66 Nothing nothing, dame;—go on." "Well," said the old woman, "it was just such a night as this— —” Susan!" cried a voice at the door, in that tone which implies haste, and a fear of being heard—“ Susan! open the door." "Good God," shrieked Susan, "that voice!"—and all the women rose at one moment, and stood staring atthe door, which Susan was unlocking. "The key won't turn the lock-'tis rusty-who's there?" she breathlessly exclaimed, as in the agony of suspense she tried to turn the key, while the big drops stood quivering on her brow. She trembled from head to foot -her companions stood like statues-the lock flew back, the door opened- nothing was seen but the black night, and the large drops of rain which sparkled in the beams of the candle on the table." There is no one," said she, panting for breath; "but as I stand here a living woman, 'twas his voice. James! James!" she cried, and put out her head to listen, She heard quick, heavy footsteps hastily advancing at the end of the street: presently a party of six or seven blocademen rushed by the door, dashing the wet from the pavement in Susan's face. They passed with no other sound than that made by their feet, and were quickly out of hearing. "I wish I may die," said old Margery," but the blockade-men are chasing some poor fellow who has been obliged to drop his tubs; for I saw the blade of a cutlass flash in my eyes, though I couldn't see the hand that held it." My bonnet! my bonnet!" cried Susan; "there has more befallen this night than any here can tell. 'Twas his voice-stay in the house till I come back-'twas his voice!"-and she ran out through the still driving rain, in the direction of the party that had just passed. They took the street that led to the cliffs; not a light was to be seen-lamps in a smuggling town being considered a very obnoxious accommodation; and, though there may be a rate for watching, the inhabitants take especial care there shall be none for lighting, inasmuch as a lamplighter never yet breathed the air of Folkstone. Susan reached the cliffs; the wind blew fresh and strong off the sea, and the rain appeared abating. She thought she saw figures descend the heights; and quickening her pace, stood on the edge, straining her sight to distinguish the objects flitting to and fro on the beach. She heard a faint "hallo!"-the sound thrilled through every nerve-it was the voice she had heard at the door. She returned the salute; but the buffetting of the wind choked her timid cry. The hallo was repeated; Susan listened with her very eyes. Her distended fingers seemed grasping to catch at sound. A sound did rise above the roar of the breakers and the rushing of the wind it was the report of a volley of carbines fired on the beach. Susan screamed, and sunk on the edge of the cliff, overpowered with terror and anxiety. Quickly there was seen a flashing of lights along the coast, and men running from the Martello-towers to the beach in disorder. Then was heard the curse for curse, the clashing of cutlasses and discharge of arms, and the hoarse shout of some of the smugglers, who had succeeded in putting their boat off from the shore with part of her cargo, which it appeared they had been attempting to work. Susan well understood the import of these dreadful sounds, and recovering from her fright, was striving to ascertain from her station the position of the parties, when a hard breathing of some one, apparently exhausted, arrested her attention, It seemed to issue from beneath, and, looking over the summit of the cliff, she perceived the shadow of a man cautiously ascending. He had almost accomplished his task, and was grasping a jutting fragment of stone, to enable him to rest for a moment from the fatigue of his attempt. Susan heard him panting for breath, and, in endeavouring to discover whether he wore the jacket or the smock-frock (the latter being the usual working attire of the smugglers), heard him sigh heavily. She thought it was a form she knew she bent over the edge, and held her breath in the very agony of hope and fear. The figure stood with his back to the cliff, and, looking down on the beach, ejaculated, "Oh, God!" It was in one of those moans which betray the most acute suffering of mind, which thrill through the hearer, and create that kindred overflowing of the heart's tears which makes the sorrow of the afflicted more than our own. Susan heard the sound, and breathlessly answered" Who is it?" The figure sprang upwards at the response, and exclaimed "Susan!" "James! James!" she cried. He caught a large tuft of grass to assist him in darting into her expanded arms, when the weed broke by the roots from the light sand in which it had grown ;-a faint cry, and the fall of a body, with the rattling of earth and stones, down the steep, where the sounds that struck terror, and madness, and dismay through the brain of poor Susan. She attempted to call for assistance, but her voice obeyed not the effort, and, in the delirium of the moment, she sprang down the cliff, but, fortunately, alighting on a projection, and at the same time instinctively catching the long weeds, was saved from the danger her perilous situation had threatened: but still she continued her descent, stepping from tuft to stone, reckless whether she found a footing, or was precipitated to the base; which the darkness concealing, all below looked like a black abyss. Susan alighted in safety on the beach: an indistinct form lying on the shingle met her view. "James! James!" she cried, "speak! let me hear your voice for mercy's sake tell me, are you hurt?" No answer was returned: she grasped his hand, and felt his brow; but, on the instant started from the form in horror-the hand was stiff, and the brow was deadly cold; and then, as if all her powers of utterance had become suddenly re-organized, she broke forth into such a cry of anguish, that it pierced through the noises of the night like the scream of a wounded eagle. A pistol-shot was heard; the ball whizzed past the ear of Susan, and harmlessly buried itself in the sand of the cliff. A party of the blockade rushed toward the spot, and, by the light of a torch, discovered the poor girl stretched on a smuggler. They raised her in their arms-she was quite senseless; and holding the light in the face of the man, they saw that he was dead. "She's a pretty young creature!" said one of the men; "it's a pity she could'nt let her sweetheart come to the beach alone, for she seems almost as far gone as he is; what shall we do with her, Sir ?" This was addressed to a young man of the group, wearing the uniform of a midshipman, and whose flushed and disordered countenance proved that he had taken a considerable share in the late desperate en counter. "Take her to the tower, Thomas," said he; "she may assist with her evidence the investigation of this affair. The body of the man must also be carried to our station, for I dare say we shall grabble some of the rascals before the night's work is over, Our lieutenant has ordered the boat to be pursued that put off in the scuffle; and, as some of the cargo is now lying about the rocks here, we must look out for another squall." One of the sailors sustained the still senseless Susan in his arms, while the corpse followed borne by four others on their carbines. "This fun was not expected, Infant Joe," said one of the men to the gigantic figure who carried Susan in one of his arms, with as much ease as he would have conveyed a child, and who, in mockery of his immense bulk, had been so nicknamed. 66 'No," was the laconic reply. "I think," continued the other, "'twas your pistol settled that poor fellow, for he lay in the very point of the woman's scream when you fired." "Yes," said Joe with a grin, "mayhap it was; and I wish each of my bullets could search twenty of 'em at once as surely and as quickly." "Halt!" cried the officer who was commanding the party; "if mistake not I perceive a body of men, creeping on their hands and knees, at the foot of the cliff. Out with your torches, or we may be fair marks for a bullet." The men instantly obeyed, and, at the same moment, discovered their progress was interrupted by a gang of armed smugglers, who instantly commenced a practical argument for the right of way by furiously attacking the blockade. At the first fire, the ponderous bulk bearing the light form of Susan reeled and fell with its burthen on the earth; and a smuggler was seen to rush wildly through the chaos of contending beings, hewing his passage with a short broad cutlass, and apparently having but one object in view. A retreat of the smugglers, and the consequent advance of their antagonists brought him to the spot were Susan, still senseless, lay wound in the sinewy arm of the prostrate man-of-war's man. He endeavoured to disengage her from his grasp: and, on placing his hand on her neck, he felt that his fingers were straying in warm and still oozing blood. He trembled, and gasped for breath :there were two beings senseless before him-one must be seriously wounded, perhaps dying or dead. dragged Susan from her thrall: the action was followed by a groan from the man, who faintly rose upon his knees, and made a grasp towards the female with one hand, and drawing a pistol from his belt with the other, discharged it at random, and again fell exhausted. The report was heard by some of the still contending party, and forms were seen hastening to the spot; but the smuggler had safely ascended the cliff with Susan, and sitting on the summit, wiped the drops of agony and toil from his brow, and placed his trembling hand upon her heart. At the first he could discover no pulsation; he pressed his hand firmer against her side, and with a cry of joy sprang upon his feet-he felt the principle of life beat against his palm. He again elasped her in his arms, and, with the speed of a hound, ran across the fields leading from the edge of He the cliffs, darted through the church-yard there, till his quick step was heard on the stones of the paved street. The inhabitants were at their doors and windows, anxious to catch the slightest word that might give them some intelligence of the conflict! for the reports of the fire-arms had been heard in the town, and all there was anxiety and agitation: but the quick questions were unanswered, the salutes were nnnoticed the form that rushed by them was heard to gasp hardly for breath, and they were satisfied something desperate had taken place. The smuggler gained the street Susan had set out from ; the women, and others who had joined them, were gathered round the door of the house, waiting with breathless impatience her return, and various were the conjectures of the night's events; when a voice, whose tones all knew, was heard to exclaim" stand o' one side there; a chair! a chair!" They made way for him in an instant; he darted into the house, placed Susan in the arm-chair, and dropped on the door. with his forehead resting on his arm. "James!" the women cried, "are you hurt?" They received no reply; but his convulsive panting alarmed them: they raised him from the ground, while one of the women lighted a candle. At that moment a scream of dismay escaped them all: those who had stood listening at the door rushed in, and were horrorstruck on beholding poor Susan lying apparently lifeless in the chair, her face and neck dabbled with blood; but she breathed, and not a moment was to be lost. Restoratives were applied to both, the blood was cleansed from Susan, and, to the joy of all, not a wound could be perceived. James had now sufficiently recovered to stand and bathe her temples: he kissed her cold, quivering lips-she slowly opened her eyes—the first object they rested upon was her husband! She started from the chair, and gazed at him with a mingled expression of terror and delight. James, seeing the effect his appearance produced, pressed her in his arms, where she lay laughing and crying, and clasping him round the neck, till the shock had subsided, when she sat like a quiet child on his knee, reposing her head upon his shoulder. None had as yet ventured to ask a question, but all impatiently waited till Susan should break the silence that had now followed the confusion of cries, tears, and wonder. But she seemed to have no other wish on earth-she was in her husband's arms -beneath their own roof—and that was question and answer, and every thing to her.-James appeared restless, and attempted to rise; but the motion was followed by the close winding of Susan's arms round his neck, Then, as if suddenly resolved, and chiding himself for some neglect, he started from his seat. 66 Susan," said he, "you are better now; keep yourself still till I return-I shall be but a few minutes." "No, no," cried Susan, grasping his arm with both her hands" not again-go not again. I shall be able to speak to you presently; don't leave me now, James." "You mus'n't persuade me to stay," replied he; "I left the crew fighting with the blockade when I saw you in that fellow's arms; but I must go back again, for life and death are in this night's business. One of us has been shot, poor Peter Cullen drowned-he would drink in spite of our orders, and fell overboard. I tried to save him; but I'm afraid he lies dead under the cliff, just where I first saw you, Susan, when I lost my footing. But I must go back, and see the end of it -now don't gripe me so hard, Susan-I must go. I dare say all's lost-but I must go. He struggled to release himself from Susan, when a smuggler rushed into the house, pale and exhausted; he flung himself into a chair, and, throwing a brace of pistols on the ground, exclaimed "The boat's taken-the tubs we had worked to the foot of the cliffs are seized too: we fought hard for it, but it was of no use!" and then he breathed a bitter curse in that low, withering tone, which seems to recoil upon the head of the curser, and clings only to him that utters it. "Well it can't be helped," said James, calmly seating himself; "it's no use repining now-words and sighs won't better it; though it is somewhat hard, after cruising about for three months, to lose our cargo at sea, and when we thought ourselves lucky that we escaped Cork jail, and got back to Holland with an empty hold, and tried to do a little business at home, to make such a finish to all as we have done to-night. Poor Peter's drowned too, Tom-d'ye know that?" 66 Ah!" said the other, "I thought it was all over with him when I saw him go ;-but how did you manage with him?' "Now it's all over," said James, I'll tell you the whole affair. When I plunged in after him, I popped a tub under my arm, thinking we were opposite a point where there was no watch; for, thinks I, if I can work a tub and save a man's life at the same time I shall do a clever thing; but I was some seconds before I could find Peter, it being so pitch dark. At last I saw something bob up to the top of the water, close to me— it was him, sure enough; I made a grasp, and caught him by the hair-kept his head above the surface, and got ashore with him. At that moment, a blockade-man 'spied me, and fired a pistol: I heard some of them coming towards me, so I dragged Peter under the cliff, and made for town; but the men-o'-war'-men followed me up so closely, that I was obliged to drop my tub, and crowd all sail. I got near home, and thought I could manage to drop in without being seen: but they had so gained upon me that I was obliged to run again right through the town, where I dodged them, till I found myself back again at the place where I left Peter. I felt him, but he was stiff and dead, poor fellow. I then thought I'd try if I could hail you; but the only answer I got was a report of fire-arms on the beach; then I knew that you must be working the boat slap in the teeth of the blockade. I listened a minute or two, and all was silent; so thinks I, they have either put out to sea again or have succeeded in working the cargo." "Yes," interrupted Tom, "we had worked part of it, and had hid the tubs under the cliff; when we were discovered and attacked: and three or four suddenly put off the boat, while we who were left had to fight it out, and get away as we could." Well," continued James, "I thought I'd mount the cliff and look out, and had got near the top-but what with wondering how you had managed, and thinking of Poor Peter and our unlucky cruise, I felt very melancholy, and was pulling-up to take fresh wind, when what should I hear but my Susan's voice! That so astonished me, that I lost my footing, and was capsized plump again on the shingle. There was no bones broke, however; and I was just about to hail Susan on the cliff, when I thought I saw some of the blockade coming; and, says I to myself, you mus'n't see me, my masters!'-so I crept close under the cliff, and passed them safe enough. Then, thinks I, I may as well find out where the lads are;' and thinking Susan would be up to the rig, and wait where she was, or go home again, I contrived to run along the bottom of the cliff, till I found myself tumbling among a lot of tubs. Oho!' thinks I, all's right yet;' and, while looking about, I perceived all of you creeping down the cliffs. You recognized me, if you recollect; and we were just preparing to clear the tubs snugly away, when the enemy's lanterns issued from a projecting part of the cliff. Douse they went in one moment, and, in the other, there we were with the blockade, yard-arm and yard-arm; but, when I first saw the light from their torches, what should I see but my Susan stowed in the arms of Infant Joe. In the surprise, I opened a fire upon him, but took a good aim notwithstanding; I saw him fall, and, laying about me right manfully, I seized upon my little brig, carried her away from the grappling-irons of the huge pirate, and towed her right into harbour-and here she is safe and sound-there's some comfort in that, ar'n't there, my girl?"—and a hearty kiss, with a murmured blessing, escaped from the lips of the rough young smuggler, as he again pressed the now happy Susan in his arms. : Two of his companions now entered the house: they were cordially received by their acquaintances and assembled but the hanging of their heads, the ill-stifled sighs, and the languid manner of taking the hands outstretched to welcome them, proved how severely their bold hearts felt their chilling disappointments and unrewarded toil. A dead silence followed their entrance for what could be said? The journal of their cruise and misfortunes was recorded in every line of their brows. It was a sad meeting; and sadness and silence love to be together. At length one of them looking at James, said "We heard that you had brought down Infant Joe; but, just as we came into the town, we were told that he was only wounded, and had been carried to the tower, with a pistol-bullet in his right shoulder." "In his right shoulder, eh?" said James, as he gave a loud whistle, and looked at Susan; "it was close chance for you, my girl. Well, I've no wish for his death; but if we ever should meet again. I am just as likely to snap my trigger, and perhaps with better success. But, Susan, my lass, I've been waiting all along to know how yon came on the cliff at such a time; and I'm somewhat jealous, too, at that same Infant Joe, and the manner he was convoying you so snugly." Susan smiled, and related her share in the events of the night, and concluded by entreating James to relinquish his desperate and unprofitable pursuit-to forego all thoughts of again embarking in a Winter Cruiseand, when the employment of the coast failed to procure them a quiet subsistence, to remove to some happier land, where industry may reap its reward, and the strong arm and sweating brow know their hours of comfort and repose.-Monthly Mag. STANZAS. I. I ROAM out in the twilight, Heart-broken and alone, Till the night-winds and the dropping dews For I feel that when unkindness It is happier to be cheerless too, II. The glow upon that cypress, Where my sire's cold ashes sleep, Would melt me into tears, had I Spirit enough to weep: But the grief that gnaws within me Will not be thus out-thrown; For despair hath round it closed, and shut The reptile in the stone. III. My father! oh, my father! Too early was I left, Of thy care, and well remembered love, And wisdom, all bereft. Though thou blessed art in Heaven, Couldst thou see the withered brow, And the dim eye of thy first-born son, Thou'd'st weep for him e'en now. CHRISTMAS. "Now Hospitality, to cheer the gloom The rural housewife lays the annnal block Of tenfold brightness glad its sable spot; WINTER, considered abstractedly, stands immeasureably behind its precursors in engaging qualities. It has not the verdant mantle, so gaily, and richly, and tastefully adorned, in which they successfully appear, nor the bright and enlivening beams in which they trip along the plain, nor the fair blue canopy beneath which they perform their gambols and pour out their varied delights. No! it has not the golden riches of autumn, the voluptuous treasures of summer, nor the " breathing fragrance" and halcyon warblings of spring, Sometimes, indeed, it seems disposed to try its powers of imitation, as if envious of their fame, but its attempts are ordinarily feeble; still, like the occasional hilarity of age, they please—not so much, however, from striking resemblance, as from contrast with the deep desolation in which they originate. Winter commonly brings with it days so short and gloomy, that our labours are closed almost as soon as begun,-cold so intense as to drive us to undue effort or indulgence, to escape its temporary or permanent inconveniencies,winds which whistle through avery avenue, and seem equally intent on ravaging our frames and our dwellings,—rain, hail, and snow, inducing the dolorous exclamations of Sterne's starling, "I can't get out! I can't get out!"-ice which makes many things, like much of the poetry and prose of the age, 66 want fire," -and thaws, which bespatter us at every step with dirt, reminding us of our kinship with what we presume most unpleasant and obnoxious, Yet, notwithstanding all these deficiences and annoyances, association often makes the anticipation of winter highly pleasurable; while the thought of Christmas touches a chord in many hearts which never vibrates so gladly to the premonition of another period. The name is confessedly by no means appropriate or happy. but it is one which, embalmed by many predilections, is not likely soon to be relinquished. Reader! thou wast once a schoolboy; Eton, Harrow, or Rugby, may have poured into thy mind the streams of classic lore from the twigs of the birch, and made thee profoundly mathematical, after inscribing on thy bare and shivering back some of the diagrams of Euclid. Hast thou never seen the tribes of little happy mortals filling post-chaises and coaches, and passing down the roads leading to the metropolis, shouting and laughing at the thought of their six weeks' emancipation, as if they were an age, and school were a dungeon, and the pedagogue an ogre? -and " Verily, I'd go several miles a-foot to partake their glee-to put out my arms, that they might spring at once to the ground, joyous to them as Britain's soil to the slave to see Pincher, against all laws, invading the parlour, mounted by the little urchin, wild with delight and the black cat patted and kissed-and to hear the exclamations, "O mamma, the silver peg of my top came out!"--" Papa, here's my last copy book!" Harriet, I'm so glad I'm come, a'n't you now?" Nor is it to be supposed that joy is exclusively confined to the utterers of such sounds. Undoubtedly it is participated, in no small degree, by those to whom they are addressed; and by him who, for a long half-year, has been familiar with others of a different character. To have done for a time with the drawling repetition of "hic, hæc, hoc," and six times five are thirty;" with the reiterated explanation of the same arithmetical rules and grammatical principles; and with the propounding of the questions-What Roman Emperor invaded Britain? or What is an Isthmus?--is to reach a consummation" more devoutly to be wished" than any can appreciate, except those who, having borne the ponderous burden, exult at its removal. To such a man, the final shutting of his desk must be like the key-note of a delicious melody, and the last "Good bye, sir," grateful as friendship's warmest recognition. At this period, too, the social principle is ordinarily cherished with peculiar attention and fondness. Truly is it said 66 "Close and closer then we knit Oh! they wander wide, who roam, Those who are in the very prime of existence, may be found surrounded by their children, often long and widely separated. In exchange for school stories, and accidents, and successes, they relate to the little blooming throng the circumstances of their own early days, and puzzle them with questions and riddles, at which they once looked up to the ceiling with a finger on the lip, in vain; and to which they once replied, “O, papa, I can't guess-do, do, tell me!" Who have the preponderance of happiness at such times-the affectionate parents thus employed, or those who, with shining faces, are seated in the lap, and climbing about the knees-I confess myself unable to determine. Not a few of our old-fashioned couples make way for the same feeling, though in them it bears a more staid and sober character. They are not satisfied without assembling their children and grandchildren around their board; and nothing that can be avoided, prevents the gratification of the parental desire. There is no weakness in this: it presents a delightful contrast to the family feuds unhappily common, and indicates the maintenance of that kindly feeling with which nature is instinct, and which violence only can eradicate. Such a scene yields an ornament to the aged, and a pledge to the young; it wears a peculiar tinge of loveliness, it is irradiated by many bright beams, which, like those of the sun setting in all its glory, not only impart a splendour to the day that is declining, but promise that others succeeding it shall be graced with similar effulgence. Even the less affectionate intercourse of life receives a tone from those domestic engagements and delights, which are its fairest, finest specimens. In our provin cial towns, as well as in the metropolis, there is an interchange and binding of thought and feeling, to which other seasons are not so favourable. The favourite author may now be tasked for our friend's advantage, until his admiration of the pencilled passages equals our own, the knotty point often agitated, may now properly be set again in motion, that like the hurried steps of the traveller it may the sooner find rest,―anecdotes of ourselves or our contemporaries will now find attentive and grateful auditors, and those who have manuscript poems or essays, soliciting "candid opinions," may now bring them forth with the best chance of regard. Such engagements have usually the extraordinary stimulus afforded by a visitor. If he be a man of intelligence, or if the lady be "intelligent," a visit will doubtless be appreciated in town; but if the individual would be truly distinguished, let him determine to spend his Christmas in some little favoured part of the kingdom, many a mile from the dark and dense atmos phere of the "great village.' The arrival of such a personage is a new era in their history, During his stay, the unlocking of his own ample stores has the effect of opening others, wasting from concealment; and when he is gone-gone with many a longing eye and sorrowful heart-his visit is reckoned from, as if the almanack embalmed it, like Shrove-Tuesday, or Whitsun-Eve. And well it may be; for though every circle may have its oracle,, yet even he gets weary of playing this character, and is glad to listen where he has been accustomed to speak—or at least to give only his part to the evening's conversation, which he has often found as impossible to maintain alone, as it is to make up a concert with a solitary fiddle, or mince pies with only currants or plums. A sly satire was doubtless intended by a pair of prints which I only recently saw. One exhibited a stage coach going to London the day before Christmas. Pheasants, turkeys, hares, partridges, &c. &c. filled it instead of passengers substantial proofs indeed, of the benevolence which some posses, and not a few embody. Its companion depicted the London coach proceeding on its way, but with no such incumbrances. necessary, I could up the glove in behalf of my Southern friends, and in my own name cast on its author the insinuation; for my correspondence has one resemblance Were it to Cowper's-it often contains P. S., intimating my thankfulness" for the fish ;" and not unfrequently a likeness to that of others almost equally distinguished who thought a few new volumes wet from the press no unacceptable present. Besides, the coach occupied only by passengers might contain some of the "literati," and then I would joyfully prefer their society over the plain roast beef and plum-pudding of Old England, to the discussions of "the prime haunch," the "moorgame," and the nondescript kickshaws of an epicure table. But why that significant smile, gentle reader? If I am growing egotistical, I will not long be garrulous; and perhaps my desultory lucubrations may smooth some wrinkled brow, by calling up kindly associations, should they have no such effect upon thee. The fact is, I seized my goose-quill as a lover of cheerfulness, and I mean to be its advocate, I have no sympathy with the long-faced and imperturbable beings, who look as blank, and dull, and laughterhating, as if vinegar was their only beverage, and who, were all the world's wit concentrated would merely "Grin horribly a ghastly smile." No if they are determined never to inspire happiness, I would have them never impair it. Solitude is the place for owls and bats; or, if they must have society, it should be that of each other. Well is it for them, and perhaps for me, that my charge is so ineffective :— hence! hence! "Procul, procul, este profani!" FOR EVER THINE. A LOOKER-ON. For ever thine-whate'er this heart betide The world may wrong us, we will brave its hate, But drink to thee in thought-for ever thine. I would not, sweet, profane that silvery sound, |