THE STORY OF A LEGACY. (Continued from p. 309) To return to the legacy: there remained to Frederick but one hope of recovering it, independent of the procrastination of the law, and that was by appealing to the pity of his Aunt Barking, of Dalling. This resolution involved a task almost analagous to the attempt to draw water from a flinty rock; but he had justice, eloquence, and distress on his side: she was his mother's own sister (though proverbially her opposite in mind, temper, and person): he was parentless, friendless, and moneyless; and if these failed to move her, his case would be hopeless. Her house stood in a central opening of the hamlet of Dalling, and presented many advantages for being rendered a desirable residence; but the despicable penury of Mrs. Barking had rendered these of no avail; her only object being to amass and keep the sordid gains wrung from a profitable farm, to the total perversion of every means of respectability. The walls of her dwelling, exteriorly, were disfigured by trained currant-trees, and, here and there, by implements of the farm-yard being placed against them. The garden in front was rendered unsightly by being crowded with rows of potatoes, patches of turnips, and beds of onions, Attached to the once elegant palisading was the cot of a chained cur, whose continual barking was in unison with the repulsive exterior of the house. Before it, at the bottom of the garden, ran, or rather trickled, a weedy spring, infested by ducks and other feathe ed gentry, peculiar to the farm-yard. Frederick's knock was answered by a timid and awkward domestic, who, after much preliminary inquiry, announced him to Mrs. Barking. The interior of her sitting-room bore some approximation to a kitchen. The heads of two corresponding cupboards, the mantel-shelf, and the side-board, were shamed by crockery of the meanest pattern. In one corner stood a clock, whose opaque countenance and startling tickings, would have better consorted with the hall of some old castle. The library displayed a few trashy volumes of the time of Tonson, intermingled with homilies and tracts in defence of the church, of which Mrs. Barking was a staunch upholder. On the top of the library, amidst a heterogeneous collection of utensils and orna ments, stood a large model of a ship, and on each side of it a couple of enormous brass candlesticks. Over the entrance into an inner apartment were displayed on the wall a row of oldfashioned tart-tins. By way of more tasteful decoration, a few paltry prints were hung up in massy old frames; two of them were, "The Return of the Prodigal Son," and "The Shipwreck of St. Paul;" the prodigal being represented in top-boots and buckskin breeches, and the apostle in the garb of a Jacktar. With these were intermingled a few wretched paintings of the local scenery,-the barbouillage of unknown provincial artists. The rest of the furniture of Mrs. Barking's sitting-room may be imagined from the description already given. Amidst this eccentric melange of pride, penury, and ignorance, was the notable Mrs. Barking herself, quite in character, being bustlingly engaged in expressing from the dregs of honey the liquor called mead. A graphic description of her person and appearance, though at the hazard of being charged with caricature, is necessary to the context. Subject to a scorbutic affection of the blood, her frowning countenance was furred over with scaly eruptions of that character; her chin was enveloped in an overlay of lace, which reached nearly to her haughty lip, and was intended to hide the florid blotches which appeared on that portion of her features: her arms also were encircled in a pair of faded black silk gloves, with the fingers cut off, which rendered conspicuous the display of some enormous family rings, corresponding in quaintness with her flowered muslin gown, whose faded train had swept her carpets for upwards of a quarter of a century. Her physiognomy evinced a mixture of arrogance and ignorance; and her conversation and address, though she had had the advantages of a respectable education, were vulgar in the extreme: in short, her uncompromising exterior was in strict accordance with her avaricious and degraded mind. Eyeing her nephew with a most contemptuous look, she slightly inclined her head, which was all the salutation she condescended to vouchsafe him. After standing for a considerable time without being invited to a seat, Frederick drew to him a chair and sat down. A silence of some length ensued, which was first broken by his insolent aunt demanding, in a most insulting tone, the business which had brought him there. The fervent requested to depart, resolved to abide the solves of calm demeanour made by Henderson took flight in a moment; and, choking with rage, which at last broke forth in alleviating exclamation, he cried, "Am I mistaken for a reprieved felon, that I am thus treated, when, with honourable fame, and with clean hands, I am come to supplicate for that which I ought to demand, nay compel?" "Oh! your legacy, sir," said she, deridingly, "How much of it will serve you, poverty-bird? What a pity that so fine and spirited a young gentleman should have no estate! Compel, indeed, vagabond! why you have not even what will fee a clerk to hand up an appeal to the Lord Chancellor! No get the law on your side if you can -I'll not pay you a shilling!" "Woman!" replied Frederick,"shame and disgrace to that sex whose prerogative it is to rail! I detest and despise thee; I forswear all kindred with thee, and, sooner than own it, I would claim relationship with the vilest convict at the gallows! My mother faltered to me with her dying breath, that to base the fabric of my hopes on the winds of Heaven,-to walk the pathless waves,-were a more tangible task than to move thy pity. Hideous blot on creation! thou hast now added insult to oppression, and falsehood to robbery. Heaven is my witness, I relieve, often with all but my last mite, the pestilent and profligate mendicant, whose infirmities I commiserate as of the brotherhood of humanity: but wert thou, atrocious and abandoned woman, expiring for food in a loathsome ditch, and wert to lick my feet in the vehemency of thy prayer for a morsel of bread, I could steel my heart to thy request, and calmly see thee expire!" This was too much for the enraged Mrs. Barking; and, stamping her foot furiously on the floor, for her passion precluded immediate utterance, a trembling girl opened the door, who, in a timid tone, ventured to inquire what were her commands. Taking a huge bunch of keys from her side, she unlocked an escrutoire, and from a wellfilled leather bag, abstracted a shilling, which she delivered to the crouching menial before her, enjoining, in a voice that almost emulated that of a lion, "Take that to Old Smithson, the constable, and tell him to come instantly, and throw this impertinent beggar headlong to the door!" Frederick, as he had not been re issue; and, after the lapse of a few minutes, the door again opened, and the redoubtable Smithson, tottering with age and grasping a long staff, the painted arms on which were sadly defaced, made his appearance, and seizing Frederick by the collar, commanded him to rise, threatening, in case of refusal, to call in assistance, and forcibly hurl him into the street. "Old man,” said Frederick, addressing him, "I reverence thy age, but I pity thy imbecility. Wouldst thou, for one venal shilling, profane the hallowed name of justice by dashing me on the pavement, thy strength permitting? Unloose thy grasp; if thou art in want of money, adopt a more honest way to obtain it. There-take the lingering pittance in my solitary purse, and preserve it as a memento that when thou wouldst have rendered a base and inhuman service, he who reproved thee gave it as some evidence of an inherent desire to return good for evil.” Old Smithson took up the piece of silver which Frederick had shaken from his purse, and coolly placing it in his pocket, which he cautiously buttoned, he prepared to grin his acknowledgment; but his courtesy came too late; Frederick was gone, and looking out at the door, he watched him proceeding at an indignant pace over the neighbouring fields, and in a few minutes he was out of sight. His The searing Autumn had far advanced, when Henderson resolved to dismiss his uncle's attorney from all further participation in the affair. He had decided on bidding a final adieu to his native valley. His situation was every day growing more irksome; depending on the charitable services of his poorer friends; hated by the Squire; and dreaded by his opulent uncle. dreams of hope and peace portrayed another clime; but, alas! he little deemed how soon his journey would be to "that undiscovered country," where wrongs are righted. The villain Rockton thirsted for his blood; for the rumour had reached him that Henderson, certain of his identity, had pointed to him as the murderer of the child found in his own meadow. This determined him in his deadly purpose; and he now waited for that opportunity, which was but too easily afforded him, of silencing Frederick for ever. It was on a market-day, the last of his existence, that young Henderson betook himself to the neighbouring town of Ripon, in order to disannul the mock proceedings respecting his legacy. The joyous chime of the bells of St. Wilfred beguiled in some measure the autumn gloom which pervaded the yellow woods of Sharow and Studley; and the sun at intervals palely illumined the venerable towers of the collegiate church, the tall market-cross, and the hill-seated copses environing the town. He several times during the day encountered both his uncle and the Squire, as their weekly transactions required the attendance of one at the market, and the other at the banks. George Yeateley seemed to be perfectly aware of his nephew's intention as to discharging the attorney; and his suspicions received confirmation, when, on calling at his office after the despatch of market business, he learnt that Henderson had been there, and had entered his decided protest against any advance in the business. On hearing this, Yeateley was like an unchained lion; he swore bitterly at the prospect of having in reality a Chancery bill filed against him, of which he knew well he must eventually pay the costs; and so far did he allow to his passion the mastery, that he vowed, publicly, to shoot his nephew at their first meeting; a threat, which, it is but justice to observe, was the ebullition of the moment. Returning to the inn, he met with Squire Rockton, to whom he related his defeat. Liquor in abundance was ordered, to give energy to the recital; and glass succeeded glass, until they found themselves, before the evening, in a state of halfinebriation. Henderson, desirous of taking a parting view of the delightful neighbourhood which he had so often perambulated, had walked to Studley Park, where, amidst the sylvan scenery, he wore away the afternoon. The dazzling concentration of temples, walks, statues, and fountains, had almost erased from his memory the chilling predominancy of Autumn. He strolled through gardens of evergreens, laurels, and winter roses; he heard the music of shooting fountains falling into their marble basins; he beheld the sylvan forestry glassed in the meandering waters of the Skell; and, pursuing the continuous walk, the hoary and solemn pile of monastic Fountains couched in its rockencircled dell, met his melancholy eye. The subliming influence of that gorgeous ruin took possession of his soul; and he stood entranced with rapture amid severing arches, tottering pil lars, disjointed buttresses, and the carved and foliaged remains of the chisel's achievements. He viewed its crumbling tower, beautified by peerless tracery; its still roofed and nearly perfect cloisters, gloomily lighted by corbel-windows; its sepulchral chapterhouse, overgrown with alders; and its "column-strewn" nave, bared to the changeful heavens. The voiceless river flowed beneath the arches of the cloisters, over its pavement of mosaic bricks, of which the abbey had been despoiled, the seasonable breeze passed over the sighing woods,-the withered ivy rattled on the monkish walls,-and Frederick turned from the ruin with that philosophic elevation of feeling which its Gothic decay is so well adapted to inspire. The shades of an early evening had now set in; the glimpses of the remote scenery were becoming more and more obscure; and as Henderson retraced his way through Ripon, the twilight had merged into darkness. By the time he had reached the verge of Hutton Moor, however, the firmament had become studded with a few stars, which faintly showed the expanded waters of the Ure, pursuing their way through the thicket solitudes of the adjacent subsiding country. Crossing the dreary enclosures of Hutton Moor, being three miles on his journey, Frederick stopped to partake of a little refreshment at the Royal Oak, an inn situate on the Roman road leading to Aldborough, the Isurium of the Romans. The nocturnal topers returning from market, true to the description given in "Tam o' Shanter,' were here assembled to wind up the night. Frederick, delighted with the original characters which formed the company, prolonged his stay until a late hour; and it was not before the clock had struck eleven, that he took his de parture. Notices of New Books. The Comic Offering, or Ladies' Melange of Literary Mirth for 1831. Edited by Louisa Henrietta Sheridon. Smith and Elder. We had long thought that he of the Whims and Oddities held "sole Sovereign sway and masterdom" over the Land of Jocularity; but we find that we were deceived, and that a pretty good portion of his empire has been wrested from him (against his consent, no doubt,) by a very designing lady, who cuts a conspicuous figure: her prime minister, we are told, is a man gifted with a sixth sense,-a sort of secord-sighted being, who can Sey-mour than other folks; he draws well, and is much relished by the people of the new kingdom. In fact, it is said, that the old monarch, by taking the field so late, is fast losing ground, and that many of his friends, like leaves in Autumn, are falling off, and flocking to her Standard, which is set up in Cornhill, where she dispenses her good things to all comers with an unsparing hand they are doled out in well made pints (points) according to the imp-eraEll (imperial) Measure, the flavour of which is anything but "flat, stale and unprofitable." That those who have share of her bounty, we most willing only heard of her "Rare Doings" may ly divide our portion. SISTER ARTS, & BROTHER ARTISTS. While Smith, who writes biography Could never draw the slightest sketch, How strange are these deficiencies Because it seems the two pursuits If we consider both their works, A FRENCH GENTLEMAN'S LETTER TO AN ENGLISH FRIEND IN LONDON. AH MY DEER FREND, I CAN not feel the plaisir I expresse to come to your country charming, for you see. I shall have the happiness to you embrace in some days from here: but it is necessary that I myself may rest before to set out. We are arrive at Southampton before yesterday at one hour of the afternoon, and we are debarked very nice. I I am myself amused yesterday to look by the window which gives in the street. I see a crowd enormous of persons. ask at the servant "What for all that?" "It's a man that is beside himself, sir." "Oh yes!" I say, but I not understand, and I take my dictionary: I find Beside, a cote de,' and Himself,' I know is lui-meme.' That make togethera cote de lui-meme! Oh, not understand at all. I ask pretty girl of the house "What for crowd?" She say, cups, sir!" "Only man who is in his "Oh yes!" I say, but I not understand better: search in the dictionary again,' A man in his cups, Un homme dans ses tasses" Well, I can not understand. Call pretty girl again-" My dear Miss, is it porcelain merchant fall among his cups? She go away in clatters of laugh, very unpolite, and I hear her say at the boy "John, that Frenchman seem a great spoon." Boy replies, "He is next to a madman!" Is it possible that the pretty person call me a cuilliere? I not understand, -so I look at the dictionary, and find spoon, cuilliere,' very right. How it is foolish for call one person spoon! I who is next to me. send for the master of the hotel, and desire I may be put far from the madman The man say there was no madman at all. Then I ring the bell, and the boy come; (who is very old and stupid, he tell me he has 59 years.) I ask to him if he tell pretty person there was madman in the next room to me? He say, "Oh no, sir, I never said nothing of the kind." I say, "You speak bad English with two negatives; but I hear you say it when pretty person call me spoon." Then he have shame, and his face redded all over, and he beg my pardon, and not mean that what he say. I never believe you when at Paris, you tell me that the Englishwomen get on much before our women: but now I agree quite with you, I know you laughing at your country women for take such long steps! My faith! I never saw such a mode to walk; they take steps long like the man! Very pretty women! but not equal to ours! White skins, and the tint fresh, but they have no mouths nor no eyes. Our women have lips like rose-buttons, and eyes of lightning: the English have mouth You tell me often at Paris that we have no music in France. My dear friend, how you are deceived yourself! Our music is the finest in the world, and the German come after: you other English have no music, and if you had sume, you have no language to sing with. It is necessary that you may avow your language is not useful for the purpose ordinary of the world. Your window of shop are all filled at French name des gros de Naples,' 'des gros des Indes,'' des gros d'ete,' &c. If English lady go for demand, Shew me, if you please sir, some fats of Naples,' some fats of India,' and some 'fats of summer,' the linendraper not understand at all. Then the colours different at the silks. People say 'pucc evanouie," oeil de l'empereur, flammes d'enfer,' 'feu de l'opera,' but you never hear lady say, I go for have gown made of fainting fleas,' or emperors' eyes,' or 'opera fires,' or of the flames' of a place which you tell me once, for say never to ears polite! You also like very much our musique in England: the street-organs tell you best the taste of the people, and I hear them play always' Le petit tumbour,' 'Oh gardez-vous, begerette,'' Dormez, mes cheres amours,' and twenty little French airs of which we are fatigued, there is a long time. 16 I go this morning for make visit to the house of a very nice family. When I am there some time, I demand of the young ladies, what for they not go out? One reply," Thank you, sir, we are always oblige for stay at home, because papa enjoy such very bad health.” I say, "Oh yes! How do you do your papa this morning, misses?" "He is much worse, I am oblige to you, sir." I bid them good bye, and think in myself how the English are odd to enjoy bad health, and the young ladies much obliged to me because their papa In my road to come home, I see a board on a gate, and I stopped myself for read him. He was for say, any person beating carpets, playing cricket, and such like diversions there, should be persecuted. My faith! you other English are so droll to find any diversion in beating carpets! Yet it is quite as amusing as to play the cricket, to beat one little ball with big stick, then un about like madmen, then throw away big stick, and get great knock upon your face or legs. And then at cards again! What stupid game whist. Play for amuse people, but may not laugh any! Ah! how the English are droll! I have nothing of more for say to you, at present, but I am so soon seeing you, when I do assure you of the eternal regard and everlasting affection Of your much attached frend, I ONCE was a gard'ner so gay, We've happily Twins ev'ry year. When fatigued with the sun and the air, * My son and heir gives me no peace; I've Climbers all over my chair, Whose Deer-tongues from moving near cease So tortured am I by each child, That spleenwort now gives me much trouble; My brain I'm afraid will grow wild, If I can't raise my Salary double! When I married the fair Mary-Gold, If she had Ane-monie I asked ? (That Yellow-E'erlasting, we're told, Will Honesty even outlast) Shepherd's-Purse from her father, the farmer, She brought,and a fine Golden-chain: Yet (tho' I don't say it to harm her), Lady's-eardrops are all that remain! London-Pride she was always esteemed, All beauties in her were assembled; But though Bella Donna she seemed, 'Tis Rag-wort she's lately resembled. 'Twas first at a Hop that I saw her, In vain a young Cocks-comb was pleading, Sweet Ice-plant! his warmth could not thaw her: Ah! thought I, in my heart Love-lies-bleeding! Last Sunday she brought me a flower, |