during that whole night, had been evincing such heroic fortitude and undaunted courage. History has handed down to posterity many a warrior-the destroyer of thousands of his fellow men-but she has left us in ignorance of the name of this real little hero of Haarlem.

THE FAMINE IN SAMARIA.

UPON Samaria's fenced wall the shades of evening fell,

On scenes where Famine struggled hard the pulse of life to quell ;
A day of terror now had pass'd, of conflict and of gloom,
And men, with looks that boded ill, foretold the city's doom.
"Unless," said one, "the Lord should make a door in yon blue sky,
And rain down food that we may eat, we cannot choose but die.
The king within his palace sat, no festive board was there;
He turn'd from all his pomp away, his people's fate to share!
Without the gate, four leprous men had cast them down to die,
Till hunger's whisper urged them on a reckless scheme to try.

"Why sit we here, in mute despair, a certain fate to meet?

I deem," said one, "the Syrian's sword than famine's death more

sweet.

We can but die! come, let us seek the hostile camp to gain,
While the dim twilight safely veils our passage o'er the plain."

They started up, those desperate men, by hunger goaded on,
And when they reach'd the Syrian camp, their looks were wild and

wan.

Oh! could it be, the fever'd blood had so bedimm'd the eye,

That they could scarcely trace the forms which must be crowding nigh?

No voice of man, no challenge, stirr'd the stillness of the night,
But tents, with horses saddled by, broke dimly on their sight.
With cautious step they enter'd one, but there was no man there,
And all untasted on the ground behold the soldier's fare!
With hasty hand the morsel snatch'd, the lepers turn'd to fly,
When lo! a thousand glitt'ring tents were standing empty by!
The body's urgent wants appeased, the quenchless thirst for gold
Arose in those poor outcasts' hearts, too strongly to be told;
They seized the goodly prize, and ran with stealthy step to hide
Rich garments that had lately been the stately Syrian's pride.
At length the fear of danger nigh, or perhaps some better thought,

In their too selfish minds at once the full conviction wrought:
"We do not well to tarry here! Arise! and let us go

Where Famine stalks his nightly round, with measured step and slow;

The joyful tidings of to-day a glad surprise will bring,

And we must hasten first to tell the household of the king!"

"Well, I will explain in few words. The two bulky volumes just issued contain nearly 1400 pages of letter-press; yet, within this ample space, the historian narrates only the events of eight or nine years of the reign of William and Mary. He has been seven years engaged upon the composition of these two volumes. Now, at the same rate of progress, it will take 178 years to bring down the history to the reign of Victoria, while fifty octavo volumes would be required to comprehend it."

"This view of the matter certainly opens up a dreary prospect," remarked Edward. "Such a history might have suited the leisure of the long-lived antediluvians; but it is scarcely adapted to the hurry and bustle and pre-occupation of this steaming age, when it is difficult to find time to eat, much less to read any voluminous work, however charming it may be in subject or style."

66 Thank you for the hint, Edward," said the Editor, with a significant glance at the dial on the mantel-piece. "This is, indeed, a driving age; every hour has its appropriate duties, which cannot be safely deferred; and unless we proceed with an examination of the works now demanding our attention, we shall incur the censure which we have just been inflicting on Mr. Macaulay. Here"-continued he, taking up a neat volume, bearing on its gold-illuminated back the title of "MARY MATHIESON "*"here is a work which can hardly be read thoughtfully by any one without profit. You have probably all perused it?"

"All excepting mamma," cried several young voices together. "Then, perhaps, Augustus will indicate the nature of its contents, and favour us with his opinion of the fair heroine."

"With pleasure, Mr. Editor," cheerfully responded Augustus. "Without speaking offensively, I may say that the book comprises the autobiography of an old maid; but after listening to the affecting story of her trials, sufferings, and heart-crushing disappointments, not only have I become deeply interested in our heroine individually, but I have experienced considerable relentings towards the class to which she belongs, since many, like her, may have been blighted by the fiery trials through which they have passed in the earlier periods of their life."

"I am pleased to hear you express such kindly sentiments towards persons whose dispositions and characters cannot always be inferred from their outward aspect," interrupted Mrs. M.

"But I should never have pictured Miss Mathieson to myself as bearing any resemblance to an old maid," exclaimed Edward, with warmth.

"You forget, then," replied Augustus, "the portrait which she draws of her appearance at the outset of her history. Allow me to refresh your memory by reading it. 'I am,' she says, 'a rather small, spare person, with a sallow complexion, and somewhere about that most indefinite period in woman's life, the middle age. My hair, which was once a chestnut brown, is now almost white, having been silvered before the usual time, by the many cares, anxieties, and sorrows which have chequered a not inactive life; indeed, I was as grey as I am now when little more than thirty. I have, I believe, the

* Edinburgh: William Oliphant and Sons.

most decided cut of an old maid; yet I am not, I hope, either illnatured or morose-dispositions with which a charitable world generally invests a member of that unfortunate class, as among its necessary attributes." "

The lady should have reserved that description for the close of her sketch," said Emmeline. "It destroyed with me, to some extent, the effect of her narrative, and cast a chilling shadow over the brighter scenes of her life. It fixed in my mind a painful premonition as to how all would end. But I have interrupted you, Augustus. Go on."

"Mary Mathieson's history is that of thousands of the governesses of the present day. She was brought up amid the comforts and luxuries of a respectable position in society. Her father was a Writer to the Signet in Edinburgh; but in the prime of life he was cut down, leaving behind him, quite unprovided for, a widow and five children. Of these, our heroine was the eldest, and was nearly eighteen when this blow fell upon the family. Up to this time she had been the gayest of the gay, and as thoughtless as the thistle down as it is wafted hither and thither by the wind. Now, however, there all at once devolved an immense weight of care and responsi bility upon her young shoulders. After conceiving and rejecting a thousand plans for the future support of herself and her brothers and sister, it was at length resolved that she should go forth as a governess. Through a friend in London, a situation was secured in Somersetshire, in the family of Sir William Taylor. Having seen the impoverished family settled in a small cottage, Mary, with a heavy heart, took her departure. Passing over the incidents of the journey, which are very well told, our heroine at length reached Hanfield Park, her new home. Her reception was cold and formal. Lady Taylor was stately and proud; and Lucy, the young lady whom she was to educate, was a wayward, indulged, and intractable child, who regarded her new governess as a great 'bore.' Many amusing incidents are given in illustration of the mischief-loving propensities of Lucy; but by the calm, firm, and loving demeanour of Miss Mathieson, the wildness of the young hoyden was gradually subdued, and her repugnance to instruction conquered. The marked improve. ment in the conduct of her pupil did much also to conciliate Lady Taylor, who strove to be as affable to Miss Mathieson as her natural hauteur would permit.

"When she had spent about four years in the family, circumstances occurred which suddenly changed the entire current of her history. Mr. Taylor, the only son, about this time returned home from a long continental tour, and seems to have conceived a strong affection for Miss Mathieson. They were frequently brought together in the sickchamber of Lucy, who, after narrowly escaping drowning, was for a long period confined to a bed of suffering, where she was tenderly watched and nursed by her governess. Lady Taylor seems to have been the first to suspect the secret attachment, and gave private orders that she should be apprized immediately whenever her son visited his sister's apartment. When this took place, she was instantly on the spot. One day the girl innocently let out what her instructions were. Mr. Taylor, indignant to find that a spy had been

appointed to report his movements, went down forthwith and upbraided his mother for her conduct. Miss Mathieson meanwhile, in ignorance of the cause of his angry retreat, went out, at Lucy's urgent request, to enjoy the fresh air after her long confinement. While thus engaged, she encountered Mr. Taylor, who, still labouring under some excitement, avowed his esteem and affection for her, and solicited her hand. He declared that his parents were anxious to force him into a marriage against his will, but that he had resolved to wed only where he could bestow his heart.

"I need not attempt to describe the surprise and confusion of our heroine at this avowal, or the strife of feelings that raged within her bosom-for she now discovered that the regard was reciprocal; it is enough to say that, bearing in mind the disparity of their circumstances, and the certain opposition of the family, she firmly, yet gratefully, declined the offer. Her position at Hanfield now became painful and unendurable. She, accordingly, at once sought an interview with Lady Taylor, relinquished her situation, and returned home."

"Noble and heroic girl!" exclaimed Mrs. M. "I cannot sufficiently applaud your decision. Few would thus have sacrificed inclination to duty."

"On her return to Edinburgh the reaction was fearful. She sunk into a state of deep despondency. At length she was invited to enter the family of a friend of her late father's, as companion to his two amiable daughters. Here she was recovering much of her early cheerfulness, when she one day learned that Mr. Taylor was about to be married to an intimate friend of hers, Miss Trenchard. This intelligence opened her wounded heart afresh; and letters from her friend and from Lucy soon after, calling upon her to rejoice with them, added keener pangs to her anguish of soul. Time, the healer, however, passed on, when one morning a black-bordered letter from her brother George announced the death of a relative to whom he was heir-at-law. The family being thus suddenly restored to a position of comfort, Mary returned home at once.

"While the old mansion, which came into their possession, was undergoing repairs, to fit it for the new laird, George, Mary, and a younger sister visited the north of Europe. During their stay at Hamburg, they unexpectedly met Mr. Taylor and Lucy, the former of whom had already become a widower. What wonder if, under these altered circumstances, the long-repressed affection of both should revive, and the bar of poverty removed, our heroine should now accept the hand which she had once so magnanimously declined? But, alas! this gleam of brightness was of transient dura tion. As the time for the wedding drew near, Mr. Taylor's health rapidly broke up; and shortly afterwards, instead of accompanying her lover to the altar, she followed him to the tomb!"

"What a painful history!" said Mrs. M.

"Yes," added the Editor; "but it is evident from the tone of Miss Mathieson's narrative, that these sorrows have had a chastening and sanctifying effect upon her character. I could wish every young lady to read this truthful and beautiful life-story. It affords a fine example of the spirit in which the trials of earth should be met and conquered."

"What have you there, my dear?" asked Mrs. M.

'This work," replied Emmeline, " is entitled,' THE MINGLED YARN; or, Prosperity without Peace, and Adversity without Pain: by Eliza Smith. Its principal heroine is likewise a governess. I say ' prin. cipal,' for there are so many heroes and heroines introduced, that it is difficult to decide which is the central figure on the canvas."

"I quite agree with you," remarked Augustus, "that the plot is much too complicated: it is constructed neither according to the true principles of art nor the truth of nature. The abrupt transitions from scene to scene are extremely tantalizing to the reader; and the different forms of composition adopted-now narrative, now journal, now epistle-throw an air of obscurity over the aim and drift of the work. I cannot divest myself of the feeling that the title ought more properly to have been, 'The Tangled Yarn.' Yet, while I thus frankly express my impressions of the literary structure of the work, I must not be understood as condemning the lessons which it seeks to inculcate. Some of its sketches of character are doubtless taken from life, though there is an evident tendency to exaggeration and caricature. Witness, for example, the really clever and withering exposé of the manner in which the minister of Ardnaer was chosen. We must hope, for the credit sake of the good people of the North, that there is a little deep colouring here. The work, I doubt not, will be popular with the young; since it contains within its limited space an extraordinary amount of dramatic interest, romantic positions, catastrophes, disasters, plots and counterplots, and sorrowful and happy issues."

"My judgment of the volume coincides pretty well with yours, Augustus," said the Editor. "The plan of the fair authoress is too artificial; and perhaps we are the more struck with this, after coming to its perusal from the fresh, simple, and transparently natural story of Mary Mathieson."

"This is always a welcome guest at our table," exclaimed Edward, exhibiting the third volume of the "LIBRARY OF BIBLICAL LITERA TURE."+ "I know of no publication so well calculated to excite and foster in the minds of intelligent young persons a taste for sacred studies, and to invest the Bible in their eyes with unimagined attractions."

"If it has interested many other minds as it evidently has yours, Edward, and stimulated to further inquiries, as in your case, its mission will not prove an unimportant one," said the Editor. Since you have read, from month to month, the numbers composing this volume, you will be able to give us an idea of the topics embraced by it.'

66

"Gladly," rejoined Edward. "The first three parts contain a valuable and most graphic sketch of the 'FORTY YEARS' LIFE OF THE HEBREWS IN THE WILDERNESS.' That mighty host, supposed to equal the population of the metropolis, is traced from stage to stage in its wanderings; the localities where it encamped are, where prac

Edinburgh Moodie and Lothian.

+ London: William Freeman.