*

TO A CHILD.

(For the Parterre.)

Yes, I do love thee well, my child!
Albeit, mine's a wandering mind,
But never, darling, hast thou smil'd,
Or spake a word that did not find
A ready echo in my heart:

What hours I've held thee on my knee, Thy little rosy lips apart,

And when asleep, I've gazed (on thee, Or humm'd old tunes, that oft bring rest, And hugg'd thee closely to my bosom, And blesss'd thee-from my heart I've blest,

My hope, my care, my blue-eyed blossom!

all caps)

T. MILLER.

THE DEATH OF SIKANDER.

A ROMANCE OF HISTORY.

THE bannered hosts of Macedon stood arrayed in splendid might. Crowning the hills, and filling the valleys, far and wide extended the millions in arms, who waited on the word of the young Sikander; the most superb array of human power which sceptred ambition had ever evoked to do its bidding. That army was to sweep nations off the earth, and make a continent its camp, following the voice of one whose sword was the index of glory, whose command was the synonyme of triumph. It now stood expectant, for the king yet lingered.

While his war-horse fretted at the gate, and myriads thus in silence awaited his appearance, Sikander took his way to the apartment of his mother. The sole ligament which bound him to virtue and to feeling, was the love of that mother; and the tie was as strong as it was tender. In mute dejection they embraced; and Sikander, as he gazed upon that tender face, which had never been turned to him but in tenderness and yearning love, seemed to ask, "Shall I ever again behold that sweet smile?" The anxiety of his mother's countenance denoted the same sad curiosity, and with out a word, but with the self-same feeling in their breasts, they went out together to seek the oracles in the temple of Philip, and to learn their fate.

This narration is given by the Persian historians, as the manner of Alexander's death. It differs entirely from the Greek accounts. The hero is called variously by Asiatic writers, Iskander. Sikander, and Secunder. They represent him to have been thirty-six years old when he died; the same age as Lord Byron.

Alone, in unuttered sympathy, the two ascended the steps of the sacred temple and approached the shrine. A priest stood behind the altar. The blue smoke of the incense curled upward in front, and the book of oracles was before him. "Where shall my grave be digged?" said the king; and the priest opened the book and read, "Where the soil is of iron and the sky of gold, there shall the grave of the monarch of men be digged."

To the utmost limit, Asia had become the possession of the Macedonian. Fatigued with conquest, and anxious to seek a country where the difficulty of victory should enhance its value, the hero was returning to Europe. A few days would have brought him to the capital of his kingdom, when he felt himself suddenly ill. He was lifted from his horse, and one of his generals unlacing his armour, spread it out for him to lie upon, and held up his golden shield to screen him from the mid-day

sun.

She

When the king raised his eyes and beheld the glittering canopy, he was conscious of the omen. "The oracle has said, that where the ground should be of iron and the sky of gold, there should my grave be made! Behold the fulfilment! It is a mournful thing! The young cypress is cut down in the vigour of its strength, in the first fulness of its beauty. The thread of life is snapped suddenly, and with it a thousand prospects vanish, a thousand hopes are crushed! But let the will of fate be done! has long obeyed my behest! I yield myself now to hers! Yet my mother!" And the monarch mused in melancholy silence. At length he turned to his attendants, and ordered his tablets to be brought, and he took them and wrote: "Let the customary alms which my mother shall distribute at my death, be given to those who have never felt the miseries of the world, and have never lost those who were dear to them;" and sinking back upon his iron couch, he yielded up his breath. They buried. him where he died, and an army wept over his grave!

When the intelligence of the death of Sikander was brought to his mother, as she sat among her ladies, she was overwhelmed by anguish. "Ah! why," she exclaimed, "was I exalted so high, only to be plunged into such depth of misery? Why was I not made of lowlier condition, so haply I had escaped such grief? The joy of my youth is plucked

up, the comfort of my age is withered! Who is more wretched than I?" and she refused to be comforted.

The last wish of her son was read to her, and she resolved to perform that one remaining duty, and then retire to solitude to indulge her grief for the remainder of her life. She ordered her

And

servants to go into the city and bring to the palace such as the will of Sikander directed, selecting those who were the poorest. But the messengers ere long returned, and said that there were none of that description to be found among the poor. "Go, then," said the queen, "and apply to all classes, and return not without bringing some who have never lost any who were dear to them.” the order was proclaimed through all the city, and all heard it and passed on. The neighbouring villages gave no better success; and the search was extended through all the country, and they went over all Macedonia, and throughout Greece, and at every house they stood and cried, "If there are any here who have never known misery, and never lost those that were dear to them, let them come out and receive the bounty of the queen ;" but none came forth. And they went to the haunts of the gay, and into the libraries of the philosophers; to the seats of the public office, and to the caves of hermits; they searched among the rich and among the poor, among the high and among the low, but not one person was found who had not tasted misery; and they reported the result to the queen.

"It is strange!" said she, as if struck with sudden astonishment. "Are there none who have not lost their friends? and is my condition the condition of all? It is not credible. Are there none here in this room, in this palace, who have not always been happy? But there was no reply to the inquiry. "You, young page, whose countenance is gay, what sorrow have you ever known ?"

"Alas! madam, my father was killed in the wars of Sikander, and my mother, through grief, has followed him!"

And the question was put to others, but all had lost a brother, a father, or a mother.

"Can it be?" said the queen in perplexity. "Can it be that all are as I

am?"

"All are as you are, madam," said an old man who was present, " excepting in these splendours and these consolations. By poverty and humility, you might have lost the alleviations, but you could

USURER:-Can you realize this image? he is pale and sickly; and his face, if I might be permitted the expression, fis thin and watery like that of the man in the moon; its colour is like gilded silver, whose polish has been dulled; his hair is smooth, carefully combed, and of a cinder colour; his features are passionless, like those of M. de Talleyrand, as if they were moulded in bronze; his eye, as yellow as a'baboon's, is nearly destitute of lashes; his lips and chin are sharp and thin; his diminutive eyes are always protected from the light by the green front-piece of an old cap; he is always dressed in rusty black; his age is a problem; it is doubtful whether he is old before his time, or whether he economised his youth in order to make it last longer.

His life glides on as noiselessly as the sand of an old hour-glass; his actions. from his hour of rising in the morning to his periodical fits of coughing in the evening, are all as regular as the pen

dulum of a clock. Like the insect which inhabits the crevices of decayed wood, and which, when touched, rolls itself up and pretends to be dead, this man, should a carriage pass by while he is speaking, ceases his talk, in order not to force his voice. Like Fontenelle, he is avaricious of the motions of vitality, and concentrates every human feeling in I.

His existence is a mystery. The only person with whom he communicates confidentially is myself. It is to me he applies for a light; he borrows my books and my newspapers, and in the evening I am the only person he admits into his closet, and to whom he talks unreservedly. These marks of confidence have grown out of a neighbourhood of seven years. I know not whether he has relations or friends; I have never seen any with him. His fortune is in the vaults of the bank of France, and he collects his notes himself, because (as he once told me) he charges two francs over and above the discount for every walk he takes for their payment.

One evening I entered the room of this man, whose trade it is to make gold. I found him in his arm-chair, motionless as a statue, his eyes fixed upon the mantel-piece, where he appeared to be reading the rates of discount. A dilapidated lamp threw a lurid glare upon his pale visage. He raised his eyes as I entered, but said nothing; and I seated myself by his side, in the chair which was prepared for me.

"Can this being think?" said I to myself. "Is he conscious of the existence of a God, of human passion, of woman, and of happiness! Good evening, father Gobseck!"

He turned his face to me, and his dark, shaggy eyebrows were slightly contracted; this was the nearest approximation to a smile I ever observed on his features.

poets who print thesr verses? demanded he.

"Poetry in that soul?" I asked of myself internally.

"There is no life so brilliant as mine," continued he, and his eye sparkled. "Listen, and by the recital of this morning's events, you may form some idea of the nature of my pleasures."

He rose, and pushed to the bolt of his door, drew before it a curtain of old tapestry whoserings creaked discordantly upon the iron rod, and resumed his seat.

"This morning I had only two notes to collect, because I had paid over all the others due, as ready money to my customers. The first bill was presented to me to be cashed by a very handsome young man, who came in a tilbury; it was signed by one of the most splendid women in Paris, the wife of a rich proprietor; but how his signature was obtained I knew not, and it was no business of mine; it was for one thousand francs. The other bill for the same amount was also drawn by 'a female, and was signed Fanny Milvaut.' It was brought to me for discount by a linen merchant. The Countess resided in the Rue du Helder, and Fanny in the suburb of Montmartre. If you knew the romantic conjectures I framed in going there this morning! what a proud satisfaction I felt, in thinking that if these women were not prepared with funds, they would be forced to treat me with as much reverence and respect as if I were their father..

6

What would not the

Countess be compelled to submit to on account of these one thousand francs! She will have to assume an affectionate air, and to speak to me in those soft, sweet accents which she reserves, most probably, for the indorser of the note; she must exhaust each caressing phrase, perhaps entreat me on her knees, while I -" and here the old man gazed upon me with a look of ice; "I," resumed he, "will be inexorable, I will be there as an avenger, as a personification of commencing remorse-but, let us quit these suppositions—I arrived there.

"The Countess has not yet risen," said her waiting-woman.

"When will she be visible?"
"At noon."

"Is your lady ill?,'

"No, sir-but she did not return from the ball until three o'clock this morning."

"I then went to the suburb Montmartre, and at the door of a humble residenee, I asked for Mademoiselle Fanny Milvaut."

"She has gone out," the portress replied; "but if you came on account of the bill, I have the money ready for you.'

"I will return," I observed; for at the instant the portress told me the money was there, I felt a curiosity to know the young girl, and I concluded at once that she was beautiful.

"I passed the morning in looking at the engravings displayed for sale in the Boulevards, and, as the clock struck twelve, I crossed the hall which led to the Countess' apartment.

"The Countess has only just rung her bell, and I do not think she can be seen yet."

"I will wait," I observed, and seated myself in a gilded arm-chair.

The window-curtains in the Countess' bed-room were scarcely drawn, when the attendant appeared, and begged me to walk in.

The manner in which she addressed me led me to anticipate that her mistress was not prepared for my visit. But what an exquisite creature I beheld! She had carelessly flung a. Cashmere shawl over her shoulders, but had enveloped herself in it so gracefully that each ravishing charm was perfectly defined! She was dressed in a pretty morninggown, as white as the driven snow. The raven tresses escaped in confusion from the Indian handkerchief which was capriciously wound round her head, after the Creole fashion. Her couch was in most picturesque disorder, and it was evident that her slumber had been a troubled

one.

azure.

A painter would have given much for the opportunity of portraying such a scene. Under hangings voluptuously disposed, a pillow was flung upon a counterpane of blue silk, whose fringes of lace made a vivid contrast to the delicate On a splendid tiger skins, pread at the mahogany feet of the bed, sculptured so as to represent lions' paws, glistened a pair of satin shoes, thrown off in the carelessness occasioned by the fatigue of the ball. A rumpled dress hung across a chair, and its long sleeves swept the floor. Stockings, which might have floated on the lightest breeze, were twisted round the arms of a chair, and exquisite white garters were tied in a knot, and flung upon an ottoman.

Flowers, diamonds, gloves, a bouquet, and a belt, lay scattered here and there, and a faint odour of perfume was just perceptible. A rich fan, half unfolded, was on the chimney-piece, and the drawers of a bureau were half open. Everything shewed luxury and disorder, beauty without harmony, wealth and misery in strange alliance. The worn and weary features of the Countess were in keeping with her chamber, covered with the fragments of a fête. These scattered gewgaws excited my compassiou; for when collected together the preceding evening, they must have caused a sort of delirium in the minds of those who gazed upon their wearer. They were like the relics of a love which remorse had crushed; the images of a life of dissipation, luxury, and bustle; the efforts of Tantalus to snatch at pleasures without substance. A scarcely perceptible freckle or two upon her face, enhanced the exquisite delicacy of her skin; her features seemed as if they were a little swelled; and a dark circle beneath her eyes was more strongly marked than ordinary. Nevertheless her nature had sufficient energy to pervent these indications of dissipation being prejudicial to the effect of her beauty. Her eyes sparkled, and she resembled one of the Herodiades in Leonardo da Vinci's painting (for I have been a picture broker in my time). She was in the full vigour of life and strength; no clumsiness of shape nor irregularity of feature interrupted the perfection of her beauty. Although she inspired love, still there was something about her which seemed to be superior to the passion. I was pleased with her; and it was a long time since the pulses of my heart had beat. I was paid in gazing upon her; for I would give more than a thousand francs any day for one sensation which should bring vividly before me the recollections of my youth.

"Sir," she said, pointing to a chair, "will you accommodate me by waiting for a few days."

66

"Until to-morrow at noon," I replied, folding up the note I had presented to her. "I have no right to have it protested till then." But I said within my own bosom, you shall pay for your luxury, your rank, your fortune, and the monopoly of every thing you enjoy. For the wretch who robs for bread, there are tribunals, judges, and scaffolds; but for those who sleep upon, and under silk, there is remorse and gnashing of teeth while your lips are softened into a smile,

and claws of steel which pierce into your very heart."

19

"A protest! Surely you would never think of such a thing?" she exclaimed, looking at me steadily. "You could never have so little consideration for a female!"

"If the king owed me money, madame, and did not pay, I should sue him."

"At this instant a gentle tap at the door of the chamber was heard.

"I am not at home," cried the young lady, in an imperious tone,

"But, Emily, I wish to speak to you."

"Not now, dear," she replied, in a gentler accent, but which was still with out any tenderness.

You are jesting, Emily, for I know that you have been talking to some one." "And a gentleman, who could be no other than the Count, suddenly made his appearance. The Countess gave me a hurried glance-I understood her, and at that moment she was my slave. Ah! there was a time when I was silly enough not to protest under similar circum

stances.

"What is your business, Sir," the Count inquired of me.

"I saw the woman tremble. The white and satin texture of her neck became -wrinkled, and contracted like what is commonly called a goose's skin. I laughed inwardly, but my muscles were unmoved.

"This person is one of my upholsterers," said she. The Count turned his back upon me, and I drew the note half out of my pocket. When she perceived my gesture, and that I was inexorable, the lady came close to me and handed me a diamond.

"Take that," said she, "and begone!" "We exchanged values-I bowed, and withdrew. The diamond was well worth twelve hundred francs. As I went into the court-yard, I saw two sumptuous equipages, and a crowd of lacqueys brushing their liveries and polishing their boots. These are the causes, I said to myself, which bring people to me which make them rob their country of millions, or force them to betray it. To prevent their splashing themselves on foot, they put up, at last, with a thorough wallowing in the mud. At this very instant, the great gate opened, and gave admittance to the elegant tilbury of the young man who had brought the note

to me.

"Sir," said I, when he had alighted,

"here are two hundred francs, which I will trouble you to return to the Countess; and you will please to notify to her, at the same time, that I shall hold the pledge she has given me this morning for eight days, to await any future arrangement she may wish to make re specting it."

"He took the two hundred francs, and could not suppress a derisive smile, as much as to say, "Ah! ah! she has paid you, then! so much the better!" I read in his physiognomy the Countess's future fate.

"I then bent my steps to the Montmartre suburb to Mademoiselle Fanny's, I mounted a very steep and narrow staircase, and when I reached the fifth story, I was introduced into a newly-furnished room, where everything was wonderfully neat and comfortable. There was not the slightest trace of dust upon the simple furniture of the chamber where Ma demoiselle Fanny received me. She was a young Parisian girl, elegant and fresh, and prepossessing in appearance, with chestnut hair, lustrously combed in two bows upon her temples, which formed a beautiful contrast with her blue eyes, as clear as crystal. She was attired with the utmost simplicity, and the light in. tercepted by the curtains drawn across the window, threw a soft shade upon her lovely countenance. She was opening a piece of linen, and innumerable fragments around her sufficiently indicated her habitual occupations. She seemed to me quite an ideal image of solitude. When I presented my note to her, I observed that I had not found her at home when I called in the morning.

"But," she said, "I left the money. with the portress.' I pretended not to hear her, and rejoined,

"It appears, Mademoiselle, that you go out early every morning."

"I looked steadfastly at her, and at one glance I understood the whole affair. She was the child of a family formerly in affluent circumstances, but whom misfortune had driven to labour. There was an indescribable air of virtue, mo desty, and native nobility in every feature and gesture, and everything about her was in conformity with her manners. seemed to breathe an atmosphere of sin cerity and candour.- When you came in I was thinking that Fanny Milvaut would make a delightful little wife, and for the next fortnight I shall delight myself with contrasting her pure and solitary existence with that of the Coun tess, who has already one foot in vice!