Kate was right; with one or two exceptions, I was everywhere treated with respect instead of coolness or insolence.

"Mr. Bernard Orgreve," said one old man to me, “pay me when you can or when you like; if never, my grand-children will be none the worse for a few pounds. I knew your father all his life; he was an honorable man, and it was no fault of his if trouble came to him in his old age. I don't mind waiting for what he owed me, and I should be ashamed of myself if I doubted for a moment your father's son."

Another, whom I had known myself, and whose family I had attended, listened silently to my statement, and then said with a brusque manner which I should have thought unfeeling, had I not seen a strange moistness in his eyes :

"My good sir, I wonder what you think I am made of! Did you not save the life of my pretty little Nelly in that dreadful fever; and do you think I could look at her sweet, healthy, smiling face, and remember that your father's children were the poorer for my taking your money, even though he did legally owe it to me? Mr. Bernard, I won't have a penny of it; and to show you that I mean what I say, look here!"

He took my father's bond, and pushed it between the bars of the grate, making several fierce attacks at it with the poker until it was quite consumed. Then putting his hands in his pockets with a complacent smile, the worthy man added,

"Now this matter is ended, so come and see how well my Nelly looks, and let my wife give you a cup of tea.'

I went home with a full heart. "You spoke truly, dear Kate," said I, when I had told her the result of my mission, which brought many bright tears to her soft gray eyes, making them softer than ever; "the world is indeed full of goodness." "If we do but strive to deserve it, Bernard. How much do we not owe to our excellent father, whose virtues have brought a blessing on his children even when he is no more!" And Kate repeated in her low tones a rhyme from one of the grave, wise old English poets that she loved so much :

Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust.

times looking wistfully in the child's face until a flood of tears came to her relief; but more constantly her senses were wrapped in a dull torpor that was more sad than weeping. When Kate explained to her that she was to go and live with Bernard, she at first resolutely refused; but at last we succeeded in persuading her to consent. My kind partner found me a small house, and there we agreed should be the home of my mother and Dora. Miles would finish his school-term in a few months, and then we must think of something for him.

66

"But you, Kate," I asked, when we had decided all these things; you have said nothing of yourself; what are you thinking to do?—I can never part with you."

"It will be painful, Bernard, but there is no other chance. It is hard enough upon you to have the whole care of my mother and Dora, who are so helpless; I am the only one who can do anything; it is fitting that I should try."

"And what will you do, my poor Kate?"
"I will go out as a governess."

66

At first I vehemently opposed this plan, not through pride, for, alas! my pride had been sorely bowed, but because I could not bear to have my favorite sister subjected to the caprices of others, without a home or a brother to shield her. But Kate succeeded at last in persuading me that she was right. If I do meet with a little unkindness," she said, "you know I have a quiet spirit to make the best of it. I am not beautiful, and have some little dignity, I hope, so that I can take care of myself. And then, not being quite so proud as my elder brother, I shall not suffer so much if I should meet with a few slights. But I do truly believe that the treatment the world gives us depends much upon ourselves."

"And shall we never have a home together again, Kate?"

"Yes, if you get rich, or Dora marries, I will come and keep house for you, Bernard; that is, if you have not by that time a better and dearer housekeeper than your sister Kate."

I smiled, and the conversation ceased. Kate, having gained this point, set bravely to accomplish her end, and soon found a proffered home in a family to which even I could not bring an objection. We persuaded my mother to take Dora, and see And now we had to think of the future. Our that all was going on well in her future home. dear old home could be ours no longer; the factory, Imagining, or at least hoping, that her absence was house, and furniture must be sold, and Kate wisely but temporary, she departed, thus avoiding the pang thought that the sooner all was over the better. of a last farewell to the dear scene of her long and My poor mother clung helplessly and hopelessly to happy wedded life. When my mother was gone, her two elder children, suffering us to arrange all Kate and I were left alone to prepare for our deas we thought best. Her whole life and energies parture. Three busy days allowed us no time to nad been so wrapped up in my father, she had been think, for we had to arrange all preparatory to the so accustomed to look to him for support in every-sale. But for this, it would have been a mournful thing, that her mind, never of the highest order, thing to witness the havoc in our pretty home ;sunk powerless under the blow. She moved me- our dismantled nursery, our pleasant drawing-room, chanically about the house, arranging my father's full of so many silent remembrances, my father's papers and clothes, as if he were alive, and exam- books, Margaret's piano, and Herbert's easy-chair. ining her widow's weeds with a touching earnest- All were tokens that death and change had been She kept Dora, who was my father's pet, busy amongst us, and that we should be no more and very like him, constantly by her side, some- as we once had been, until we met

ness.

No wanderer lost,
A family in heaven!

"Now let us go," said she, as the fire sank to its last embers, and the chilly night began to be Kate and I sat mournfully at our last meal, the felt. And yet we lingered, walked through every night before the sale. We were both weary, and room, and were long in unfastening the hall door. an hour's rest was very welcome. We sat in my which closed upon us at last with a sound which father's study, the only room in the house that pre- rang mournfully through the half-empty dwelling. served a semblance of comfort. Yet it was carpet- We stood a few moments in the garden. The less, and the furniture was heaped carelessly to-old house rose clearly defined in the frosty moongether, except the two chairs which we occupied. Kate's hand trembled as she poured out the tea; she had been very calm all day, like a brave-hearted girl as she was, but she looked ill and worn, and there was a quivering on her lips at times, which showed how much she struggled for composure.

"I think we have done all that is to be done, Bernard," she said; "you have worked very hard, and I begin to feel tired myself. I am rather glad that we accepted Mrs. Woodward's offer for the night; the house looks so desolate." Kate's eyes glanced round the room until they became dim with tears, and I will confess that my own were far from seeing clearly.

light, and the fir-trees cast their dark shadows, as in our childish days, when we used to steal out to play at hide-and-seek on clear nights like this. Where were we all now? Two sleeping in the churchyard hard by, one far over the waters, the rest scattered; only Kate and I remained to bid adieu to our dear old home. With our hands fast clasped together, my sister and I stood long and mournfully, and then, as in that other time of deep sorrow, Kate's arm encircled my neck, and she wept in the bitterness of grief. At last we turned away, and quitted forever the home of our childhood.

There is that soft and tender air-the voice

Of her that was so meek, with eyes of light, Which touched the heart, yet bade it still rejoice

A gentle spirit clothed with holy might; It speaks to me again-c'en with affright

Thy well-known tones, my sister, now I hear, And the eye strains as it would burst the sight Through the dark folds of sense, and see thee near: In vain-poor, anxious orb-it melts into a tear.

And now a choir of voices float along,

Joy floweth free in an unmingled tide,
Nor love itself desires or hopes for aught beside.
The music changes-heaven's harps are ringing
Such holy measures, that e'er the thought is
still

Cherubic voices now their anthems singing,
That Music's soul itself these voices fill,
And every feeling moveth at their will:

Ah! there's that strain again—and now in

tears

The vision fades-I own 't was human skill, The sweetest sound the touch of sorrow wears, And Music still on earth, in Pilgrim's weeds ap pears.

From the Anglo-Saxon.

THE HORSE.

"We all have our hobbies."

NAY, ladies, forgive, though the truth be confessed,
A horse is the treasure we English love best.
You may sigh if you will, thought 't were better to
laugh,

For we'd rather be hunting than wooing by half!

From the far distance, softly stealing o'er me, Man scarce seems the noblest when placed by his

See, see where he stands in his beauty and pride!

As music o'er the waters, or the song
Which visits us in dreams so tenderly,
We think good angels make the harmony-
Are ye with sweet accord all singing now,
Once loved on earth,but now in heaven that be?
From streams of light, from banks where amaranths
blow,

Do ye come down to weep with those who weep
below?

And now methinks I'm carried far away,

As on the bosom of the summer air-
And strange, soft, spiritual lights around me
play,

And visions open of the bright and fair,
That now the wearied, wounded heart repair-
Oh, happy world! where love and peace
abide-

Oh, blessed ones! I see, I see you there!

side.

What strength in his limbs as he spurns the dull ground,

How bold his full eye as he glances around!— Stand, stand till I'm mounted!-now off where you will;

Over fence, ditch, or gate-I can stick to you stillDeep and wide flows the brook-stay! 't were nadness to do it!

One plunge and one snort-we are over-or through it!

Nay, frown not, fair dames, nature cannot be
changed;

It is useless to mutter—“ mad fool, or deranged!”
You must needs yield the palm, poor disconsolate

Mentors;

The horse is our better-half-English are centaurs!

send in old Wilmot and his daughter, my mother's maid. My brother and I went out upon the sunny lawn to play. He, rejoicing in the beauty of the day, soon forgot the scene we had witnessed, and called to me to join him in his gambols, while I, half puzzled at my father's and mother's distress, sat down under the shadow of some limes, heeding him not. His merry laugh, his bounding step however, were checked by Wilmot coming to us, and bidding us go round to the back of the house, where my mother could not hear our voices.

Where my mother could not hear our voices' She, whose life had seemed to depend on our lightest look or word, who had been chidden

one great event of my life cast all else into obliv-tenderly-but still chidden by my father, for her ion, for truly it brought an undying sorrow on our house, and caused my heart to "wax old as doth a garment" within my boyish breast.

Even now, mother, I see at times thy fair, thy gentle, and most loving face; I hear in my dreams thy low, sweet, earnest, voice, echoing like mournful music; and my father, with his high, proud brow, his beautiful but rare smile, is often at my side when I am alone and pondering on old times under the shadow of dark memories.

reluctance in allowing us to spend our mornings at Dr. Mitford's, the good rector's, for the purpose of receiving his instructions.

The peaceful period of my life was over; the next scene enacted in the drama of that life was a tragical one. My father, leaving my mother to the care of Wilmot and his daughter, was observed to dart through the open window of the oriel without his hat. My mother, after a long swoon, was borne to her bed, and when I next saw her she was a widow. My father had himself sought a

Sometimes he comes in another guise, and as watery grave in the small lake in the grounds at

I last saw him, but of this anon.

Some years ago, my mother, my father, my young brother and myself, were one morning assembled in the little oriel library at home, when the old butler brought in the letter-bag. My father had taken down a book, and my mother, leaning on his shoulder, was reading some sweet passages aloud. The bag lay, till she had ceased, upon the table, and then my father, handing me the key, desired me to open it.

“Let me, let me," said Harry, and I permitted

him to draw the letters forth.

I think I see my father lay his book hurriedly aside, and my mother bend anxiously over him, as he tears open one, the seal and edges of which proclaim it the herald of death's doings. Mother! mother! how pale you looked! what despair was painted in your countenance !

Whence arose all this sorrow I knew not; at the time I was scarcely capable of comprehending the nature of it, for, although twelve years of age, I had had no intimate associates but my brother; I had seen nothing of the world, beyond the boundaries of the village near which we lived.

In

I-spoiled boy as I was-I disobeyed him. the dusk of the summer's evening, I crept out of the very window through which my unhappy father had last passed alive, and making my way under cover of the shrubs that fringed the sloping lawn, I hurried to the lodge. Wilmot's caution against going there convinced me that my father had been carried thither, instead of being brought home, as we were informed by the servants he had been. There were lights streaming through the closed shutters of one window. I climbed over the little paling near it, and looked through a crevice into the apartment. Was it a vision that met my eyes? unaccustomed as they were to ought but the beautiful in this world; I could scarcely bear to look on what I saw. Was I in a dream? What was that cloud of white stretched forth upon two common deal tables placed together. There was the outline of a human form, there was the sound of lamentation in the narrow room, the lodge-keeper's wife mourning the dead thing laid there in its shroud.

The letter announced the death of my father's first cousin, and his only son they had perished off the Isle of Wight, while bathing; the father, it was supposed, in his endeavors to save his son, Wilmot himself was there arranging sconces had failed in the rescue, and was sacrificed himself. round the dull walls, and the number of chairs, My father was now, therefore, Earl of Wallingford: placed uniformly together, gave me some idea of he did not announce it to us, but I gathered it from an inquest having been held there. My first imhis conversation with my mother. I heard him pulse was to call Wilmot, but my tongue clove to bitterly regretting it; I saw her sit with her hands the roof of my mouth. I lingered long, spellrigidly clasped in agony before her; I saw her bound; and when I had seen the little room lips turn pale, her eyes close, and then she fell lighted I was about to retrace my steps, when I heavily down at her husband's feet. I can re-saw Wilmot raise the white covering from the member him, telling us to leave the room, and corpse.

I remember but my father's dead face, livid, disposition drove her into the arms of my fineyet so little distorted, as to bear the appearance tempered father, whose elegance of taste and reof being in a deep sleep; then a choking sensa- finement of feeling were strange contrasts to the tion in the throat arrested the scream on its pas- overbearing tyrant of her home; she had, in a mosage from my heart to my lips; and all was blank ment of misery, when a blow from her brutal hustill I found myself on a sofa in my mother's bed- band shivered the last slender links of duty and room. In spite of all her agony at my father's propriety into atoms, yielded to my father's pasloss, she had missed me. She would have me sionate entreaties that she would fly with him. brought to her. My young brother was there Before a divorce could be obtained, and a marriage Worn out with his bewildered sorrow, his toys lay idly scattered about the room, and he, with his arm stretched across me, his long curls sweeping my cold clammy face, lay fast asleep beside me. In that chamber of anguish and desolation he seemed the only link between heaven and my mother, for what was I now to her but a heavy curse?

too.

effected, I was born. They were united on the death of my mother's husband, and before the birth of my second brother; and as my father had the disposal of his own property, my position, as an illegitimate son, would perhaps never have been made known to me but for the event which gave my father the title and entailed estates of the Earldom of Wallingford.

She-poor, pale, haggard creature was sit- There sat I then looking out on the fair face ting up in her bed watching us. The good rec- of nature; the peace of the scene before me illtor, Doctor Mitford, sat by her with the Book of accorded with the turmoils raging at my heart; Comfort before him. Still she looked distracted. but some trifling circumstances, the sight of a All at once she broke into a passion of tears, and, pointer my father had been fond of, and an old weeping long and bitterly, became calmer at last, hunter, who had been permitted to spend his last relieved by this natural burst of anguish. It days in peaceful idleness, upset me. The groom awoke my young brother, who, flying to her, was taking them past the window, away from the mingled his tears with hers. Weak as I was, neighborhood of the lawn, fearing my mother scarcely certain of where I was, I insisted on should see them. At sight of these familiar obrising; and ere the sun set that night Doctor jects a shower of tears relieved me, and long Mitford explained to my brother and myself, as tenderly as he could, the cause of the late terrible

event.

I, the elder, was an outcast on the world with scarce any provision. I was a natural son! My younger brother was the heir to title, fortune, honors, power, and the distinction of a high name. I had no prospects; I, the first-born, was a curse to myself, my mother, and my self-murdered father. My young brother Harry was Earl of Wallingford, while I

after I had ceased to cry bitterly the tears still trickled silently down my cheeks. I know not how long I sat there, but I was roused from my sorrowful revery by perceiving my young brother at my side.

"See," said he, "I have brought you the new fishing-rod Doctor Mitford gave me on my birthday. You admired it so much that I am sure you will think it worth having, and I have filled my writing-desk, which is newer than yours, with pens and paper and sealing-wax, and here it is for I can remember when my brother was made to you, and my drawing-box. You shall have comprehend that he was rich and noble, and " that everything of mine. I will give all to you that I I was something despicable," for he soon gathered can. Brother! dear brother Edward! do not all this-that he was very unhappy. He who turn away your head, as if you were angry. You had never been separated from me, who had been cannot think how unhappy I am; this title they taught to respect my opinions even in our plays as talk so much about makes me wretched. How an elder brother's right-he, whose lessons had can that give me pleasure which has been the been lightened by my sharing them, whose pleas- cause of my father's death and my mother's misures had been mine, and who had been accustomed ery? Brother Edward," said the boy, looking to no other companion, could not bear to be thus up as if silently appealing to Heaven as a witness elevated while I was undeservedly cast down. of his vow, "I never will be Lord Wallingford as I, meanwhile, would not approach my mother. long as you live and are nameless. Something of sullenness there was in my temper- make me take up the title; I have asked Doctor ament on the evening succeeding Dr. Mitford's Mitford all about it; he wont give me any advice disclosure, as I sat at the oriel window looking at present, but tells me not to decide too hastily. out upon the lawn where I had spent so many un- I never shall change my resolution, unless, and clouded hours. My father's funeral was to take who knows but it may be so?-unless you gain a place on the following day. The verdict had been title for yourself." brought in " temporary insanity." God knows it was a correct one, for my unhappy father's brain must have been bewildered with the agony of despair when the consequences of sin burst on him and my wretched mother.

No one can

Poor child-little he knew of the worldly price set on such baubles. I answered him by flinging my arms round his neck, and Doctor Mitford found us mingling our tears together. Ah! from what a pure and consecrated fountain did those tears spring! My mother, too ill to bear the least excitement, never mentioned the subject,

ancholy had succeeded the first paroxysms of despair.

though we now saw her every day; a settled mel- | to the skin. I had five pounds in my pocket, and knew not whither to turn for advice or assistance. I had made my way up to town by a coach, on the top of which I had with difficulty obtained a seat, when I was some miles from home. The morning after my arrival, I removed to other quarters, fearing my mother would send in search of me to those inns where the coaches from our county put up.

My resolution was formed before my father's funeral was over; my only companion, besides my brother, had been a midshipman, a relation of Dr. Mitford. I determined on leaving home, and striving to carve out an honorable career for myself. I became at once a man in thought and deed. My brother's docile disposition resembled my mother's; mine had more of my father's sterner metal in it. He was brave, though his last act was one little indicative of it—but then the cause! the disgrace, not of himself but of his wife and his first-born! What marvel that he wanted courage to stand by and witness that!

"God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." Fortune favored me by throwing me in the way of Captain Melton, who had frequently dined at my father's, and whose son was the midshipman I have alluded to. Knowing him well as a man of kindness, generosity, and honor, I at once told him all the circumstances that had led to my present forlorn situation. He took me himself to one of the lords of the admiralty, Lord Islingford; he Never can I forget the last hour spent, as a bade me tell my own story. The nobleman's boy, under the roof to which I had been accus-lip twitched nervously, and his eye dimmed at my tomed from my infancy. My brother and I had narration. When he had heard me out, he gave always occupied the same room; our little beds me over to the care of Captain Melton, who had stood side by side, with the pictures of our pa- just got the command of a frigate. As I left him, rents hanging between them. Worn out with the the old lord laid his hand upon my head, and sorrows of the past week, Harry had gone to rest blessed me with a solemn voice and an expression before his usual time. He was sleeping peace- of pity. I never forgot that. fully, though a tear lay on his cheek. There lay the Earl of Wallingford-my younger brother! -while I, scarcely knowing by what name to call myself, looked up at my father's and my mother's picture with mingled feelings of pity and reproach. I had packed up a few clothes by degrees, and poor Harry's gift of the drawing-box (the smallest article) among them. I had resolved on getting to sea under the patronymic of FitzEdward. It was the only one to which I felt I had any right.

I pass over the last "good night!" exchanged between my mother and myself. A note found on my pillow, after my departure, explained all; it concluded in these words; "Rest assured, mother, that I will strive to be an honor to you yet. I leave you, in the hope that I, having chosen my own path, my beloved brother will assume his rights. Mother, and brother, God bless you! Farewell!"

I lingered by my brother's side; he was in deep repose; I knelt down by his bed, and implored God's blessing on his innocent head. Ah! now, as I refer to the past, I feel I can remember the long, long kiss imprinted on his smooth young brow. I remember, too, sitting down and scanning every nook and corner of our little chamber, and wondering if I should ever see them or Harry again; and, gazing long on his beautiful face, his free limbs, his bared arm-flung over his head, radiant with its golden curls-his child-like smile parting his bright lips, the sound of his breathing in his calm sleep; while I, little older than himself, was already old in irremediable sorrow and disgrace.

At eight o'clock the next night, I, who had been so tenderly nurtured, found myself in the coffee-room of a common inn in London, drenched

Opportunities offered for my distinguishing myself. Our ship was on the African station. Death and disease among my shipmates, gave me, in a short space of time, my promotion. The old lord bore me ever in his mind. My rise to a lieutenancy was a complete puzzle to those who did not know my history, and shortly afterwards I was removed from the frigate Captain Melton had commanded-for he was now an admiral—to the flag-ship on the Cape station. It was not long before I was placed in command of a brig of war, and sent to the western side of Africa.

My

It were ill done to recite my "perils by sea and land" on and off that coast, "the grave of Europeans." Despair had made me brave. The resolution to "do or die" was indomitable. officers and men were, in verity, the "bravest of the brave." Strong iron fellows, selected from crews who had served principally in this part of the Atlantic, and were therefore well-inured to the climate and their work. Prize after prize we took into the different bays of the Cape; my little dark brig soon obtained the name of "The Pirate's Terror ;" and, at two-and-twenty, I was again in England, having earned a fair fortune in prizemoney, and, what was better, a distinguished name.

My brother, meanwhile, had been true to his first resolution; love for his mother and myself had confirmed it. He was now, however, fast approaching his majority, and I thought it likely that the assumption of the Wallingford estates would lead to that of the title. I wished indeed it might. I did not write at once to make inquiries. I dreaded a reply. I was terrified lest it should announce my mother's death. Lord Islingford had directed that I should lose no time in vis