„Oh, that's it!" exclaimed the old man of the mats.

99

You don't object to the wench then, nor to her old grandfather, if 'twas not for the money?"

,,Not in the least," replied the farmer;" she's a good girl, and a pretty girl. I like her full as well as Augusta Brookes, and I am afraid that Jem likes her much better. And as for yourself, Master Matthew, why, I've known you these fifty years, and never heard man, woman, or child, speak a misword of you in my life. I respect you, man; and I am heartily sorry to vex you and that good little girl yonder. Don't cry so, Bessy! pray don't cry!" and the goodnatured farmer well nigh cried for company.

,,No, don't cry, Bessy, because there's no need," rejoined her grandfather.,,I thought mayhap it was out of pride that Farmer White would not suffer Jem to marry my little girl. But, since it's only the money" continued the old man, fumbling amidst a vast variety of well-patched garments, until from the pocket of some underjacket he produced a greasy, brown leather book "since 'tis only Miss 'Gusta's money that's wanted to stock the Holm, why that's but reasonable; and we'll see whether your four hundred won't go as far as her's.

bits of paper, farmer an't they?"

Look at them dirty

I

they 're of the right sort, cried Matthew, with a chuckle.“ called 'em in, because I thought they'd be wanted for her portion, like; and, when the old Matmaker dies, there'll be a hundred or two more into the bargain. Take the money, man, can't ye? and don't look so 'stounded. It's honestly come by, I promise you. All 'dustry and 'conomy, like. Her father, he was 'dustrious, and left her a bit; and her mother, she

was 'dustrious too, and left her a bit; and I, thof I should not say it, have been 'dustrious all my life; and she, poor thing, is more 'dustrious than any of us. Ay, that's right. Give her a hearty kiss, man; and call in Jem I'll warrant he's not far off and we'll fix the wedding-day over a jug of homebrewed. And madam there, „pursued the happy old man, as with most sincere congratulations and good wishes I rose to depart,,,madam there, who looks so pleased and speaks so kindly, may be sure of her mat. I'm a 'dustrious man, thof I say it that should not say it, and Bessy's a 'dustrious girl, and in my mind there's nothing beats 'dustry in high or in low."

And, with this axiom from the old Matmaker, Dash and I took our leave of four as happy people for by this time Jem had joined the party could well be found under the sun.

as

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL.

Our bugles sang truce for the night cloud had lower'd

And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain;
At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,
And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track:
T'was Autumn, and sunshine arose on the way

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain - goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn- reapers sung.

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart.

Stay, stay with us rest, thou art weary and worn;
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay

But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

A SPORTING ADVENTURE IN

AUVERGNE.

BY GEORGE AGAR HANSARD ESQ.

During a ramble through the southern provinces of France in the Autumn of 1823, I established my head quarters at a small village, about two leagues distant from the pleasant little town of Riom, remarkable for the wild beauties of the surrounding landscape, and for the delicate apricot and quince pics, with which it supplies the luxurious appetites of the good citizens of Paris and of the other principal towns

of France.

In this romantic and sequestered retreat, I amused myself with a few books which lay at the bottom of my portmanteau, my drawing implements, a double -barrelled Manton, a brace of English setters, and my fishing rod. The neighbouring mountains are well stocked with game; while the streams that break in a succession of sparkling cascades down their slopes teem with the crimson-spotted trout, and supply inexhaustible occupation for the fly-fisher.

It was near the close of a raw and gloomy day in the latter end of October, which I had passed in searching for the beautiful red partridge, which lie scattered in large coveys among the heath - clad sides of the Puy de Dôme, that, weary and exhausted with hunger and thirst, I halted in the vicinity of a small antique chapel, to which the mountaineers annually resort on a kind of pilgrimage to ,,Our Lady of the Mont d'Or." Her image, sculptured in stone and

bearing the infant Saviour in her arms, surmounts the Gothic doorway which leads to the interior of the edifice. The grey, moss-grown pedestal of a large stone cross, originally erected opposite to the chapel entrance, but now overturned and partly buried in the green velvet turf on which it lay, afforded a welcome resting-place for my wearied limbs. A bright pellucid stream of water burst from a fissure in the rock, against one side of which the chapel was erected, and, after overflowing a small natural basin below, ran murmuring over its pebbly bed to join the torrent whose deafening roar alone interrupted the awful silénce that reigned upon the scene. A small massive iron drinking-vessel hung suspended by a chain at the side of this living fountain, and the pious hand, whose active benevolence placed it there, had probably inscribed the words, „FESSO VIATORI,“*) which I observed carved in rude characters upon the rock, above the spot where it hung. With a heartfelt benison to his memory, whoever he might have been, I drank copiously.

Feeling myself considerably refreshed, I resumed my path among scenery awfully magnificent; for the mountains rose on all sides in every variety of form and the last rays of the setting sun, which tipped their summits with a golden hue, threw a portion of their brilliancy over the varied antumnal foliage of the magnificent forest-trees that grew around. Emerging from this pleasing scene upon one of a very different character, I descended into a deep ravine, where large masses of granite rock, torn from the impending

),,For the weary traveller."