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happened to you, Cousin Caroline, a great deal, better than fairy stories."

"Indeed, little coaxer? Then let us put all this finery away first, and when we are comfortably settled in the summer-house I will begin at the very beginning,' according to your wish and my established custom.'

"Oh! how nice that will be !" exclaimed the little girl, joyfully. I shall like it so much; for when the visitors come, I am afraid there will be no time for stories."

"No, my child; Cousin Caroline will have something else to do to-morrow, and for many days afterwards; so we will make the most of present opportunities-a wise plan in graver matters than story-telling."

Caroline Seymour was, as my little readers have probably discovered, considerably older than her young companion; indeed, she had for more than ten years been almost a mother to Emmy and her elder sister Alicia Ramsay, who had lost their own dear mamma when quite young. Mr. Ramsay still lived; but, as he was often away from home, bis niece had the chief management of the little household, and had been the principal companion and instructress of his two daughters. Alicia was to be married in a few days, much to the delight of little Emily, who was very partial to her future brotherin-law, James Kenyon, and looked forward to spending many happy days at the newly-built rectory, close by, which was now quite ready to be occupied by the young clergyman and his bride.

Having thus more particularly introduced the Ramsay family to my readers, it is time to follow little Emmy to the cool, shady summer-house by the lake, and listen with her to Cousin Caroline's account of her "first wedding."

Herbert married! You do not say so!' she continued, incredulously.

"I do not, my love; but the letter does, which I suppose is to be believed, as it is not the 1st of April.'

"Married?' echoed Miss Gibbs, mournfully, 'what a sad, sad pity!'

"And why so? I think him a lucky fellow to secure such a treasure as he describes. Whom do you pity, Miss Gibbs?' asked my father'the lady, or the happy man? I thought you liked my brother Herbert ?'

"So I do, Mr. Seymour; and always thought him very sensible for remaining single on the dear children's account."

"What children! Whose should he remain single for, pray?'

Yours,' said Miss Gibbs promptly; 'everybody expected them to come in to his property.' "Then everybody is quite in the wrong, and much to be blamed for such expectations. Pshaw! nonsense,' said my father, more goodhumouredly. "Who could wish a fine, handsome, kind-hearted fellow like Herbert to keep single and desolate in that large house of his, in order to make my children heiresses at his death? Carry, my dear, you don't want Uncle Herbert's money, I hope?"

"No, papa,' I answered at once, not quite understanding the subject under discussion, but particularly objecting to Miss Gibbs saying anything in disparagement of my dear, kind Uncle Herbert, who had always been like a second father to Charlotte and myself.

"That's right, my child; then you will be very pleased to hear that Uncle Herbert is going to be married early in July, and wants you and Charlotte to be his little bridesmaids. Won't that be an honour!'

"I ran off immediately to communicate all this important news to my elder sister, who was

"It was a great many years ago-ah! more than I sometimes believe possible, Emmy, so fresh is my remembrance of those old days-just when what I am going to tell you took place. We-that is, papa, mamma, Miss Gibbs, a friend of theirs, and myself-were still at the breakfasttable in the pretty morning-room at Ashley Court, when papa all at once produced a letter from his pocket, which had been there forgotten and unopened for two or three days.

"What is the matter, Edwin ?' inquired my

mother.

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'Why, wife, a great deal is the matter this time! What a stupid trick of mine! I am getting more forgetful than ever, I declare. Such an important letter, too,' he continued, glancing rapidly over its contents, to have kept all this time unopened, and consequently unanswered.'

"Who is it from? What is it about?' were the eager questions.

"From my brother Herbert: read it, my dear,' said my father, handing it to her, and looking himself immensely amused at the contents.

"Going to be married!' exclaimed my mother, with an expression of the most comical perplexity.

then an invalid, and generally a prisoner to the couch in our school-room. To my surprise and distress, the intelligence was received by Charlotte with a paroxysm of tears. I knew she was very weak, and thought that the announcement had been too hasty; but not that it was altogether unwelcome as well as unexpected. 'Are you not pleased with the prospect of being bridesmaid, Lottie?' I asked, when the sobs

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had a little subsided.

"I have not thought about that,' she answered, sorrowfully. I have been thinking of nothing but Uncle Herbert; dear Uncle is very wrong of him to get married when I am Herbert, who has always been so kind to us. It so fond of him, and

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"" Wrong? Why, Lottie, is it not very kind of him now, to ask his little nieces to be bridesmaids?" I remonstrated, rather indignantly.

"Sister Lottie gave me no answer; but, when I told her what Miss Gibbs had said about Uncle Herbert's money, she was quite as angry as papa had been.

"No, Carry; such a thought would not have come into my head, although, being older than you are, my dear,' she observed-with the

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you.

"And shall we never go to stay with him again? never have any hay-making parties and blackberry gatherings?'

"Oh! no, there will be an end to all that sort of fun, of course,' said Lottie, decidedly. "This was a very melancholy prospect for the future: I did not like it at all, and, influenced by my sister's arguments and persuasions, had arrived at the settled conviction that we should neither of us approve Uncle Herbert's choice, and should both resolutely refuse the invitation to be present at the ceremony, in the capacity of bridesmaids.

"Did you hear her name?' inquired Lottie, when we had come to this praiseworthy determination, and were more cheerful in consequence. "No; I know nothing more than I have told you, for I ran off before anything was said about the lady.'

"She's a horrid fright, I dare say,' said my sister pettishly.

"Poor lady, who is it you are abusing so unmercifully?"

"We both started at the voice. It was Uncle Herbert who spoke. Not able to understand why his letter had met with no reply, he had found his way over to inquire the reason and receive the congratulations which he expected from his brother's family.

"Well, who is the 'horrid fright,' Lottie?' "But neither Lottie nor I could give a satisfactory answer to the query: we both hung our heads and looked foolish.

“Well, well, I will not teaze my little favourites, or tell Miss Gibbs what you think of her,' said Uncle Herbert, good-humouredly. 'I am too happy, to make mischief. Your mamma told me you had heard the news; have you not a kiss or a word of congratulation for me, you monkeys?"

"He took me on his knees, and seated himself on the couch by my sister.

"Hey-day! red eyes; why what is it all about? Have you model sisters been fighting, for a change?'

"We never quarrel, as you ought to remember, Uncle Herbert,' said Lottie indignantly. Then, after a pause, she added, in somewhat

unsteady accents: We wish you every happiness, Uncle Herbert; but we would rather not be bridesmaids, thank you.'

"Her lip was still quivering, and I quite expected another burst of tears.

"Some inkling of the real cause of our discomposure seemed to dawn upon Uncle Herbert; for he immediately began to dilate upon the charms and accomplishments of the lady who was soon to be our aunt, and how anxious she was to make the acquaintance of his two dear nieces, and a great deal more, to which we were obliged to listen, with an amount of interest which we tried hard to conceal. In fact, when the long talk was over, and Uncle Herbert had assured us again that our visits at the park would be just as frequent, and he just as kind to us as ever, we were both most anxious to be introduced to the original of the portrait which was shown to us, and looked anything but a horrid fright.

"It was agreed that when Lottie was strong enough we should drive over with Uncle Herbert to the pretty cottage in which she was then living with quite an old lady, her grandmother, who, as we were told, was a very kind old lady, and particularly fond of little girls.

"Uncle Herbert stayed with us a week, and was, if possible, more merry and full of fun than ever, so that we quite forgave him for going to be married, and reconsidered our determination of absenting ourselves from his wedding.”

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And did you like the lady who was to be his wife?" said Emmy anxiously.

"I have loved few people as much, Emmy dear. We were good friends from the first happy day of our meeting to the last sad hour when I closed her eyes for ever."

"Oh! Cousin Caroline, did she die before marrying your Uncle Herbert?"

"No, dear; nor for many years afterwards. We had a merry, happy, wedding party, with nothing to mar the joy and contentment of any one of the few guests assembled to take a share in the ceremony. There were handsome presents in abundance, for the bride had long been an occupant of that pretty little cottage, and had won the friendship and esteem of all around her, from the children of the village school to the noble of the Manor Hall and Park, who had insisted upon performing a father's part, in giving her away at the altar. Though an orphan for some years, my new aunt was neither penniless nor friendless, and the most fastidious could find no reasonable objection to Uncle Herbert's choice. So he carried her from her home amidst the blessings and good wishes of all, and the bells rang a merry peal after them; whilst we young ones, loath to lay our pretty dresses on one side, resolved upon finishing the day with becoming festivities. We made the cottage walls re-echo our joyous laughter, chasing each other up the old oaken staircase, or hiding in some of its many odd nooks and corners; we danced on the lawn, we rambled through the woods and shrubberies of Manor Hall, doing, in fact, whatever the whim of the moment prompted us to do; the dear old lady, whose guests we

were, letting us follow our own bent, and entering heartily into our innocent enjoyment, although I know she must have grieved sorely for the young girl whom Uncle Herbert had stolen

from her."

"And who was the old lady?-her grandmamma, Cousin Caroline?"

"Yes, dear: they had lived together since my aunt was quite young-a little girl I mean; and, of course, it was hard to part from her, even for a few weeks, and though she had promised to leave her cottage and live in Uncle Herbert's beautiful house, for the sake of being near her darling, it was not quite the same as having her all to herself, in a home of her own. There now, we have idled long enough, Emmy, and I must not tell you about any more weddings today."

"Thank you, Cousin Caroline: it was a very nice story; but I want to know a great deal more than you have told me."

"Do you, you curious little puss? I declare you are never satisfied. I see the carriage in the distance though, so we must be moving towards the house, and see about tea. Papa and his companions will be quite ready for it, I am sure, after so much shopping. What questions can I answer on our road? What is there you particularly wish to know?"

"Well, tell me whether you and Cousin Charlotte often stayed with your Uncle Herbert and his wife?"

"Yes, dear; we lived at no great distance from them, and one or other of us was a constant guest at their house; for my aunt was unfortunately very delicate, and was often glad for one of us to relieve her, in a great measure, of her household cares and duties. Papa and mamma never said 'No,' if Uncle Herbert drove over with a petition for one of the girls' to return with him. At first, of course we were too young to be more than companions to Aunt Herbert; but time slipped on quickly, transforming us into young women and housekeepers."

"And when did Cousin Charlotte marry "Years ago; just when I had almost resolved never to be a bridesmaid any more. My father and mother died soon afterwards, Ashley Court passed into other hands, and then

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"Then what happened to you?" "Why, then a little girl, a tiny delicate baby, came to Uncle Herbert's home, and I was asked to live there, and help to take care of her."

"And did you go?" asked Emmy, looking perplexed and bewildered at this statement.

"Yes, Emmy, and never left her again. Eight years afterwards, just eleven years ago this last spring, another little baby girl was put into my arms by Uncle Herbert, and I wept bitterly as I kissed it, for that baby had no mother; she had gone home to the holy angels, leaving me the charge of her two children. You, my Emmy, and dear Alicia, can best tell if I have striven to do my duty by them."

Emmy looked up dubiously; then, suddenly throwing both arms round cousin Caroline, exclaimed,

"I see it all now; you dear, dear cousin Caroline; you have been telling me about my own papa and mamma, only you have called papa Herbert Seymour, instead of Horace Ramsay, and made him your papa's brother, instead of Aunt Seymour's. I meant to ask you a great deal more about him, but I know all that I want to know now. I wondered you never told me the name of the lady he married. I wish we had a portrait of poor mamma. I should so like to fancy her. Was she fair, like Alicia ?" "See, and judge for yourself, my child!" answered Caroline, leading the little girl to the dining-room, in which a substantial tea was already prepared.

"Here is an exact resemblance of your poor mother, as she looked on her wedding-day!"

"Oh! how lovely she must have been! But why was the picture never here before? Is this the portrait papa has always wanted to find, since the miniature which I never saw was lost?"

"Yes, the artist who painted it died before it was sent home. Many of his pictures were stolen, this amongst them; but it was recently discovered exposed for sale, in a shop-window, and here it is, fortunately, just in time to smile down upon Alicia and her wedding guests. May her blessing rest on both my children then and ever," said cousin Caroline, fondly.

"Ah! I hear papa's voice: run and meet him, and send Mr. Kenyon to me. When the wedding is over, and the house quiet again, I will tell you some more 'true stories of your dear mamma."

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BOSWELL'S INTRODUCTION TO JOHNSON.

They met in the back parlour of Davies, the bookseller's shop in Great Russell-street, where Boswell, "toujours un gentilhomme," according to his own account, had condescended to drink tea. Boswell saw Johnson through a glass door communicating with the shop, and had time to whisper to Davies, "Don't tell where I come from," recollecting the doctor's hatred of the Scotch. "Mr. Boswell, from Scotland," cried the bookseller and actor, archly. Let Boswell tell the rest himself, for no one but himself can do his own meanness justice. "Mr. Johnson," said I, "I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it." I am willing to flatter myself that I meant this as light pleasantry to soothe and conciliate him, and not as any humiliating a basement at the expense of my country. But, however that might be, this speech was somewhat unlucky, for, with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression "come from Scotland," which I used in the sense of being of that country, and as if I had said that I had come away from it or left it, retorted, "That, sir, I find is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot help." This stroke stunned me a good deal, and when we sat down I felt myself not a little embarrassed and apprehensive of what might come next. Having thus foresworn his country, the young Scot soon found his way to No. 1, Inner Temple Lane, where Johnson then lived in chambers; and thus began that acquaintance to which the world owes the most telling piece of biography ever given to an English public.-The Queens of Society.

OUR LIBRARY TABLE.

thirteen fires-twelve (Apostles) in a circle, and a
On the eve of Old Christmas Day are lighted
Igrger one round a pole in the centre (the Virgin
Mary). While these fires are burning, the farm-
labourers witness the brightness of the Apostolic
and Virgin flames from some shed, into which they
lead a cow, on whose horns a large plum-cake has
been stuck. The oldest labourer, taking a pail of
cider, addresses the cow thus:

"Here's to thy pretty face and thy white horn!
God send thy master a crop of corn!-
Both wheat, rye, and barley, and all sorts of grain!
And next year, if we live, we'll drink to thee again!

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SOMETHING FOR EVERYBODY; OR, A GAR- | a one as the hearth would admit of; and he LAND FOR THE YEAR. By John Timbs, F.S.A. adds, that Hagmond Abbey, near Shrewsbury, (London: Lockwood and Co., Stationers' Hall was burnt down, during the times of the civil Court.)-The title of this volume fairly expresses wars, through kindling too great a yule-log. its contents. Full of curious and varied crumbs In Herefordshire, where some of the Romish of information such as fall only in the way of and feudal ceremonies are, or were lately, pracmen of letters, it is impossible to turn a page | tised, Mr. Timbs tells us : without falling on a fact or anecdote new to the generality of readers. The harvest of a long season of literary labour, of extensive reading, and personal observation and remembrance, is here partly garnered; for, as our readers are aware, many valuable volumes of the same character have already appeared by the same erudite and indefatigable compiler. Such books, though they do not take rank with original works, are frequently, as is the case with the present volume, infinitely more useful than a large majority of those which are; bringing, as they do, the curiosities of literature from the upper shelves of museums and other difficult The cider is then dashed in the face of the cow, places, to the fire-side, and the sunny window-who, by a toss of the head, generally throws the seats of family sitting-rooms; letting young readers into the quaint customs of the past, throwing light on almost-forgotten usages, giving meaning to phrases the sense of which had well nigh been forgotten. Thus we learn that the absurd practice of making April Fools is supposed to have originated in the festival which was held at the time of the vernal equinox, or "first day of the month" of the Jews; on which day, according to their traditions, Noah sent the dove out of the ark on its bootless mission. Hence the catching and sending persons on fictitious errands on the first of April-a jest still maintained in many places, and exceedingly enjoyed by young people. So we find Mimicry, perpetuating by simulation, the memory of remarkable events which could not otherwise have been preserved. In this way, as we all know, arose the miracle-plays of the Roman Church, in which the people were taught the principal events of the Old and New Testaments by seeing them acted by the priests. And even subsequently to the art of printing, the vulgar have been prone to continue this mode of commemoration of which the wearing of oak leaves on the 29th of May, in remembrance of the restoration of Charles II., and the still popular procession of Guy Fawkes, are amongst the latest illustrations. We had supposed ourselves in possession of a goodly quantity of the old-world lore hived in these pages; but Mr. Timbs's volumes can throw light occasionally on Strut and Stukely, and even on Brand and Fosbroke themselves; and will prove of real value even to literary readers, who will here find themselves spared the trouble of much labour and research on a great variety of matters. Speaking of the yule-log, our author tells us, that, as the servants were entitled to ale at their meals while the log lasted, they usually endeavoured to get as large

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plum-cake on the ground. If it falls forward, it is
an omen of a good harvest next year; if backward,
that it will be unfavourable. This commences a
feast which is usually kept up till the next morning.
The first part of this ceremony reminds us of
Christmas eve, the colliers in the neighbourhood
one which we heard of in Shropshire.
of Oswestry have a custom of making a cake
of clay, in the centre of which they place
more smaller
a large candle, with fifty or
ones around it. This, when lighted, they
carry to the threshold of every door, and,
call a star: and the custom doubtless re-
kneeling down, sing around it. This they
ferred to the appearance of the bright one
in the East, that went before the shepherd-kings
to Jerusalem. There seems more relevance in
this custom to the season than in the Hereford-
them. With the colliers it serves as an occa-
shire ceremony, and yet a faint likeness between
sion for obtaining wassail or drink-money. Mr.
Timbs proves the use of the Christmas-tree to
be of much older date in England than we have
been accustomed to suppose it, and reminds us
that Stowe, in giving an account of a great
turies ago, speaks of its rooting-up a standard-
storm on Candlemas Day, more than four cen-
tree on Cornhill, which was full of holme (holly)
and ivy for Christmas.

And it is thought [observes our author] that the Christmas-tree may be traced to a period long antecedent to the Christian era, namely to that cradle of civilization, Egypt. The palm-tree is known to put forth a shoot every month; and a spray of this tree, with twelve shoots on it, was used in Egypt at the time of the winter solstice, as a symbol of the

year completed.

The palm-tree spray of Egypt, on reaching
Italy, was imitated by the tip of the pyramidal

fir, and was decorated with lighted tapers, in honour of Saturn. On the other hand, in Germany (from which country we have undoubtedly brought the revival of the custom of dressing Christmas-trees) they use as many pyramids as trees. They are formed of slips of wood, arranged pyramidically, on which the toys are arranged, with green paper laid amongst them in imitation of leaves. Amongst other littleknown local customs connected with Christmas, we are reminded that

Dr. Stukeley said, only a century ago, "On the eve of Christmas Day, at York, they carry mistletoe to the high altar of the Cathedral, and proclaim a public and universal liberty, pardon, and freedom to all sorts of inferior and even wicked people, at the gates of the city, towards the four quarters of heaven."

What a mingling have we, in this ceremony, of
pagan rites with a corruption of Christian prin-
ciples! Amongst other singular customs,
"More honoured in the breach than the observance,"
mention is made of "Crack-nut Sunday," or the
Sunday next before the eve of St. Michael's
Day, when

Within the memory of aged parishioners of Kingston-upon-Thames, the congregation in the parish-church were accustomed to crack nuts during Divine service. Young and old folks alike joined in the cracking. But [observes Mr. Timbs] the oddity was not peculiar to Kingston, for Goldsmith makes his Vicar of Wakefield say of his parishioners, "They kept up the Christmas-carol, sent true-love knots on Valentine morning, ate pancakes at Shrovetide, showed their wit on the first of April, and religiously cracked nuts on Michaelmas eve."

Yet, with due deference to the learned writer, there is a great distinction in cracking nuts on the eve of the saint's day, and cracking them during the service at church on the Sunday before; and so we are fain to think that the oddity was peculiar to the pretty river-side town. Of such amusing and interesting details our readers will find a rich feast in the volume before us. "The May-day," "The Well-dressings," "Mothering Sunday," and a host of other poetical and pretty fashions, are either dead or dying out before the utilitarian spirit of the Present, which marches on, overturning and throwing on one side all that is not strictly sensible and strictly necessary; as if God himself had not sprinkled poppies and blue-bells amongst the growing corn: so every day is rendering more precious these records of the past, with which soon very few of us will have any personal acquaintance. MAGNET STORIES, No. 16. "LOST IN THE WOOD." By Mrs. Alex. Gilchrist. (Groombridge and Sons, Paternoster-row.)-Mrs. Gilchrist's addition to the Magnet Stories fully sustains the character of the series. The remembrances of the childhood of their elders is always delightful to children; such recitals separate the distance between them, and awaken sympathies which no other themes can do. To

hear of what mamma or papa did when they were little children, to know that they, too, had their tasks and troubles and adventures like themselves, creates a new bond of sympathy between them, bridges the years, and makes the childhood of their parents identical with their How warmly the little palms press ours; how closely they lean against us, listening to such remembrances-which Nature herself, as they are ever the purest and gentlest, designs to be our latest! We babble of green fields at the last.

own.

THE LIFE-BOAT: A Journal of the National

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Life-Boat Institution. (Wm. Clowes and Son, Stamford-street; Charing-cross.)-We do not take up this journal with a view to its literary merits. It possesses even stronger grounds for public support in the simple fact of brave men by whose aid this, perhaps that it registers the valuable and heroic services the most noble of all our public institutions for the succour of distressed humanity, is rendered actively efficient. If the urgency of the need and the perilousness of the service be considered, not even the calamity of fire on shore can equal in its pitiless exigence the almost hopeless horror of shipwreck on our coasts, where the violence of the sea and the rugged nature of the coast itself denies all but the merest chance of escape, to the stranded vessel or her ordinary boats. Should the disaster happen in the vicinity of one of the Society's stations (of which there are 112 on the coasts of the United Kingdom), no matter how high the sea runs, how hoarsely the wind raves, or the breakers roar among the rocks, a crew is never wanting to man the life-boat. Even landsmen volunteer, and hazard life and limb in the endeavour to save the perishing sailors, to whom, but for their providential succour, no help cometh." What were the number of those who annually perished by shipwreck in the narrow seas, and on the tration of such tragical statistics, we have no coasts of the United Kingdom, before the registhe improvement in our mercantile navy, the means of learning. At present, notwithstanding system of certificated officers, 'excellent charts, light-houses, light-ships, buoys, and all other appliances which philanthropy and science have introduced-life-boats, Manby's apparatus, lifebelts, &c., &c.-no less than 700 human beings waters of the United Kingdom alone. During are annually drowned on the shores and in the the past winter I find the number of persons saved by the boats of the National Life-Boat Institution to amount to no less than 203, and the note of the wreck of the "Hortensia," shore on the North Steel Rocks, Boulmer, Northumberland, does not give the number of the crew saved. It is, therefore, with much regret, notwithstanding individual donations and bequests, that we find the committee ordering the sale of £1,000 stock from the funded capital of the institution. The outlays of the institution are ever in advance of the receipts, and yet, from all the seaward parts of Great Britain constant requisitions are being made for larger

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