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affectionate towards us, and by his talents so superior. I know that, for he has shown me pieces of his composition, such as we could never write, notwithstanding che advantages of our education."

"We are still very young, and he also, to judge what we shall be hereafter," rejoined Angelique, piqued.

"Yes, yes," we are yonng, but that does not prevent Noel from having already ad the honour of seeing himself in print."

"In print?"

"Yes, he has written a kind of story, which M. Valérius (you know that professor at St. Cyr, who has taken a fancy to him) thought worthy of being put into a newspaper."

"You remind me of what I heard a few days since, the production of an author twelve years old. It is called, I think, the "Forest of St. Cloud."

"Exactly. Well! what have you to say about it? is it not an honour for us to have a brother an author?"

“M. Valérius has no doubt executed the greatest part of the work; it is impossible that Noel should have so much genius."

"Because he is modest and silent, instead of making a parade of what he knows; you are not aware that that is precisely the poof of talent."

"Ah! I wish he had a hundred times more, and that he was not reduced to servitude."

"I will know why he is brought to such an extremity! I shall go to-day and see him."

“But not under your own name, I hope ?"

"Yes, under my own name; for I tell you again, Angelique, that nothing can make me blush for my relationship, but crime or villany, and Noel is incapable of either.” This little conversation was by no means so connected as I have given it; on the contrary, it was often interrupted and resumed, so that the brother and sister separated, without the latter saying all she intended on the subjcct. Solomon did not fail to call at M. André's, who was somewhat surprised to hear a young gentleman, very well dressed, state that he was brother to his little gardener. Solomon explained simply to him the cause for that difference. As for Noel, yet chilled by the interview with Angelique, he hardly knew how to accost his brother, but the latter relieved his embarrassment by throwing himself upon his neck.

M. André having left them alone, Noel related to Solomon the circumstances which had compelled him for a time to leave home, begging him, however, not to mention it to M. Philéas and his sister, lest this candour should appear to them an appeal to their generosity. Solomon ventured to speak of Angelique and the regret she felt for her impertinent conduct, but Noel quickly replied that the wound she had inflicted was yet too fresh to be touched even to be healed; and as his eyes filled with tears, Solomon added no more on the subject.

(To be continued.)

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To beings rightly organised-
The thoughtful and the good-
How sweet are moments when they may
The busy world exclude!
None but the reckless, the corrupt,
The imbecile, the rude,
Yearn morbidly for stirring scenes-
Recoil from Solitude!
For 'tis within that peaceful realm
Man delves the hoards of sages,
And tracks the march of mighty mind
O'er learning's rugged stages;
And nurtures many a project grand
Which highest gifts engages,-
Accomplished, to be graven on
Fame's adamantine pages!
'Tis there his free-born soul asserts
Her native dignity,

And ranges o'er untrodden ground
Of vast sublimity;

Or launches forth rejoicing on
An unexplored sea,

Where isles of treasure yet unknown
wait discovery!

'Tis there he most profoundly feels
How vast are life's relations,
And, pondering the rise and fall
Of persons and of nations,
May learn to rightly estimate

The world with its creations,
And curb his rebel will beneath
Heaven's direst dispensations;
To value the diviner part,

Think humbly of the "clod," Mark well his sin-misguided steps,

Trace where his Saviour trod; And so to live, that when his house Shall sink beneath the sod, Its habitant, "white-robed," may soar To glory, bliss, and God! Vain pleasure's idle votaries

A gay and fluttering throngDislike or scorn who do not mix Her brilliant crowd among: More fitly might themselves be made A theme of pitying song,More wise to tune the spirit-lyre Than list her sensual gong!

To beings rightly organised-
The prudent and the good-
How dear are seasons when they may
The noisy world exclude!

None but the reckless, the corrupt,
The imbecile, the rude,

Yearn morbidly for stirring scenes-
Recoil from Solitude!

CARACTACUS.

COUSINS.

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hearted young man! Hadst thou ever a cousin? A fair cousin, numbering about eighteen summers?—a cousin with light blue eyes, and clustering ringlets of bright chesnut brown ?-a cousin with face so sunny that it seemeth never to have known sorrow-an arch smile ever lurking near the corners of one of the prettiest mouths in the world, and lips, sweet lips, so full, so ruddy, and so pouting, that they seem to say continually, "Come, kiss me;" together with a voice issuing from those same sweet lips-a voice of that clear, peculiar richness which windeth itself around the heart; and a form that fain chooseth to nestle near thy bosom, as if that were its appropriate resting-place? O sympathising reader! O generoushearted and too susceptible young man! if thou hast such a cousin, take the advice

of a friend, and-avoid her! Is her figure lightly and beautifully formed? hath she

a springy tread, as if half walking, half floating? is her laugh musical? doth she discourse sweetly? doth she call thee "cousin" in a low, confiding tone? If so, I pray thee shun her-fly from her-lock thy door when she approacheth; and if she entereth thy apartment, when thou art sitting alone of an evening, put out the lamp, that darkness may be between thee and her,-then button up thy coat, and take thy hat, and depart quickly. If thou beholdest her afar off, in thy summer rambles in the shadowy grove, or by the margin of the bright river, return thou hastily, as one who fleeth from an enemy that seeketh his life. If thou meetest her unawares, pull thy hat over thy brow and pass on; and, remember, see that thou salute her not by the way, or evil will come of it; for, 'twere less dangerous to thee to gaze upon the head of the Medusa than bestow a single glance upon the laughing features of a cousin of eighteen. Treasure these precepts in thy heart, and so shalt thou be safe n the midst of temptation. But if thou abatest one jot

VOL. III-NEW SERIES.

BB

in thy vigilance, thou wilt, ere many days, become as one who putteth on sackcloth and ashes for a grievous penance, and walketh through the city of many men crying aloud, Wo! wo! wo! Therefore, gird thyself for the contest. If she dwelleth in the house of thy father, depart thou from it; and though they send to thee and say, "What is this that thou hast done? Verily, it is a foolish thing; return, for we lack thy presence at the board," yet go thou not back. And if thou visitest the house of a friend, and thy cousin happeneth to be in and is seated beside thee, do thou throw thy handkerchief over thy head and sleep, or pretend to sleep; and if thou pretendest to snore, it were perhaps better, though it were doubtful if thou couldst deceive her, for cousins are very sly. And if she essay to lift the corner of thy handkerchief and look upon thee with her eyes, do thou resist stoutly, for it is doing battle in a good cause ;-yet take heed in thy struggle that thou openest not thine eyes, or evil may come upon thee: better let the guileful one take from thee thy handkerchief without resistance than that thire eyes should be opened. And if she faint at any time when thou art near, do thou hasten and call another, in order that all needful assistance may be rendered; but beware that thou goest not thyself, for it may come to pass that it was but a feint to draw thee beside her;-for cousins are exceedingly artful. And if thy cousin singeth exquisite songs at any time, do thou keep time with thy feet, and see that thou doest it loudly, that the noise of the stamping may exceed threefold the noise of the singing.

Should thy father at any time call unto thee and say, "Lo! thy cousin hath not anyone who shall conduct her whither she would go, therefore do thou array thee and depart with her, that she may not be rudely treated by the way;"-if thy father speak thus unto thee, refuse not, but do his bidding; for a son may not refuse his father; but when ye are arrived in the open street, be thou as an adder that heareth not, even as an adder that is deaf--though thy cousin's voice be as musical as the pipe of the charmer, yet be thou not charmed, "charm she never so wisely.” Take heed that thou dost this, lest thy cousin cozen thee; and if a rude man should push against her as ye walk together in the street, even in the street of the city of many men, and thy cousin fall, do not thou smite the man, but bid him raise her; and if he sayeth nay, and passeth on, do thou ask the next wayfarer: but be sure that thou raise her not thyself, least thine eyes meet hers-for it may be that she fell, hoping to rise in thy esteem, even as he of the Horatii retreated to conquerfor cousins are exceedingly artful. And when ye have arrived at the place wherein thy cousin is fain to enter, do thou ring and retire quickly, lest that the good man of the house should call to thee and say, "Tarry thou with us for a while," for, should he speak the speech, thou couldst not say to him nay, seeing that he is thy father's friend. Therefore do thou stand afar off and watch till thy cousin entereth, that thou mayest depart in peace. And should thy father at any time bid thee to banquet, that thou mayest look upon the faces of his friends, peradventure thy cousin will seat herself over against thee, so that thou shalt be constrained to look upon her for cousins are very guileful :-then do thou straightway bid the servingman place the lamp betwixt her and thee, so shall the excessive brightness of the lamp dazzle thine eyes in such a manner that thou shalt not behold her, even though she had seated herself before thee purposely. If there be a vacant seat beside thee

do thou occupy both, so that she come not near; but if she hath already cunningly seated herself beside thee, do thou talk loudly and incessantly with the woman who may be next thee on the other side; and if thy cousin still torment thee, bid the serving-man bring thee wine, and in essaying to reach it do thou spill it all over her in such a manner that she be compelled to retire in manifest discomfiture; thereby wilt thou of a verity overreach the cunning one. It may be that thy father will reprove thee for thine awkwardness. If he do so, apologize;—but should thy cousin venture near thee again, repeat the dose-for after having been administered twice or thrice thou wilt perceive it to be wonderfully efficacious.

When thou art bid to journey with thy cousin into the country round about, do thou carefully overset the vehicle by the wayside, so that she become wofully disfigured with the wet earth. Then mayest thou look upon her without fear; provided always that she is peevish and fretful from the mishap. But if she laugh as if she recked not the mishap, and there be no vexation in her tones or anger in her eye, disregard the injunction, “See that ye fall not out by the way," and take the first opportunity of overturning the vehicle again. And if she still laugh, do thou it again-for, verily, the third time hath never been known to fail. If she ventures with thee into the country after being thrice frightened with prospective dislocations, truly she is more than woman.

Nevertheless, there are times at which thou mayest go in and talk with thy cousin boldly. If the woman who hath the making of her garments, even her garments of muslin and of silk, hath disappointed her grievously, and thou shouldst hear her pacing the apartment hurriedly, and stamping ever and anon with her little foot, as if sorely vexed, then mayest thou venture in and look upon her. But take heed thou doest this cautiously, lest she stop suddenly, and looking upon thee with her eyes, laugh with exceeding great laughter-in which strait, haste thee to shut thine eyes and the door, and depart quickly.

But if at any time thy cousin hath a carious tooth, which causeth her to groan because of the greatness of the pain thereof, thou mayest look upon her then without fear; but even then 'twere better that thou proceedest circumspectly, lest that the artful one and thou are forced to acknowledge in thy tribulation it was a bite devised most cunningly-for cousins are exceedingly guileful. And if thy cousin hath been to a neighbour's house, in the season of festivity with the young men and maidens, until the crowing of the cock, and she returneth home fatigued, jaded, and spiritless, thou mayest then look upon her boldly; nay, further, even speak to her if such is thy desire-but remember that thou neither lookest upon her Lor speakest to her aiter noon-day, for by this time she shall be fully recovered.

Let not these things which have been written fall to the ground. For he who inscribeth these lines had once a cousin; and she was surpassingly beautiful, and her eyes were exceedingly large, and mild, and lustrous. And he who speaketh to thee could read that which was written within them, even as the prophet of old did read the strange characters upon the walls within the banquet-hall of Belshazzar, the king. And he was fain to seat himself beside her, for her voice was soft and low and her words were many and good; and she could discourse most winningly. And he would linger and listen, even as one that is wrapt in woven sounds of sweet music-for verily there is magic in the voice of a cousin, and in her gaze-there is a subtle and dangerous charm. Therefore do thou avoid them.

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