was no harm; I saw the ink streaming from an inlaid table on to the Turkey carpet, and scarcely knowing what I did, attempted to stop its progress with my cambric handkerchief. In the height of this confusion we were informed that dinner was served-up, and I with joy perceived that the bell which at first had so alarmed my fears, was only the half-hour dinner-bell.

In walking through the hall and suite of apartments to the dining-room, I had time to collect my scattered senses, and was desired to take my seat betwixt Lady Friendly and her eldest daughter at the table. Since the fall of the wooden "Xenophon," my face had been continually burning like a firebrand; and I was just beginning to recover myself, and to feel comfortably cool, when an unlooked-for accident rekindled all my heat and blushes. Having set my plate of soup too near the edge of the table, in bowing to Miss Dinah, who politely complimented the pattern of my waistcoat, I tumbled the whole scalding contents into my lap. In spite of an immediate supply of napkins to wipe the surface of my clothes, my black silk breeches were not stout enough to save me from the painful effects of this sudden fomentation, and for some minutes my legs and thighs seemed stewing in a boiling cauldron; but recollecting how Sir Thomas had disguised his torture when I trod upon his toe, I firmly bore my pain in silence, and sat with my lower extremities parboiled amidst the stifled giggling of the ladies and the servants.

I will not relate the several blunders which I made during the first course, or the distress occasioned by my being desired to carve a fowl, or help to various dishes that stood near me, spilling a sauce-boat, and knocking down a salt-cellar; rather let me hasten to the second course," where fresh disasters overwhelmed me quite."

I had a piece of rich sweet pudding on my fork, when Miss Louisa Friendly begged to trouble me for a pigeon that stood near me. In my haste, scarcely knowing what I did, I whipped the pudding into my

mouth hot as a burning coal. It was impossible to conceal my agony, my eyes were starting from their sockets. At last, in spite of shame and resolution, was obliged to drop the cause of torment on my plate. Sir Thomas and the ladies all compassionated my misfortune, and each advised a different application; one recommended oil, another water, but all agreed that wine was best for drawing out fire, and a glass of sherry was brought me from the sideboard, which I snatched up with eagerness: but oh! how shall I tell the sequel? whether the butler by accident mistook, or purposely designed to drive me mad, he gave me the strongest brandy, with which I filled my mouth, already flayed and blistered. Totally unused to ardent spirits, with my tongue, throat, and palate as raw as beef, what could I do? I could not swallow; and, clapping my hands upon my mouth, the cursed liquor squirted through my nose and fingers like a fountain over all the dishes; and I, crushed by bursts of laughter from all quarters. In vain did Sir Thomas reprimand the servants and Lady Friendly chide her daughters, for the measure of my shame but their diversion was not yet complete. To relieve me from the intolerable state of perspiration which this accident had caused, without considering what I did, I wiped my face with that illfated handkerchief, which was still wet from the consequences of the fall of "Xenophon," and covered all my features with streaks of ink in every direction. The baronet himself could not support this shock, but joined his lady in the general laugh; while I sprung from the table in despair, rushed out of the house, and ran home in an agony of confusion and disgrace which the most poignant sense of guilt could have excited.

Thus, without having deviated from the path of moral rectitude, I am suffering torments like a "goblin damned." The lower half of me has been almost boiled, my tongue and mouth grilled, and I bear the mark of Cain upon my forehead; yet these are but trifling considerations to the everlasting shame which I

must feel whenever this adventure shall be mentioned. Perhaps by your assistance when my neighbours know how much I feel on the occasion, they will spare a bashful man, and (as I am just informed my poultice is ready) I trust you will excuse the haste in which I retire.

GIVE ME THY HEART.

ADELAIDE ANN PROCTER (1830-1864).

[The death of Miss Procter at the early age of thirty-four was an event which flashed like an electric shock through the hearts of those who had watched the budding and the early bloom of her transcendant genius. She was the daughter of that thoroughly English lyrist, Bryan Waller Procter (Barry Cornwall), his

of 1821, and of whom he wrote

"Child of my heart! my sweet, beloved first-born!
Thou dove who tidings bring'st of calmer hours!
Thou rainbow who dost shine when all the showers
Are past or passing!"

It would be too much to say that Miss Procter filled the blank occasioned by the death of Mrs. Hemans, but assuredly she approached nearer than many of her tuneful sisters to the vacant throne-an approach, too, that was daily lessening in the gradual improvement of her verses in depth and feeling. Her collected writings are now published by Messrs. Bell and Daldy, and are received as standard contributions to the poetical literature of the country.]

WITH echoing steps the worshippers
Departed one by one;

The organ's pealing voice was stilled,
The vesper hymn was done;

The shadows fell from roof and arch,

Dim was the incensed air,

One lamp alone with trembling ray,

Told of the presence there!

In the dark church she knelt alone;

Her tears were falling fast;

"Help, Lord," she cried, "the shades of death Upon my soul are cast!

Have I not shunned the path of sin,

And chosen the better part?"

What voice came through the sacred air?— "My child, give me thy Heart!"

"Have I not laid before Thy shrine
My wealth, oh Lord?" she cried;
"Have I kept aught of gems or gold,
To minister to pride?

Have I not bade youth's joys retire,
And vain delights depart?"-
But sad and tender was the voice-
"My child, give me thy Heart!"

"Have I not, Lord, gone day by day
Where Thy poor children dwell;
And carried help, and gold, and food?
Oh Lord, Thou knowest it well!
From many a house, from many a soul,
My hand bids care depart :"-

More sad, more tender, was the voice-
"My child, give me thy Heart !"

"Have I not worn my strength away
With fast and penance sore?
Have I not watched and wept ?" she cried;
"Did Thy dear Saints do more?
Have I not gained Thy grace, O Lord,
And won in Heaven my part?"

It echoed louder in her soul-
"My child, give me thy Heart!

"For I have loved thee with a love
No mortal heart can show;

A love so deep, my Saints in heaven
Its depths can never know:

When pierced and wounded on the Cross,
Man's sin and doom were mine,

I loved thee with undying love,
Immortal and divine!

"I loved thee ere the skies were spread;
My soul bears all thy pains;
To gain thy love my sacred heart
In earthly shrines remains :
Vain are thy offerings, vain thy sighs,
Without one gift divine,

Give it, my child, thy Heart to me,
And it shall rest in mine!"

In awę she listened, and the shade
Passed from her soul away;
In low and trembling voice she cried-
"Lord, help me to obey!

Break Thou the chains of earth, oh Lord,
That bind and hold my heart;
Let it be Thine, and Thine alone,
Let none with Thee have part.

"Send down, oh Lord, Thy sacred fire!
Consume and cleanse the sin
That lingers still within its depths:
Let heavenly love begin.

That sacred flame Thy saints have known,

Kindle, oh Lord, in me,

Thou above all the rest for ever,

And all the rest in Thee."

The blessing fell upon her soul;

Her angel by her side

Knew that the hour of peace was come;

Her soul was purified:

The shadows fell from roof and arch,

Dim was the incensed air

But Peace went with her as she left
The sacred Presence there!