THE FOREST QUEEN BY MRS. F. B. SCOTT. "See where she stands—a mortal shape; indued With love, and life, and light !"-SHELLEY. Oh, a fearless queen is the Forest Queen, When Spring, her favoured friend draws near, And from darksome lids she brushes the tear, Of acorn buds is her simple crown, Her subjects are Nature's own; And the vampires of this world, Scorn and Hate, The sunbeams around her are blithe and free, Her sceptre's a willow wand, But little needed, I trow; She has but to stretch out her regal hand, They come when the glad day beams, To her quiet and cool retreat; Laughing, she bends from the greenwood tree, To gaze on her image, so bright and so free! The Wind, with his mighty roar, Sweeps rudely across her breast; Mournful and mild, doth swell Then a touch of queenly dignity, O'er her clear, majestic brow; Or pinch her cheek with care; Bends down her tender eyes; Gazing, as rapt on that changeless face Which the touch of Time defies: And her children, each tiny star, From their crystal couch peep out; And genial airs from regions afar Wander her round about. So lovely, beloved, and loving is she, They clothe their hearts with youth's holy dreams, Long flourish our Queen! in the days of old As they rest near her sheltering feet. Earth's most natural Queen is she, As she rules in peace 'neath the greenwood tree! She calleth a voice from the friendly hills, And gently answer the gushing rills, And manhood's world-worn breast gives way; Beam back the hopes which know not decay, But are brighter when bathed in tears. A magical, heart-stirring Queen is she, The bugle and huntsman's sport; To watch the flight of her own wild bird, And coquet with her maidens beneath the oak tree All hail to her still! the laugh and the dance Turning sorrow to joy 'neath the greenwood tree! Inspired by her smile, by her kindly glance, When pale Dian sheds her silvery light, She stretches her arms o'er the plain; And a band of spirits, joyous and bright, With pipes of the musical water reed, Dancing away o'er the cowslip'd mead, A matronly, warm-hearted Queen is she, But when the twilight, misty and grey, They wing towards their star-lit homes. As in days of chivalry. And we'll wander her shores along, Drinking deep from Life's beautiful springs Revelling-bathing in ancient song, Or in poet's imaginings. For never can Life seem so pure and so free, Ye kind ones! ever her memory keep Visit, like pilgrims, with feelings deep Acknowledge her sway; and the gentle flow'rs, A MAN WITH TWO STRINGS TO HIS BOW. (An American Tale.) BY EPES SARGENT. "Always, my dear Ned, always be sure and have two strings to your bow," was among the last exhortations of old Simon Plausible to his only son and heir. Ned did not require any such advice; for it had long been one of the leading articles of his moral code. He began the practice of it in the nursery, and continued it through life. The maxim always came in play, at every step of any consequence which he took. When a boy at the Rev. Mr. Drubber's seminary, the class to which he belonged were on one occasion undergoing an examination in Virgil. A distribution of medals depended upon the result, and some of the dignitaries of the city were present. Ned had studied that portion of the Georgics in which he and his companions were to be tried, with great assiduity, until, as he believed, he was perfect in every verse. "It is the best policy, however," said Ned to himself, "to have two strings to one's bow. I may as well take my printed translation with me. I can keep it snug in my jacket pocket; and if I find I am likely to stick at any passage, I can just glance at the English version, and recover myself." Now, it is probably among the juvenile reminiscences of my readers, that the act of bringing a printed or written translation to recitation is a high penal offence on the part of a school-boy. Our friend Ned did not require any such aid. He had an excellent memory, and was a hard studentwhat his rivals called "a dig." In the present instance he had made himself thoroughly perfect in those passages of the great Latin author, which were to be construed by the class. But Ned thought it best to have two strings to his bow. What was the result? He had passed triumphantly through his examination without once having occasion to take a clandestine peep at his English version. He had won the topmost place in his class; and now awaited in victorious expectation the delivery of the medals. Already were they glistening, with their blue silk ribbons attached, in the hands of one of the committee, when a hateful little usher, whom the boys had nicknamed "Old Dot-andcarry-one," from an impediment in his gait, started up, and throwing back the collar of his coat, and fixing his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, bowed to Dr. Drubber and the committee, and remarked, that with heir permission he would put a question or two to Master Plausible. Supposing that the interrogatory would relate to the passing of some sentence or the scanning of some line, Ned came forward with a confident smirk to where Mr. Dot-and-carry-one was standing. The latter assumed a diabolical smile as he witnessed the assured and self-complacent de meanour of his victim, "Allow me to inquire, sir," said the usher, "whether that is not a translation of the Georgics, which I see protruding from your pocket?" "This, sir?" asked Ned, with a faint smile, pulling forth a small almanac from a side-pocket, and attempting to thrust into concealment the obtrusive translation"this is nothing but an al-l-l-manac. It is very useful, you see, sir, for❞— "Oh, I don't doubt it in the least," interrupted the usher. But I had reference to those printed sheets-there-not in your pantaloon pocket, but in your jacket." "Oh, these!" said Ned, crumbling some of the loose leaves in his hand, and bending a compassionate and somewhat derisive smile upon the usher, "these I placed there for wadding. My father, sir, has given me permission to go on to Long Island this afternoon, a-shooting." "Ah, indeed! Pray let me examine the quality of the wadding you use. I am a sportsman myself sometimes." Poor Ned turned pale, and began to tremble. But he was fertile in subterfuges; and he replied, "The fact is, sir, that being the owner of an old translation of Virgil, and not wishing to be tempted to refer to it in my studies, I tore it up for the purpose I have mentioned." The excuse would not answer. The remorseless usher insisted upon seeing the sheets. They were at length produced and found to correspond with that portion of the Georgics upon which the class were engaged. Master Plausible not only lost the medal which would have been his, but he was disgraced before the whole school, including the examining committee. This was one of the results of his having two strings to his bow. But the cir cumstance did not cause him to abandon his favourite policy. On quitting college, it became necessary that he should choose a profession; for his father had died and left him nothing but the advice contained in the old proverb, which we have seen him carry into practice. Ned's tastes and predilections led him to decide in favour of devoting himself to the law. But he had an uncle, who was a physician, and who offered to educate him gratuitously. The consequence was, that our hero determined to study law and medicine at one and the same time; in short, to have two strings to his bow; because, said he to himself, if I find clients are scarce, I can then easily turn doctor. But when, at the termination of three years, he was admitted to practise at the bar, he discovered to his astonishment that all the persons from whom he solicited business, seemed to have the impression that his medical qualifications exceeded his legal. Ned was always of an accommodating disposition; and, finding that popular prejudice seemed to run in favour of his Esculapian talents, he informed his friends and the public that in obe dience to their wishes he had turned physician. But it would not do. Those who had doubted his legal attainments were far more distrustful of his medical skill. He was looked upon as neither fish nor flesh-neither lawyer nor doctor. In vain, acting upon his favourite principle, did he advertise that he treated patients both homœo At one of the brilliant balls, which at late hours on winter nights startle the pedestrian in Broadway, by the sound of music and feet that beat the floor in the hall of the Washington Hotel-at one of those select and refined assemblies, Ned sought, and, without much difficulty, procured an introduction to the daughter of a retired victualler; and as we cannot at this moment distinctly recall her name, we will, for convenience sake, designate her as Miss Cutlet. She was young, pretty, and blooming; but her great charm, at least in Ned's eyes, lay in the fact that she was heiress to some hundreds of thousands of dollars. What though her hands and feet were apparently made rather for use than ornament? What though a sight of the extraordinary style of hair-dressing to which she seemed to be partial would have given the im Failing in his professional attempts, he directed his attention to politics. He did not lack what the French call a flux de bouche, which in John Bull's less refined tongue, may be rendered, gift of the gab. His début at Tammany Hall was immensely successful. A few catch-words were occasionally heard overtopping the level and inaudible portion of his speech, and these never failed to bring down acclamations of applause. Had any one attempted to report the harangue, he would have had to trust to his imagination for all the words that filled up the interstices between the following: "Heroes of '76-bone and muscle of the land-mortal Grandjean a violent attack of dyspepsia? New Orleans-silk-stocking gentry-our democratic brethren-Waterloo defeat-Federalism-Federal aristocrats-nail our flag to the mast-victory is ours." On the strength of these very original and emphatic phrases (for they constituted the whole of his speech that could be distinctly heard), Ned acquired quite a reputation-in the newspapers. He soon began to be regarded politically as a rising young man; and some influential members of his party even canvassed the propriety of giving him the nomination to Congress. Unluckily for Ned, at this moment, an agent of the opposite party ventured to sound the depths of his political fidelity, by intimating to him that if he would quit his Tammany friends for the Whigs, the latter would reward him for his apostacy by sending him as their representative to Washington. "It is always safest to have two strings to one's bow," said Ned to himself, as he reflected upon the proposal. "If Tammany does n't nominate me, the Whigs will, if I will only join them. My best course is, to keep good friends with the managers on both sides, and so, if I am dropped by one, the other will take me up. Ay, that will be my true policy-to stand ready to jump either side of the fence." And congratulating himself upon his astuteness, Ned undertook to avail himself of the favourable intentions of both parties in regard to the nomination. But he who attempts to sit upon two stools is likely to fall to the ground; and Ned's experience verified the proverb; for Tammany, on learning that he was tampering with the enemy, repudiated him; and the Whigs, like other parties, though generally lenient towards apostates, refused to receive him into their ranks in any capacity but that of a subaltern. His political plans having failed utterly, Ned, as a last resort to means for advancing his fortunes, resolved upon matrimony. To give him his due, he was a man of personal exterior and captivating address. Few could make their way in society more adroitly than he. But he was by no means infallible. Through a too precipitate confidence in his success, he encountered three or four flat refusals from young ladies who were regarded as extremely "eligible." These rebuffs taught him caution and humility; and he changed his tactics. Fortune seemed to smile upon him at length. What though Mademoiselle Armand would have fainted at the spectacle of her tournure? Put these frivolous objections in one scale and her butcher's and drover's bank stock in the other, and who would doubt that the objections would kick the beam? As for Ned, the subject did not admit of a question in his mind. After a discreet courtship of a month's duration, he made an avowal to the lady of the desperate state of his affections, and received in return her consent to become Mrs. Plausible. And now there seemed nothing but smooth sailing for Ned. He had nothing to do but go through a very simple, and by no means fatiguing ceremony. slip a cheap gold ring on his bride's finger, and then he could walk into old Cutlet's house, hang up his hat, and make it his home. Such seemed the fate in store for our hero. Alas! we know not what mockery the future may make of our plans. And yet, "Look into those they call unfortunate, And, nearer viewed, you'll find they've been unwise." In an evil hour Ned visited Philadelphia on some small business for his intended father-in-law. As he was promenading Chesnut-street, he met an old classmate, who had risen to distinction at the bar by exclusive and unremitted devotion to his profession. "What, Ned! Is it you? I am gad to see you," exclaimed the Philadelphian. "Ha! Clingstone! Fred! How are you? delighted to take you by the hand again!" "When did you arrive in the city, and where have you put up? And why the deuce didn't you come and bivouac with me in Spruce-street!" "I arrived last night-put up at Jones's-and didn't bivouac upon you for various reasons; the first of which was, that I didn't know you lived in the city; the second-" "I will hear the rest another time," replied Clingstone. "But, my dear fellow, you must dine with me to-day. I wish to introduce you to my wife, who is very fond of questioning my old classmates. Besides, now I think of it, a beautiful girl will be our guest-a Miss Hope-did you ever see her?" "Not as I recollect." "Well, she is an heiress, besides being very pretty. A hundred thousand in her own right is the very least that she can call her own." "A hundred thousand?" "And no mistake!" "In her own right?" arrangements, it will decidedly be my best plan to have two strings to my bow. And then there is the chance of one of the girls jilting me! It is well to be provided against such a contingency. If her fortune were only equal to the other's, I would vastly prefer Miss Hope. I will secure the promise of her hand, so as to frighten off her other "Aye; most unquestionably in her own right. wooers, and then deliberately investigate matters But perhaps you are married?" "No." "Engaged? "Ahem! N-n--n-no!" "The "no" stuck in Ned's throat, but he gave it utterance. And what was his object in prevaricating? He himself hardly knew, for he had not had time to mature any decided plan. Perhaps it was his evil genius with the two strings to his bow, who prompted him to the act. Ned dined that day with his friend Clingstone, and was introduced to Miss Hope. What a contrast as to personal appearance and demeanour, did she present in our hero's eyes to the victualler's daughter! Beautiful and well-bred, there was another advantage which she possessed over her bowery rival-her property was in her own right, and not contingent upon the whims, physical and mental, of a close-fisted and capricious father. Clingstone took his newly-found classmate to a party that night, and there the latter again found Miss Hope. Ned soon discovered that a number of suitors of by no means contemptible pretensions were in her train; and, as fortune would have it, the lady manifested a very decided partiality for himself. This was embarrassing. Should he take advantage of the favourable impression he had produced, and follow it up, notwithstanding his oaths of fealty to Miss Cutlet? Ned looked long and intently at this many-sided question. Miss Cutlet was too valuable a prize to part with lightly, for she was an only daughter, and her father was reputed to be a millionaire. But then the old fellow might live these twenty years, or marry his housekeeper, and have a number of "little responsibilities" to share his estate; and then, if we may borrow our hero's expressive language," he would cut up lean." On the other hand, Miss Hope had what she had not merely in prospect, but in possession. There were solid acres, and buildings of substantial brick, and coal mines of inexhaustible capacity, which she could point to, and call her own. After canvassing the matter in his mind the better part of a night, while he was tossing in bed, Ned came to a most notable and characteristic conclu sion. "What is to prevent my having two strings to my bow?" said he, elated at the brilliancy and sagacity of the conception. "I can then, any time within the next six months, decide as to which one I will marry. It would be prudent to inquire a little more closely into old Cutlet's dividends; and I would like to make some further investigations into the state and average revenue of Miss H.'s coal mines. But there are so many flutterers about her path now, that unless I engage myself at once, I shall lose the chance. Yes, as I have 3ix months before me to think about it, and examine into the comparative advantages of the two to ascertain whether it will answer for me to marry her. Perhaps things will turn out better than I expect; and if so-By the way, how lucky it is that Miss C. has no brother to call me out for deserting her! Well; it can't be helped. I oughtn't to sacrifice myself for a trifle. The highest bidder shall have me, let who may be disappointed." In the midst of these soothing and highly moral meditations, Ned sank to sleep. He woke the next day to put his resolve into immediate execution. After a few weeks' wooing, he succeeded in his object; and interchanged with Miss Hope promises of marriage. Behold him now once more with two strings to his bow. He rightly calculated that the two ladies, residing in different cities, and moving in altogether different circles, would not be likely to hear of each other's engagements from common report. He consequently felt quite secure in the game which he was carrying on; and played the lover to both with an unexceptionable degree of assiduity, writing them the most flaming billetsdoux, and running in debt to purchase them bouquets and serenades. But a man with two strings to his bow ought to have an infallible memory. Absence of mind is a failing to which he should never be subject. Ned lived to afford an illustration of the importance of this advice. One day he accidently misdirected the letters to his two "strings." Miss Cutlet received a billet, in which he expressed his regret at his inability to visit Philadelphia, and made protestations of eternal constancy to his dear "Julia." Miss Hope, on the other hand, was informed that the writer could not accompany her to Niblo's that evening, as he was obliged to visit Philadelphia on business of importance; but that he was her ever devoted and faithful " E. P." It is unnecessary to say that both the young ladies were puzzled and confounded on receiving the misdirected notes. In the one received by her who was his last and most highly prized conquest, the address of Miss Cutlet, with the number and street of her residence, was added at the bottom of the sheet. Miss Hope, who was truly a girl of spirit and intelligence, notwithstanding the fact that she had been duped by our hero, immediately adopted the most straightforward and satisfactory means of informing herself in regard to her lover's duplicity. She started for New York, and called upon her rival. An interview succeeded, in which both were thoroughly satisfied as to the character and conduct of Mr. Plausible. Miss Hope immediately returned to Philadelphia; and the victualler's daughter had scarcely time to compose her features, before the "gentleman with two strings to his bow" was announced. It should be remarked in anticipation, that the two maidens, before they parted, had agreed in regard to the course they would each adopt towards their audacious suitor With a more than usually self-assured smirk Ned advanced to embrace his Bowery beauty. She gently repelled his familiarities, and, turning away her head, muttered in an "aside" intended to be heard," How shall I ever reveal it to him?" “Nay, what is the meaning of all this? How have I offended? Why do you repel me?" exclaimed Ned with his habitual volubility. "It will be too dreadfully harrowing to his feelings!" muttered Miss Cutlet. "Harrowing to my feelings! Amanda-what do you mean?" Explain yourself "Alas! can you bear the news that will separate us for ever?" "Nonsense! out with it! I can bear anything." "Know then, sir, that I have another young man in my eye, whom I would rather marry than yourself if you please." "The devil!" muttered Ned to himself. We must abridge our description of the remainder of the interview. In vain did our hero tenderly plead and loudly threaten. He found that arguments and expostulations were all of no use. "How lucky," thought he, as he abandoned the hope of retaining Amanda as one of his "strings," "how lucky that I foresaw a contingency of this kind, and provided myself with two strings to my bow!" Early the next morning he hastened to Philadelphia, and went to throw himself at the feet of Miss Hope. On being ushered into the drawing-room, he saw, to his amazement, that she was seated on the sofa, while by her side a fashionably-dressed young man was lying with his head in her lap. As Ned entered the apartment, the recumbent youth lazily raised his eyes, and regarded him with a supercilious air. Our hero directed a glance of inquiry at the lady. She did not appear to be in the least discomposed, but with perfect sang-froid, and without rising from the sofa, said— "Lift up your head, Clarence! This is Mr. Plausible. How do you do, Mr. Plausible? Mr. Plausible, Mr. Romaine Mr. Romaine, Mr. Plausible." Ned bowed coldly, and assumed a very serious look. As for Mr. Clarence, he seemed so well satisfied with the resting-place which his head had found, that not even the entrance of a stranger could induce him to give it up. He simply nodded at Ned with a careless "Ah! how d'ye do," and then familiarly wound his fingers through the luxuriant tresses which hung from the lady's forehead. "Who the deuce is Mr. Romaine?" thought our hero. "A brother? No. His name declares that to be impossible. A brother-in-law? Julia never told me that she had a sister. Who can he be? Confusion! he has pulled down her head to his, and is kissing her most voraciously." Ned thought it time to make a remark, inasmuch as neither of the parties seemed to regard his presence. "Mr. Romaine is a near relative, I presume, Julia ?" "Oh, no-not the most distant," she replied. "Ahem! Then I must say, Julia, that if he sn't a brother, or at least a cousin" "Well, sir, what must you say?" exclaimed Mr. Romaine, starting suddenly to his feet, and marching close up to poor Ned, till he recoiled some paces lest his toes should be trodden upon. "What must you say, sir?" repeated Mr. Romaine, stamping his feet, and to all appearance in a towering rage. "I was merely about taking the liberty to remark, sir," said Ned deprecatingly (for he was a bit of a coward), "to remark, that for an engaged lady, Miss Julia seemed to me rather too affectionate towards a gentleman who is not her lover or near kinsman." "And how do you know, sir, that I am not her lover?" exclaimed Mr. Romaine, shaking both fists in Mr. Plausible's face. "Because, sir," replied the latter, "I have the good fortune to stand in that position towards the lady myself." Well, sir, and what then?" asked Mr. Ro maine. "Yes, and what then?" re-echoed Julia. "Ahem! It may be a prejudice on my part," said Ned, "but I have always thought it customary for an engaged lady to confine her blandishments to a single lover." "What! and hasn't a lady the privilege of having two strings to her bow ?" exclaimed Julia. "Yes, answer that!" screamed Mr. Romaine, advancing upon poor Ned so rapidly, that in his backward retreat he stumbled over an ottoman, and fell at full length upon the floor. Mr. Plausible rapidly picked himself up, and seized his hat. Julia's last interrogation had convinced him that his double dealing had been discovered, and that his game was lost. Another circumstance that accelerated his movement was the fact of seeing Mr. Romaine lay hold of a stout cane, and turn up the sleeve of his coat. Ned did not stop to inquire as to his intentions, but took his leave at once, without standing upon the order of his going. | Had he listened as he closed the door, he might have heard Julia exclaim-" Bravely acted, Harriet! He did not for a moment suspect that you were a woman!" One would think that Ned had by this time grown tired of having two strings to his bow. But it is hard to teach an old dog new tricks. He was no longer as young as he had been once. The last, and perhaps the most notable instance wherein he illustrated the proverb, partook of the melancholy as well as of the ludicrous. He had been visited with an acute disease which required prompt and efficient treatment; and in the hurry and excitement attendant upon the attack, two rival physicians had been sent for. One of them had come, and left a prescription just as the second one had arrived. The latter sneered at the mode of treatment of his predecessor, and adopted one precisely contrary. The two messengers, who had been dispatched to the apothecary's, returned about the same time, and brought into the sick man's room two different mixtures in vials. For a long time Ned was puzzled as to which he should take. At length the old proverb, which had been his bane all his life long, shot into his head. |