hours before his time; will you receive him?"

"You see how weak I am, father; have pity on me; let me repose, I beseach you, even if it be the repose of the tomb."

"You will enjoy eternal repose with the elect, my dear son," said d'Aigrigny, as he left the room.

M. Hardy, left alone, clasped his hands in despair, and falling on his knees, cried, "Oh, my God! my God! remove me from this world; I am too unhappy to live." Suddenly a noise was heard; the door of the apartment was opened with violence, and d'Aigrigny, pushed by Agricola, staggered into the room.

"Dare you employ violence?" cried d'Aigrigny, pale with rage,"

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"I dare do anything to see M. Hardy," replied Agricola, advancing to his employer, who was still on his knees, in the middle of the apartment.

CHAPTER VIII.-AGRICOLA BAUDOIN. The three actors in this scene remained mute for several minutes. Agricola was struck with surprise at M. Hardy's wasted features, but as yet he had not discovered the debilitated state of his mind. D'Aigrigny, addressing M. Hardy, was the first to break silence.

"I imagine, my dear son," said he, "that after your recent positive and voluntary decision not to receive Monsieur, that his presence must be painful to you; and I hope that from deference, or at least gratitude to you, he will, by retiring, put an end to this indecorous scene, which has already lasted too long."

Agricola, turning his back to d'Aigrigny, said to his employer, "Ah, sir, how glad I am to see you, although you appear to be suffering greatly. My comrades would be so happy to be in my place. If you only knew what they have commissioned me to tell you. We all cherish and venerate you.'

D'Aigrigny cast a glance at M. Hardy, which signified, "What did I tell you?" Then, approaching Agricola, he said, “I have already told you that your presence here is unseasonable."

But Agricola, without noticing him, said, "Monsieur Hardy, have the kindness to tell this man to leave the room. My father and I know him well; he is aware of this." Then turning to d'Aigrigny, and eyeing him with indignation mixed with disgust, added, "If you wish to hear what I have to say to M. Hardy respecting you, you can return in a few minutes, but at present I wish to speak to him on private business, and to give him a letter from Mademoiselle de Cardoville, who knows you as well as my father and I do."

The Jesuit coolly replied, "Permit me to

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"Permit you, my dear son," replied d'Aigrigny, feigning the utmost surprise; are you not at perfect liberty to do what you like. Did you not, in spite of my request for you to receive Monsieur, explicitly refuse this interview!"

"You are right, father."

D'Aigrigny, after this reply, could not well persist any longer; therefore, rising and pressing the hand of M. Hardy, he said, with an expressive gesture, "I will return shortly, my dear son, but remember what I predicted to you in our recent conversation."

"Do not be uneasy, father."

The Jesuit left the apartment.

Agricola, surprised and confounded, asked himself if it was really his old employer that he heard calling d'Aigrigny father with so much deference and humility; then, examining M. Hardy's features more attentively, he observed on his wasted countenance an expression of feebleness and lassitude, which both pained and alarmed him. Endeavouring, however, to conceal his feelings, he said, "At length, sir, you are about to be restored to us. We shall soon see you in the midst of us. Ah! your return will render many persons happy, and allay much uneasiness; for, if possible, we love you more since we have been afraid of losing you."

"Kind and worthy youth," said M. Hardy, holding out his hand to Agricola, with a melancholy smile, "I never for a moment doubted either you or your comrades; their gratitude always recompensed me for the good I was enabled to do them."

"And which you will still do them, Monsieur, for—"

"Listen to me," interrupted M. Hardy, “I must speak frankly to you, in order that neither you nor your comrades may entertain hopes which can no longer be realised. I have decided to live henceforth, if not in a cloister, at least in profound retirement, for I am tired, oh, very tired—”

"But we are not tired of loving you, sir," cried Agricola, more and more alarmed at M. Hardy's dejection, "it is our duty now to devote ourselves to you; to assist you by industry, zeal, and disinterestedness, to rebuild the factory, your noble and generous work."

M. Hardy shook his head sorrowfully,

and replied, “I repeat to you, my friend, that I have done with active life; you see in how short a time I have grown twenty years older; I have now neither strength, will, nor courage to recommence the labours of the past. I have done what I could for the welfare of humanity. I have payed my debt, and now I have only one desire, and that is for repose; only one hope for the peace and consolation which religion procures."

"What, sir, do you prefer remaining in this sad solitude to living among those by whom you are so much beloved? Do you think you will be happier here with these priests than in your factory, rebuilt and more flourishing than ever?"

"There is no more happiness for me here below," replied M. Hardy, sorrowfully. "Sir," resumed Agricola, "they are deceiving you shamefully."

"What do you mean, my friend?"

"I tell you, sir, these priests that surround you have sinister designs; don't you know the parties with whom you reside?"

"Pious members of the Society of Jesuits." "Yes, your most mortal enemies." "Enemies!" said M. Hardy, with a smile of sorrowful indifference, "I have nothing to fear from enemies. What injury can they do me now?"

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They wish to despoil you, sir, of your share of an immense inheritance. Their plan is conceived with infernal tact; the daughters of Marshal Simon, Mademoiselle de Cardoville, Gabriel, my adopted brother, and in short, every one belonging to your family have nearly fallen victims to their machinations. I tell you, that these priests have no other object than that of abusing your confidence; it was for this they caused you to be conveyed here after the burning of the factory.

"You are mistaken, my friend; they have taken the greatest care of me; and, as to this pretended inheritance, of what use is the wealth of this world to me now? The affairs of this vale of misery and tears are no longer anything to me. My sufferings are known to the Lord, and I wait for him, in his mercy, to call me hence."

"No, no, sir, it is impossible that you can be so changed," said Agricola, who could not believe what he heard; " you, sir, believe in these desolating maxims! You that always spoke to us of the inexhaustible goodness of God! And we believed you, for he had sent you amongst

us."

developing their understandings, elevating their minds, augmenting their happiness, and diffusing among them sentiments of equality and fraternity? Ah! sir, only remember the good you have done, and the daily benedictions of the little community that was indebted to you for the unlookedfor happiness it enjoyed!"

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My friend, of what use is it to recall the past? If I have acted well in the sight of the Lord, he will reward me; but, instead of exalting myself, I ought to bow down in the dust, for I have been, I fear, in an evil path, and have strayed from his church; therefore I must expiate my guilt in solitude, with tears and mortification."

Agricola was overwhelmed with sorrow on hearing these sentiments; he stood for several minutes silently gazing on the sinister maxims selected from the "Imitation." At length he drew from his pocket Adrienne's letter, in which he placed his last hope, and presenting it to M. Hardy, said, "Sir, one of your relations desired me to give you this letter."

"What good can it do, my friend?" "Read it, I beseech you, sir. Mademoiselle de Cardoville waits for your reply. It relates, sir, to very important interests." "There is left for me only one important interest, my friend," said M. Hardy, raising his eyes to heaven.

"Read it, sir, in the name of that gratitude which we will impress on the minds of our children, who will not have had the happiness of knowing you; and if, after you have read it, your opinion is not changed, then your poor workmen will have lost for ever their benefactor. No matter your memory will always be held sacred by us, and we will never pronounce your name save with tenderness and respect."

In uttering this, Agricola, in spite of the masculine energy of his character, could not restrain his tears.

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Pardon," he added, "if I weep; it is not for myself alone; my heart bleeds when I think of the tears that will be shed by those who will say to themselves,' We shall never again see M. Hardy-never!"

Agricola's emotion was so sincere, and his frank and noble countenance had such an expression of devoted attachment, that M. Hardy, for the first time since his sojourn with the reverend fathers, felt his heart warmed and animated, and he held out his hand to Agricola, saying, " Thank you, my friend-this new proof of your devotion is sweet to me."

"Ah! sir," cried Agricola, with a gleam of hope, "listen to the dictates of your heart; it will tell you to confer happiness on those who love you. Read this generous lady's letter."

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No, no, I ought not,” replied M. Hardy,

hesitatingly, "it will bring me nothing but regret; it is true I loved you all, and devised many projects for your future welfare, but of what avail is this? the past cannot be recalled." At length, overcome by Agricola's entreaties, he began to read the letter; his countenance brightened as he proceeded, and when he reached the close, he exclaimed, “What kindness, and what intelligence! what elevation of thought! I shall never forget her generous offers to me. May she be happy in this sad world!"

"Believe me, sir," said Agricola, "a world which contains such beings as this excellent lady is not entirely one of wickedness and corruption; listen to her advice, accept her offers, and leave this house of death.

"Leave this calm retreat, and return to a world where I have suffered so much? No, I cannot-I ought not."

“I have not entirely relied on myself to induce you to leave this house. By the advice of Mademoiselle de Cardoville, I brought the abbé Gabriel de Rennepont with me."

"Who is he?" asked M. Hardy.

CHAPTER IX.-THE HIDING-PLACE.

Close to the apartment occupied by M. Hardy was a place of concealment capable of holding two persons, in which, owing to a large tube skilfully placed, a whisper uttered in the adjoining chamber could be heard, and also, every thing that took place there could be seen through the holes in the wall which we have already described.

When d'Aigrigny found he could not delay an interview the results of which might prove so disastrous to the projects of the Jesuits, he went to consult Rodin, who at once perceiving the impending danger, and wishing to see and hear, that he might judge for himself, hastened—after he had dispatched an emissary to the palace of the archbishop of Paris, the object of whose visit will subsequently appear to the hiding-place along with d'Aigrigny. The two reverend fathers reached their place of concealment a little before Agricola had prevailed on his employer to read Adrienne's letter. Rodin, whose indomitable energy had enabled him to go through

the terrible operation performed by Doctor Baleinier, was now out of danger; he was, however, frightfully meagre, and might have been taken for a living illustration of one of those ascetic monks belonging to the sombre school of Spanish painting.

When Gabriel entered M. Hardy's apartment, d'Aigrigny, casting at Rodin a look of despair and vexation, said in a low voice, "But for the letter of Mademoiselle de Cardoville, the entreaties of Agricola would have been made in vain. Is this accursed girl to be everywhere the obstacle to mar the success of our projects? In spite of all our efforts she has renewed her acquaintance with the Indian; if the abbé Gabriel should crown all by rescuing M. Hardy from us, what shall we do then? we can only despair for the future!"

"No," replied Rodin, coolly, "if my orders be not executed too slowly at the archbishop's palace, I will answer for success, but I must have the papers in less than half an hour."

"They ought to be signed, for, in accordance with your commands, I wrote on the day of the operation, and"

Rodin, instead of continuing this conversation, placed his eye close to one of the apertures, through which he could see what was passing in the adjoining apartment, and then signed to d'Aigrigny with his hand to remain silent.

(To be continued.)

THE OXFORD POETICAL CLUB.

The following quaint account of the Oxford Poetical Club we extract from an old and facetious work, entitled "Terra Filius; or the Secret History of the University of Oxford," published in the year 1754.

Divers eminent and most ingenious gentlemen, true lovers and judges of poetry, having, with great grief, observed that noble art declining in Oxford (its ancient seat and fountain) resolved, if possible, to restore it to its pristine vigour and glory. They justly apprehend both from reason and experience, that a critical lecture, in a term, though never so judicious, was not sufficient, and that the theory of any art was defective without the practice; and, therefore, they thought the best method to forward this design, would be to institute a weekly meeting of the finest geniuses and beaux esprits of the university, at a certain place to be appointed by them, where they might debate the cause of poetry, and put its law into regular execution. This proposal was immediately assented to, and the next question was where to meet?

This occasioned a short debate, some

speaking in behalf of the King's Head, and some declaring for the Crown; but they were both opposed by others, who presumed that the Three Tuns would suit them much better; in which they carried their point, and the Three Tuns was thereupon nominated the place of meeting.

This club is miscellaneously composed of persons of all faculties and persons of no faculties, as lawyers, parsons, physicians, gentlemen, commoners, &c.; and is styled a society for the reformation and improvement of the antient art and mystery of rhime making."

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The present members are the Rev. Dr. Drybones, Dr. Levy, Dr. Crassus, Mr. Peter Crambo, Mr. Thomas Sadman, Mr. Edward Fustian, Mr. John Jingle, Mr. Timothy Triplet, Mr. Oliver Point, Mr. Daniel Easy, Mr. Alexander Tag, Mr. James Stanza, Mr. Thomas Paroquet, Mr. Thomas Wharton, and Mr. Pickering Rich. At the first meeting there had like to have been a warm contest between the aforesaid Mr. Wharton and Mr. Rich, who stood candidates for the president's chair; and the members were in some perplexity which of the two they should prefer to that honour, having both of them distinguished themselves in an uncommon manner: but, at last, they came to a resolution, nemine contradicente, that it did of right belong to Mr. Wharton, in consideration of his seniority and of his professorship in the same art; with this clause, however, in favour of Mr. Rich, that the society did not by this intend to suggest that the said Mr. Wharton possesses any superior talents, skill, or abilities, in the said art, to him the said Mr. Rich. This was esteemed a very prudent and politic course, as it prevented all manner of bickering, jealousy, and emulation, in point of honour, between these two gentlemen, which might otherwise occasion great heats and animosities among the members, who would, of course, divide themselves into parties, some on one side and some on the other, as their particular fancies, interests, and prejudices, led them, to the apparent dangers, if not the total dissolution of the society.

Whereas by this cautious method the honour of both parties was preserved untouched, and though Mr. Wharton took possession of the chair, yet Mr. Rich was declared as good a poet, and his successor.

Having settled this dispute they appoint ed a committee to prepare such laws as should appear necessary for the preservation and good order of the society.

This committee was composed of the aforesaid Mr. Pickering Rich, chairman, Mr. Peter Crambo, Mr. Thomas Sadman, Mr. Edward Fustian, and Mr. Daniel Easy; who drew up the following orders, to be obeyed by all persons belonging, or to belong to, the said society: viz.—

1. That no person be admitted a member of this society, without letters testimonial, to be signed by three persons of credit, that he has distinguished himself in some full catch, sonnet, epigram, madrigal, anagram, acrostic, tragedy, comedy, or epic poem.

2. That no person be admitted a member of this society, who has any visible way of living, or can spend five shillings per annum de proprio; it being an established maxim, that no rich man can be a good poet.

3. That no member do presume to discover the secrets of this society to anybody whatsoever, upon pain of expulsion.

4. That no member do in any of his poetical lucubrations, transgress the rules of Aristotle, or any other sound critic, ancient or modern, under pain of having his said lucubrations burnt in a full club by the hands of the small beer drawer.

5. That no member do presume in any of his writings to reflect on the church of England as by law established, on either of the two famous universities, or upon any magistrate or member of the same, under the pain of having his said writings burnt as aforesaid, and being himself expelled.

6. That no tobacco be smoked in this society, the fumigation thereof being supposed to cloud the poetical faculty, and to clog the subtle wheels of the imagination.

7. That no member do repeat any verses, without leave first had and obtained from Mr. President.

8. That no person be allowed above the time of one hour to repeat at once.

9. That no person do print any of his verses without the approbation of the major part of this society, under pain of expulsion.

10. That every member do subscribe his name to the foregoing articles.

When these several orders were reported to the society, by the committee, some objections were made to three of them.

First, Dr. Crassus objected against the sixth; that being a very fat man, and of a gross constitution, he humbly apprehended that the use of tobacco would carry off those noxious, heavy particles, which turn the edge of the fancy, and obstruct his intellectual perspiration. He was seconded in this by a physician his friend, who confirmed what he said, upon which a clause was ordered to be inserted, to impower the said Dr. Crassus to enjoy the free use of tobacco. Provided nevertheless that he smoke in a corner of the room, so as not to offend the rest of the company.

Then, Mr. Paroquet made his objection against the second article, alleging that he could not, with a safe conscience, declare that he had no visible way of living;

or that he could not spend five shillings per annum de proprio. But he was quickly made easy in this by Mr. President, who, with great judgment, explained the nature of that article, by observing, "that as God is the sole author and disposer of all things, we cannot in a strict sense call anything our own, nor say that we have any visible of living, our daily bread way being the bounty of his invisible hand; and therefore said that pious casuist, you may, salvu conscientia, declare that you have no visible way of living; and that you cannot spend five shillings per annum de proprio, though, according to vain human computation, you are worth five thousand pounds a year."

Lastly, Mr. Timothy Triplet objected against the last article, upon the humble representation, that he could not write, and therefore could not comply with the strict letter of the law; but he offered to set his mark, if that would do; which was accepted without any hesitation; it being truly no uncommon thing in many an excellent poet.

All these difficulties being removed, the several articles were ordered to be fairly engrossed and framed to be hung up over the mantel-piece in their club-room, for the use of the members.

And then they paid their reckoning, and adjourned till that day seven-night.

MINUTES OF THE CLUB.

The members being met and the President having assumed the chair, Mr. Alexander Tag desired to be informed whether the fifth article, which prohibits all reflections upon the church of England, as by law established, excludes the use of the heathen deities in his christian compositions, which was answered in the negative, it being, as they observed, impossible to excel in love poetry without them. Upon which Mr. Tag expressed a great deal of joy; telling them that he had almost finished a long epithalamium, which he would shortly submit to their exami nation. By this time, their poetical blood began to circulate, and several members repeated their extemporary verses with great fluency and applause. During the first part of the night, their thoughts were somewhat gloomy, and ran upon elegies and epitaphs both upon living and dead men, Exempli gratia.

On Peter Randal, of Oriel College.

Here lies Randal Peter,

Of Oriel, the eater;

Whom death at last has eaten,

Thus is the biter bitten,

Of him nothing is memorial,
But that he was a fellow of Oriel.

Upon old Jo. Pullen, of Maudlin Hall.
Here lies Jo. Pullen,
Wrapt up in woollen.

Upon Jacob Bobart, keeper of the physic garden.

Here lies Jacob Bobart,
Nailed up in a cupboard.
On the cook of St. John's College.

Here lies the honest cook of our college,
Who choused us out of eight hundred pounds, to
my knowledge.

These four were all written by a gentleman who has, on many occasions, distinguished himself by his wit and humour. An epitath upon the Whigs.

Crossing o'er the south seas, in the late stormy weather,

Down sunk the poor Whigs, and their leaders together;

So false boys at last, is our old proverb found, That born to be hanged, they would never be drowned.

On Mr. Young.

Mayst thou continue like thy verse, and for ever

Hail! mighty bard' noted for tickling song,

Young.

This was written by Mr. James Stanza, hearsed, but whether it was designed by and was mightily applauded when reway of satire or panegyric, this deponent cannot positively set forth.

An author's epitaph by himself.
Here lies the author of the apparition,
Who dy'd, God wot, but in a poor condition,
If, reader, you would shun his fate,
Nor write, nor preach, for church or state;
Be dull, exceeding dull, and you'll be great.

Upon some verses of Father William.
Thy verses are immortal, O! my friend,
For he who reads them, reads them to no end.
By the Rev. Dr. Drybones.

On Belinda.

Bright as the sun, gentle as the moon,
when this at midnight shines, and that at noon;
Belinda fires the breast and charms the sight,
Then let us toast her round from morn to night.

Mr. Paroquet wrote these with his diamond ring upon one of the glasses, and handed it about with great success. To Calia. Since in religion all men disagree, And some one God believe, some thirty, and some three;

Since no religion called by any name,
In ten, nay two believers is the same;
But since in woman from the days of Eve,
All nations, tongues, and languages believe,
Since in this faith, no heresies we find,
To love, let our religion be resigned,
And Cælia reign the goddess of mankind.

This was written by Mr. Edward Fustian, which being voted heretical, it was burnt by the hands of the small beer drainers, in a full club, and the author was expelled, according to the laws in that case made and provided.

This ended the first meeting of the "Oxford Poetical Club," whether any subsequent ones were held, is not chronicled; however, the proceedings of the one before us, give us a good idea of the facetious style of writing at that day.

He wrote a poem for Mr. Tickel.