able period, she should act as housekeeper at his mansion in his absence, and take her little niece with her; while he would place George, of whose abilities he had heard a favourable report, under his steward, promising him encouragement commensurate with his merits. It is scarcely necessary to say that this proposal was joyfully embraced, and it gives me pleasure to be enabled to add, that his lordship, when he returned to England, was so well satisfied with the conduct of all the objects of his benevolence, that he continued to take care of their fortunes, and so effectually that, at the present moment, Hannah has been some years married to a substantial farmer on the nobleman's estate; George has succeeded to the office of steward, while his sister is high in the favour and confidence of his lordship's daughter as lady's-maid. I am conscious that the sole recommendation of these short and simple annals of the poor' is their moral, which, as it must be obvious to all, will, I trust, be thrown away upon none. Primarily, it illustrates the solemn, yet consolitary truth, that a well grounded confidence in the mercy and providence of God has power to make the death scene of the righteous, with all its anticipated bereavements, calm and happy. It will teach, also, that if, among the catalogue of Christian virtues, there be one which hath the promise of this life,' it is charity. An extended observation, though, alas! a limited personal experience, has convinced me that a kind action, however it may occasionally be met by ingratitude, is never without its reward. Further, let it in culcate the utter worthlessness of the maxim, that charity begins at home, the plea (for reason it is none) of the selfish and the cold hearted, which, however it may avail them before men, will be no justification before Him who hath commanded us to love our neighbour as ourselves. 6 A VISION. BY MISS ANNA MARIA PORTER. The night-mare came to my silent bed, Oh think of the horrible shape it wore! Nor a dragon with scales and tails a score; Nor a mocking fiend with a maddening laugh; That came to disturb my rest: But my sister Poll with a grey goose quill, With the REMEMBRANCE we close our notices of those Annuals intended for " children of a larger growth," and proceed to scan the merits of some of those designed for the 'tender juvenile:' first and foremost stands the New Year's Gift, Edited by Mrs. A. Watts. How delighted should we have been, in our early days, had any kind friend presented us with such an attractive book as this! Truly the young masters and misses of the present day will not lack amusement, for even dunces may experience pleasure in gazing on its embellishments. The NEW YEAR'S GIFT contains many articles that reflect great credit upon the writers, as well as on the taste and discrimination of the editor. Here follows a specimen of prose, which, we think is well entitled to praise. THE COCK, THE FOX, AND THE FARM-YARD DOG. me. "Certainly, neighbour Scout," answered the Cock, "you may depend upon But stop, good Scout, why could not you have asked me to perform this act of neighbouring kindness when I met you on the common to-day behind our master's sheep?" "Indeed," replied Fox," it was somewhat remiss in me; but I was then counting the heads of the flock, and if I had stopped to speak with you, it might have put me out." "Well, well," said the Cock, "then at midnight I will call you up. So now good night, neighbour, good night; for my wives and children must not be disturbed at this late hour by further conversation." The Fox, chuckling over his success, then pretended to retire, but sculked in the immediate neighbourhood. "If my senses did not deceive me," ruminated the Cock, "that was not honest Scout, the farm-yard dog, but some ruffian fox, who thinks to surprise me and mine; but I fancy I have lived as long in the world as he, and am almost as cunning. I shall not call him up!" And thus resolving, he settled himself once more on his perch, and resumed his doze. Two hours elapsed, and it was now a little past midnight, when the feathered monarch was again roused by the same snuffling and scratching noises at the barn-door. "Who comes now?" demanded the Cock in a tone of anger. "It is I,-Scout," replied Reynard. "Your business now, good fellow?" "Those who have it in their power to confer favours have short memories, for you forgot to call me at midnight," answered the Fox. "How know you that?" asked the Cock, sharply. "I was awake, and listened," replied he of the brush. "Ho so! were you!" rejoined the Cock," then it is plain you did not require me to wake you." Reynard was here somewhat wanting in his accustomed shrewdness; but recovering his coolness of mind immediately, he remarked, "I was curious to see how much one might depend upon the good offices of a neighbour in the hour of need." "But," rejoined the Cock as quickly. "I was not so sure as I wished to be, that you were the honest fellow you represented yourself. If you are indeed Scout, my master's dog, let me hear you bark, for I should know his voice from a thousand." This request put Reynard into a complete quandary, for bark he could not, not being of the barking kind of foxes; but, however, that he might not quite betray himself by refusing to comply with so simple a demand, he commenced a sort of imitative growl, and then apologised for his failure by pretending to have a cold, and a wish to avoid waking the family of the Cock. "It is very well," said the Cock sarcastically, "I am convinced you are what you were born," plainly insinuating that he was more fox than dog. "It is true," continued Chanticleer, "that I did not announce the midnight hour: I left it to my son, who-" "Hah! have you a son?" interrupted Reynard, with great eagerness. He was answered in the affirmative. "And is he as noble in carriage, as splendid in plumage, and as renowned for courage and wisdom as his princely father ?" inquired the Fox. The Cock could not forbear being pleased by this well-flavoured flattery, though he despised the creature who bestowed it; and replied in rather a pompous manner, "My son is worthy of his ancestors." "And does he fulfil the quaint proverb, 'as the old Cock crows so crows the young one?" inquired Reynard. "To the letter," answered the flattered father. "What! and is his voice as lofty as thine, as capable of waking the entire world, and as musical?" "Not quite so musical," replied the Cock, swelling with pride, "nor so lofty, and capable of waking the whole world from the indolence of slumber; but there is not, nevertheless, a bird from hence to Barbary, who can boast of nobler powers." "I feel that I am becoming interested in this promising representative of so noble a lineage. May I not behold this prodigy of princely birds?" requested Reynard. แ "Not now, neighbour Scout, not now," answered the Cock, "he is at roost under his noble mother's wing, some other time you shall pay your homage." "Well, well," consented Reynard, some other time be it then." During this conversation, the Fox had plied his fore-paws diligently but silently, and was fast working a hole under the barn-door, large enough to give him entrance, which the wary king of fowls had not failed to observe, and was prepared, in case of necessity, to rouse up and drive his feathered family, on the instant, to a station impossible for Reynard to reach, admirable climber as he was. But there was a faithful friend and protector at hand to prevent the worst-no other than Scout himself, who had overheard the entire dialogue; had witnessed with honest indignation the attempt of the impostor to assume his name and nature; had laughed contemptuously at his ridiculous endeavours to imitate his own fullmouthed bark; had smiled in pity at the vanity of his old friend the Cock, who could consent to relish flattery even from a foe, and who was then waiting to defeat the enterprise of the enemy of the feathered race, and punish his temerity. This honest guardian, with scarcely less craft and skill then Reynard himself would have displayed in circumventing his prey, had approached the foe with such stealthy steps, and had taken up such a position of attack as made escape impossible, when, finding the Fox entirely in his power, he broke suddenly forth in this indignant strain of invective. "Thou arch impostor, liar, robber, and midnight murderer! now art thou fairly caught in the snare intended for another!" This rough salutation caused the Fox to start aghast; and he was preparing to steal away, but found escape impossible.His wit, however, never failing him at a pinch, he began to protest in a tone of affected levity, that having tasted too liberally of some fine ripe grapes in the neighbourhood, the delicious juice had disposed him for a frolic ;-nothing more, he assured the farm-yard guardian upon his honour and reputation. At this piece of assurance, Scout, who had a spice of humour in his composition, could not resist laughing; and Chanticleer, as much amused by the impudence of the Fox, might be heard chuckling in the barn. "Thy honour and reputation!" reiterated Scout, satirically; "why thou art reputed for the veriest purloiner and common pilferer of these parts; and as for thy word of honour, it would not get thee credit for a bunch of grapes, if thou wert to offer thy brush as a pawn for it! But I have better employment than to parley with a knave of thy breeding so prepare for the worst that may befal thee!" And saying this, he sprung upon the trembling culprit, who had crouched in conscious cowardice to the earth; and in a moment the piercing teeth of the courageous dog met through his throat. The struggle was not long, for Reynard, being somewhat feeble from age, was no match for an antagonist in the prime of youth and vigour, and in a short time he lay dead at his feet; whereupon the Cock crew as triumphantly as if he had partaken in the contest. As for the faithful Scout, he kept guard over the vanquished foe till the morning light broke in, and revealed to his generous master the vigilant watchfulness he had maintained, and the victory he had won over the enemy of all farm-yard fowls. Beware of him who assumes a disguise, and lurks in the dark; beware of his pretensions, for they are lies,of his flatteries, for they are lures. The Christmas Bor. Those young friends who may be fortunate enough to receive this pleasing offering at the hands of their relations or friends, as affection's tribute, will possess a gift of much value. In the CHRISTMAS BOX, the sister arts of poetry and painting are happily blended, and among its contents will be found many pieces of sterling merit ; that would not discredit a miscellany of much higher pretensions. Here is one THE BRIGAND. BY JP HOLLINGS, ESQ. The scorner of pursuing bands, The fire, the steel, the chain,Beneath whose fierce and ruthless hands The cry for aid is vain, He sits, where day's young beams illume To cast its inward weight aside, [NEARLY a dozen of the ANNUALS have now passed in review before the reader. We have have given in extracts such portions, as in the spoken impartially of their several merits, and perusal have pleased us best. We are aware that, in making such a selection, we have many tastes to please, and whilst one party coincides with us, the other disapproves, and taxes us with prejudice; but the above comments are made without reference to the many popular names of both artists and authors who have contributed to launch these splendid volumes upon the ocean of public opinion] Illustrated article. THE NEAPOLITAN LOVERS. For the Ollo. ISANA DE VALDICINI, a Neapolitan lady of remarkable beauty, was beloved by the rich and haughty Count Friedman, insomuch, that failing to secure her affections, he resolved to destroy his more fortunate rival, Count Ismund, and bear the lady away to his castle. Friedman was a man of fierce and violent passions, and any scheme that suggested itself to his dark imagination he rarely failed to carry into execution. It was on one of those exquisitely bright and balmy evenings, common enough in Italy, but which are of rare occurrence in this dull clime of ours, that the Senora de Valdicini perambulated the delightful gardens of her chateau; the sun was setting in full effulgence, and the cool evening breeze, fraught with a thousand odours, wafted VOL. VI. 2 F See Page 450 lightly on her cheek. Sunset was rapidly succeeded by twilight; the shadows of evening gradually deepened around, and the clear blue heaven, with its multitude of stars, lay quietly reflected in the bright waters of the bay. The gardens terminated in a handsome terrace, partly shaded by a range of stately cedar trees, while the blossoms and tendrils of numerous luxuriant and odoriferous plants sported over the carved balustrade, and swung their dazzling foliage on its tesselated pavement. At one end of the terrace stood a little alcove, which commanded a fine view seaward; here it was Isana's custom to resort, and await the approach of her lover, who was wont of an evening to row his gondola in that direction. The lady accordingly moved towards the terrace, and gazed for some moments across the waters; at length, however, she retired into her little bower, and touching the strings of a lute which it contained, she accompanied herself to the following words: 165 1 Ascend, effulgent lamp of night, Thy herald star hath kiss'd the wave, Towards the conclusion of her song, the planet whom she had invoked arose bright and beaming from the waters, and bathed the luxuriant foliage of the gardens, the rich and fragrant groves of orange, citron, and myrtle trees, the terrace, with its mantle of dew-weeping flowers, the festooned alcove, and the lovely nymph it contained, with its mild and silvery splendour. At this moment Isana beheld her lover's boat, and hastily throwing her lute aside, she hurried forth to welcome him; but, instead of meeting Count Ismund, she found herself in the grasp of a tall ruffianly figure, cloaked and masked, who without waiting a moment's parley, hurried her down the steps of the terrace, and leaping into the boat which awaited him, he gave his commands in a rough tone to five or six others, who were stationed at the oars, and the vessel shot across the waters with the rapidity of lightning. So suddenly was the capture of Isana effected, that all chance of resistance was entirely cut off, though it would have been vain and even dangerous had she offered any, for the villain, with a fearful execration, threatened if she made the least alarm, to plunge his stiletto into her bosom; the instrument, as he spoke, gleamed in his uplifted hand, and she beheld its point already tarnished with blood, a drop of which drizzled upon her neck-it was blood then newly spilt-good God! could it be Ismund's? had he been entrapped and assassinated?-The idea was too probable, and so paralyzing was its effect on Isana, that she fell into a swoon, from which she did not recover until the lapse of several hours. So soon as she returned to consciousness, she found herself in a spacious apartment, powerfully illuminated by a huge iron lamp, which hung from the ceiling; beside her stood a tall, grim visaged figure in whom she at once recognised her detested suitor. "Isana de Valdicini," he exclaimed, in a voice of ill-suppressed rage," thou seest before thee Count Friedman de Valenquez-him, haughty lady, whom thou hast treated with scorn and contempt,-behold him still a suppliant at thy feet. Nay, frown not, recollect thou art in my power! Swear to renounce Count Ismund, and accept the hand that will not be offered thee again." 66 "Never," answered Isana firmly,— never will I renounce my love! Villain, I fear thee not, my Isirund lives, and will shortly rescue his Isana from thy tyranny." "Thou art deceived, proud minion," shouted Friedman, chafing with rage; "thy Ismund-ha! ha! ha! the raven hath scented him ere this, and gorges on his bloody corse. Once more I offer thee my hand-reject it, and by hell this dagger, red with Count Ismund's blood, shall quickly mingle with thine own." "Strike then, ruffian," cried Isana, throwing herself back in her seat,— "'tis the only kindness thou canst yield me." At this moment a wild outery, mingled with a violent clashing of weapons, was heard in the lower apartments of the castle, while a deep clear voice, which made itself plainly heard above the din, commanded a party of men up the turret stair; the door which the Count had slightly fastened was quickly beaten down, and a party of soldiers, led on by a tall and stately figure in half armour, rushed sword in hand into the apartment; Isana started up in amazement, and fell with a scream of joy into the arms of her beloved Ismund; meanwhile the Count, who at first seemed paralyzed with terror, shook off those who had seized him and leaping with the fury of a tiger on his hated rival, he struck at him with his full vengeance; the next moment saw him dashed from the window of the apartment into the tide, which lay glittering in the moonlight at a tremendous distance beneath. In conclusion, it is necessary to inform the reader, that a page of Isana's, who had been absent on some excursion, and happening to return about the time when Ismund chiefly visited the chateau, was accordingly taken for the Count himself, and received the dagger of Friedman in his breast as he was about to land. Isana's capture was imme→ diately succeeded by the arrival of Ismund, who learnt from the dying page the fate of his mistress. Without a moment's delay, the Count procured a sufficient force, and sought the dwelling of bis savage rival, from whose power, as we have already recorded, he effected |