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The Mechanical Difficulties incident to the Perform-, Wild Flowers of March, 144; of June, 302

ance of Music-306 The Royal Pardon Vindicated—Mr. Barber's Case WORK-by AIGUILLETTE:---156

Antique Lace Collar, 259 The Story of Angelique (a True Incident)-by i Antique Lace for Gilet, 205 Geraldine E. Jewsbury--225

Antique Point Collar, 93 The Tribes of the North-east Frontier — by an

Crochet Curtains. 92
Officer's Wife-241

Crochet Lace, 204
The Woman of the Writers-by Mary Cowden' Crochet Shoes for a Child, 316
Clarke-80

Deep Point Lace, for Slooves, &c., 149
Turner, J. M. W., Notice of (with Portrait), 330 Edging in Frivolité, 258
THE GARDEN:-January, 46; February, 110;

Embroidered Braces, 94

Embroidered Note-case, 257 March, 165; April, 222; May, 276; June, 335

Gilet in Autique Point, 205 THE TOILETTE:- Costume for January, 55 ; Feb

Handkerchief Border in Antiquc Point, 200 ruary, 111; March, 167; April, 223 ; May, 278; 1 Infant's Shoe, 150 June, 333

Knitted Mitten, with Cuff, 38 THE CHILD'S CORNER:

Long Purse, in Crochet, 201
Annie's Thoughts-by Hannah Clay-36

Mandarin Sleeve and Collar, 318
Little Ann-by Jane M. Winnard-146, 198 ; Parisian Purse, 317
The Deformed Boy-by Hannah Clay-312 Passion-flower Border, 151
The Lame-footed Dog-by Miss M. Watson--32 Patchwork Cushion, 36
The New Baby-by Hannah Clay-89

Point Lace Lappet, 39
The Pet Chicken-by Hannah Clay_254

Point D'Oyley, 315

Sleeve, in Broderie Anglaiso, 95 What's in a Name? 45

Smoking Cap, 152

POETRY.

A Bugle-call from a Volunteer Rifleman--by Mar- Scandal in Fairy-land-by Charles H. Hitchingstin F. Tupper--306

231
Address to Frenchmen, on the Encroachment of Song-by Ada Trevanion-314

Louis Napoleon on their Liberties—by the Hon. Song—by Walter Weldon-288
Julia A. Maynard-287

Song-by Robert H. Brown—196

Sonnets--by Calder Campbell-41, 86. Calvin's Death-bed-by the Hon. Julia A. Maynard Sonnet-by Dora Greenwell-89 -27

Stanzas-by Ada Trevanion-118 Days Gone-by Mrs. White-27

Stars on a frosty Night-by Ada Trevanion--68 Day- by Elizabeth Leathes--210

The Bee and the Maiden-248

The Christmas Tree-by Maria Norris--10 Eros and Anteros-by Charles H. Hitchings-68

The Lonely Chamber-by Robert H. Brown-288 Paith's Vigil-by Charles H. Hitchings-288

The Mingled Yarn-by Charles H. Hitchings-10 Flower-divination-by W. C. Bennett-40

| The Mirror in the Hall-oby Ada Trevanion-27

The Musician--by Maria Norris-231 Good Alice-by Maria Norris-84

The Seacons, 85 Hcart-echoes-by Fritz-288

The Spirit of Spring-by E. A. Lilwall-235 Home-by Albert Taylor-173

The Sunny Side-by Mrs. Abdy-186

The Tongue of Fire-by Mrs. Newton CroslandHope-by George W. Bennett-11

141 I mourn for thee, sweet Josephine-by 1*****_

The Truant Schoolboys of Thessaly-by D.-256

The Two Rings-by M. M. P-11 Life's Koh-i-noor-by J. J. Reynolds-287

The Voyage of the Fancies--by Charles H. HitchLines-by W. C. Bennett-178

ings-89 London-by Francis Bennoch-305

The Wayside Brook-by Mrs. Abdy—231 Love's Ideal-by Fritz – 249

The Widow (illustrative of the Plate), 43 My Cottage Home-by Lizzie W.-186

! The Wish-by Percie-117

! The Young Poet's Lament-by Albert Taylor-118 Nature's Lesson-by Ada Trevanion-235

To the Friend of my Heart-by Alicia Jane O'Neill Old Christmas-by Mrs. Newton Crosland-40

-68 Old Friends with New Faces-by Mrs. Abdy-11 Woman-by A. S.-11

Printed by Rogerson & Tusford, 218, strand, Loudon.

TIIE NEW

MONTHLY BELLE ASSEMBLÉE,

INCORPORATED WITII

THE LADIES' COMPANION.

JANUARY, 1852.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF LAURA STUDLEG H.

BY MRS. DAVID OGILVY.
Author of " Traditions of Tuscany," " Highland Minstrelsy,Sc., &-c.
Chap. I.

| but she was of a cold disposition, and there was
shame not to be endured on my face-the fact of

its being actually ugly. Adelicia and Millicent “ Fain would I climb, but that I fear to fall." were both like herself, handsome; and my “ If thy heart fail thee, do not climb at all.”

mother resented as an indignity to her race, and

to the noble blood of all the Effinghams, that I Well would it have been for me had such should resemble my father's family-the rich, but fears assailed me on the first budding of my homely Studleghs, of Studlegh Hall, Cheshire, aspirations; yet then I should have been a and the great firm of Studlegh, Counterpoint, cautious babe—for I was little beyond infancy and Co., Leadenliall-street, London. when the dream awoke in my soul to become My father was a well-meaning, quiet, selffamous. I cannot remember the time when I complacent little inan; whose great glories in could not read. There was indeed some talking life were the rank of his lady's family, and the among my elders of teaching me according to wealth of his own. His had been a marriage of a newly-invented method ; but when they came convenience, arranged entirely by his father. to examine me for tuition they found I had This worthy old gentleman, who had bought a already picked up a perfect knowledge of reading, large property and land on the banks of the from overhearing my sister's lessons while I Mersey, and had built thereon a mansion of the played about the school-room; I was not then Elizabethan, George-the-Thirdean styles ingethree years old. The commendations lavished niously commingled, which he had lovingly on my“ great cleverness" were the first stimu- christened Studlegh Hall, after his own name, lants bestowed on ambition. I was soon not a was annoyed by finding himself sneered down reader, but a devourer of books. All kinds, by the “ good old Cheshire families," who were however unsuitable they might seem to a child's as plentiful around him as the good old Cheshire taste, were eagerly welcomed; and I was alter- cheeses. To remedy this misfortune he made nately praised and ridiculed for my absorbing proposals for his son to the proud, poor house passion. I did not then care for ridicule: po- of Effingham; and Lady Arabella, with countliteness in a company of strangers was forgotten less quarterings, consented to become the bride if Fate placed me near the book-stand. I could of John Studlegh, with countless hundreds. read by snatches in the pauses of a quadrille, or The young merchant was too busy to care much steal from a game of romps to finish Macbeth about his wedlock; he saw his intended was in the shadow of some friendly window-curtain. elegant, beautiful, and high bred, and he conI was not a happy child; I had those varying cluded that so soft-spoken a lady must be sweet spirits and passionate gusty impulses which i tempered. His vanity was flattered by the have been said to be characteristics of genius. loftiness of her connexions, and he gave his wife Unluckily I read such a remark in a trashy carte blanche for the expenditure necessary for biography of a wicked gieat man (I forget who, her station in society. My mother's was not it is so very long ago); and it was too self- obtrusive pride; it was rather the under-current flattering a theory for me not to adopt it as a of all she said, thought, and did. She made no creed. I had elder sisters-showy, handsome, dash in the world; she lived quietly, but with a accomplished girls; half-a-dozen brothers, dash- costly elegance, whose perfect keeping gare you ing and self-sufficient; and a mother of high the impression of refinement rather than of rank and petty fortune, who was the proudest riches. She employed the most expensive off-shoot of aristocracy I ever met in all my tradespeople; she lived in the most expensivá adventures. I do not say this unfilially-I part of London when she spent the season would have loved my mother with the fervour, there; her equipage was symmetrical in its apof a naturally warm heart had she permitted me; pointments; her dress and that of her children

siin ile, but of the inist co:tly materials. It is of rose-water, and that my hands were ruined well she is not alive now; it would be an hourly by my never wearing gloves. But in process of annoyance to her to see the shops filled with time came a pet, whom one and all agreed in imitations. Nothing moved her supine placidity idolizing: this was the infant Celia, the tenth to anger like the sight of imitation-lace upon and last of my mother's numerous family. She the persons of her daughters. Adelicia and was exquisitely beautiful from her birth; gentle, Millicent seldom offended in this particular; serene, the soul of harmonious graces. She they preferred running up a long bill (which seemed to me a fairy :I dreamed of her-I spent they at some auspicious moment coaxed my my idle thoughts in building for her the loveliest father to pay) rather than irritating Lady Ara- Chateaux en Espagne- I renounced for her my bella by mock Mechlin or Valenciennes. It was own ambitious projects-I forgot for a little poor I who was always in scrapes; who scorned while that I had resolved to be greater than the idea of a debt, and yet had all a maiden's Milton! love of finery, and fancied my plaiu person ad. But I was so awkward and so careless that vantageously set off by the cheap triminings, I never was allowed to come near her. I did which, to a cursory observer, looked so showy. not dare to go into the nursery, for Lady Ara

“I am ashamed of you, Laura," said my bella declared I always slainmed the doors; the mother. “You are always so Quixotic about nurse shuddered at my request to dandle the being truthful in season and out of season, and baby; and as she grew older the child was told yet you can wear what is a deceitful sham." to follow the example of Adelicia or Millicent,

“Well, mamma,” replied I, “all dress is a and to avoid that of Laura. These things made sham, more or less, and the only difference is in me often moody. I used to run into a dark part the degree; besides, I think it a less outrage on of the woods, that I might get into a passion by hunesty to wear pretence Mechlin than to flaunt myself, uncontrolled and unsoothed. I was in in unpaid magnificence."

the predicament which befals so many childrenMy sisters tossed their heads, but profited by I was not understood. There were germs of my taunts to represent their poverty in such generous feelings, unselfish energy, and indomoving terms, that my mother gave them each mitable perseverance, which, from neglect and twenty pounds for a point-lace veil. As for me, ill-culture, were becoming fitful, wayward, and I wore linen collars and gauze veils ever after, obstinate. The misfortune of a child's being as the cheapest realities to be purchased. misconstrued when he is not in fault is that

There were three brothers, older than myself, another time, when he is really wrong, he will at Eton, whence they came home every vacation, plead the same excuse to himself, and harden shrewd, haughty, extravagant, and yet worldly- | himself against his elders. So it was with me. wise. Effingham, the eldest, was very hand- | I felt, when I was really affectionate, really sell. some, and my mother destined him for the denying, that my ebullitions of feeling or sell. Guards; my father had other intentions, which sacrifice were irksome and unwelcome; and I in the end he fulfilled, to the ruin of us all. The made it an excuse to myself for being wilful and younger ones were my playfellows; they were disobedient-that no one loved me, or careti good-natured, and permitted me, as their senior, whether I did right or wrong, Every one, howto play Lady Paramount, and to invent games ever, acknowledged my talents'; and thus my for their laziness. The reader must not imagine vanity was fostered at the expense of my affecthat although I was a book-worm in-doors I | tions. I perceived that, slighted and unregarded was a pensive child in the open air; no: once as I was in general, when any difficulty arose beyond the house I was the most outrageous of my superior quickness gave me an advantage romps-climbed gates and trees, rode ponies over them all; and they were ready enough to without stirrups, jumped from the top of the come for advice to the Laura whose uncouth hay-stacks, and demeaned myself so hoydenishly manners they at other times despised. But, that I often forgot I was a girl, till the fatal alas! I mistook one household for the world; hour arrived when my hair had to be brushed, and because I was greater than my family I my white frock to be donned, my sash to be thought inyself greater than the mighty men of girded, and my little sunburned, freckled, red- old; and I repeated to myseif, day by day, “I fingered, awkward self to be ushered into the shall live in fame for ever.” The first great dining-room, with the dessert. My father in- event of my youth was the marriage of Adelicia. sisted on keeping up this old-fashioned custom- I well remember the scene, on the day of her he liked the sudden irruption of noisy children, betrothal. Immediately Lord Fitzinterest had after the stiff, stately meal. “My favourite mo- proposed, my father, in the exultation of his ment,” he would say, "is when the footmen turn heart, sent for all his children, to announce the their backs and the children show their faces.” important fact that their sister was going to His boys were his darlings. Round his chair marry a peer. clustered the little knot of velvet coats and white Lord Fitzinterest was really a very agreeable trowsers; and I, as I often said to myself, seemed nonentity, and had a dimn idea of his duties as to belong to nobody. My mother was too much a nobleman. This extraordinary fact may be engaged with my tall young lady sisters and accounted for by his being only the second of their fashionable Parisian governess, to attend his title; and he had not been long enough a to ine; unless she chanced to remark that my lord to discover that he was sent into the world heated face had been washed with soap, instead for no other purpose than to eat, drink, and be merry. He admired Wilberforce, and always Mr. Anson was my first friend. He pitied voted with his charitable measures ; and had me; he saw how clever, and wayward, and unreturned his tenants ten per cent. of their exor- happy I was--that my unregulated passions bitant rents, the last year before his marriage. were preparing misery for me. He asked perN.B. He never repeated this act of munificence mission to take me under his charge. Madeafter Adelicia became Lady Fitzinterest.

moiselle, who was preparing Millicent for her But to return to the scene in the dining-room. first season, was glad to get me off her hands; The boys had come trooping in, the elder ones for now my mother had complained of i

SO from their horses and hounds, the younger bitterly, that thegouvernante imagined it a reflecfrom their cricket, when I stole in as stealthily / tion on her indifference with regard to my manas I could, for I had just torn my last clean ners. But “vraiment, Mademoiselle Laure est frock,

si brusque, elle a tant de fierté.” Lady Arabella “ Where is Laura ?” asked my mother. was offended : “ Enough, Mademoiselle ; no

"Jumping in the saw-pit, near the pond," lady can manage Laura. We will try the answered one of my brothers; "she took offence government of a man.” And a happy trial it at our cricket because the ball hit her shin; and was for me. Mr. Anson induced me to learn she was so angry for us at laughing she jerked Latin; he read to me selections from the best about so funnily with the pain.”

Roman and Greek authors, also from the best “That was not kind,” said Mr. Anson, the English poets. He explained things which had new tutor.

puzzled my young brain for years; he steadied “Oh, dear!" answered the boy, “if girls will my wandering faith, which even at that early play at boys' games they must expect boys' age had been staggered by Hume, comforted by roughness.''

Paley, materialized by Gibbon. To him I carried I heard all this, and, cut to the heart with all my doubts about the wisdom of this mysterishame, and also deeply overcome by the gentle ous world, the sins and sorrows which jostle way in which the tutor had reproached my play- along its crowded paths. Where he could not mates, I felt ready to burst into tears. But the explain, he led me humbly to trust a higher Spirit presence hall was no place for crying; and I than belongs to humanity. To him I complained was endeavouring to steal out as noiselessly as I of the inconsistencies which revolted me; the had stolen in, when the slutter of my torn dress deceits, the meannesses, the ingratitude I saw caught my mother's eye. “Come here, Laura,” | around me. I bestowed on him the extravashe said, " and let me look if you are fit to be gant gratitude of childhood. I felt so much, I seen; I hardly expect it, when I hear where you never even could thank him for his kindness; have been."

but he never seemed to consider me cold, as I murmured some inaudible excuse, and was others did. To him I ventured to give my dazstill hurrying away, when the governess, with zling theories for the amendment of a disordered many exhortations, took hold of ine and led me society. He might smile, but he never sneered ; forward.

he encouraged me in high aims, in lofty pur" Comment ? Mademoiselle Laure! allons, poses. But even to him I did not dare to trust qu'est ce que vous avez fait ? La voici, mi- | my darling hopes, my precious ambition. I ladi.”

| had an undefined idea that his good sense would “La voici" indeed ! my bonnet crushed, my dissolve my airy hopes, and I promised myself gown soiled and torn in most unseemly shreds, I would do something great ere I said anything my hands dirty, and my shoes crusted with of intending to be great. And so I still roamed mud! And at that very moment the door opened, the woods alone, and filled the backs of old and my father, with a pomposity unusual to his letters with scratches of poetry. kindly simplicity, introduced his august son-in For four years Mr. Anson, remained in our law-elect-Lord Fitzinterest.

family; every one of those four seasons was “Take the child away-send her to bed, I spent by my parents in London. Millicent was Mademoiselle," sighed my mother. “We shall not so dashing as Adelicia, and considerable never make a lady of her. I doubt if she can be difficulty was experienced in "settling her.” my child.”

My mother would have a nobleman; my father Mademoiselle dragged me unresistingly away; would have a rich man; and Millicent herself not without her murmuring something in Ade- would have a handsome man. The three conlicia's ear about ce bel fiancé. She had a pro- joined were hard to find. Millicent withered ere phetic eye towards securing a good post in La her fourth season, and a leader of fashion proBaronne's establishment.

| nounced her passée. This was alarming. Lady I did not see my noble brother-in-law for Arabella, to whom the unfavourable verdict was many years; for, in consequence of my mis kindly communicated by a dear friend who had demeanours, I was excluded from all participa two disposable nieces on her hands, took enertion in the nuptial festivities. This scene made getic measures to convince Millicent she had no a deep impression on me; I resolved to turn more time for trifling. The poor girl, whose over a new leaf, and “to live cleanly" for the small stock of romance had been flirted away in future. I was just twelve years old ; short and the heartless coquetries of the gay world, consturdy for my years; not pretty, but with a de- / sented to dispose of herself to the highest bidtermined air, which prevented me from being der, and accepted Sir Harriman Hauton--a insignificant in appearance.

general, who had distinguished himself at Seringapatam, who had a handsome estate, a pension, nor talents for business. He was rash without and one arm.

courage, and hasty without diligence. He had an Although I had learned improved manners appearance of genius, which was in reality only from my gentle tutor, I could not help staring an unsound and shallow quickness; and this was rudely at my sister's betrothed. Millicent was more fatal to his fortunes than if he had been four-and-twenty; he was sixty-five. Yet he was the dullest dolt that ever, with pen on ear, very much attached to her; gave her entirely dangled his legs over a high three-legged stool. her own way; and by his sterling good qualities My father then peaceably disposed of his two won so much upon the by no means unfeeling next sons. One got a writership, the other a disposition of the poor girl, that she was ever a direct appointment to the Bengal Cavalry; and true and attentive wife to him, though he lived there were only left the three little ones, who for ten years, leaving her a widow at the age of were still at Eton. thirty-four. Poor misguided Millicent. She My mother's health never recovered the shock was just the sort of girl who would have been she had received. Perhaps idleness had somehappy, married to a moderately rich, moderately thing to do in her decline, for Celia was too clever man, of her own age; hers was a passive young to make projects about, and she solemnly character, yet capable of having warmth infused sighed “that no man in his senses would marry into it. No one had tried the experiment but such a strange, flighty, plain girl as Laura was.” her husband, and he was not a person to excite I was now seventeen-still short, and still far romantic love. Millicent liked him, and was from a beauty, and too much absorbed in my grateful for his kindness-that was all. She own wild enthusiastic reveries to care what was never had any children, which I always thought thought of me. The cause of Mr. Anson's the bitterest drop in her cup. Perhaps as she leaving us was his reception of the Episcopalian never had them she never missed them ; but I chaplaincy at Inverness; an office of little value, am sure those little suggestions of Almighty love but agreeable in many ways to my gentle, pious would have wakened in her torpid heart the friend. He asked permission, the summer of warm fountains of maternal happiness.

his departure, to take my three youngest brothers A short time previously to Millicent's mar- and myself on a little tour in the Highlands, to riage there had been quite a fracas in the family-| see his future home. My father, who was a domestic hurricane awful to behold. When really well attached to him, readily consented, Effingham left college he was informed by my persuading his widowed sister to accompany us father that he was to take his place in the bank- l as my chaperone. We set out froin Liverpool, house as junior partner. Effingham flatly re- by a sailing vessel, for Glasgow. I had never fused, and was supported in his rebellion by been out of Cheshire, except as a very little my mother. His incensed parent threatened to girl; for of latter years I had not been allowed disinherit him ; he replied angrily. Lady Ara- to go to London with my parents, as they said I bella had a fainting fit; little Celia, who was in the was not fit to be seen in good society. room, fell screaming on her insensible mamma, . I was wild with joy at this em ancipation ; but crying out on “naughty papa who had killed when the next morning I came on deck, and her.” Mr. Studlegh ordered her out of the found we were standing far out from land, having room, and his son out of the house.

sailed at midnight, when I saw the bounding Lady Arabella kept her bed some days; she white waves, and felt the fresh breeze, and was really ill from the effects of this agitation. heard the rejoicing waters, the novelty and Mr. Siudlegh did not attempt a reconciliation. grandeur so overpowered my untravelled senses, He had so adored his firm--the fountain of his that I burst into a wild fit of weeping. When wealth, the prop of his honours--that he had I at last raised my eyes, I saw a young man was expected raptures in the youth whom he had | regarding me attentively. He was decidedly condescended to name his successor in this plain, like myself; I think that was the reason great and onerous situation. He was enraged I took a fancy to him at once. He was not at his son's contumacious clairn of a cornetcy in even intellectual-looking-he had not the “ high the Guards--"a place to spend money, not to white forehead," nor the “large dark eyes," nor make it; and after my keeping my plans secret the “ classically curved mouth” that appertain till now, to be a pleasant surprise to them all!" by right to all heroes of young lady romance. The good merchant felt himself seriously He was a very ordinary-looking youth-in fact, aggrieved ; and on learning that his wife was on the wrong side of beauty, had not his expresmaking secret overtures for the purchase of her sion, when he smiled, been full of the most son's commission, he wrathfully proceeded to earnest, kindly eloquence that looks ever posa the bankers on whom he had given her a credit sessed. And thus he smiled on me when he account, and stopped all further supplies. caught my sudden half-ashamed glance. But I

This energetic measure was effeciual: Lady was too unsophisticated to be easily abashed, Arabella was the last person to exist without and replied with the quick impulse of my nature money, and Effingham found the threat of to that wordless but most meaning smile. disinheritance too near probability to be lightly “You think me very foolish for crying at first heeded. He returned after a disappearance of sight of the sea, I daresay; but is it not true a fortnight, made his submission, and was ad- that all the greatest and most glorious things in mitted junior partner of the firm. Woe worth nature make the human heart melancholy. . One the day he entered it! He had neither taste feels self-reproachful that one cannot admire

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