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to where Maitland was standing. With a nervous grasp, he clutched the papers; but at the same moment Colonel Trevylyan sprang forward and seized his arm.

"Back, sir!" said Maitland, in a tone of stern indignation, before which the practised effrontery of the hardened reprobate seemed for an instant to quail. But the pause was only a momentary one. The rage of Trevylyan, at seeing the prize elude him almost at the instant it seemed within his reach, got the better of his discretion. He attempted to wrest the packet from the hand which contained it; but Maitland, seizing him by the collar, hurled him to the door.

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Enough!" he said, pointing to the couch on which lay the panting victim of his treachery. This is no place for scenes of violence. Beware!"

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Slowly did the countenance of the Colonel, which was livid with evil passions, resume its composure. At length he said, slowly and in measured accents, "Those papers are my property. In this place I seek no quarrel. Restore them, and I forget all that has taken place,-retain them, and you abide by the consequences."

"I prefer the latter alternative," replied Maitland, as he placed the packet in his breast, and carefully buttoned his coat over it. "Then I wish you a very good morning ;" and with an evil smile, Colonel Trevylyan opened the door, and strode down stairs.

Relieved by his absence, the attention of Maitland was once more turned to the unhappy girl, whom he vainly endeavoured to console and reassure. But his efforts were all fruitless. One fainting fit followed upon another. A doctor was at last sent for; who had no sooner seen the patient than he ordered her at once to bed, with strict directions that she should be kept in perfect quiet.

Scarcely had Charles Maitland reached his lodgings, and having deposited the packet in a place of safety, was endeavouring to compose himself after the painful scene he had just witnessed, when a loud knock was heard at the door, and his servant made his appearance, with a card, to say that a gentleman wished to speak with him immediately on urgent business.

"Show the gentleman up, and bring lights at once."

In a few minutes a tall man, having a military air, and dressed in the extreme of the fashion, was ushered in. He bowed with grave politeness as Maitland, rising to receive him, inquired to what he was indebted for the honour of his visit: "I am come to you on behalf of Colonel Trevylyan," was the reply. "With what object?"

"Oh, merely to request you will be so good as to refer me to some friend, who will act on your behalf, in this painful business which has arisen between you.” "Are you in possession of the facts?" "In full possession of all the facts," was the prompt reply.

"And you are of opinion it is a case of that description which will justify Colonel Trevylyan in the course he now adopts?"

Certainly. When a blow has passed, there is no alternative."

"Very well. I shall give you a note to Captain Wenham, whom you will probably find at the Guards' Club about this hour." And having penned the necessary communication, Maitland rang the bell.

His visitor rose, and making a ceremonious obeisance, withdrew to the door.

"I should, perhaps, have mentioned," he said, as he turned the handle slowly round, "that in case you give up certain letters of Colonel Trevylyan's, he will be contented with an apology."

"I have already given you my only answer."

"Very well. Then I have the honour to wish you a very good morning;" and smiling ominously upon Maitland, the visitor made his exit.

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A MITHER'S BLETHER ABOUT HER BAIRN. THAT Wean o' mine 'll drive me daft,

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I solemnly declare;

If I had bedlam in the house,

It couldna plague me mair.

He waukens up at skreich o' day,

Then rest wi' him there's nane,

But rumblin', tumblin', up an' down-
It's no a common wean!

He's never out o' mischief, an'

He never seems to tire;
See! there he's on the fender's edge;
He'll tumble in the fire!

He's at the door now! catch him, or
He'll whomle down the stair;
He's got the puir cat now, the wretch
Is ruggin' out its hair.

Losh! now he's got his faither's book
Wide open on his knee,
And just observe the solemn look
That's in his bonnie e'e.

He canna read, yet looks as grave

As chiel in gown and bawn;

But mair than he looks wise on things
They dinna understan'.

An unco wean; yet flyte on him,
He only laughs an' craws,

Like his faither when he's teasing me;
An' when I tak' the taws

An' gie'm a skelp, I'm vexed, an' wish
I'd let the bairn alane,

For he looks sae strange-like in my face,
I couldna do't again.

Gude keep us a'! the bairn's asleep,

His wee head on his arm;

Now, wha could look in that sweet face
An' think o' doin't harm,
Although it's fashous whyles?-eh me!
His wee cheek's like the rose,
Or the crimson on the far hill-tap
When gloamin's gaun to close.

Sleep sound, wee pet! ye're but a type
O' busy warldly man,

Whose hands are thrang, whose head is fu'
Wi' mony a scheme an' plan;
He rests na day nor night, until

His bustlin' life is past,

An' sleep-Death's sleep-upon him creeps, As on my bairn at last.

LIFE AND DEATH.

BY WORDSWORTH.

HAST thou seen, with flash incessant,
Bubbles gliding under ice,

Bodied forth and evanescent,

No one knows by what device?

Such are thoughts! A wind-swept meadow Mimicking a troubled sea,

Such is life; and death a shadow

From the rock Eternity!

THE WORKER TO THE DREAMER.

FLING away thy idle fancies,

They but weaken heart and brain,-
Break the pleasant dreamy fetters
Of romance's shining chain.

Come out from the misty kingdom-
Thou hast lingered there too long.
Come out girded as for battle,
Armour true, and spirit strong.

Sit no longer by the waters-
Hearkening to their murmurs sweet-
Up! while yet the morning shineth-
Then go forth with earnest feet!
Cast away thy idle dreamings;
Work with ardour, willing, brave,
For, oh dreamer! life is action;
And to act,-a duty grave.

Steep and rugged is the mountain,
Yet the faithful toilers say,
When they gain its hallow'd summit,
"Blessed was our weary way."

So to thee, when thou hast battled
Bravely, nobly, for the right-
Will thy labour, though a burden,

Seem, with sweet content, but light.

Truth and error wage a warfare,

Constant in this world of ours; We have need of champions fearlessCome from dreamland's rosy bowers! Cast away thy idle fancies;

They will cumber thee in life, Be henceforth a warrior mightyEarnest in a glorious strife!

DON'T LOOK ON THE DARK SIDE. DON'T look on the dark side! Turn over the leafSee a beautiful picture awaits you. Why study with care the pale outlines of grief, When life-tinted hope may elate you?

Don't look on the dark side! Your sadness and gloom

Will spread like a pestilence round you; Such moping is selfish; give cheerfulness roomLet the balm of its atmosphere bound you.

Don't look on the dark side! There's brightness enough

In the world, if you only but view it : To fret is ungrateful; your way may be rough, But complaining, with briers will strew it.

Don't look on the dark side! Or, if 'tis all dark, If night and a storm both are given; Remember, though clouds veil each luminous spark,

The stars are yet shining in Heaven!..

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The time required is 313 weeks, or 6 years, one of which is leap-year.

GEOGRAPHICAL PARADOXES-1. The two places must be directly under the two poles; for to the north pole the sun rises about the 21st of March, and does not set till the 23rd of September: and the ensuing twilight continues till the sun is 18 degrees below the horizon-. e., till about the 13th of November; then dark night continues till about the 29th of January, at which time day. break commences, and the morning twilight continues till sunrise on the 21st of March. Hence, between sunrise and sunset, 6 months elapse, between day-break and the end of twilight about 288 days, but total darkness continues only 77 days. N.B. When the sun rises to the north pole, he sets to the south, et contra; and because he rises but once and sets but once in the year, there can be but one day and one night during the whole year.-2. If by neither day nor night is meant twilight, the places may be in any part of the Frigid Zones. But if we are to understand that the sun neither rises nor sets for 24 hours, the places must be 90 degrees from the sun. Thus, if the sun be in the equator, then the places are directly under the poles; for, at those times, the sun circuits about their horizon for 24 hours, half above and half below it; hence, during that time, it is there neither day nor night.-3. Directly under the south pole; which has not only the least, but the greatest, and all intermediate degrees of longitude, since they all meet in the poles. Or thus: all places that lie under the first meridian have both the greatest and least degree of longitude; for when the utmost extent of longitude ends, its least denomination begins.*— 4. Suppose one place to lie directly under either of the poles, a second 10 degrees on this side, and a third 20 degrees on the other, under the same meridian circle, then they will all differ in latitude, and likewise in longitude, since the pole contains all degrees of longitude.-5. In some high latitude, about the longest day: when the time from sunrise to sunset amounts to several months.

This only refers to the old way of reckoning the longitude; it is now made to end at 180 degrees both ways.

OUR FAMILY COUNCIL.

WE had intended, with this number of the Family Friend, to present our fair readers with the first "Fly-leaf for the Work-Table," announced in our last; but owing to some defect in the printing machinery, by which we could not obtain copies sufficient to supply our numerous friends, we are compelled to postpone its distribution for a fortnight. To compensate for this disappointment, we have issued another number of the "Serf's Daughter," which will be given, gratis, to all Subscribers of the Family Friend.

"I AM the youngest of four sisters, and all of us, owing to circumstances, are self-educated. As we frequently go into society, will you tell us how we may make ourselves agreeable?" ELLEN T. thus invokes our friendly advice, and right willingly we respond, for

"A young maiden's heart

Is a rich soil, wherein lie many germs
Hid by the cunning hand of nature, there
To put forth blossoms in their fittest season."

We will recommend our young reader, if she does not already possess a copy of Catherine Talbot's valuable Miscellanies, to procure one, and she will there find, amidst a cluster of those gems which adorn the female character with especial grace, the following excellent observations:"Let but your whole behaviour flow uniformly from one fixed principle of duty, and you may always be secure. Be, therefore, equally affable to all kinds of people; study to please even those who are far from pleasing you; make yourself agreeable to those whose praise you are sure you do not seek; study to oblige the heavy, the low, the tedious; and in whatever company you are, never aim at what is called shining. Do all this, and you may very allowably strive to please in agreeable company too; and may be satisfied that you act from sociable good humour, and not from vanity."

A "SIREN," not one of the family so celebrated by Homer in his Odyssey, but a rational, matter of fact inquirer, wishes to have some particulars regarding the human voice, and its changes in age. We may inform her that there are seven distinguishing characters of voice in men and women. In men, they are termed bass, baritone, tenor-robusto, or full-tenor, and tenor-legiardo, or counter-tenor. Those of women are termed contralto, mezzo-soprano, and soprano. The compass will be found to vary according to the length of the vocal chords and windpipe, the longest possessing the power of producing the greatest number of notes. Thus, one voice may comprise a range of twelve notes, and another of

sixteen, and yet both may be of the same character. The change which occurs in the voice in the decline of life is the result of the ossification of the cartilages of the larinx, and the hardening of its ligaments, which produce a hard and cracked sound.

MARY ANN C. has a natural disrelish for adulterated food, and desires to know how alum or earthy matters may be detected in bread. The presence of alum may be recognised by macerating a suspected portion for about two hours, in distilled water, by which the whole of the salts is removed, and obtained in solution. The solution should then be made to run through filtering paper, which retains the bread, and the clear solution is to be tested with those re-agents which indicate the presence of alum, or its constituent parts, namely, muriate of barytes for sulphuric acid, and ammonia for the alumina.

"What," writes GEORGIANA W., "is the origin of the belief that the Robin and the Wren undertake the office of covering dead bodies with moss or leaves ?"

We cannot tell our fair inquirer more than that this lovely tradition is of ancient date. It is alluded to by Shakspere; and Drayton says:"Covering with moss the dead's unclosed eye, The little redbreast teacheth charitie." Webster mentions the wren and the robin as coadjutors in this office

"Call for the robin redbreast and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men." Probably our correspondent received the sugges◄ tion from that delightful story of our childhood, "The Babes in the Wood."

"And when they were dead,
The robins so red

Brought strawberry leaves,
And over them spread;

And all the day long

They sang them this song'Poor babes in the wood!'"

GEORGE LINTON, who evidently takes a lively interest in the welfare of the female race, sends us the following paragraph from an American newspaper, the Boston Olive Branch, on which young women are employed as compositors. "Our rooms, "it states, " are well carpeted, and the girls do not come till nine or ten o'clock in the morning, retiring in good season, seldom making even seven or eight hours a-day. Smart compositors can, in that time, earn from six dollars to eight dollars a-week. We have also one female clerk out of the three we employ. Added to this, one desk has been occupied by a female editor as our assistant, at a salary of 900 dollars. She has spent seven hours a-day in the office for five days in the week. We generally have in our office an organ and a pianoforte, and we have music at the

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meal hours, when the ladies feel to like playing." "Why," adds Mr. George Linton, with a closing burst of enthusiasm, "why do not the females of England follow such an example?" Simply, we opine, because Englishwomen are more inclined to the quiet performance of household duties, than those of their sex whose occupations, as thus stated, proclaim them to be of "sterner mould," and because Englishmen could hardly reconcile with the chivalry of manhood, the encouragement of such laborious pursuits in those who are 66 unapt to toil and trouble in the world."

"But," Mr. Linton may urge, "many of our country women toil more severely than the American lady-compositors." Granted; but because an evil exists there is no reason that it should be perpetuated. There are constant ameliorations in the nature of female employments, and we trust in the good sense of the country for a continued improvement in this respect. We would like always to see woman in her proper sphere of action, the delight of home, the oracle of all the social virtues, not the victim of employments illsuited to her tender frame; the

"Fairest of creation, last and best

Of all God's works, creature in whom excell'd
Whatever can to sight or thought be formed,
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet."

"How can I procure a situation in a Government office?" is the moderate request of H. J. S. As we are not initiated into the mysteries of bureaucracy, we can scarcely give an opinion; but H. J. S. had better, perhaps, obtain an introduction to some persons already belonging to one or more of the Government offices, and ascertain through them which places are the most desirable, and when vacancies have occurred, in 'order to apply for them; and all we can add is, that if our correspondent's deserts be equally good as his handwriting, he has our best wishes for his

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Why make a virtue of necessity, and like the famous William Duprat, Bishop of Clermont, cut it off.

"And pray how did this happen?"

Why, this ecclesiastic had cherished for years a ull and flowing beard, which he highly valued. When the period of his induction into the bishopric of Clermont had arrived, he went in state to take . possession of his cathedral, but found to his as

tonishment that the gates of the chancel were closed against him; and through the lattice-work he perceived three members of the chapter waiting to receive him in a manner not the most gratify. ing to his dignity. One of the trio held in his hand a razor, another a pair of scissors, and a third the book of statutes of the church of Clermont, opened at these words, "de barbis rasis." The bishop remonstrated, but to no purpose. The only answer returned to him by the canons was, "be shaved or stay out."

Several of our friends desire us to recommend depilatory powders and lotions for the removal of superfluous hair from the face. We cannot, however, depart from our general practice of abstain. ing from advice in such cases; for most of the remedies advertised are inefficacious, and are also frequently highly injurious. They can only aet by chemically destroying so much of the hair as is protruded beyond the surface of the skin, That which is still within the tube of the bulb, and the bulb itself, is unaffected by them, unless their action is very violent; and, of course, to a greater or less degree, they are, from this circumstance, dangerous. The consequence is, it soon reappears. These preparations also, besides containing quicklime and other simply acrid substances, often have arsenic in their composition, rendering them, in addition to their harshness of action, and liability to do local mischief, or engender disease in the part, apt to cause constitutional trouble.

"But how, then, are we to remove these blemishes?" some correspondent may inquire.

First, consider well whether they really are defects. A reference to others, will show that very often certain peculiarities harmonize well with the general style of feature, complexion, &c., so that, instead of being detrimental, they are even effective in producing an agreeable ensemble. "But, Mr. Editor, you cannot call this beauty?" Beauty, my dear madam, is very difficult to be understood; indeed some one has said:

"True beauty never was defined;
And features, painted to the mind,
Are perfect only to the blind,

Who never scan the image o'er."

Perhaps you remember the story of the painter who, desirous of producing with his brush a faultless female face, selected for his models the most striking individual features he could obtain-the eyes from one, the nose from another, the mouth from a third, and so forth; but the portrait, when

finished, was sadly deficient in every trace of beauty. But secondly, to the point: if you are not satisfied with what you may think an imperfection, perhaps the best remedy is the use of tweezers; and, with diligence and patience, the hair may be got rid of for a longer time than by any other means.

In our next Family Council, we shall give answers received from various correspondents to the questions proposed in our last.

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