Oliver rushed after the boy-but he was out of sight. Alas! he was an abused man. Go where he might, every one seemed acquainted with the trick, and inquired when the wedding was to come off, or something equally senseless. The singing class he dared not face; and, indeed, it was nigh two months ere the matter partly blew over, and he could comfortably appear again in public. [To be continued.] BLIGHTED HOPES. O! WHEN shall life its joys impart No! rather let my sorrows gather, For who would live as I have done, That perished in their brightest hours; Laid prostrate by malignant powers; The boldest wretch will hold his breath- Oblivious, seek for joy. O! for a cave remote from men, On some wild shore, Where peace and rest might come again, Deceit and wrong no more Where, with the gifts that God hath given, Forget the world and train my soul for heaven. MY OLD ARM-CHAIR. A SEXAGENARIAN'S REVERIE. I HAVE a great regard for my old arm-chair, and, when snugly seated thereon, with elbows leaning on either side, a pleasing sensation of exquisite pleasure creeps over my whole frame. No other chair pleases me half so well, even although it were made of the finest wood, carved and ornamented in modern fashion, and overlaid with the richest crimson. On it, I feel thoroughly constrained, experiencing the sensation of the schoolboy, when, dressed in his best attire, he perceives, but cannot, lest he soil his habiliments, participate in the playful gambols of his schoolfellows. But, nestled in thee, my venerable supporter, I give myself up to the dictates of fancy, who, taking the reins of imagination under her sway, skips wildly hither and thither, unchecked and uncontrolled. On these occasions, many a bright vision has flitted before me, on which I have gazed with delight, and wished, but wished in vain, that such were realised in active life. I am an incorrigible castle-builder, fancying continually to myself the bright fate laid up in store for me. However convinced of the folly of indulging in such ærial speculations, and conscious of the unsubstantiality of their foundations, I cling to them with fond delight. And when, after the labours of the day are closed, I seat myself on my old arm-chair, by a blazing hearth, I erect my ethereal buildings, and count myself as happy as a king, envying not the great their titles or their wealth. Venerable relic of time now past, thou look'st not gay and sparkling, as when thou left'st thy maker's hand. Age hath dimmed thy lustre, and while friends who call upon me scout thee as an ugly appendage, and recommend thy removal, my heart warms to thee more closely. Age, which to the eye of strangers tends to mar thy beauty, but the more endears thee to my sight. Poverty, when it presses hard on man, makes him part with valued relics; but griping indeed must be that poverty, bitter indeed must be that distress, which will cause me to part from thee, my dear old arm-chair! Thou art the first object that meets my gaze as I enter my room-the last on which my eye alights as I leave it. Would that thou hadst a tongue. How many pleasant stories couldst thou not recite-how many reminiscences of former days couldst thou not unfold! My earliest associations are connected with the old arm-chair. I have distinctly impressed on my mental retina the appearance of home -of the old chair and its occupant, my much-loved father-now, alas! no longer a denizen of this world, but the inhabitant of a brighter realmı above. My father was one of the best of men-kind and affectionate at home, respected and esteemed abroad. Often were we, his children, called around him, when, seated on his arm-chair, he laid aside his book, and taught us lessons of wisdom. These were, indeed, days of happiness. A delightful privilege we esteemed it-one of which we always took advantage-to cluster round his chair, and drink in with eagerness the words of sound instruction that fell from his honoured lips. He had been a soldier in his youth, and often would he pour into our delighted ears tales of his adventures. These he related with a felicity of diction I have never heard surpassed; while from every scene he drew some useful lesson to imprint on our young minds. Wrapt in eager attention, we have sat around him; and our gentle and loving mother, whose slightest wish it was our pleasure to obey, could, on these occasions, scarcely prevail on us to retire to rest, and leave the charmed circle round the old arm-chair. These bright days proved transient. A severe cold, caught in the duties of his calling, stretched him on a bed of sickness, from which he never rose; and, surrounded by his weeping family, he calmly breathed his last. Often, with fond delight, do I look back on these scenes and recal the pleasant hours thus spent. The instructions then sown in my mind have never been effaced; and whatever success I have met with in this world, I trace to the valuable maxims and wholesome counsels imparted by my father, when seated on his favourite chair. Of the strictest probity and honour himself, he inculcated the same to his children; not in the stern authoritative tone of a harsh master, but in the sweet convincing accents of a gentle friend. Our faults he never allowed to pass unnoticed; and we feared his rebuke more than all the physical punishment he could have inflicted. His hallowing influence has followed me through life; and if I ever hesitated between justice and self-interest in any of my transactions, I soon resolved to adopt the former path, by thinking how, in such circumstances, he would have acted; and never have I been deceived. Best of parents! this is but a feeble tribute to thy merits; but it is the genuine tribute of the heart. My utmost wish is, that I may be able to pass on through the world as thou hast done— blameless and loved; and die as thou hast died-" the death of the righteous." How sad and desolate our home now looked! A heavy gloom hung on all the members of the household. The light of our eyes, the sun of our little system, had now sunk in night. Children as we were, we felt the change. We looked on the venerable chair; but, alas! its much loved occupant was gone; yet we loved it the more because it had been the favourite seat of our departed parent. Our tender mother bore up well and bravely under the severe shock, but for our sakes alone, otherwise she would have wished to quit this world, and be with him whom on earth she loved so well. All those things he had loved and used, she carefully preserved, and among these, she, in particular, regarded with peculiar affection the old arm-chair, on which, but a few hours before his death, my father had desired to seat himself once more. How carefully did she dust it morning and evening, and often, in the midst of her household occupations, would she fix her eyes, suffused with tears, upon its well remembered form. Our worldly prospects, which before had been smiling, were soon destined to be overcast. The bank, in whose funds was deposited the whole of our little fortune, failed, and in one brief hour we were plunged from comparative affluence to poverty. Oh! Poverty, thou art hard indeed to bear, and this the more to those who have, but a little before, been basking in the sunshine of prosperity! We were indeed poor, very poor, but we had the consolation that our poverty was the result of causes over which we had no control, and resulted not from extravagance on our part. Privation pressed severely upon us, and to meet stern necessity, our chattels, one by one, were sold. Our arm-chair was, however, preserved to the last. But even it, loved as it was, must also be sacrificed. Our landlord, inexorable, claimed and seized it, and, with other articles, it was to be sold to the highest bidder. This last proceeding gave the finishing stroke to our misfortunes. Poverty and hardships, bitter as indeed these were, we endured patiently, with scarcely a murmur, so long as the old arm-chair, the relic of former and plenteous days, was ours. It was a remembrancer awakening in our bosoms tender recollections-a sweet instrument whose every tone vibrated exquisitely in our ears. The auction day arrived. It was a day, wet and gloomy, and, in our estimation, accorded well with the proceedings to be enacted. I attended to buy-alas, no!—but to watch into whose hands the much loved treasure fell. Calmly I beheld article after article disposed of; with immoveable countenance I looked on; but when, with ruthless hand, the auctioneer grasped the old arm-chair, and laughingly-ah! it was to me most insultingly-asked, "What's bid for this article; this old grandfather's article ?"-my whole frame quivered with indignation. Juvenile as I was, I could have felled him to the earth. I felt hot and feverish. I looked around and scanned the faces on either side, and wondered how they could feel so calm. With cold calculating deliberation they bade, as if it were a matter of the merest indifference whether they did or did not obtain the offered article. I could not enter into their feelings, for, with me, how different-the chair was all in all. In the heat of the moment I also bade-it was only a bid -the painful reality forced itself upon me, that I had not a plack in the world. Still the bidding went on. Unable to bear the sight, I closed my eyes, and averted my head. The chair was at length knocked down to a stranger. As he took it, I wept. Am I ashamed of those tears? No! I glory in them, for they were the outpourings of the heart. I sought the purchaser, and obtained from him the promise that he would preserve in its integrity the revered old chair. I looked at it once more, and then tore myself from the room. From that moment an entire revolution was effected in me. I vowed that, from this time, I would strain every nerve within me to recover this valued family relic, and restore my mother to a state of affluence and comfort. The world may smile at the idea that the sale of an old arm-chair should produce such a change. They may scoff such a thought as the crack-brained fancy of an enthusiast, or as a subterfuge to conceal an inordinate love for wealth. Let them do so. I care as little for their revilings as I do for their insinuations. They, who indulge in such sneering observations, know little of the workings of the human heart-know little of the slight causes that bring its powers into play, and direct them with a steady determined purpose towards a fixed aim. The mightiest conqueror of modern times wept when he heard the tones of the church bell, familiar to him in his childhood. The sound recalled to his remembrance those early days, when, buoyant with youthful vigour and unstained by bloodshed, he gambled with his playmates on the green fields and grassy knolls of the village. The mariner, on the stormy ocean, when waves are raging high, and winds are howling fierce, is cheered in his arduous labours by the hope of reaching home, and enjoying its pleasures. So have I felt. My course has been chequered, and I have experienced the griefs as well as the joys this world abounds in; but the former were alleviated, and the latter enhanced, by the thoughts of a comfortable home, and my old arm-chair. I kept my vow. Long I battled with the world; many a severe encounter I had to struggle against; but, thanks to perseverance and assiduity, I overcame. Now that, so far as fortune was concerned, I was, comparatively speaking, easy, I resolved to put into execution a plan I had long conceived. I purchased a cottage, far away from the city, finely situated on the banks of a lovely stream. This I fitted up with all things suitable. One particular room I furnished, as nearly as I could recollect, like the one we sat so oft in at home, and there I placed, as it stood of yore, the old arm-chair, which I had procured from the purchaser, who, true to his word, had carefully preserved it. The grounds around I had tastefully laid out, and soon, such is the magical influence of money, combined with skill, the whole was fair to look upon. I returned to the city and entered my dwelling. My mother was there, and seated by the only window in the house that commanded a view of the garden. Garden, did I say? What mockery of the word! A piece of ground four steps could traverse either way, was all the garden I could boast of. Deprived of the sun's genial rays, by the intervention of surrounding buildings, the growth of the flowers and shrubs was miserably stinted, and to my mother, whose whole life had been spent among green fields and pleasant gardens, the contrast was painful. As I softly entered, I perceived a tear stealing down her cheek. The sound of my footsteps roused her, and, hastily wiping these crystal dew-drops from her countenance, she sweetly smiled her welcome. "Has any "My dear mother! why these tears ?" I exclaimed. unpleasant circumstance been jarring upon your feelings? If so, tell me, I entreat you, that I may mingle my sympathy with yours." "Remembrances of former days, my dear son, have been forcing themselves upon me. That little green spot," pointing to the garden, "small though it be, affords me more pleasure than all the sights this city can afford. The busy hum of the world fatigues and pains me, and I long for green fields and a purer air." "Your wish shall be gratified. Like yourself, I love not the city; and, now that fortune has smiled on my industry, I shall quit for ever the mart of commerce, and, in the country, enjoy quietness and repose." "Do "You gladden my heart with these words," said my mother. not, however, I beseech you, for any strongly expressed wish of mine, endanger your pecuniary interests. I love, no doubt, the country, with its green fields and rural pleasures, as my earliest recollections are |