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He took a minute's thought, with his head between his hands. 'What was Myte's story?'

I repeated what he had told me.

'When she was turned out of doors by Lord Macclesfield,' he commenced abruptly, she came home to her mother, here. She shortly afterwards gave birth to a son. You are that son. Well, (let me tell it in the order of time,) in two or three months the divorce passed the House of Lords. It was a thought amongst her servants that, after this, Lord Rivers would have married her. I believe my lady had hopes to that effect. What she-the woman-hoped or expected, Heaven knows-perhaps the other place; for it was not long before it was plain to every one that she had conceived an unnatural hatred to you. What she attempted ineffectually against Lord Rivers once, was three times practised against you-thank God's mercy, not hers, with equal ill success. She tried to take away your life, Dick, -that we knew; as she had done that of your father, as we were told, and as we believed. Upon this, Lady Mason thought it humane and prudent (for the woman would have been hanged, Dick,) to get you removed; and she took me into her counsel. You were taken to my sister, Freeman. There was another reason-that was Lady Mason's own-why it was expedient you should be got out of the way. Colonel Brett became constant in his visits. I know not whether it was the hope of securing the Colonel for her daughter, or the fear lest her malice should pursue you to death, that influenced my lady to give out that you were dead; and to bind me by a solemn oath—but that I have told you. Lady Mason has since, and often, informed me that she continued to indulge the expectation that time would assuage the malignity of Mrs. Brett,-that an opportunity would at last present itself of doing you full justice by restoring you to your mother. Lord Rivers had caused you to be baptized in his own name, and had assured my lady many times during your infancy that he would provide handsomely for you.' Here Ludlow sighed and paused.

'There are two

I had listened to him with breathless attention. points,' I said, that I wish cleared up. Why was I taken from your sister, and sent to school, with assurances that I was one day to be a gentleman; why, after four years, was I abruptly removed from St. Albans, and sent to the shoemaker?'

'Your godmother, Mrs. Lloyd,' answered Ludlow, 'died at that time, leaving you three hundred pounds. She was my lady's intimate friend, and was in the secret; and had often insisted with her that you should be brought up as a gentleman; saying that she was assured Lord Rivers would keep his word. But when his lordship died, it was discovered that he had not left you a farthing. And that is why you were withdrawn from school, and handed over to the shoemaker.'

'Lady Mason was in constant communication with his lordship, of

course?' I inquired. He knew that her ladyship relied upon his promise?'

'Of that I am not aware,' replied Ludlow.

'Well, I will bid you good evening,' said I; 'your story has robbed me of all sleep for this night. I shall think over this affair, which likewise must not be permitted to sleep. Would that your lady and you, bungling accomplices that ye are, and have been, had left me to the tender mercies of my mother!'

'You may insure them now,' he answered; 'but you are of an age to withstand them. God bless you! Call upon me to-morrow evening. The worst is over-all easy-sailing now. Nay, don't ask me about the other at present. I am sick-horribly ill-that woman has set my heart in a sort of a whirr-and my brain spins, too. I have a trial to go through to-morrow morning, and must rest for it—if I can.'

It did not once occur to me, till I had proceeded some distance towards home, so absorbed was I in reflections upon the strange events of the evening, to question Ludlow concerning the private wrongs of which he had spoken, and which, at least as strongly as a concern for my welfare, had incited him to reproduce me before my mother. I was tempted to return to him, and demand explanation on that head, but the lateness of the hour prevented me. After all, it was of no great moment. As it had not contributed to my present state, so it could not alter my destiny. His object, it seemed, had been best served by a religious obedience to the orders of his mistress.

When I got home Myte rallied me, as he had done on several previous evenings, on my singular gravity, telling his daughters to 'go hang,' for that I was the captive of Semiramis. 'When Ninus goes to 'Ninny's tomb," ," said he, 'behold his successor. A spinster's doom, Goth, is thine. Vandal, thy portion is celibacy.'

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Goth blushed exceedingly at this raillery, whilst Vandal, her father's darling, laughed in hearty concert with the old fellow. Mrs. Myte preserved a staid and uncommon formality of aspect, and shortly took occasion to beckon her elder daughter out of the room. Vandal quickly followed. Myte fell asleep; and at last I retired to bed, after having minutely examined every lineament of his droll countenance, with an endeavour to ascertain how a sudden announcement of the discovery I had made would be likely to act upon it. I reserved a solution of that problem till the morrow.

FREEDOM.

BY SIMON DACH.*

LOVE, thou didst possess me once,
And didst steal my trusting heart,
Prudence, caution, all gave way,
Lulled by thy too cunning art.
Good night, Cupid, and good bye,
Free and full of joy am I.

Rescued from thy heavy yoke,

How my present lot Í bless:

Love, I have at length escaped

From thy luscious bitterness. Good night, &c.

Cast thy longing eyes around

If thou canst new victims see,

Fools, who, when thy bow is bent,

Blindly trust their hearts to thee. Good night, &c.

And thou, goddess of my thoughts,

Fairest, whom my fond heart chose,

How I worshipped thee, till Time

Did thy perfidy disclose! Good night, &c.

Never more shall thy caress,

Falsely tempting, fetter me,

Far from Pleasure's luring net,

Wiser than I was, I flee. Good night, &c.

And ye eyes, ye dazzling suns,

Ye that once enchained my soul,

I, a novice in deceit,

I have 'scaped your bright control. Good night, &c.

Freedom is my heritage,

Where my fancy leads, I rove:

Virtue's soothing balm will heal

Ev'ry wound of injured love. Good night, &c.

Born 1605, at Memel. Died 1659.

242

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HOURS IN HINDOSTAN.

A FAC SIMILE.

I HAD landed at Agra, and seen the wonderful Targe, (I always spell Hindostannee as it is pronounced,) with its splendid pillars inlaid with precious stones; though some persons profess to be sceptical on this subject, and boldly assert that the original rubies and emeralds have long since made place for coloured glass. I had visited the old man who has for twenty years lived (according to his son's account) inside the great gun which lies upon the beach. I had seen some of the wonderful tricks of a famous juggler who was exhibiting in this far-famed city. At length, tired of lionising, I walked out to pay my respects to Mr. L the government resident, one of the mildest and most gentlemanly men in British India.

What then must have been my surprise, as I walked up the principal staircase of his house, to hear a sudden scream of terror, and in the next moment to find a wretch fly past me with a fleetness which a sharp kick alone could have imparted to his motions; for the fugitive was evident ly a Chinese, (or, as we call them in Bengal, a Chinaman-one of a race who never hurry their movements save by compulsion,) and, on looking up, to perceive L. rush out after him, uttering a volley of the most violent execrations!

On seeing me, my usually quiet friend suddenly stopped, ashamed at being thus caught in this most undignified situation. I confess I could not help smiling.

'Halloa! Charley, what puts you in such a rage?-and whence comes the Chinaman? I did not know you had any of their race in these parts.'

'Confound them all!' replied the irritated civilian, trying to check his passion. He comes from Calcutta, and be hanged to him!' Who is he? What is he?'

painter-the rascal paints miniatures. I really have to apologise for this fit of passion; but-.' And he paused for a moment. I suppose you had some just cause for it?' said I. He hesitated. Come, tell me what it is all about."

L. reddened up as if ashamed. Upon my life, I believe I was wrong; but at the moment I could not help it. But, after all, it was a very foolish affair.’

"Come, then, let me have it.' So, while we were eating our tiffin, and smoking a chillum, he related to me the following facts.

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It appeared that the unhappy Chinese had travelled up from Calcutta, on speculation as a miniature-painter, and, when unsuccessful in this profession, had occasionally recurred to the never-failing of a Chinaman, the noble trades of shoemaking and tailoring; for by these two arts sewing and painting, every son of China in Bengal manages to live.

Tempted by his assurances of skill, L. had desired him to take his portrait, well knowing that at least he might count on his candour and accuracy; since he had often heard the story of the Englishman, who sending his coat as a model to a Chinese tailor in Calcutta, omitted to mention that the old habit had a patch in it. The consequence was

obvious; the new coat came home so thoroughly made in imitation of the pattern, that not only was it exactly the same size and form, but the same patch appeared upon it-the new vestment having had the piece carefully cut out, and sewed in precisely similar to the old one. But to return.

The artist went to work, and traced the lineaments of my friend (who, by the by, was as yellow as the effigy of our gracious sovereign on a guinea, and was awfully pitted with the small-pox.) He first drew the pencil-sketch, and showed it to L. who was greatly pleased with it, since he considered it a flattering likeness; and that was what he particularly wanted, as he intended to send it down to Calcutta to a young lady, on whom he had matrimonial designs. The painter, proud of his approbation, now began the colouring, and for some time went on well, both parties highly pleased.

On the second day, however, he produced a pair of compasses, which he almost every instant applied to the face of Charley, and as often to the portrait before him, which L. had agreed not to look at again till it was finished. The artist seemed well pleased with the work, and more careful and minute than ever. At length the touches of the compass became so frequent, that the civilian could not help asking the painter to what use he applied them. After reiterating the question once or twice, the Chinaman turned round, and with a look of triumphant knowledge, replied,

'I tell you, massa, I tell you; me measure little holes in massa's face, to put 'em in picture, massa.'

'Great heaven!' exclaimed the enraged European, as he started up, and proceeded forthwith to expel the Chinese, appearing almost to consider him as a football. The Chinaman was never again seen in Agra, and for a very excellent reason, I believe. My friend sent him money to be off as quickly as he could, and never to publish the story. He forgot, however, to include me in the promise.

RUNNING A MUCK.

ONE of the greatest objections to India is the almost certainty of every young man forming those liaisons which are not only dangerous in a moral point of view, but often destructive in our worldly career. Encouraged by example, shut out from the more refined society of European ladies, without a hope of marrying, and unchecked by the laws of society, the young soldier or civilian in India, stationed in some dreary spot, removed from the awe which the presence of virtuous females inspires, is apt to form a connection as revolting to European taste as opposed to every moral precept.

Mr. A- was unmarried, young, and handsome; he had won and carried off a lovely girl of sixteen (that is to say, if loveliness can be imagined with a dark skin.) He had lived with her about three years, and had by her two children, whom he in after-life acknowledged and cherished. In him the act was wrong; in her it was excusable, since the form of marriage, the mere thought of such a thing, had never entered her head; her very parents were proud of the honour done her; her rude ignorance blotted out the blame that would otherwise have attached to her: while the only excuse he could offer for the seduc

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