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LOVE AND A COTTAGE, QUERE.
do love thee,” said Fred.; "but say," sung he, “ wilt thou quit those busy scenes where thou art fairest of the fair ?"
“Ah, now, fi donc," playfully responded Kate, “ you are but trying me; this is not kind, — it looks like doubting me, Fred.”
“As soon could I doubt my own existence," rapturously replied Fred. “But seriously, Kate, I have told a sad but fatal truth. I am a ruined man. I am deeply, deeply involved; my father has turned his back upon me ; my property is in the hands of Jews ; and, to crown all, a racing event I had calculated on to bring me in some thousands, has been frustrated, either by ill luck or the rascality of my trainer. But still, Kate, I have three hundred a year left, and a pretty cottage, unworthy of you, I allow, but enough for love, and with you for happiness, there we will go. But what," anxiously inquired Fred., “is the matter, love; you are ill, alarmingly ill; you will faint,” said he, rising to ring the bell.
"No matter," said Kate; “the sudden news you gave me overcame me. I am better now."
“ Some water, love," said Fred., in evident alarm.
“Do not tease me," replied Kate, recovering, and evidently turning some circumstances in her mind. " I must go."
“You will not leave me yet, Kate," said Fred. ; “were you going out ?”.
“We do not usually wear a riding habit to remain at home, I believe,” coolly answered the affectionate mistress. “Order my horse round,” said she, on the servant answering the bell. “Excuse me, Manderville, while I put on my hat.”
That kind of vague suspicion, so desolating to an
THE FIRST SUSPICION.
affectionate heart when attached to those we love, shot across the mind of Fred., as the splendid figure of Kate passed through the door. He did not, he would not, doubt her love ; still there was a something that told him she was changed ; some unpleasant thought had found foot-hold in his mind, to which, as she appeared again radiant in beauty, he exclaimed, “impossible.” She merely kissed her hand, playfully saying, “ au revoir," ran down the stairs, and before Fred. could rush to the door, her well-trained horse was cantering up the street.
Manderyille returned to his home in a total prostration of spirits he had never before experienced; he had no fixed doubt of his mistress, but a something told him a really fond and estimable woman would have acted totally different to the object of her affection under the pressure of calamity. He had no inducement to go out; he meditated on his prospects till he could bear his thoughts no longer. His valet reminded him of the hour; he mechanically changed his dress. A few spoonfuls of mulligatawny, an oyster patty, and a bottle of champagne, completed his hasty meal. He strolled to the theatre ; looked in at- , lost a few sovereigns at rouge et noir, returned home, and his constant but fatal refuge, brandy, procured that feverish but unrefreshing sleep, that to the wretched or the depraved is but too well known. At that hour when a cup of chocolate is often handed to the sons of wealth and aristocracy, Fred.'s valet, knowing the uncertainty of his master's wishes, inquired what he would like. “Café noir," said Fred., and pouring a large glass of cogniac into the cup, he took it off. “Call me at one,” said he, and again sunk into a heavy and perturbed sleep, repose
NEITHER LOVE OR THE COTTAGE. it was not. At one his valet handed him a note ; it ran thus:
“ As you had not the thought or generosity to make a settlement on her you professed to love, you cannot be surprised at her rewarding a man who will; or at the pupil of your extravagant hours, preferring luxury in a palace to love in a cottage. I am on my way with Count — to his estates in Germany; do not think I forget you, if you should pass. — I have the Count's permission to give you our invite there.
Blazé as Manderville was, this trait of cool ingratitude and nonchalance, from a woman he had rashly, fondly but foolishly loved, was like crushing the already half-broken heart. The pain was maddening; he leaped from his bed, snatched one of his pistols from the case, and put his finger on the trigger. Personal fear formed no part of Fred.'s constitution; but that angel who watches over all but the truly fiendish, intervened between him and destruction; he threw the pistol from him, and the outraged feelings of his heart found vent in woman's tears.
A few hours found him in a post-chaise on the Kent road. A few weeks saw his stud, and all the splendid specimens of his taste in virtù distributed in different hands. Six months after, a letter to a friend concluded thus:
" The men here dress in devilish bad taste; but, after all, Boulogne is a very fair refuge for the destitute.”
A HUNTING SONG.
Air-" The Lincolnshire Poacher.”
I am a jovial Sportsman, as every man should be,
We are such hardy fellows we never fear a fall,
us to go.
And now we greet the well-known Meet, we quickly leave
the hack, And jump upon our hunter, who is waiting with the pack : Then crashing through the covert both the hounds and hunts
man goOh! it's their delight in the foremost flight to tell Pug he
Hark! there I hear a challenge -- it is old Music's note A chorus joins — what joyous sounds now on the breezes float! “ Hark forward !” cries the Whip, for he has heard the
huntsman's blow; They'll soon be right in the foremost flight to show how they
“ Yoix, at him!” cries the Huntsman: “ hold hard !" for
there he breaks ; And straight across the open now his country he takes : He's fairly gone, so now we'll give a rattling “ Tally-ho!” And now we're right in the foremost flight like jolly bricks
And now for twenty minutes we have gone this glorious burst, The pace begins to tell on those who yet have gone the first. " A check !” we take a pull, and give our horses time to blow; 'Twill set them right in the foremost flight again like trumps
“ Hark, Ranter, hark !” the Huntsman cries: they hit him
off again; A sheet would cover all the pack now racing o'er the plain. “ A view !” it is the hunted fox I know by yonder crow, For it's her delight in the foremost fight with a sinking one
To reach yon distant covert now in vain game Reynard tries, Old Venom runs in to him, and he, gamely fighting, dies. “ Who-whoop!” now cries the Huntsman, who so late cried
“ Tally-ho!” 'Tis pure delight in the foremost flight in a run like this to go.
Here's to fox-hunting and fox-hunters, and may we never
trace The man within old England's shores who would put down
the Chase ! For such a man at once I scan as British Sportsmen's foe, Who still delight in the foremost flight like bricks and trumps to go.