The young men of Rumford in her had their joy; She showed herself courteous but never too coy; And at their commandment still would she be, Yet ever they honored the pretty Bessie.

Four suitors at once unto her did go ;

They craved her favor, but still she said "No,
I would not wish gentles to marry with me."
Yet ever they honored the pretty Bessie.

The first of them was a gallant young knight,
And he came unto her disguised in the night;
The second a gentleman of good degree,
Who woo'd and sued for pretty Bessie.

A merchant of London, whose wealth was not smal!,
Was then the third suitor and proper withal;
Her master's own son the fourth man must be,
Who swore he would die for pretty Bessie.

"And if thou wilt marry with me," quoth the knight,
"I'll make thee a lady with joy and delight;
My heart's so enthrall'd by thy fair beauty,
Then grant me thy favor, my pretty Bessie."
The gentleman said, "Come marry with me,
In silks and in velvets my Bessie shall be;
My heart lives distressed, O hear me," quoth he,
"And grant me thy love, my pretty Bessie."

"Let me by thy husband," the merchant did say,
Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay;
My ships shall bring home rich jewels for thee,
And I will for ever love pretty Bessie."

Then Bessie she sighed, and thus she did say,
"My father and mother I mean to obey ;
First, get their good will, and be faithful to me,
And you shall enjoy your pretty Bessie."

To every one this answer she made,
Wherefore unto her they joyfully said:
"This thing to fulfil we all do agree;

But where dwells thy father, my pretty Bessie?"

"My father," quoth she, " is plain to be seen, The silly blind beggar of Bethnal Green, That daily sits begging for charity,

He is the good father of pretty Bessie.

"His marks and his tokens are known full well,

He always is led with a dog and a bell;

A silly old man, God knoweth is he,

Yet he is the father of pretty Bessie."

"Nay, then," quoth the merchant, "thou art not for me," "Nor," quoth the innholder, " my wife shall not be." "I loath," says the gentle," a beggar's degree, And therefore adien, my pretty Bessie."

"And then if my gold will better her birth,
And equal the gold that you lay on the earth,
Then neither rail nor grudge you to see
The blind beggar's daughter a lady to be.

"But first I will hear and have it well known,
The gold that you drop shall be all your own."
With that they replied, "Contented we be ;"
"Then, here's," quote the beggar, " for pretty Bessie."

With that an angel he cast on the ground,

And dropped in angels full three thousand pound;
And oftentimes it was proved most plain,

For the gentleman's one the beggar dropped twain.

So as the place wherein they did sit,
With gold it was covered, every whit;
The gentleman then, having dropped all his store,
Said, "Now, beggar hold, for I have no more."

"Thou hast fulfilled thy promise aright;
Then marry," quoth he, " my girl to the knight.
And here," quoth he, "I will now throw you down
A hundred pounds more to buy her a gown."

The gentlemen all that this treasure had seen,
Admired the beggar of Bethnal Green;
And those that were his suitors before,
Their flesh for very anger they tore.

Thus was this Bessie matched to a knight,
And made a lady in other's despite :

A fairer lady there never was seen,

Than the blind beggar's daughter of Bethnal Green.

But of her sumptuous marriage and feast,
What brave lords and knights thither were pressed;
The second part shall set forth to your sight,
With marvellous pleasure and wished delight.

PART II.

Of a blind beggar's daughter, most fair and bright,
That late was betrothed unto a young knight;
All the discourse thereof you may see;
But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessie.

Within a gallant palace most brave, Adorned with all the cost they could have, This wedding was kept most sumptuously, And all for the love of pretty Bessie.

All kinds of dainties and delicacies sweet
Were brought to this banquet, as was thought meet;
Partridge and plover, and venison most free,
Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessie.

This wedding thro' England was spread, by report,

So that a great number did thither resort
Of nobles and gentles in every degree;
And all for the fame of pretty Bessie.

To church then went this gallant young knight; His bride followed after, a lady most bright, With troops of ladies, the like ne'er was seen, As went with sweet Bessie of Bethnal Green.

This marriage being solemnized then,
With music performed by the skilfallest men:
The nobles and gentles sat down at that tide,
Each one beholding the beautiful bride.

But, after the sumptuous dinner was done,
To talk, and to reason a number begun :
To talk of the blind beggar's daughter most bright,
And what with his daughter he gave to the knight.

Then spake the nobles, "Much marvel have we,

The jolly blind beggar we cannot here see."

"My lords," quoth the bride," my father's so base,

He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace."

"The praise of a woman in question to bring Before her own face were a flattering thing; Yet we think thy father's baseness," quoth they, "Might by thy beauty be put clean away."

They had no sooner these pleasant words spoke,
But in comes the beggar clad in a silk cloak;
A fair velvet cap and a feather had he;
And now a musician forsooth would he be.

He had a dainty lute under his arm,

He touched the strings, which made such a charm,
Said, "Please you to hear any music of me,
A song I will sing you of pretty Bessie."

With that his lute he twanged straightway,
And thereon began most sweetly to play :

And after that lessons were played two or three,
He strained out this song most delicately.

"A poor beggar's daughter did dwell on a green,
Who for her beauty might well be a queen :
A blithe bonny lass and dainty was she,
And many one called her pretty Bessie.

"Her father he had no goods nor no lands,
But begged for a penny all day with his hands;
And yet for her marriage he gave thousands three,
And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessie.

"And if any one her birth do disdain,

Her father is ready, with might and with main, To prove she is come of a noble degree; Therefore let none flout at my pretty Bessie."

With that the lords and company round
With hearty laughter were ready to swoon;
At last said the lords, "Full well.we may see,
The bride and the beggar's beholden to thee."

With that the bride all blushing did rise, With the fair water all in her bright eyes; "Pardon my father, grave nobles," quoth she, "That through blind affection thus doateth on me."

"If this be thy father," the nobles did say, "Well may he be proud of this happy day; Yet by his countenance well may we see, His birth with his fortune did never agree;

"And therefore, blind beggar, we pray thee bewray, (And look that the truth to us thou do say) Thy birth and thy parentage, what it may be, For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessie."

"Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one,
A song more to sing, and then I'll begone,
And if that I do not win your good report,
Then do not give me a groat for my sport.

"Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shall be ;
Once chief of all the great barons was he,
Yet fortune so cruel this lord did abase,
Now lost and forgotten are he and his race.

"When the barons in arms did King Henry oppose,
Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose;
A leader of courage, undaunted was he,
And oft-times he made their enemies flee.

"At length in the battle on Eveshame plain
The barons were routed, and Montfort was slain ;
Most fatal that battle did prove unto thee,
Though thou wast not born then, my pretty Bessie!

"Along with the nobles, that fell at that tide, His eldest son Henry, who fought by his side, Was fell'd by a blow, he received in the fight; A blow that deprived him for ever of sight.

"Among the dead bodies all lifeless he lay, 'Till evening drew on of the following day, When by a young lady discovered was he; And this was thy mother, my pretty Bessie.

"A baron's fair daughter stepped forth in the night,
To search for her father who fell in the fight,
And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he lay,
Was moved with pity and brought him away.

"In secret she nursed him, and 'suaged his pain,
While he through the realm was believed to be slain :
At length his fair bride she consented to be,
And made him glad father of pretty Bessie.

"And now lest our foes our lives should betray,

We clothed ourselves in beggar's array;
Her jewels she sold, and hither came we :
All our comfort and care was pretty Bessie.

"And here have we lived in fortune's despite.
Though poor, yet contented with humble delight;
Full forty winters thus have I been

A silly blind beggar of Bethnal Green.

"And here, noble lords, is ended the song

Of one, that once to your own rank did belog;
And thus have you learned a secret from me,
That ne'er had been known but for pretty Bessie."

Now when the fair company every one

Had heard the strange tale in the song he had shown,
They all were amazed, as well they might be,
Both at the blind beggar, and the pretty Bessie.

With that the fair bride they all did embrace, Saying, "Sure thou art come of an honorable race, Thy father likewise is of noble degree,

And thou art well worthy a lady to be."

Thus was the feast ended with joy and delight,

A bridegroom most happy was the young knight, In joy and felicity long lived he,

All with his fair lady, the pretty Bessie.

SERVANTS AND MISTRESSES. "Maria," said a lady to a colored chambermaid, "that is the third silk dress you have worn since you came to me; pray, how many do you own?'' "Only seven, miss; but I's saving my wages to buy another." "Seven? What use are seven silk dresses to you? Why, I don't own so many as that." Specs not, miss," said the smiling darkey; "you doesn't need 'em so much as I does. You quality white folks every body knows is quality; but we bettermost kind ob colored pussons has to dress smart to 'stinguish ourselves from common niggers." So, critics, who denounce the present extravagant style of dress, be lenient! and when the paraphernalia of hoops and flounces, silks, velvets and laces is very astounding, think-Well, poor things! they must do something to 'stinguish themselves from common folks.

THE ACTION OF CHLOROFORM ON THE BLOOD.- Dr. C. T. Jackson says, "Chlorc form consists of one equivalent of formyle and three of oxygen. When chloroform is inhaled into the lugs, the oxygen is abstracted from the blood, and combining with the formyle, makes formic acid, while chlorine combines with the blood as a substitute for oxygen. Thus a portion of the blood becomes chemically changed, disorganised and rendered unfit for its vital functions." He further says, "I have now a phial of this blood (blood taken from a young lady killed by the inhalation of pure chloroform) before me, it having been kept in my office, exposed to temperatures from the freezing point to above eighty degrees for more than six years, and yet it has not decomposed, nor has a single blood-globule settled to the bottom of the phial, nor has the color changed in the least."

THE HON. MRS. YELVERTON ON MASCULINE ATTRACTIONS.— —" I think," said I, "all large, clumsy men have great hearts, little sensitiveness, astuteness or perception; great solid creatures with an immense capacity for affection, but little of the small artifices and delicate subtleties which usually win it. Cupid makes up to them in quantity for what he stints them in quality. Nine times out of ten, if a maid have two lovers, one six feet odd and the other under six feet (advantages mutual), the lesser would win her; but it would be the reverse if he was too little or effeminate, for a woman is apt to despise all that too much resembles herself; from five feet eight to eleven is the dangerous height, most wicked, most captivating, most intellectual, and most power."

"What is the profanation, Nelly?" asked her brother. "You remember that gem of a cottage at the foot of the Clearspring Lane?" continued Eleanor.

"I saw it yesterday," he replied, "and found it one of the few things the taste for improvement has left unaltered. The creeper still clings to the walls; the white rosebush is as full of buds the elms meet over the door in the same arch as when you, Agnes, our poor dead Raymond, and I, frolicked upon the broad step, and kind nurse Martin sat in the porch with her knitting-work."

"How tiresome and odd you are, Wilson !" interrupted his sister. "What pleasure you can have in perpetually running back to those old times which everybody but yourself has forgotten, I cannot divine. I am in a literal, not a sentimental mood, to-day. I have no particularly tender associations connected with your cottage; but it is seen from the drawing-room windows, and taste can desire no more picturesque object to close the shady lane than its thatched roof and ivy-covered walls. Imagine the tap of a shoemaker's hammer ringing up to the house on still summer evenings, and the odor of leather, cabbage and onions regaling our senses, when the wind blows from that quarter! As your memory is so tenacious of past events, you may recollect that it was the fashion once to form parties to visit nurse Martin's strawberry garden, and the praises that her clean house and pleasing manners elicited. Now I shall never dare to take a friend there again for fear of the apparition of a vulgar man in his shirt-sleeves, apron on, and last in hand, and a slovenly woman, standing arms akimbo, and mouth open, to stare at the 'quality.''

"I begin to understand," said Wilton. "Pride is alarmed that a shoemaker has got between the wind and our gentility; and one of his craft is not a very dignified appendage to Lisle Villa. However, I have seldom seen a handsomer or more intelligent man than this same shoemaker, or a prettier woman than his bonny bride. I was passing the cottage yesterday morning before you were up, when I heard singing. The door was open, and a young man, in a leather apron, was plying the

VOL. X.. No. 2-9

cheeks, if les3 vivid in color than some I have seen, had the advantage of being natural; and I would have given broad acres and blood to be that Apollo of a Crispin, as she paused in her song to ask, with a happy smile, "Is that right, Harry ?'' showing her work. My shadow fell upon the floor, and he looked up. I advanced, begged pardon for the intrusion; but the house had been the home of an old nurse, and a favorite resort of my boyhood.' His wife would have left the room, had I not requested her to stay. With a half apology Thorn resumed his work; but I doubt whether your irresistible captain or the pompous Schmidt could have talked as sensibly and agreeably as he did during my visit. He is a native of Tullamore, and learned his trade there. Three months since, he married and came here, where his wife's uncle had followed the same calling. He spoke hopefully of his prospects, having been favorably encouraged in the neighborhood. You find time for reading, I see,' said I, glancing at a well-stocked bookshelf. Yes, sir,' said he; "my wife will not hear of my working after dark; so I read aloud.'"'

"What is Wilton talking about?" drawled Miss Agnes, a fairer and less animated beauty than her elder sister. She entered from the garden, and sank upon the sofa, "wearied to death."

"Why, he has been peeping into a turtledove's nest," rejoined Eleanor; "and has an idea of playing Werter to a shoebinding Charlotte."

"Ah, that odious cobbler! I wonder papa let him have the cottage," said Agnes, with a faint show of displeasure. "You are not really in love with his wife, are you, Wilton? Susan says the creature is passable."

"The creature is more beautiful, and-to your shame be it said-more courteous in behavior than my sisters," retorted Wilton, angrily, turning on his heel, without waiting to witness the effect of his rebuke.

Agnes widened her sleepy blue eyes. Eleanor's glowed with rage.

"They move from that cottage before the year is out, or I am not mistress here, Mr. Wilton!" was her angry rejoinder.