And what is your fortune, my pretty maid,
What is your fortune, my pretty maid?
My face is my fortune, sir, she said;
Sir, she said; sir, she said;

My face is my fortune, sir, she said.

O then I will marry you, my pretty maid,
O then I will marry you, my pretty maid!
Nobody axed you, sir, she said;
Sir, she said; sir, she said;
Nobody axed you, sir, she said!"

The late Sir F. T. V. was as eccentric in his early days as in later years of his eventful life. Once returning from his daily ride, at his fine place in the north, his idle musings were interrupted by observing the light and upright carriage of a young female, who like himself was approaching the house, and, being in advance, was open to his undisturbed observation.

Among the baronet's many fancies was a passionate admiration of an elegant gait, whether in man or woman.

The individual before him excelled so preeminently, that her simple village dress seemed rather to adorn her than deduct from her attractions.

He carefully kept in the rear, and, to his delight, observed that she entered his own house, A- Hall.

Sir F. also reached home, and with the cream of the impetuosity concentrated into one hour, summoned the housekeeper of his bachelor establishment.

"What female stranger has arrived at the hall this morning?"

"None, sir," was the reply.

His ready anger blazed. "I tell you that a stranger has come here, is here now, and desire to speak with her on the instant."

I

April 21. The housekeeper requested leave again to make inquiry, and after being absent some short time, returned, and said to the impatient baronet, "I have made all inquiry, sir, and am convinced that not a stranger has arrived this morning; the only female who has come in within the last half hour, is our own under-dairy maid; she went to Keswick early in the day, and, as have made out, was on her way back to the hall, sir, at the time you name."

I

"Send her to me," cried the eccentric baronet. "No, stay-attend-let her come up the sweep-see-bid her go through the gardens; you and she can do so entering the north gate-then come you slowly up the sweep, so that you are full in sight; and mind no arm-in-arming. Let her walk alone, so I shall see if she be stranger to me, or the one I have seen to-day."

The orders were obeyed implicitly. The fair maid's gait was still perfection-she proved to be the tall and upright figure which had struck his eye. His resolution was as prompt as hazardous; within the hour he offered her his hand, an honour far too high and unexpected to be slighted or declined by her; but whether this wild match and ill.

* New reading.

assorted marriage produced happiness, may well be held in doubt by those who did not know the parties, and scarcely will by those who had that privilege.

April 22-Curiosities of Literature,—not D'Israeli's.-The following very appropriate lines were found affixed to the beautiful gate of the white Friars in Stamford, in 1825, in apparent allusion to the new use (that of the infirmary, recently erected, and chiefly at the expense of the late Mr. Fryer, surgeon) of the site of the old monastery of White Friars.

"Where once the white-rob'd friar, with priestly

state

Held his high rule within his hallowed gate,
Another Fryer shall reign with healing skill,
And this blessed site continue Fryer's still."
April 23.-Another Inscription, not affixed.
"Of cordials good, to soothe life's pains,
Here Friars erst had all some;
And still the place its use retains,

We too try Fryer's Balsam.'"

April 24th. As easy as child's play.-A sage and nice observer once declared that the hardest task which could be imposed upon the grown man's strength, would be close imitation all the livelong day of every pastime, antic, gambol, action, nondescript and varied, which a healthy child will follow up with untamed pleasure and untired glee. Mark but his actions.

See he climbs, and ever, where access is steepest, must he climb: then he will crawl, and still the place selected is the least inviting, where scarce a bird might come, a mouse hope to creep.

Anon the race-the streamlet-birds and their nursing nests-first feats of budding strength-young emulation of the man's em. ploy-anticipation free of future care in gravest mimicry; actions all infinite, and each incessant ; finger, foot, and eye, are all engaged, and tireless they, for "play can never tire!" Thus is the ball kept up, till gentle sleep steals on, purloins his tiny strength, and binds his will with the sole bands (though silken) which can hold him from his play.

And such the infant's pastime !

April 25.-Cross Roads and Cross Questions.-Scene, a cross road, where four lanes meet-guide-post not a way, but the inscription is lost-time nightfail, drizzling rain beginning to fall. Enter a gentleman on a tired horse, and a ragged boy, with a birdclapper in his hand, and an empty bread-andcheese wallet slung across his shoulders.

Gent. (Gazing about him.) " Which is the way to Enderby ?"

Boy. (Staring at him.) "Mavis, Bag, or Wood, sir?" "Which is the way

Gent. (Impatiently.) to Enderby?"

Boy. (Emphatically.) Wood, sir ?"

"Mavis, Bag, or

Now there be three Enderbies, Mavis, Bag, and Wood.

April 26.-The first free thought considered morally.-'Tis hard, perhaps, to call to mind the first coined money we possessed and used-the first free power our mind might exercise-the first young joy we gave, and wished to give the first denial practised, and its cause the first hope checked-the first exertion made, its moral motive, agents, and success-the first young whelming suffering, and now borne where felt, its influence, withering, wholesome, or serene-the first young wish, and its immense career-the first wide wonder, and its mazy train-the bitter first young grief, which seemed to stun the sense. But oh the first formed THOUGHT that springs untaught, unprompted, pure and fresh, within the untenanted breast! O for some moral chemistry to catch the subtle emanation, till we scan its tone!some delicate agent to arrest its flight, but for a twinkling, till we look again, and from its breathing speculate the future life's aspect; the terror, bent, and probable course of the till now void mind.

O for some giant-power to seize the first idea that awakes untrammelled and uncrutched by older, trained mind-some cunning power to clasp it, till we analyze, and from its virgin tincture dare to paint the life it heralds some eagle-wing, with strength to follow in its rapid course the infant thought's first flight? Thence, in pure augury, we well might draw our moral omens of the fate to come; might see new thoughts arise, expand, increase in power, and stretch; might note the chain electric which conveys these airy nothings on their way, and from their outline stamps the tone of mind.

April 27.—But spendthrifts that we be ! we find no moral entry of the thoughts of youth; their rich profusion tempting but to waste; their phoenix attributes, which die but to increase in stretch and circumstance-where are their records? Say, is there no blossom from the first green germ? No fruit, too, from that blossom? No towering tree to tell where, and what seed the young thought sowed? It needs no power eccentric to point out the fruits—we see them daily in our moral walk; perchance they clear the scholar's rugged way, or they may strew the conqueror's troubled path, or twine the poet's wreath, or cluster always in advance of hot ambition's grasp, or still the pulses of the martyred saint, or smoothe the trembling steps of humble age. These, and their like, are the unnoted fruits of infancy's first thought, like rainbows dying in the hue which lent first tincture to their ray and form.

April 28.-" There's a language that's mute."-A gentleman one Sunday morning was attracted to watch a young county girl, on the high road from the village to the church, by observing that she looked hither and thither, this way and that upon the road, as if she had lost her thimble. The bells were settling for prayers, and there was no one visible on the road, except the girl and

the gentleman who recognised in her the errand maid of a neighbouring farmer. "What are you looking for, my girl?" asked the gentleman, as the damsel continued to pore along the dusty road. She answered gravely," Sir, I am looking to see if my master be gone to church." Now her master had a wooden leg.

April 29.-Sam Cooper again.-There are no Sam Coopers now. The strain is lost, the race extinct; he was a plodding moneymaking man of the old school, who went on quietly adding his field to field, till the once home-close" grew a lumping farm. Still Sam was mute about his gainings; no one knew what he gave, or spent, or made, except as acquisition tells her tale. I remember once, that having bought some land which replaced a piece which he had previously rented, Sam was thus addressed by a neighbouring farmer, who had succeeded him in the occupation of this same field.

66

Why, Mr. Cooper, that's a brave piece of land down yonder-the twenty acres. Why, man, I've got full seven quarters of barley an acre off it this year, and that's more than ever you did, I should guess."

Sam made one of his own inimitable faces which spoke so plainly pity and contempt, and then replied, " I did not want my rent to be raised, neighbour—no doubt you do!"

Cooper was right; the next year an addition was laid on in consequence of this field's being so productive. Sam had got his seven quarters often, and sold it once too for 5l. the quarter, but this he prudently kept to himself till his weak neighbour made it public. The only time when I remember Sam indulging in a modest boast, (one, perhaps pardonable, if boasts be ever,) was when in his cups he owned that one wet harvest, when he had been extremely fortunate and "beforehand" in the setting of his wheat, which made it soon snapt up in the market, and at a bonny price, he sold one hundred quarters of his own grown wheat at five guineas a quarter, and carried the whole product home in guineas tied in a cotton handkerchief that perhaps cost some thirteen pence when new.

There are no Samuel Coopers now! April 30.-How difficult it is, immediately on your return home from a visit, to take up the thread of home interests, to splice in instantly with the odds and ends of home chit-chat and occupations; this is still more evident and difficult, if you have brought with you from your visit one of the last family with whom you sojourned, for then the recent subjects of discourse pass current between you two, and you alone, and thus the ball is kept up by you, till sometimes the members of the home circle feel aggrieved that you do not join their game of conversation, or play one they can join.

May 1.-Advantages de treize ans.There is a time in life, when, to speak figuratively, the mind's fortune ought to be made; it is when, in the prime and flush

of youth, we are admitted into the wealthy storehouses of improving conversation, without being required to bring our share to the public stock. We are neither expected to buy nor sell, but we may get great gain. At no cost to ourselves, we see fine modes and manners, varieties of every differing kind, the light, the lively, erudite, or grave, amusing, graphic, learned, or polite-all are spread out for sample, for inspection, or for choice; then it behoves us to be watchful and observing, for easier is it then to make a cool unbiassed choice, that when, in future years, we are the prominent actors, we are the purchasers, and we must then pay current coin, and also costly price; that price is character.

all are astonished that they never before saw its rights.

May 5-Physiognomy of Trees.-Trees have their characteristics plainly stamped as have the human kind; the most respectable are Thorns and Crabs, which have a very safe and solvent look about them, reminding us of well-tried bankers in their eve of ease; the twisted, knotted, gnarled, distorted branches, tell of sundry far-back trials of their strength with that tough tradesman Time.

The Ash is vulgar-bole and branch and bough, all bear about them signs of every day-a humdrum steward with his bunch of keys.

So several days the leg of mutton came obedient to the mistress's order. Perhaps the cook was weary of it; at last she ventured to inquire, "Should you not like some other thing to-day, ma'am?"

"Yes, let us have a leg of beef for change."

May 4.-Progress of Events.-Nothing that is really good ever retrogades in the public mind. There are some ideas and subjects which require almost centuries to digest or perfect, but they are still proceeding; and as I may need one hour to digest my dinner, and my neighbour may require two, so do national subjects require short or long time with different classes to advance them to perfection. The Catholic question was in agitation fifty years before it was carried, but it never died away, and scarcely slept. So with the Reform Bill, like a substance in the bed of a river, which is at first thrown therein, (perhaps by chance, still more likely apparently so,) it continues working its way to the surface, among the weeds or other obstructions in its way; these for a while prevail, but at length some fortunate impetus urges it to the surface, some bright gleam of light shows it clearly, and the thousand-eyed

The Oak is a fine commodore, and whether found near hill or vale, thrusts out his burly arms, and courts the public gaze with a frank hearty aspect, which would say, if leaves were always books, "Here stand I, happy in glorious strength which boy and man I still have joyed in."

The Poplar-(I am sorry for it, for the tree is graceful.)-I am sorry, but the poplar is a spinster, always upright and tall, always most primly neat; (who ever hath seen littered poplar leaves?) always the first seen in the grove of trees, as spinsters are the first seen in society, yet always chill in looks, and somewhat scant of dress, with garments which assist not any slight neglect of nature. No dainty trimming of the bare outline-no waving drapery aids the tall thin stem-no branch eccentric shoots from either side-the poplar is a spinster. Near, in a dry warm corner, stands a vigorous tree; short, somewhat given to spread with fresh bright foliage, thickly clothing it, this is the Sycamore, and none can name a tree more like a careful, cheerful, happy bachelor, always an old one-who can remember baby Sycamore?

*