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A CONFESSION.

BY MRS. ALARIC WATTS.

He passed four months in resolving to lose no more time in idle resolves, and was only awakened to more active exertion by hearing a maid, who had broken a porcelain cup, remark, that what cannot be repaired is not to be regretted.

Rasselas.

I.

YES, the day is almost over,
And my task is still undone,
Like the butterfly, gay rover,
Ever sporting in the sun,—
So I flit from book to book,

As she flies from flower to flower;

On a bust or picture look,

Till I find I've lost an hour;
Then I sigh and lose another,
Mourning its departed brother.

II.

Then I praise the pleasant weather;

Then I think how sweet 't would be, Thou and I to roam together,

By the ever-sounding sea! Then I muse on days departed, Days in careless wandering spent,— Far less blest, if lighter hearted, Far more gay, if less content;

Then I start, and think I'm wasting Time, whilst memory's pleasures tasting.

III.

Then I dream of shady bowers,

With soft smiles of sun between; Then I picture wilding flowers,

Woven thick 'mid mosses green; Then I bless the sons of song,

Followers of an idle trade,

Wizards, unto whom belong

Rock and glen, and grassy glade;

All, but chiefly thee I bless,

Gentle Bard of Idleness!

IV.

Then I marvel if earth's sages,

Shining lights of elder Time, Heroes of historic pages,

Builders of the lofty rhyme,

Always found their duty, pleasure,

They to whom the heart doth bow, Did they trifle but at leisure,

Did they feel-as I do now? Wishing I might aught pursue,

Save the thing I'm vowed to do.

V.

Yes, the day is almost over,
And my task is still undone ;
Time, 't is true, will bring another,
With the next revolving sun;
I shall re-resolve to-morrow,

Shall again forget my vow;
Start once more with fruitless sorrow,
Regret-repent, as I do now.

I shall sigh, as well I may,

And mourn I've lost another day.

THE LETTRE-DE-CACHET.

"It must come down!" exclaimed Julian, "Frenchmen will no longer endure it. It is enough to have one's life and liberty at the disposal of bad laws, without holding them at the caprice of a nobleman or a king! What's a man's life worth without security of person and property? I may possess health, I may possess honesty, I may be blessed with wife and children, my affairs may thrive, I may have friends on every side of me; and yet may end my days in a dungeon if I happen to displease a man in power.— It must come down!"

"What must come down?" demanded Monsieur le Croix, suddenly entering the apartment; "what must come down?" repeated he in a still more authoritative tone.

"The Bastile," replied Julian, calmly raising his eyes, which at first he had dropped, and fixing them steadily, but respectfully upon his master. There was

a pause.

"Julian," at length said Monsieur le Croix,

"I have

heard of this before. Do you know that you are talking treason?"

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Yes," replied Julian, rather doggedly; "but I also know that I am talking reason and justice."

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"That is, as you conceive," rejoined Monsieur le Croix. He took a turn or two across the apartment. ‘Julian,” resumed he, "you are a dissatisfied man, and there are too many such in France. You are a dangerous man, too; for you read, and talk of what you read, and unsettle the opinions of those who know less than you do; you are tainted with that feeling of jealousy and rancour, with which Frenchmen unhappily begin to regard the established and venerable institutions of their country. How came it that you treated with insolence, to-day, the valet of Monsieur le Comte de St. Ange?"

"Because he treated me with insolence," answered Julian-" he called to me to hold his horse while he alighted; as though I had been his master's groom!"

"Was it not rather because his master is a nobleman?" sternly interrogated Monsieur le Croix.-" You have been insolent to the Count, too," resumed he.

"He threatened to apply his whip to my shoulders,” said Julian," and I told him that he had better reserve it for his horse."

"And had he put his threat into execution, what would you have done?"

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