manship, and the glitter of the gems, with which the clasp was thickly studded. Margaret undid the clasp to try it on Edith's arm, and in so doing a secret spring, connected with it, opened, and gave to view a bright chesnut lock of hair, with this inscription on the plate-" Severed in the yewtree walk, April the -" but before she could finish the sentence, Edith sprang towards her, and, snatching the bracelet, instantly recognized the ringlet Edward had half begged, half stolen, the morning they parted; and with a suffocating convulsive cry, "he's here, he's here," sunk senseless into her mother's arms. were All was in an instant thrown aside, dresses, bonnets, scarfs, all that ten minutes ago had rivetted their attention now became regardless lumber—in the absorbing accident that called for instant activity. Mrs. Mendlesholm sent the two youngest girls out of the room, and with Ellen's assistance soon succeeded in restoring poor Edith to a sort of dreamy consciousness; she still held the bracelet tightly grasped in her hand, and the first words she uttered, as they had been the last, "he's here," which to Ellen were still a mystery. But the mother, who had seen Edward's farewell letter, and well remembered the concluding sentence, was at least able to form the conjecture, that if not actually there he was not very far off; and leaving Ellen to sit by her sister, who had fallen into a light slumber, she herself stole down the yew-tree walk, half expecting to meet him there; but she only found the Major, who, with the assistance of his old servant and fellow-soldier Batty, was gathering the sweets, so profusely scattered on the arrival of the millinery. She thought it better not to mention to him what had occurred, but on Edith's awaking told her where she had been, and at the same time gave it as her fixed opinion, from her knowledge of Edward's character, that he was not only near, but in circumstances to claim a renewal of her promise. With this comforting thought Edith gradually fell into a sweet and tranquil sleep, still however retaining the bracelet, which she considered the harbinger of good; and was only roused the next morning by Ellen bringing her some breakfast, and her anxious mother coming to see how she had passed the night. The morning repast was hastily partaken of by all-all seemed in a state of feverish excitement, and tiptoe expectation. The wedding-breakfast was set out in the drawing-room, where we first found the family. Ellen, Alice, and Margaret were dressed, and three more beautiful young creatures, the father thought (and with reason) could never have presented themselves to a poet's fancy-until Edith, with a timid step, followed her mother into the room, adorning rather than adorned by, the beautiful Brussels lace and white satin, with the gracefully falling veil, and with the blush of hope upon her cheek, she looked the very personification of loveliness; and proud did those parents feel of their beautiful children. The clock had chimed nine, half after, and a quarter to ten; and Mr. Dalton, the officiating clergyman, had sent down to know at what hour bis services would be required; which was exactly what all the party wished themselves to be informed. The whole company had been invited for twelve, according to their uncle's expressed wish. At length Margaret's impatience burst all restraint, and, jumping up, she proposed they should all go, and gather a white rose from the tree which grew at the bottom of the yew-tree walk. The Major and Mrs. Mendlesholm preferred waiting the expected arrival in the large old hall which fronted the carriage road. So the girls sallied out on their short pilgrimage to the rose tree, in which Alice and Margaret far outstripped their sisters, and had selected and gathered their roses long before Edith and Ellen reached the middle of the walk; they shook their flowers triumphantly as they passed on their way back to the house, where they arrived just in time to see two handsome carriages, and an elegant travelling chariot drive up to the gateway. The Major came hastily forward to greet his brother-in-law and the bride, at the same time calling to Margaret, to run and fetch Edith from the yew-tree walk. The words were hardly uttered before his hand was hastily wrung by a young man, who had wrenched open the door of the foremost carriage ere the footman could dismount, and not waiting the aid of steps, sprang out, and had darted off in the direction of the yew-tree walk, before Margaret had comprehended what her father had said to her. The Major stood in astonishment half a moment, and then approached the carriage to offer his arm to the lady, but was surprised at seeing only Mr. Auben, who exclaimed, while shaking him by the band, Now where's that graceless young dog flown off to? After bringing me all this way on a wild-goose chace he starts off and leaves me, just as I wanted him most. How d'ye do, Bell? Why you'd be quite a Hebe if it wasn't for the girls! Alice, Margaret, my little angels, how are you both? Where is Ellen? and where is my sweet Edith? Ah, now, that young fellow will find her, I dare say. I wish I could run as fast." "But, brother, where is the lady ?" enquired the Major and Mrs. Mendlesholm both in a breath." "Lady! What lady?" Why, the bride to be sure, the new relation!" "Oh! ay, true; we shall find her at the church, I suppose.' "Mamma," said Alice softly, "I thought, as that gentleman rushed past, he looked very much like Mr. Peudarves; and I -” "Ah! there they are. I told you he'd find her: Well, let us go in for ten minutes, they'll join us presently; it just wants that of ten o'clock." "But the lady, William," added the Major; will it not be very indecorous to keep her waiting?" The poor Major, he was still in the dark, while to the mother and sisters it was clear as the sun when he shines, that Edith herself was to be the bride of that auspicious midsummer morn. "But I want to see my little Edith, sister; do go and tell her to come and take her uncle's blessing, and thank him for bringing you all a new relation. Bid her not keep us all waiting." Edith, on seeing her mother advance, brokę away from Edward (for he indeed it was) and flew to hide her tears and blushes in the maternal bosom. Edward besought Mrs. Mendlesholm to join her persuasion to his vehement entreaties, that the ceremony, which had long been fixed for that day, should not be delayed. He told them that uncle William had made him give his word of honour that he would not write to mar the little plot, and that it was only by a manœuvre he had got the bracelet put into the case of millinery, which he heard was going down to the Major's.' Messrs. B. B. and H., Ely-place, they would What young girl could resist the pleading of a lover, and a mother? Edith was brought to a half consent, and as uncle William had let the Major into the state of the case, during the absence of the parties concerned, and informed him that Edward was reinstated in his uncle's favour, he thankfully sought the little party in the so-often-named yew-dog-hawkers, and tried all in my power to entice tree-walk, and frankly accepting Edward's earnest proposal, and blessing his beautiful child, ended the discussion by himself leading her to the carriage, where having placed her with her mother and uncle, and arranged the rest of the party in the two remaining vehicles, they drove to the church, where the Rev. Mr. Dalton had waited so long, that his patience was, like Margaret's, nearly exhausted. The ceremony was begun and ended, and Edith, saluted as Mrs. Pendarves, was conveyed back to "the mansion," by her proud and happy bridegroom, in his elegant new chariot, the wedding gift of Sir Meredith to his nephew. The company were assembled to the breakfast, after which Edith's bridal robe was exchanged for the lilac silk, which had caused so much wonderment; and the handsome chariot which drove from the mansion door, with the horses' heads turned towards Wales, contained one of the happiest couples that ever received the nuptial benediction. "Well, they're off at last," said the uncle, dashing a tear-drop from his eye; "they're off at last, on two errands the one of matrimony, and the other of reconciliation, and making acquaintance—ah! I ought to have said three, you see; but I am always a word too many, or one too few, or else I should not have been standing here a lonely old bachelor myself. Well now, Bell, I suppose you and the Major, and, perhaps, the company would like to hear how we met." "The Major declared he had hardly yet recovered his surprise, and he honestly owned his happiness at seeing all so well ended, that he had not thought of inquiring by what means it was brought about." But as the ladies were not so wanting in curiosity, uncle William was assailed by so many questions, that he found his only answer would be, to begin his recital, which he did by a question. "Is it possible you never saw the advertisement Sir Meredith Pendarves caused to be inserted in all the papers?" "Stranger still if we had, said the Major, as we never see a paper at all; but what was it, brother?" "Why, merely stating that if any person could bring information, or give any tidings of Mr. Edward Pendarves, nephew and heir of Sir Meredith Pendarves, Pendarves Castle, Wales, to me. "In less than two hours the carriage arrived, stuffed full of all we most wanted, in the way of bedding, blankets, &c., and last, but not least, a doctor, to whom I shall feel for ever grateful for the kind attention he showed us; so that before night we had contrived to get the patient a little comfortable; and when the doctor came the next day, he brought me a bundle of Times' Newspapers, which had been sent after me from Baden, and what should be the first thing I popped upon but this advertisement; this was a fancy too, for I hardly ever look at advertisements. Edward got rapidly better, and when he regained his senses, you may be sure how glad he was to see me. had been running after this old general from place to place, till his purse got low as well as his spirits, and he determined to go on in the pedestrian style; but the fever stopped him all in good time. He "I had not been idle meanwhile, for I had written to the gentlemen in Ely-place, and heard from them that old Sir Meredith was exceedingly ill; that he had had a fit soon after Edward quitted him, and immediately on his recovering had formally made his will, constituting him his heir, and had empowered them to take every possible means of discovering whither he had betaken himself. They also forwarded a letter to Edward from the old gentleman himself, by which he told him that he was dying of a broken heart, for having treated him so harshly, and imploring (like a child for a toy) that he would come back and forgive him, and bring any lady he liked as Mrs. Pendarves, that the south wing was all ready for her reception, having been newly fitted up for Edward's wife, whomsoever she might be, or whenever she might make her appearance." "And Flo, uncle, where is dear little Flo ?" eagerly inquired Margaret. "Why Flo will probably be the first to welcome Mrs. Pendarves, as Sir Meredith begged Edward to leave her with him, because he said he could never be sufficiently kind to her for having been the means of his recovering his nephew. And so now we will all drink a glass of champagne, if you please, Major, to the health of the bride and our new relation." SONGS OF THE MOUNTAIN. BY W. G. J. BARKER, ESQ. Come, let us seek the mountain's crest, Oh sweet it is at will to stray Afar from tower and town, To breathe the fresh and healthy air And hear at times from some grey cliff There o'er the rock the foxgloves fling Of rugged majesty. Come, let us seek the mountains hoar, Amid their prospects stern We'll joyous roam, where mingled grow The tangled heath and fern; Far, far from all accustom'd paths, Where man hath seldom been, And where, except from savage things, No signs of life are seen. NO. II. I would I were on yon blue hill, Tell me no more the vales are fair; "Twas there, a babe, breath first I drew; Bright flowers adorn the fertile plain; For me their charms unfold in vain ; I'd rather pluck the humblest bell That blooms upon yon lonely fell. To southern climes let others roam, More dear to me my rugged home; And whilst my will continues free My dwelling on the hills shall be. NO. III. Away to the mountain, Beneath some dark tree; In those loved haunts again. Haste, haste to the mountain, And waves the dark tree; Banks of the Yore. centrate All our enjoyments and immunities From sick existence. Honour, Fame, Love, Ambition, Pride, Affection and its ties, So done, maternal friend! Thy life hath been The swarthy slough with raiment white and clean, Nor in the future aught but peace can see! * Mrs. Grant, of Duthil, Author of "Popular Models," &c., aged 84. Sept. 2, 1844. THE BALL AT HIGHWOOD. BY MRS. PONSONBY. "And so, Valerius," I said, "it appears we are expected to be at this ball?" "So it seems," replied Valerius, with a sad smile crossing his pale face as he spoke. "But in truth, as indeed thou knowest, my ball days are well nigh over, and it would have been better for me if they had never been," and Valerius sighed. "Ah, I recollect you lost your heart at a ball, and, if report says truly, your happiness also; but come, cheer up, man, and let us try if we cannot regain them both at this one." Valerius shook his head. "Thou art talking idly; but rather than displease Marianne or our Ridenta, I will go." this sort of life completely; he left the gay world, and all the scenes and companions of his youth, and bringing himself among our quiet valleys, lived only for the good of those about him, and sought his pleasure, or rather his solace, in the beauty and the glory that nature shed so lavishly around him. That night his good nature led him to the ball at Highwood, simply because we all wished him to go, and accordingly, half-past ten o'clock found us assembled beneath the lighted chandeliers. Now, gentle reader, do not imagine our ballroom at Highwood to be at all like the ball-room at Almack's, either in point of its own good qualities, or in respect to the quality of its occupants; but imagine it a tolerable apartment, tolerably lighted; the music tolerable, and the people ditto. Of course there was much to be laughed at, but then there was much to admire. There were the awkward Miss Grimshaws, and the dowdy Miss Browns; but then there were the two ladylike Miss Homes, the stylish Miss Stateland, the graceful Miss Campbell. "Tis true there was the illover her one neglected daughter like a dog over a bone; but then there was the handsome dowager, Mrs. Armathwaite, with her three lovely girls, the belles of the evening; and though one or two of our young sprigs of nobility were somewhat gauche, yet our stewards were perfection. As for the dancing, there was as much variety in that; but it was carried on with immense spirit, and the supper was excellent. Not very long ago, no one could be more fond of gaiety of every description than was this sighing hero of mine, whom I designate under the name of Valerius; and at a ball in the south of England he had met a fair lady, who made the impression which still continued so strong, and whose in-natured and ill-mannered Lady Craig, snarling fluence had been so fatal to his peace. She was young and lovely, with but one fault-a slight inclination for coquetry: she loved too well to show her power. Valerius is of a shy and sensitive nature; seldom roused to emotion, yet capable of the deepest and most enduring feelings on his indifferent, retiring disposition, it was difficult to make an impression; but once made, there it remained for ever. And Anna Morton effected this: he became her slave, and she certainly appeared to cherish a true regard for him. Valerius is rich, and of ancient birth. Anna was his equal in these respects. In point of worldly considerations, the course of true love ran very smooth indeed; but there came a change, and the first symptoms of this showed themselves at a ball. The lady took it into her head to torment her admirer; she received with too much pleasure the attentions of a new adorer. Valerius was deeply wounded; his pride took fire: perhaps he was too unyielding-too exacting. Be it as it may, the breach became widened, instead of closed; ball followed ball, and at each succeeding meeting the assiduities of the new lover increased in fervour, while those of Valerius declined proportionably: he was too proud to show how much he suffered. Anna strove to pique him into some display of temper, but she could not succeed. Vexed by his indifference, she played her own heart false, and, rejecting him on the eve of the closest alliance, already arranged by the friends of both parties, accepted Mr. Brookes, with a precipitancy that left her no resource, save a constant regret. Valerius woke as from a dream, to find himself alone. She bore her part bravely, but a close observer might see that she already repented of the step she had taken; however, she made a lovely bride, and for years after he heard of her, and read her name in all the gay records of the day, as the sharer and promoter of many a graceful festivity, among the fairest and the noblest of the land. But for Valerius all this was over; he forswore There were plenty of gentlemen; few were the wall-flowers; but their homage was chiefly directed to the Miss Armathwaites, Miss Campbell, Miss Stateland, and a fair widow-a stranger-who came with strangers, and whose name I could not learn. This widow would not dance; she remained seated at the farthest end of the room, remote from that occupied by ourselves, and the set to which we belonged. I had remarked her during a solitary tour I made round the saloon: she was very beautiful, and I guessed her to be in her second year of mourning, from her dress. She was robed in black tulle, or aérophane, with some splendid diamond ornaments-a crescent shining amid her dark hair, would have made her a fit impersonation of the Queen of Night. Valerius had not moved from where he had first placed himself, and even my description of the widow could not rouse him; he continued where chance had thrown him, between Lady Craig and Mrs. Stateland, both of whom were much pleased at his proximity, for both had daughters, and Valerius was what is called "a catch." But he was not thinking of them; his thoughts were far away, and another ball-room was before his eyes, and another face, more fair than the fairest of those around him. But for an invective delivered in very loud tones by Lady Craig against waltzing, I believe he would not have been induced to rise until the hour of departure; and this tale, in that case, would never have been, or at least, would have had no dénouement. disapprove of waltzing; therefore, in reply to a charitable offer made by a neighbouring lady to procure a partner for Miss Craig, she exclaimed, "A quadrille, of course: I have no objection to a quadrille: but do you think I would let my daughter waltz?" Then turning to Valerius"Do you approve of waltzing, Mr. ?" "Why not?" inquired Valerius, with an air of abstraction. "Why not! look at those Armathwaites; do you think I would let my daughter dance all-night as THOSE girls do, incessantly waltzing or galopading?" Valerius did look at those Armathwaites; with a gaze of admiration his glance followed the fairy form of Mary Armathwaite, as with her snowy dress, her long golden ringlets, her graceful figure, her tiny feet, she floated past him-a creature born of sunshine! "Don't you think waltzing a very improper dance, Mr. ?" persisted Lady Craig, who was annoyed and surprised that he had not immediately agreed with her. "Honi soit qui mal y pense," answered Valerius absently: "to the pure all things are pure: none but the impure of heart are prudes!" And the moment these words had passed his lips, he felt he had offended her cross ladyship for ever. Mrs. Stateland was a good-tempered woman; she touched his arm, and smiled; she wished to hint to him that he was saying a rude thing. Valerius felt that he had hit her ladyship a trifle too hard; he judged that a precipitate flight was best for him, and accordingly he rose and took refuge with myself. While recounting to me with great glee his mésaventure with the irate lady, I led him around the room; suddenly he paused; I felt his arm tremble: looking at him, I perceived that his eyes were intently fixed upon those of the fair widow, whose burning cheek and evident confusion were as puzzling to those of her party, as the emotion of Valerius was to me. Need I say more? will not my friends already have divined that the fair widow was Anna Brookes, once Anna Morton ?-need I say that reconciliation quickly followed recognition-that all the weary past was forgotten or atoned for, and that Anna and Valerius are now a happy wedded couple? But I may add that Valerius hourly blesses his own absence of mind, that led him into that gaucherie of words which forced him to quit the seat by Lady Craig; for his lady-love was on the point of departure from the room when he encountered her; and the next morning she was to have quitted our lakes for the south, and in all probability they would never have met again; and I may add, that Anna and Valerius are now looking over my shoulder as I write, and that their eldest child-a lovely boy-is seated on my knee; and this last fact must be a sufficient excuse for the illegibility of this "horrid scrawl." THE LOVER'S MESSAGE. BY MRS. F. B. SCOTT. Summer air, sweet summer air, Summer air, wild summer air, Summer air, glad summer air, Wander then, pure summer air, What to me is loveliness, And I know that such control It is characteristic of great minds to convey much information in few words; little minds, on the contrary, have the gift of talking much and saying nothing.--ROCHEFOUCAULT. |