"Yes; you said that you were afraid that you

me a present of it."

to

could not afford to make

"At that time I did not think so, Philip, but now I know that I can, and I have desired Mr. Trevannion to put out to good security the 38,000l. that the diamond was sold for, in your name, and for your use. You'll not hesitate to accept it, Philip, for you know that I can afford it.' "I do not hesitate, my dear Alexander, because I would do the same you, and you would not refuse me. At the same time that is no reason that I should not thank you kindly for your generous behaviour." Philip accompanied us on our journey to Cumberland. It was tedious, for the roads were any thing but good, but the beauty of the scenery compensated for the ruggedness of the way. In six days we arrived at the hall, where Mr. Campbell, who had called upon me on my arrival in London, had preceded me to make preparations for our reception, which was enthusiastic to the highest degree. We were called upon and congratulated by all the county, who were delighted to find that such a personage as Amy was to be the future mistress.

As soon as all this bustle and excitement was over, I sat down with Mr. Campbell to look over the state of affairs, and to set things to rights. After having done justice to many claimants, engaged again the old servants who had been discharged, promised farms to the tenants who had been unfairly turned out, &c., we then proceeded to decide upon what was to be done to the Dowager Lady Musgrave. It appeared that at my father's death, when she found that the deed had been destroyed by his own hands in presence of others, she became frantic with rage, and immediately hastened to secure the family jewels, and every article of value that she could lay her hands upon, but Mr. Campbell, having due notice of what she was about, came in time to prevent her taking them away, and, putting seals upon every thing and leaving, careful guards in the Hall, my lady had gone to her father's house, where she still remained. She had, on my arrival, sent me a message, imploring my mercy, and reminding me that whatever might be her errors, she was still the lawful wife of my father, and she trusted that respect to his memory would induce me to allow her sufficient to maintain her as lady Musgrave should be. We had the consultation that Amy proposed, and called in Mr. Campbell as a fourth, and it was at last decided, that on consideration that she removed with her family to a distance of fifty miles from Faristone, she should have an income of 300l. per annum, as long as she conducted herself with propriety and did not marry again. The last clause was the only one which she complained of. Mr. Campbell had, at the request of my father, discharged Lady Musgrave's parent from the office of steward and called in the old steward to resume his situation, and before dismissal he had to refund certain sums of money not accounted for.

I have now told my eventful tale; I have only to add, that after all that I have passed through, I have been rewarded by many years of unalloyed happiness. My two sisters are well married, and my three children are all that a father could wish. Such, my dear madam, have been the vicissitudes of a "Privateer's-man," and I now subscribe myself, Your most obedient,

ALEXANDER MUSGRAVE.

EARL SIMON.

BY CHARLES HOOTON.

I.

Carries us backward in Time-Time does not touch_all things in Nature-Love is ever Young and Eternal.

My mind strode back three hundred years ;-'twas open-eyed and clear.
I, ancient voices heard, and saw dead faces re-appear.

I saw a foregone lover woo a long-departed maid;

Though now the very dust is gone that in their tombs was laid.

And starlight in that vanish'd age was just as dim as now;

And when the moon came up, unchang'd, she show'd no brighter brow.
So know I, by an alchemy that in me hidden lies,

Though these three hundred years are fled, no older are the skies.

The orbs know nought of Time. For them, nor sand nor scythe he bears
To measure grain by grain their lives, or reap their ripen'd years.
Their lives are repetition all :-they're neither old nor young,-
These infants at a million years, and patriarchs when they sprung.
It was a starlight night I saw, three hundred years from hence:
A deep, transparent, purple night, like darken'd glass intense.
The sky lean'd on the shoulder'd hills, as loving languidly;
Or else the enamour'd hills strain'd up to kiss the gentle sky,-

I know not which; so tenderly each to the other prest;
Pure serious night her starry cheek, and honest earth her breast!
Ah me! How blest I felt, transpos'd into that antique time,
With solemn peace and silence deep, and quietness sublime!
The steady beating of the pulse of Nature's life I heard;-
That palpitation in the air, when air itself's unstirr❜d.
While innocent and unabash'd, beneath the curtain❜d night,
Rare beauties most remote were bared, that hide from common light.
What, in that midnight confidence of Nature's couch I learn'd
I may not tell again; but keep within my heart inurn'd.
For to all favour'd lovers she hath now and then reveal'd
Such bliss beyond all words as they, perforce, must keep conceal'd.

But this I may rehearse again;-how, on that tell-tale air,

I heard a youth, long dead, bespeak a vanish'd lady fair.
Though love may seem to matter not that endeth in decay,-
Yet life at spring-tide evermore will glorify its May.

Nor more shall priest or moralist the voice of love strike dumb,

Than prove-because the earth must end-the seasons need not come.
'Tis vanity itself to say that life and love are vain:

No less they both eternal are, although they die again.

The love that stirr'd in Paradise, while Eve was yet a maid,

The same dear serpent was, by which her daughters are betray'd.

Time cannot age that cherub, nor experience destroy

His simplest snare.-He still remains the same Eternal Boy.

II.

Love's world in prospect-Earl Simon opens his mouth and speaks about his
Affections.

Earl Simon and bright Genevieve stood by a clouded stream:

Hand-lock'd, and heart in heart, they dream'd the same delirious dream.
Dull earth's unkind realities were all beneath them bow'd,—

They shone with Eden's glory then, and trod upon a cloud.

Their season was all summer, and their sky eternal blue;-
A peaceful deep, where hopeful eyes another heav'n shin'd through.
Sweet Fancy's sapphire mountains wore, around their summits roll'd,
Gay wreaths of sunny cloud: and lakes lay broad in liquid gold.

That region knew not sorrow, sin, nor evil thought, nor care:
The bonds of human happiness were never broken there.
Love's founts were ever playing through a life without a crime,
Since Innocence, to bless that world, walk'd step by step with Time.
And such th' ideal future is, of every soul that loves.-

Earth's tiger-passions there look tame, and all its wings are doves.
The trusting heart, incredulous, no chance of change believes,
Until the show of iron fangs and talons undeceives.

Earl Simon whisper'd Genevieve," O, sweetheart, blythe and true!
Though newly come to man's estate, and my dominions new ;
No pleasure tarries at my gate, my empty halls are lone;
My woods look wither'd, and my tow'rs a dreary heap of stone.
"My waterfalls make music sad, because nor night nor day
Unto no other one but me they sparkle, dance, and play.
I ought to see thee everywhere, by fountain and by tree,
Yet everywhere thy form alone in memory I see.

"When suns shine out I fancy then thy shadow on my grass;
And when the breeze doth bend my flow'rs, I see this angel pass.
While to mine eyes the moonshine paints thy picture on my walls,
And when I hear the night-wind speak, 'tis Genevieve that calls.
"I start above my missal old, and list in tender pain;
Yet love so well to be deceiv'd, I'd be deceiv'd again.

But while I dwell with visions so,-though visions bright to view,—
My life as no real life appears, but grows a vision too.

"I tread, but do not feel the earth; I breathe, nor taste the air:
I meet young morning on the hills, yet ask not is she fair;
The world has dwindl'd out of sight; and in the blank I see

Thy image, Genevieve, alone, where else the world's would be.

"When shall my woods behold their Spring ?-When wilt thou make them green ?

And when within my castle walls their ladie sweet be seen?

When shall the moonlight mock no more ?—The wind no more deceive?
But in my soul be truly heard thy voice, my Genevieve ?"

III.

Genevieve replies, and laments the interference of Friends in love matters—Says what she would do, and favours Youth-Duke John dislikes Earl Simon-Difficulties.

"Alas!" said gentle Genevieve, "this life is bitter-sweet!

My heart wears down like earth between where streams conflicting meet.
The old forget that they were young, and would the young make old;
Nor leave to Time, the alchemist, to change to lead our gold.

"Duke John, my uncle guardian, heeds not about my age,
But looks, behind my maiden face, to find a hidden sage.
I warn him worldly wisdom best becomes his ashy hair,
And tendrils like to mine grow not upon a ground of care.

"What, though the morn of life less staid and solemn is than noon?
The fruit grows ripe in autumn that was green and small in June.
Why haste to beat the blossom down that soon itself would fall?
Just wait until the year is out,-'twill vanish, fruit and all!
"If I were old I would not force my wisdom on young joy,-
My heart aches often now to hear an old man in a boy.
This very thoughtlessness of youth I do esteem its pride:
'Tis beautiful to see its faith, but cruelty to chide.

"My soul abhors such learning as would teach a lamb its life,
Hangs on a butcher's will, and one red plunging of his knife.
Let life be life, and joy be joy, and youth remain in youth.
Such happiness of error 's worth a world of savage truth.

66

""Tis bad for simple maids to be deceiv'd in what they trust:
But worse to be deceiv'd, and told beforehand, too, they must.
Such bubbles on their surface still some pretty scenes display,
Let me enjoy them while they last, come next what sorrow may.
"I would be merciful, like God; who, when he gave us breath,
Kept back the frightful knowledge of the moment of our death.
But if I am to be deceiv'd, as hate would make believe,
"T shall be amidst a boundless faith in him who may deceive !"
"Oh, worthy of a hero's hand! oh, noble gentleness !"
Earl Simon cried,-" Who winneth thee, himself may truly bless.
But what of hate? who hates? and whom? If any hateth thee,
By instinct shall that craven know an enemy in me!"

66

'Ah, no!" said she, "why said I hate? 'tis not so bad as hate;

The man who could Earl Simon scorn deserves a felon's fate.

But fain would they persuade my mind, all men-when love grows old-
Forsake their loves, and at their hearts turn icy, hard, and cold.

"Yet marvel I how this should be, since change I never can;

And plain it is that I am but another sort of man.

But, woe is me! Duke John, I fear, has other ends in view:
He might not hate to see me wed, so it were not to you."

"Now tell me all, and tell me true!" aghast, Earl Simon cried,
"I fear the dagger, now he shows the handle at his side.
It needs no old hill-shepherd, weatherwise and deep, to know
Dark winter must be coming when we see a fall of snow."
“Alas, alas!” said Genevieve, "How will this trouble end?
For, of a truth too sorrowful, Duke John is not your friend:
And of all stern and savage men, would any two, than he,
Had vow'd, for ever by their swords, your enemies to be.

"To me he's always gentle as a wolf that yet laps milk;
And, mostly, I can lead him like my brach, in bands of silk;

But on this point-O mercy !-though I pray'd with hands and eyes,

I'd better ask the thunder not to speak along the skies.

"I wish old men were wise enough to leave young folks alone.

They dream of matching heart with heart, when 'tis but stone with stone.
And ever after life remains as if a whited wall:

No sunshine ever makes it gay, no colours on it fall.”

"But since such men can't wiser grow," Earl Simon thus replied,

""Tis meet the young, who better know, should for themselves decide.
What is it but to plant dead trees, the living God to mock,

If solemnly their hearts they lay upon a breast of rock?

"Why care a straw for that consent, we do without as well?"

"Not so, not so !" said Genevieve," as chronicle doth tell.

A wild old custom has obtain'd our family within,
Whereby who weds without consent weds lawlessly in sin."

IV.

The Family Custom concerning Marriage-Genevieve tells how her Ancestor avoided it -Duke John hides the Ring in a Mine, and Earl Simon vows to recover it or never

return.

"Who 'twas, or which, I do not know, but 'twas some ancient king,
Made rule that all our maids, when wed, should marry with one ring.

It hath five diamonds on it, and it is a brilliant thing:

I would the wit had been as bright of that same ancient king.

"If parent or if guardian the match would not approve,
He'd but to keep the ring lock'd up, and thus defeat their love.
I fancy 'twas a privilege some household tyrant got,

To wed his daughters where he would, and they, alas! would not.

"It was the wisdom of old times, as later sorrows show,
For parents maids to give away, and not themselves bestow,
Ah, had I liv'd an age to come, when men shall wiser be!

Such sacrifice of loathing hearts is villany to me.

But once-some generations back-there was a noble maid

Her picture yet emerges like a rose-bloom from the shade,

Who would not wed but where she lov'd: and him she lov'd, she told
To come at drowsy morning-tide, and take the ring of gold.

"Her father, over-night, she dos'd with winning looks and wine;
I should have smil'd, methinks if that her lover had been mine.
Affecting then a girlish whim to rummage up his store,
The casket rare that held the ring she to her chamber bore.

"And surely never dew so sweet fell down at morning tide,
As by a slender silk that morn let down the gentle bride.
Nor ever, better pleas'd the sun cast off night's sable shroud:-
It is remember'd yet, that morn he rose without a cloud.

“That maiden was my ancestor,-most passing beautiful:—
It well was worth a risk of life, so fair a flow'r to cull.
But mirth disarm'd vexation much; and they, most mortified,
For smiling could not bite their lips, and so forgot to chide.

66

Nay, nay, no tricks like that again!-Earl Simon, not too fast!-
For, with the story I have told, the chance itself is past.

Or if it were not, sure I am Duke John would ne'er forgive:-
Were you to take the casket, he'd pursue you while you live.

"Besides, it's hidden in the earth;-deep down some mine profound:
This cold High Peak of Derbyshire, you know, is cavern'd ground.
Stamp on it, and it hollow sounds.--It's surface is a skin
That covers up an empty drum, with crypts and caves within.

"Afraid lest we should copy my great ancestor's design,
Duke John himself, alone, has hid the ring within a mine.-
I saw him, from my lattice, with a torch, at midnight steal:-

I had been praying late to God to shield my heart from ill!"

"And God, in mercy, shield thee from all ills thy heart may dread !"
The Earl exclaimed; "and point His rays of glory on thy head.
And prosper my poor enterprise ;--for down that mine I'll dive,
And eitherfi nd the wedding-ring, or come not out alive!

"For if, by chance, or destiny, I may not marry thee,
The darkness of the rocks and these blind eyes would best agree.
My soul would grope in sunshine ;-I should stumble on a plain;
And though an angel bent to me, I'd ne'er look up again!"

V.

Things behind the Master's back—Earl Simon in a High Peak Mine-A Demon, or a Dream.

Earl Simon's hounds about his gate down-ear'd and wistful cry:
The servants cuff them more of late, because the Earl's not by.
In kennel coil'd at night, they dream.-Mayhap of him they dream;
And in sleep-fancy fight for him, or drag him from a stream.

When will the Earl come back again? The hounds are growing thin;
They know not half the care they knew when their good lord was in.
The knaves who carry napkins here, and dress in parrot cloth,
To feed themselves are prompt enough, but dog-wards something loth.
June.-LXXVII. NO. CCCVI.

M