THE BREEZY HILLS FOR ME. BY MRS. ABDY. FROM hill to hill I love to tread Gay scenes of festal glee; Fair nature's smiles surpass them all,— The breezy hills for me! How fresh, how pure, the balmy air! To busier haunts again. Bright images within my mind Are springing glad and free; Life's weary cares seem left behind,— The breezy hills for me! And thoughts of deeper, better worth, Here, may my heart oft mount from earth To commune with the skies. Here, in Thy works, O Lord of Power, Thy bounteous grace I see; Here, may I duly seek Thee more,- THE MAN MONSTER. BY CORNELIUS COLVILLE. DEVONSHIRE STREET, Queen square, is rather a quiet, insignificant, and unobtrusive street. It is not much of a thoroughfare, and sufficiently retired to harmonize with the feelings and the dispositions of the most contemplative and sedate. Why an individual of a notoriously wicked character, violent and uncontrollable passions, should take up his residence in such a street, is a mystery extremely difficult to solve. No. - is a respectable looking house, indeed, one of the most respectable in the street. The shutters, and the spouts, and the door, are painted once every year,-the brass-plate and the bell-handle are rubbed and scrubbed every morning, till they almost appear to be on fire,-the windows are cleaned twice a week, with such scrupulous care, that you can never detect a speck upon them -the blinds are washed at least once a month-the steps are pipe-clayed every morning-the front is carefully swept by the little, red-haired maiden, before any of the inmates have risen from their beds. In short, cleanliness, neatness, and respectability, seem to be the chief characteristics of the house. Why a person of so depraved a mind,-so maliciously disposed,-a man monster, in a word, should have pitched upon this genteel and decent looking dwelling-house for his place of habitation, is utterly beyond the power of the human imagination to conceive. Why did he not go somewhere else? Why did he not select a neighbourhood that assimilated more with his own peculiar temper and idiosyncracy? Had he an antipathy to the street and its inhabitants, and had he come there and taken apartments in the lodging-house of a respectable gentlewoman, for the express purpose of annoying them with his odious and hateful presence ? If he had no such intention, his conduct, to say the least of it, was most strange and inexplicable. London consisted of a few other streets, besides Devonshire streetthere was a strong presumption in favour of there being some houses in it, unoccupied; there was a probability, that more than one lodging-house-keeper had apartments to let; then why, THE BREEZY HILLS FOR ME. BY MRS. ABDY. FROM hill to hill I love to tread Gay scenes of festal glee; Fair nature's smiles surpass them all, The breezy hills for me! How fresh, how pure, the balmy air! To busier haunts again. Bright images within my mind Are springing glad and free; Life's weary cares seem left behind,— And thoughts of deeper, better worth, Here, may my heart oft mount from earth To commune with the skies. Here, in Thy works, O Lord of Power, Thy bounteous grace I see; Here, may I duly seek Thee more,— THE MAN MONSTER. BY CORNELIUS COLVILLE. DEVONSHIRE STREET, Queen square, is rather a quiet, insignificant, and unobtrusive street. It is not much of a thoroughfare, and sufficiently retired to harmonize with the feelings and the dispositions of the most contemplative and sedate. Why an individual of a notoriously wicked character, violent and uncontrollable passions, should take up his residence in such a street, is a mystery extremely difficult to solve. No. — is a respectable looking house, indeed, one of the most respectable in the street. The shutters, and the spouts, and the door, are painted once every year,-the brass-plate and the bell-handle are rubbed and scrubbed every morning, till they almost appear to be on fire, the windows are cleaned twice a week, with such scrupulous care, that you can never detect a speck upon them -the blinds are washed at least once a month-the steps are pipe-clayed every morning-the front is carefully swept by the little, red-haired maiden, before any of the inmates have risen from their beds. In short, cleanliness, neatness, and respectability, seem to be the chief characteristics of the house. Why a person of so depraved a mind,-so maliciously disposed,—a man monster, in a word, should have pitched upon this genteel and decent looking dwelling-house for his place of habitation, is utterly beyond the power of the human imagination to conceive. Why did he not go somewhere else? Why did he not select a neighbourhood that assimilated more with his own peculiar temper and idiosyncracy? Had he an antipathy to the street and its inhabitants, and had he come there and taken apartments in the lodging-house of a respectable gentlewoman, for the express purpose of annoying them with his odious and hateful presence? If he had no such intention, his conduct, to say the least of it, was most strange and inexplicable. London consisted of a few other streets, besides Devonshire streetthere was a strong presumption in favour of there being some houses in it, unoccupied; there was a probability, that more than one lodging-house-keeper had apartments to let; then why, in the name of all that is marvellous, had this abominable and wicked man not sought shelter in some other locality? There are gossips in every street. There were gossips in Devonshire street. In the foregoing paragraph, we have embodied a few of their sentiments and opinions upon the subject under consideration. The name of the lady who kept the lodging-house we have alluded to, was Mrs. Sibble, as any lady or gentleman who took the pains of looking at the brass-plate upon the door, might readily have perceived. She was a respectable woman, and kept herself a good deal aloof from those who delighted in scandal and evil speaking: hence there were two or three good-natured people, as there always are in such cases, who insidiously endeavoured to do herself and her lodging-house an injury. A certain crab-faced lady, of the name of Chatterly, who lived a few doors lower down on the same side of the street, was one of these charitable persons, and it was at her house, one Sunday afternoon, just after she had returned from hearing the Rev. Mr. Saintly at the Methodist chapel, that she and two other middle-aged ladies indulged in the conversation which we here faithfully record for the edification of our readers. "It's a disgrace to the neighbourhood," said Mrs. Twaddle, a tallow-faced, sharp-featured little woman, very shabbily dressed. "It's shocking to think of," chimed in Mrs. Croaker, a melancholy-looking lady, who had centred all her hopes of happiness in a future state of existence. "I never did know a woman who had less regard for herself, or the character of her house," observed Mrs. Chatterly. "She ought to be told of it," said Mrs. Twaddle. "She shall be told of it, ma'am," replied Mrs. Chatterly. "I'll tell her myself, if nobody will," said Mrs. Croaker. "Only to think," remarked Mrs. Chatterly, "of her taking such a wretch into a decent lodging-house!" "I never did" began Mrs. Croaker. "Nobody never did, ma'am, nobody," interposed Mrs. Twad dle. "Oh, it's too bad!" said Mrs. Chatterly; "I never know'd o' such a monster." "How I pity his poor wife!" drawled out Mrs. Croaker; "if I was her, before I would live with such a man, I would drown'd myself, throw myself off the monument, or-but I really don't know what I wouldn't do." "I feel for her, poor thing," observed Mrs. Chatterly; "his tongue is always a-going-always a-calling her the most horrid names.' "I declare to you," said Mrs. Twaddle, "as I sat at our parlour-window, yesterday morning, I didn't see less than six |
