Passion seeks the gratification of self; Love sacrifices itself. What says Tennyson?— Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all

the chords with might;

Smote the chord of self, that trembling passed in music out of sight.' '

"Cite proofs, and not the fictions of poetry, if you wish to convert me, Mr. Dundas. I could as soon believe in those philosophical speculations, Mesmerism, Clairvoyance, and Phrenology, as in this imaginative one."

"Is not love a species of Mesmerism?" observed Eustace. "How else shall we account for those inward sympathies, that irresistible power of attraction which is constantly seen existing between two individuals, which flashes over the souls of each when they first meet, irradiating them with a new and beautiful light, awakening chords which had previously lain mute, but now start into life, and vibrate 'sweetest music' ?" "You will excuse my arguing that question, Mr. Campbell; I have no talent for the frivolous discussion of theories of the imagination." "Then you have never loved, and never expect to love, Miss Beauville?"

Edith's clear calm voice contrasted strangely with the eager, anxious tones of the questioner, as she replied " I suppose I have a due regard for my relatives, and shall have for my husband, if ever I wed; what more is needed? At any rate, there begin and end my capabilities of loving."

A deep flush passed over the countenance of Dundas as he heard her speak, and read the confirmation of her words in the cold beam of her clear blue eye and the hard curve of her lip. There was much of bitterness in his voice as he murmured those beautiful lines of Elizabeth Barrett

"The self-poised God may dwell alone
In inward glorying-

But raptest angel waiteth for

His brothers' voice to sing!
And a lonely creature of sinful nature,
It is an awful thing!"

Edith looked as if she heard him not; and rising, suffered the earl to lead her to the harp.

You do not share your sister's infidelity?" murmured Eustace, bending over Florence, who was seated at her embroidery frame.

Why should I disbelieve simply because I do not comprehend! There are many other mysteries to which we yield implicit credence, without being able to understand or explain them, without ourselves having observed or experienced their effects."

"Then you have yet to learn how to recognize this mystery: how enviable his fate who shall share your initiation into it!"

Florence dared not meet the gaze she felt was bent upon her. The man saw his power, and triumphed in it. There are male flirts, who will bend their every energy and talent to fascinate, simply for the sake of the gratification it yields to their self-esteem. The flint and steel strike

out sparks, but themselves possess no heat The luminous flame of phosphorus emits a light, but is devoid of warmth. So such men as Eustace Campbell pass through the world, dazzling the eyes of imaginative beings, wearing all the seeming of truth, feeling, and honour, but at heart cold, calculating hypocrites. Self is their idol, and they seek worshippers to sacrifice at its shrine, perfectly indifferent as to the after-fate of these blind idolators. They are vampires, who prey on hearts in order to sustain and cherish their egotism. We do not mean to deny that individuals of this species are also to be found among the female sex, and are equally as reprehensible; but their power to do evil is more limited. In the first place, women must not seek, but be sought; if they were to venture on so open a deviation from the beaten path, they would speedily be taught by society its opinion of their breach of its rules, their outrage on propriety. And besides, men's love is a different thing; it is the embellishment, not the very principle, of his life. After a disappoint ment, he can go forth and mingle with the world, and its interests and speculations and ambitions, and select and woo another; but she must continue in the old round of quiet domestic employments and duties, all of which allow but too much leisure for thought, and must sit down and wait until another seeks her love, or more frequently remain single all her life; for a slight degree of attention shown by a single man to a young woman will suffice to lead all their friends to talk of it, and pronounce them engaged;" and when this terminates, we may be very sure which party will be blamed. “The weakest ever go to the wall."

Time flew onwards, bearing with it the onward destinies of all our dramatis persone. Sir Marmaduke died, and his son succeeded to the title. Edith married, and became a countess, and all the world said she made an admirable wife. She did not sneer at the weaknesses of her husband-that would have lowered herself; she appeared in public with him on all proper occasions; she did a great deal of good to his tenantry, and established libraries and lecturerooms for them; she encouraged talented and scientific people, and delighted to have them about her; and was praised, quoted, and admired-but not loved!

Florence was presented at court, and created an even greater sensation than her sister had done. Her loveliness was animated, full of soul and expression. How vain was Eustace Campbell then of the advantage he possessed over all her other admirers; of the flattering preference he obtained. His elegant form leant over her chair at the opera; his low voice, breathing of poetry and devotion, whispered its flatteries between the pauses of the dance; his hand presented the carefully-chosen bouquet, whose flowers spoke those words of love his lip never gave utterance to.

Lady Augusta was not blind to all this; perhaps she could have wished for a nobler match for her daughter; but Florence was but scantily

portioned, and her own jointure was better calculated to keep one than two persons; besides, Eustace was a rising man, with wealthy friends, and powerful ministerial patronage. So she let matters take their own course, as she always had done in things of vital import to the happiness and peace of her children.

Among the admirers of Florence Beauville was Dundas. While captivated by her sister, he had scarcely noticed her, or thought of her but as a sweet girl, something more than child, and less than woman; now she burst upon him in the full blaze of her ripened loveliness, another Edith, but infinitely more beautiful, more fascinating. It was as if he had looked upon and admired some fair landscape when beheld by moonlight, and now surveyed it under the vivifying influences of a warm, clear sunshine. It was less a new love than the continuation of the old one. Will our fair readers blame him if he loved a second time? Would they blame an architect, who, finding that the first building he endeavoured to rear crumbled to ruins, set to work to raise another? Surely it is better to do so, than to sit despairingly among the ruins. They err who deem the heart incapable of second love. How can this be, when the principle which actuates this feeling is an inherent portion of our nature?

Alfred, or rather Sir Alfred, was now one of the gayest of gay men of fashion. Scandal had linked his name with that of more than one fair peeress; a duel fought with a husband who was too clear-sighted, added to his notoriety and fashion; for men, too, will court and caress a libertine, and so will women too, although they would turn with a vast deal of scorn and loathing from his victim. When will our sex learn to be true to themselves, and mark vice as vice wheresoever they meet it, unbiased by aught save charity!

Frequently, even in the height of the season, he was absent for a week, or even two; and where he went was one of his secrets, which he knew how to keep. In vain Lady Alice, a wealthy heiress whom he was wooing, and for whose sake he was, pro temp., a reformed man, strove to induce him to confess; nor did she, to tell the truth, care much about it, for she had sufficient confidence in her own fascinations to fear no rival, only her friends teazed her about it, and piqued her into questioning her stray lover.

And where was Isabel? She had resisted the tears and entreaties of her beloved Florence, who could not bear to be parted from her, and had remained with her father when her childhood's friend and companion quitted the Priory to be launched into the gay world. Bitter was the parting, severe the change, heavy the solitude. Accustomed to the society of those of her own age, habituated to luxuries, to the lofty apartments, and the numerous attendants at the Priory, Isabel found the cottage of her father dull, confined, comfortless. Then, too, he had long been accustomed to live alone; was taciturn, loved his paper, his pipe, and a glass of

warm toddy. "Tis true he also loved his child; she was the pride of his heart; but then some people have such odd ways of showing their affection; and the father and daughter had lived too long apart, and in too different spheres, to understand each other, or have many thoughts and feelings in common. Involuntarily, they were constantly offending each other's habits and prejudices; and, in spite of all their good feeling towards one another, were not as happy together as they had been apart. Both made sacrifices of their habits and wishes, and both felt that they were sacrifices, and not the freewill offerings of the heart.

And why had Isabel remained here, why did she continue to resist all Florence's invitations, her own curiosity to see the "great city," her intense longing to be there? Let us listen to this conversation between her and her father, perhaps it will inform us.

"So Sir Alfred has been down to the Priory again! You did not tell me you had seen him."

"It was but for a few minutes yesterday, father."

"And how long the day before? Girl, you are treading a perilous path!" The old man smoked away vigorously for a while, then said, "Did I not see Squire Wilton in the lane yesterday?"

"I dare say you did; he called while you were out, so I did not see him." And Isabel blushed with shame at her own falsehood; the truth was, she dared not see him, for fear of exciting the stormy jealousy of another.

"Humph! So it would be more improper to receive an honest, honourable man under your father's roof, than to meet that young scapegrace by the fish-ponds!" Again a pause ensued, and the smoke floated around in clouds, and irritated Isabel's throat and eyes. "You cannot be such a simpleton as to think that that young man means honourably by you. A baronet wed a poor girl without a sixpence! Yet there you let him come dangling after you with his fine words, and sweet looks; and you, too, of all persons, who ought to know his character so well."

66

Surely, father, you do not give a moment's credence to all the malicious reports which have gone about?"

"I admit that rumour is a slanderous jade; but we have known facts, and they are stubborn things,' girl. Be advised! Accept an honest man, and escape the snares of that ignis fatuus."

Isabel retired to her chamber to weep those burning drops which are wrung from the heart by a sense of its own weakness. Often had she felt that professions of love from Sir Alfred Beauville to her were a mockery; often had she asked herself if it were possible that she was mad, vain enough to believe in them. Surely she did not love him! Fain would she have answered distinctly in the negative; but her voice was stifled in a sigh, her bosom heaved, and her cheek burned, as even in memory she

feelings, virtuous principles, and strength and energy of character.

Sir Alfred ran a short career of sensuality and debauchery, and sank into an early grave. He, too, might have been a worthy member of society. That same soil which, when neglected, bears only rank weeds, may by cultivation be made to produce luxuriant and valuable crops.

In the retirement sought by Isabel, she heard nothing of the sorrow of her early friend, or she would have flown to her side to comfort and support her; and that she had not been able to do so she ever reproached herself and her folly. Under the guidance of her father, she became an altered being, and a better and more rightthinking woman. Some years later, we see her the wife of Mr. Wilton, the mother of his children, and fully capable of appreciating his regard and her domestic and social happiness.

Printing the kiss of sleep and peace on yon pale suff'rer's brow.

Spirits of light! and love! and joy! still let me feel

ye near !

Ye

race

sweet sound,

people night with glowing forms, make silence one Whose thrilling tones pierce in, and in, the spirit's depths profound.

The sins of earth mine eyelids veil, and dim my longing ear;

But still, oh still my Father's love permits your hov'ring near;

I know, I know ye come from Him, ye link this earth with heaven,*

And earth's dark hours of grief and care to your fond charge are given.

In ev'ry balmy sleep, that seals your sufferer's aching eyes,

In ev'ry smile, that on her lip, in cradled slumber lies,

In ev'ry soothing thought that comes, to check the
Angels of Heav'n-spirit forms! I know that ye are
watcher's tear,
Oh linger round me! still, oh still, my silent watch

near;

to share,

And upward! upward on your wings, my fainting spirit bear.

To share and bless my lonely watch, and dry each ling'ring tear,

ing heart,

who break windows must pay for them !" exclaimed he. "Right!" replied Jarnowick; "right! What is the damage?" Thirty sous!" "Well then! there's a three-franc piece." "I have no change, Monsieur !" "Oh, never mind," rejoined the imperturbable Jarnowick, at the same time dashing his cane through a second square; "there, now we are quits."-Memoranda of a Musician, by G. J. 0. Allmann.

MUSIC OF NATURE.-Among the Javanese there exists a tradition, which relates, that their first idea

of music arose from the circumstance of one of their ancestors having heard the air make a melodial sound as it passed through the hollow of a bamboo tube, which happened to be hanging accidentally from a tree: it induced him to imitate it. Thence, perhaps, may be derived the fable that music descended from heaven. They have a very curious species of Æolian instrument formed of bamboo, very common to some of the Australasian Isles, which emits as well some very fine tones as elicits some most discordant notes. -Ibid.

* ،، And Jacob dreamed, and behold a ladder set upon the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven; and the angels of God ascended and descended upon it."

These are remarkable volumes, and their publication will we think, mark an era in the annals of English literature, their author at once a practised statesman and an accomplished scholar, while combining in their composition the calm philosophy of a Hume or Hallam, with the extensive reading and antiquarian research of the elder D'Israeli, has enriched them with brilliant diction and felicitous illustration all his own.

"I propose," says Mr. Macaulay, "to write the History of England from the accession of James the Second down to a time which is within the memory of men still living." And we propose, if life and health be spared us, from time to time to lay before our readers such sketches of the plan and execution of the work, as may we trust, induce them not merely to peruse, but to study it for themselves. We rejoice to think that, under Mr. Macaulay's guidance, we shall retrace our foreign wars, domestic revolutions, negotiations, conflicts, triumphs, and defeats, during the last two hundred years, and though the retrospect will be by no means one of unmingled exultation, since while much is to be venerated, much also is to be reprobated and deplored, yet upon the whole we believe that we have made no inconsiderable progress in the right direction, and gladly echo his cheering declaration

"That the general result of this chequered narrative will be to excite thankfulness in all religious minds, and hope in the breasts of all patriots. For the history of our country during the last 160 years is eminently the history of physical, of moral, and of intellectual improvement. Those who compare the age on which their lot has fallen, with a golden age which exists only in their imagination, may talk of degeneracy and decay; but no man who is correctly informed as to the past will be disposed to take a morose or desponding view of the present." -Vol. i. p. 3.

HISTORY.*

his history had been traced, and the accomplishment of his undertaking has been reserved for his disciple and friend, Mr. Macaulay.

The opening chapters are devoted to a rapid but vigorous and graphic sketch of our early annals; the ancient Briton, the Saxon idolator, the Danish pirate, and the chivalrous Norman

with their distinctive national characteristics, are touched briefly, but by a master hand; even the superstitions of monkery and the errors of corrupted and debased religion are proved to have been by no means unmingled evils. The mild and holy precepts of Christianity, though misunderstood and not unfrequently abused, were at all events more humanizing in their effects than the bloody rites of the Scandinavian Edda. What little science and literature existed were not only monopolized but preserved among the monasteries and cathedrals;—if the learning of the monk was frivolous, and his philosophy fallacious, it was nevertheless pro tanto better than the gross and utter ignorance of the laity,-if our forefathers groaned under the ever changing yet always unrelenting thraldom of each succeeding race of conquerors, the church offered them an occasional and secure asylum-no man enjoyed or could have appreciated liberty, but Christianity often acted as a curb upon the regal or aristocratic tyrant. The first faint germs of popular freedom were fostered by institutions, however rude and susceptible of abuse, under which the savage baron and fierce robber-knight knelt with superstitious awe before the lowly hermit; or a peasant's son, robed in cowl and scapular, launched the Church's excommunication against the sacrilegious spoiler, and cursed him with bell, book, and candle from the village altar.

*THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND FROM THE ACCESSION OF JAMES THE SECOND. By Thomas Babington Macaulay. Vols. I, and II. London: Longman and Co.

craft than by brute violence; by such a prelate as Dunstan than by such a warrior as Penda. A society has great reason to rejoice when a class of which the sunk in ignorance and ruled by mere physical force

influence is intellectual and moral rises to ascen. dancy. Such a class will doubtless abuse its power; but mental power even when abused is still a nobler and better power than that which consists merely in corporeal strength. * **Surely a system which,