served inviolate his obligation. All this business being settled, I returned to the apartment of poor Mrs. Littledale, inwardly rejoicing that I had been instrumental in breaking off a connection between her husband and her cousin, that must have proved a subject of great pain to her. I had even extorted from that gentleman a short note to Miss Clara, which ran as follows:

"Circumstances have compelled me, dear Clara, to say, that if you value my future peace and reputation, both endangered by our present intercourse, you will immediately set off on a tour through the continent, and endeavour to forget that we have ever met. Assure yourself that the greatest care shall be taken of one most dear to both. Your sincere friend, "GEORGE LITTLEDALE." P. S.-" Enquire not into reasons; I am on the brink of a precipice, your refusal will push me off."

and

I had ascertained that this immaculate young lady was then on a visit at the house of Dr. C., having there her own carriage and servants. I was determined to take the note of Mr. Littledale to her myself, and explain to her most fully, if necessary, the great chance there was for their all being indicted for child-murder, if she did not decamp without loss of time.

Seated in an elegant undress, I found Miss Clara Fancourt quite at her ease, and surrounded with every luxury. She had a harp and piano, and was embroidering a pair of gentleman's slippers when I entered. She turned pale as she motioned me to a seat, and I handed her the note without speaking a word.

How shall I describe the tearing scene that followed? She fell into hysteric fits, one after another; and as I had no intention of seeing her die in the midst of her transgressions, I desired that Dr. C. himself should be called in to prescribe for her.

She swore "by the God who made her, that she never would give up her beloved Littledale. That he was dearer to her than life or fame. That she would make him do her justice, and live with her in another kingdom. That she had a right to him, and never would relinquish him to her milk-and-water cousin, his wife." In short, she was a perfect mad woman, and only when she was made to understand my fixed determination to probe the affair to the bottom, if she obliged me to do it, and that both she and her paramour would be committed to prison without fail, to take their trial for murder, did she listen to reason.

I thought I perceived that Dr. C. used many terms of endearment towards his fair and fortuned guest. During this scene I heard him whisper hope and consolation to her in not very ambiguous terms. He conjured her to be comforted; told her of the beauties of Italy, and how soon she would forget the changing attachment of "a married man," and he hinted to her "what a much better choice she might have made." Miss Clara Fancourt was very soon consoled, for before another week was over, she had conferred herself and her thirty thousand pounds upon Dr. C., and had embarked with him for the continent. But I must retrogade a little, and return to the house of my patient, on the same day after I had delivered my note to the future Mrs. C.

The long successive fits Miss Fancourt had indulged in, made my stay from home longer than I had expected; so I found Mrs. Littledale very

impatient for my return, as the child had been crying very violently, and no one knew what to do with it; indeed, if the truth must be told, all the upper female servants in the house seemed to have more than a suspicion that it had no legal right to assistance there. They had been keen observers; and an interpretation had been put, no doubt, upon the conduct of Mrs. Forest, the late nurse. With regard to that of Clara Fancourt, there could be but one opinion; so they had put all these matters together with much ingenuity, and arrived pretty accurately at the truth; so there had not been much sympathy shown to the poor little brown babe, who had been thrust in so surreptitiously into the place of the other. They looked unutterable things, and I had much difficulty in keeping them to their broad hints, and preventing them from speaking

out.

"I am so glad you are come back," said the feeble Mrs. Littledale, almost in a tone of reproach, "I can do nothing for my poor little girl myself; and I am sure Mercer does not understand how to manage so young a baby: indeed she must have a proper nurse, a mother-nurse I mean, or I shall lose her in reality."

"It shall be attended to immediately," I answered: "believe me nothing but the most important business could have taken me out at this juncture, and I have been detained longer than I imagined."

"Poor little thing!" continued the lady; "I do not know how it is, but she seems sadly neglected amongst us all-and a girl too, which I have so longed for. Does she thrive, Mrs. Griffiths? Let me look at her? I will, indeed."

"She is full twice the size, Madam, she was when you saw her last," said I, finding I could no longer frame excuses for preventing the lady from gazing on her supposed offspring : " and somehow or other I think she does not seem so fair as when she was born,” I added.

There must have been a slight hesitation in my manner, as I said this, for truth can never be accurately counterfeited to the nice perception of a mother's instinct. It struck discordantly upon her ear, and when I handed to her the poor infant, after feeding and quieting her, Mrs. Littledale looked up enquiringly into my face; but the lids or curtains Nature has provided us all to conceal the expression of the eyes, as well as to guard them during the night, were fortunately down, so she could gather nothing fresh from them. She meekly took the infant in her arms and imprinted a kiss of Faith upon its little forehead.

"Oh! how altered is my child!" ejaculated the poor lady, fixing her gaze upon it. "How swollen and dark-coloured are her cheeks! How very plain she has become! I fancied she had a small delicate nose and a complexion like alabaster. Her eyes too! Why, Mrs. Griffiths, they are changed from dark blue to large black eyes; and, mercy on me! what eyebrows, thick as a man's; and, O heavens! you never told me this before, she has an immense claret-mark all over her neck and bosom."

"Children's eyes vary so in colour," cried I, "that I never know how they will turn out from seeing them at first. As for the mark, it is not likely I should have mentioned that to you, when your life hung upon a thread: but, I do assure you, a great portion of this deep purple stain will wear out; especially if I rub it every day with brandy, which will stimulate the circulation. She has, you must own, Madam, most beautiful eyes."

"Ah! those eyes!" murmured the gentle creature, deeply sighing, "they resemble, it seems to me, my cousin Clara's."

"I think there is a slight family resemblance," said I, "but the mouth is like Mr. Littledale's. Miss Fancourt, I hear, is going to be inarried soon (but this was only a shrewd guess of mine) to Dr. C-."

"Is that possible ?" exclaimed the lady, brightening up, and giving me back the baby, but without kissing it again, "I own that I should be glad to see Clara well married:" and she fell into a fit of deep musing.

“Mrs. Griffiths," at length, she said, "you know not how much I am perplexed, by a sort of dream-like remembrance, similar to some of those that gleam over our minds at different parts of our lives, as if we had been in another state of existence. I have some such vague recollection, that during my fever, I heard a bustle in the room, and some one say, "It's all over the baby is dead;" and then I saw it, stiff and cold ; I am sure I did see it, placed for a moment upon that table, and—no! I cannot say who they were, but there were two or three persons, whispering together in a corner, and I know, I felt, that my little girl was taken for ever from me."

So pathetic were these tones, and so allied to truth were these supposed visions of the lady, that I could scarcely refrain from tears, and would not answer her, lest I should betray my emotions.

"Do you think the infant will live?" at length Mrs. Littledale inquired, but the coldness of her manner surprised me. I fancied she had settled it in her own mind that the baby was none of hers, and that she had not yet determined as to how she should act concerning it.

Nothing more passed worthy of notice during the following week, only that humanity made us provide the little unconscious intruder with proper nourishment, when, a note was brought to Mrs. Littledale, from her cousin Clara. When she saw the hand-writing, she seemed much agitated, and desired me to read it, as her eyes, she said, “ were still extremely weak."

I

copy

this note from the original, which I was desired to keep :"Dear Elizabeth,

"You have often taxed me with being too fond of your husband: tomorrow I shall have one of my own, so I hope you will have no more jealous whims on my account. Dr. C- and myself set off from the church-door for Italy. I hope you and your little girl (you see I know its sex), are doing well. It is of no use my sending my love to Littledale, for you would not present it.

"Your's affectionately,

"CLARA FANCOURT."

"What a heartless, hardened wretch it is !" exclaimed I, indignation throwing me completely off my guard; "I wish the bridegroom joy of his bargain."

"I can dissemble no longer," cried Mrs. Littledale, "for I see you know all about it: she has used me very ill, but she is my nearest relative, and if I cannot behave with some charity towards her, how can I expect the world can. My dear Mrs. Griffiths, I cannot be imposed on; that poor little infant is not mine, God has taken my sweet blossom

away I know. I saw her dead, and felt the pang of parting with her though they thought me, and I suppose I was, delirious. I should be deemed no competent witness in a court of law, I dare say, in this affair; but I am a witness to myself, and all the arguments in the world would not destroy the evidence."

I held down my head, and said nothing; Mrs. Littledale continued. "That little innocent, when it gazed in my face the other day, appealed, with mute eloquence, to all the better part of my being; she has been thrown upon my protection: she is the child of my husband, and of my nearest female relation. I will not abandon her, and if I can help it, I will never show the least consciousness to my poor, still tenderlybeloved George, that I know any thing of this scheme they have all thought proper to play off upon me, no doubt to screen Clara from obloquy and loss of reputation. She shall not suffer from my want of discretion."

66

Angelic forbearance!" I exclaimed, passionately: "this is indeed the very perfection of charity."

I forgot to mention that Mr. Littledale, in defiance of his contract with me, actually called the very next day after he had made it, at the house of Dr. C-, and sent in his card to Miss Clara Fancourt, who, with that caprice, and impudence, with which ladies of her class are generally well stocked, having just accepted the offer of the not over-nice physician, to become her husband, thought it good taste to send a mere verbal reply to the morning visitor, simply saying, "She was sorry she could not see Mr. Littledale, for she was at that moment particularly engaged." I was thus relieved from my obligation to keep his secret.

Perhaps this not over-flattering conduct in his inamorata did more to reform Mr. Littledale than the delicate and most adınirable treatment of his wife. Some men are made up of gross materials, however beautiful and perfect may be their exteriors. This one was connected by the most endearing ties, with an angel of light, and yet he wandered from her to form an intimacy with a fiend.

There is now living in a very elegant house, near Kew Gardens, a gentleman and lady, with three children, or rather a grown-up family of three. They are considered to be a most happy couple, and he pays the most devoted attention to her; the two young men are, like their parents, exceedingly handsome; the elder one has entered the army, the other is to go into the church. The daughter, who is just sixteen, and is named Elizabeth, does not partake of the beauty of her brothers; she is short of stature, and, like the celebrated Sappho, has a brown complexion, and, like her also is all enthusiasm and genius. She is most devotedly attached to "her beloved mamma," and lately nursed her through a long illness, with such exemplary tenderness, and unwearied patience, that I heard that sweet lady say, as I called upon her a short time after her recovery, My dear Mrs. Griffiths, I believe it would break my heart if that dear affectionate girl were told that she is not, in verity and truth, my own dear daughter; I could not have loved the other better."

66

I lately read the following notice in a morning paper:-" Died at Rome, of an intermittent fever, the lady of Dr. C-, M.D. She has left an attached husband and a large family to bewail her loss."

And now, my most beloved public, farewell for a season; do not, amidst brighter and better narrations, constantly teeming from the press, forget the claims I hold upon your affections; do not allow the "Remembrances of your Monthly Nurse," to be totally effaced from your memory. I resign myself now into the open arms, for a brief period, of my great easy-chair, and I will dream sometimes of you.

CENSUS OF FOREIGN LITERATURE.

THE MODERN LITERATURE OF FRANCE.

Concluded from page 577.

THEN why theorise? Because of that which enables us to demand Why? The child's why is the dawn of the man's reason. Thus it is: -for all things we require a reason, by reason of the Reason within

us.

But the Reason within us, though a cause in itself, and productive of the effects for which a reason is demanded, is not an adequate cause. A sense of power not ours, and belonging to another being opposes the pure exercise of reason as the sole motive power, and calls the reason out of itself to act upon an existence not its own, and upon which therefore it can give no practical decision, but au contraire concludes speculatively. In a word it theorises.

The first French Revolution was altogether a theorising. The action of mind on matter-asserting of the latter what was only true of the former, and vice versa. By matter we mean the whole amount of what is contained in the field of nature—that is, comprehended within time and space-and therefore subject to necessity, not willingly, for it has no will, by reason of Him who has subjected the same in hope. True this, whether of nature, inanimate, animate, or human! Yet for this nature some of the earliest revolutionary writers demanded political liberty-at the same time another class of writers were denying liberty to human will, upon the notable grounds too of the universality of the law of necessity -both writers however, agreeing, that nothing was, save and except Matter; such matter, it being granted, could, under certain conditions feel as well as be felt.

All this was too absurd and self-contradictory to stand the wear and tug of civil warfare, in which all the moral elements of society were thrown into commotion. Consider the spectacle of a whole people denying moral liberty, and contending for natural liberty! How anomalous in all its aspects!-yet such is theory-which, in all cases, is mind attributing its own qualities to matter, and those of matter to itself. Whenever it speaks of and from itself alone, it never theorises-all such affirmations are of the most practical character, though vulgarly ranged in the category of speculation. Of all vulgar errors, none is more fatal than this.