"I lost no time in finding him a doctor," pursued the pale young man, "and we came here together with all speed. Lili was pronounced to be taken with scarlatina; but the doctor thought there was no danger, left her some medicine, and went away, promising to call again in the evening. For four days and nights Monet never quitted the child's couch, never closed an eye, and would probably have died of starvation, had we not forced him to eat. At length the crisis was passed, and the little girl was saved. Monet, beside himself with joy, rolled her up in a blanket, and carried her about the room with her head on his shoulder, telling her little stories, and singing her every little song he could think of. Towards dusk I persuaded him to put her again into bed under the care of a good nurse we had found for him, and who would take every care of her, and dragged him out for a turn in the fresh air. The sharp breeze seemed to excite him; he walked rapidly, talked incessantly, and appeared unable to contain his exuberant joy. 'As soon as Lili is a little stronger,' said he, I will take her into Normandy, to my good Aunt Jacqueline's, at Gouais. The country air and the fresh milk will set her up directly. My good aunt, though I have not visited her for some years, will be glad enough to see us; for she was always very fond of me, and looked upon me as one of her own children. Allons! c'est ça! I will take my little Lili to her, and the brave woman will love her as she used to love her father in his childhood.' "Just then we happened to be passing along the quay by the Pont Neuf, and Le espied this doll in a toy-shop What a beautiful doll!' cried Monet, I must go in and buy it for Lili. You will see how delighted she will be! We will call it Jacqueline, after my good aunt; Ma'amzelle Jacqueline!' "The doll was bought forthwith; and so impatient was he to give it to his little girl, that I could not persuade him to continue his walk, and he ran off to his home at once. 'If I go back directly, may be in time to give it to her before she goes to sleep,' said he, as he left me. "The next day, when I entered his room, Lili was setting in her little chair by the fire, holding her beautiful doll on her lap. But I did not like her look. Her face was pale and haggard, her eyes were heavy, her skin yellow and flabby; I felt startled at the change, but I could not bear to damp Monet's joy by impart ing my fears to him. Presently the doll fell from Lili's hand, and her head drooped on the back of her chair. Her father took her in his arins and walked up and down the room with her, singing to her, and trying to rouse and amuse her But she was weak and in pain; evidently ill. Monet was distracted. The doctor was sent for immediately. They had taken her too soon out of her bed; she had caught cold; and two days afterwards, when I came in here, a little corpse was lying in Lili's bed, with the doll beside her. The two little faces seemed to be smiling at each other; but one of them was as white as the pillow on which it lay. Monet had thrown himself across his graving table, where he lay quite still, weeping, and gnawing his handkerchief in a sort of stupor of sorrow. His grief was terrible. We did all we could to comfort him, but in vain, for he had lost everything in losing his child. "He purchased a grave in the Cemetery of Mont Martre, and the little girl was buried there; and he worked day and night to pay for it, talking of Lili for hours together to the doll, which always stood before him on his table as he worked; and the doll, with her bright, staring eyes, seemed to listen to him as he talked to her of his lost darling. "His sole aim in life appeared to be the payment for that bit of ground, and the expenses of the funeral. When this had been accomplished, he laid down his burin; he seemed to have no idea of selfpreservation left, his thoughts were with his child, and he spent his days in nurs ing Ma'amzelle Jacqueline, and talking to her of what they were going to do. "One day Varin came in, bringing him some copper-plates, which he told him he was in a great hurry to have finished. Monet began to dance Ma'amzelle Jacqueline up and down on his knee, and said to her.-'Tell him we are not going if we would shrink from the idea of abanto do any more work for anybody. All is doning what was intended for a garden of paid for, and we are going to Normandy, fruitfulness and beauty, to the growth of rank and ungrateful weeds, we must lose and we shall play in the churchyard at no time, but begin at once to occupy the Gouais, and that is better than engrav-ground and lay down our plans. ing.' Varin was very angry at getting no answer. He gathered up his plates, called him a fool, and went off in a pas sion. "After this." continued the pale young man, "you will hardly need to be told the sequel. A few days afterwards, when we had taken him to our hotel, where we had used to get him to dine with us, he was seized with a fit of raving madness, and we could nothing more than send him to a suitable asylum. Poor Monet! Everything was done for him that could be done; but it was all in vain. One day, as I was going in with a friend to see him as usual, two of the infirmary servants met us, carrying a long, narrow, deal box, that was about to figure in a pauper funeral. The corpse of poor Lili's father was in that box. We had fortunately arrived there in time to take possession of the body, which we had buried beside that of his little daughter. "You see, Monsieur," he added, as he turned away his head to wipe away a tear, "the history you have asked for is a very simple one." An hour or two afterwards, when the greater part of the things had been disposed of, Ma'amzelle Jacqueline was put up for sale amidst the jokes and laughter of the assembled crowd; and, after a solitary bid of ten sous by a little girl, whose pecuniary resources probably did not admit of her going any higher, was knocked down at one frauc to a pale young man with whitey-brown whiskers and seedy paletot. PURPOSE IN LIFE. IN order to the accomplishment of any noble purpose, it is necessary to have a carefully-laid plan, for a rambling and desultory application, even with a virtuous intent, will prove altogether inadequate. It is a poetical assertion that "life without a plan serves merely as a soil for discontent to thrive in," and of the justness of this assertion the proofs abound. But Some point in view, some fixed object of pursuit, is a spur to the energies, and where that point in view is something really great and good, the influence it exerts is sufficient to inspire courage, and sustain the concentration of the powers requisite for its attainment. And, more than this, the influence of that great and good object upon which the mental eye is fixed, imparts to life a zest and earnestness which those who pass an aimless existence can neither understand nor appreciate. Yet this is no forced or fancied representat on, but a plain statement of the contrasts of character arising from the presence or absence of an object, a plan, a noble motive, and a high resolve. May we never want these, and then we may give melancholy comp'ainings to the winds, for we shall find that life is too short and to precious to spare any part of it for anything but its important work. LILY H. OUR VOLUNTEERS. WHO could witness the assembling of so many thousands of our fellow-countrymen as appeared in Brighton on Easter Monday, and not feel emotions of pride and joy in beholding that vast rumber of brave and gallant men, ready, voluntarily, to devote their time, their energies, their lives to the service of their Queen and country, willing at any moment, if required, to put forth their strength in the protection of their native land such a scene must surely have awakened a glow of patriotic feeling in the coldest breast, while those possessed of warm and loyal hearts would feel them beating high with pleasure and enthusiasm as they gazed on the long line of soldierly forms, in their various dresses, gaily marching though the town, their nodding plumes keeping time to the music. The "Queen of the South" is honoured by the preference shown her above all other localities; and certainly all who are acquainted with her domains must acknowledge that there could not be found in England, a fitter spot for a meeting of our noble volunteers than the sweet vallies of the South Downs. And what of the volunteers them 500 DIARIES.-TO THE READERS OF THE "FAMILY FRIEND." selves? Doubtless to most of them it was far from being a day of unalloyed pleasure. In all probability they would encounter many vexations and annoyances, and on returning to their homes would feel weary with fatigue and excitement; but then, as soldiers, they are of course willing to endure what ever hardships and privations they may meet with, finding compensation for all trials of the kind in the delight of forming so noble a band, in listening to the praises of a nation, in the gratitude of a good and loving sovereign, and last, though not least, in the approval of their own hearts, which prompt them to become the protectors and defenders of their homes and families, even at the sacrifice of their own lives. Long may they continue thus to form a gallant army;, but we pray that the time may be far, very far distant, when their courage, perseverance, and zeal shall be put to the test. We would wish that all their battles might be as bloodless as that fought on the 5th of April, but should ever the day come when they would be summoned to take part in a more serious contest, may they not be found wanting in that skill and bravery of which they now give fair promise; may they not disappoint the expectations of those who rely upon them for assistance in the hour of danger! KATRINE. DIARIES. HAVING for many years kept a diary, and having found it useful in more ways than one, I am induced to recommend the practice to those who have never tried it. Its use as a remembrancer is obvious. A good memory is not everybody's property, but a diary, which is often an efficient substitute, is within the reach of all, and if regularly written up each evening or morning demands but little time or trouble. The entry in a diary is authoritative, where a mere recollection might be disputed; and I believe it is admitted as evidence in law, as we sometimes read of cases in which an appeal is made to its pages. When some years have passed, with the changes that time never fails to bring, there is a peculiar pleasure in looking over the leaves of an old diary, recalling scenes and incidents which had nearly passed from the memory, but which spring again into being as we glance over the record. However slender the outline, it serves to recall the events, and memory finds then little difficulty in filling up the sketch. It may be, indeed, that there is something sad in many of these resuscitations; but it is undoubtedly true that their is a pleasure in sadness where the cause is remote, where the degree is slight, and where it can be dismissed from the mind if desired. But, besides being a record of events useful for reference and interesting to look back upon, I have often thought that one benefit of keeping a diary is the influence it exercises over one's daily doings. If it faithfully records, as it should, whatever we do, it is sometimes a salutary check upon our actions to remember that they must be set down that evening in black and white; and the sense of waste of time is rarely stronger than when, pen in hand, we can recall nothing worthy of record among the occupations of the day. There is a feeling akin to that of the emperor of old when he exclaimed, "I have lost a day." It impresses one with the want of results when the doings of many hours will not fill a few lines, while it is a real source of satisfaction when we note the successful accomplishment of some useful object, or some worthy project pushed on nearer to its end. GORGONIA. ADDRESS TO THE READERS OF, AND CONTRIBUTORS TO "THE FAMILY FRIEND." YE friends, who monthly strew thy pages o'er, With rich effusionsof intrinsic lore And lyrist too, with soul-enchanting air, Thy aid within each fertile mind to store With every virtuous feeling of the heart, Our little favourite, "The Family Friend." IAGO. TO LUCINDA B. ours; he enters the heart swiftly and subSISTER Lucinda, vain shall verse of mine,tlely, rouses the passions into fierce and Accord due thanks for sympathy like thine; deadly combat, and then leaves them to a I little dream'd my pensive thoughts would long and fierce struggle such A chord of feeling in thy bosom touch,That thou would'st vouch thy heart's goodwill to bless Thy love and prayers to lighten my dis tress. Had I thy warbling tongue, thy plastic pen, But now words fail me, so at loss I plead, A THOUGHT. LILY H. "The fruit of sin, goodly and fair to view, WORD PICTURES. SOME words express volumes. Life, the mind's eye, pictures strength, and hope, and will; work and pleasure, study and relaxation, joy and grief, anger and strife, scenes of quiet and bustle, of peace and of battle, of tempest and calm, of heroism and cowardice-moving pictures "by flood and field." Love, there is portrayed its joys and its sorrows, its blisses and cares; its tumults of sorrow and fever of happiness; its constant, unvarying, unquenchable, mutual flame-in short, SIN is to the soul what a virulent disease is to the body, which, if not eradicated in its infancy, will gradually spread till every part be poisoned, and all hope of cure "Two minds with but a single thought, be despaired of; so sin, if not baffled with, Two hearts that beat as one." will imperceptibly effect its empire over Death-and we think of a dim and unthe soul, till suddenly we awake to remorseful feelings, and find ourselves in reflecting eye, a chilly coldness over the possession of a corruptible instead of the once warm frame, a mind untroubled by uncorruptible crown" which we so ear-all the petty cares of life, by all its joys; nestly desire to possess. None can be sinless; directly we enter this world, the seeds of good and bad are engendered in us, consequent on the fall of our first parents, who, for one disloyal act, covered their numerous progeny with thousands of blemishes of which they cannot rid themselves. Sin is the one enemy that destroys the peace that might otherwise be closed lips that return no pressure to those of the loved ones; a stilled heart, and a pulse that has ceased to beat; the tongue that charmed with its eloquence is still, the mind that enchanted with its thoughts can think no more; and the soul is released from its earthly thraldom, and has flownwhither? Only the All-Judge can tell. ZANONI. A GOSSIP ABOUT BELLS. BELLS are of great antiquity. Small large bells now used in churches are said gold bells are mentioned as ornaments to have been invented by Paulinus, bishop worn upon the hem of the high priest's of Nola, in Campania, about the year A.D. robe, in Exodus, chapter xxviii.; and 400. They were probably introduced into Calmet says that they were worn in the England soon after their invention. They same manner by the kings of Persia. The are first mentioned by Bede, about Greeks used handbells in camps and gar- the close of the seventh century. It has risons. At certain hours of the night, been supposed the curfew (cover-fire) bell, patrols went round the camp and visited introduced by William the Conqueror, the sentinels; and, to try if any were was imposed upon the English people as Some, however, asleep, a little bell was rung, the sound of a badge of servitude. which the soldiers were expected to believe it only to have been intended as a answer. Plutarch mentions bells, and it precaution against fires, which were then is well known that they were in domestic very frequent, the houses at that period use among the Roman people; but the being wholly built of wood. The passing bell was so named because it was rung when any one was passing from life. Hence it was sometimes called the soulbell, and was rung that those who heard it might pray for the person dying, and who was not yet dead. A writer who flourished about the end of the twelfth century tell us--"When any one is dying, bells must be tolled, that the people may put up their prayers, twice for a woman, and thrice for a man: if for a clergyman, as many times as he had orders, and at the conclusion a peal on the bells, to distinguish the quality of the person for whom the people are to put up their prayers." In the narrative of the last moments of the Lady Catherine (sister of Lady Jane) Grey, who died a prisoner in 1567, Sir Owen Hopton, constable of the Tower, the Tower, "perceiving her end near, said to Mr. Bockeham, were it not best to send to the church, that the bell may be rung; and she herself hearing him, said, 'Good Sir Owen, be it so,'" and almost immediately died. The tolling of the passing-bell continued down to the time of Charles II.; but there seems now to be nothing more intended in tolling it than to inform the neighbourhood that a death has taken place. Ringing of bells is said to be a practice peculiar to England. In this art, however, it is by some persons considered that melody has seldom been studied. Weever, in his work on "Funeral Monuments," says "In the little sanctuary at Westminster, King Edward the Third erected a clochier, and placed therein three bells for the use of St. Stephen's Chapel. About the biggest of them were cast in the metal in these words: "King Edward made mee thirty thousand weight and three, Take me down and wey mee, and more you shall find me." But these bells being taken down in the reign of Henry the Eighth, one writes underneath with a coal: "But Henry the Eight Will bate me of my weight." a clochier, in which were four bells, called "Jesus's Bells," the greatest in all England, against which Sir Miles Partridge staked an hundred pounds, and won thein of Henry the Eighth, at a cast of the dice. Warner, in his "History of Hampshire," enumerates the virtues of a bell, by translating the lines from the "Helpe to Discourse:" "Men's deaths I tell by doleful knell; Four of the bells of the ancient Abbey of Hexham were dedicated or baptised; and although the old bells no longer exist, the legends upon the whole six have been preserved, and a free translation given by Mr. Wright, as follows:— "1. Even at out earliest sound, The light of God is spread around. Ocean, earth, and air rejoice. 4. Till time on ruin's nap shall nod, John shall sound the praise of God. 6. Be mine to chant Jehovah's fame, These legends on bells were not uncommou. The Rev. W. C. Lukis, in his "Notices on Church Bells," gives the following instances: At Aldbourne, on the first bell, we read-"The gift of Jos. Pizzie and Wm. Gwynn. "Music and ringing we like so well, And for this reason we give this bell." On the fourth bell is "Humphrey Symsin gave xx pound to buy this bell, And the parish gave xx more to make this ring go well." A not uncommon epigraph is "Come when I call At Chilton Foliott, on the tenor, is"Into the church the living I call, And to the grave I summon all. Attend the instruction which I give, That so you may for ever live," This last distich alludes to a fact mentioned by Stowe, in his "Survey of London," that near to St. Paul's School stood is At Devizes, St. Mary, on the first bell, |