her hair parted meekly over the forehead, which was rather low; the eyes and eyebrows beautiful; the nose such as Grecian sculptor scarce ever chipped out of Parian stone; the mouth small, and, when innocently smiling, displaying the loveliest pearly teeth, and calling out two charming attendant dimples on each fresh cheek; the ear a perfect little gem of an ear. (I adore ears-unadorned ears without any hideous ornaments dangling from them-pagodas, chandeliers, bunches of grapes, and similar monstrosities, such as ladies will hang from them-entr'autres my own wife, Mrs. W., who has got a pair of earrings her uncle, the dean, gave her, that really are as big as boot-jacks almost.) She was habited in a neat, closely-fitting silk dress of Parisian tartan silk, which showed off to advantage a figure that was perfect, and a waist that was ridiculously small. A more charming, candid, distinguished head it was impossible to see.

Mademoiselle Delval was a modest, clever, pleasing person, neatly attired in a striped something, I don't know the proper phrase; and Madame la Baronne was in a dress which I should decidedly call gingham.

When we sat down to the Potage Printanière, and I helped the baroness naturally first, addressing her respectfully by her title, the other two ladies began to laugh, and that brute, Fitzsimons, roared as if he was insane. "La Baronne de Saint Ménéhould!" cried out little Madame Nelval; " o par exemple! c'est maman, mon cher monsieur !" On which (though I was deucedly nettled, I must confess,) I said, that to be the mother of Madame Nelval, was the proudest title any lady could have, and so sneaked out of my mortification, with this, I flatter myself, not inelegant compliment. The ladies, one and all, declared that I spoke French like a Parisian, and so I ordered in the champagne; and very good Durognon's Sillery is too. Both the young ladies declared they detested it, but Madame Nelval, the elder, honestly owned that she liked it; and indeed I could not but remark that, in our favour doubtless, the two younger dames forgot their prejudices, and that their glasses were no sooner filled than they were empty.

Ah, how charming it was to see the shuddering, timid, nervous way in which the lovely Nelval, junior (let me call her at once by her Christian name of Virginie), turned away her little shrinking head as the waiter opened the bottles, and they went off with their natural exhilarating pop and fiz. At the opening of the first bottle, she flew into a corner; at the opening of the second, she ran to her mother's arms (hinnuleo similis quærenti pavidam montibus aviis matrem, as we used to say at Tooting), sweet sensibility! charming, timorous grace! but she took the liquor very kindly when it was opened, saying, as she turned up her fine eyes to Heaven, "Il n'y a rien qui m'agaçe les nerfs comme cela!" Agaçer les nerfs ! What a delicate expression! The good old lady told her to be calm, and made light of her terror. But though I had piqued myself on ordering the dinner, the little coquette soon set me down. She asked for the most wonderful things -for instance, she would have a salad of dandelion-the waiter was packed off to Covent Garden to seek for it. When the fish came, she turned to the waiter and said, "Comment? vous n'avez point de moules?" with the most natural air in the world, and as if muscles were always served at Parisian dinners, which, I suppose is the case.

And then at dessert, what must she remark but the absence of asparagus, which, I must confess, I had not ordered.

66

What," she said, turning round to my companion, "are there no asparagus, monsieur ?-No asparagus! ah, monsieur! c'est ma vie, mon bonheur que les asperges! J'en suis folle des asperges. Je les adore les asperges! Je ne mange que cela,―il me les faut, Monsieur Fitzsimons. Vite, garçon ! des asperges-des asperges à l'huile, entendez vous?"

No

We were both very much alarmed by this manifest excitement of Virginie's nerves; and the asparagus was sent for. O woman! you are some of you like the animals of the field in so far as this, that you do not know your power. Those who do can work wonders over us. man can resist them. We two were as timid, wretched, and trembling, until the asparagus came, as any mortal could be. It seemed as if we had committed a crime in not ordering the asparagus that Virginie adored. If she had proposed a pint of melted pearls, I think Fitz was the man to send off to Storr and Mortimer's, and have the materials bought. They (I don't mean the pearls, but the vegetables) came in about half an hour, and she ate them cold, as she said, with oil and vinegar; but the half hour's pause was a very painful one, and we vainly endeavoured to fill the odious vacuum with champagne. All the while, Fitzsimons, though he drank and kept nervously helping his neighbours right and left, was quite silent and frightened. I know which will be the better horse (as the phrase is) if he's ever married. I was of course collected, and kept putting in my jokes as usual, but I cannot help saying that I wished myself out of the premises, dreading to think what else Madame Virginie might ask for, and saying inwardly, "What would my poor Arabella say if she knew her scoundrel of a Lancelot was in such company?"

Well-it may have been the champagne, or it may have been the asparagus, though I never, I confess, remarked such a quality in the vegetable, it may, I say, have been the asparagus which createdwhat do you think?-a reconciliation between Virginie and Héloisethe Madame Delval before mentioned. This is a delicate matter, but it appeared the ladies had had a difference in the morning about a ribbon, a fichu, or some such matter doubtless, and they had not spoken all dinner time.

But after a bottle of sherry, four of Sillery (which we all took fairly, no flinching, no heel-taps, glass and glass about), after coffee and curaçoa, and after the asparagus, a reconciliation took place, Héloise looked at Virginie, Virginie looked at Héloise, the latter rose from her chair, tottered towards her friend, and they were in each others arms in a minute. Old Madame Nelval looked quite pleased at the scene, and said, smiling, to us, "Elle a si bon cœur, ma fille!" Oh those mothers! they are all the same. Not that she was wrong in this instance. The two young ladies embraced with the warmest cordiality, the quarrel about the ribbon was forgotten, the two young hearts were united once more; and though that selfish brute, Fitzsimons, who has no more heart than a bed-post, twiddled his eternal moustache, and yawned over the scene, I confess I was touched by this little outbreak of feeling, and this glimpse into the history of the hearts of the young persons, and drank a glass of curaçoa to old Madame Nelval with a great deal of pleasure.

But oh! fancy our terror, when all of a sudden Héloise, weeping on her friend's neck, began to laugh and to cry, and burst out shrieking into a fit of hysterics! When women begin hysterics a tremor seizes me- -I become mad myself I have had my wife and mother-inlaw both in hysterics on the same rug, and I know what it is-the very sound of the whoo-oo-oo drives me wild. I have heard it imitated in theatres, and have rushed out in a frenzy. "Water! water!" gasped Virginie (we had somehow not had any all dinner-time), I tumbled out of the room, upsetting three waiters who were huddled at the door (and be hanged to them); "water," roared I, rushing down stairs, upsetting boots, and alarmed chamber-maids came panting in with a jug. "What will they think of us?" thought I, trembling with emotionthey will think we have murdered the poor young lady, and yet on my honour and conscience I-Oh why did I come-what would Arabella say if she knew?" I thought of the police coming in, of paragraphs in the paper beginning, "Two ruffians of gentlemanly exterior were brought before Mr. Jardine," &c., it was too horrible-if I had had my hat I would have taken a cab off the stand, and driven down to my wife at Bognor that minute; but I hadn't-so I went up to fetch it.

Héloise was lying on the sofa now, a little calmer; Madame Delval and the chamber-maid were being kind to her: as for that brute, Fitzsimon, he was standing in one of the windows, his legs asunder, his two fists thrust into the tail pockets of his brass buttoned coat, whistling, "Suoni la Tromba," the picture of heartless, shameless, indifference.

As soon as the maid was gone, and I was come in, Madame Virginie must of course begin hysterics too-they always do, these women. She turned towards me with an appealing look (she had been particularly attentive to me at dinner, much more than to Fitzsimons, whom she bouded the whole time)-she gave me an appealing look-and struck up too.

I couldn't bear it. I flung myself down on a chair, and beginning to bang my forehead, gasped out "Oh Heavens! a cab, a cab!" "We'll have a coach. Go back with them," said Fitz, coming swaggering up.

"Go back with thein?" said I, "I'll never see them again as long as I live." No more I would go back with them. The carriage was called (the hysterics ceased the very moment Fitz flung open the window and the cab-stand opposite could hear)-the ladies went out. In vain good old Madame Nelval looked as if she expected my arm. In vain Virginie cast her appealing look. I returned it them with the most stony indifference, and falling back upon my chair, thought of my poor Arabella. The coach drove off. I felt easier as the rattle of the departing wheels died away in the night, and I got up to go. "How glad I am it's over," thought I, on the stair; "if ever I go to a partie fine again may I

*

"I beg your parding, sir," said the water, touching my elbow just as I was at the hotel door.

"What is it," says I.

"The bill, sir," says he, with a grin.

"The bill, sir?" I exclaimed; "why it's Captain Fitzsimons's dinner!"
"I beg your parding, sir, you ordered it," answered the man.
"But, good Heavens! you know Captain Fitzsimons ?"

"We do, sir, precious well too. The capting owes master two underd

pound," answered the wretched official, and thrust the document into

my hand.

And I must say that the bill, considered as a bill, was moderate, but I had better have dined off that Irish stew at the club.

THE GLADNESS OF MAY.

'Tis May again, 'tis May again, the time of happy hours,
When Nature wears her fairest robe of young and dewy flow'rs,
When gentle morn wakes from the east as rosy as the sky,
And brooks are laughing in the meads, and birds are singing by.
Visions sweet as summer's eve, or autumn's glowing day,
Are rushing on the mind of youth as lovely as they're gay,
Hopes prized more than coral lip, or maiden's blushing vow,
Are coming back to cheer old age, and deck its snowy brow.
Kingcups bathed in golden light, their tender breasts unfold,
And verdant plains burst on the sight, like beds of waving gold,
Violets from the mossy banks in purple clusters rise,
And daisies one by one begin to show their starry eyes.
Leaves nursed in the noontide's warmth, and kissed by the dew,
Are woven into forest crowns that mock the emerald's hue,
And twining garlands round about the wasting walls of yore,
As doth the heart to memory, when life's bright days are o'er.
Blossoms fair as orient pearls adorn the orchard trees,
And odours from their honied lips add fragrance to the breeze,
Beauty's soft and radiant glow is mantling all the grain,
And from the earth a promise comes of fruit and corn again.
Birds rich in plumage, and in voice, from every wood and grove,
In joyous concert carol forth the melody of love,
Zephyrs wild as music's tone upon their pinions bring,
Sweet echos to the list'ning ear, and incense of the spring.
Insects bright as Tyrian dyes wake from their torpid sleep,
As countless as the ocean sands that wash the rocky steep,
Lambs in little playful groups are scattered o'er the lea,
And squirrels from the beechen boughs dance on from tree to tree.
Clouds calmly hung in silver light like folds of fleecy snow,
Are shadowed in the silent streams that by the valleys flow,
Now cradled by the swelling waves, now on the shore at play,
Now flitting round the lofty bills as blithsome as a fay.
'Tis May again, 'tis May again, the time of happy hours,
When nature wears her fairest robe of young and dewy flow'rs,
When gentle morn wakes from the east as rosy as the sky,
And brooks are laughing in the meads, and birds are singing by.
H. L.

to

REMINISCENCES OF A MEDICAL STUDENT.

No. XVII.

MARIANNE ESTERLING.

(Concluded.)

ABOUT forty miles from the city of our tale, a strait divides a low and very beautiful isle from the mainland. In this isle is a wide bay, which is completely landlocked, and peaceful as a pond. Opposite to it, a tongue of land shoots out flat and level for about half a mile from the abrupt hilly range of coast. The usual shore-road runs round close under the hills, so that this little peninsula is quite out of the way and untrodden. It is covered with furze, bramble, wild rose, and other bushes, with patches of open green sward here and there, and toward the outer point a small, steep, rocky hill rises, shaggy with dwarf oaks, and other low trees. On the southern side of this again, two large old oak-trees grow, and between them, but nearer to one than to the other, has been erected a small Gothic villa, with a garden of about a couple of acres in extent, attached. This was built by the owner of the land as a speculation, and offered to be let at the rent of forty pounds a year. Here Basil took up his residence with his bride, about the middle of spring. He had it furnished according to his own fancy, and had removed to it his books, instruments, and all his other moveable property. He earnestly entreated Mrs. Esterling that she would cease her occupation, and for the future make her home with them. He insisted much upon this, but she was inflexible-she would remain and live in her old way, in which she was sure to be the happiest, and never, so long as she could earn her living honourably, would become dependant on any one. With this he was forced to remain contented for the time.

Than this home of their adoption, no spot could be more beautiful or sequestered. With the exception of a couple of servants, no one but themselves came near the cottage, and days often would pass without any person being seen on the road that wound alongside under the high land to the rear. At the bottom of the bay in the island opposite was a sunny little town-a thriving place for the coasting and fishing trade, and numerous sloops, and small vessels of other descriptions were continually gliding about over the glassy waters of the strait.

And here they dwelt together in nearly perfect delight. They were continually with each other; one of them was never to be seen alone, and they were always cheerful and gladsome, happiness beaming in their countenances. Young as they were, they both possessed the peculiarity, of appearing to the eye much younger. Marianne seemed a mere girl, while he might have been deemed a sedately-disposed lad of sixteen, or thereabouts, and any one who met them as they rode out joyously together along the neighbouring roads, might have considered them brother and sister, the children of some gentleman in the vicinity.

But they did not confine themselves to this spot alone; all the neighbouring places worthy of remark they visited, and made frequent trips together to the city (to which, from the little town opposite, there was a rapid steam-conveyance) to purchase new books, view picture