Ramsay, who was not a little tired of all this precision, at last fixed his eyes upon a Wouvermann which hung near him, and only took them off when he guessed the time of bowing to be at hand.

The last having been duly marked and numbered, Mynheer Van Krause turned to Ramsay, and said, "I am most happy, mynheer, to find under my roof a young gentleman so much recommended by many valuable friends; moreover, as these letters give me to understand, so warm a friend to our joint sovereign, and so inimical to the Jacobite party. I am informed by these letters that you intend to remain at Amsterdam. If so, I trust that you will take up your quarters in this house.

To this proposal Ramsay, who fully expected it, gave a willing consent, saying, at the same time, that he had proposed going to an hotel; but Mynheer Van Krause insisted on sending for Ramsay's luggage. He had not far to send, as it was at the door.

"How did you come over?" inquired the host.

"In a king's cutter," replied Ramsay, "which waited for me at Portsmouth."

This intimation produced another very low bow from Mynheer Van Krause, as it warranted the importance of his guest; but he then rose, and apologising for his presence being necessary below, as they were unloading a cargo of considerable value, he ordered his old porter to show Mr. Ramsay into his rooms, and to take up his luggage, informing his guest that, it being now twelve o'clock, dinner would be on the table at half-past one, during which interval he begged Ramsay to amuse himself, by examining the pictures, books, &c., with which the room was well furnished. Then, resuming his tablets and pen, and taking the letters with him, Mynheer Van Krause made a very low bow, and left Ramsay to himself, little imagining that he had admitted an attainted traitor under his roof.

Ramsay could speak Dutch fluently, for he had been quartered two years at Middleburg, when he was serving in the army. As soon as the sailors had taken up his portmanteau, and he had dismissed them with a gratuity, the extent of which made the old porter open his eyes with astonishment, and gave him a favourable opinion of his master's new guest, he entered into conversation with the old man, who, like Eve upon another occasion, was tempted, nothing loth, for the old man loved to talk; and in a house so busy as the syndic's, there were few who had time to chatter, and those who had, preferred other conversation to what, it must be confessed, was rather prosy.

"Mien Gott, mynheer, you must not expect to have company here all day. My master has the town business and his own business to attend to; he can't well get

through it all: besides, now is a busy time, the schuyts are bringing up the cargo of a vessel from a far voyage, and Mynheer Krause always goes to the warehouse from breakfast till dinner, and then again from three or four o'clock till six. After that he will stay above, and then he sees company, and hears our young lady sing."

Young lady! has he a daughter then?" "He has a daughter, mynheer-only one-only one child-no son, it is a pity; and so much money too, they say. I don't know how many stivers and guilders she will have by-and-bye.”

"Is not Madame Krause still alive?"

"No, mynheer, she died when this maiden was born. She was a good lady, cured me once of the yellow jaundice."

Ramsay, like all young men, wondered what sort of a person this lady might be ; but he was too discreet to put the question. He was, however, pleased to hear that there was a young female in the house, as it would make the time pass away more agreeably; not that he expected much. Judging from the father, he made up his mind, as he took his clothes out of his valise, that she was very short, very prim, and had a hooked nose.

The old man now left the room to allow Ramsay to dress, and telling him that if he wanted anything, he had only to call for Koops, which was his name, but going out, he returned to say, that Ramsay must call rather loud, as he was a little hard of hearing.

I am

"Well" thought Ramsay, as he was busy with his toilet, "here I am safe lodged at last, and everything appears as if it would prosper. There is something in my position which my mind revolts at, but stratagem is necessary in war. in the enemy's camp to save my own life, and to serve the just cause. It is no more than what they attempt to do with us. It is my duty to my lawful sovereign, but still-I do not like it. Then the more merit in performing a duty so foreign to my inclinations."

Such were the thoughts of Ramsay, who, like other manly and daring dispositions, was dissatisfied with playing the part of a deceiver, although he had been selected for the service, and his selection had been approved of at the court of St. Germains.

Open warfare would have suited him better; but he would not repine at what he considered he was bound in fealty to perform, if required, although he instinctively shrunk from it. His toilet was complete, and Ramsay descended into the receptionroom: he had been longer than usual, but probably that was because he wished to commune with himself, or it might be, because he had been informed that there was a young lady in the house.

The room was empty when Ramsay entered it, and he took the advice of his

so circumspect," replied Krause; "per- she was Nature herself, and at the same haps it would be better to defer our con- time in her person one of Nature's masterversation till after supper, but in the mean- pieces. time, could you not just give me a little inkling of what is going on?"

Ramsay had difficulty in stifling a smile at this specimen of Mynheer Krause's eagerness for intelligence. He very gravely walked up to him, looked all around the room as if he was afraid that the walls would hear him, and then whispered for a few seconds into the ear of his host. "Indeed!" exclaimed Krause, looking up into Ramsay's face.

Ramsay nodded his head authoritatively.

As we observed, when they retired to the saloon, Mynheer Krause very shortly quitted them, to attend to his affairs below, desiring his daughter to exert herself for the amusement of his guest; the contrary, however, was the case, for Ramsay exerted himself to amuse her, and very soon was successful, for he could talk of courts and kings, of courtiers and of people, and of a thousand things, all interesting to a young girl who had lived secluded; and as his full-toned voice, in measured and low pitch, fell upon Wilhelmina's ear, she never perhaps was so much interested. She seldom ventured a remark, except it was to request him to proceed, and the eloquent language with which Ramsay clothed his ideas, added a charm to the novelty of his conversation. In the course of two hours Ramsay had already acquired a moral influence over Wilhelmina, who looked up to him with respect, and another feeling, which we can only define by saying that it was certainly anything but ill-will.

"Gott in himmel!" exclaimed the syndic; but here the bell for dinner rang a loud peal. "Dinner is on the table, mynheer," continued the syndic, “allow me to show you the way. We will talk this over to-night. Gott in himmel! Is it possible?" Mynheer Krause led the way to another saloon, where Ramsay found not only the table prepared, but, as he had anticipated, the daughter of his host, to whom he was introduced." Wilhelmina," said Mynheer Krause, "our young friend will stay with us, I trust, some time, and you must do all you can to make him comfortable. You know, my dear, that business must be attended to. With me, time is money, so much so, that I can scarcely do justice to the affairs of the state devolving upon me in virtue of my office. You must there-ing over. fore join with me, and do your best to amuse our guest."

To this speech Wilhelmina made no reply, but by a gracious inclination of her head towards Ramsay, which was returned with all humility. The dinner was excellent, and Ramsay amused himself very well indeed until it was over. Mynheer Krause then led the way to the saloon, called for coffee, and, as soon as he had finished it, made an apology to his guest, and left him alone with his beautiful daugh

ter.

Wilhelmina Krause was a young person of a strong mind irregularly cultivated: she had never known the advantage of a mother's care, and was indeed self-educated. She had a strong tinge of romance in her character, and, left so much alone, she loved to indulge in it.

The time passed so rapidly, that the two young people could hardly believe it possible that it was past six o'clock, when they were interrupted by the appearance of Mynheer Krause, who came from his counting-house, the labours of the day be

In the summer time it was his custom to take his daughter out in the carriage at this hour, but the weather was too cold, and, moreover, it was nearly dark. A conversation ensued on general topics, which lasted till supper time; after this repast was over Wilhelmina retired, leaving Ramsay and the syndic alone.

It was then that Ramsay made known to his host the contents of the despatches, much to Mynheer Krause's surprise and delight, who felt assured that his guest must be strong in the confidence of the English government, to be able to communicate such intelligence. Ramsay, who was aware that the syndic would sooner or later know what had been written, of course was faithful in his detail: not so, however, when they canvassed the attempts of the Jacobite party; then Mr. Krause was completely mystified. It was not till a late hour that they retired to bed. The next morning, the syndic, big with his intelligence, called upon his friends in person, and much to their surprise told them the contents of the despatches which had been received-and, much to his de

In other points she was clever, well read, and accomplished, graceful in her manners, open in her disposition to a fault, for, like her father, she could not keep a secret, not even the secrets of her own heart; for whatever she thought she gave utterance to, which is not exactly the cus-light, discovered that he had been cortom in this world, and often attended with unpleasant.consequences.

rectly informed. He also communicated what Ramsay had told him relative to the The seclusion in which she had been movements of the Court of St. Germains, kept added to the natural timidity of her and this unintentionally false intelligence disposition-but when once intimate, it was forwarded to England as from good also added to her confiding character. It authority. It hardly need be observed, was impossible to see without admiring that in a very short time Ramsay had her, to know her without loving her; for gained the entire confidence of his host,

and we may add also, of his host's daughter; but we must leave him for the present to follow up his plans, whatever they may be, and return to the personages more immédiately connected with this narrative.

(To be continued.)

TO A LADY,

FAMILY INTERFERENCE.

A TALE FOR YOUNG MARRIED PEOPLE.

BY MRS. ABDY.

WHAT is the prevailing cause of the frequent, too frequent disagreements, existing among the greater number of married couples? Some will say, want of affection, some, want of temper, some, want of congeniality, and some, want of money. I cannot agree in any of these reasons. I do not approve of marriages without af fection, but I do not see why they should necessarily be productive of disputes; on the contrary, where no enthusiastic ideas

WITH A COPY OF THE LAST DAYS OF POM- of happiness have been raised in the first

PEII."

BY E. L. BULWER, ESQ., M. P.

SWEET lady, when this wild nor worthy page,

Binds thy bright heart to dreams and
dooms of yore,

What links the fleeting with the former age,
And half forbids the very words, "No

more?"

instance, disappointments are assuredly much less likely to ensue than if the reverse had been the case; indifference and apathy dull and deaden the feelings, but do not render them tenacious and ir

ritable.

In respect to the other alleged causes of unhappiness, I do not regard them in a very formidable light: one objectionable quality is often neutralized by the existence of another of a counteracting nature; for instance, married people may be far from congenial in their tastes, yet good temper (if possessed by both of them) will prevent them from reproaching and tauntHe-if the fable while, in truth, the hour-ing each other with their want of sympaLives in each shape and colours every

Not mine, not mine the charm; it is the power

Wrung from the God whose priest my youth has been,

scene;

Making a world from Silence; as his wings

Move the hush'd face of Time's deep wave above;

His breath the life, his smile the light, of things,

Hark! thy heart whispers-"Is his name,

not Love?"

Yes, with his lore of legends, his the spell That makes us kindred with the Past; that fills

With holier life Egeria's grassy cell,

And haunts with Helen, Phrygia's golden rills.

thetic feelings; or they may be ill-temper ed, and if perfectly alike in all their habits and pursuits, their temper will find vent on other objects, and will not exhaust itself where there is no opposition of conduct or manner to provoke it. Want of money is indeed a misfortune, but ought never to be considered as a fault, unless it has been occasioned by imprudence or mismanagement; if the husband and father labour earnestly in his business or profession for the good of his family, and if the wife and mother carefully economise his gains, although they may, and most probably will, rail at the world in general, they can have no possible pre

'Tis Juliet hallows grey Verona's walls-text for railing at each other in particular. And Laura's name green Arqua's odorous vale,

And the deep gloom o'er dark Ferrara's halls,

Breathes the bright Madman's immemorial tale.

What, then, is the great cause of matrimonial bickering? I answer, there is no great cause, but an abundance of little ones, atomes which float in the conjugal atmosphere, but which would never assume any definite shape, were they not gathered together, and made to wear a formidable appearance by the officious hand of a third person; the cause of the disputes of nine married couples out of ten, I believe to arise from the ill-judged interference of relations. As soon as a married pair have begun to feel tolerably settled, the relations of both parties surround them with counsels, not only how to manage their income and household, but how to manage each other; and as, of course, one person can never pretend to manage another without a knowledge of his or her weak side, and

vunerable points, all such particulars are eagerly and accurately shown forth to the individuals by their indefatigable friends. My own sex, who, I am sorry to say, are often foremost in works of mischief as well as in works of good, usually play a prominent part on such occasions; the female relatives of the bride urge on her the expediency of" getting her own way ¦ at first," and of stipulating for a certain quantity of amusements and indulgences which are absolutely necessary to prevent her from sinking into a mope and domestic drudge; the bridegroom might be vanquished under this artillery, but he, on his side, has most likely female connexions who will not see him imposed upon, and who sketch to him in glowing colours, all the probable evils that will be brought on him by a tame acquiescence in his wife's expenses and frivolities; and thus the young people, who were united by motives of mutual preference, and who ought to have every pursuit and feeling in common, are taught to consider each other as enemies, having their separate interests to consult and arrange, and their separate friends to advise their proceedings, and to see fair play between them. How, the reader will ask, is this to be avoided? Are the relations of young people to desert them when they marry? I answer, by no means; but let them avoid all interference with their conduct towards each other; and if they persist in offering such mischievous counsel, let the young people have sense and spirit enough to turn a deaf ear to it, in which case they will soon grow tired of urging it.

other something of the kind, or even blind allowance, which they so readily afford to the faults of their offspring; and would repel, with a degree of the same jealous tenacity, all notice of such faults on the part of another. If it were permitted me to assume the character of a guardian spirit, I should especially like to take young married couples under my charge, to cause the mischievous whisper and insinuation to fall harmless on the ear of each of them, to paint to them in the brightest tints the good qualities of their partners, and to inspire them with a distrust of all who would wish to direct their eyes to the dark side of the picture. I cannot be a guardian spirit, but perhaps I can write a story, and I hope to be able to combine amusement and instruction in the following little tale, since

"Truth, sometimes, like castern dames,
Can tell her thoughts by flowers."

The wedding-day of Caroline Dornton and Edmund Clifford was fixed, and the match was one calculated to give universal satisfaction. It was a marriage of romance; the parties were both remarkably handsome, accomplished, and good tempered, and appeared congenial in habits and tastes. It was also a marriage of prudence; the young couple would begin life with a house in Torrington Square, five servants, and a carriage; and as the sphere in which they moved was that of the middle classes, their establishment was considered very creditable by their acquaintance. One or two close calculaIn fact, in the other relations of life, in- tors certainly expressed their opinion that terference is seldom ventured, and if at- each of the parties might have done bettempted, is usually resented. Take, for ter, and hinted at a deformed, ill-temperinstance, the case of parents and children; ed heiress, who had cast tender glances let any one of us go to the mother of a at the gentlemen, and an old, yellow nabob, family, and insinuate to her in the gentlest just arrived from India with lacs of rupees terms possible, that she administers too and a liver complaint, who had expressed large an allowance of plum-cake, and too a warm admiration for the lady; but even small a proportion of spelling lessons to these persons only hinted a faint disapher little son Charley, and that she does proval, and owned that, considering the wrong in suffering her daughter Fanny to income of the young people was indepenmake saucy replies to her elders, attend dent of any profession, and entirely dejuvenile fancy balls, caricature her go- rived from money in the funds, Harriet verness, and neglect her French grammar Martineau herself might be easy respectand geography for the last new novel, and ing their capability of providing the newhat will be the success of our remarks? cessaries of life for younger children, and The lady will either in a very grave tone might acknowledge them sufficiently rich reply, "I am sorry you think so," imme- to please themselves. Probably my readiately turn the conversation to other sub- ders will wonder why I should designate jects, and look at us for a month after- a union contracted under such commonwards as if she detested the sight of us; place circumstances as a "marriage of or she will unceremoniously contradict us, romance," and will be inclined to say with and say that we are quite mistaken, for Hood, in his Comic Annual, "there's no that she has always been considered a romance in that!" There was, however, rather over-strict mother, and that her the deepest and truest romance attendant childen are patterns of industry and steadi- on the attachment of Caroline and Clifford ness. Now I would humbly breathe a-the romance of the heart; each possessword for the rights of men and women, as ed a disposition so thoroughly warm and well as for the rights of children, and express a wish that the father and mother of Charley and Fanny would extend to each

enthusiastic, that its luxuriance would have flourished in any soil, and under any associations, however homely and matter