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of the Queen's friends. By his intercession, the Hamiltons have been reprieved from the death of traitors, and to his kindness I owe a manumission which I received yesterday of Patrick's attainder, in consideration, as it stated, of his youth and of his father's services in the right cause. Patrick is therefore now at liberty; and I have been thinking that, in the event of his marriage, he might take possession of the small estate of Polmadie, which his mother by will lias left him. As to the young lady's mother, I have not yet consulted with her on the matter, but I doubt she will be very unwilling to part with her daughter, seeing that none other of the family remains."
"She will indeed be very lonely, my lord," said the doctor, "and of that I have been led to speak with her very frequently in private, when I observed the attachment of Master Patrick and Mrs Martha."
"So—so," said the baron, smiling, "you have been already condoling with the widow on the subject, and you could not dolesssurely, doctor, than offer to cherish and comfort her in her apprehended loneliness, by taking her to wife."
"I will not deny, my lord, that some such understanding may exist between us,'' said the doctor, blushing as deeply as a bachelor of fifty could blush.
"Then all is well,—and we shall make two weddings of it at once, my old buck!" said the baron, poking the sides of the confused doctor with humorous glee.
The marriages, however, did not take place at the same time. The young Master and the fair Martha were first espoused, and great was the rejoicing of the whole barony; for, in addition to the usual excitement of a marriage, the people were delighted at the restoration of their favourite, whom they had accounted lost, and at his union with one of their own native children. But great as was the rejoicing on this occasion, it did not equal the uproar which took place, six weeks afterwards, when worthy Dr Macclutch was united to widow Menzies. Every fire-arm was then in requisition to welcome the auspicious morn; mummeries, in which the cutlers played a distinguished part, were enacted on the streets; and the walls of the Boar's Head shook with dancing and revelry for three successive 403 THE THREE WESTMINSTER BOYS.* BY MRS JOHNSTONE.
Dans l'alcôve sombre,
Près d'un humble autel,
Du lit maternel.
S'ouvre pour le ciel.
II fait bien des rêves-
Plein de diamans,
Dans leurs bras charmans.
Une voix qui chante
Ses sœurs sont plus belles
Son père est près d'elles.
Sa mère a des ailes
Il voit mille choses
Plein le corridor;
A des roseaux d'or I
Enfant, rêve encore!
Ou s'en vont tes ;ours. Comme une algue morte Tu vas, que t'importe! Le courant t'emporte,
Mais tu dors toujours!
Sans soin, sans étude,
A la froide main.
N'ecrit pas: Demain!
In the dusky court,
Of his mother's bed:
On the heaven o'erhead.
Many a dream is with him:
Seems the ocean sand;
O! enchanting vision 1
Comes a voice that sings.
Plumes her new-born wings.
But a brighter vision
Every path enfold;
Through the reeds of gold.
Slumber on, sweet infant,
Thy young soul yet knows not
What thy lot may be.
What is all to thee?
Thou canst slumber by the way;
Thou hast learnt to borrow
Nought from study, nought from rare;
The cold hand of sorrow, On thy brow unwrinkled yet, Where young truth and candour sit, Ne'er with rugged nail hath writ
That sad word, 'To-morrow f
♦ The original French of this fine piece is by Victor Hugo. For the English version we art Indebted to the Foreign Quarterly Review.
Mais l'ange le touche,
Mv gentle girl, my fondest prayers
And free from evils, ails, and cares,
May the soft sunshine of the soul,
Be thine, that 'neath its mild control,
Thy open brow untouched by care,
The ringlets of thine auburn hair,
Speak—thou art fair I and all that love
With face—each tender thought to move,
Thou art thine own reward—aoft Peace,
Thy heritage, till life shall cease,
Adieu, fair girl! 'twere vain to bless, Or call for biessiogs on thy lot;
The Magic Lantern, which belonged to Mr Dodsley, was elegantly and ingeniously formed. He chose to exhibit its wonders himself; and story, and picture, aiding and illustrating each other, agreeably occupied several Nights Of The Round Table.
"Peep, and tell us what you see, Charles," said the reverend showman to our old friend Charles Herbert.—" An old building, forms, desks, a lofty large room, many boys and youths, and three apart and prominent."—"Let me look," cried Sophia,—" Westminster school, I declare! and those three boys!—one very noble and graceful; the next dark, thoughtful, resolute, with keen eyes, and compressed lips; and the third—O! how gently, yet brightly he smiles, dear bashful boy, as his dark, bold companion extends his arm, haranguing and pointing forward to some high distant object! A picture is it,—a figure in state robes?—or is it to the insignia blazoned on that desk?—Nay, I daresay he wishes to be head-master."
"Have you all seen the three school-fellows?" asked Mr Dodsley; "look at them well, for here they part on the path of life, never to meet again. Presto! change:—What see you now, Sophia?"— "Still the dark stern youth, and the gentle timid one:—they are older now, but I know them well. The noble-looking boy has disappeared. The scene seems chambers in the temple. Through an open window I have a glimpse of gardens: piles of huge books are lying on tables, floors, and shelves. The dark resolute youth pores on a black letter folio, and makes as it were notes or extracts. The other leans by the window, gazing over the gardens, a small open volume fluttering in his relaxed hand. Ha! I read on it 'Thomson's Seasons.'"—" Yes, Sophia, your gentle law-student is an idle rogue; he has been seduced into the 'primrose paths of poesy' —let us see the result;—meanwhile here is another picture."— "Beautiful! beautiful!" cried the admiring girl, "A large ship!" —" An outward-bound Indiaman," said Mr Dodsley. "All her sails set," continued Sophia. "How proudly, how statelily she
• From " Nights of the Round Table," the First Series. This piece has also appeared in a cheap and excellent periodical conducted at Edinburgh by the husband of the authoress, and entitled, 'The Schoolmaster, and Edinburgh Weekly Magazine.' At present we are indebted for our extract to 'The Schoolmaster,' but in justice to the work in which it originally appeared, we may state that we had marked the story off for insertion in 'The Republic' long before 'The Schouhnaster' commenced his meritorious labours.
ploughs her way, breasting the waters like a swan. And there, on her deck, that noble gentleman, the third Westminster boy,— and yet not he,—walking so proudly as if in accordance with the majestic motion of the brave ship. I am glad to meet him again: —and all those military attendants—the gaudily dressed musical band, —the plumed officers,—and he the centre of all 1 What a great man he must be, and how well honour becomes him!"
"Shall we follow his progress to the East, or return to yonder gloomy, sombre chamber in the temple?"—" Both," cried several young eager voices; "we must trace them all,—all the three schoolfellows."
The next view was of a large Oriental city, its architectural splendour and magnificence of outline glittering in the dazzling, but uncertain brilliance of the morning sun; domes and minarets, Mahomedan mosques, and Indian pagodas, fountains, and palaces, and stately dwellings, sparkling in the out-pouring of the increasing flood of intense and golden light. Over this scene were grouped and scattered Mussulmans, Arab warriors, Brahmins, and Sepoys,—all in diversified and picturesque costumes,—ornamented palanquins, European officers richly dressed, and mounted on beautiful horses; elephants prancing in their splendid trappings; females and children, their dark skins and silky hair, and large black eyes, contrasting with their white and gaudily spangled dresses; dancing girls, and marabouts,—all, in short, that could compose a picture of Oriental beauty and splendour; and that princely man, now of middle age, on the large white elephant, still the centre of all.
The scene changed slightly, and discovered the interior of the magnificent saloon of a residence that appeared royal, where the noble figure, whom Sophia still declared the third boy of Westminster school, received, in Oriental state, homage, paid with the lowliest prostrations of the East, from a long train of nawaubs, rajahs, and envoys, illustrious captives or princely tributaries, whom his policy or his prowess had subdued to the dominion of England. Royal and magnificent was all about him; his aspect grave, dignified, and elate, his step and air majestic; yet the shadow of deep, anxious thought, of heart-struck care, at times darkened his embrowned visage. Whence then had fled the generous, sunny, open smile, that lightened the grey walls of Westminster school ?—the noble, free expression of the younger man, who so proudly trode the deck of the outward-bound Indiaman?
"Alas! what change I" said Sophia; "I almost dread, yet long to follow him farther."
Dim, troubled, misty scenes next flitted by; battles hid in smoke and obscurity, the wide plain of Hindostan flooded or desolate,—