ing their dusky figures until she was obliged to rise and light a candle, or go and sit at the open window and feel a companionship in the bright stars. At these times, she would recall the old house and the window at which she nsed to sit alone; and then she would think of poor Kit and all his kindness, until the tears came into her eyes, and she would weep and smile together. Often and anxiously at this silent hour, her thoughts reverted to her grandfather, and she would wonder how much he remembered of their former life, and whether he was ever really mindful of the change in their condition and of their late helplessness and destitution. When they were wandering about, she seldom thought of this, but now she could not help considering what would become of them if he fell sick, or her own strength were to fail her. He was very patient and willing, happy to execute any little task, and glad to be of use; but he was in the same listless state, with no prospect of improvement a mere child-a poor, thoughtless, vacant creature-a harmless fond old man, susceptible of tender love and regard for her, and of pleasant and painful impressions, but alive to nothing more. It made her very sad to know that this was so-so sad to see it that sometimes when he sat idly by, smiling and nodding to her when she looked round, or when he caressed some little child and carried it to and fro, as he was fond of doing by the hour together, perplexed by its simple questions, yet patient under his own infirmity, and indeed almost conscious of it too, and humbled even before the mind of an infant, so sad it made her to see him thus, that she would burst into tears, and then drawing into some secret place, fall down upon her knees and pray that he might be restored. But the bitterness of her grief was not in beholding him in this condition, when he was at least content and tranquil, nor in her solitary meditations on his altered state, though these were trials for a young heart. Cause for deeper and heavier sorrow was yet to come. One evening, a holiday night with them, Nell and her grandfather went out to walk. They had been rather closely confined for some days, and the weather being warm, they strolled a long distance. Clear of the town, they took a footpath which struck through some pleasant fields, judging that it would terminate in the road they quitted and enable them to return that way. It made, however, a much wider circuit than they had sup posed, and thus they were tempted onward until sunset, when they reached the track of which they were in search, and stopped to rest. It had been gradually getting overcast, and now the sky was dark and lowering, save where the glory of the departing sun piled up masses of gold and burning fire, decaying embers of which gleamed here and there through the black veil, and shone redly down upon the earth. The wind began to moan in hollow murmurs, as the sun went down carrying glad day elsewhere; and a train of dull clouds coming up against it, menaced thunder and lightning. Large drops of rain soon began to fall, and, as the storm clouds came sailing onward, others supplied the void they left behind and spread over all the sky. Then was heard the low rumbling of distant thunder, then the lightning quivered, and then the darkness of an hour seemed to have gathered in an instant. Fearful of taking shelter beneath a tree or hedge, the old man and the child hurried along the high road, hoping to find some house in which they could seek a refuge from the storm, which had now burst forth in earnest, and every moment increased in violence. Drenched with the pelting rain, confused by the deafening thunder, and bewildered by the glare of the forked lightning, they would have passed a solitary house without being aware of its vicinity, had not a man, who was standing at the door, called lustily to them to enter. "Your ears ought to be better than other folks' at any rate, if you make so little of the chance of being struck blind," he said, retreating from the door, and shading his eyes with his hands as the jagged lightning came again. "What were you going past for, eh?" he added, as he closed the door and led the way along a passage to a room behind. "We did'nt see the house, sir, till we heard you calling," Nell replied. 66 No wonder," said the man, "with this lightning in one's eyes, by-the-by. You had better stand by the fire here, and dry yourselves a bit. You can call for what you like if you want any thing. If you don't want any thing, you're not obliged to give an order, don't be afraid of that. This is a public house, that's all. The Valiant Soldier is pretty well known hereabouts." "Is this house called the Valiant Soldier, sir?" asked Nell. "I thought every body knew that," replied the landlord. "Where have you come from if you don't know the Valiant Soldier as well as the church catechism? This is the Valiant Soldier by James Groves-Jem Groves-honest Jem Groves, as is a man of unblemished moral character, and has a good dry skittle ground. If any man has got any thing to say again Jem Groves, let him say it to Jem Groves, and Jem Groves can accommodate him with a customer on any terms from four pound a side to forty." With these words, the speaker tapped himself on the waistcoat to intimate that he was the Jem Groves so highly eulogised, sparred scientifically at a counterfeit Jem Groves, who was sparring at society in general from a black frame over the chimney-piece, and applying a half-emptied glass of spirits and water to his lips, drank Jem Groves's health. The night being warm, there was a large screen drawn across the room, for a barrier against the heat of the fire. It seemed as if somebody on the other side of this screen had been insinuating doubts of Mr. Groves's prowess, and had thereby given rise to these egotistical expressions, for Mr. Groves wound up his defiance by giving a loud knock upon it with his knuckles and pausing for a reply from the other side. There an't many men," said Mr. Groves, no answer being returned, "who would venture to cross Jem Groves under his own roof. There's only one man, I know, that has nerve enough for that, and that man's not a hundred mile from here neither. But he's worth a dozen men, and I let him say of me whatever he likes in consequence-he knows that." hoarse voice bade Mr. Groves "hold his noise and light In return for this complimentary address, a very gruff a candle." And the same voice remarked that the same gentleman "needn't waste his breath in brag, for most people knew pretty well what sort of stuff he was made of." "Nell, they're-they're playing cards," whispered the old man, suddenly interested. "Don't you hear them?" "Look sharp with that candle," said the voice; "it's as much as I can do to see the pips on the cards as it is; and get this shutter closed as quick as you can, will you? Your beer will be the worse for to-night's thunder I ex 209 pect.-Game. Seven-and-sixpence to me, old Isaac." Do you know either of us? This side of the screen is "I haven't seen such a storm as this," said a sharp cracked voice of most disagreeable quality, when a tremendous peal of thunder had died away," since the night when old Luke Withers won thirteen times running, upon the red. We all said he had the devil's luck and his own, and as it was the kind of night for the devil to be out and busy, I suppose he was looking over his shoulder, if any body could have seen him." "Ah!" returned the gruff voice; "for all old Luke's winning through thick and thin of late years, I remember the time when he was the unluckiest and unfortunatest of men. He never took a dice-box in his hand, or held a card, but he was plucked, pigeoned, and cleaned out completely." "Do you hear what he says?" whispered the old man. "Do you hear that, Nell?" The child saw with astonishment and alarm that his whole appearance had undergone a complete change. His face was flushed and eager, his eyes were strained, his teeth set, his breath came short and thick, and the hand he laid upon her arm trembled so violently that she shook beneath its grasp. "Bear witness," he muttered, looking upward, "that I always said it; that I knew it, dreamed of it, felt it was the truth, and that it must be so! What money have we, Nell? Come, I saw you with money yesterday. What money have we? Give it to me." "No, no, let me keep it, grandfather," said the frightened child. "Let us go away from here. Do not mind the rain. Pray let us go." 66 "Give it to me, I say," returned the old man fiercely. Hush, hush, don't cry, Nell. If I spoke sharply, dear, I didn't mean it. It's for thy good. I have wronged thee, Nell, but I will right thee yet, I will indeed. Where is the money?" "Do not take it," said the child. it, dear. For both our sakes let me keep it, or let me Pray do not take throw it away-better let me throw it away, than you take it now. Let us go; do let us go." "Give me the money," returned the old man, "I must have it. There-there-that's my dear Nell. I'll right thee one day, child, I'll right thee, never fear!" She took from her pocket a little purse. He seized it with the same rapid impatience which had characterized his speech, and hastily made his way to the other side of the screen. It was impossible to restrain him, and the trembling child followed close behind. The landlord had placed a light upon the table, and was engaged in drawing the curtain of the window. The speakers whom they had heard were two men, who had a pack of cards and some silver money between them, while upon the screen itself the games they had played were scored in chalk. The man with the rough voice was a burly fellow of middle age, with large black whiskers, broad cheeks, a coarse wide mouth, and bull neck, which was pretty freely displayed as his shirt collar was only confined by a loose red neckerchief. hat, which was of a brownish-white, and had beside him He wore his a thick knotted stick. The other man, whom his companion had called Isaac, was of a more slender figurestooping, and high in the shoulders-with a very ill-favoured face, and a most sinister and villanous squint. "Now old gentleman," said Isaac, looking round. MUSEUM.-Oct. 1840. "No offence, I hope," returned the old man. "But by G-, sir, there is offence," said the other inof gentlemen who are particularly engaged." terrupting him," when you intrude yourself upon a couple ing anxiously at the cards, "I thought that—" other. "Now bully boy," said the stout man, raising his speak?" eyes from his cards for the first time, "can't you let him neutral until he knew which side of the question the icking as nearly as he could, in his shrill voice, the "Well then, do it, will you?" said the landlord. which seemed to threaten a prolongation of this controMr. List's squint assumed a portentous character, versy, when his companion, who had been looking sharply at the old man, put a timely stop to it. "That is what the gentleman may have civilly meant to ask if he might eager hand, and then throwing it down upon the table, "Oh! That indeed-" said Isaac; "if that's what the the gentleman's little purse? gentleman meant, I beg the gentleman's pardon. Is this Rather a light purse," added Isaac, throwing it into the A very pretty little purse. gentleman for half an hour or so." air and catching it dexterously, "but enough to amuse a "We'll make a four-handed game of it, and take in Groves," said the stout man. "Come Jemmy." was well used to such little parties, approached the table The landlord, who conducted himself like one who and took his seat. her grandfather aside, and implored him, even then, to The child, in a perfect agony, drew come away. "Come; and we may be so happy," said the child. tune brought us here!" her mouth," fortune will not bear chiding. We must not 66 Nell, sit thee down and look on. 27 the luck would have turned on my side. Yes, it's as plain as the marks upon the cards. See here-and there -and here again." "Put them away," urged the child. "Try to forget them." all for thee-all-every penny. I don't tell them, no, no, or else they wouldn't play, dreading the chance that such a cause must give me. Look at them. See what they are, and what thou art. Who doubts that we must win!" "The gentleman has thought better of it, and isn't coming," said Isaac, making as though he would rise Try to forget them!" he rejoined, raising his hagfrom the table. "I'm sorry the gentleman's daunted-gard face to hers, and regarding her with an incredulous nothing venture, nothing have-but the gentleman knows stare. "To forget them! How are we ever to grow rich if I forget them?" best." Why I am ready. You have all been slow but me," said the old man. "I wonder who's more anxious to begin than I." . As he spoke he drew a chair to the table; and the other three closing round it at the same time, the game commenced. The child sat by, and watched its progress with a troubled mind. Regardless of the run of luck, and mindful only of the desperate passion which had its hold upon her grandfather, losses and gains were to her alike. Exulting in some brief triumph, or cast down by a defeat, there he sat so wild and restless, so feverishly and intensely anxious, so terribly eager, so ravenous for the paltry stakes, that she could have almost better borne to see him dead. And yet she was the innocent cause of all this torture, and he, gambling with such a savage thirst for gain as the most insatiable gambler never felt, had not one selfish thought! On the contrary, the other three-knaves and gamesters by their trade-while intent upon their game, were yet as cool and quiet as if every virtue had been centered in their breasts. Sometimes one would look up to smile to another, or to snuff the feeble candle, or to glance at the lightning as it shot through the open window and fluttering curtain, or to listen to some louder peal of thunder than the rest, with a kind of momentary impatience, as if it put him out; but there they sat, with a calm indifference to every thing but their cards, perfect philosophers in appearance, and with no greater show of passion or excitement than if they had been made of stone. The storm had raged for full three hours; the lightning had grown fainter and less frequent; the thunder, from seeming to roll and break above their heads, had gradually died away into a deep hoarse distance; and still the game went on, and still the anxious child was quite forgotten. CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH. At length the play came to an end, and Mr. Isaac List rose the only winner. Mat and the landlord bore their losses with professional fortitude. Isaac pocketed his gains with the air of a man who had quite made up his mind to win, all along, and was neither surprised nor pleased. Nell's little purse was exhausted; but, although it lay empty by his side, and the other players had now risen from the table, the old man sat poring over the cards, dealing them as they had been dealt before, and turning up the different hands to see what each man would have held if they had still been playing. He was quite absorbed in this occupation, when the child drew near and laid her hand upon his shoulder, telling him it was near midnight. "See the curse of poverty, Nell," he said, pointing to the packs he had spread out upon the table. If I could have gone on a little longer, only a little longer, The child could only shake her head. No, no, Nell," said the old man, patting her cheek; "they must not be forgotten. We must make amends for this as soon as we can. Patience patience, and we'll right thee yet, I promise thee. Lose to-day, win tomorrow. And nothing can be won without anxiety and care-nothing. Come, I am ready." "Do you know what the time is said Mr. Groves, who was smoking with his friends. "Past twelve o'clock-" -"And a rainy night," added the stout man. "The Valiant Soldier, by James Groves. Good beds. Cheap entertainment for man and beast," said Mr. Groves, quoting his sign-board. "Half past twelve o'clock." It's very late," said the uneasy child. "I wish we had gone before. What will they think of us! It will be two o'clock by the time we get back. What would it cost, sir, if we stopped here?" "Two good beds, one-and-sixpence; supper and beer one shilling; total, two shillings and sixpence," replied the Valiant Soldier. Now, Nell had still the piece of gold sewn in her dress; and when she came to consider the lateness of the hour, and the somnolent habits of Mrs. Jarley, and to imagine the state of consternation in which they would certainly throw that good lady by knocking her up in the middle of the night-and when she reflected, on the other hand, that if they remained where they were, and rose early in the morning, they might get back before she awoke, and could plead the violence of the storm by which they had been overtaken, as a good apology for their absence-she decided, after a great deal of hesitation, to remain. She therefore took her grandfather aside, and telling him she had still enough left to defray the cost of their lodging, proposed that they should stay there for the night. 66 We will decide to stop here if you please," said Nell, turning hastily to the landlord. "I think that's prudent," returned Mr. Groves. You shall have your suppers directly." Accordingly, when Mr. Groves had smoked his pipe out, knocked out the ashes, and placed it carefully in a corner of the fire-place, with the bowl downwards, he brought in the bread and cheese, and beer, with many high encomiums upon their excellence, and bade his guests to fall to, and make themselves at home. Nell and her grandfather ate sparingly, for both were occupied with their own reflections; the other gentlemen, for whose constitutions beer was too weak and tame a liquid, consoled themselves with spirits and tobacco. As they would leave the house very early in the morning, the child was anxious to pay for their entertainment before they retired to bed. But as she felt the necessity of concealing her little hoard from her grandfather, and had to change the piece of gold, she took little bar. it secretly from its place of concealment, and em- old passion awakened again in her grandfather's breast, braced an opportunity of following the landlord when and to what further distraction it might tempt him, he went out of the room, and tendered it to him in the Heaven only knew. What fears their absence might have occasioned already! Persons might be seeking for them even then. Would they be forgiven in the morning, or turned adrift again? Oh! why had they stopped in that strange place. It would have been better, under any circumstances, to have gone on! "Will you give me the change here, if you please?" said the child. Mr. James Groves was evidently surprised, and looked at the money, and rung it, and looked at the child, and at the money again, as though he had a mind to inquire how she came by it. The coin being genuine, however, and changed at his house, he probably felt, like a wise landlord, that it was no business of his. At any rate, he counted out the change, and gave it her. The child was returning to the room where they had passed the evening, when she fancied she saw a figure just gliding in at the door. There was nothing but a long dark passage between this door and the place where she had changed the money, and, being very certain that no person had passed in or out while she stood there, the thought struck her that she had been watched. But by whom? When she re-entered the room, she found its inmates exactly as she had left them. The stout fellow lay upon two chairs, resting his head on his hand, and the squinting man reposed in a similar attitude on the opposite side of the table. Between them sat her grandfather, looking intently at the winner with a kind of hungry admiration, and hanging upon his words as if he were some superior being. She was puzzled for a moment, and looked round to see if any one else was there. No. Then she asked her grandfather in a whisper whether any body had left the room while she was absent. "No," he said, "nobody." It must have been her fancy then; and yet it was strange, that, without any thing in her previous thoughts to lead to it, she should have imagined this figure so very distinctly. She was still wondering and thinking of it, when a girl came to light her to bed. At last, sleep gradually stole upon her-a broken, fitful sleep, troubled by dreams of falling from high towers, and waking with a start and in great terror. A deeper slumber followed this-and then-What! That figure in the room! A figure was there. Yes, she had drawn up the blind to admit the light when it should dawn, and there, between the foot of the bed and the dark casement, it crouched and slunk along, groping its way with noiseless hands, and stealing round the bed. She had no voice to cry for help, no power to move, but lay still, watching it. On it came-on, silently and stealthily, to the bed's head. The breath so near her pillow, that she shrunk back into it, lest those wandering hands should light upon her face. Back again it stole to the window-then turned its head towards her. The dark form was a mere blot upon the lighter darkness of the room, but she saw the turning of the head, and felt and knew how the eyes looked and the ears listened. There it remained, motionless as she. At length, still keeping the face towards her, it busied its hands in something, and she heard the chink of money. Then, on it came again, silent and stealthy as before, and, replacing the garments it had taken from the bedside, dropped upon its hands and knees, and crawled away. How slowly it seemed to move, now that she could hear but not see it, creeping along the floor! It reached the door at last, and stood upon its feet. The steps creaked beneath its noiseless tread, and it was gone. There was the dreadful shadow, pausing at the bottom of the steps. The old man took leave of the company at the same time, and they went up stairs together. It was a great, rambling house, with dull corridors and wide staircases which the flaring candles seemed to make more gloomy. The first impulse of the child was to fly from the She left her grandfather in his chamber, and followed terror of being by herself in that room-to have someher guide to another, which was at the end of a passage, body by-not to be alone-and then her power of speech and approached by some half-dozen crazy steps. This would be restored. With no consciousness of having was prepared for her. The girl lingered a little while to moved, she gained the door. talk, and tell her grievances. She had not a good place, she said; the wages were low, and the work was hard. She was going to leave it in a fortnight; the child She could not pass it: she might have done so, percouldn't recommend her to another, she supposed? In- haps, in the darkness, without being seized, but her Ideed she was afraid another would be difficult to get, blood curdled at the thought. The figure stood quite after living there, for the house had a very indifferent still, and so did she; not boldly, but of necessity; character; there was far too much card-playing, and for going back into the room was hardly less terrible such like. She was very much mistaken if some of the than going on. people who caine there oftenest were quite as honest as they might be, but she wouldn't have it known that she had said so, for the world. Then there were some rambling allusions to a rejected sweetheart, who had threatened to go a soldiering-a final promise of knocking at the door early in the morning-and "Good night." The child did not feel comfortable when she was left alone. She could not help thinking of the figure stealing through the passage down stairs; and what the girl had said did not tend to re-assure her. The men were very ill-looking. They might get their living by robbing and murdering travellers. Who could tell? Reasoning herself out of these fears, or losing sight of them for a little while, there came the anxiety to which the adventures of the night gave rise. Here was the The rain beat fast and furiously without, and ran down in plashing streams from the thatched roof. Some summer insect, with no escape into the air, flew blindly to and fro, beating his body against the walls and ceiling, and filling the silent place with his murmurs. The figure moved again. The child involuntarily did the same. Once in her grandfather's room, she would be safe. It crept along the passage until it came to the very door she longed so ardently to reach. The child, in the agony of being so near, had almost darted forward with the design of bursting into the room and closing it behind her, when the figure stopped again. The idea flashed suddenly upon her-what if it entered there, and had a design upon the old man's life! She turned faint and sick. It did. It went in. There was "Phoo! nonsense!" ejaculated my uncle. a light inside. The figure was now within the chamber, is a document." and she, still dumb-quite dumb, and almost senselessstood looking on. The door was partly open. Not knowing what she meant to do, but meaning to preserve him or be killed herself, she staggered forward and looked in. What sight was that which met her view! The bed had not been lain on, but was smooth and empty. And at a table sat the old man himself, the only living creature there, his white face pinched and sharpened by the greediness which made his eyes unnaturally bright, counting the money of which his hands had robbed her. From the New Monthly Magazine. BY THOMAS HOOD, ESQ. "Mistress of herself tho' China fall."-POPE. “I CAN'T understand it," said my uncle, throwing down on the table the pamphlet he had been reading, and looking up over the fireplace, at the great picture of Canton, painted by his elder brother, when he was mate of an East Indiaman. My aunt was seated beside my uncle, with her cotton-box, playing at working; and cousin Tom was working at playing, in a corner. As for my father and myself, we had dropped in as usual after a walk, to take our tea, which through an old connection with Cathay, was certain to be first-rate at the cottage. Why on earth," continued my uncle, "why on earth we should go to war about the opium business quite passes my comprehension." "And mine too," chimed in my aunt, whose bent it was to put in a word and put out an argument, as often as she had an opportunity; "I always thought opium was a lulling, soothing sort of thing, more likely to compose people's passions than to stir them up." My uncle looked at the speaker with much the same expression as that of the great girl in Wilkie's picture, who is at once frowning and smiling at the boy's grotesque mockery of the Blind Fiddler-for my aunt's allusion to the sedative qualities of opium was amusing in itself, but provoking, as interrupting the discourse. The sulphur question," she continued, " is quite a different thing. That's all about brimstone and combustibles; and it would only be of a piece, if we were to send our men of war, and frigates, and fire-ships to bombard Mount Vesuvius." "A chop "Well, it's not my fault," retorted my aunt," if things abroad are called by their wrong names. What is a chop, then, in Chinese-I mean a pork or mutton oneis it called a document ?" My uncle gave a look upwards, worthy of Job himself. He was sorely tempted-but he translated the rising English oath into a French shrug and grimace. My father tried to mend matters as usual. "After all, brother," he said, " my sister's mistake was natural, and womanly-especially in a mistress of a house, who has to think occasionally of chops and steaks. Besides, she has had greater blunderers to keep her in countenanceyou remember the needless resentment there was about the Barbarian Eye.' "To be sure he does," said my aunt," and why should I be expected to know Chinese, any more than Lord Melbourne or Lord Palmerston, or Lord-Knows-Who ? especially when it's such a difficult language besides, and a single letter stands for a whole chapter, like the Egyptian hieroglyphics." "But what says the pamphleteer?" said my father, deliberately putting on his spectacles, and taking up the brochure from the table. "Why he says," replied my uncle, " that opium is a baneful drug, that it produces the most demoralizing effects on the consumers; and that we have no right to go to war to force a noxious article down the throats of our fellow-creatures." "No, nor a wholesome one neither," returned my father, "as the judge said to the woman when she killed her child for not taking its physic. But what have we here-a return of our exports to the celestial empire ?" "The author means to imply," said my uncle, "that if the Chinese did not chew and smoke so much opium, they would have more money to lay out on our Birming ham and Manchester manufactures." "Pretty nonsense, indeed!" exclaimed my aunt. "As if the Chinese could smoke printed cottons and calicoes, and chew Brummagen hardware, and cutlery, like the ostriches!" "I believe it is but a Brummagen argument after all," said my father, "a mercantile interest plated over with morality. It's the old story in the spelling-book,— There's nothing like leather.' The pamphleteer and Commissioner Lin are both of a mind in condemning a drug in which they are not druggists; but how comes it that the deleterious demoralising effects of the article are found out only in 1840?-The opium trade with China is of long standing-it is as old as-" 66 "I should like to see it," said my father, in his quietest Robinson Crusoe," cried a small voice from the cortone, and with his gravest face, for he was laughing in-ner of the room, where Cousin Tom had been listening to the discourse and making a paper kite at the same wardly at the proposed grand display of pyrotechnics! 66 To go back," resumed my uncle, "to the very beginning of the business; first, we have Captain Elliot, who wishes to give the Chinese admiral a chop-" "And a very civil thing of him too," remarked my aunt. time. "Robinson Fiddlesticks!" cried my aunt, "boys oughtn't to talk about politics. What in the world has opium-chewing to do with a desert island?" "He had a whole cargo of it," muttered Tom, “when he went on his voyage to China." 64 The lad's right," said my father. "Go, Tom, and fetch the book,"-and Defoe's novel was produced in a twinkling! "The lad's right," repeated my father, reading aloud from the book,- here's the very passage. From Sumatra,' says Crusoe, we went to Siam, where we exchanged some of our wares for opium and some arrack-the. first a commodity which bears a great price |