as far as I have seen, it works very ill; nothing could work worse, wherever popular prejudices, popular passion, or popular folly was concerned. Who may be the new President, selected from this bag of accidents, I cannot take upon myself to say; but the tendency of the States is democratic; and unless some great mistake is made by that party, they will elect him. Fillmore, Webster, Scott, and Cass, are the most prominent candidates; but the most prominent are not always the most successful; and it would not at all surprise me to find some man almost unheard of in the contest, stepping quietly into the Presidential chair. The more a man has done for the country, the less likely is the country to choose him. It is not for what a man has done, but for what he has not done, that he is elected; for each eminent political man makes more enemies than friends. He offends a hundred where he gratifies one.

Whoever may be the President, however, the United States will hold on the even tenor of their way-increasing every day and every hour in material prosperity-augmenting

in population and resources. They will not interfere in the affairs of Europe, notwithstanding all Kossuth can say; they will not again attempt to surprise Cuba, under cover of a Creole revolution, till a more favourable opportunity. They will coquet with the Sandwich Islands; push their feelers into the open oyster-shell of Mexico, and as far as the narrowest part of the Isthmus, feeling a destiny which impels them thither. They will flatter and court the Canadians, who hate them; construct railroads and canals as highways for enterprises of all kinds; settle, populate, cultivate, develop wild districts and undiscovered resources; display many of the best, and many of the worst, features of the Anglo-Saxon character, with here and there a touch of all the different nations which they are absorbing into themselves; and in the end, I believe, before magnitude causes disjunction, or corruption produces decay, will become, what they believe themselves to be now, one of the greatest people that the earth has ever seen.-Your obedient servant,

AN ENGLISHMAN ABROAD.

WE have seen Squire Hazeldean, (proud of the contents of his pocketbook, and his knowledge of the mercenary nature of foreign women,) set off on his visit to Beatrice di Negra. Randal, thus left, musing lone in the crowded streets, revolved with astute complacency the probable results of Mr Hazeldean's bluff negotiation; and, convincing himself that one of his vistas towards Fortune was becoming more clear and clear, he turned, with the restless activity of some founder of destined cities in a new settlement, to lop the boughs that cumbered and obscured the others. For truly, like a man in a vast Columbian forest, opening entangled space, now with the ready axe, now with the patient train, that kindles the slower fire, this child of civilised life went toiling on against surrounding obstacles, resolute to destroy, but ever scheming to construct. And now Randal has reached Levy's dainty business-room, and is buried deep in discussion how to secure to himself, at the expense of his patron, the representation of Lansmere, and how to complete the contract which shall reannex to his forlorn inheritance some fragments of its ancient wealth.

Meanwhile, Chance fought on his side in the boudoir of May Fair. The Squire had found the Marchesa at home-briefly introduced himself and his business-told her she was mistaken if she had fancied she had taken in a rich heir in his son-that, thank Heaven, he could leave his estates to his ploughman, if he so pleased, but that he was willing to do things liberally; and whatever she thought Frank was worth, he was very ready to pay for.

At another time Beatrice would perhaps have laughed at this strange address; or she might, in some prouder moment, have fired up with all a patrician's resentment and a woman's pride; but now her spirit

VOL. LXXII.-NO. CCCCXLI.

was crushed, her nerves shattered: the sense of her degraded position, of her dependence on her brother, combined with her supreme unhappiness at the loss of those dreams with which Leonard had for a while charmed her wearied waking life—all came upon her. She listened, pale and speechless; and the poor Squire thought he was quietly advancing towards a favourable result, when she suddenly burst into a passion of hysterical tears; and just at that moment Frank himself entered the room. At the sight of his father, of Beatrice's grief, his sense of filial duty gave way. He was maddened by irritation-by the insult offered to the woman he loved, which a few trembling words from her explained to him; maddened yet more by the fear that the insult had lost her to him-warm words ensued between son and father, to close with the peremptory command and vehement threat of the last.

"Come away this instant, sir! Come with me, or before the day is over I strike you out of my will!"

The son's answer was not to his father; he threw himself at Beatrice's feet.

"Forgive him-forgive us both-" "What! you prefer that stranger to me to the inheritance of Hazeldean!" cried the Squire, stamping his foot.

"Leave your estates to whom you will; all that I care for in life is here!"

The Squire stood still a moment or so, gazing on his son, with a strange bewildered marvel at the strength of that mystic passion, which none not labouring under its fearful charm can comprehend, which creates the sudden idol that no reason justifies, and sacrifices to its fatal shrine alike the Past and the Future. Not trusting himself to speak, the father drew his hand across his eyes, and dashed away the bitter tear that

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hair.

He walked through the streets, bearing his head very erect, as a proud man does when deeply wounded, and striving to shake off some affection that he deems a weakness; and his trembling nervous fingers fumbled at the button of his coat, trying to tighten the garment across his chest, as if to confirm a resolution that still sought to struggle out of the revolting heart.

Thus he went on, and the reader, perhaps, will wonder whither; and the wonder may not lessen when he finds the Squire come to a dead pause in Grosvenor Square, and at the portico of his "distant brother's" stately house.

At the Squire's brief inquiry whether Mr Egerton was at home, the porter summoned the groom of the chambers; and the groom of the chambers, seeing a stranger, doubted whether his master was not engaged, but would take in the stranger's card and see.

"Ay, ay," muttered the Squire, "this is true relationship—my child prefers a stranger to me. Why should I complain that I am a stranger in a brother's house? Sir," added the Squire aloud, and very meekly—" Sir, please to say to your master that I am William Hazeldean."

The servant bowed low, and without another word conducted the visitor into the statesman's library, and, announcing Mr Hazeldean, closed the door.

Audley was seated at his desk, the grim iron boxes still at his feet, but they were now closed and locked. And the ex-minister was no longer looking over official documents; letters spread open before him, of far different nature; in his hand there lay a long lock of fair silken hair, on which his eyes were fixed sadly and intently. He started at the sound of his visitor's name, and the tread of the Squire's stalwart footstep; and mechanically thrust into his bosom the relic of younger and warmer years, keeping his hand to his heart, which beat loud with disease, under

The two brothers stood on the great man's lonely hearth, facing each other in silence, and noting unconsciously the change made in each during the long years in which they had never met.

The Squire, with his portly size, his hardy sun-burnt cheeks, the partial baldness of his unfurrowed open forehead, looked his full age-deep into middle life. Unmistakably he seemed the pater familias-the husband and the father-the man of social domestic ties. But about Audley, (really some few years junior to the Squire,) despite the lines of care on his handsome face, there still lingered the grace of youth. Men of cities retain youth longer than those of the country-a remark which Buffon has not failed to make and to account for. Neither did Egerton betray the air of the married man; for ineffable solitariness seemed stamped upon the man, whose private life had long been so stern a solitude. No ray from the focus of Home played round that reserved, unjoyous, melancholy brow. In a word, Audley looked still the man for whom some young female heart might fondly sigh; and not the less because of the cold eye and compressed lip, which challenged interest even while seeming to repel it.

Audley was the first to speak, and to put forth the right hand, which he stole slowly from its place at his breast, on which the lock of hair still stirred to and fro at the heave of the labouring heart. "William," said he, with his rich deep voice, "this is kind. You are come to see me, now that men say I am fallen. The minister you censured is no more; and you see again the brother."

The Squire was softened at once by this address. He shook heartily the hand tendered to him; and then, turning away his head, with an honest conviction that Audley ascribed to him a credit which he did not deserve, he said, "No, no, Audley; I am more selfish than you think me. I have come-I have come to ask your advice-no, not exactly that-your opinion. But you are busy?—"

"Sit down, William. Old days were coming over me when you

entered; days earlier still return now-days, too, that leave no shadow when their suns are set."

The proud man seemed to think he had said too much. His practical nature rebuked the poetic sentiment and phrase. He re-collected himself, and added, more coldly, "You would ask my opinion? What on? Some public matter-some Parliamentary bill that may affect your property?"

"Am I such a mean miser as that? Property - property? What does property matter, when a man is struck down at his own hearth? Property, indeed! But you have no childhappy brother!"

"Ay, ay; as you say, I am a happy man; childless! Has your son displeased you? I have heard him spoken of well, too."

"Don't talk of him. Whether his conduct be good or ill is my affair," resumed the poor father with a testy voice-jealous alike of Audley's praise or blame of his rebellious son. Then he rose a moment, and made a strong gulp, as if for air; and laying his broad brown hand on his brother's shoulder, said "Randal Leslie tells me you are wise-a consummate man of the world. No doubt you are so. And Parson Dale tells me that he is sure you have warm feelings-which I take to be a strange thing for one who has lived so long in London, and has no wife and no child-a widower, and a Member of Parliament-for a commercial city, too. Never smile; it is no smiling matter with me. You know a foreign woman, called Negra or Negro-not a blackymoor, though, by any means—at least on the outside of her. Is she such a woman as a plain country gentleman would like his only son to marry-ay or no?"

"No, indeed," answered Audley, gravely; "and I trust your son will commit no action so rash. Shall I see him, or her? Speak, my dear William. What would you have me do?"

mere's house, and when I took you aside, and said William, if I lose this election, I must resign all chance of public life; my affairs are embarassed; I may need-I would not accept money from you-I would seek a profession, and you can help me there,' you divined my meaning, and said-Take orders; the Hazeldean living is just vacant. I will get some one to hold it till you are ordained.' I do not forget that. Would that I had thought earlier of so serene an escape from all that then tormented me. My lot might have been far happier."

The Squire eyed Audley with a surprise that broke forth from his more absorbing emotions. "Happier! Why, all things have prospered with you; and you are rich enough now; and-you shake your head. Brother, is it possible! do you want money? Pooh, not accept money from your mother's son!stuff." Out came the Squire's pocket-book. Audley put it gently aside.

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Nay," said he, "I have enough for myself; but since you seek and speak with me thus affectionately, I will ask you one favour. Should I die before I can provide for my wife's kinsman, Randal Leslie, as I could wish, will you see to his fortunes, so far as you can, without injury to others-to your own son?"

"My son! He is provided for. He has the Casino estate-much good may it do him. You have touched on the very matter that brought me here. This boy, Randal Leslie, seems a praiseworthy lad, and has Hazeldean blood in his veins. You have taken him up because he is connected with your late wife. Why should not I take him up, too, when his grandmother was a Hazeldean? I wanted to ask you what you meant to do for him; for if you did not mean to provide for him, why, I will, as in duty bound. So your request comes at the right time; I think of altering my will. I can put him into the entail, besides a handsome legacy. You are sure he is a good lad-and it will please you too, Audley!"

"But not at the expense of your son. And stay, William-as to this.

foolish marriage with Madame di Negra, who told you Frank meant to take such a step?

"He told me himself; but it is no matter. Randal and I both did all we could to dissuade him; and Randal advised me to come to you." "He has acted generously, then, our kinsman Randal-I am glad to hear it" said Audley, his brow somewhat clearing. "I have no influence with this lady; but, at least, I can counsel her. Do not consider the marriage fixed because a young man desires it. Youth is ever hot and rash."

"Your youth never was," retorted the Squire bluntly. "You married well enough, I'm sure. I will say one thing for you: you have been, to my taste, a bad politician-beg pardon-but you were always a gentleman. You would never have disgraced your family and married

a

"Hush!" interrupted Egerton gently. "Do not make matters worse than they are. Madame di Negra is of high birth in her own country; and if scandal"

Are

"Scandal!" cried the Squire, shrinking and turning pale. you speaking of the wife of a Hazeldean? At least she shall never sit by the hearth at which now sits his mother; and whatever I may do for Frank, her children shall not succeed. No mongrel cross-breed shall kennel in English Hazeldean. Much obliged to you, Audley, for your good feeling-glad to have seen you; and harkye, you startled me by that shake of your head, when I spoke of your wealth; and, from what you say about Randal's prospects, I guess that you London gentlemen are not so thrifty as we are. You shall let me speak. I say again, that I have some thousands quite at your service. And though you are not a Hazeldean, still you are my mother's son ; and now that I am about to alter my will, I can as well scratch in the name of Egerton as that of Leslie. Cheer up, cheer up; you are younger than I am, and you have no child; so you will live longer than I shall." My dear brother," answered Audley, "believe me I shall never live to want your aid. And as to

แ

Leslie, add to the £5000 I mean to give him, an equal sum in your will, and I shall feel that he has received justice."

Observing that the Squire, though he listened attentively, made no ready answer, Audley turned the subject again to Frank; and with the adroitness of a man of the world, backed by cordial sympathy in his brother's distress, he pleaded so well Frank's lame cause, urged so gently the wisdom of patience and delay, and the appeal to filial feeling rather than recourse to paternal threats, that the Squire grew mollified in spite of himself, and left his brother's house a much less angry, and less doleful man.

Mr Hazeldean was still in the square, when he came upon Randal himself, who was walking with a dark whiskered, showy gentleman, towards Egerton's house. Randal and the gentleman exchanged a hasty whis.. per, and the former then exclaimed"What, Mr Hazeldean, have you just left your brother's house? Is it possible?"

'Why, you advised me to go there, and I did. I scarcely knew what I was about. I am very glad I did go. Hang politics! hang the landed interest! what do I care for either now?"

"Foiled with Madame di Negra ?" asked Randal, drawing the Squire aside.

"Never speak of her again !" cried the Squire fiercely. "And as to that ungrateful boy-but I don't mean to behave harshly to him-he shall have money enough to keep her if he likes-keep her from coming to mekeep him, too, from counting on my death, and borrowing post-obits on the Casino-for he'll be doing that next-no, I hope I wrong him there; I have been too good a father for him to count on my death already. After all," continued the Squire, beginning to relax, "as Audley says, the marriage is not yet made; and if the woman has taken him in, he is young, and his heart is warm. Make yourself easy, my boy. don't forget how kindly you took his part; and before I do anything rash, I'll at least take advice with his poor mother."

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