to be numerous. It is not impossible but that the government may be vested not in one, but in a body of men. In the meantime, public curiosity is awakened, the bugle is hung up, as in the fairy tale, at the dead king's gate, and whoever can blow it shall reign in his stead; if the achievement can be performed by none, then must the office go into commission.

It is idle to tell us that the world will ever grow tired of poetry, or that we have had so much of it of late that there is no occasion for any more for a long while to come. Because the hills and the plains were covered last summer with a thousand flowers, shall we welcome less joyfully the return of the sunny spring "with her kirtle of lilies around her glancing ?" — shall we hold in less estimation the unbought treasures of green and gold she scatters over the glorious earth? The affections of the heart, the delights of the senses, the perception of the beautiful, must cease,human nature must be changed the soul must be taken out, and the body left to walk on without it, before that species of composition which appeals to the feelings and the fancy, to the intellect and the judgment, will become uninteresting, and of little value. True, prose is the great staple commodity of life. True, also, the mind may be wearied out with poetry, and, for a time, may turn away from it, like the bee from the blossom, satiated

with sweets.

But not on these accounts will one

of the purest pleasures left to fallen humanity be resigned the pleasure which the peri experiences at the gates of paradise, catching glimpses of a brighter state of existence, and with the aid of imagination gradually inducing forgetfulness of personal exclusion.

Never while you live breathe with harshness a poet's name. If he has awakened one deeper feeling, one finer emotion, one nobler aspiration, he has not written in vain. Far distant he may shine, on the very verge of the horizon; but so did the sun itself when it first broke on the gloom of night. Let the pseudo-pretender to the name of minstrel be whipt back into his original obscurity; but if in his bosom there lurk one spark of the diviner essence, cherish it as the fire of an altar, which may yet kindle into a broad and purifying flame.

"By St. Agatha ! I believe there is something in the shape of a tear in those dark eyes of mine, about which the women rave so unmercifully," said the young Fitzclarence, as, after an absence of two years, he came once more in sight of his native village of Malhamdale. Standing upon the neighbouring heights, he watched the curling smoke coming up from the cottage chimneys in the clear blue sky of evening, whilst, a little farther off, the last beams of the setting sun were playing upon the western walls of his father's old baronial

be true to my engagement. Yes! though I myself become a martyr, I must obey the dictates of honor. Forgive me, Rosalind, heavenliest object of my adoration! Let not thy Fitzclarence"

Here his voice became again inarticulate; and as he winded down the hill, nothing was heard but the echoes of the multitudinous kisses he continued to lavish on the little brilliantly set portrait he held in his hands.

Next morning, Sir Meredith Appleby was in the midst of a very sumptuous breakfast (for, notwithstanding his gout, the baronet contrived to preserve his appetite), and the pretty Julia was presiding over the tea and coffee at the other end of the table, with the large long-eared spaniel sitting beside her, and ever and anon looking wistfully into her face, when a servant brought in, on a little silver tray, a letter for Sir Meredith. The old gentleman read it aloud; it was from the elder Fitzclarence :

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My dear friend, Alfred arrived last night. He and I will dine with you to day.

Fitzclarence."

Your's,

Julia's cheeks grew first as white as her brow, and then as red as her lips. As soon as breakfast was over, she retired to her own apartment, and thither we must, for once, take the liberty of following her.

She sat herself down before her mirror, and de

liberately took from her hair a very tasteful little knot of fictitious flowers, which she had fastened in it when she rose. One naturally expected that she was about to replace this ornament with something more splendid—a few jewels, perhaps; but she was not going to do any thing of the sort. She rang the bell her confidential attendant, Alice, answered the summons.

"La! Ma'am," said she, "what is the matter? You look as ill as my aunt Bridget."

"You have heard me talk of Alfred Fitzclarence, Alice, have you not?" said the lady, languidly, and at the same time slightly blushing.

"O! yes, Ma'am, I think I have. He was to have been married to you before he went to the wars."

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"He has returned, Alice, and he will break his heart if he finds I no longer love him. But he has been so long away; and Harry Dalton has been so constantly with me; and his tastes and mine are so congenial;—I am sure you know, Alice, I am not fickle, but how could I avoid it? Harry Dalton is so handsome, and so amiable !"

"To be sure, Ma'am, you had the best right to choose for yourself; and so Mr. Fitzclarence must just break his heart if he pleases, or else fight a desperate duel with Mr. Dalton with his swords and guns."

"O! Alice, you frighten me to death. There