detection; and in one instance in particular, Magrath after being bound over to bail, was tried at the sessions for some street riot, and though he was acquitted and wafted home with bands of friends and shouts of triumph, the pollution of 'The Dock,' and his mother's mild rebuke, weighed heavy on his heart for months afterwards. Indeed, to do him justice, after this occurrence he was to be seen less frequently at ale-houses, he became less boisterous in his night rambles, and saving in a few instances-for the heart must have something to lean on-he was throwing off his multitudinous acquaintances, and beginning to feel the first struggles of manly pride within his breast. Still he could not whistle off all his companions, but retained a few to whom he clung closer than ever. Foremost among these was Matty Brian, the best five-an'-ten player-the best ball player and best hurler in the town or county. 'Twas he was the inseparable follower of Mickky; a designing, cringing knave, who seldom allowed his real thoughts to escape his lips, or anger to conquer his natural bent; a coldblooded, calculating sycophant, he saw the power he had gained over Magrath, and with all the wily cunning that the meanest birth a life of struggle and poverty, and some innate talent could bestow, he was determined to manage him to his own purpose. But every body liked Matty-he told a story so well -and sung so well-and did every thing so well-and moreover was the very devil among the girls: but those who praised him for his card-playing little dreamt how easily he was cheating them-and they who laughed at his jokes and wondered at his stories, could hardly suspect how much they were his dupes, for whilst he was singing they were paying for the drink, and whilst they were listening to his marvels he was picking their pockets; but too cautious to commit himself where there was the smallest chance of being detected, his character not only escaped accusation but suspicion. Such was the boon-companion of Mickky Magrathsuch was the man who was worn in the heart of hearts of one born for better things-such was the parasite that twined itself round the youthful oak of promise that withered the trunk, blighted the bud, and blasted the fruit. 'Twas a strange union, the generous-minded and the base-the thoughtless and the hypocrite the honourable and the fraudulent :-we say honourable, for with all his numerous failings and delinquencies, he had a native benevolence of soul that held him aloof from dishonour, and though he was sinking hurriedly into sin and crime, his errors proceeded from the obliquities of an ill-directed, weak head, rather than a depraved heart. The generosity of Magrath was unbounded; his last shilling was ever ready for the distressed, and his hand ever open to assist a friend or help a stranger. He was consequently beloved by all who knew him. His charity, far as it went, spoke trumpet-tongued the beggars in the streets blessed him as he passed on, and good wishes attended him wherever he went. His gaiety-his humour-his eternal buoyancy of spirits, made him idolized by the most enthusiastic portion of the most enthusiastic of nations-the lower grade of the Irish; and his gentle manners and winning demeanour made him the sought, the praised and the prized of that sex whose smiles had ever for him a charm beyond all other charms. The last, though not the least, of the redeeming qualities we mention here, was, his love for his mother. Her extravagant indulgence of his infancy and youth, he never repaid with one act or word of unkindness-the usage too-too often she receives who proves her love superior to her reason her hopes for another stronger than her fears for herself; and however far he might forget himself-however heedless he might be where self alone was concerned-his mother's care, when she required attention, obtained all his solicitude-her every wish was anticipated-her every command fulfilled. Still not unfrequently his stray ways plunged her into sorrow and lonely grief. When absent all night, or coming home late in a state of intoxication, he found his poor old mother waiting up for him, his kindness and gentleness in that condition in which we are told truth is ever uppermost, made her old heart ache with joy, and all her darling boy's delinquencies were forgotten in that proud moment of maternal fondness; but these repeated night after night could not fail to bring their reproaches, and when at times in a fretful mood she upbraided him sharply, he never retorted with more than a "God bless you, mother!' and went to bed. (To be continued.) STANZAS. BY MISS E. NELSON. Sweet are the dreams of early years, Sweet are those dreams, ere the coming hours Dreams pass the soul, beat down its cage, TRANSLATIONS OF CELEBRATED FOREIGN WORKS. No. I. MONSIEUR FRONTIN. From the French of CH. PAUL DE KOCK. CHAPTER VI. TOO OLD. "THAT they should find me not sufficiently rich!-may pass !" said Girardière to himself, reflecting on his visit to Madame Belleville; "but that they should tell me I am ugly! is absurda mere pretext for rejecting me.-Ah! why did I frighten Madame Grandvillain's little dog!-I should certainly have married her daughter!-That young person did not find me ugly, and her parents considered me rich enough!-But there are yet plenty of women to marry in the world, and as my respectable mother says, I have only the embarrassment of choosing-nevertheless by some fatality several choices have already escaped me!" For some days Girardière remained undecided as to the object of his next proposal:-at last he recollected a family he had often visited before he launched into fashionable life-a family of good citizens-straightforward, frank, and unceremoniouswhom it was impossible to visit without being detained to dinner, and who at table were never satisfied, if you did not give yourself an indigestion. This was the family of M. Lapoucette, a retired cabinetmaker. It consisted of the papa, mamma, two aunts, and three daughters. The girls were very young when Girardière was in the habit of visiting the house, but during the five years that had elapsed since he had ceased his intimacy, they had necessarily grown. When he last saw them, the youngest was eleven, the second thirteen, and the eldest fourteen: five years had made them women, fit to become mistresses of a family. Perhaps one, or even two of them may be married," thought Girardière, "but it is not probable that they are all so. As well as I can remember, they were very pretty; years can only have developed their charms-faith, I will take which ever of them is free. I was much courted in the family of the good Lapoucette I will renew my visits there;-I am only sorry this idea did not strike me before." After having ceremoniously completed his toilet, Girardière presented himself at the house of his old friend, Lapoucette. One of the aunts opened the door, and cried out on seeing him: "Is it possible!-do I see M. Girardière?" "Himself, my dear madame." "It is indeed a miracle to see you here!-Laurence!-Anna! -Cecilia!-sisters-it is M. Girardière !" "It is M. Girardière!" was echoed on all sides of the house; and the rest of the family soon appeared. Aunts, mother, father, children, all hastened to welcome their old friend-to take his hand, to press it warmly, amidst kind reproaches for his long neglect. - "You will dine with us-of course you will dine with us-you must stay—we will not let you go. My dear, be particular with the dinner-let us have something nice-Girardière used to be an epicure, and most likely is so now;-such qualities are only increased by time;-love of good eating never deserts us." My friend my dear friend!" said Girardière, putting his handkerchief to his eyes, "I am so touched-so flattered by your reception-that really-I think-" "Tush!-don't be foolish-come and warm yourself, that is better than crying-here we are more accustomed to laughing." M. Lapoucette was a little man, very fat, very ruddy, very healthy, and very good-humoured. He made Girardière take a seat, saying: "You have been nearly five years without coming to see us; but something particular has prevented you, I am sure.-However I will make you no more reproaches, and as we did not part in anger, so we will not meet again in unkindness;-it should always be thus among friends. Now-make yourself at home as much as if you had never ceased to visit us." 'My dear Lapoucette, be assured that my friendship has ever remained the same!" "I doubt it not, my friend—though, by-the-by, your countenance has not remained unaltered, like your friendship-you look much older-very much older-your hair is lying at Picard's! -ha! ha!-you recollect my old joke.-In vain you bring round to your forehead the few hairs that remain!-in vain you would beat the recall!-ha! ha! ha!" Girardière bit his lips, and replied, "I don't know whether I look older-but I know that I feel very well-my health is delicious." "Well! my friend, health is the chief thing. Besides, do we not all grow old?-is it not the law of nature?-And your mother -is she still living?" "Certainly! she still lives." "She must be very aged!-very much broken!" "No! indeed-she is very well." "All the better!-all the better!-My daughters are much altered during the last five years, as you may observe; but they have not grown ugly-on the contrary. Young ladies-come here-approach-that my friend Girardiere may renew his acquaintance with you." The three Demoiselles Lapoucette hastened to their father's side, and addressed an amiable smile to the old friend of the family; who had, more than once, played with them on his knees, and given them sweetmeats. Girardière stood in admiration before the young ladies.-And the papa exclaimed, with an air of pride : They are pretty well-are they not!" "They are ravishing!-dazzling!" "Oh!-ravishing!-tush! you are directly seeking out words which are used in the great world to cover falsehood and flattery! They are pretty, and what is more, will make good housekeepers : which, in my opinion, is the most essential thing." "Yes-yes!-my friend!-you are right!-that is the capital point-the point which should be indispensable." In saying this, Girardière rolled his grey-green eyes over the three young girls; uncertain yet, as to which he should give the preference. Lapoucette taking his eldest daughter by the hand, besides Do "This is Laurence," said he "she is just nineteen-a very sensible girl-and scolds her sisters when they are idle which, she is a good child-and makes preserves admirably. you remember how naughty she was, when a little one?-One day her mamma was going to whip her, and you asked grace for her?-this must be sixteen years ago-at least sixteen years ago! "Mademoiselle Laurence is very like her mamma," remarked Girardière, unwilling to dwell on the remembrance of old times, and wishing to change the subject of conversation. "Do you think so!-it is not my opinion.-This is Anna-the frolicksome Anna-she is going on for eighteen. Do you recollect when you dined here, and she first began to walk, how she teased you?-always wanting to be in your arms!-Ah! she was not so heavy then!" "She is very like you-very like indeed!-it is your expression-it is even your nose!" "Delicious!-I, who am round and ruddy, and Anna, who has an oval face and a pale complexion!-I cannot think where you find your resemblances.-This is Cecilia-the wicked Cecilia!-ha! ha!-she was very obstinate when a child!-She was fifteen the day before yesterday.-But you ought to know her age, for you were at her baptism-do you remember it, old boy!" "Do you think I was?" "Yes-yes!—and you ate so many sugar-plums, that you were indisposed! Ha! ha!-I say, Girardière-does not all this make us look old?" |