next; bot Leslie was no admirer of flirt-when the next moment acabriolet stop ing, and not at all disposed to conquer his ped at the door, it set her heart tremdislike in favour of Henry Mordaunt and bling, and her cheeks blushing in a very his "own Caroline." But to return- ominous manner. She heard him enter Leslie had displeased her about some trifle, the drawing-room, and calling up courage so she determined to vex him by receiv- and coolness to assist her, went to join ing, not unwillingly it would seem, the him. He was standing at a table reading flatteries and attentions of Mordaunt; this-oh! most unfortunate-a card from had been carried so far the night before, Henry Mordaunt, which he had, for the that when encouraged by her manner and first time, presumed that day to leave at glad of an opportunity to annoy Leslie, her door. Leslie laid it down on her enhe had asked her to waltz, she consented. trance. "Good evening Lady Caroline," This she knew was sufficient to annoy him said he, in the coldest possible tone. The at any time. What a pity love is so sel- lady returned the greeting with as cold a fish a passion! bow, she dared not trust her voice. There

As is usual in all cases, one wrong step was a short silence; the gentleman was led to another. In waltzing, Mordaunt evidently hesitating how to begin. He must, accidently of course, have press- made up his mind at last, however, and ed her arm, and in so doing unclasped taking great pains to speak in a calm steathe bracelet which she always wore. dy voice, which in very spite of him Leslie was standing looking on with a ve- would tremble a little, said:

ry composed countenance, and a very in- "I took the liberty of intruding at this dignant and angry heart, when the brace- hour, Lady Caroline Alton, as it is proba let fell near his feet; his first impulse was ble I may not have another opportunity to walk away, but he repressed it until he previous to my leaving England." deposited the ornament in his waistcoat The lady started almost from her seat, pocket, he then left the room, and Caro- but Leslie had been looking quite in a conline saw no more of him for the evening. trary direction, and when he heard the She returned home, intoxicated with flat- rustling of her dress, you might have tratery and proud of her new conquest, but ced a gleam of satisfaction on his face, with a vague, restless, uneasy feeling at but it disappeared instantly on his turning her heart. round and perceiving her playing with

The morning came, and with it visiters her dog which lay on the ottoman at her in plenty, but not him who was the most feet, and paying much greater attention regular, and, to tell the truth, the most to him than to the haughty gentleman opwelcome of all. She inquired, but no posite her. He resumed in a much firmer card had been left. She remembered pro- voice. mising Mordaunt the night before that she "Your conduct of last evening was would see him at the Opera that night, quite sufficient to convince me that I had and she was now hesitating whether or lost any little interest I once flattered my >not she would keep her promise, and won-self that I possessed over your heart; for dering how Charles Leslie would return had not that been the case, regard for ther bracelet, or whether it would be pro- my feelings, even had you none for your per for her to ask him for it. "It is nine own character, would have forbidden o'clock," she repeated to herself, "nine your very remarkable behaviour towards o'clock, and he has not been all day! I that puppy, that consummate fool, thatam sure there was not much harm in my that I beg your pardon, Madam, tor waltzing and singing duets with Mor-wards Mr. Henry Mordaunt. I have to daunt, and if there were, it was Charles' return also a trinket which you dropped fault; he certainly has a very bad temper. last night while waltzing."

How stupid of me," she continued, as her It is not an easy task to describe at maidagain reminded her of dressing, "how any time the various and rapid feelings of ridiculous of me to wait, he will be sure a human heart, and that heart a woman's not to come now, and it is of no conse- all we will say in the present case is, that quence to me if he does not come at all." indignation, surprise, sorrow and pride, But her heart east back the assertion, and were all busy with Lady Caroline, the

last mentioned gained the victory for the nearer to him, his arm encircled her waist time and she rose as he offered the brace-and- But is it not a most unfair in

1

let, cheek, neck and brow, were crim-trusion of ours, Gentle Reader? soned with passion, and she spoke fast will be guilty of the rudeness no longer: and thickly. suffice it, these two proud, indignant, an "Excuse me, sir, it is I who have to gry people, were the best friends in the return that trinket, and to express my re-world in five minutes, and after another get at ever having accepted it. The word or two about "that puppy Morfoolish professions made on both sides at daunt," it was all over.

the time of the gift, had better, nay, in-1 deed, shall be forgotten. I am glad my conduct of last night saves me the trouble of expressing my feelings, and congratulate you on your talent for reading manner so perfectly."

And well do vanished frowns enhance
The charm of every heightened glance,
And dearer seems each dawning smile
For having lost its dight awhile. -

of 'em.'

An Irish tailor who had made a gentleman a coat and waistcoat too small

Now, Charles Leslie had by no means In a late dispute on the subject of clicalculated on such a speech, and it had exactly the same effect upon him as his mate, an honest Irishman who was prehad previously had on the lady, that of sent, contended warmly in favour of his making him more angry, more indignant own country. In the first place,' said and more proud than ever; so, drawing he, the weather there is much finer; in on his white gloves in such a manner as the next place, we have a greater abundance of rain, and in the next place, the indicated that he really was in earnest, that is to say, at the expense of a fracture days are much longer. This however to one of them from top to bottom, he said a bye-stander, cannot be the case the whole year round. answered, "Such being the case, Madam Arrah, dear honey, but it is though; I will intrude on your valuable time no longer," and taking up his hat, and walk- and that is not all; the days are not only ing towards the door, he ended his visit longer, but faith, said he, there are more with the same words in which he commenced-" Good evening Lady Caroline!" -and disappeared. It is not to be supposed that Caroline had retained her composure without a severe struggle and now when there was no longer a necessity for had orders to take them home and let them it, now she was alone (alone, indeed! he out.-Some days after the gentleman inhad just gone, and forever!) she who had quiring for his garments, was told by the been all coldness and pride, and appeared Knight of the thimble, that as the coat as though she had never heard of such a happened to fit a countryman of his, he thing as a heart, was all tenderness and had let them out at eighteen pence a week. sorrow, and burying her face in the pillows of the sofa, she sobbed in intense grief. She had remained so for some A Gentleman mistaking a very small minutes, when a hand touched her shoulder; she started-trembled violently lady who was picking her way over a but dared not look up; she knew that he very dirty channel, for a young one, was beside her, and a witness to all her snatched her up in his arms and landed weakness. He had returned with the her safely on the other side, when she intention of telling her that he should indignantly turned up a face expressive leave England the following week, but of the anger of fifty winters, and dethat was forgotten; her conduct, her harsh manded why he dared to take such a lib. words and all were forgotten, for the erty. "O! I humbly beg your pardon, sake of those tears. He laid his hand on (said the gentleman,) I have only one her shoulder, a few low whispered words amends to make;" and he again caught were uttered of repentance and forgive-her up and placed her where he first found ness; she suffered herself to be drawn her."

MISTAKEN CIVILITY.

The Grave of the Year. Or to death's lonesome valley have gently descended And made their cold beds-with the grave of the year.

the year that so late, its new beauties disclosing, Rose bright on the happy, the careless, and gay

The following Poem under this title, we recommend to the special attention of our readers. We have ourselves perused it, with no ordinary sati'Tis faction. Among the many admirable productions, with which we have been favoured by the same esteemed author, we consider this as decidedly the Who now on their pillow of dust are reposing, best; and he who can read it, unmoved by the solemnity of its topics of the tenderness of its strains, must possess a kind of senssbility and taste which we can neither envy nor applaud. [N. Y. Com. Adv.

The Grave of the Year

LINES WRITTEN FOR THE THIRTY-FIRST OF
DECEMBER.

Be compos'd ev'ry toil, and each turbulent motion,
That encircles the heart in life's treacherous

anares;

And the hour that invites to the calm of devotion.
Undisturb'd by regrets-unencumber'd with cares.

How cheerless the late blooming face of creation!
Weary Time seems to pause in his rapid career,
And fatigued with the work of his own desolation,
Looks behind with a smile-on the grave of the
year.

Hark! the wind whistles rudely-the shadows are
closing

That enwrap his broad path in the mantle of night;

While pleasure's gay sons are in quiet reposing, Undismay'd at the wrecks that have number'd his flight,

From yon temple where Fashion's bright tapers are lighted,

Her vet'ries in crowds, deck'd with garlands appear;

And (as yet their warm hopes by no spectres affrighted)

Assemble to dance-round the grave of the year.

Where the sod presses damp on their bosons of
clay.

Then talk not of bliss, while her smile is expiring,
Disappointment still drowns it in misery's tear;
Reflect and be wise-for the day is retiring,
And to-morrow will dawn-ou the grave of a year.

Yet awhile and no seasons around us will flourish,
But Silence for each her dark mansions prepare,
Where beauty no longer her roses shall nourish,
Nor the lily o'erspread the wan cheek of despair.

But the eye shall with lustre unfading be brighten'd
When it wakes to true bliss in yon orient sphere;
By sun beams of splendor immortal enlighten'd
Which no more shall go down-on the grave of a
year.

MONTGARNIER.

TO A FRIEND IN THE EAST.

Oh! could I touch the lyre like Moore,
To sing of days that now are o'er
Or on Lord Byron's harp once try
To wake the chords of memory,
This strain sbould rise, whate'er iny lot,
When I am gone" forget me not."

Had I the painter's magic skill,
To draw sweet pictures at my will-
To paint those scenes that charmed our day,
When life was young, and we were gay,
Each pictur'd scene should hold that spot,...
Where echo cried-" forget me not."

Friend of my soul! by music's power
7hat charmed us in a happier hour-
By yon dark cliffs and walks of green,
Where thou and I have often been
By this gay world that soon is o'er,
Forget me not" I ask no more.

TERMS.

WILFRED.

Precedes my verse,

As undertakers walk before the hearse;

To what follows, being essentially dra the dialogues and conversations which matic, what name can I better prefix than occur in it, in the dramatic form. Althat of O'Keefe a man of more genuine though I do not hope to find it flourishing and original oddity and humour than any at the Victoria, or receiving the immortal writer of his time. The high flights of honors of the Olympic, it may, perhaps, George Colman the Younger, the gaieties in its present shape, be of use in private and pleasantries of Morton and Reynolds, theatres---the managements or mismanthe quaintness and raciness of Kenny, and agements of which establishments, James the voluminous playfulness of Thomas Smith, the all-accomplished, so well deDibdin, distinguished as they all are by scribes. I will, at all events, be brief in their peculiar claims upon the attention my prologue, which and patronage of the theatrical public of some half or a quarter of a century stand ing, are not so remarkable as the whim-and which merely proposes to observe, sicalities of O'Keefe. His inventive pow-that a certain middle-aged gentleman, of ers in the construction of odd phrases and the name of Meek, possessing an indepenquaint burdens for songs, his extraordina-dent fortune, with a somewhat delicate. ry combinations of strange fancies, and constitution, and therefore, perhaps, more the contrivance of a sort of significant a creature of habit than his healthier gibberish, without meaning in itself, but neighbours, had been blest for many years. fashioned so as to convey the most accu-with a faithful, careful, attentive, and exrate and vivid idea of what he himselfcellent domestic, who had, in fact, lived meant to express, are matters heyond the with him from his youth upwards-or rapowers of analysis; yet his farces are obther, as Mr. Meek found it, downwardssolete, and, with the drama of Foote, lost including a period of twenty-one years. to the stage and to the public, because the For the first seven of these years, popular taste has become so refined that James Grab-so was he called-had been it shrinks from broadness of humour and an excellent scrvant; for the next seven, a sharpness of wit, into the safe refuge af-considerate friend; and for the last seven forded by prancing horses, flying horses, a very hard master: and at the period this masked assassins, and simmering Jewess-tale of real life" begins, Mr. Meek, in the es. I make no apology, however, for quo-enjoyment of a competence, the society ting O'Keefe.. of a few fond relatives, and a most agree

have said that what follows is purely able circle of friends, had not a will of dramatic-it is of French construction-his own-James Grab was the ruling and so completely characterised by thea-power, the primum mobile. Meek was trical qualities, that I think it best to give no longer master of his house, or any

VOL. III. No. 10-1.

thing that was his; but he still went on, had a certain regard for honesty, and she feeling the importance of such a faithful, saw with disgust, which increased with confidential creature as Grab; and being his importunities, the manner in which he perfectly sati. fed that if he were to leave" ruled the roost " in her master's house. him, he should sink in the fathomless This perception on her part, led Mr. Grab ocean of society, and be lost to all eterni-to give her notice that her stay there ty. Of this feeling Grab was naturally would not be permanent, if she did not aware-he saw his influence, and exerted shut her eyes to what was going on, even it; to what extent, and with what effect, it she did not choose to open her ears to we shall presently see. his addresses, which I need not say were Mr. Meek's establishment-en garcon, of the most honourable character, but -consisted of this worthy,-literally mai- which made little effect upon her heart, tre-d'hotel,-cook, housemaid, coachman, which either was not hers to give, or and groom, and a sort of housekeeper, which she was resolved not to give him. -pert and pretty,-called, by Grab and In this state of affairs our little drama his master, Jenny, and by the rest of the opens, Meek coming out of his dressingservants, Mrs. Widgeon; and this corps room into his library, where his breakfast was so constantly changed by the man-is-mirabile dictu!-ready for him. He agement of Grab, who took in and turned enters, and begins the scene by calling out when he pleased and whom he pleas- loudly for Grab.

ed, that one administration scarcely lasted Grab. Well, sir-here I am-what's the entire, as first formed, more than a month. use of calling so loud.

These changes were matters of little mo- Meek. I-I'm sure I did n't call loud, ment to Meek-he heard of resignations Grab; it hurts my lungs.

and retirements, of negociations and ac- G. Then why don't you learn to be paceptances, but as Grab was premier, and tient, and wait till I come!

took the whole responsibility, Meek, whose M. I'm sure you do all you can to teach temper was proverbially excellent, taught me that virtue.

himself to believe that nobody but Grab G. Well, then it is no fault of mine if could serve him or keep matters together; you do not learn it.

that if he threw up his place he should be M. If you would have the bell of my wretched; and so he went on, living in the dressing-room mended, I need not be for dark, hoodwinked by the knave, who ced to call you at all.

made him believe that he was the most G. Yes that would be a good joke; popular man in the neighborhood, at the why, you'd be ringing for me every quar very same moment when he was most ter of an hour. I should not have a mi coarsely abused for suffering himself to be nute to myself.

led by the nose by such a consumate M. Don't I pay you for waiting upon cheat and hypocrite as Grab.

Mrs Widgeon was to Grab what the

me?

G. Why, yes, you pay me-but not to fighters call an "ugly customer," although kill me with over-work.

to anybody else she would have appeared M. Work! Why, Grab, you don't do a remarkably pretty one; she had a pair half the things I tell you to do.

of sparkling black eyes, a well-rounded

G. That is because you ask me to do

figure, curls like jet, and a forehead like too many by half. snow; she had been well educated, and M. Too many! was somewhat over-accomplished for her G. To be sure, sir; Lord bless your sphere in life. Grab had engaged her in heart, don't you think I know what you hopes of finding her gratitude for his pa- want a great deal better than you do tronage, take a more tender form in the yourself?

course of time; but six weeks' experience M. I do not think you do; why, here -and that, it must be confessed, is quite now, you never get my breakfast ready enough for such an experiment-had till an hour after the time I want it. taught him that all his hopes in that quar- G. That is to give you a better appetite ter were vain. Mrs. Widgeon, besides a and consequently more pleasure. dislike for Grab's personal forwardness, M. Ah! there it is-he is always right,