"You no get up-you shan't get up," screamed Charlotte, seizing her mother's gown fiercely to detain her.

"My darling, you'll surely let me go to speak to uncle-good uncle, who brings you pretty things, you know;"—but, during this colloquy, uncle and the ladies had made their way to the enthralled mother, and the bustle of a meeting and introduction was got over. Chairs were obtained by the footman with some difficulty, and placed as close to the mistress of the house as possible, aware that otherwise it would not be easy to carry on even question and answer amid the tumult that reigned.

"You find us rather noisy, I am afraid," said Mrs. Fairbairn with a smile, and in a manner which evidently meant the reverse; "but this is Saturday, and the children are all in such spirits, and they won't stay away from me-Henry, my dear, don't crack your whip quite so loud there's a good boy-that's a new whip his papa brought him from London; and he's so proud of it!--William, my darling, don't you think your drum must be tired now? -If I were you I would give it a rest. Alexander, your trumpet makes rather too much noise-one of these ladies has got a headache-wait till you go out-there's my good boy, and then you'll blow it at the cows and the sheep, you know, and frighten themOh! how you'll frighten them with it!"

"No, I'll not blow it at the cows:-I'll blow it at the horses, because then they'll think it's the mail-coach."-And he was running off, when Henry jumped down from the coach-box. "No, but you shan't frighten them with your trumpet, for I shall frighten them with my whip. Mamma, aren't horses best frightened with a whip?"-and a struggle ensued.

"Well, don't fight, my dears, and you shall both frighten them," cried their mamma.

"No, I'm determined he shan't frighten them; I shall do it," cried both together, as they rushed out of the room, and the drummer was preparing to follow.

William, my darling, don't you go after these naughty boys; you know they're always very bad to you. You know they wouldn't let you into their coach with your drum."Here William began to cry.- 'Well, never mind, you shall have a coach of your own-a much finer coach than theirs; I wouldn't go into their ugly dirty coach; and you shall have Here something of a consolatory nature was whispered, William was comforted, and even prevailed upon to relinquish his drum for his mamma's ivory work-box, the contents of which were soon scattered on the floor.

These boys are gone without their hats," cried Mrs. Fairbairn in a tone of distress. Eliza, my dear, pull the bell for Sally to get the boys' hats."-Sally being despatched with the hats, something like a calm ensued, in the absence of he of the whip and the trumpet; but as it will be of short duration, it is necessary to take advantage of it in improving the introduction into an acquaintance with the Fairbairn family.

Mrs. Fairbairn was one of those ladies, who, from the time she became a mother, ceased to be anything else. All the duties, pleasures, charities, and decencies of life, were henceforth concentrated in that one grand characteristic; every object in life was henceforth viewed through that single medium. Her own mother was no longer her mother; she was the grandmamma of her dear infants, her brothers and sisters were mere uncles and aunts, and even her husband ceased to be thought of as her husband from the time he became a father. He was no longer the being who had claims on her time, her thoughts, her talents, her affections; he was simply Mr. Fairbairn, the noun masculine of Mrs. Fairbairn, and the father of her children. Happily for Mr. Fairbairn, he was not a person of very nice feelings, or refined taste; and although, at first, he did feel a little unpleasant when he saw how much his children were preferred to himself, yet, in time, he became accustomed to it, then came to look upon Mrs. Fairbairn as the most exemplary of mothers, and finally resolved himself into the father of a very fine family, of which Mrs. Fairbairn was the mother. In all this there was more of selfish egotism and animal instinct, than of rational affection or Christian principle; but both parents piqued themselves upon their fondness for their offspring, as if it were a feeling peculiar to themselves, and not one they shared in common with the lowest and weakest of their species. Like them, too, it was upon the bodies of their children that they lavished their chief care and tenderness, for, as to the immortal interests of their souls, or the cultivation of their minds, or the improvement of their tempers, these were but little attended to, at least in comparison of their health and personal appearance. Alas! if there be not a gem so precious as the human soul," how often do these gems seem as pearls cast before swine; for how seldom is it that a parent's greatest care is for the immortal happiness of that being whose precarious, and at best transient, existence engrosses their every thought and desire! But perhaps Mrs. Fairbairn, like many a foolish ignorant

mother, did her best; and had she been satisfied with spoiling her children herself for her own private amusement, and not have drawn in her visitors and acquaintances to share in it, the evil might have passed uncensured. But Mrs. Fairbairn, instead of shutting herself up in her nursery, chose to bring her nursery down to her drawing-room, and instead of modestly denying her friends an entrance into her purgatory, she had a foolish pride in showing herself in the midst of her angels. In short, as the best things, when corrupted, always become the worst, so the purest and tenderest of human affections, when thus debased by selfishness and egotism, turn to the most tiresome and ridiculous of human weaknesses,-a truth but too well exemplified by Mrs. Fairbairn.

"I have been much to blame," said she, addressing Miss Bell, in a soft, whining, sickchild sort of voice, "for not having been at Bellevue long ago; but dear little Charlotte, has been so plagued with her teeth, I could not think of leaving her-for she is so fond of me, she will go to nobody else she screams when her maid offers to take her and she won't even go to her papa."

"Is that possible?" said the major. "I assure you it's very true-she's a very naughty girl sometimes," bestowing a long and rapturous kiss on the child.

"Who was

it that beat poor papa for taking her from mamma last night? Well, don't cry-no, no, it wasn't my Charlotte. She knows every word that's said to her, and did from the time she was only a year old."

"That is wonderful!" said Miss Bell; "but how is my little favourite Andrew?"

"He is not very stout yet, poor little fellow, and we must be very careful of him." Then turning to Miss St. Clair, "Our little Andrew has had the measles, and you know the dregs of the measles are a serious thing-much worse than the measles themselves. AndrewAndrew Waddell, my love, come here and speak to the ladies." And thereupon Andrew Waddell, in a night-cap, riding on a stick, drew near. Being the major's namesake, Miss Bell, in the ardour of her attachment, thought proper to coax Andrew Waddell on her knee, and even to open her watch for his entertain

ment.

"Ah! I see who spoils Andrew Waddell," cried the delighted mother.

The major chuckled-Miss Bell disclaimed, and for the time Andrew Waddell became the hero of the piece; the blains of the measles were carefully pointed out, and all his sufferings and sayings duly recapitulated. At length

Miss Charlotte, indignant at finding herself eclipsed, began to scream and cry with all her strength.

"It's her teeth, darling little thing," said her mother, caressing her.

"I'm sure it's her teeth, sweet little dear," said Miss Bell.

"It undoubtedly must be her teeth, poor little girl," said the major.

"If you will feel her gum," said Mrs. Fairbairn, putting her own finger into the child's mouth, "you will feel how hot it is."

This was addressed in a sort of general way to the company, none of whom seemed eager to avail themselves of the privilege, till the major stepped forward, and having with his fore-finger made the circuit of Miss Charlotte's mouth, gave it as his decided opinion, that there was a tooth actually cutting the skin. Miss Bell followed the same course, and confirmed the interesting fact-adding, that it appeared to her to be "an uncommon large tooth."

At that moment Mr. Fairbairn entered, bearing in his arms another of the family, a fat, sour, new-waked-looking creature, sucking its finger. Scarcely was the introduction over"There's a pair of legs!" exclaimed he, holding out a pair of thick purple stumps with red worsted shoes at the end of them. "I don't suppose Miss St. Clair ever saw legs like these in France; these are porridge-and-milk legs, are they not, Bobby?"

But Bobby continued to chew the cud of his own thumb in solemn silence.

"Will you speak to me, Bobby?" said Miss Bell, bent upon being amiable and agreeable— but still Bobby was mute.

"We think this little fellow rather long of speaking," said Mr. Fairbairn; "we allege that his legs have run away with his tongue.'

'How old is he?" asked the major.

A movement was here made by the visitors to depart.

and to take a lively interest in all the feats and peculiarities of the family? Shakspeare's anathema against those who hated music is scarcely too strong to be applied to those who dislike children. There is much enjoyment sometimes in making acquaintance with the little beings-much delight in hearing their artless and unsophisticated prattle, and something not unpleasing even in witnessing their

"She must be asleep," said Mrs. Fairbairn; "but I will take you up to the nursery, and you will see her in her cradle." And Mrs. Fairbairn led the way to the nursery, and opened the shutter, and uncovered the cradle, and displayed the baby.

a tiresome mother, instead of allowing the company to notice her child, torments every one to death in forcing or coaxing her child to notice the company, the charm is gone, and we experience only disgust or ennui.

Miss St. Clair flattered herself the exhibition was now over, and was again taking leave, when, to her dismay, the squires of the whip and the trumpet rushed in, proclaiming that it was pouring of rain! To leave the house was impossible, and, as it was getting late, there was nothing for it but staying dinner.

The children of this happy family always dined at table, and their food and manner of eating were the only subjects of conversation. Alexander did not like mashed potatoes-and Andrew Waddell could not eat broth-and Eliza could live upon fish-and William Pitt took too much small-beer-and Henry ate as much meat as his papa--and all these peculiarities had descended to them from some one or other of their ancestors. The dinner was simple on account of the children, and there was no dessert, as Bobby did not agree with fruit. But to make amends, Eliza's sampler was shown, and Henry and Alexander's copybooks were handed round the table, and Andrew Waddell stood up and repeated-"My name is Norval," from beginning to end, and William Pitt was prevailed upon to sing the whole of "God save the King," in a little squeaking mealy voice, and was bravoed and applauded as though he had been Braham himself.

To paint a scene in itself so tiresome is doubtless but a poor amusement to my reader, who must often have endured similar persecution. For, who has not suffered from the obtrusive fondness of parents for their offspring? -and who has not felt what it was to be called upon, in the course of a morning visit, to enter |

so impressed with the idea of the delights of their family scenes, that vain would have been any attempt to open the eyes of their understanding. Perhaps the only remedy would have been found in that blessed spirit which "vaunteth not itself, and seeketh not its own."

BABY MAY.

[William Cox Bennett, D.C L., born at Greenwich, 1820. He has taken an active part in the political and social movements of his native town, whilst he has won fame as a poet, and especially as the poet of infant life. Miss Mitford, in her Recollections of a Literary Life, says, "Of all writers, the one who has best understood, best painted, best felt infant nature, is Mr. Bennett. We see at once that it is not only a charming and richlygifted poet who is describing childish beauty, but a Baby May is young father writing from his heart. amongst the most popular of Mr. Bennett's lyrics, and

amongst the most original as that which is perfectly

true to nature can scarcely fail to be." His chief works are, Baby May. The Worn Wedding-Ring, and other Home Poems; Queen Eleanor's Vengeance; Ballads and Narrative Poems: Songs by a Song Writer: Poems of

Thought and Fancy; and The Bulled and Song History of England. A complete edition of Mr. Bennett's poetical works is published by Routledge & Sons.]

Cheeks as soft as July peaches,
Lips whose dewy scarlet teaches
Poppies' paleness-round large eyes
Ever great with new surprise,
Minutes filled with shadeless gladness,
Minutes just as brimmed with sadness,
Happy smiles and wailing cries,
Crows and laughs and tearful eyes,

Lights and shadows swifter born

Than on wind-swept autumn corn,
Ever some new tiny notion
Making every limb all motion-
Catchings up of legs and arms,
Throwings back and small alarms,
Clutching fingers-straightening jerks,
Twining feet whose each toe works,
Kickings up and straiuing risings,
Mother's ever new surprisings,
Hands all wants and looks all wonder
At all things the heavens under,
Tiny scorns of smiled reprovings
That have more of love than lovings,
Mischiefs done with such a winning
Archness, that we prize such sinuing,
Breakings dire of plates and glasses,
Graspings small at all that passes,
Pullings off of all that's able

To be caught from tray or table;
Silences-small meditations,

Deep as thoughts of cares for nations,
Breaking into wisest speeches
In a tongue that nothing teaches,
All the thoughts of whose possessing
Must be wooed to light by guessing;
Slumbers-such sweet angel-seemings,
That we'd ever have such dreamings,
Till from sleep we see thee breaking,
And we'd always have thee waking;
Wealth for which we know no measure,
Pleasure high above all pleasure,
Gladness brimming over gladness,
Joy in care-delight in sadness,
Loveliness beyond completeness,
Sweetness distancing all sweetness,
Beauty all that beauty may be-
That's May Bennett, that's my baby.

BABY'S SHOES.

O those little, those little blue shoes! Those shoes that no little feet use!

O the price were high

That those shoes would buy, Those little blue unused shoes!

For they hold the small shape of feet
That no more their mother's eyes meet,
That by God's good-will,
Years since grew still,

And ceased from their totter so sweet!

And O, since that baby slept,

So hush'd! how the mother has kept,
With a tearful pleasure,
That little dear treasure,
And o'er them thought and wept!

For they mind her for evermore
Of a patter along the floor,

And blue eyes she sees

Look up from her knees,

With the look that in life they wore.

As they lie before her there,
There babbles from chair to chair
A little sweet face,

That's a gleam in the place,
With its little gold curls of hair.

Then O wonder not that her heart
From all else would rather part

Than those tiny blue shoes
That no little feet use,

And whose sight makes such fond tears start. W. C. BENNETT.

THE BRIGAND OF THE LOIRE.

It matters not to my story to enumerate the countries I visited, or the route by which I eventually entered France. At the expiration of two months after crossing the frontier, I found myself traversing a gloomy forest road in the department of the Mayenne and Loire; -my path chosen at a venture;--my restingplace for the coming night a matter of vague speculation. But neither the loneliness and intricacy of the way, nor my uncertainty as to the place where I might sleep, gave me uneasiness. True it was that the brigand cohorts of Napoleon-a crest-fallen and desperate remnant, escaped from the recently fought field of Waterloo-had but lately been disbanded: but I knew that the French soldier rarely turns robber in his own country; and as to a bed, I had already oftener than once had no cause to regret my having relied on the hospitality of the brave and simple Vendéens. Nevertheless, as the day began to decline, I felt a strong desire to exchange the rich repast of brambleberries, which nature had displayed by the way-side, and of which I had freely partaken, for the produce of some well-stored larder; and it was, therefore, with a feeling of agreeable satisfaction that I at length descried the waters of the Loire sparkling in the brilliant rays of the setting sun. He who has once beheld that majestic stream-the boast of troubadour song -will not soon forget the assemblage of charms which its banks present. Vine-clad hills, crowned with castles and towns;-shady glades, echoing to the chime of the vesper-bells;-farspreading meadows of perennial verdure;—and groups of prosperous and picturesquely-dressed peasants; arrest the eye in every direction.

The principal auberge stood in the "Grande Place"-a small square, ornamented by several rows of slim lime-trees, and a lofty cross, covered with a variety of offerings symbolical of the Church of Rome. The hotel was a heavy grotesque pile, by far too large for the purpose to which it was at present devoted. It had been the château of the seigneur of the village under the old régime, and a prison during the horrid alternation of the revolution. Its hereditary possessor, as I afterwards learned, had, in common with many of his retainers, long been held in durance within its walls, and had at length quitted them only to perish in one of the notorious fusillades at Angers. In short, even in France, I had rarely seen a more cutthroat looking structure; and I stepped across its threshold with suspicion.

The appearance of the aubergiste assimilated more closely than was agreeable to me with the aspect of his habitation. He was a tall, muscular, bushy-browed man, with a fierce gloomy cast of countenance. His dress, an empty sleeve, and the brusquerie of his manner, proclaimed the ex-soldier and stanch advocate of military despotism. He encountered me in the outer court, and, instead of returning an affable reply to my salutation, made a motion as if to bar my entrance, and in a low gruff tone demanded a sight of my passport. I readily complied with this requisition; and, apparently satisfied with its contents, he returned it, and pointing in the direction of the kitchen, turned away. I fancied that he muttered a curse on my country as we parted; but I let it pass unnoticed.

I had been but a very short time an inmate of this mansion ere I was struck by the unwonted silence and gloom that pervaded it. In the kitchen-in France almost invariably the seat of mirth-all was dulness and monotony. A couple of raw, uncombed lads, natives of the Bocage, were superintending the stewpans that contained my supper; and two young girls the landlord's daughters, as I conjectured sat in listless contemplation beside the blazing faggots on the hearth. One of these girls was not merely comely but beautiful;

acter which too frequently betokens a stricken heart. When she moved about, it was with the noiseless step of one treading in the chamber of death. Her low musical voice echoed through the apartment like the gentle breathings of a harp; and more than once I caught her black glistening eyes fixed on me with an inexplicable expression of woe and alarm.

In France a traveller nowise compromises his respectability by partially mingling with the family of his host. In that country the accidental distinctions of birth and fortune are not so deeply graven on the surface of society as in Britain; nor are the habits and manners of the various classes of the community so visibly dissimilar. I had often, in my wanderings, beguiled a heavy hour by encouraging the simple loquacity of the blithe grisettes who usually compose the household of the humbler hostelries; and here the attraction was too obvious to be resisted. I addressed my fair companions with that frank courtesy which I had hitherto found the readiest mode of winning a female's sufferance and smile; but for once it failed to elicit either. Therese, the livelier damsel, did indeed make an effort at conversation; but her more beautiful sister only answered by monosyllables and sighs. Surprised at this taciturnity, I ventured to hazard a surmise as to the cause, by charging her with over-anxiety for the fate of some absent lover; but had reason to repent of my freedom, when I saw her rise abruptly, and withdraw, with her eyes surcharged with tears. Therese, in reply to the apology which I felt it incumbent to make, briefly said, "Poor Jacqueline, she has many sorrows;" and with this I was compelled to be satisfied. A notification that supper was ready soon after called me to another apartment; and for the remainder of the evening one of the Vendéen boys was my only attendant.

The room set apart for my accommodation during the night was on the upper floor of the house; and, on my way to it, I had to traverse a labyrinthine succession of passages and galleries, which the faint light of the taper, carried by the garçon who acted as my conductor, peopled with a thousand spectral shadows. My couch was not merely comfortable but splendid; -the tapestry that covered the walls exhibited the gorgeous pageant of a tournament; and the toilette-table was of spotless marble; but. the chairs were rickety, and the floor uncarpeted, as French floors usually are, and laid with tiles. This was the sum of my observations; for, fatigued with my journey, I was glad to court repose.