sion, with that assurance in his ears, yield now?" "But, Mr. Ellison," I cried interrupting him with the matter-of-fact sagacity of a child, "did n't it seem strange to Eleanor that Paul had told Clement nothing about his engagement?" "Ah, Mabel," sighed my guardian, "no great sin but has its lesser ones. Long since, Paul had found it necessary to tell Eleanor a false story concerning his present suspension of intercourse with Clement." I think this absolute lie of Paul's touched my aunt as sensibly as any point in the history, for she broke silence. "And what," she said, "was the end of this wretched young man's history? Are you going to tell us we must not despise him?" With had succeeded in convincing him of his forgiveness, of his continued friendship even. 'After the first shock of feeling,' he said, the thought of what a nature like yours must suffer, which had been tempted to such an act, changed, slowly, I grant, but still changed, resentment into sympathy. For my own consolation, I studied the New Testament; it has taught me lessons which I think, Paul, you as well as I have missed. I won't insult you by dwelling on my free pardon; if it is worthy of acknowledgment, put your hand once more to the plough, labor for the welfare of others, and so work out your own.' He argued against remorse, and urged the considerations which I have brought more feebly forward, with such effect, that Paul laid them to heart, and strove to test their truth. "One moment longer," urged my guardian, God's forgiveness sought and obtained, and "and you shall pass your judgment. Paul that of the man he had injured — with princimarried Eleanor you are surprised? Alas! ples drawn from a deeper and diviner source poetical justice is not the rule of this life. than he had known beforewith a spirit Yet why do I say alas? has it not a higher humbled but not crushed, he proved that life rule? He married her then, each loved the still lay before him as a field for honorable other, but Paul was a miserable man. His and remunerative labor. I believe his friend friends noticed it; naturally then his wife; respected him more in this second stage of his but he kept his secret: no wonder months experience than before; I know he did not wrought upon him the effect of years. Never-respect him less. Will any other presume to theless, he neglected his duties he had no do so?" asked Mr. Ellison, approaching my heart for them; self-contempt, a bitter aunt. "My dear friend, wonder not at my remorse, cankered every aspiration, enfeebled tenderness to Mabel; that is the salutary effort, sapped and destroyed his capabilities. result of so severe an experience; it is my Life slipped wasted through his fingers. I own story I have told." could not," said Mr. Ellison, "give you an idea what he suffered, but I believe he was at this time deeply mistaken, increasingly criminal. If a man's sin be black as hell and his was black remorse cannot mend it; so long as he lives, life requires duties and effort from him; let him not think he is free to spend it in this selfish absorption." “True," said my aunt; but let him not expect, even though he strive to rise and partially succeed, that he is to be respected as a worthier man.' "A year passed," resumed my guardian, without heeding the remark, "and Clement returned to England. Originally, he had a noble soul sanctifying sorrow had made him great. He inquired after his former friend, wrote to him, assuring him he could meet Eleanor now with the calmness of friendship; and forced himself upon him. I say forced, for, naturally, Clement was to Paul an accusing angel. An agonized retribution was at hand for the latter; Eleanor died in her first confinement, after but a few hours' illness; her infant even died before her. In this extremity, well was it for Paul that Clement was at hand; in his overwhelming grief, the past seemed cancelled; he could claim and endure his friend's magnanimous tenderness. When he recovered from this stroke, he roused himself to a new existence. Clement I think my aunt must have guessed the truth ere this, for she made no immediate answer. I was silent with astonishment. My guardian turned and looked at me. “Mabel," he said earnestly, let me not have humbled myself before you in vain. God preserve you from sinning against your own nature and Him; but where you fall, God give you grace and strength to rise and strive again. And grant me this too, my child; after-life you may have much influence; for my sake, for your own experience of suffering and shame, be merciful to the wrong-doer. Make it one of your duties to help the fallen, even though she be a woman, and convince her that all is not lost in one false step. God provides against his creature's remorse shall man be less merciful to his brother?" in "Mr. Ellison," said my aunt," the life of effort and self-denial you have led condemns my severity. I have been too harsh; but I must seriously review this argument. Mabel come here!"-I approached her timidly; she drew me nearer. "One must still repent before they can be pardoned," she said; "but I think you do repent, Mabel?" My tears flowed. "Aunt, forgive me," I whispered; "I am sorry indeed. I don't like to say it, but I think I shall never tell a lie again!" She kissed me, and rose up; there were tears in her eyes. "Let it be, then, as though it had never been, except to teach you Mr. Ellison's lesson," she said. She then approached my guardian. "I knew not," she added in a softened tone, and holding out her hand with an air of respect," how much you lost some years ago by Clement's death. Henceforth, you and I will be better friends." Mr. Ellison pressed her hand in silence; I saw he could not speak; I had an instinct From Notes and Queries. BISHOP KEN AND SIR THOMAS BROWNE. TURNING to Bishop Ken, I would observe that, in his excellent life of this prelate, Mr. Anderdon has given the three well-known hymns" word for word," as first penned. These, Mr. A. tells us, are found, for the first time, in the copy of the Manual of Prayers for the Use of the Winchester Scholars, printed in 1700. The bishop's versions vary so very materially from those to which we have been accustomed from childhood, that these original copies are very interesting. Indeed, within five years after their first appearance, and during the author's life, material changes were made, several of which are retained to the present hour. It must be admitted that some of the stanzas, as they first came from the bishop's pen, are singularly rugged and inharmonious, almost justifying the request made by the lady to Byron (as I have stated elsewhere*), "to revise and polish the bishop's poems." How came these hymns, so far the most popular of his poetical works, to be omitted by Hawkins in his collected edition of the poems, printed in 4 vols., 1721? My present object is to call your attention Midnight Hymn," by Sir Thomas Browne, which will be found in his works (vol. ii., p. 113, edit. Wilkin). Can there be a question that to it Ken is indebted for some of the thoughts and expressions in two of his own hymns? to 66 a The good bishop's fame will not be lessened by his adopting what was good in the works of the learned physician. He doubtless thought far more of the benefit which he could render to the youthful Wykehamists, than of either the originality or smoothness of his own verses. SIR THOMAS BROWNE. While I do rest, my soul advance ; My course, as does the nimble sun. * Sketch of Bishop Ken's Life, p. 107. CCCCLXXXVIII. LIVING AGE. VOL. II. 52 From the Spectator. LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS V. THE BUSH.* This title is rather inaccurate. Mrs. Moodie's new work does not present the same practical picture of daily life and family adventure among gentleman colonists, who have been wise enough to settle upon a cleared farm with plenty of neighbors in a similar position, as her Roughing it in the Bush exhibited of the struggles of a half-pay officer in attempting the part of a backwoodsman and clearing the forest himself. Something of Canadian life among the better classes in or near towns is delineated, and descriptions are given of Kingston and Toronto. In an account of Belleisle, where Mrs. Moodie resides, the reader is presented with a view of the changes which a few years make in Upper Canada in a settlement that succeeds; and many sketches of colonial manners and amusements are found in the volume. As a whole, however, Life in the Clearings wants spontaneity and a sense of reality. There is too much of digression and disquisition-as in an article on Wearing Mourning for the Dead, and another on Education. Tales, rather laid in America than closely illustrative of the writer's avowed object, and partaking too much of the common magazine story, are introduced. They want closeness, strength, and dramatic character. The effort of the writer to impart connection to her papers has contributed to give the book something of the made-up character it undoubtedly possesses. The framework is a voyage on Lake Ontario and the Niagara river from the writer's residence to the Falls. As long as the articles introduced are directly connected with the journey as the districts or the cities on the banks of the lake, which the description is appropriate. When night or some other interruption is made an excuse for spinning a yarn or introducing a discussion, the artificial character of the scheme is too apparent. It would have been better to limit the book directly to the voyage, or to have published the papers as what they are a series of tales and sketches relating to Canada. the steamer sees or calls at Although Life in the Clearings is not entitled to take high rank either as a book usefully informing respecting a new country or as a production of pure belles lettres, some useful information will be found in it, and a good deal of light and pleasant reading respecting Canadian life and manners. The following, however, is not a pleasant picture of the rising generation's contempt for age. Mrs. Moodie is inclined to ascribe it in part to the intellectual difference between the old colonists, who have come from the British *Life in the Clearings versus the Bush. By Mrs. Moodie, Author of "Roughing it in the Bush," &c. Published by Bentley. Isles without education, and their children, whom the gains of their parents have educated. It may be so, although that does not say much for the sort of education given in Canada; but the same thing takes place in the United States, where the remark does not apply. Tired and ill, I was glad to lie down in one of the berths in the ladies' cabin to rest, and, if possible, to obtain a little sleep. This I soon found was out of the question. Two or three and their grandmother, a very nice-looking old noisy, spoiled children kept up a constant din ; lady, who seemed nurse-general to them all, endeavored in vain to keep them quiet. Their mother was reading a novel, and took it very easy; reclining on a comfortable sofa, she left her old mother all the fatigue of taking care of the children and waiting upon herself. This is by no means an uncommon trait of Canadian character. In families belonging more especially to the middle class, who have raised themselves from a lower to a higher grade, the mother, if left in poor circumstances, almost invariably holds a subordinate position in her wealthier son or daughter's family. She superchildren; and her time is occupied by a numintends the servants, and nurses the younger ber of minute domestic labors, that allow her very little rest in her old age. I have seen the grandmother in a wealthy family ironing the fine linen, or broiling over the cook-stove, while her daughter held her place in the drawing room. old Age in Canada is seldom honored. You would imagine it almost a crime for any one to grow with such slighting, cold indifference are the aged treated by the young and strong. It is not unusual to hear a lad speak of his father, perhaps in the prime of life, as the "old fellow," the "old boy," and to address a grayhaired man in this disrespectful and familiar manner. This may not be apparent to the natives themselves, but it never fails to strike every stranger that visits the colony. To be a servant is a lot sufficiently hardto have all your actions dictated to you by the will of another -to enjoy no rest or recreation but such as is granted as a very great favor; but to be a humble dependent in old age on children, to whom all the best years of your life were devoted with all the energy of maternal love, must be sad indeed. they submit with great apparent cheerfulness, the shelter of a child's roof, and the bread and seem to think it necessary to work for they eat. 66 But "You are wrong, sir, it is not so" Mamma, that is not true; I know better," are expressions which I have heard with painful surprise from young people in this country; and the parents have sunk into silence, evidently abashed at the reproof of an insolent child. As in the United States, and all new colonies where life is frequently risked and time is too much occupied to be given to reflec tion, death is little thought of. In the following anecdotes, the unsophisticated Ca nadians appear not to have learned to affect the solemn on appropriate occasions. It is certain that death is looked upon by many Canadians more as a matter of business, and a change of property into other hands, than as a real domestic calamity. I have heard people talk of the approaching dissolution of their nearest ties with a calm philosophy which I never could comprehend. "Mother is old and delicate; we can't expect her to last long,' Bays one. "My brother's death has been looked for these several months past; you know he's in the consumption." My husband asked the son of a respectable farmer, for whom he entertained an esteem, how his father was, for he had not seen him for some time. "I guess," was the reply, "that the old man 's fixing for the other world." Another young man, being asked by my friend, Captain to spend the evening at his house, replied "No, can't- much obliged; but I'm afeared that grandfather will give the last kicks while I'm away." From Notes and Queries. A POEM BY SHELLEY, NOT IN HIS WORKS. THE following poem was published in a South Carolina newspaper in the year 1839. The person who communicates it states that it was among the papers of a deceased friend, in a small packet, endorsed "A letter and two poems written by Shelley the poet, and lent to me by Mr. Trelawney in 1823. I was prevented from returning them to him, for which I am sorry, since this is the only copy of them -they have never been published. Upon this poem was written, "Given to me by Shelley, who composed it as we were sailing one evening together." THE CALM. Hush hark! the Triton calls And the sea is as smooth as a well : For the winds and the waves In wild order form, To rush to the halls And the crystal-roofed caves Of the deep, deep ocean, To hold consultation About the next storm. The moon sits on the sky Like moss upon a tree, All is noiseless and bright. Still 't is living silence here, A humming and purring All about and about? 'Tis from souls let out, From their day-prisons freed, And joying in release, For no slumber they need. Shining through this veil of peace Feels through every feature The human mind restless But hush while I tell, As the shrill whispers flutter Through the pores of the sea Whatever they utter I'll interpret to thee. King Nepture now craves Of his turbulent vassals And the billows are quiet, Like snakes on the plain; On his glassy green neck; Of light floating from afar, To each muttering blast And some he binds fast The sharp rugged crags They all should rebel, Their prison-walls grasp, Of his presence bereaves them, From Bentley's Miscellany. DINING OUT FOR THE PAPERS. BY W. H. RUSSELL. I WAS sitting in my attic, very high indeed, up a collegiate Jacob's ladder, in St. John's, Cam. My pipe and fire had gone out together. The festivities of Grouter's party on the other side of the quadrangle, as they celebrated the wranglership of that worthy, but intense, "old stupid," sounded through my dreary domicile. -- 66 I gave lessons to some pupils, one so fair so (but I'll you about her another day); and besides, I do believe I was stupid. At all events, there I was, Artium Baccalaureus. My great-go passed, and the world, that very extensive and variegated prospect, before me. I was not fit for the church, for the law, or for the dispensary. It is an awfully abrupt thing when, at twoand-twenty, a young gentleman, without any money, is told, "Now, my dear fellow, go forth and make your fortune," or when he I, too, had run my academic race; but has to ask himself, "What the deuce am I alas! I had been distanced-beaten from the to do now?" I felt it so, I can assure you. very start. I had worked hard, to be sure, There was Grouter; now, as sure as fate, he'll for many years; but the conviction settled be a bishop, or, if very ill treated, a dean. slowly down on me that I could not do it. I He is heavy and honorable-ponderous, upnever got on well at lecture the Reverend right, and philosophical to a degree - a hardJack Lupus was always down on me (I was n't working sizar, whom Mr. Sine, our crack on his side, it is true, but then he changed tutor, coached up for the glory of his "side," sides to have a full opportunity for a cut at and to uphold "John's" against her snubby me). Proctors were always taking me up on neighbor, Trinity. But he is made to get on; suspicion, and discharging me with apologies; and the Earl of Grampound, a great whig the proctoring became known the apol-peer, has already engaged him at a fabulous ogies were never heard of. I used now and stipend to make the grand tour with Lord then to take a quiet pull from Logan's to Sarum; and as he is a tremendous Grecian, Chesterton. It was forthwith hinted I was he is safe on his way to the New Palace always on the water instead of reading; and at Westminster. There's Sandstone, the once having been found in a secluded walk hardest-going fellow that ever spirted up the with a cigar in my mouth, I was made the river; but he came up from Winchester, has theme of an eloquent discourse by Gubbins, coached carefully, and is sure of his fellowship our tutor, who got so confused between King after to-day. There's - but what is the use James'"Counterblast to Tobacco " (from of all this? What am I to do? My eye fell which he quoted copiously), the Apocalypse mechanically on the newspaper which had and Gregory the Ninth, that he identified been left in my room by Grouter, when I one with the other at last, and never got right, refused to join his party, with the remark, that all through his sermon; which had, however, "there were some instructive remarks, highly the effect of damaging me greatly with the adapted for a contemplative state of mind, in "heads of houses." But the thing that de- the Right Honorable Lord Cinderley's speech, cided my fate was my inability to pay the at the Destitute Goldsmiths' and Jewellers' reverend driver - our crack coach". the annual dinner," and so, to divert my thoughts fee necessary to come out in honors. I say from myself and my fortunes, I turned, with this without disrespect to anybody- -even to a grim smile of satisfaction, to read the the reverend driver, the coach he was aw- debate on a matter in which I had not the fully slow, but dreadfully sure, that's certain. smallest interest," the income tax." As I I don't mean to assert that fees are demanded | read on, I came across the florid reference of for honors by the authorities far from it. Mr. Shiel to the gentlemen of the press in but just go to Cambridge, and get honors with- the reporters' gallery; and first, I was astonout a coach, or get a coach without paying ished to find they came within the tax at all, for that pleasant mode of classical and mathe- and next, that the accomplished little orator matical locomotion, and then-why then- who was talking of them should have carI'll engage to give you one of the new East ried with him the applause of the house when India cadetships, when they are thrown open giving a highly eulogistic sketch of their atto public competition. Public schoolmen do tainments and abilities. My slight knowlit sometimes; sometimes, too, men tie wet edge of the mysterious operations of that towels round their heads every night for great agent was derived from occasionally years, and "read" till their brains are as seeing a red-faced, dirty, bald-headed man, limp and watery as the flax outside their in a state of extremest seediness, attending skulls, make a dash at first class and wrang- the meetings of a political club of which I lership, get either or both, and then quietly was a member, as the representative of the retire into some hole or corner to die in their county luminary," which certainly cast a laurels. But as a rule, the coaches are the most unsteady and alcoholic light on most of boys-I could not afford a coach-I could the topics presented to it by the gentleman in not read continuously-for, on the sly, question. The idea suddenly flashed across - |