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" Indeed !”
failure in the hearing of his wife. The “I wouldn't allow it; and, to do her shrewd reader may possibly give a broad justice,” he pursued,
" she never showed guess for what reason, but it was unacany inclination to dispute my authority. All knowledged even to himself. Rawlins, at the complaint I can make of her is, that she the request of his host, related his story is a little too forward with her advice some- first; but as it was void of interest, excepttimes. But that has nothing to do with ing to those who had a personal regard for the present matter; she'll make you wel- him, we will not tire the reader with the come, I promise you. I never yet knew recital. her look black upon a guest, let me in “My narrative is, you see, very barren vite him when I would.”
of incident,” he observed as he concluded. “You seem, my good friend, to have “ I have had no hairbreadth escapes; no been lucky in your choice of a wife at all sudden reverses; no accounts of being drag. events,” the traveller observed ; " and your ged to a prison either for my own or any one description of your home is so inviting, that else's debts; and now, shall I tell you what I cannot resist the very strong inclination has been the key to my prosperity ?” I have to avail myself of your kind offer.” “Why, you've been a fortunate fellow,
“ That's just what I wanted you to do. that's all; you always were so; you never I'm not a man for unmeaning compli- got into the scrapes that I did when you ments,” cried Bradshaw; and as he spoke, were a boy.” be with some dificulty linked his arm with “ Fortune has had nothing to do with it, in that of his companion, and bustled my friend,” Rawlins exclaimed. “The setowards his dwelling. “Are you married, cret of my success is this---I made choice of Rawlins ?” he abruptly asked after a brief a good partner; and" pause.
“Ah, you were lucky there at all events," “Oh yes, I've been married these seven Bradshaw interposed. “My partner has
been my ruin.” “ Then I shrewdly guess that you have Rawlins looked up in astonishment. been foolish enough to let your wife get the “What, that quiet, gentle-looking woman?” upper hand : is it so ?”
he remarked.“ “ Why, I thought”"You're quite mistaken there, my “ She! No, I don't mean her: I mean friend. My idea of happiness in married the partner I took into my concern. life is for man and wife to go hand in hand, Rawlins laughed heartily at his own blunand to have no upper hand in the matter." der. “ I beg Mrs. Bradshaw's pardon a
“Oh-oh! that is your opinion, is it? thousand times,” he said ; “ but my good Well, I can't say it is mine. I could nev- fellow, I was alluding to my wife when I er live with a woman who did not allow me spoke of my partner. I have had no other to be master."
partner, I have needed none." “Nor I, my friend ; but then I would, “ I took a young man into my business at the same time, allow her to be mistress.” because he brought in a thousand pounds,
“Then you are under female rule, after but he turned out a sad rogue. all, Rawlins?
“Ah, I had no such inducement,” Raw“Not a bit of it; but I am under female lins interposed. “I selected a partner with influence."
good sense and good principles ; that was of The friends had by this time reached the more value than a thousand pounds; and door of the house, and the cheerful smile the secret of my success, my friend, is my which sat upon Mrs. Bradshaw's counte- having made use of these qualifications, and nance, when told by her husband that he placed unbounded confidence in her.” had brought home à guest for the night, The little draper looked somewhat disand the alacrity with which she set about concerted, and glanced quickly round to obthe necessary preparations for his accommo- serve if Mrs. Bradshaw were within hearing. dation, clearly indicated that the draper's " Pshaw !" he pettishly exclaimed ; statements were perfectly correct. The ab- “ you've been a fortunate fellow, that's the sence of the lady gave the gentlemen an ex- upshot of the matter." cellent opportunity for unrestrained confi “ I tell you once more, my good friend, dence. Rawlins would not have hesitated that fortune had nothing to do with it; but to tell his tale if Mrs. Bradshaw had been we won't get into a dispute. Let me hear present, but poor Mr. Bradshaw never your story; I fancy it has more interest could allude to the circumstances of his late / than mine."
Bradshaw was not sorry to change the tunity of observing this. My father and a subject, and putting on a very dolorous as- twin brother were partners in business, and pect, he commenced his woful tale. Hap- occupied adjoining houses. They married, py would he have been had Rawlins allow- and commenced the world together, and ed him to proceed without interruption; were as alike in character as in age. They but, as the poor little draper thought, some were upright, well-meaning men, and were, evil genius possessed him, and induced him in consequence, much esteemed; but they to make occasional queries, which were by both held the lordly views of which I spoke. no means pleasant to answer. These were My father, happily for his family, made a “But what did your wife say to this?” wise choice in his partner for life; but there “What did Mrs. Bradshaw advise ?” his wisdom ended : he scorned to make use “ Surely Mrs. Bradshaw was more quick-of her good sense and judgment, supposing, sighted?” “Women are good advisers in like you, that women ought not to be consuch cases,” &c. The poor man got more sulted in any matters beyond the household nervous than ever when obliged to confess economy. My uncle was less happy in his that Mrs. Bradshaw had opposed his taking selection. He married a giddy, thoughtless the new shop and the long lease ; that she woman. Still had he treated her with con
young Smithson as a partner ;fidence, and showed her that he considered and that she had done her utmost to pre- she had an equal interest with himself in his vent his niece's marriage; but he made an commercial success, he might possibly have attempt to get out of the raillery which, corrected her thoughtlessness; but as this though not very quicksighted himself, he was not the case, she was always carrying on could not but foresee would follow, by la- some petty deception, whicń wholly dementing that he had been born under such stroyed their original peace. I learned a an unlucky planet.
valuable lesson, however, from their experi"The planets have had no more to ence.
Thinks 1 to myself, when I marry, do with your disasters than I have, my wor- I'll have a wife I can trust, and then I thy friend,” Rawlins interrupted him by will trust her. She shall see that I expect exclaiming; " but I will give you a piece of her to take an interest in my wellbeing in information for which, if you make good everything. She shall be my confidant in use of it, you'll thank me if, at the end of every affair relating to my interest or my another ten years, we should meet again.'! feelings ; and she shall have no temptation
“Oh, I hope we shall meet long before to deceive me, because she shall not have that !” cried Bradshaw.
any cause to complain that I am ungener“ I hope we shall, but be that as it may, ous. Well, I put these resolves into pracyou will thank me for the information when- tice, and it has fully answered my expectaever you see me."
tions. Depend upon it, my friend,” he “Pray what may it be?”
concluded, perceiving his companion was “I am afraid you will not make use of it lost in a fit of musing---“ depend upon it, without a little reluctance," Rawlins re- there is no happiness in the marriage state sumed ; " but I'm confident that the result without mutual confidence. The more a will fully recompense you for the effort it woman is trusted, the more she will feel may cost you. It is this, my friend :-All that the interests of her husband are her your misfortunes have arisen from your own; and I believe that extravagant, mishaving pursued a course diametrically op- managing wives, are more frequently made posed
to that which I have taken : that is, so by the want of this confidence than by from your having scorned the counsel of your any other circumstance.”
Poor Bradshaw at that moment The entrance of Mrs. Bradshaw, followed wished his old schoolmate anywhere but by a little handmaid with a well-cooked sawhere he was; still he made no remark. vory supper, put a stop to the conversation,
“Now, I tell you what it is, my good also to poor Bradshaw's reverie ; and in fellow,” Rawlins proceeded, “we lords of performing the rites of hospitality to his the creation are apt to plume ourselves on friend, he forgot, or at least pardoned, his a superiority we do not possess. We give telling him a truth which no one had ever the ladies credit for affection, gentleness, had the moral courage to tell him before. kindness, and all that sort of thing, but we It was nearly three years ere the two fancy that all the intelligence, good sense, friends again met, and then it was by the and sagacity are th int our scale--- same fireside, though the room they octhat is, our pates. I had an early oppor- cupied contained many useful and orna
mental articles which it bad not done at|shaw's ear; but as it was a whisper, and the former meeting. Mrs. Bradshaw being only heard by the person to whom it was present the greater part of the evening, spoken, we cannot be expected to make the Rawlins could not allude to the subject of reader acquainted with it. The answer of their last conversation ; but he thought, the little draper will, however, possibly elufrom the fact of her being present, that there cidate the mystery. It was this : “ I've not was some improvement in the quarter where forgotten it, my good fellow; I've not forhe most desired it. At length he found an gotten your prophecy, and I can't help fulopportunity of whispering a word in Brad- filling it. Thank ye---thank ye !"
from Howitt's Journal.
BY ERNEST JONES.
Forest-lights so golden green:
Like a chain the tranquil scene.
Flowed the river silvery blue,
Till I longed to wander too.
Lingered on the level waves,
At the thought of distant graves.
Danced a barque upon their flow
To and fro and to and fro.
BY THE REV. GEORGE ASPINALL.
No! clad in sober grey;
Nor blinds to what is right.
Or flattery make it grow;
Is in the cause of right;
Not poor, for on him fall
A lord, at least in mind-
On the luring waters riding,
On and on it floated fast,
At the pleasant spors I passed.
Fainter still appeared the shore ;
Deeper still its smothered roar.
From the glade I left behind,
On a melancholy wind.
Homeward, homeward, once again!
Sweeps the river to the main!
Dim and vast with flood and foam ;
Tell me why I left my home?
As Spring upon a silver cloud
Mother, I'm tired, and I would fain be sleeping; Lay looking on the world below,
Let me repose upon thy bosom seek : Watching the breezes as they bowed
Bui promise me that thou wilt leave off weeping, The buds and blossoms to and fro,
Because thy tears fall hot upon my cheek She saw the fields with Hawthorns walled; Here it is cold: the tempest raveth madly;
Said Spring, “New buds I will create.' But in my dreams all' is so wondrous bright; She to a Flower-spirit called,
I see the angel-children smiling gladly, Who on the month of May did wait,
When from my weary eyes I shut out light And bade her fetch a Hawthorn spray, That she might make the buds of May. Mother, one stands beside me now! and, listen !
Dost thou not hear the music's sweet accord ? Said Spring, "The grass looks green and bright, See how his white wings beautifully glisten! The Hawthorn hedges too are green,
Surely those wings were given him by our Lord! I'll sprinkle them with flowers of light, Green, gold, and red are floating all around me: Such stars as earth hath never seen;
They are the flowers the angel scattereth. And all through England's girded vales, Shall I have also wings whilst life has bound me?
Her steep hill-sides and haunted streams, Or, mother, are they given alone in death ? Where woodlands dip into the dales,
Where'er the Hawthorn stands and dreams, Why dost thou clasp me, as if I were going? Where thick-leaved trees make dark the day, Why dost thou press thy cheek thus unto mine ! I'll light each nook with flowers of May. Thy cheek is hot, and yet thy tears are flowing:
I will, dear mother, will be always thine! "Like pearly dew-drops, white and round,
Do not sigh thus-it marreth my reposing; The shut up birds shall first appear,
And, if thou weep, then must I weep with thee! And in them be such fragrance found
Oh, I am tired-my weary eyes are closing: As breeze before did never bear;
Look, mother, look, the angel kisseth me!
When angels hovered round its bowers,
From the ¡People's Journal.
THE HASTY WORD.
BY ANNA SAVAGE.
“ And oft shall groups of children come,
Threading their way through shady places, From many a peaceful English home,
We are too swift to judge the hasty word, The sunshine falling on their faces;
Called forth, may be, by jarring some fine chord, Starting with merry voice the thrush,
We have too roughly handled. Swifter we speak As through green lanes they wander singing, May fail to tell how keen the shaft hath been;
Our scornful bitter thoughts, the bloodless cheek To gather the sweet Hawthorn-bush, Which homeward in the evening bringing,
No quivering of the tutored lip is seen With smiling faces, they shall say,
To tell how sure the vengeance, but the heart ?* There's nothing half so sweet as May!
Could we but raise its veil, then should we start
Of lifeless forms, in trappings that they wore “And many a poet yet unborn
Ere death's cold care had claimed them. We Shall link its name with some sweet lay,
should hear And lovers oft at early morn
Wailings of smothered anguish, though no tear Shall gather blossoms of the May,
May tell it to the world, sounding amid With eyes bright as the silver dews,
The forms of mournful memories that lie hid Which on the rounded May-buds sleep;
In Time's dark treasure-house. The world ?-it And lips, whose parted smiles diffuse
hath A sunshine o'er the watch they keep,
Too little joy upon its thorny path, Shall open all their white array
That we should scorn to heed another's pain. Of pearls, ranged like the buds of May.”
Like sunshine through the summer-rain,
Is the sweet bond of kindness, brightly thrown Spring shook the cloud on which she lay, On life's dark clouds, forming a heavenly zone; And silvered o'er the Hawthorn spray, .
And fairest in the stormiest sky appears, Then showered down the buds of May.
Weaving a web of beauty, e'en from tears.
National SONGS AND Music of the SERVIANS. | songs pleased them. The difference in religion is - When, in the winter evenings, all are assembled overcome by poesy: it unites the whole race--it around the fire, and the women are engaged with lives throughout the nation. The mountains, where their spinning, a song is struck up by whomsoever the herdsman tends his cattle; the plains on which happens to know it best. The old men, having the harvest is reaped ; the forest, through which the grown-up sons, and being excused from hard labor, traveller makes his way-all resound with song: recite these songs to their gandchildren, who yield it forms an accompaniment to business of all sorts. themselves with delight to the impressions through What, then, are the subjects of these strains, which which they receive their first knowledge of the under circumstances so infinitely varied, are thus world. Even the Igumens of the cloister do not interwoven with life, while they are almost uncondeem it derogatory to sing to the gusle. But the sciously raised above it? performance has more of the character of recitation What man strongly feels he naturally seeks to exthan of singing: the monotonous sound of the instru- press. Here, where no external model presents itment, which has but one string, falls in only at the selt, the inward spiritual existence, from which all end of the verse.
our thoughts and actions proceed, is manifested by In the mountains, where men are of simpler words, according to its own peculiar originality. In habits, loftier in stature, and of ruder nature we the light of innate thought, which is the spirit of hear heroic songs, invariably of five trochees, and life, poetry conceives its ideas, and reproduces them the fixed pause after the second tool; and almost true to nature, but in purer and more abstrael every line is in itself a complete sentence. The forms; at once individual and symbolical. lower we come down towards the Danube and the Servian song discloses the domestic life of the Save, and the closer together we find the villages people: it pays due honor to the husbandman, "who the race of men is more polished, more friendly, has black hands but eats white bread;" it loves to and also smaller in stature; and the gusle becomes dwell with fondness on the old man with venerable less common; and—especially as an accompani- Aowing beard, whose soul, when he leaves the ment for dancing, the love-song prevails : it is earthly temple of his God, has become pure as ether, more flexible and flowing than other songs since it or the breath of a flower; but it most luxuriates in adds the dactyl, in varied modes, to the trochee; but those affections which exalt the worth of a family it is in its kind equally national.
and maintain it in integrity and honor. In the more numerous assemblies, the heroic song The singer delights to speak of the maiden in the prevails; and at taverns, where card-playing is yet first bloom of youth, gaily participating in every unknown, it constitutes the principal entertainment: gentle sport; he sympathizes with her growing afthe singer is he who has first taken the gusle into fection when she first becomes aware of its existhis hand, and who is best able to accompany it with ence, and confides it only to the garland that she his voice. At the festivals and assemblies near the throws into the brook; tracing its progress to the cloisters, parties stand forward who have devoted time when she confesses to the youth that gazing themselves exclusively to singing—including the upon him she had grown up graceful in his sight; blind; who, however-especially in Servia-are of and on to the blissful period of their union, which he tener singers than composers of songs. Men of real pictures in strains of surpassing sweetness. Charmpoetic talent, like Philip Wishnitsch from Bosnia, ing picture, sweetly limned, on the light background are occasionally met with, who collect a circle of a landscape. — Ranke's History of Servia. around them, and often move their audience to tears.
ELICITING AN IDEA.-Two Dutchmen living opNor have those Servians who have gone over to posite each other, who had been for many years in Islamism been able to subdue their affection for the habit of smoking by their door-sides in silence, poesy:
Christians and Mahometans frequently at length broke forth in the following dialogue :have the same heroic song; the only difference be- "What sort of wedder you think it will be to-day, ing that each claims the victory for the adherents to neighbor !" The other after two or three hasty his own faith. The chiefs, though they would not puffs: "Well, I don't know; what sort of wedder take part in the song listen to it with delight; you think it will be.” The first, somewhat nettled : and in Sarajewo, they once induced the kadi to li- " I tink it will be wedder as you tink it will be." berate a Christian prisoner, merely because his The other, acquiescingly: "Well, I tink so too.".