trod,
Whose sod shall be above me !

Land of my home, my father's land,

Land where my soul was cherished ;—” Cherished?-Yes cherished!-as if among the leaves, the luxuriance, the never-dying odours of Vallombrosa. Yea, how doth my memory spell me!—

"How doth it with awakening spell
Unlock the springs of musing's cell,
How flashes on its arrowy track,
The Sunny light of childhood back!"

To think of Culloden, on whose

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Swarthy brow

Spring no wild flowers nor verdure fair,'

And of spots amid

"Whose fairy loneliness

Nought but the Lapwing's cry is heard,".

to think of the vapours that linger

and of the

"Round the heights,

That melt, and soon must perish;
One hour is thine, no more is mine!

Sad thought, that I would banish,--'

"Land of brown heath and shaggy wood!
Land of the mountain and the flood!
Land of my sires! what mortal hand

Can ere untie the filial band

That knits me to thy rugged strand ?-.”

when, 'tis proclaimed,

"From yon covert whose tow'ring oaks—

Above the humble copse aspiring rise,

What glorious triumphs, burst in every gale
Upon our ravished ears! The hunter's shout

The clanging horns swell their sweet winding notes ;-' while the pack wide-opening give out the propagated cry through all the neighbouring regions, and the loose old hounds, hang in the

"Rear, till some important point

Rouse all their energies.-"

Rhapsodist!-what sayest thou ?- Oh

because,

""Tis the sound of the huntsman's horn;

Then on, brave boy! on and away,-"

"A southerly wind and a cloudy sky
Proclaim it a hunting morning.'

To be serious, and not composed of disjecta membra, let me state-that the "noble science," is in every way becoming more refined, more intellectual, and more valued. The sister

arts of Poetry and Painting have been invoked to celebrate the Chase: Somerville not unsuccessfully wooed the Nine in its praise; and our grandmammas lined the walls of their apartments with tapestried representations of the valorous deeds of their husbands and brothers. There are few mansions that cannot boast of paintings called "hunting pieces," in which sundry elderly gentlemen figure. Dear and delightful are these pieces! faithful records are they of days and deeds gone by. Yea, they are not without their sentiments; for they give us, at least, the representations of life, and, what is more, of some of its most characteristio charms.

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I was sitting one morning in the great drawing-room, quite secure from intrusion, as I fancied; a book lay open upon my lap, on which I strove in vain to fix my wandering thoughts. A noise beside me made me start from my lethargy, and looking up I saw the hateful figure of the Marquis de Chalon. I screamed and rose to quit the room, when he placed himself

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before me and poured out his apologies for the intrusion, with an air of respect slightly tinged with raillery, which arrested me for the moment. Leoni, he said, had commissioned him in a letter he had just received, to call and make enquiries after my health, and to communicate the result to him. I did not believe him, and I was on the point of telling him so; but without giving me time to do so, he ran on in a strain of the coolest impudence, and would take no hint of my desire to be alone. "I see, Madam," said he, with an air of affected concern, that you are aware of the embarrassing predicament in which my friend the Baron finds himself at present. Be assured that my feeble resources are at his disposal, unfortunately they would be but a trifle to the prodigality of such a magnifico. But it is consoling to think that he is bold, enterprising, and ingenious. He has retrieved his fortune frequently before. He will do so again. But you, Madam, will have much to endure, so young, so delicate, and so worthy of a better lot. It is for your sake, that I feel deeply afflicted at the recent follies of Leoni, as well as at those he will most assuredly commit before he shall find resources. At your age, poverty is a sad thing, particularly to one always accustomed to luxury."

I interrupted him abruptly, for I saw the drift of his sarcastic compassion.

I was as yet ignorant of the deep villainy of the man. "I see, Madam," said he, "that your youth and candour have been cruelly abused, and I cannot return you scorn, for you misunderstand me and accuse me, while I comprehend and esteem you. To enable me to bear with your reproaches, I shall put on all that stoicism with which those who fearlessly devote themselves for others must always be armed, and I shall tell you into what an abyss you have fallen, and from what an abject condition I would withdraw you."

He pronounced these words so calmly and emphatically, that my credulous character was as it were subjugated by their power. For a moment I thought that, blinded by my misfortunes, I had perchance mistaken a sincere friend, and I left him at liberty to speak. He saw that he must make an effort to turn to account this moment of weakness and uncertainty, and forthwith he proceeded to give me some information about Leoni, which was, alas, correct.

"I am surprised," said he, "how a heart so tender and confiding can have felt an attachment, for such a length of time,

to a man of such a character. It is true that nature has gifted him with irresistible seductions, and that he possesses extraordinary expertness in hiding his turpitude and taking the externals of honesty. Every city in Europe, has declared him to be a most fascinating man. There are only a few persons in Italy who know that he is capable of every villainy to satisfy his numberless whims. To day you will see him fashion himself on the type of Lovelace; to-morrow on that of the Pastor Fido. As he is somewhat of a poet, he is open to every impression, he can conceive and ape every virtue; he can assume and play every part. He imagines he feels what he imitates, and sometimes he identifies himself so strongly with his model, that he actually feels the passions, and attains to actual grandeur. But as the substratum of his mind is base and corrupted, as there is nothing in him but affectation and caprice, vice suddenly makes its appearance in his blood; mere weariness of hypocrisy urges him into habits entirely contrary to those which seem natural to him. Those who have only seen him under one of his false masks, are astonished and believe he is turned fool; those who know that his character consists in having nothing true, nothing fixed, smile and wait patiently for some new invention."

Although this portrait was so revolting as almost to suffocate me, it appeared as if every word darted rays of dazzling light; I was struck dumb, my nerves became contracted. gazed at Chalon with a stupid fixedness: he exulted in his power and continued.

"You are astonished at this character. If you had a little more experience, my dear Lady, you would know that it is very common in the world. To attain it in any degree of perfection, a certain superiority of intellect is requisite: hence many a fool abstains from enacting what he so much admires, from a conviction of his own incapacity to succeed in it. You may always observe a mediocre and vain man firmly entrench himself behind some one quality which he adheres to with obstinacy, and which he parades as his characteristic, and which consoles him for the success of others. He will admit that he is not so brilliant; but he will affirm that he is more solid and more useful. Mankind may be divided into insupportable imbeciles and dangerous fools. Everything considered, the last are best. I can rely on my prudence to set their arts at defiance, and on my forbearance to amuse myself with them. It is better to laugh with a malicious buffoon, than

yawn with a virtuous dolt. This is the reason why you have seen me in the intimacy of a man whom I neither love nor esteem."

It was from

The Marquis then drew a letter from his pocket, which he very leisurely unfolded and presented to me. Leoni, and ran thus :

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'My dear Marquis,—Although you sometimes put me in such a rage as to make me long to break your head, I believe you do feel a friendship for me, and that you are sincere in your offers to serve me. However, I am not in need of them at present. I have something better in hand; my affairs are in a fair way of coming round most gloriously. The only stumbling block in my way now is my cara sposa. You are quite right. Her appearance here would mar all my schemes. But what can I do? I feel a most ridiculous and invincible attachment to her. Her grief unmans me. I cannot see her weep without being at her feet. You think lightly if her : you are wrong, she is proof against the temptation of wealth. But spite you say, yes, that is more likely, for where is the woman who will not do from anger what she would not do from love? Juliet is proved. I have ascertained this beyond doubt, on a late occasion. If she hears I am at the feet of another-but no, I cannot think of it without a pang-you may try her." "And now," said the Marquis when had finished the perusal, "I may go in search of

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My gondola," said I, crushing the hateful epistle and ringing the bell with violence.

"Why what the deuce is she at now!" said the Marquis in

amazement.

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Tell my maid to pack a trunk for me instantly," said I to the servant," and let Beppo have the gondola at the door as soon as possible."

"Why you are not going to leave the house," said the Marquis. "Where would you go to ?" I hurried out of the room and was soon equipped in a travelling dress. I came down stairs, followed by my maid carrying a cloak; as I was stepping into the gondola, an agitated hand withheld me by the dress. I turned about and beheld Chalon betraying symptoms of terror and dismay. "Where are you going?" said he in an altered tone. "To Milan," said I.

"Stop a moment," he cried in a rage me, or you shall not stir."

"the letter,-give it

"Beppo!" said I, in the exasperation of anger and fear, springing towards the godolier, "rid me of this ruffian,—he is

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