little, delicate creature, and thought that this Bruff-Brevet-major Bruff-she never could understand the military distinction-would make a very agreeable husband, and so, much to the astonishment of his gallant comrades, their large companion in arms became hers.

Their wonder it must be confessed was soon deeply tinged with envy, when they discovered that in his case, the shafts of Cupid were tipped with gold: a metal which so used, has the wonderful quality of immediately healing where it wounds; whence, as we have been informed, the acknowledged assuasive qualities of gold-beater's skin have been derived.

Mrs. Bruff, as the reader has already gathered, died fourteen months after her union with the powerful field-officer, leaving Jane at an age, equally unconscious of a mother's care and a mother's love. Bruff behaved in the best possible manner-was devoted to his child-maintained the establishment in Harley-street, to which the wife had no only taken a liking, but in which she died, and of which by means of her large property he had become possessed; thus retaining it as the memorial of his lady's taste, and the sanctuary for her daughter's education.

And all this went on; and Bruff, as a widower, did remarkably well, and little Jane grew up; and then, at the persuasion of several of his friends, who represented that during her childhood, so large an establishment, unless he married again, was useless. He placed her under the care of a relation of his late wife, Mrs. Amersham, who, with her husband, having no children of their own, were delighted to receive her and her governess, in the first intance, a nursery Bonne of the Windsor soap and bread-and-butter school, thence ascending to Miss Somebody, who was, in due time, succeeded by Mademoiselle Somebody much finer; during which period Bruff let his house, furnished, for a term of years, and having, by some carelessness of the well-wishers of the club to which he belonged, become a member of it, he became an habitué of the society in which the reader was first introduced to him.

When Jane came out-which she did, all mild and modest like the opening lily-gentle, tender, and unassuming-Mrs. Amersham presented her; and with her sixty thousand pounds she became "the belle of the season." At that period Bruff resumed the occupation of his residence, and for the last two years it had been placed under the surveillance of Mrs. Smylar.

Sir George Grindle, was of a different caste; their association, therefore, accidental in the first instance, was somewhat remarkable. Sir George, as the reader knows, had heen twice married; and, as he has already admitted, married first for money, and secondly for love, a sort of inversion of the ordinary course of things, for which one is not generally quite prepared. However it might be-and as it is charitable to suppose it so, let us say that it was-that before he was rich he could not marry whom he loved, and therefore a martyr to circumstances, like many thousands of his fellow-creatures he fulfilled the injunctions of others, rather than acted upon feelings of his own. However, of this first marriage was his son George the fruit.

George was his idol-spoiled as a child-humoured as a boy, and almost obeyed by his father as a man, he had, even before he was of his

age, cost his fond parent nearly thirty thousand pounds. It was this, and perceiving what desperate inroads these juvenile indiscretions were making upon Sir George's property, that induced the maternal uncle of Frank-the half-brother of George-to hint to that most worthy, excellent, and amiable young man, that he was not to permit himself to be depressed or borne down by apprehensions for the future, which it must be admitted with his prudential foresight he seriously entertained, not only for himself, but for George, who despised him; inasmuch as he, the aforesaid maternal uncle, would take care that at his death Frank should find even the nominal advantages of the elder brother" barring the title"-not in any degree injurious to him.

Having traced the matter and the motives thus far, we will relieve the reader, and begin afresh in the next chapter.

(To be continued.)

MARTIAL IN LONDON.

The Rail-road Engineer.

BY JAMES SMITII, ESQ.

THOUGH a rail-road, learned Rector,
Passes near your parish spire,
Think not, sir, your Sunday lecture
E'er will overwhelm'd expire.

Put not then your hopes in weepers,

Solid work my road secures,

Preach whate'er you will-my sleepers

Never will awaken yours.

These lines will be read with a deep interest, as being literally the last ever

written by their highly-gifted and deeply-lamented author.

KIND COUSIN TOM; OR, MEN AND MOTIVES.'

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BY DOUGLAS JERROLD.

POOR Jack Martin! Nay, we do him grievous wrong-for he was not poor; but rich, imperial, in his simple honesty. He wanted-excellent want!-a sense of poverty. He wore a whole coat-had rarely a fracture in his shoe-slept under a roof of nights, and could sometimes boast of five shillings in his pocket. Hence, Jack-ignorant Jack!— never dreamt of any worldly difference between himself and Tom Martin; his prosperous, and most ambitious cousin. "God bless you! he didn't see me," Jack would say to a companion, when having nodded, with a twinkling eye to Tom, the nod was unreturned, Tom quickening his pace, and looking into the sky, to avoid his pauper cousin. Depend on't, he never saw me-bless you!—one of the best fellows in the world; always so pleased to see me." And such was Jack's innocent belief: he could not understand that Tom-his old schoolfellow, his blood relation Tom-took any glory to himself from the seven hundred a year, and the very genteel acquaintance acquired by the grace of such an income, to the disadvantage of cousin Jackgood-tempered, merry-hearted, Jack; who, we may observe, defied fortune with seventy-five pounds per annum; terrible odds; the more especially, when increased by the addition of one wife and two children. Jack enjoyed-may we say as much-a small clerkship, and seemed one of the many, whom fortune forgets either for good or evil. Years and years passed, and Jack Martin was only a poor clerk.

Tom Martin was not to be so overlooked. He attacked fortune with a boldness, a laughing confidence, which when successful, is considered the certain evidence of genius: if it fail, it is rashness, ignorance, gross presumption. Jack and Tom started in life from the same point: Jack crept a step or two and then stuck fast: whilst Tom took ogre's strides into the pleasant places of the world. At times they met, or rather passed each other; nothing inducing Jack to suspect that there was the slightest distinction between them-that Tom, except from a growing defect of vision, could have failed to see him. "Poor fellow! he always used to be dim-sighted," Jack would say ; 'but, bless me! how very fast he walks. Capital fellow, cousin Tom--always very fond of me."

It was, in truth, an annoyance to Tom, that his extraordinary position in the world-his increasing reputation in the market, was wholly unacknowledged by his vulgar cousin Jack; who saw cousin Tomand would have seen only cousin Tom, had he been clothed in cloth of gold, and dubbed a knight. There was the same laugh-the same gripe of the hand-when Tom found it impossible to avoid the grasp the same kind salutation as in former years. Tom, when confronted by Jack, seemed humiliated by his very heartiness: his robust welcome awoke a recollection of former annoyance. Jack rose before the pro

sperous Tom the ghost of departed poverty.

What an excellent fellow, is my cousin Tom!" said Jack, warm from one of these meetings, to a brother clerk-a fellow vassal-in the office of Smith and Smith.

"What's he done, Jack?" asked his friend.

"Oh, he's done nothing," replied Jack; "but he's a fine fellow ! So anxious about me."

"Well, I am happy to hear it. I suppose he promises something, then ?"

"Not at all; but he has given me capital advice. Tom was always fond of me."

"Advice? And shall you take it, eh, Jack?" asked his compa

nion.

"I can't say I shall; but, poor fellow! he meant it well-a goodhearted creature! I'll tell you all about it. You see this morning, as I was going along Cheapside, I met Tom between Alderman Poger and Snarl, the common-councilman. 'What! cousin Tom,' says I, and caught hold of his hand-how are you? How are you, cousin Tom?” "And what said the alderman and—”

"Oh, they nodded and laughed to Tom, and no doubt, thinking I'd something particular to say to my cousin, they dropped his arm, and walked on.'

"And was your cousin," asked Jack's friend drily, "very much pleased at the meeting?"

"To be sure he was-haven't I told you, Tom was always so fond of me ?"

"Well, and his advice?"

66

Why, he asked me to walk down Gutter-lane with him; and when we had gone a little way, he stopped, and looking at me in his kind, good way, he said, Cousin John,-'

"John!

66 6

'Say Jack', says I, 'cousin Tom-no John between relations-Jack as always. Jack,' says he, what's your present salary?'-Seventyfive pounds a year,' says I. It's very little,' says he, and I couldn't deny it; very little for a man of your talents.' Why,' says I, not to say much about talents, I've known greater fools get a good deal more; but never mind that.'-' And you've a wife and two children?" says he. 'Ha! you've never come and taken a bit with us,' says I, as you promised: cousin Sally would be so happy'-' Well, I will come,' says he; but now to business. A wife and two children?' says he. Between you and me,' says I, there's flannel wanted for a third. It's a great pity,' says he. Can't be helped,' says I. 'However,' says Tom, this makes the matter more urgent. Cousin Jack, you're wasting your abilities in England-you are, indeed,' and poor fellow he seemed quite concerned as he spoke. What would you have me do, then?' says I. Do!' says he, why, I wouldn't have you stop another week in London! If you want to be a man,-they're the words of a friend, Jack,'—and here he squeezed my hand quite like a brother, go to New Zealand: there's no place like it-four harvests a year and no taxes-good bye! but do go to New Zealand.''

Cousin Tom, in his benevolent condescension had frequently promised to dine with cousin Jack, and, as Jack himself would insist upon calling her, cousin Sally. Twice had Tom named the day-twice had Jack mortgaged something of the comforts of the ensuing six days, that he might make the Sunday banquet more worthy of the patronage of Tom. Twice had cousin Sally-a plain, homely, little woman-been

thrown into a fluster by the promised advent of the important cousin Tom. More; Tom had been promised by Jack to the children as a most especial treat, and the little ones counted the days and then the hours for the arrival of the mysterious, the wonderful cousin Tom.

"Bless my heart, Sally!" cried cousin Jack, as the church clock struck two, "I hope nothing has happened to dear cousin Tom."

"Happened to him," cried cousin Sally, with lowering discontent, and an expressive look at a shoulder of mutton dished and soddening before the fire; whilst covered plates upon the hobs gave token of turnip-tops and dumplings-" what should happen to him?"

"He couldn't have mistaken me-I'm sure I said one o'clock," observed Jack, looking anxiously towards the window, where his two children, with noses flattened against the panes, were watching for cousin Tom.

"This is the third time he has made a fool of us," exclaimed cousin Sally.

"Don't talk in that way, Sally; if he don't come now, something must have happened to him. He promised to come, and he's so fond of me! An excellent creature, cousin Tom."

"The mutton's rags," said cousin Sally, frowning on the seething joint.

"Always a man of his word," said the husband.

"Turnip-tops not worth a farthing," continued cousin Sally. "Little forgetful, but has a heart of gold."

"Dumplings like lead."

"Here's cousin !" lisped one of the children," cousin Tom!" "No, it isn't," said the elder, "it's only a funeral."

For the third time, cousin Tom disappointed the hopes of the too sanguine Jack. In justice, however, to Tom, we must state that his promises to dine were rather inferred by Jack, than seriously made by the prosperous cousin.

"To-morrow's Sunday," Jack has cried, suddenly coming upon the unguarded Tom, at the time in high conversation with very genteel acquaintance," you must come-one o'clock-plain living you know -mutton and dumplings-you always liked dumplings-say you will come."

On this, Tom, like Hotspur, "all smarting" would make answer, he "would," or "could not," which answer Jack, in his gladness, immediately received as a serious pledge; and for this reason-a reason only discoverable by himself" Cousin Tom was so fond of him.”

Cousin Tom yearned for high connexions. Having fairly sweated to achieve the honour, cousin Tom was become a member of a small club. For many days he had hung upon the looks of the Honourable Alexander Pulington, a gentleman of somewhat confined means, and limited understanding. Happy moment! At precisely five o'clock in the afternoon, on the first of April, 18-, the hand of cousin Tom was for the first time suffered to grasp the two outstretched fingers of the Hon. Alexander Pulington. We are thus scrupulous as to the time, as it was the most important in Tom's existence. As the great Danish sculptor once called his birthday, that day on which he first entered Rome, so did Tom only begin to live from the squeeze permitted to him by the benignant Pulington!