The Notaire was too completely overwhelmed to be angry he admitted to the young man his cruel position. "Very well," said he, "I will get you out of your difficulties: I will go to the theatre, and declare myself your collabarateur; I will look at the piece, and take on myself the responsibility of it; and I engage that I only shall be named." "Then you save me ?" exclaimed the Notaire. "Then," added the young poet, timidly, "there is a way by which we might explain naturally the mistake the papers made in naming you instead of me." "I understand: we may say they mistook the father-in-law for the son-in-law." The marriage is about to take place, if it has not done so already; and, as you may imagine, the piece will never be played. All the shops exhibit most tempting wares, in anticipation of the Jour de l'An. I went the other day to Giroux, where I saw such caskets, such coffres, bronzes, work-boxes, and workbaskets of every form, jardiniere and flowerpots, tables and lamps! And then there are two rooms devoted to children's toys, where it must really be a service of danger to go with children. It seems to me that, for the new year, the French bring out more porte monnaies than any nation can possibly require: this year there is an immense variety. One of the newest I saw was very pretty. It had small medallions, beautifully painted, of different views in Paris. The confiseur shops are very pretty; but they have not yet brought forth all their attractions. Much as I like bon-bons, I confess to prizing far more the pretty baskets, coffres, and boxes they put them in, and which serve so nicely afterwards for one's work, or to stand on a table. Before saying adieu, I will give you the following advertisement, which I think is a treasure. The writer must be a universal genius, and well qualified to undertake the education of young gentlemen : "Isaac Macaire, Barbier, perrutuier, chirugien, clair de la paroisse, mestre d'école, maréchal et accoucheur. "Raze pour un sout, coupe les cheveu pour deux out et vend poudre et paumade aux jeunes demoiou par cartier; les jeunes gentishommes aprène aussi zelles joliment élevées; allume les lampes à l'année leur langue grand mère de la manière la plus propre; on prend grand soin de leurs mœurs et on leur enseigne à épler. Ils apréne à chanter le plein champs et à ferrer les chevaux de main de maître. Il fait et raccomode aussi les bottes et les sous liés, enseigne le hotbois et la guimbarde coupe les corps, seigne et met les vessicatoires au plus bas prix: enseigne aux logis les coutillons et autres danses, et dans toutes set branches; vend toutes sortes de vat en ville; vend en gros et en détail la parfumerie papeteries, cire à décroter, harengs salés, pain et autres confitures; racines cordiales et de goded'épice, berosse à frotter, souricières de fil darchal frais, pommes de terre, sossisses et autres laigumes. N.B. J'anseigne la joggrafy et marschandises étrangeaires, un balle tous les mercredi et vendredi, Dieu aidant, par moi If "Isaak Macaire." you know of any parents desirous of having their sons better, I think, than send them to Mr. Isaak educated in France, they cannot do Macaire. Au revoir, my dear C. Yours most faithfully, P*. OUR CONSERVATORY. MOORE'S FIRST POEM.-"The commencement of my career in rhyming was so very early as to be almost beyond the reach of memory. But the first instance I can recal of any attempt of mine at regular versicles was on a subject which oddly enables me to give the date with tolerable accuracy; the theme of my muse on this occasion having been a certain toy very fashionable about the year 1789 or 1790, called in French a bandalore,' and in English a quiz. To such a ridiculous degree did the fancy for this toy pervade at that time all ranks and ages, that in the public gardens and in the streets numbers of persons, of both sexes, were playing it up and down as they walked along; or, as my own very young doggrel described it:The ladies too, when in the streets, or walking in the GREEN, Went quizzing on, to show their shapes and graceful mien. I have been enabled to mark more certainly the date of this toy's reign from a circumstance mentioned to me by Lord Plunket concerning the Duke of Wellington, who, at the time I am speaking of, was one of the aid-de-camps of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and in the year 1790, according to Lord Plunket's account, must have been a member of the Irish House of Commons. 'I remember,' said Lord Plunket, being on a committee with him; and, it is remarkable enough, Lord Edward Fitzgerald was also one of the members of it. The Duke (then Capt. Wellesley, or Wesley?) was, I recollect, playing with one of those toys called quizzes, the whole time of the sitting of the committee.' This trait of the Duke coincides perfectly with all that I have ever heard about this great man's apparent frivolity at that period of his life. Luttrell, indeed, who is about two years older than the Duke, and who lived on terms of inhas the courage to own, in the face of all the timacy with all the Castle men of those days, on the future fortunes of the young men with Duke's present glory, that often, in speculating whom he lived, he said to himself, in looking at Wellesley's vacant face, 'Well, let who will get on in this world, you certainly will not.' So little promise did there appear at that time of even the most ordinary success in life, in the man who has since accumulated around his name such great and lasting glory." THE YOUNG POET IN LONDON. "The lodging taken for me by my friends, the Mastersons, was a front-room up two pair of stairs, at No. 44, George-street, Portman-square, for which I paid six shillings a-week. That neighbourhood was the chief resort of those poor French emigrants who were then swarming into London; and in the back-room of my floor was an old curé, the head of whose bed was placed téte-à-téte with mine; so that (the partition being very thin) not a snore of his escaped me. I found great convenience, however, in the French eating-houses, which then abounded in that vicinity, and of which their cheapness was the sole attraction. A poor emigrant bishop occupied the floor below me; and as he had many callers and no servant, his resource, in order to save trouble, was having a square board hung up in the hall, on one side of which was written in large characters, The Bishop's at home,' and on the other, 'The Bishop's gone out'; so that callers had but to look up at this placard to know their fate." - Memoirs, Journal, and Correspondence of Thomas Moore. Edited by the Right Hon. Lord John Russell, M.P. RUINS OF AN ANCIENT AND MAGNIFICENT CITY AT TINIAN ISLAND, IN THE NORTH PACIFIC.-Captain Alfred K. Fisher, of this town, informs us that, when on his last whaling voyage, in the ship America, of New Bedford, which was about eight years ago, he had occasion to visit the Island of Tinian, one of the Ladrone Islands, to land some sick men. He stopped there some days. One of his men, in his walks about the island, came to the entrance of the main street of a large and splendid city, in ruins. Captain Fisher, on being informed of the fact, entered the city by the principal street, which was about three miles in length. The buildings were all of stone, of a dark colour, and of the most splendid description. In about the centre of the main street he found twelve solid stone columns, six on each side of the street; they were about forty-five or fifty feet in height, surmounted by cap-stones of immense weight. The columns were ten feet in diameter at the base, and about three feet at the top. Captain F. thinks the columns would weigh about sixty or seventy tons, and the capstones about fifteen tons. One of the columns had fallen, and he had a fine opportunity to view its vast proportions and fine architecture. From the principal street a large number of other streets diverged. They were all straight, and the buildings were of stone. The whole of the city was entirely overgrown with cocoa-nut trees, which were fifty and sixty feet in height. In the main street pieces of common earthenware were found. The island has been in possession of the Spaniards for a long time. Six or seven Spaniards resided on the island when Captain F. was there. They informed him that the Spaniards had had possession about sixty tants. years; that they took the island from the Knackas, who were entirely ignorant of the builders of the city, and of the former inhabiWhen questioned as to the origin of the city, their only answer was, "There must have been a powerful race here a long time ago." Captain F. also saw on the island immense columns had evidently been erected. Some porledges of stone, from which the buildings and tions of them exhibited signs of having been worked. Here is food for speculation. Who in the North Pacific, and what has become of were the founders of this once magnificent city their descendants? Whatever the answer may be, they were evidently a race of a very superior order.-Edgartown (U. S.) Gazette. Anne. And my father? Thorold. Strained Your mother to his breast, till soon their eyes -Anne Blake, by J. Westland Marston. WARNING TO FIDGETTY WIVES.-If anything can justify a man for sometimes thinking of putting away his wife, it is when, despite of continual entreaty and admonition, "she is always putting away his things".-Home Truths for Home Peace. LITERATURE. the most malleable years of life: orphans, or children of estranged parents; dependants on the weak-minded and tyrannical; or pupils of the selfish, the vain, and the worldly. Therefore, let none think that this story is an exceptional history. For a short time little Clarissa is restored to her mother, who, chastened by affliction, has learned to look at life earnestly and meekly, This brief interval comprises the happy period and the best influence of the child's life. Mrs. Donnelly, apart from her idle, vagabond husband, supports herself and Clarissa by embroidery, inculcating the wholesome lessons of industry and self-dependence. The following extract will show how rudely this existence is broken up : That night, after I was in bed, I was awoke by hearing loud voices down stairs, and a great trampling of feet, and soon afterwards a tall brown man, in a rough great coat, came into the sitting-room, and said "Well, Ger., here I am at last! Did you think me lost?" THE HISTORY OF AN ADOPTED CHILD. By Geraldine Endsor Jewsbury, Author of "Marian Withers," "Sorrows of Gentility," &c. &c.-(Grant and Griffith.)- When the helpless are oppressed, their wrongs must be bitter indeed before a voice is found bold enough and loud enough to proclaim them; and the most thoughtful among us are so the creatures of habit, that it is generally a very piercing wail that is required to startle us from our ordinary course. Still it is to be hoped that for some years past the world has suspected that the oldfashioned system of bringing up children was severe and injudicious; and though at the present day we are very far from having attained a method of perfect wisdom, the extreme reign of terror, with all its monstrous influences, has perhaps for the most part passed away. Nevertheless, we heartily concur in the opening words of Miss Jewsbury's preface-" I do not think that children are so happy as it is the fashion to represent them." This is a text that it would be well for mothers and governesses, and maiden aunts, and elder sisters, carefully to ponder, and meanwhile to ask themselves if they habitually treat children with the respect which is due to creatures less soiled by the world, more newly from the hands of the Creator, than themselves? We say "respect" deliberately; for the whole system of mismanagement and misgovernment seems to us to hinge on the want of recognition of a child's rights and individuality. What harmless wishes have been thwarted--what noble aspirations ridiculed - what sparks of truth, struck out from nature's fire heart, quenched--what questions, because_unanswerable, have been harshly rebuked! Indeed the sorrows of the nursery, and of its little broken hearts, would be as mournful a theme as any we can imagine to write about. Mournful not only for the positive suffering to be described, but for its fatal consequences, shown in characters warped aside from truth to falsehood, from fortitude to cowardice, from strength to weak-morrow." ness. With wonderful power, only to be matched by as admirable a simplicity, Miss Jewsbury has in the present volume narrated the history of a child. The autobiographical form lends itself to the subject very happily, and the story begins with the little Clarissa's earliest recollections. The book is indeed a conclusion of the "Sorrows of Gentility," and they who remember the life-like reality of that story will see at a glance that poor Gertrude's child was indeed likely to have strange and bitter experiences of life. At the same time it should be distinctly understood that the present story is complete in itself, enough of the parents' history being related to account for the singular position of the daughter. But there are children to be found by hundreds quite as unhappily placed, tossed about from one protector to another through ened. The servant of the house came to the door, Mamina looked very much hurried, almost frightand said the coachman wanted his money. I don't know how much it is; of course he will "Ah, yes," said the tall man; "pay him, Ger.: overcharge you. But he has brought me from the Custom House, and I have not sixpence left." He flung himself upon the sofa, and seemed quite at home. Mamma gave the servant some money, and then came to me, and took me up, saying-"Come, little girl, come and see your papa." the room uncomfortable already. He hugged me I did not feel at all glad to see him; he had made very much, and hurt my cheeks with his rough filled the room completely up. I thought him very beard; and then his great chest came up stairs, and ugly, and tried to get down off his knee. "Why, what a shy, frightened little thing she is!" said my father. "She is awakened out of her first sleep," replied my mother: "you will be better friends to My mother was busy making up a little bed for me in a corner of the room, and I did not feel at all however, when he was shaved and dressed, I liked glad my father was come home. The next day, him better. He played with me, and talked to me, and I thought him a very funny, good-natured gentleman. It was a beautiful day, and papa said he would go out to take a stroll, and that I should go with him. Mamma at first did not like me to go, but I begged very hard, and the weather was so fine when she looked out, that she dressed me in my best hat, and my worked muslin pelisse, kissed me, and begged papa not to take me too far to tire me: but he said I looked like a little fairy, who could fly when she was tired of walking. He asked mamma if she would not come with us, but she said she was money in it. When we passed beneath the window, very busy. I saw her give him her purse, with I looked up and saw her busy at her work, but she looked down on us and smiled. Papa asked me about what we did, and made me tell him everything. 66 Ah, my dear!" said he, "I hope to see you and your mother riding in your coach, now I am come home, if government does me justice. But mark, you must tell no one that your mamma works for money: it would do her immense injury. I am sorry she feels herself reduced so low; but I shall soon put an end to it." I did not well understand what he meant; but we had reached the water-edge, and he called a boat to take us down to Greenwich. It was the first time I had been on the water, and I need not say how delightful it was. We walked in the park at Greenwich, under the fine old Spanish chestnuttrces, and the sun shone through the clear, transparent green leaves-for it was the latter end of May, when they are still young. It was the first time I had ever taken notice of what I saw, and I cannot describe the feeling that came into my heart when I looked at the beautiful spectacle of the sunshine dancing through the trees upon the grass, and felt the sweet air blowing round me, and the soft moss, and the large white clouds sailing about the blue sky. I wished to be ever so much bigger, that I might enjoy it all; for there seemed to be so much more than I could take in. I wanted mamina: she would have known all I felt. We went to an inn to dine, into a room with a large bow window overhanging the river. I never had so many nice things to eat in my life; lite tiny fishes that looked like fairies-white-bait" papa called them—and all sorts of good things. Besides, pape made me taste everything, and seemed amused to watch me. I wished very much to take something home to mamma, but he said that would not be ladylike. Whilst we were dining, a party of gentlemen came into the room and sat down to another table. Papa knew them, and they seemed very glad and surprised to see him. They made him join their party. They took a great deal of notice of me, and said how pretty I was. Papa told them I had been living with my grandfather, who was very rich, and would leave a pretty fortune when he died. I shook my head when I heard this, and said, "Ah, no, Simon Morley does not like to give his money." They all laughed at this, and declared I was very witty; but I had heard Mary Rivers say so before. My father made all the gentlemen laugh very much at his stories, but I did not understand them, and began to grow very tired of sitting to see wine drank. At last we went out to stroll through the town. As we passed a toy-shop, one of the gentlemen went in, and bought a beautiful cut-glass smelling-bottle, with a silver top, which he gave me. When we returned home, pupa told inamina he had met with some old friends, influential persons, who would help him to obtain something from government. I thought that I should have a great deal to tell her too; but I was very sick and poorly, and had to lie in bed with a headache all the next day. Mamma gave me camomile tea, like the little boy who eat too much plum-cake, in Mrs. Barbauld's story-book. My father had been to Africa with the governor of some island, and had been sent home with despatches on account of his health, he said; and he was in hopes of getting an island to govern, all to himself. He was not much at home; he went out nearly every day to breakfasts, or dinners, or water-parties. He never took mamma with him: she had to work very hard, for my father always wanted money when he went out, I did not know then the harm she was doing her health by sitting day after day over her work, and never going out. The description of the mother's death, and the child's anguish, is painfully real; but we are not professing to follow the thread of the story. After some vicissitudes, the child is adopted by a good-hearted but somewhat eccentric lady, and a new set of childish sorrows results. Many a heart will sympathise with the following trial: I was between nine and ten years old when I first went to Miss Archer, but tall and well-grown for my age. Those who had known my mother always said I was very like her; only, instead of having golden hair like hers, mine was jet black. I had dark blue eyes, and long black eyelashes, coming quite upon my cheek when I closed them. I had also a beautiful complexion, like my mother's, which, as I have said, struck me so much the first time I saw her. I had grown so much accustomed to hearing strangers remark me as a beautiful child, that I took it quite as a matter of course; but I do not think, in those days, that I was vain about it, because it had never made anybody kind to me. The morning after we had made our appearance at church, Miss Archer expected visitors, and prepared to receive them. Nokes dressed me betimes in my best-worked white frock and black sash, and I was bid to sit down on a little stool by the fire-place, beside Miss Archer. A tray of refreshments, consisting of wine and cake, was set out upon the table, and Miss Archer took up some knitting. We had only just taken our places, when the first visitor was announced. It was Miss Prudamore, who had the reputation of being a most superior woman; but I took a great dislike to her from the first. She had a sententious, sentimental way of speaking, and shook her head at the end of every sentence, to give it an unction. was told to get up and shake hands with her, and Miss Archer told her that she had adopted me, in order that she might have something to love her. I "Ah!" said Miss Prudamore-"how much better than wasting your affections on cats and dogs! I often wonder that women of fortune, who are without domestic ties,.do not oftener adopt this course; so much good might be effected. Of course you will educate her to earn her own living when she grows up?" Miss Archer replied she had not thought about it. "But," rejoined the other, "unless you intend to give her a fortune, it will be quite false kindness to bring her up in comfort and expectations. I know what reverses are, and how hardly they are felt, unless a child be taught to forbode them. You should prepare her betimes to meet with thorny paths." "Oh, good gracious!" said Miss Archer; "I am sure I hope she will never meet with any. I only wish to make the dear child happy, and to teach her to love me. 19 Miss Prudamore shook her head, and sighed. "Ah! how little I ever expected to be in my present position! You should bring her up with chastened hopes." An elderly lady, in a magnificent flowered shawl, and thick gold chain, and whose voice was like that of a cat calling her kittens, looked at me through her eye-glass, and said, "So that is the little girl you have adopted. I hope she will be very good, 66 A tall spare lady, dressed in black, was the next arrival; and after a few words of general conversation, she turned her hard, grey eyes upon me, and said, I suppose that is the little stranger I have heard about?" (Again I had to stand up and submit to be kissed, and have my shoulders patted.) "It is a truly generous deed of you, Miss Archer, to adopt the orphan. I hope she will arise and call you blessed.' Has she any sense of divine things?" "She seems to have been brought up with strange, superstitious notions." Whereupon, Miss Archer repeated what had passed the night before. "Ah, well! we must not despise the day of small things: it is well that she has been taught to think seriously at all." Then opening her black silk bag, she took out a little penny book, called "Happy Mary," which she gave me. I began to read it directly; but it was very stupid-all about a good little girl, who died when she was four years old. Several other visitors came in, to all of whom I was introduced, and made to shake hands with them. I cannot express what I suffered. If Miss Archer had taken off my frock, and undressed me before them all, I do not think I should have felt so strangely pained and ashamed. At last, one lady compassionately said, "I think that little girl looks as if she would like to go and play in the garden this fine day-would you not, my dear?" I said yes; and Miss Archer told me to go. I was very thankful to get away, but it was a long time before I overcame the recollection of that morning. I dreaded the sight of a visitor, and ran away and hid myself whenever I could. 66 Miss Archer really intended to be very kind to me, but she set herself so systematically to make me love her," that out of contradiction, I suppose, I did not love her half so much as would have come quite naturally if she had let me more alone. She teased me with caresses when I wanted to go and play; and then, if ever I did shew more warmth or affection than ordinary, she was sure to boast of it the next day to her visitors: and if ever I told her anything in childish confidence, she would in my hearing, and before my face, make a history of it, and repeat it as if it had been a tale. Of course they were not real secrets, only childish matters; still it hurt me very much to hear them repeated to persons to whom I would not have told them on any account. Oh, that betrayal of childish confidence! How many young hearts have hardened and closed beneath it! But the association with Miss Archer is not a lasting one. Poor Clarissa has to accept the protection of her hateful Aunt Donnelly, and is introduced to stark poverty under the mask of family pride. There is considerable humour evinced in the description of Miss Donnelly's home, but the scene is too sad wholly to laugh at. After many trials, Clarissa becomes a governess without a salary, and finally, as apparently, but not really, the lowest point of fortune-a lady's maid. Á happy mar riage at five-and-twenty is the denouement ; but while the work points a stern moral to those who have the care of children, it also brings consolation to youthful readers, showing as it does, that false pride, and false appearances, must ever be stumbling-blocks in the road to happiness or good fortune; and that it is by doing our duty in simple good faith, by bowing in a Christian spirit to sorrows that are irremediable-not contending angrily with troubles and trials-that peace and content are to be won. We have only space to add, that though "The History of An Adopted Child" may to some readers appear the least pretentious of Geraldine for nobility of purpose, for simple nervous Jewsbury's books, we are inclined to think, that writing, and fine artistic construction, it is one of the most valuable works of the day. OLDER AND WISER, OR STEPS INTO LIFE. A Sequel to "The Amyotts' Home." By the author of "The Amyotts' Home," &c. (Groombridge and Sons.)-A very nice tale for young people, written in an intelligent and To those who know "The genial spirit. Amyotts' Home," any commendation of the right tone and healthy moral atmosphere of the sequel must be quite unnecessary. It will make a most appropriate and pleasant Christmas gift. THE GREENHOUSE: its Construction and Management popularly treated.-Groombridge and Sons.)-This little book is one of a series of "Farm and Garden Essays," and contains much useful information on the subject of which it professes to treat. Cowper tells us "Who loves a garden, loves a greenhouse too." We should think both garden and greenhouse amateurs will appreciate the "Farm and Garden Essays." PRACTICAL HINTS TO SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHERS. By Richard Yeld.-(Groombridge and Sons.)-A useful tract, which, if it contain nothing new, will at least command attention from the importance of its title. Its size renders it a convenient thing for distribution, but the larger treatises of Mrs. Davies, Lloyd, and Collins should be studied by every Sunday School Teacher. Mrs. Yeld's little publication is not, we imagine, intended to supersede, but to accompany these more important works. A CYCLOPÆDIA OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS. By H. G. Adams, author of "Favourite Song-Birds," &c.-(Groombridge and Sons.)-A publication involving a great amount of labour and research, whose end we do not exactly see, as a complete concordance to the Poets is almost an impossibility. But we suppose it may be useful to authors wanting mottoes, and to persons who wish to ascertain the authorship of well-known quotations. Considerable taste is shown in the choice of the selected passages, which taste we cannot but think Mr. Adams might have better devoted to some more useful object. |