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THE SONS,

A FRAGMENT FROM LIFE.

I had passed the gate that marked the boundary of my friend's estate, and entered the high road which wound through the little village, whither I was bending my steps to attend the solemn service of the day. It was Sunday, and a more than usually serene morning for the season. The bright beams of the sun had already chased away every cloud that threatened to obscure the clear azure of the firmament, whilst the drooping plants still suffering from the storm of the preceding night, again smiled under its renovating influence, and raised their leafy verdure in silent adoration of the Guardian Power who had shielded them from the midnight blast, and bid them live to adorn that day he had consecrated to himself. "And shall we," said I," dare to repine at the wisdom of the Omnipotent, who tempers the blast to the shorn lamb,' and afflicts man but for his future happiness, making the eye which wept yesterday, find abundant cause for rejoicing to-day! Never should we abandon ourselves to the bitterness of despair, for, of a truth, the time will come, when the most wretched of the sons of men shall lift up their voices in songs of joy, even as the grass which yields under the pressure of our feet but to rise again in renewed beauty." As these ideas occurred to my mind, I observed before me a miserable object supporting himself on crutches, who, as he slowly and heavily dragged his enfeebled frame forwards, frequently stopped to recruit his strength, and to gaze on the lovely prospect around. As I drew near, I perceived he was a youth scarcely turned of twenty, with a pleasing and rather handsome countenance; his dress was clean and decent, but his figure was dreadfully emaciated, and one leg was reduced almost to nothing. I was struck with his appearance, and though he solicited not relief, but rather by his mournful gestures seemed to claim the pity of the passing travelier, I ventured to enquire into the cause of his misfortune, and learned that he had been in the service of a manufacturer, and that, a few days since, his leg having been crushed by one of the machines, rendered him wholly

"Poor

incompetent for future labour; he was therefore hastening with all the speed his crippled state would allow, to a seaport at some distance, where his mother resided in tolerably easy circumstances, that through her assistance he might be enabled to procure eminent medical advice, or at least have the satisfaction of seeing her before he died. A flash of pleasure irradiated his features as he told me he expected a coach passing every instant, when he hoped the coachman would give him a cast to the next town. wretch!" though I, as I slipped a trifle into his hand, "would that some of the sons and daughters of luxury could behold thy cheerful acquiescence with this hard decree of Providence! surely the fleeting vanities for which they sigh would then lose half the value they now possess, and the trifling evils they exalt into miseries would sink abashed at their own insignificance before the real calamities of this youthful sufferer?"

Reflecting on the numerous diseases to which the human frame is subject, I strolled leisurely into the church-yard, where my attention was directed towards a row of claybuilt cottages, nearly opposite to the place I stood; from one of the meanest issued a young man whose habiliments bespoke him of a superior class to the generality of the villagers he alternately went from door to door, conversing a few moments with each family, and apparently bidding them farewell, as now and then a hearty shake of the band and some rough, but cordial, expressions indicated; after going in this manner to all the neighbouring cottages, he returned to the one he had first quitted, closing the door after him. The distant rumbling of wheels was now heard ; the merry notes of the bugle echoed in the breeze, and at length the coach passed, heavily laden, and stopped at the little public house at the further end of the village, for the passengers to take some refreshment; immediately, some of the inhabitants followed, bearing with officious zeal several articles of luggage; and lastly, the young man appeared, as he left the cottage, dashing away a tear which strayed down his cheek; he walked hastily onwards, as if fearful of looking back or betraying some unbidden emotion, but I saw him more than once lift his handkerchief to his eyes, before a projecting angle hid him from my sight, and

it was not till then that I observed an aged man, bent nearly double with years and infirmities, standing in an attitude of deep and fixed attention, gazing after the departing youth, one moment straining his eager eyes to take a last look, the next passing the back of his hand across them, to disperse perhaps the mists of age, or, it might be, the tears of affectionate regret. As the curve of the path obscured the youth from observation, the old man advanced more into the middle of the road, still bending forward with anxious solicitude, till, unable to command his feelings, he shook back the silvered locks which shaded his venerable brow, and leaning on his stick, slowly directed his steps towards the coach. My curiosity being excited, I followed him, and being younger and more agile, reached the place long before the loitering peasant, who, I was informed by one of the neighbours, was the father of the young man, who by dint of industry had gained a comfortable situation and proved a kind and dutiful son His mother was dangerously ill; he had come to visit her, console her by his presence, and administer to her necessities; but his business required attention, and with a heavy heart he was obliged to leave his native village, after taking, as he feared, a last farewell of his sick parent. The horn had sounded its last notes as I stood by the side of the coach; the impatient horses pranced beneath the lash. I looked up, and beheld the poor cripple seated next the village youth; his lameness, all his infirmities appeared forgotten in the idea that he should so much sooner reach his home, and joy sparkled in his dark eyes, whilst his companion's dejected countenance evinced far different reflections. The coach rolled rapidly away-the cripple looked forward with hope, the other waved his hand to his father with a glance of unutterable

sorrow.

The church bells had ceased, and I took my place amongst the congregation, but my thoughts wandered from the house of prayer to the scene I had just witnessed ; and vain were my efforts to recal them till I found or fancied in the sermon some analogy to the humble travellers. In simple and touching language, the preacher recorded the filial piety of Joseph, and dwelt with affecting earnestness on the happiness or misery which ensues to the parents from the conduct of the children they nurtured in their bosoms ;

he described the joy of the Patriarch in embracing his long lost son, and again I thought of him who had so recently quitted the paternal roof, and who had taken an earthly adieu of her who gave him birth. Jacob fainted when he heard that Joseph was yet alive-how would the widowed mother's heart sink within her when she beheld the child she had parted with in the bloom of youth and health, return to her arms the crippled shadow of what he since was? the eye that watched with fond delight his infant gambols, must now weep to behold the sad reverse of all these bright prospects which maternal love prophesied from the manly form and robust health of her only treasure. May her grief be mingled with resignation. May the finger of faith point out to her a better, even a heavenly country, where all her cares will

cease.

TO FANNY

Oh, meet me not when the sun is high,

'Neath the envious glance of the world's eye;
For the foul tongue of slander, that outcast of fame,
Has gone forth to rejoice o'er its victim's lost name;
And oh! may I rather in misery pine,

Than cause but one pang to that gay heart of thine.
Nor meet me, love, in the thoughtless throng,
Where the mazy dance, or the syren song,

Or the silver notes of the light guitar,

Charm the maidens' hearts which are lighter far;
For ah! canst thou cherish such joys as these,
Which, pleasing, yet carry a sting while they please?
But meet me, love, when none is nigh,
'Neath the watchful glance of a father's eye;
Where the sun, as he sinks to his place of rest,
Looks last on our isles which he loves the best;
We will watch him set till our gaze grows dim,
And all joy is lost, with the loss of him.
And a tale of love I there will tell,

Which will cause with affection thy heart to swell,
Will strike on thy spirit a gayer tone,

And thy love and thyself will be all my own.
Oh, charmer, that moment were ecstacy,

More precious than ages of bliss to me!

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ST. JAMES'S PARK. The Commissioners of Woods and Forests have received for their approval plans of two new lodges which are to be erected in St. James's Park. These plans will be submitted to his Majesty, and that which receives the Royal approbation will be built forthwith. The entrance into the stable-yard will be considerably improved, and a handsome gateway erected on a line with the iron railing in the rear of St. James's Palace. Some new seats, painted green, have been placed on the banks of the ornamental water, in the interior of the park.

TINCTURE OF ROSES. A good substitute for Otto of Roses made be easily made thus :-Take the leaves of the common rose (Centifolia); place them, without pressing them down, in a bottle; pour some good spirits of wine upon them; close the bottle, and let it stand till required It will keep for years, and a small drop will give

for use.

an odour to a room.

THE OPERA AT COмo.-Arrived at Como in time for the opera, quite a bust of splendour. Black velvet draperies frosted with bouquets of silver flowers, draperied again with pink and silver, boxes, like boudoirs, hung with rose-coloured satin, damasked with white, sofas, mirrors, splendid lighting up, and all this gorgeous display at the opera house at Como! We stood amazed, wondering how it all got there, and struck with the delicacy of taste with which so much tinsel was managed; nothing exuberant, no obtrusive glare, though perhaps better suited to a ball room than a theatre. Wherever effect, either sacred or profane, is to be produced, whether it be a benediction at Rome or a scenic decoration at Como, Italian taste is always perfect.Reminiscences of the Rhine.

THE ITALIANS.-Unquestionably the Italians are the noisest people in Europe,-singing like angels, and talking (as far as voice is concerned), like traffickers in fish or charcoal, the ear knows not whether it seizes the notes of a prima donna, or of a macaroni vendor. Last night, a party from Milan (capital gentry, our hostess said), who were either convivial or quarrelsome till an unreasonably late L. 34. 2.

I

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