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That was not my first thought. I woke

up sad; I lay exhausted on my couch ; my head Was dull, my thoughts confused. I felt The morrow after suffering much ; and yet A voice was whispering to my inmost heart These cheering words, “O happy, happy

thou !" Sudden the door flew open, and, O joy! 'Twas she, my daughter, whom they brought

to me! The feeble babe !--the darling child

I swear, When they had laid her sleeping by my

sideWhen I beheld her lying in mine arms When pressing her with rapture to my

heart, I felt the warmth of her little frame, I thought my very heart would break with

joy! I covered her with kisses, murmuring low, “She's mine—my own--my daughter !"

and I wept. Then all at once I felt a longing wish To kneel me down in prayer upon the stones, And cry aloud, "O God, how good Thou

art!" And yet, while listening to her breathing

low (Thou'lt think it strange), I still felt some

regret Some feeling as if she were not so much Mine own as when I bore her in my breast.'

and touching in the foregoing little piece—much that is sure to come home to the feelings of every mother who reads it. It is, however, curiously characteristic of French modes of thinking, that neither the Ella nor the Clari of the poem should make the slightest allusion to the persons whom we, in our simplicity, would have looked upon as the natural sharers of their anxieties, their husbands, namely, the fathers of the babes so tremblingly longed for, so dearly welcomed! How different, and how much more true to nature, are the lines in the old Scottish ballad“ Thou art sae like my ain soldier laddie,

Thou'rt aye the nearer, the dearer to me!" But in French poetry, as in French prose, we fear ibat such an allusion would be considered in the worst possible taste ; and yet in no country are there more tender fathers than in France. Were we to seek to account for this anomaly, it would lead us very far, indeed, from the subject upon which we sat down to write; we shall not, therefore, make the attempt, but content ourselves with saying, that we regret this solitary blemish in an other. wise faultless composition, all the more as it weakens the pleasing impressions made upon our minds by the two young mothers-suggesting, as it does, ideas of domestic discomfort, of cold-hearted selfishness in connexion with them.

The half-hour for which we under. took to bestow our tediousness upon our readers not being yet expired, we shall venture to direct their attention to the following attempt of ours to translate one of the exquisite frag. ments of verse into which the prose of the eccentric, but highly-gifted, Alphonse Karr sometimes forgets itself:

ELLA. "Thanks, thanks, dear Clari! Would I

could express The good thy words have done me. One

by one They told my happiness in telling thine, And I became a mother as I heard !'


“In Spring each year, when Nature fills with

green, With balmy odours, and with joy each

“A cry broke sudden from the infant's lips It was her waking hour. The youthful

pair Bent their bright faces o'er the angel babe, Who woke all rosy from her happy sleep, And each in silence kissed the precious oneHerald to each of happiness, of hope ! Then, as they raised them from the long,

long kiss, Their eyes (more brilliant through the glance

ing tears, The happy tears that filled them) met—a

look They interchanged that spoke a thousand

things ; Then pressed each other in a long embrace, For in a moment their maternal love Had made them sisters in the sight of

Heaven !"


When all is life and all is love on earth : Among the lilac and laburnum flowers, Sweet memories lurk like Fauns in forest

bowers, Sporting around my path with playful


" Each flower that opes its petals to the day, To me hath got some gentle phrase to say, Some word that to the heart's core thrill

eth me;

There is much that is both truthful

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“You know the flower that hangs itself

from walls, Like a green net o'er leaves and buds that

falls ? Convolvulus, or bind-weed, which you

will ;

Its countless bells, in sombre azure dyed, Its countless bells, at morn and eventide,

To me a certain song are singing still:

“A song of love, a simple, earnest song
I made one day I had been waiting long,

For HER, beneath the shadow of a tree! Yonder the starry wall-flower, bright and

gay (The greatest babbler 'mong the flowers),

One more specimen of modern French poetry, and we have done with the subject, at least for the present. It is a sonnet by the late celebrated romance writer, de Balzac, who was also distinguished, though in a less degree, as a poet, and is one of a series he wrote upon flowers. To those who have read “Faust,” either in the ori. ginal or a translation, it will not be necessary to explain that the allusion in the sonnet is to a custom in Germany, as well as in some parts of France, among young people, of telling their fortunes by counting the petals of a daisy, torn from it one by one for that purpose :

doth say,

Rememberest thou the days thou once

didst see?

"The places where thy life more swiftly

sped, The flight of steps that to the garden led, The antique steps, moss-grown and gray

of bue? From out their crevices grew golden flow

ers Her white robe touched them in the morning

hours, When on the violets glistened still the


THE DAISY. " I am the Daisy-once the fairest flower

Of all that star the soft, green dewy grass !

I hoped my days in calm content to pass, For I was blest, my beauty my sole dower : But ah! a wondrous and mysterious power Hath shed upon my brow its fatal lightI am a prophet in mine own despite, Hence do i die-Knowledge brings Death,

alas ! No longer silence or repose are mine ; The lover will through me his fate divine, And tears my heart to learn if he alone Be loved. O'er my destruction none e'er

grieve; My brow they of its snowy crown bereave, And crush me to the dust — my secret

known !"

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"A pale white rose Shedding, in sudden snows, Its leaves upon the velvet turf around."_F. HEMANS.






SHALL I own that Margot's story af- first teach us to be heroes to our own fected me in a very different manner hearts are our earliest idols. Ay, from what the good Abbé had in- and with all the changes and chances tended it should ? I could neither sym- of life, they have their altars within us pathise with the outraged pride of the to our latest years. Why should it old Marquis, the offended dignity of not be so ? What limit ought there family, nor with the insulted honour to be to our gratitude, to those who of the sacred vocation she had aban- first suggested noble ambitions, highdoned. My reflections took a very soaring thoughts, and hopes of a glodifferent form, and turned entirely rious future—who instilled in us our upon the dangers of the career she first pride of manhood, and made us had adopted-perils which, from what I seem worthy of being loved ! could collect of her character, were Margot had done all this for me extremely likely to assail her. She when but a child, and now she was a was young, beautiful, gifted, and am- woman, beautiful and gifted! The fame bitious; and, above all, she was friend. of her genius was world-wide. Did less. What temptations would not she still remember me?-had she ever assail her by what flatteries would a thought for the long past hours she not be beset! Would she be en. when we walked hand-in-hand togedowed with strength to resist these ? ther, or sat silently in some summer Would the dignity of her ancient de- arbour ? I recalled all that she had scent guard her, or would the enthu- ever said to me, in consolation of the siasm for her art protect her? These past, or with hope for the future. I were questions that I could not solve, pondered over little incidents, meanor rather, I solved them in many and ingless at the time, but now full of different ways. For a long time had their own strong significance ; and I she occupied a great share in my heart; felt at last assured that, when she bad sometimes I felt towards her as to. spoken to me of ambitious darings and wards a sister. I thought of the hours high exploits, she had been less exwe had passed side by side over our horting me than giving utterance to books—now working hard and eagerly, the bursting feelings of her own advennow silent and thoughtful, as some turous spirit. train of ideas would wile us away from Her outbreaks of impatience - her study, and leave us forgetful of even scarcely suppressed rebellion against each other-till a chance word, a ges- the dull ritual of our village lifeture, a sigh, would recall us -- and her ill-disguised suspicion of priestly then, interchanging our confessions, influence, now rose before me; and I for such they were, we turned to our could see, that the flame which had books again. But at other times, I burst forth at last, had been smoulthought of her as one dearer still than dering for many a year within her. I this — as of one to win whose praise I could remember, too, the temper, little would adventure anything whose short of scorn, in which she saw me chance words lingered in my memory, devote myself to Jesuit readings, and suggestive of many a hope, and, alas! labour hard at the dry tasks the Sister many a fear! It is no graceful re- Ursule bad prescribed for me. And flection to dwell upon, however truth- yet then all my ambitions were of the ful, that our first loves are the emana- highest and noblest. I could have tions of our self-esteem. They who braved any dangers, or met any perils,

in the career of a missionary! Labour, scurity and privation ; their very preendurance, suffering, martyrdom it- tension to rank and title a thing to self, had no terror for me. How was conceal ; their ancient blood a subject it that this spirit did not touch her of scorn and insult. But I remember heart ? Were all her sympathies so the Marquis de Jupernois a haughty bound up with the world that every noble in the haughtiest court of Eusuccess was valueless that won no rope; I have seen that very Marquis favour with mankind ? Had she no receiving royalty on the steps of his test for nobility of soul save in the re- own chateau, and have witnessed his cognition of society? When I tried days of greatness and grandeur. ” to answer these questions, 1 suddenly * True,” said I, “but even with bethought me of my own short-com- due allowance for all this, I cannot reings. Where had this ambition led gard the matter in the same light that me — what were its fruits ? Had I you do. To my eyes, there is no such really pursued the proud path I once dignity in the life of a nun, nor any tracked out for myself ? – or, worse such disgrace in that of an actress.” thought again, had it no existence I said this purposely in the very whatever ? Were devotion, piety, and strongest terms I could employ, to see single-heartedness nothing but impo- how he would reply to it. sition, hypocrisy, and priestcraft ? - “ And you are right, Gervois,” said Were the bright examples of mission. be, laying his hand affectionately on ary enterprise only cheats ?-- were all mine. "You are right. Genius and the narratives of their perilous exis- goodness can ennoble any station, and tence but deception and falsehood ? there are few places where such quaMy latter experiences of life had served lities exert such influence as the little to exalt the world in my esteem. stage." I had far more frequently come into I suffered him to continue without contact with corruption than with interruption in this strain, for every honesty. My experiences were all word he spoke served to confirm those of fraud and treachery—of such, me in my suspicion of his dishotoo, from men that the world reputed nesty. Mistaking the attention with as honourable and high-minded. T'here which I listened for an evidence of con. was but one step more, and that a viction, he enlarged upon the theme, narrow one, to include the priest in and ended at last by the conclusion, the same category with the layman, that to judge of Margot's actions and deem them all, alike rotten and fairly, we should first learn her mocorrupted. I must acknowledge that tives. the Abbé himself gave no contradic- - Who can tell,” said he, “ what tion to this unlucky theory. Artful good she may not have proposed to and designing always, he scrupled at herself!_by what years of patient ennothing to attain an object, and could durance and study — by what pasemploy a casuistry to enforce his views sages of suffering and sorrow she far more creditable to his craft than to may have planned some great and his candour. I was no stranger to good object. It is a narrow view the arts by which he thought to entrap of life that limits itself to the myself. I saw him condescend to day we live in. They who measure habits and associates the very reverse their station by the task they perform, of those he liked, in the hope of pleas- and not by its results on the world at ing me; and even when narrating the large, are but short-sighted mortals ; story of Margot's fall for such he and it is thus I would speak to yourself called it_I saw him watching the im- Gervois. You are dissatisfied with pression it produced upon me, and your path in life. You complain of it canvassing, as it were, the chances, as irksome, and even ignoble. Have that here at length might possibly be you never asked yourself, Is not this found the long-wished-for means of mere egotism? Have I the right to obtaining influence over me.

think only of what suits me, and ac“I do not ask of you," said he, as commodates itself to my caprices ? he concluded, “ to see all these things Are there no higher objects than my as I see them. You knew them in pleasure or my convenience ? Is the their days of poverty and downfall; great fabric of society of less account you have seen them the inhabitants of than my likings or dislikings ? Am I an humble village, leading a life of ob- the judge, too, of the influence I may



my hands.

exert over others, or how my actions I had long rebelled against ; my next may sway the destinies of mankind ? a dreary consciousness of my None should be more able to apply helpless and friendless condition in life. these facts than yourself—you that, in I opened my little purse upon the table, a rank of which you were, I must say and spread out its contents before unjustly, ashamed, and yet were often- There were seven pounds and a times in possession of secrets on which few shillings. A portion of my salary thrones rested and dynasties endured." was still due to me, but now I would

He said much more in the same have felt it a degradation to claim it, strain ; some of his observations being so odious had the career become in my true and incontestible, and others the

eyes. mere outpouring of his crafty and sub- I began to think over the various tle intellect. They both alike fell un- things for which my capacity might fit heeded by me now.

Enough for me me. They seemed a legion when I that I had detected, or fancied I had stood in no need of them, and yet none detected him. I listened only from now rose to my mind, without some curiosity, and as one listens for the last almost impassable barrier. I knew no time.

art nor handicraft. My habits renYes! I vowed to myself that this dered me unequal to daily labour with should be our last meeting. I could

I knew many things en not descend to the meanness of dissi- amateur, but not as an artist. I could mulation, and affect a friendship I did ride, draw, fence, and had some skill not feel ; nor could I expose myself to in music, but in not one of these could the chances of a temptation which as- I

compete with the humblest of those sailed me in so many shapes and forms. who taught them. Foreign languages, I resolved, therefore, that I would not too, I could speak, read, and write again visit the Abbé; and my only doubt well; but of any method to communiwas whether I should not formally de- cate their knowledge I had not the clare my determination.

vaguest conception. After all, these He had ceased to speak; and I sat, seemed my best acquirements, and I silently pondering this question in my determined to try and teach them. own mind. I forgot that I was not With this resolve I went out and alone, and was only conscious of my spent two pounds of my little capital in error when I looked up and saw his books. It was a scanty library, but I small and deep-set eyes firmly fixed arrayed it on a table next my window upon me,

with pride and satisfaction. 'I turned “ Well, be it so, Gervois," said he, over the leaves of my dictionary, with calmly; " but let us part friends." something of the feeling with which a

I started, and felt my face and fore- settler in a new region of the globe head burning with a sudden flush of might have wandered through his little shame. There are impulses that sway territory. us sometimes stronger than our reason ; My grammars I regarded as mines but they are hurricanes that pass away whose ores were to enrich me; and quickly, and leave the bark of our my well-thumbed copy of Telamachus, destiny to sail on its course unswer- and an odd volume of Lessing's comevingly.

dies, were in themselves stores of plea" You'll come back to me one of sure and amusement. I suppose it is these days, and I will be just as ready a condition of the human mind that to say, Welcome l' as I now say makes our enjoyment in the ratio of "Good-bye ! good-bye!'” and, sorrow- the sacrifices they have cost us.

I fully repeating the last word as he know of myself, that since that day I went, he waved his hand to me, and now speak of, it has been my fortune withdrew.

to be wealthy, to possess around me For a moment I wished to follow every luxury my wish could compass, him, to say I know not what; but and yet I will own it, that I have never calmer thoughts prevailed, and I left gazed on the well-filled shelves of the house, and wandered homewards. costly library, replete with every comThat same evening I sent in my de- fort, with a tithe of the satisfaction I mand of resignation, and the next then contemplated the two or three morning came the reply according it. dog-eared volumes that lay before me. My first thought was a joyful sense My first few days of liberty were of liberty and freedom from a bondage passed in planning out the future, I

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