"For we have fought beside the Loire,

I

And stained our arms in blood;
Not ever lost one step of ground,
So long as rebels stood.

"Hemmed in, I one time never thought
To die in British land,

Or see my noble prince again,

Or kiss his royal hand.
"But well fought every gallant squire,
And well fought every knight;
And rebels have been taught to feel
The force of British might.
"And now in humble terms they sue,
To know thy high command,
And here stand I these lists to claim,
For a fair lady's hand.

For Mary's love, and chivalry,
I dare the world to fight,
And foul and bitterly he lies,

Who dares deny my right."

"No, no, brave Clifford," Edward said,
"No lists to-day for thee,

Thy gallant deeds beside the Loire,
Well prove thy chivalry.

"Sir Guy, Sir Henry, and the rest,

Have well acquit their arms,

But Edward's thanks are Clifford's due,
As well as Mary's charms."

"My lord, you are her sire," he said,
Give kind consent and free,

And who denies our Clifford's right,
Shall ride a tilt with me."

Gay spake the prince, gay laughed the throng,
And Mary said not nay,

And bright with smile, and dance, and song,
Went down the festal day.

And when Lord Clifford to the board

Led down his Mary fair,

A knot of pinks was in his cap,

A knot was in her hair.

For it had been their sign of love,

And loved by them was still,

Till death came quietly on their heads,
And bowed them to his will.

And now, though years have passed away,
And all that years have seen,
And Clifford's deeds and Mary's charms,
Are as they ne'er had been,

Some wind, as if in memory,
Has borne the seeds on high,

To deck the ruin's crumbling wall,

And catch the passing eye.

It tells a tale to those who hear;
For beauty, strength, and power,
Are but the idols of a day,

More short-lived than a flower.
Joy on, joy on, then, while ye may,
Nor waste the moments dear;
Nor give yourself a cause to sigh,
Nor teach to shed a tear.

face, and obstinately looked out of the window, while she popped about the intérieur as if she had just taken lodgings and was putting them in order, throwing me every now and then some gracious apology in a not unpleasant voice. Mince as you please, madam," thought I; "you are a bore." I am sorry to add that I was very unaccommodating, gave no assistance in the stowing away of the umbrella, and when Fanfreluche came and placed his silken paws upon my knees, pushed him away very rudely. The little old maid-it was evident this was her quality-apologized for her dog as she had done for herself, and went on arranging her furniture-an operation not completed before we got to St. Saphorin.

For some hours a perfect silence was preserved, although iny companion several times gave a short dry cough, as if about to make an observation. At length, the digestion of a hurried dinner being probably completed, I felt all of a sudden quite bland and sociable, and began to be mightily ashamed of myself. 'Decidedly," thought I, I must give this poor woman the benefit of my conversation.” So I spoke, very likely with that self-satisfied air assumed sometimes by men accustomed to be well received. To my great vexation the old maid had by this time taken offence, and answered in a very stiff and reserved manner. Now the whole absurdity of my conduct was evident to me, and I determined to make amends. Being naturally of a diplomatic turn, I kept quiet for awhile, and then began to make advances to Fanfreluche. The poor animal bore no malice, and I won his heart by stroking his long ears. Then I gave a piece of sugar to the parrot; and having thus effected a practicable breach, took the citadel by storm by pointing out a more commodious way of arranging the great blue umbrella.

We were capital friends thenceforward; and I soon knew the history of Mlle. Nathalie Bernard by heart. A mightily uninteresting history it was to all but herself; so I shall not repeat it: suffice to say, that she had lived long on her little income, as she called it, at Lyon, and was now on her way to Avignon, where a very important object called her. This was no other than to save her niece Marie from a distasteful marriage, which her parents, very good people, but dazzled by the wealth of the unamiable suitor, wished to bring about.

"And have you," said I, "any reasonable hope of succeeding in your mission ?”

From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal. AN OLD MAID'S FIRST LOVE. WENT once to the south of France for my health; and being recommended to choose the neighborhood of Avignon, took my place, I scarcely know why, in the diligence all the way from Paris. By this proceeding I missed the steam-voyage down the Rhone, but fell in with some very pleasant people, about whom I am going to speak. I travelled in the intérieur, and from Lyon "Parbleu !" replied the old maid, “I have had no one for companion but a fussy little composed a little speech on ill-assorted lady, of a certain age, who had a large bas-unions, which I am sure will melt the hearts ket, a parrot in a cage, a little lapdog, a bandbox, a huge blue umbrella, which she could never succeed in stowing any where, and a moth-eaten muff. In my valetudinarian state I was not pleased with this inroad-especially as the little lady had a thin, pinched-up

of my sister and my brother-in-law; and if that does not succeed-why, I will make love to the futur myself, and whisper in his ear that a comfortable little income available at once, and a willing old maid, are better than a cross-grained damsel with expectations only.

You see I am resolved to make any sacrifice to effect my object."

I laughed at the old maid's disinterestedness, which was perhaps greater than at first appeared. At least she assured me that she had refused several respectable offers, simply because she liked the independence of a single life; and that if she had remained single to that age, it was a sign that marriage had nothing attractive for her in itself. We discussed the point learnedly as the diligence rolled; and what with the original turn of my companion's mind, the sportive disposition of Fanfreluche, and the occasional disjointed soliloquies of Coco, the parrot, our time passed very pleasantly. When night came Mlle. Nathalie ensconced herself in the corner behind her parcels and animals, and endeavored to sleep; but the jolting of the diligence, and her own lively imagination, wakened her every five minutes; and I had each time to give her a solemn assurance, on my word of honor as a gentleman, that there was no particular danger of our being upset into the Rhone.

We were ascending a steep hill next day; both had got out to walk. I have omitted to note that it was autumn. Trees and fields were touched by the golden fingers of the season. The prospect was wide, but I forget the precise locality. On the opposite side of the Rhone, which rolled its rapid current in a deepening valley to our right, rose a range of hills, covered with fields that sloped wonderfully, and sometimes gave place to precipices or wood-lined declivities. Here and there the ruins of some old castle-reminiscences of feudal times-rose amid lofty crags, and traced their jagged outline against the deep blue sky of Provence. Nathalie became almost sentimental as she gazed around on this beautiful scene.

her lap a head covered with beautiful curls. Even at that moment, as I afterwards remembered, she looked upon the young man as a thing over which she had acquired a right of property. "He is going our way," said she: "let us lift him into the diligence."

"A beggarly Parisian; yo, yo!" quoth the postilion as he passed, clacking his long whip. "Who will answer for his fare?" inquired the conductor.

"I will," replied Nathalie, taking the words out of my mouth.

In a few ininutes the young man, who looked bewildered and could not speak, was safely stowed among Nathalie's other parcels; and the crest of the hill being gained, we began rolling rapidly down a steep descent. The little old maid, though in a perfect ecstasy of delight-the incident evidently appeared to her quite an adventure-beliaved with remarkable prudence. While I was puzzling my head to guess by what disease this poor young man had been attacked, she was getting ready the remedies that appeared to her the most appropriate, in the shape of some excellent cakes and a bottle of good wine, which she fished out of her huge basket. Her protégé, made tame by hunger, allowed himself to be treated like a child. First she gave him a very small sip of Burgundy, then a diminutive fragment of cake; and then another sin and another piece of cake— insisting on his eating very slowly. Being perfectly useless, I looked quietly on, and smiled to see the submissiveness with which this fine, handsome fellow allowed himself to be fed by the fussy old maid, and how he kept his eyes fixed upon her with an expression of wondering admiration.

Before we arrived at Avignon we knew the history of the young man. He was an artist, who had spent several years studying We had climbed about half of the hill: the in Paris, without friends, without resources, diligence was a little way behind: the five except a miserable pittance which his mother, horses were stamping and striking fire from a poor peasant woman living in a village not the pavement as they struggled up with the far from Aix, had managed to send him. At ponderous vehicle: the other passengers had first he had been upheld by hope; and allingered in the rear with the conductor, who though he knew that his mother not only dehad pointed out a little auberge among some nied herself necessaries, but borrowed money trees. We here saw a man preceding us up- to support him, he was consoled by the idea on the road carrying a little bundle at the that the time would come when, by the efend of a stick over his shoulder: he seemed forts of his genius, he would be able to repay to advance painfully. Our attention was at- every thing with the accumulated interest tracted-I scarcely knew why. He paused a which affection alone would calculate. But moment-then went on with an uncertain his expenses necessarily increased, and no restep-paused again, staggered forward, and ceipts came to meet them. He was compelfell on his face just as we came up. Mlle. led to apply to his mother for further assistNathalie, with a presence of mind that sur- ance. The answer was one word-"imposprised me, had her smelling-bottle out in an sible." Then he endeavored calmly to examinstant, and was soon engaged in restoring ine his position, came to the conclusion that the unfortunate traveller to consciousness. I for several years more he must be a burden assisted as well as I was able, and trust that to his mother if he obstinately pursued his my good-will may atone for my awkardness. Nathalie did every thing; and, just as the diligence reached us, was gazing with delight on the languid opening of a pair of as fine eyes as I have ever seen, and supporting in

career, and that she must be utterly ruined to insure his success. So he gave up his art, sold every thing he had to pay part of his debts, and set out on foot to return to his village and become a peasant, as his father

had been before him. The little money he
had taken with him was gone by the time he
reached Lyon. He had passed through that
city without stopping, and for more than—indeed and excellent house.
two days, almost for two nights, had inces-
santly pursued his journey, without rest and
without food, until he had reached the spot
where, exhausted with fatigue and hunger,
he had fallen, perhaps to perish had we not
been there to assist him.

ductor thumped his breast with simple admi-
ration of his own humanity, and went away,
after recommending me to the Café de Paris

I shall say nothing of a variety of little incidents that occurred to me at Avignon, nor about my studies on the history of the popes who resided there. I must reserve myself entirely for the development of Nathalie's romance, which I could not follow step by Nathalie listened with eager attention to step, but the chief features of which I was this narrative, told with a frankness which enabled to catch during a series of visits I our sympathy excited. Now and then she paid to the farmhouse. Nathalie herself was gave a convulsive start, or checked a hyster- very communicative to me at first, and scarceical sob, and at last fairly burst into tears. Ily deigned to conceal her sentiments. By dewas interested as well as she, but retained grees, however, as the catastrophe approachmore calmness to observe how moral beauty ed, she became more and more reserved; and almost vainly struggled to appear through the I had to learn from others, or to guess the insignificant features of this admirable wo-part she played. man. Her little eyes, reddened with weeping; her pinched-up nose, blooming at the point; her thin lips, probably accustomed to sarcasm; her cheeks, with a leaded citron hue; her hair that forked up in unmanageable curls-all combined to obscure the exquisite expression of respect and sympathy, perhaps already of love, sparkling from her kindled soul, that could just be made out by an attentive eye. At length, however, she became for a moment perfectly beautiful, as, when the young painter had finished his story, with an expression that showed how bitterly he regretted his abandoned art, she took both his hands in hers, and exclaimed: "No, mon enfant, you shall not be thus disappointed. Your genius"-she already took it for granted he had genius-"shall have an opportunity for development. Your mother cannot do what is necessary-she has played her part. I will be a-second mother to you, in return for the little affection you can bestow on me without ingratitude to her to whom you owe your life."

The farmhouse was situated on the other side of the river, in a small plain, fertile and well wooded. Old Cossu, the owner, was a fine jolly fellow, but evidently a little sharp in money matters. I was surprised at first that he received the visit of Claude favorably; but when it came out that a good part of his capital belonged to Nathalie, every circuinstance of deference to her was explained. Mère Cossu was not a very remarkable personage; unless it be remarkable that she entertained the most profound veneration for her husband, quoted his commonest sayings as witticisms, and was ready to laugh herself into convulsions if he sneezed louder than usual. Marie was a charming little person; perhaps a little too demure in her manners, considering her wicked black eyes. She was soon very friendly with Claude and me, but seemed to prefer passing her time in whispered conversations with Nathalie. I was let into the secret that their conversation turned principally on the means of getting rid of the husband-elect-a great lubberly fellow, who lived some leagues off, and whose red face shone over the garden-gate,

"My life has to be paid for twice," said he, kissing her hand. Nathalie could not help looking round proudly to me. It was so flat-in company with a huge nosegay, regularly tering to receive the gallant attentions of so handsome a young man, that I think she tried to forget how she had bought them.

In the exuberance of her hospitality, the little old maid invited both Claude Richer and myself to spend some time in the large farmhouse of her brother-in-law. I declined, with a promise to be a frequent visitor; but Claude, who was rather commanded than asked, could do nothing but accept. I left them at the diligence office, and saw them walk away, the little Nathalie affecting to support her feeble companion. For the honor of human nature let me add, that the conductor said nothing about the fare. "It would have been indelicate,” he said to me, "to remind Mlle. Nathalie of her promise in the young man's presence. I know her well; and she will pay me at a future time. At any rate I must show that there is a heart under this waistcoat." So saying, the con

every Sunday morning. In spite of the complying temper of old Cossu in other respects when Nathalie gave her advice, he seemed obstinately bent on choosing his own son-inlaw. Parents are oftener correct than romancers will allow, in their negative opinions on this delicate subject, but I cannot say as much for them when they undertake to be affirmative.

I soon observed that Nathalie was not so entirely devoted to the accomplishment of the object for which she had undertaken her journey as she had promised; and, above all, that she spoke no more of the disinterested sacrifice of herself as a substitute for Marie. I maliciously alluded to this subject in one of our private confabulations, and Nathalie, instead of being offended, frankly answered that she could not make big Paul Boneau happy and assist Claude in his studies at the same time. "I have now," she said,

66

an

to develop this genius, of which France will one day be proud; and I shall devote myself to it unremittingly."

occupation for the rest of my life—namely, | despair in her countenance. I know not why, but the thought at once occurred to me that the Rhone ran rapid and deep not far off, and I threw myself across her path. She started like a guilty thing, but did not resist when I took her hand and led her back slowly towards the farmhouse. We had nearly reached it in silence when she suddenly stopped, and bursting into tears turned away into a by-lane where was a little bench under an elm. Here she sat down and sobbed for a long time, while I stood by. At length she raised her head and asked me: "Do morality and religion require self-sacrifice even to the end-even to making half a life a desert, even to heart-breaking, even unto death?" "It scarcely belongs to a selfish mortal to because it is exercised here and there, now and then, once in a hundred years, that man can claim some affinity with the divine nature."

A smile of ineffable sweetness played about the poor old girl's lips. She wiped her eyes, and began talking of the changing aspect of the season, and how the trees day by day more rapidly shed their leaves, and how the Rhone had swelled within its ample bed, and of various topics apparently unconnected with her frame of mind, but all indicating that she felt the winter waa coming-a long and dreary winter for her. At this moment Fanfreluche, which had missed her, came down the lane, barking with fierce joy; and she took the poor little beast in her arms, and exhaled the last bitter feeling that tormented her in these words: lovest me--because I have fed thee!" In her humility she seemed now to believe that her only claim to love was her charity; and that even this claim was not recognized except by a dog!

"Come, Nathalie," replied I, taking her arm in mine as we crossed the poplar-meadow, "have you no hope of a reward?" "I understand," quoth she frankly; "and I will not play at cross-purposes with you. If this young man really loves his art, and his art alone, as he pretends, could he do better than reward me-as you call it-for my assistance? The word has a cruel signification, but you did not mean it unkindly." I looked at her wan, sallow countenance, that had begun for some days to wear an expression of painful anxiety. At that moment I saw over a hedge-but she could not-counsel such virtue," I replied; "but it is Claude and Marie walking in a neighboring field, and pausing now and then to bend their heads very close together in admiration of some very common flower. "Poor old maid," thought I, "you will have no reward save the consciousness of your own pure intentions." The minute development of this drama without dramatic scenes would perhaps be more instructive than any elaborate analysis of human passions in general; but it would require a volume, and I can only here give a mere summary. Nathalie, in whom alone I felt particularly interested, soon found that she had deceived herself as to the nature of her sentiments for Claude-that instead of regarding him with almost maternal solicitude, she loved him with an intensity that is the peculiar characteristic of passions awakened late in life, when the common consolation is inadmissible-"after all, I may find better." This was her last, her only chance of a happiness, which she had declared to me she had never dreamed of, but which in reality she had only declined because it did not present itself to her under all the conditions required by her refined and sensitive mind. Claude, who was an excellent fellow, but incapable of comprehending her or sacrificing himself, never swerved from grateful deference to her; but I could observe, that as the state of her feelings became more apparent, he took greater care to mark the character of his sentiments for her, and to insist with some affectation on the depth of his filial affection. Nathalie's eyes were often red with tears-a fact which Claude did not choose perhaps to notice, for fear of an explanation. Marie, on the contrary, became more blooming every day, while her eloquent eyes were still more assiduously bent upon the ground. It was evident to me that she and Clande understood one another perfectly well.

At length the same thing became evident to Nathalie. How the revelation was made to her I do not know; but sudden it must have been, for I met her one day in the poplar-field, walking hurriedly along with an extraordinary expression of

Thou at least

I was not admitted to the secret of the family conclave that took place, but learned simply that Nathalie pleaded with feverish energy the love that had grown up between Marie and Claude as an insuperable bar to the proposed marriage between Paul Boneau and her niece. Matters were arranged by means of large sacrifices on the part of the heroic maid. Paul's face ceased to beam over the garden-gate on a Sunday morning; and by degrees the news got abroad that Marie was betrothed to the young artist. One day a decent old woman in sabots came to the farmhouse: it was Claude's mother, who had walked from Aix to see him. It was arranged that Claude should pursue his studies a year longer, and then marry. Whether any explanation took place I do not know; but I observed that the young man sometimes looked with the same expression of wondering admiration I had observed in the diligence at the little Nathalie-more citronhued than ever. At length she unhooked the cage of Coco, the parrot, took Fanfreluche under one arm and her blue umbrella under

the other, and went away in company with the whole family, myself included, every one carrying a parcel or a basket to the diligence office. What a party that was! Every one was in tears except Nathalie. She bore up manfully, if I may use the word; laughed, and actually joked; but just as I handed Coco in, her factitious courage yielded, and she burst into an agony of grief. With officious zeal I kept at the window until the diligence gave a lurch and started; and then turning round I looked at Claude and Marie, who were already mingling their eyes in selfish forgetfulness of their benefactress, and said solemnly: "There goes the best woman ever created for this unworthy earth." The artist, who, for an ordinary man, did not lack sentiment, took my hand and said: " Sir, I will quarrel with any man who says less of that angel than you have done."

She was born at Brussels, the 15th of April, 1710, of a noble family, that had supplied several cardinals to the sacred college, and is of considerable distinction in Spanish history, both ecclesiastical and national. Her name was Marianne. Her mother had danced, but with the ladies of the court, for her own pleasure, and not for that of others. Her father, Ferdinand de Cupis de Camargo, was a frank Spanish noble, that is to say he was poor; he lived at Brussels, upon the crumbs of the table of the Prince de Ligne, without counting the debts he made. His family, which was quite numerous, was brought up by the grace of God; the father frequented the tavern, trusting to the truth that there is a God that rules over children!

Marianne was so pretty that the Princess de Ligne used to call her her fairy daughter. Light as a bird, she used to spring into the The marriage was brought about in less elins, and jump from branch to branch. No time than had been agreed upon. Nathalie fawn in its morning gayety had more caof course did not come; but she sent some pricious and easy movements; no deer presents and a pleasant letter of congratula-wounded by the huntsman ever sprang with tion, in which she called herself "an inveterate old maid." About a year afterwards I passed through Lyon and saw her. She was still very yellow, and more than ever attentive to Fanfreluche and Coco. I even thought she devoted herself too much to the service of these two troublesome pets, to say nothing of a huge cat which she had added to her menagerie, as a kind of hieroglyphic of her condition. "How fare the married couple?" cried she, tossing up her cork-screw curls. cooing and billing?"

66

more force and grace. When she was ten years old, the Princess de Ligne thought that this pretty wonder belonged of right to Paris, the city of wonders, Paris, where the opera was then displaying its thousand and thousand enchantments. It was decided that Mademoiselle de Camargo should be a dancing-girl at the opera. Her father objected strenuously: "Dancing-girl! the daughter of a gentleman, a grandee of Spain !"— "Still" Goddess of dance, if you please," said the Princess of Ligne, in order to quiet him. He resigned himself to taking a journey to Paris in the prince's carriage. He arrived in the style of a lord at the house of Mademoiselle Prévost, whom the poets of the day celebrated under the name of Terpsichore. She consented to give lessons to Marianne de Camargo. Three months after his departure, M. de Camargo returned to Brussels, with the air of a conqueror. Mademoiselle de Pr vost had predicted that his daughter would be his glory and his fortune.

Mademoiselle," said I, "they are getting on pretty well. Claude, finding the historic pencil not lucrative, has taken to portraitpainting; and being no longer an enthusiastic artist, talks even of adopting the more expeditious method of the Daguerreotype. In the meantime, half the tradesmen of Avignon, to say nothing of Aix, have bespoken caricatures of themselves by his hand. Marie makes a tolerable wife, but has a terrible will of her own, and is feared as well as loved." Nathalie tried to laugh; but the memory of her old illusions coming over her, she leaned down towards the cat she was nursing, and sparkling tears fell upon its glossy fur.

After having danced at a fête given by the Prince de Ligne, Marianne de Camargo made her first appearance at the Brussels theatre, where she reigned for three years as first danseuse. Her true theatre was not there;

From advance sheets of a capital book entitled " Men and in spite of her triumph at Brussels, her ima

Women of the XIXth Century, by Argene Houssaye," in press by Redfield

MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO. ADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO almost

gination always carried her to Paris; notwithstanding when she quitted Brussels she went to Rouen. Finally, after a long residence lated that Gritry, when he was scarcely four first appearance at the opera. It was on the years of age, had an idea of musical tunes. 5th of May, 1726, for the famous day of her Mademoiselle de Camargo danced at a much debût has not been forgotten, that she apearlier age. She was still in arms when the peared with all the brilliancy of sixteen upon combined airs of a violin and a hautboy the first stage in the world. Mademoiselle caught her ear. She jumped about full of life, Pr. vost. already jealous, from a presentiment and during the whole time that the music was perhaps, had advised her to make her first playing, she danced, there is no other word appearance in the Characters of the Dance, for it, keeping time with great delight. It a step almost impossible, which the most must be stated that she was of Spanish origin. | celebrated dancers hardly had dared to at