that we shall ever be in the humour to grant. It is, in fact, surprising that a person of Mr. Disraeli's shrewdness should not be aware of this. His exaltation, for example, of Sidonia, is a mere solecism, as people know who is meant, and laugh at the fanfaronade. Truth, he may rely upon it, is better than exaggeration, and we trust therefore that these observations, should he ever see them, will be taken in good part, and induce him, in his continuation of "Tancred," to throw away his tottering stilts, and walk on the common vulgar earth, like a man of this world. No permanent existence can be accorded to such phantasmagoric personages as the Evas, Astartes, Amaleks, Fakrideens, and Bessos of the present performance. They are the mere ghosts of Arabian tales, and merely float for a moment through a misty atmosphere of extravagance, "To amaze the unlearn'd, and make the learned smile." length so completely monopolise all that is noble and beautiful in the human heart, that wherever human hands are lifted up in reverence to heaven, it will be to repeat that prayer which our earliest childhood lisps, and which dies on our faltering tongues as we retire from this perishable world through the portals of death. We need, we repeat, no new revelation. There is nothing further to be revealed to us. We have been taught the knowledge of the true God, and if that will not ennoble and purify our race, nothing can. It is not the province of the novelist to invade regions such as these. His business is, to portray our perishable passions and interests, our loves and enmities, our aspirations and our defects. With such materials the most absorbing narratives may be constructed; narratives which will take their place in our permanent literature, and for ever continue to afford pleasure and instruction to those who are in search of them. Specimens of Petrarca; That he can do better we fully believe, but it must be by reducing his dimensions to the natural, by putting Mr. Sidonia to the rightabout, by escaping from the apish and gauzy inhabitants of Mayfair, by forswearing Dukes of Bellamont and Princes of the Lebanon, and Shieks of the Recha- (Author of "The Porcelain Tower," "The Little Old bites, and Queens of the Ansarey, and presenting us instead with good flesh and blood Jews, and pretty Jewesses, whether high-nosed or low-nosed will matter not a SELECTED FROM HIS POEMS ON THE TRANSLATED BY T. H. SEALY. Man of the Wood," &c. &c.) THE SIXTH CANZONE. jot. We like these dark eyed women, who [A dialogue between the poet and Laura, when she resemble a fragment of the eastern world, lying in startling contrast with our northern fabric of society. Our faith sheds a appears to him in sleep. She dissuades him from lustre round those daughters of Zion, and When my sweet comforter and most faithful our chivalry inspires us with kindly feeling for them as wanderers in a strange land. Nothing could be easier than for one who understands their inner life, who is familiar with their fashions and habits, and who can describe their peculiarities as Mr. Disraeli undoubtedly can, to fling an air of fascinating romance over the loves and fortunes of the daughters of Israel. We invite him to leave the regeneration of the world to Providence, and turn his attention to this particular achieve ment. no We assure him we are not at all weary of Christianity, and that it is by means a worn-out creed, but that, on the contrary, it will grow with the growth of civilisation, will strike deeper and deeper root into humanity, and will at friend, To afford me some repose and stay my tears, *"Why," asks Tassoni, "upon the left side?" And he adds, "Perhaps because the left side of the poet's bed was turned towards the door of the chamber;" (it would hardly be necessary for a spirit to come in at the door) "or perhaps because he was in the habit of sleeping on his left side, and she placed herself there that she might look him in the face." Other commentators have suggested that it might be because the heart is on the left side; or because things of good omen, according to the ancients, appeared upon that side. The last interpretation may receive some confirmation from a passage in the third is represented under the form of a wild creature with a human face, appearing from the right; and in this canzone of the same series, where, in a vision, Laura instance the augury is evil, for she is chased by hounds, which presently destroy her. And these sweet fallacies, ever thy fond theme, To balance with just beam: And follow me, if truth be in thy vows; Gathering, thereby, high prize of similar boughs." V. "I wished to ask, what mean those two green sprays?" I then resumed: and, gently, in return, She thus: "Solve thou, thyself, what thou would'st learn, Who with thy pen hast given the one such praise. VICTORY the palm: and I, even in young O'ercame the world, myself: the laurel, sign By grace of that GREAT LORD who gave Then thou from error's course Turn, turn to HIM-HIS saving health implore, That we may yet meet, when thy race is o'er." The next morning Frederick Wilson having breakfasted, and arrayed himself in a costume which became his now elegant and gentlemanly mien, and without for a moment thinking of returning to his duties for his money seemed to him an inexhaustible sum-started on his way to visit the Cartwrights, and thus obtain some explanation of Mary's sudden disappearance on the previous night. The house reached, he gave a modest and even hesitating knock, which however was rapidly answered by a neatly-costumed servant girl. "Whom do you please to want, sir?" she inquired with a curtsey. 66 Mrs. Cartwright, is she at home?" "I will see, sir; what name shall I say?" "Mr. Wilson," he replied, somewhat astonished. The girl closed the door and hastened up stairs. "A change has taken place," muttered our hero. "Thank you, I am better." "I hope no illness caused Miss Cartwright to leave last night so early," he inquired timidly. "A slight indisposition. But I am sorry I can't detain you, Mr. Wilson-I have to go out-I will convey your kind inquiries to Miss Cartwright." Wilson, too much astonished at this reception to say anything, stammered forth good morning, and retired in the utmost confusion. Passing the servant, he paused: "Is Miss Cartwright at home?" he said. The girl hesitated. "He" and Wilson slipped half-a crown into her hand. Continued from page 224. Very good; be my friend, and you shall not repent it." Next minute Wilson was in the street. Without entering the shop, where he saw H. Smith, apparently unconscious of his presence, standing dispensing behind the counter, he hurried along and speedily reached Oxford-street. As he entered within it, a carriage turned the corner and drew up. Within it sat a woman of surprising beauty and richly clothed. She was apparently looking at the name of the Wilson looked at her, and their street. eyes met. There was something in this look which struck both, for the lady blushed and Wilson looked confused, and was apparently about to hurry away. "Excuse me, sir," said the lady, leaning from her carriage, “but my coachman is very stupid, he is a Frenchman, and knows not London. Where is Berners-street.” This was said in good English, but with a slight French accent. Wilson, still his eyes fixed on her lovely countenance, pointed it out. "You are very kind, sir, and from thence to Pall Mall.” "Really, madam, I fear you will scarcely recollect my directions." "Ah! excuse my foreign frankness, but if Monsieur would show me." "Oh! madame,” replied our hero, quite confused. "You are too kind," said the lady, with a bewitching smile; "but allow me to offer you a seat.' what had passed at the Cartwrights, and The young man half bewildered with still more at his strange and incomprehensible meeting with so lovely a personage, found himself seated beside the charming French woman, ere he could think twice. Thanking the fair occupant, and sinking back upon the soft cushions, Wilson was about endeavouring to rally his wandering thoughts, when he saw Mrs. and sad-faced daughter, coming up the Cartwright leaning on the arm of her pale street, their eyes fixed upon the carriage. Wilson, he knew not why, turned pale, and leaned his head upon his hand. "Why, Monsieur," exclaimed his companion, gaily," this is quite a romance of the olden time. One would say, Queen Margot carrying off a Bretagne knight." "The comparison is well applicable to you," said Wilson, endeavouring to rally, but his face almost belying his words. 66 You are gallant; I had not thought your nation guilty of such lightness." * And yet you know us well; you speak our language like a native." "You flatter, sir; but I have lived much with one English person, my mother." "Ah! indeed; and do you reside now in England." "For the opera season?" Wilson raised his eyes inquiringly to her face. "You belong to the company?" "Ah, sir, and do you ask me that; I thought you recognised me." "No!" exclaimed Wilson, in unfeigned surprise; "I never was at the opera." 66 "What!' exclaimed the lady, with wideopened eyes; are you not Mr. Graham, brother of Captain Graham, introduced to me after the opera last evening." "No, my name is Wilson; pardon me if I have intruded." The lady laughed heartily. "This indeed is an adventure," she cried; "but as we have met, and you have been so polite, allow me the satisfaction of thanking you in my own house-besides," she added, gravely, "ask me no questions, but I would know you better." Mysterious this," laughed Wilson, "but I am too polite to ask a lady for reasons." You are sarcastic, Monsieur." 66 "Not at all, or if so, uuintentionally." Gradually the fair stranger, whose name she said was Eugenia, drew the young man into conversation about himself; and flattered by the interest apparently exhibited, he told her all, even the minutest details connected with the events of the last few days. "You love this girl?" she said, with a stern smile. "I do." "Frederick Wilson," exclaimed Eugenia, "she shall be yours, put faith in me. But come, sir, you are very gallant to tell this to a Frenchwoman, who has violently laid hold of you, and is bearing you away into captivity in her carriage." 66 Truly, madam, it seems strange; but not more strange than our meeting." "Nothing more simple," replied Euge nia. "How, madam? The days of romance are over. "But I was waiting for you." "For me, madam!" exclaimed Frederick, colouring violently; "really I—” "Mr. Wilson," replied the young Frenchwoman, gravely, "put no false constructions on my words. But waiting for you I was, and with a purpose which one day you will know; you are a much more important personage than you think your self. But mind one thing. Whatever I may have been, I am now your friend." "Madam," again exclaimed Frederick, still more astonished, "I cannot understand." "Nor will you just now. Leave it to me, and be sure you have found a true friend." "I believe you; but all this trouble about a poor orphan, who never knew his pa rents." "Never knew your parents!" said Eugenia, fixing her eyes with curiosity upon him. "I never did." 66 How were you brought up?" "At a village in Devonshire, where, until eighteen, I remained with a Dr. Granger. About this time he died, and with a few pounds in my pocket, I came to London to seek my fortune." "And did the Doctor know your pa rents?" "I believe he did, but died too suddenly to make me acquainted with the fact. Besides, I was away at the time, and he was attended by a stranger, who left ere I returned." "Young man," said Eugenia, warmly, "you have enemies-enemies who fear you; now men are not feared unless in them is power to injure those who tremble at their name. Some wrong has been done you, we will find it out." 66 We, madam!" Yes, you; whom I was to be made an instrument of ruining." "You, madam! I cannot think it." "You shall soon know all, but here we are at my house. Come in; it is necessary to my plans you should be often here.” Despite the young man's affection for Mary, he did not the less reply that the necessity was a very charming one indeed, and imposed no very rude duty upon him. "We shall see, Mr. Wilson. But know that you will be always welcome." The apartments into which Wilson was ushered were small, but furnished in the peculiar style of elegance which particularly appertains to those who fret their hour upon the stage. There was a charming piano, a harp, music in abundance, pictures of celebrated singers covered the walls, while everywhere were signs of the presiding spirit of the place-the taste of a woman. "Where is Madame Berly?" inquired Eugenia of the servant who preceded them. "She is in her room, mademoiselle," replied the waiting-maid. "Call her, then." "I hope I do not intrude." Wilson looked surprised and bewildered. "More mysteries. Miss Berly, I beseech you keep me no more in suspense. What plans are connected with me?" "One of vast importance to the plotter, and still more to you." "You are soon back," said a tall and commanding woman, of somewhat stern countenance, as she entered the room. Yes, and after meeting with success, as this gentleman's presence will testify." "My daughter!" exclaimed the mother, with an air of surprise and terror. "My mother, I see through all the objects of our patron. Unwittingly, indeed, did I set about the task assigned, but when this gentleman, with a frankness which is the first charm of his character-" Frederick bowed and blushed simultaneously. "Told me his history and hopes, I saw all. Excuse me one moment, sir," and the actress drew her mother aside. "Look in his face, and tell me, mother, if you see no likeness in him to one much loved by you; I even can trace it." "Great God, child!-ah! yes. The very hair and eyes. Eugenia, I am sure-" "But hush, mother, we have yet much to learn. I begin to know that our suspicions have been all along correct. He knows of the husband's place of concealment." "Could it be he who has caused all this?" said the mother. "I could lay my life on it. Mr. Wilson, my mother invites you to dine with us,' continued Eugenia; "and while we wait, pray give us some account of your young days?" "A stranger," continued Madame Berly, 66 you may think my questions impertinent, but, be assured, I ask them not idly." "I am sure of it, madam; and will answer with pleasure.” "You remember your arrival at Dr. Granger's?" "As if it were yesterday. I was nearly ten years old. My mother had just died." Do you remember her?" 66 came and took me away. We travelled for several hours, and when it was quitè dark, we arrived at a school; here I was put, and never quitted it for eight long years." "Have you seen that man since?" "I sometimes fancy that I have-lately." "Indeed!" "Yes; but it seem to be in my dreams." "Frederick Wilson," exclaimed Madame Berly, "the hand of God is visible in this; to Him give thanks. A little caution, and the schemes of years will be overthrown." With these words she rose, took from the mantlepiece a closed miniature, and suddenly opened it before the young man's eyes. 66 pale. 66 My mother!" cried Wilson, turning My sister's child, come to my heart," said the elder lady. 66 Madam," exclaimed our hero, more and more bewildered every moment. "Yes, my nephew," replied Madame Berly, with tears in her eyes, " and it is against you that he would have had us conspire-against you that he would have us be false." 66 My dear cousin," said Eugenia, wiping her fine eyes. 66 'My dear cousin," replied Wilson, "but for Heaven's sake explain all this?" "Maurice Herbert," said Madame Berly, "for that is your name; your mother married-against the wishes of her friends, and particularly against the wish of her brother, Henry Cartwright Hastings, my brother-Captain Herbert. He died soon after your birth, and your mother, deserted and denied by all her relations, died of grief and poverty. It is said, her brother made search for her, employing one who had his entire confidence; this man said that he failed to find her, and we all believed him. That man took you to Dr. Granger's, and yet to us reported you dead before your mother." "But with what object?" 66 Many; for oh, now do I see it all. But the name-quick, the name," continued she, suddenly, "of this girl whom you love." "Mary Cartwright." "Your uncle's wife and child, hid in his house. Oh, villany, villany. I see it all." "Another cousin!" "Yes. But now, dear Maurice," continued the lady, "let me recommend you caution. You know H. Smith?" "I do," replied Maurice, blushing. "Well, of this man beware-he is your enemy.' Our hero, with terror on his face, related his connections with the benevolent apothecary. |