and forwards under the directions of a fresh bustling landlady; but still seizing an occasional moment to exchange a flippant word, and have a rallying laugh with the group round the fire. I had not been long at the inn when a post-chaise drove up to the door. A young gentleman stepped out, and by the light of the lamps I caught a glimpse of a countenance which I thought I knew. I moved forward to get a nearer view, when his eye caught mine. I was not mistaken; it was Frank Bracebridge, a sprightly good-humoured young fellow, with whom I had once travelled on the continent. Our meeting was extremely cordial, for the countenance of an old fellow-traveller always brings up the recollection of a thousand pleasant scenes, odd adventures, and excellent jokes. To discuss all these in a transient interview at an inn was impossible; and finding that I was not pressed for time, and was merely making a tour of observation, he insisted that I should give him a day or two at his father's country seat, to which he was going to pass the holidays, and which lay at a few miles' distance. "It is better than eating a solitary Christmas dinner at an inn," said he, "and I can assure you of a hearty welcome in something of the old-fashioned style." His reasoning was cogent,* and I must confess the preparation I had seen for universal festivity and social enjoyment had made me feel a little impatient of my loneliness. I closed, therefore, at once, with his invitation; the chaise drove up to the door, and in a few moments I was on my way to the family mansion of the Bracebridges.-Washington Irving. *Cogent, forcible or strong to the mind. POETICAL SECTION. EDWARD THE FIRST'S GRIEF FOR QUEEN ELEANOR. THE English powers were in array,* A moment's space he turned aside Till to grey Westminster they came; They rested nigh Northampton's bowers, One more sad halting-place they made;- They laid her in the minster shade Who should attend his march no more; Chronicled in a stirring page, Ruler of spirits stern and rude,— In outward show keep company. The carved stone cross which *Edward the First was fighting in Scotland. stands in front of the Railway Station at Charing Cross is said to be an exact copy of the original cross erected by Edward. Waltham Cross in Hertfordshire. Yet went no lone thoughts wandering back When in that shadowing eastern tent, No dream of that Sicilian shore Crossing the blue sea citron-isled, To watch beside their dying child; The peasant passes by the way And looks up to yon graven crest; For earthly loves do all pass by, And little trace of sorrow leave; The country lad goes whistling nigh Where heavy hearts once stopped to grieve. Yet it is written,-sure and deep,— And guarded well, its leaves shall keep The wakening trumpet's solemn breath Anonymous. "Bedesman" or "beadsman," a man anciently employed in praying, especially praying for another person. THE DYING BOY, WHO SET UP NAPOLEON'S STANDARD (THE EAGLE) AT RATISBON. You know we French stormed Ratisbon;-* A mile or so away, On a little mound Napoleon Stood, on our storming day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans, Let once my army-leader, Lannes, Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew Full galloping; nor bridle drew Until he reached the mound. Then off there flung in smiling joy, By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect,- You looked twice ere you saw his breast "Well," cried he, "Emperor! by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon! The marshal's in the market-place, And you 'll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans† Where I, to heart's desire, Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed: his plans * Ratisbon is a city in Bavaria. Napoleon defeated the Austrians there in 1809. Wings with which the air is beaten. The poet Dryden, for example, uses the word van" in the sense of a wing, The chief's eye flashed; but presently Softened itself as sheathes A film the mother eagle's eye, When her bruised eaglet breathes. "You're wounded!" "Nav." his soldier's pride Touched to the quick, he said, "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside, Smiling the boy fell dead. R. Browning. CARDINAL WOLSEY ON THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. FAREWELL, a long farewell, to all my greatness! Never to hope again. Shakspeare. |