The gift of the country-house near the large hotel of the Battle of Aboukir was duly and legally executed; the country-house was entered upon in the middle of winter; the maiden matron became invisible there; and no one was allowed to wait on her, but Susan, whom she had herself initiated into her mystery.

GOOD RESULTS.

'Well, to be sure," she would say to Susan in her cheerful hours, -for it was impossible to be always in despair; and, as her niece anticipated all her wishes, she had never felt herself half so comfortable as in the bosom of this happy family,-" Well, to be sure, it is a blue wonder, indeed, to think that I should come to this! Who would have thought it! Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. I believed myself too secure, and now I am chastened for my pride. Oh, trumpeter! trumpeter!"

The event, meanwhile, had exercised a very salutary influence on the maiden lady. Through very fear of betraying herself to the curious eyes of her former companions and gossips, she weaned herself from all intercourse with them, and acquired a taste for more refined pleasures in the circle of Dr. Falcon's family. She continued, indeed, rather too fond of all the tittle-tattle of the town; but then she thought of her own weakness, and judged more charitably that of others. She became so indulgent, so modest, nay, so humble, that the doctor and his wife were completely amazed. The change of circumstances and society,-the heroic resolution by which she had divested herself of a part of her property,—the assurance of the doctor that she was still rich enough to live at her ease,—all this had effected so singular a change in her character, that she seemed to live quite in a new world. She even abandoned all her usurious dealings, which, to be sure, she would have found it difficult to continue in her present seclusion.

The three faculties, meanwhile, were vomiting fire and flame. The two Bugles were apparently reconciled, but only that they might unite more vigorously in their hostility against the pettifogger, who watched their every step for a plausible ground of action against them. The philosopher wrote an excellent book against the human passions; and the worthy ecclesiastic delivered every Sunday most edifying discourses on the abomination of ingratitude, calumny, envy, evil-speaking, and malignity. Both did much good by their arguments, but their own gall became more and more bitter, every day.

THE PIOUS FRAUD.

The

The winter passed away, and was succeeded by spring. warm days of summer were approaching. Dr. Falcon had very soon obtained the conviction that his aunt had little cause for her uneasiness. He had told her so, and had explained to her the real nature of her indisposition. In vain the erring vestal would on no account be undeceived. Susan and her husband were at length obliged to desist from every attempt to dispel the ridiculous illusion of Aunt Sarah, who threatened that she should begin to doubt the doctor's friendship. She seldom left her bed.

"She makes me uneasy," said Susan to her husband; "at times I almost fancy her cracked."

"And she is so, in every sense of the word," said the doctor. "It is hypochondria,-a fixed idea. My physic is of no avail against the extravagancies of her imagination. I know of nothing I can do, unless it be to drive away one fancy by substituting another. Suppose we pass our child off upon her for her own."

"But will she believe it?"

"If she does not, it is of little consequence."

After a few weeks Susan appeared no longer in Sarah's room,—it had been so arranged by the doctor; and our aunt was informed that Susan had had a misfortune.

"Is the child dead?" inquired Sarah.

"Alas!" replied the doctor.

"Alas!" rejoined the aunt.

One day before daybreak, Aunt Sarah was awakened in an unusual manner. Her face was sprinkled with water, and strong scents were held to her nose, till it seemed they were going to send her out of the world by the very means apparently employed to bring her to life again.

66

She opened her eyes, and saw the doctor busy with her nose. Righteous Heaven! I am dying!-You are killing me! Nephew, nephew, what are you doing to my nose?"

"Hush, aunt!—don't speak a word!" said the doctor with a mysterious look;" only tell me how you feel yourself."

"Tolerably well, nephew."

"You have been insensible for four hours, aunt. I was uneasy for your life; but it's all right now,-you are saved. A lovely child—” "How!" exclaimed Sarah, almost rubbing her nose from her face. "A sweet little boy. Do you wish to see the pretty fellow? If you will keep yourself tranquil, and not stir a limb, why

"But, nephew”

"I have passed it off upon every one in the house for my wife's child."

"Oh, nephew! your prudence, your assistance, your counsel! Oh, you are an angel!"

Falcon went away. Aunt Sarah trembled all over with terror and joy. She looked round her :-on the table were burning lights and countless phials of medicine were strewn around. A woman brought in the baby: it was in a gentle sleep. Sarah spoke not a word, but looked at it long, wept bitterly, kissed the little creature again and again; and, when it had been carried away, she said to the doctor, "It is the living picture of the trumpeter to the French regiment— God be merciful to him! It is his living picture-I say, his living picture !"

CONSEQUENCES.

After the prescribed number of weeks had been punctually expended in the consumption of gruels and broths, the chaste Sarah perfectly recovered her spirits, and tripped about the house more cheerful and active than she had been for many years before. She dandled the baby, would scarcely allow it out of her sight, and evidently doted on it with unbounded tenderness. She had been successfully cured of one ridiculous illusion, by one yet more ridiculous. Overflowing with gratitude, her first visit out of the house was to the

church, and thence she proceeded to a lawyer to execute a deed of gift of her whole fortune to Dr. Falcon; reserving for herself only a large annuity by way of pocket-money. Between herself and the doctor, to be sure, a secret article was drawn up, by which he bound himself in due time to transfer half of her bounty to the little living picture of the regimental trumpeter.

In this way, the blue wonders of Miss Sarah Bugle suddenly converted our Dr. Falcon into a rich man. The triumph of the medical faculty was irrevocably confirmed; the more furiously did law, theology, and philosophy rage against each other. They could not forgive one another the loss of the expected legacy. Dr. Falcon was readily excused, for he was innocent. With him, all parties were ready to renew a friendly intercourse, for he was now one of the wealthiest men in the town; and a wealthy man, or rather his money, may at times be useful to the philosopher as well as to the jurist: and to the theologian as much as to either.

THE YOUTH'S NEW VADE-MECUM.

TO THE EDITOR OF BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.

SIR,-In submitting for your inspection, the poem which I now do myself the honour of forwarding to you, permit me to intimate to you the origin of its composition, and to indulge in one or two remarks.

The author is a particular friend of my own; a gentleman who, marrying at a rather advanced stage in the journey of life, was unexpectedly and agreeably presented with a small earnest of posterity in the shape of a son. Parental feelings, like many other good things, are better late than never; and it has often struck me that such feelings are much stronger, considerably more fervent, and, indeed, a great deal better when they do come late. Methinks the love of grandfather, grandmother, uncle, great-aunt, and a whole kit of cou sins, is blended in the sexagenarian sire. It will be perceived, from the affecting apostrophe or invocation, that my friend commenced his poem with praiseworthy promptitude; and I do hope that its success will be more than commensurate with his expectations. The youth is now half-past six, in the morning of existence. I have, once only, had the pleasure of meeting him. He entered his father's study somewhat abruptly, mounted on a timber steed, which, I am advised, he is already perfectly able to manage; and, immediately he opened his mouth, with a raspberry-jam border to it, I perceived that he would, at no distant day, become not only a worthy member, but an undoubted ornament, of society. But this is from my present pur

pose.

Your Miscellany, sir, professes to furnish materials for the amuse ment and delight of the community; and hitherto you have acted up to your professions. But were it not as well, allow me to suggest, that you should combine instruction with amusement, that you should clear the heart as well as purify the liver that you should

attend to the mind at the same time that you tickle the midriff? You must confess, when I remind you of it, that the rising generation has strong claims upon you, which I am sure you will be anxious, and indeed most happy, to allow. The Youth's New Vade-Mecum, then, is a compendious manual of instruction, which cannot fail of becoming permanently serviceable and efficient. Similar although I allow it to be, in many respects, to certain "Guides to Youth" and "Young Man's best Companions" which have been published, yet I cannot but think that the precision with which the precepts are laid down in it, and the judicious manner in which they are conveyed, must cause it very shortly to supersede all other works of the same nature. I enclose for your gratification the real name of the author, and I grant you the discretionary power of whispering it to any grateful parent (there may be many such) who would fain make the acquaintance and cultivate the friendship of their benefactor: and I have the honour to be, sir, Your obedient, humble servant,

CHARLES WHITEHEAD.

THE YOUTH'S NEW VADE-MECUM.
My son, whose infant head I now survey,
Guiltless of hair, whilst mine, alas! is grey,-
Whose feeble wailings through my bosom thrill,
And cause my heart to shake my very frill,-
Incline thine ear, quick summon all thy thought,
And take this wisdom which my love has brought :
Perpend these precepts; sift, compare, combine;
And be my brain's results transferr'd to thine.

Soon as thy judgment shall grow ripe and strong,
Learn to distinguish between right and wrong :
Yet ponder with deliberation slow,

Whether thy judgment be yet ripe or no ;
For wrong, when look'd at in a different light,
Behold! is oft discover'd to be right,

And vice versá―(such the schoolmen's phrase)-
Right becomes wrong, so devious Reason's maze!

Take only the best authors' mental food,
For too much reading is by no means good;
And, since opinions are not all correct,

Thy books thyself must for thyself select.

Accumulate ideas: yet despise
Reputed wisdom,-folly oft is wise;
And wisdom, if the mass be not kept cool,
Mothers, and is the father of, a fool.

Be virtuous and be happy good! but, stop,-
They sow the seed who never reap the crop ;
For virtue oft, which men so much exact,
Like ancient china, is more precious crack'd;
And happiness, forsooth, not over-nice,
Sometimes enjoys a pot and pipe with vice.

Get rich; 'tis well for mind and body's health:
But never, never be the slave of wealth.

The gain of riches is the spirit's loss;

And, oh! my son, remember gold is dross.

Be honest,-not as fools or bigots rave;
Your honest man is often half a knave.
Let Justice guide you; but still bear in mind
The goddess may mislead, for she is blind.

Hygeia's dictates let me now declare,
For health must be your most especial care.
Rise early, but beware the matin chill;
"Tis fresh, but fatal,-healthy, but may kill:
Nor leave thy couch, nor break the bonds of sleep,
Till morning's beams from out the ocean leap;
Lest, crawling, groping, stumbling on the stair,
Your head descend, your heels aspire in air;
As down the flight your body swiftly steals,
Useless to know your head has sav'd your heels,
Prone on your face with dislocated neck,
You find that slumber which you sought to check.

Early to bed, but not till nature call.
Be moderate at meals, nor drink at all,
Save when with friends you toast the faithful lass,
And raise the sparkling, oft-repeated glass;
Then, graver cares and worthless scruples sunk,
Drink with the best, my son,-but ne'er get drunk.

Bathe in cold water: cautious, and yet bold,
Dive, but the water must not be too cold:
And still take care lest, as you gaily swim,
Cramp should distort and dislocate each limb.
When such the case, howe'er thy fancy urge,
Postpone the bracing pastime, and emerge.
Dangers on land as well as water teem,
But now the bank is safer than the stream.

Say you should chance be ill (for, after all,
Men are but men on this terrestrial ball);
Should sickness with her frightful train invade,
Lose not a moment, but apply for aid.-
Yet fancy oft, imagined symptoms sees,
And nervous megrim simulates disease.-
Lo! at your call-the cry of coward fear-

A chemist and a cane-sucker appear:

The one, tough roots from earth's intestines dug,

Pounds with strong arm, dissolves the nauseous drug;

The other, gazing with portentous air,

Surveys the foolish tongue that call'd him there;

To dulcet tones that breathe deceptive calm,

Your cash expires in his diurnal palm,

And, sick of physic you were forced to swill,
Long-labell'd phials indicate the bill.

As learning's bridge progresses arch by arch,
So men, by gradual intellectual march,
From savages to citizens advance.-

Then gentlemen are taught to fence and dance;
Whilst gay professors, with imposing show,
Present the violin, and hand the bow.

Dance gracefully, and move with perfect ease,
Nor bend, nor keep inflexible, the knees;
Crawl not, nor with your head the ceiling touch-
That were to move too little; this too much.