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the midst of it all, so faithful to her own boudoir
and its refined amusements, that she looked in
vain for some annoyance wherewith to charge her.
And where was Florence Leslie all this time?
Still, with her parents' free and glad consent,
lingering by the side of Lady Ida, imbibing im-
provement, alike morally and mentally, from lips
to which harshness and unkindness were such
utter strangers, that the severest truths seemed
sweet, the boldly uttered reproof scarcely pain;
but there was a secret alloy, scarcely acknowledged
even to herself, in her brightest anticipations. The
more her young and most ardent affections twined
themselves round one whose notice would evince
they were not despised, the more she felt the truth
of her mother's words, that it would have been
more for her lasting happiness had Lady Ida's
rank been nearer her own. She had not felt this
when thrown, as they were, so intimately together;
but when she heard her speak of the friends she
expected, almost all of them of her own rank, and
dear from long years of intimacy, there would
intrude the thought, what could she, a simple
country girl be to her, when Lady Ida was in
Italy a happy wife, or in England surrounded
by her own friends. But though the thought of
the future would sometimes silently and sadly
shade the delight of the present, she continued
to rejoice in listening to her words, in learning
lessons of self-knowledge by the study of Lady
Ida's higher cast of character, and determined to
correct all those youthful weaknesses and failings
of which she became conscious in herself by their
total exclusion from her friend; and the wish to
become more worthy of regard, of esteem, till
Lady Ida could look upon her in the light of a
friend, not merely as an affectionate, playful girl,"
scarcely passed childhood, pervaded her whole
being.

It is the fashion to deride woman's influence over woman, to laugh at female friendship, to look with scorn on all those who profess it; but perhaps the world at large little knows the effect of this influence-how often the unformed character of a young, timid, and gentle girl, may be influenced for good or evil by the power of an intimate female friend. There is always to me a doubt of the warmth, the strength, and purity of her feelings, when a young girl merges into womanhood, passing over the threshold of actual life, seeking only the admiration of the other sex ; watching, pining for a husband, or lovers, perhaps, and looking down on all female friendship as romance and folly. No young spirit was ever yet satisfied with the love of nature. Friendship or love, gratifies self-love; for it tacitly acknowledges that we must possess some good qualities to attract beyond the mere love of nature. Coleridge justly observes-"that it is well ordered that the amiable and estimable should have a fainter perception of their own qualities than their friends have, otherwise they would love themselves." Now, friendship, or love, permits their doing this unconsciously: mutual affection is a tacit avowal and appreciation of mutual good qualities-perhaps friendship yet more than love; for the latter is far more an aspiration, a passion, than the former, and influences the per

manent character much less. Under the magic of
love, a girl is generally in a feverish state of excite-
ment, often in a wrong position, deeming herself
the goddess, her lover the adorer; whereas, it
is her will that must bend to his, herself be
abnegated for him. Friendship neither permits
the former, nor demands the latter. It influences
silently, often unconsciously, perhaps its power
is never known till years afterwards. A girl
who stands alone, without acting or feeling
friendship, is generally a cold unamiable being, so
wrapt in self as to have no room for any person
else except, perhaps, a lover, whom she only seeks
and values, as offering his devotion to that same
idol, self. Female friendship may be abused, may
be but a name for gossip, letter-writing, romance,
nay worse, for absolute evil; but that Shakespeare,
the mighty wizard of human hearts, thought highly
and beautifully of female friendship, we have his
exquisite portraits of Rosalind and Celia, Helen
and the Countess, undeniably to prove; and if he,
who could pourtray every human passion, every
subtle feeling of humanity, from the whelming
tempest of love to the fiendish influences of envy
and jealousy and hate; from the incomprehensible
mystery of Hamlet's wondrous spirit, to the sim-
plicity of the gentle Miranda, the dove-like inno-
cence of Ophelia, who could be crushed by her
weight of love, but not reveal it; if Shakspeare
scorned not to picture the sweet influence of female
friendship, shall women pass it by as a theme too
tame, too idle for their pens. A late work, though
of the latest novel kind, has powerfully shown the
fearful evil that may be accomplished by woman
upon woman. Our simple tale would prove the
good. How consoling and how beautiful may be
woman's mission," even unto woman.
There was not a particle of selfish uess in Florence
Leslie's feelings, for at the very moment she wept
in secret over her own fast fading joys, she rejoiced
with the most unfeigned pleasure that Lady Ida's
term of anxiety was drawing to a close, and could
she in any way have hastened her meeting with
Edmund St. Maur, she would have done so
gladly.

Still the idea of a ball, and given by Lady Ida,
and yet more, that her taste, simple as it was, had
been more than once consulted and even followed
in the decoration of rooms, &c. ; the very fact that
Lady Ida had asked her if she would like the ball
to be given before she answered her cousins' en-
treaties, and evidently thought of her pleasure in
so doing all this was delightful; and, in wit-
nessing her artless, almost childish effusions of
joy, Lady Ida felt as if her consent to an exertion
for which she had very little inclination
amply repaid.

was

(To be continued.)

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TO MY BETROTHED.

Sweet girl, not only with a lover's eye,
Not with the passionate glance of hope alone,
Which views thee fairest, worthiest, and most
dear,

I gaze upon thy face, and sun myself

In the soft rapture of thy loving smile,
But with the thoughtful retrospect of all
That won my love to thee in years gone by,
And deep affection's meditative gaze
Into thy probable lot for years to come.
My wife, my friend! upon whose faithful breast,
Pillowed in quietness, this aching head
Shall often rest its cares; my wife, my friend!
Whose counsel still shall aid me-whose dear
smile

Of kind approval still shall shine upon My rugged path of life-whose earnest prayer Shall rise not seldom for the soul she lovesWhose deep affection's gentle tenderness Shall be in sickness as my healing balm, And my sweet solace in the spring of health; My wife, my friend, my first, my only love, All these I see in thee! Nor these alone: The patient mother, cradled at whose breast Some unborn darling slumbers-at whose knee Some future prattlers lisp in innocent tones (Their little hands in thine) the infant's prayer, Their guide to blessing thou-whose careful love, Well judging in thy fondness, wins them on By early precept and example bright, To all that blesses life in making goodAll these I see in thee! Nor these alone: Perchance, all patient on thy bed of pain; Perchance, all tears for some dear dying child; Perchance, all desolation in thy grief, At the dark lot of lonely widowhood! Yet not quite lonely, dearest: if I may, I will be near thee then-nor only I, For my God shall be thy God, and will haste In condescending love to comfort thee, Pouring sweet inercies in thy cup of woe. But, ah! perchance the dreary lot is mine, To close thy glazing eye-to watch in vain For yet one throb to heave thy freezing breastTo hope in vain for yet one word, one look! Well, well, dear love, God's tender will be done : He gives us blessings now-be fills our cup With over-flowing mercies; let us love Him, And when the storm of woe is lowering near, He will be with us!

June, 1834.

M. F. T.

MEMORY.

Oh! busy, haunting Memory!
Who hath not felt thy power?
Whose spirit hath not bow'd to thee
In thy self-hallow'd hour?
Ay, hallow'd e'en amidst the noise
Of life's distracting round-
Hallow'd amidst the wildest joys
Of pleasure's fairy ground.

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THE POET'S FAREWELL TO EARTH!

BY W. M. KIRKHOUSE.

Farewell, ye bright and glittering scenes,
Where mirth and joy preside;
Farewell, ye first imaginings,

To youth and hope allied;
And yon bright, golden orb of day,
Whose glorious path to view,
Doth gladden other hearts than mine,
To them and all, adieu !

Farewell, ye groves, in whose retreat
The muses love to dwell;
Farewell, ye flowers, whose varied sweets
It hath been mine to tell;

For other hands full soon shall twine

Fresh garlands in my stead; And, oh! perchance some friendly hand May strew them o'er my bed.

The gorgeous glory of the Spring, It hath been mine to share;

But now my soul doth seek its home, Where all is bright and fair.

No more the bitter taunt be mine,

Which earth's proud children throw On those whom Genius hath endowed With gifts they cannot know.

A long farewell to every thing

Which this cold world contains; My soul is raptured with the sounds Of seraph's witching strains.

I hear them call my soul, to join
Their minstrelsy divine,
And pay my tribute to the Lamb,
Who made those glories mine.
Brighton.

FLOWERS AT A FESTIVAL

BY MRS. JAMES GRAY,
(Late Miss M. A. Browne.)

"The touch of the sunbeam hath 'waked the rose, To deck the hall where the bright wine flows." MRS. HEMANS.

The lamps in the stately hall are bright,
The plumes float softly, the pearls gleam white;
Many a cheek is lit with joy,
That yet hath known no sad alloy;
The music breathes unearthly sweet,
The dancer's steps, like the zephyr's fleet;
But turn where the light so softly showers,
And gaze with me on those beauteous flowers.

The "fairest of the fair,"
very

From garden and wild are gathered there;
Pure water laves each broken stem,
The vase is rich with gold and gem;

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FIVE DAYS FROM HOME.

BY AN IRISHMAN.

(Continued from page 346.)

sion as his partner. The system of choosing was changed, and with this youth's sister, the "flower sylph," I was destined to sit opposite, and he, och hone! was baffled in the achievement of procuring his dearly beloved. Twelve o'clock struck, some of the company withdrew, and as the stars were shining in the firmament, and the moon illuminating the half-mile walk, they afforded us additional pleasure in escorting the ladies a portion of the way home.

While on the lawn at Carndaisy House, and sighing for one who was absent, I expressed a wish that we should prepare for starting. Off we went to the village which we had passed a few hours previously; a short halt was come to here for the purpose of making some arrangements for an evening party, and the two who formed the "we," and two others were, from the

same house, amongst the guests. At four o'clock, or thereabouts, we were back to Moneyhaw, when a very unassuming gentleman, who has been lately dubbed M.D., nephew to the proprietor of the house where the party was assembled, along with some of his cousins, took a short walk. While we were promenading, a courier was sent to announce the "sounds so joyful," that dinner was on the table. When dinner was over, the M.D. and his cousin Mick were fidgety to meet the ladies, who it was supposed were then on their way. Did I hold back? ob, no. Punctual to the time, the divinities were seen at the distance; the lady who occupied my attention more than any of her compeers, had her finely proportioned figure arranged in lavender-coloured silk, in a style of taste and fancy that might almost defy the competition of a Parisian modeste. Notwithstanding the superb beauty of this lady's attire, it was of colour that has few admirers; and, indeed, the muslin dress she wore in the morning, with white bonnet, and feathers that "fluttered in the breeze," did she but know it, displayed her to much better advantage than which was effected by the "lavender." Although late, let me return her my best thanks for the flowers that she plucked in her father's spacious garden, and placed in the buttonhole of my coat. There was one given to me as a keepsake, the "forget-me-not ;" this poetical flower, in recollection of the donor, is treasured in a select corner of my portfolio. Well, theu, although the emblem has withered, she who pre

and as it would be un-Irish to part with the man Ready money down was instantly on the counter, who drove me hither, without giving him a" sumamit" for himself, he accepted a glass of inexciseable beverage with smacking cordiality. "Let go that off leader," shouted the whipster of the stage coach, and at this the lash laced the jackets of the horses. An Englishman who sat behind was murmuring at the vehicle being so innkeeper assured him that on the day preceding crowded; when, to appease his animosity, a burly there was nothing on the coach but the cushions. On every alternate day, a steamer sails along trains go six times per day to Belfast; this, to the Lough Neagh for Portadown, whence the railway coach owner, gives him one day the materials for a feast," the other, a "famine. The "growler,"

over

""

brance-may she live long, and live happy. The
garden queen, "the rose,
was intertwined with
the "forget-me-not," and, as the giver is herself
a "rose," how I looked at the bouquet, taking a
diagonal peep the while at the fair rose, Anne's
blooming lips, resembling

sented it shall not hastily wither in my remem-poor fellow, at every hill when the coach slackened head of the unfortunate driver; he had an appointits pace, continued to pour his invective on the ment with a gentleman at eleven o'clock, and according to the rate of travelling, it would be midnight ere he obtained his desired interview. I once saw a shopkeeper distressed in mind at the failure of a bank, and accursing himself for want of judgment; but the grumbler with whom I this day had the misfortune to come in contact, beat him hollow.

"Morning roses newly tipt with dew."

Now for the tea table! which was presided over by the host's eldest daughter, and my floral benefactor; and never did two acquit themselves with more elegance in the execution of their onerous yet agreeable duties. The amusement that followed was not so varied as I have often witnessed under this hospitable roof. At cards we were engaged for three or four hours, losing five minutes about the selection of partners; one gentleman was extremely desirous to secure the second daughter of the man

"Are the gentlemen continuing at the pasteboard?" asked one of the inmates at Moneyhaw. when they will stop," was the rejoinder. "Yes, and let them play till they are tired,

A minute's re

The ladies and I had a light supper, and while which a guest, a next door neighbour, fancied at it, there was a question jocularly asked me, flection reminded me it was one o'clock. Shakshe was correct in answering. ing hands with the household, nine or ten in number, one of whom remarked in a strain of the purest affection "that my stay was generally very short, and the next time it should be extended." At four, I was off on a car to "Magherafelt," a distance of four miles, from which I started for

Belfast at five o'clock.

"What's the fare to Belfast ?" said I to the

clerk, who, on this occasion, was no other than the
wife of the coach proprietor.
"Three shillings."

"Here is a steep hill, gentlemen," said the driver, addressing the passengers, "and you'll have to alight."

An oath was the rejoinder of the unhappy cockney.

His irascibility was exceedingly amusing, the more so as a companion, who gave me " the wink," incited him to continue his virtuperation. With this companion, as we were walking together, I

had some chat; when he told me that the solitary gentleman then on the coach lost his night's rest by the continued howling of a dog and the braying of a donkey; that when such unfortunately is the case, he never recovers his "happiness" till he spends a few hours in "misery." An additional horse at Antrim pulled up for lost time, and at eleven o'clock I had the unexpected pleasure to see, awaiting my arrival, "a fine old Irish gentleman," who has dwelt in his present house, in the principal street in Belfast, for a longer period than, with one exception, any other in the town. My namesake, as usual, was happy to see me; the feeling was reciprocal: he brought me to his residence in High-street, where I was delighted to see all the members of his family, who had, at the end of the preceding week, removed from their country seat. Into the parlour I was ushered, when the three good daughters, vying with each other in their attention to a "wearied traveller," regaled

I

me with some strong tea, and the et ceteras.
was not at a loss to discover my usual room up
stairs, and a very comfortable room it is, where
having changed my travelling costume for more
appropriate toggery, I took a tour through the
town to inspect a newly erected bridge, constructed
at an expense of £20,000.; the shipping in the
harbour, the water-works under the cave hill, and
other places of resort. At five o'clock dinner was
on the table, when I sat next a gentleman who
lives" over the way;" and I feel annoyed-what
a misfortune it is to be stupid-at my remissness

kind."

for not expressing my thanks for the kindness he" Her manners are so gentle, and her heart is so manifested towards my sister, when on a visit with his family. In the evening, I met, not for the first time, his step-daughter, to whom nature has been bountiful in giving a sweet and expressive face, and unaffectedly sedate and graceful figure.

"The evening is fine, is it not?" addressing myself to this pretty Northern; "and yet you are muffled in a sable boa. Have you got a cold?"

She replied in a plaintive manner, a forced smile tinged with sadness lighting up her features

66

"How do you find yourself now, Miss Johnstone?"

The Misses Smyth, Spence, and others, jestingly re-echoed the interrogation-to expiate which we must claim the young lady's forgiveness; and for all frivolity I must make atonement, by fervently praying that the same disagreeable affliction will not again affect the nerves of her masticating organs, which are of such exquisite whiteness and symmetrical order, that from her residence to the city of Londonderry, fifty miles asunder,

"None but themselves can be their parallel.”

"No, I have not; but, for preservation sake, think it indispensable to be carefully muffled to guard against the possibility of catching cold."

"Ob, then, for the weather is changeable, you are a very sensible girl (good people are scarce), but others don't follow your example." "They have," with a suppressed sigh, necessity."

I was reluctant to be too inquisitive, but when asking a question, I was interrupted by the host's second daughter, who pleasurably exclaimed,

"The young lady had too much of what is called jaw-she has now lost a portion of it."

A burst of laughter followed, from which I readily inferred that a tooth had been removed by a dentist's operation. These toothaches, what plagues they are! Ascertaining then that the sufferer the day before parted with a companion that never forsook her for nineteen years and some months, a sufficient cause, I thought, to militate against her sustaining that air of fascinating sprightliness which is so inherent to her disposition. Frequently did I address her in the course of the evening, inquiring

no

In the latter town resides a most facetious young lady, whom I met in the autumn of 1842, in Belfast. While at tea, on one occasion, doubtlessly for the purpose of showing off her ivories to advantage, she was mincing biscuits, which this Derry maiden, more peaceable in her dewere as hard as a plank. Should I hereafter meet

shall not fail to mention the comparison that I meanour than her Welsh namesake Rebecca, I made concerning her teeth.

"Have you any objection to a dance?" asked one of the household.

Acting on etiquette, I chose her eldest sister, a young lady who was once so distant-so silentand these defects being removed, she is now imbued with a vivacity which will not fail to render her additionally liked by her admirable selection of associates—

I observed that the lady who, previous to dancing, wore the boa, replaced it around her neck, and, for a few minutes, till I aroused her, she was again sinking into solemnity. There was a song, and one only, from "the fair-haired Maria;" it was of that sigh-away die-away character which did not correspond exactly with the sentiments of the singer. On a former visit, I heard "more eloquent music" from the accomplished cantatrice. This truly laudable young lady has in her the material as well as the polish, youth besides beauty, a noble bust and stately figure; and with the profession she has adopted, having an expansive mind stored with intelligence, did she remove from a provincial to a more extensive sphere, such as the Irish capital or the "great metropolis" itself, to say that she would not win her way to eminence is an assertion that no admirer of talent could for a moment entertain. Two hours uninterruptedly employed in dancing and song created a simultaneous wish for something to moisten our palates. We were not doomed to a lengthened delay, for a most delicious draught was promptly supplied.

"Will you allow me to help you to a little more?" said one of the gentlemen to a lady.

I was looking for a smiling nod of acquiescence, when "No," decided otherwise.

"Will you, you, you, you, or you!" was put to every fair one, when a similar rejoinder was returned.

My vision deceived me much, or they relished the luxury. At any rate, the gentlemen, for the

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