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year, at all events, would soon pass away, had thought of providing against such a and I had already settled how delightful a casualty: nobody requires parasols at ten country villa I would procure, and how o'clock at night, and who would think of stylish a curricle I would drive, when I conveying an umbrella to an assignation? became a happy Benedict. The guardian, The feathers in Miss Hartopp's hat began Mr. Crofton, had a country house at Rich- gradually to droop and bend, and the bows mond, and removed thither with his ward of ribbon in Davison's straw bonnet assumed in the middle of May. The day after their a sympathetic depression; no lover appeardeparture, I received a note from a friend ed on the walk, but in his stead came severesiding at the same place, asking me to ral large frogs, visitants for whom both dine with him on the ensuing Thursday. I mistress and maid felt the most unqualified accepted the invitation, determined to quit terror and detestation. After waiting half him at an early hour, and wrote to Miss an hour longer, they returned home, cold, Hartopp, under cover to Davison, the Abi-wet, and desponding, Davison entertaining gail, imploring her, at ten o'clock on the ensuing Thursday evening, to contrive to meet me on a smooth grass walk upon which the garden-gate of her guardian opened. She returned a favorable answer to me, assuring me that she would meet me on the appointed evening, and I considered my fortune made for life. Now, one of the atrocities of my handwriting was, that I always wrote Thursday in a way that looked exactly like Tuesday, and this mistake led to the events afterwards detailed to me by Davison, and which I will immediately lay before my readers.

At ten o'clock on Tuesday night, Miss Hartopp, accompanied by the faithful Davison, stole down the garden, unlocked the gate, and emerged on the grass walk, which happened to be exceedingly damp and dewy. Poets are accused of telling many untruths; they never tell more than when they write about the delightful month of May. Its bright warm mornings and soft balmy evenings are generally visions of the imagination. May is, no doubt, very charming in Italy; but in England, I constantly associate an evening ramble in that month with a tooth-ache and a flannel wrapper!

the belief that I had fallen into the river, and been drowned for want of assistance; and Miss Hartopp leaning to the opinion that James Crofton had way-laid and murdered me.

The next morning Miss Hartopp had a severe cold, and was not able to leave her bed till the middle of the day; she found her guardian's son, who had just arrived from London, alone in the drawing-room. Her first impulse was to shrink from him in horror; her second to elicit confession from him by a sudden question, or at all events to entrap him into some sort of demonstration of his guilt; she entered the room, leaning on Davison's arm, and kept tight hold of her, that she might cite her hereafter as a witness in a court of justice.

"When did you see William Seyton last?" interrogated the heiress in a deep tone.

"Last night," replied young Crofton, very readily.

"At what hour?" pursued Miss Hartopp, fixing her eyes on him with searching earnestness.

"About half-past nine," returned the supposed assassin.

"How guilt betrays itself!" mentally moralized the heiress.


The wind blew coldly; Miss Hartopp was picturesquely arrayed after the fashion of Lucy Bertram, in the opera of Guy Man- "Name the spot on which you encounnering, in a hat and feathers, and a floating tered him," she continued, in a Siddonian scarf; she arrived at the spot just two min-accent. utes after the clock had struck ten, and My dear Anne," said the young man, fully expected to find me in waiting for her. looking up with some surprise, "do you She was doomed, however, to be disap-imagine that I have been fighting a duel pointed; and wrapping her scarf closely with Seyton ?" round her, paced up and down the green walk as rapidly as she could, hoping to warm herself by exercise; but alas! at every turn, the thick dew of the grass saturated more thoroughly the sole of her delicate satin slipper. It was now a quarter past ten, and a small drizzling rain began to fall; neither Miss Hartopp nor Davison

No, I do not," she answered in measured and mysterious tones.

"I will give you every particular of our interview most willingly," said James Crofton. "Yesterday evening I was caught in a shower of rain in the Strand; and as at that moment I rested my eyes on a bill announcing that a celebrated conjurer (or il

lusionist, I believe, is the fashionable term) | in the world would have unanimously decidwas exhibiting his trickeries, I was tempted ed to be an unquestionable Tuesday, and to walk in, principally to procure shelter, enclosed it to me in a blank cover with the but was really very well amused. I had word scored under! A month afterwards not been long there when Seyton arrived, she was Mrs. James Crofton. and took a vacant place by my side; he told me, that having an idle evening on his hands, he thought that he would come and see if he could penetrate into the mysteries of legerdemain ; we conversed together very amicably and pleasantly, and even held a piece of tape between us, which the man of magic, after cutting through the middle, succeeded in re-uniting. I never saw Seyton in better spirits; and I assure you that I neither said nor did any thing to depress them."

The frank good-natured openness of the young man carried conviction with it: Miss Hartopp's fear was converted into indignation; in her " mind's eye" she saw on one side her own blighted hopes, slighted affections, ruined feathers, and soaked slippers; and on the other the conjuror, the crowded audience, and the laughing false one who had so cruelly sported with her feelings.

"I do not take the slightest interest in Mr. Seyton," she said, tossing her head; "I think him the least agreeable young man I ever saw in my life."`

"Not quite so bad as that," said James Crofton, smiling with infinite delight; "but upon my word, you show great judgment in your opinion of him; he is not at all deserving of the attention of so fair a lady." "Davison, you may go," said Miss Hartopp, sinking languidly on a sofa.

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The conversation between the young people lasted for an hour; when Mr. Crofton entered the drawing-room, his handsome son advanced to meet him, looking, as the Persians say, as brilliant as the sun, and as placid as the moon ;" and Miss Hartopp ran up stairs, and communicated to Davison that she had just accepted James Crofton. Davison instantly wrote to me an account of the affair; she put her letter in the post that evening, and it reached me on Thursday, in sufficient time to prevent me from feeling any inclination to go and dine with my friend at Richmond.

Two years elapsed before I fell in love again. Emily Brooks was, like my first love, an orphan, but she was three-andtwenty, and emancipated from the control of guardians; her fortune was ten thousand pounds, and she resided with a family of friends in a country town, where I first became acquainted with her while staying on a visit in the neighborhood. She received my attentions favorably. Mr. and Mrs. Williamson, her friends, had fortunately no unmarried son; and although the young doctor of the town was evidently much smitten with herself or her ten thousand pounds, she decidedly gave the preference to me.

I was suddenly called up to London on business, but promised to return in a fortnight. I felt anxious to write to Emily, but was afraid she would deem it a liberty; fortunately, however, she was a subscriber to a public charity, and I resolved to write to her to solicit her vote for a protégé of my friend George Gordon's. I bought some beautiful French paper and a box of silver wafers for the purpose: took a newlymade pen, and achieved a much more decently written letter than usual. Before I put it in the post, I resolved to call on Emily's uncle, Mr. Drewett, a wealthy merchant in the city, with whom I had some acquaintance. I met him, however, in St. Paul's Churchyard; he stopped and accosted me in a very friendly manner, and was evidently in high spirits.

Mr. Drewett was one of those men who seem born to good luck; he had a handsome wife, pretty children, pleasant friends, and a flourishing business; he had only one ungratified wish, and this he had for years had sense enough to bury in his own bosom, and never revealed it to any one till the time of its fulfilment. That time had now come,-Mr. Drewett was a baronet,-and when he informed me of his new honors, I was quite delighted to think that I wrote to Miss Hartopp under cover to I should be able to send the news to Emily, Davison, explaining the circumstances, and who was much attached to her uncle. Be(forgetting for the time my bad writing) fore I reached home, I met at least a dozen imploring her to refer to my letter, when people, all of whom had seen the new baroshe would find that I had requested her to net that morning, and been informed by meet me two evenings later than the one him of his dignities: and, with the excepwhich she had concluded me to name. She tion of a few sarcastic inuendoes respecting did refer to my letter, found what any jury" the restless ambition of some people,"

they really bore it better than people generally bear the good fortune of a neighbor.

Just then the young doctor hastened into the room on the wings of love, having preI found that I was later than I imagined, ferred trusting to his own speed, rather and had scarcely time to save the post, con- than wait till an elderly, wheezing, raggedsequently I only added in a postscript-looking horse, who could not walk half so "have you heard of the baronetcy of your fast as himself, was harnessed to his gig. uncle Drewett? it has created quite a sen- He entered the room while Mrs. Williamsation in the city;" and remembering son was expressing her fears that Mr. George Gordon's remark that it was impos- Drewett must have been very speculative sible to distinguish my a's from my u's, I and improvident, and a few questions put took especial care, for the first time in my him in possession of the facts of the case. life, that the a following the b in baronetcy should be exceedingly distinct and clear.

French emigrants bore their misfortunes, and instanced the case of a fascinating countess in particular, who had been reduced from a magnificent château at Versailles, to live upon fifteen pounds a-year in an attic in St. Martin's Lane, and was always the life of every society in which she moved!

"Miss Brooks must not agitate herself," he said, "nothing is so bad for the health I will now, as I did on a former occasion, as depression of the spirits." acquaint my reader immediately with cir- Mrs. Williamson rejoined that it was excumstances that only came to my own know-tremely wrong in any one to suffer their ledge at a subsequent period. Emily re- spirits to be depressed, related some anecceived and read my communication; the dotes of the cheerfulness with which the substance of a lady's letter is said to be contained in the postscript; how truly did that observation apply in the present instance to the postscript of a gentleman! What was the horror of Emily to read an inquiry whether she had heard of the bankruptcy of her uncle Drewett! She gave one loud shriek, which brought the whole house to her assistance, and then went into Just then the young doctor jumped up, violent hysterics. Lest Emily's sensibility vehemently struck his forehead, and deshould be thought by my readers to be clared he had that moment remembered rather greater than the occasion demanded, that Mrs. Goodwin, who lived five miles off, I will explain to them the reason which and was the most anxious nervous mother made her peculiarly sensitive in regard to in the world, had feared the day before that the commercial prosperity of her uncle. her six children were sickening with scarWhen she came of age, she took possession latina, and, no doubt, was accusing him of of her property of ten thousand pounds, but great neglect and unkindness in not calling on consulting Mr. Drewett respecting the to inquire after them; therefore, as his permanent investment of it, he advised her friend Miss Brooks was doing so exceedto intrust it to him to employ in his busi-ingly well, he must run home without delay, ness, promising to pay her much better in- and order his horse to be harnessed. terest than she would gain in the funds; the ruin of her uncle, therefore, involved her own. Mrs. Williamson called for burnt feathers, hartshorn, and eau de cologne, sent for the young doctor, and then took up the letter, no doubt imputing the hysterics of her young friend to a disappointment in love. She found, however, that the case Poor Emily was completely overcome by was much worse than she had surmised; the coolness and nonchalance of her friends, Emily had confided to her, (and through who, although born and bred in a little her means the whole town had become third-rate country-town, exhibited, it must aware of it,) that she had placed her for- be admitted, all the worldliness of St. tune in the hands of her uncle, and when James's; she requested that a postchaise the poor girl revived to consciousness, she might be immediately sent for, as she was found her affectionate friend sitting by her anxious to go to London, and mingle her with the letter in her hand, and kindly ad- tears with those of her uncle and his family. vising her not to give way so, but to re- Mrs. Williamson paused for a moment, but member that she had received an excellent remembering that Emily had asked for education, and that it was no disgrace to change for a twenty-pound note the day any body to earn their own maintenance !" before, and that her quarter's board was JULY, 1844.



cordingly he disappeared, not having, as was his wont, ordered three pale pink draughts a day for his patient, probably because he thought that the means of payment for needless luxuries might not in future be very abundant in the exchequer of his beloved.

always paid in advance, could not foresee any ill consequences from indulging her desire, and even graciously commended her for it.

"My dear Emily, what has happened?" she asked.

"O my dear aunt!" replied Emily, "you know too well what has happened. How can you bear the restraint of company in your present unhappy situation?"

"What are you talking about, Emily?" said her uncle, who had broken from his companions as soon as he recognized her. unwel-"All my good friends have met at my house to-day to congratulate me on my good fortune."

"Perhaps something may yet be saved out of the wreck, my dear," she said, " and it is well to be on the spot, to see what is doing; besides, people in trouble always get on best in the society of each other." "They indeed seem to be very come inmates in the abodes of the happy," sighed Emily, as alone, unprotected, and sorrowful, she ascended the steps of the postchaise which was to bear her to Lon


"Good fortune!" sighed the mystified, bewildered girl, thinking of the wreck of her ten thousand pounds. "I am acquainted with every thing, uncle; I have come not to reproach, but to console you. This morning I was made aware of your failure in business."

Sir David burst into a loud laugh, and repeated the words of his niece to several of his friends; in a moment, however, he knit his brows, and looked very angry. "Some rascal has been spreading slanderous rumors about me, to injure my credit,” he exclaimed; "you will, doubtless, give me up his name, Emily?"

"Willingly," replied his neice.

She was a kind, warm-hearted girl, and although deeply deploring her own misfortune, she also acutely felt for her honorable and respectable uncle, no longer able to take his station among the good and safe men of commerce, and likewise for her aunt, losing the luxuries which long habit must have made her regard as necessaries, and for the poor children, some of whom were old enough to value the advantages of affluence, and to feel the deprivations of poverty. A few hours brought Emily to London, and the chaise drove up to her uncle's house, in Russell Square, at about half-past six o'clock. Sir David and Lady Drewett were on that day entertaining a party of friends, whom the baronet had invited to dinner for the purpose of celebrating his new honors; they were all assembled in the drawing-room, and waiting the announcement of dinner, when Emily, pale, weeping, and wearied, rushed into the room, disregarding all the efforts of one Dinner was just then announced, Emily servant to announce her, and of another to retired to another room, to compose her disencumber her of her cloak. About a spirits and arrange her curls, and my letter dozen portly, comfortable-looking lords of was handed round at the dessert, in comthe creation, and the same number of gaily-pany with the sliced pine-apple and preservdressed, perhaps rather over-dressed ladies, ed ginger.

She had deposited my letter in a black velvet reticule, which, unlike the generality of ladies, she had not left by mistake on the seat of the postchaise; it was hanging over her arm, and she speedily presented her uncle with the "document," as a lawyer in company called it, which identified the "slanderous rascal" in question with my unfortunate self!

slandering party, and also the date of the month and year; the letter is addressed to Miss Brooks, and you are characterized as her uncle Drewett. There is not a mere obscure insinuation as to any possible involvement of your circumstances, but there

occupied the drawing room; the lights were "It is the clearest case of defamation I blazing brilliantly. Lady Drewett, in a new ever knew in my life," said the lawyer. corn-flower blue satin dress, and an elabo-" Here is the signature and address of the rate cap with long blonde streamers, sat placidly smiling on her visitors, the picture of good-humor, health, and affluence. Her children were arrayed in all the perfection of crisp book-muslin frocks, and exquisitely shining hair, and the new baronet was talking to a little knot of friends, and laughing is a distinct statement of your bankruptcy, louder and looking happier than he had ever done in his life. Emily's appearance excited great astonishment. Lady Drewett advanced to meet her, perfectly horrified at her dusty travelling dress and straw cottage bonnet.

with the accompanying comment that it makes quite a sensation in the city. The matter must be taken up; it is a duty to society to do so."

"To be sure, to be sure," chorused three or four of the "fat friends" of the

master of the house; "such a thing might she long in making that selection.
happen to any of ourselves; an example
ought to be made of this young fellow."

May not Mr. Seyton's assertion be what the aristocracy call a hoax?" asked a little quiet man, who sat deliberately peeling an orange, and had not hitherto spoken.

Sir," replied the new baronet, "there is no intermediate path, in my opinion, between truth and falsehood, and I shall always hold it the true aristocracy to hold to the first, and despise the last."


lawyer to whom I have before alluded was intimate at the house of Sir David, and as he was neither fat nor elderly, appeared to some advantage by the side of the other friends of the family; he was disappointed in not being permitted to conduct an action for defamation against me, but recompensed himself by making love to Emily. In three months after her melo-dramatic entrance into the drawing-room of Russell Square, she became the bride of her Chancery Lane So excellent a sentiment, from a gentle- adorer. My affections were not speedily man in his own house, could not be allowed transferred to another. I remained heartto pass unnoticed, and there was a great whole for two years and a half, when I knocking of hands upon the table, and became enamored with my third love, who shuffling of feet beneath it, accompanied was far more dear to me than either of her by sundry exclamations of "Well done, predecessors had been.

Sir David-spoken like a

and a man

The next day, instead of being favored, as I had hoped, with an answer from Emily, I received, to my great surprise and annoyance, a lawyer's letter, informing me the an action for defamation was to be insti




tuted against me at the sult of Sir David BY ELIZABETH YOU OFF Drewett, I having asserted his Lece,


a moment the

From the Metropolitan.

"Hearts are tombs Where secret loves are buried out of sight." J. WESTLAND MARSTON.

IIr human hearts indeed are tombs

Where secret loves are buried out of sight,
O! then I wist the earth one grave-yard is,
All fill'd with sepulchres, pale, cold, and

And not less sad, because conceal'd by flowers

Low, sweet laughter haunted every place,

And beauty meets the eye where'er it turns.
Spell-bound we view earth's glittering coronals,
Nor dream that they can hide sad funeral urns,
Wherein a life-consuming fire for ever burns.
But oh! a loving faith shall still be ours-
That nowhere all is gloom!

source of the mistake, and determined to call on Sir David Drewett without delay, and explain the circumstances to him. took with me George Gordon, who I felt would be a valuable witness in my favor on two accounts; first, because he could depose to the early and hopeless wretchedness of my hand-writing, and, secondly, because he had passed the preceding evening at my house, and I had told him that I had written to Miss Brooks, to ask her vote for the child in whose case he was interested, and that I had informed her of the baronetcy of her uncle, with which I had that morning become acquainted. Sir David received my explanation, and acquitted me of all evil intentions, but told me, with some stiffness and sternness, that my mistake might have occasioned the most disastrous consequences, and that he considered my want of skill in one of the most necessary and important attainments for a young man, who had his way to make in the world, as a serious calamity. I wrote to Emily the next day, Conservators have just completed the catalogue of apologizing for the uneasiness I had unwa- its contents, a work upon which they have been It comprises 463,332 rily caused her, and entreating her permis-engaged for eleven years. answered volumes, without the pamphlets and single sheets. sion to call upon her. She never It is to be printed and published at the expense of my letter. She did not return to Mrs. the government. The manuscripts in this library Williamson's, but staid with her uncle till amount to about 22,000, of which only between she could select another home. Nor was 4,000 and 5,000 are yet catalogued.-Athenæum.

Each pining heart a rest shall surely find,—
The sunshine gild the tomb!
And hopes, kept green by tears, more brightly



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