a song of words, but only the spontaneous out-pouring of a pure and rapturous life. Perhaps angels have a key to it; for surely none less pure than they, might hope to interpret all the mysteries of the infant's heart. But however this may be, one thing is not matter of conjecture; we know that this soft buzzing of childhood soliloquizing in its play is most distinctly audible there, where the shouts and clamors of striving multitudes and warring hosts never reach; and that it mingles much of sweetness in the swelling symphony that rises up perpetually from nature's choir, and from holy and happy beings throughout the illimit able clusters of rejoicing and adoring spheres.

Delight and wonder shine in his roving eye and on his glowing cheek; and a smile of confidence and reality, that has never yet been shadowed by the black wing of one ill-omened doubt, plays on his peaceful brow. All is new and charming to him, as he comes forward through the gateway of life. This is the first summer that he has noticed the beauty of the flowers, and even the pebble that sparkles at his feet is more to him than the sun to many an older mind. The summer-house at the bottom of the garden seems to him a great way off; and the wall that encloses the paternal acres, to his satisfied soul, embraces all fulness, and seems like the boundaries of being.

Occasionally he pauses, as if the Spirit of GOD were gently whispering some message of love to his soul, or some celestial vision were flashing across his unruffled mind, like the sudden gleam of a meteor on the mirror of the placid lake.

I almost weep as I trace his tiny foot-prints on the soft ground; for the thought comes over me, that even as I am watching him, some elder brother once took reverent note of me, when my angel beheld the face of my Father who is in Heaven, and when my every pulse kept time and tune with the Perfect Will.

But now his father and mother, soon missing him when he is absent from their sight, come out arm-in-arm to meet him; leading along his younger sister, just learning to walk; and he, clapping his little hands, and uttering a shout of joy as he sees them approaching, darts forward to meet them, and is soon folded in their loving embrace. So, thought I, should my soul rush toward the open bosom of its heavenly Parent. And so, doubtless, do fly to his embrace the myriads of little children, who speed away from our lovely tabernacles, with a haste that seems so cruel to us who are left behind. Have they not caught a glimpse of His smile, and said in spirit, 'Let me leave this lower world untried, for be it as beautiful and good as it may, my Father, I had rather dwell with Thee;' till God has heard their cry and taken them home? Then, their being knows no night. But it is otherwise with those who stay. And yet I know not which is to be preferred; to live on through the Night to a New Morn, or to have our first Dawn sealed to immortality.

II. THE NIGHT.

At the close of one of the golden days of autumn, a Sister and Brother, clad in deep mourning for both their parents, who had died within the year, ascended, hand-in-hand, an irregular and rocky eminence, that rising abruptly from the road-side directly opposite to a neat white cot

tage, which they called home, commanded an extensive and enchanting view. Having gained the summit, they stood in affectionate embrace, leaning against the bars of a rude old fence covered with lichens, which had formerly been the boundary of their twilight ramble, intently watching the splendid pageant that was preparing in the western sky.

To say that the former was beautiful, would be leaving the greater part untold. Hers was all the rich bloom of perfect health; yet as delicate and pure as that which flushes the sweet-briar rose, which feeds upon the dew and assimilates by sacred processes the purest nutriment from the bosom of nature. As to her countenance, no one marked whether the features were regular and finely turnéd, for they were all alive with soul; nay, the spirit seemed to come out and gleam and play upon the surface, like a transparent veil of auroral light; and this, rather than any lines of her face, gave one his impression of her beauty. She was evidently younger than the brother, upon whose shoulder her cheek rested, who could not have long passed the boundary between youth and manhood, but yet was pale and dejected; and trode the earth like a disappointed and weary traveller, who finds the way of his pilgrimage a desert of deep sand, whose springs are dry.

'Behold, dearest brother,' whispered a voice like the linnet's, how majestically the setttng sun gathers about him the broad floating mantle of his glory, as he sinks, sinks, sinks behind those distant hills! And see how the host of clouds circle around his retiring chariot, to wave adieu with their fleecy banners, and gild their wings in his parting smile, as they crown him king of this splendid day! Come, beloved, and let us together taste, as we used to do, the luxury of silent adoration at eventide, on this mountain-altar of our youthful devotions. Let me feel, once more, that thy whole heart is flowing out with mine, to mingle in sweet sympathy with this peaceful glow of nature, and become absorbed for a blissful hour in the loving spirit of the Universe. Come, brother, give free wing again to that gay fancy that once kept equal pace with my own, and let our souls fly on and on, even to the Heaven of Heavens, through the celestial gate that the Lord of day has opened before us into the region of the Blessed. See! see! there are those same fairy islands, in that calm, yellow sea, to which you used to point my eye in those happy days, when father and mother were with us, and before you had left our humble roof for the mighty world. Come, and let us launch to-night our spirit-barks with the adventurous confidence of God's innocent children, and pay angel-like visits to their peaceful shores. That bold and towering headland be your place of pilgrimage: Yon little Archipelago I will explore. Away! away! before the illusion has vanished, and let us describe to each other what we see in our imaginary tour.'

you

Nay, sweet sister, you must to fairy-land alone to-night. But go, and Heaven with all its bright visions attend you! Those Eden-like pictures which describe, I have now no eye to see. In the press of the world my soul has lost its wings. Joy and peace, and a confiding faith once mine, as always yours are now but a dim memory in the past, in the future a dimmer hope; while gloom and doubt and a double-self are my realities. And yet, thank God! one reality that

interest

tellectual amusements, for not recollecting his name: as it is my however to cultivate the good will of my reader, in the hope that he will strongly recommend my writings to his numerous friends and acquaintances,' I will give him the choice of three names to select from; and if he should fortunately hit upon the right one, I have no doubt it will be some satisfaction to the injured individual. If it were not Scowton, it might have been Richardson, and if wrong in both, we 'll confer the honors upon Gyngell. We gazed with admiration upon the magnificently attired ladies and gentlemen, their faces covered with brick-dust, and their lips, those of the gentlemen I mean, with corked moustaches, while black raven hair hung in graceful profusion down their necks. Here we saw the chieftain of the Castle dance with one of his female vassals, without the slightest affectation of pride or distinction in any of his movements; one moment exchanging the graceful bolero for an Irish jig, and the next elevating at arm's length the active Columbine, whose performances were of course reserved for the pantomime; here stood a dwarf, under the wing of an Irish giantess, and dark lowering banditti arm-in-arm with the ladies of Court! There

stood the Bleeding Nun, with a fond recollection of the world she had left, regaling herself with her favorite beverage of gin-and-water; while the pot-boy looked on with admiration and wonder, to see how one spirit despatched the other in so brief a period.

The deep-sounding gong at length sent forth its funeral sounds, and called these artists to their vocation. This however was only a lure to induce the people to lose no time, but to be good-natured, and part with their little sixpences at once. This outward stage was no sooner cleared, than up we mounted and paid a shilling each for a front seat: but judge of our confusion, or rather that of Mr. Brunton, who had been so long a disciple of Thespis, that it was impossible for him to escape the lynx-eyed manager, proprietor and money-taker. No, said the multifarious functionary, with an evidently wounded spirit, and with a huskiness in his throat, which seemed the index of profound sensibility, (though justice compels me to say, I believe it arose less from the latter feeling, than from an early use of spirituous liquors) 'no, times is bad to be sure, but not so bad as to allow us to take money from our own brethren!" I immediately retreated, to give way to some other applicants for tickets, and should have been grateful if a trap-door had at that moment opened and engulphed me. I felt the force of sauve qui peut,' but did not dare to take advantage of it; I therefore remained, a living monument of alabaster. My friend 'blushed this once, who never blushed before;' Scowton, Richardson, or Gyngell, called loudly for an aid-de-camp, who came quickly to the spot, received his orders, darted off in an instant, glancing obliquely at two such distinguished persons, as I presume from his orders he considered us, while we were requested to wait a moment.

Now be it known to those who are unacquainted with the fact, that on all occasions when Royalty honors the theatre with its presence, the manager is always in waiting; in full court-suit, and with a silver candlestick in each hand, he precedes the royal personages to their box, backing the whole way, like a well-trained horse. Our conductor

appeared, not in a court-suit, it is true, nor with silver candlesticks, but observing all the proper forms and ceremonies, by preceding us in the same way, carrying a large sieve of saw-dust, which he sprinkled before our steps as we descended the platform leading to the most conspicuous and distingue seat that could be procured for us. The astonishment of the audience at this extraordinary parade is indescribable; and not even the magnificence of the appointments, the splendor of the scenery, and the extraordinary beauty of the poetry, could arrest their attention one moment. They undoubtedly looked upon us as foreign princes travelling incog.

I ought to have mentioned that the preceding summer, I had played a short engagement at the Haymarket Theatre, and thus laid the foundation for my speedy return to the metropolis at one of the larger houses. My debut was in the character of (the name is illegible,) in 'Lovers' Vows,' in which I had every reason to be satisfied with my reception; my second part was that of George Barnwell, and then I appeared with my friend Sowerby, in the Doubtful Season,' in which piece he sustained a very prominent character. I have already spoken of the extraordinary acting of Sowerby, and he certainly had the merit of puzzling the critics. There was a wildness and extravagance in his style, which frequently excited the risible muscles, and again there would be a burst of genius, that was hailed with rapture. The judgment of Colman as a critic, always ranked high, and he after witnessing his performance in the above play, left the theatre with a doubt he could ill express:

'In short,' said he, 'I was never so much at fault; for he is either the worst actor I ever saw, or decidedly one of the best.'

As Sowerby has once more stumbled on my path, I cannot refrain from relating an anecdote of him, which occurred in Glascow. He was on intimate terms with a Mr. Montgomery, a near relation of the Earl of Gosford, and whose assumed name was Barry. This gentleman had all the advantage and accomplishments appertaining to his position in life. He had finished' at Oxford and was afterward a short time in the army. His qualifications for the stage were by no means equal to his natural and acquired talents. He had a private income of some three hundred pounds a year; and without being parsimonious, had always funds sufficient to protect him against the petty accidents of life. Sowerby, who was the most careless of mortals, frequently borrowed money; and although there was not a particle of meanness in his composition, he almost as frequently neglected to return it. On one occasion, being pressed for twenty pounds, he called upon Montgomery to borrow that sum; but the latter gentleman decidedly refused him; arguing that the other, though sufficiently honest, was a careless fellow, who never heeded the consequences of breaking his promise to return the money, and that he, Montgomery, had in consequence on one or two occasions suffered serious annoyance. Sowerby pressed his suit with earnestness, but his friend was inflexible. At length he left the house in great dudgeon, but returned within half an hour, apparently indifferent to what had occurred, and said: 'Well, if you'll not advance me any money, I presume you'll not object to take a walk

with me.' Certainly not, was the reply. He was muffled up in a great-coat which did not at all accord with the season; but Montgomery knew it was idle to thwart him a second time, and quietly submitted to his eccentricity. They went to the salt-market, at an hour when the place was densely crowded with merchants and men of business; and when they had arrived in the heart of the vast throng, from which there was no possibility of retreat; with a daring fully equal to any of the exhibitions of Rob Roy on the same ground, Sowerby turned quietly round upon his victim, and said, in a calm tone: 'I must have that twenty pounds.' Montgomery, treating it half in jest, half in earnest, again refused. Sowerby then firmly grasped his arm, at the same time renewing his entreaties; but Montgomery, notwithstanding his extreme amiability of disposition, at length was roused into a strong feeling of annoyance, and rebuked him rather sharply. Perhaps there never was a man more sensitively nervous upon any point that could by possibility bring him before the public, more especially when composed of all classes as this was. Sowerby knew this, and played with and tickled his victim like a trout, till he arrived at his object. He then, with a cool determination, which the other knew it was in vain to trifle with, repeated:

'I must have the money, or I'll publicly expose you.'

How!' said Montgomery; what do you mean?'

'Simply this!' He then partially unbuttoned his coat, and displayed beneath it a harlequin jacket, with all its gay parti-colors, and rich spangles. 'You will walk with me in this dress, or lend me the money.'

What was the result? The twenty pounds were immediately advanced. Poor fellows! Both have quitted this earthly scene, to be more justly dealt with! The one died from the effects of over-sensibility, arising from the failure of his hopes; the other in sheer insanity, calling out: Saddle white Surry for the field to-morrow!'

EDINBURGH: SPEECHIFYING: SCOTTISH HOSPITALITY.

I WAS engaged by Mr. HENRY SIDDONS, then manager of the Edinburgh Theatre, to sustain the leading characters on Miss O'NEIL's first visit to the Scottish metropolis. The night previous to her first performance, the portico in front of the theatre was crowded by porters, who established a regular bivouac, for the purpose of making a rush to secure places the moment the box-office was opened in the morning. We performed there three weeks, and every night the theatre was crowded to suffocation. The cautious Scott was mounted on the highest pinnacle of enthusiasm; and a more delightful time I never passed. My letters of introduction were of a very flattering character, and in all my travels I never met with more genuine hospitality than in Scotland. I established many friendships, which continued as long as circumstances permitted me to cultivate them; and I shall ever think with gratitude of the many acts of kindness I received there. I had previously the good fortune to be known intimately to Colonel BETHUNE of