One great benefit, which may be reckoned among Mr. Malthus's checks to population, will certainly result from the present mysterious mode of letter writing; that it will lessen the number of love letters, and, consequently, of elopements and imprudent marriages: for where neither of two correspondents understand what is mutually written, no great harm can arise from the correspondence. It was the golden age of lovers when epistolary correspondence was carried on in hieroglyphics; secrecy, which is really the great art of letter writing, was thus satisfactorily obtained; and the advantage would doubtless have continued had not the unhappy invention of unequivocal letters, by Cadmus, intervened. The art of cryptography was the legitimate means resorted to for correcting this unfortunate perversion; and it occurs to me, that practitioners might derive considerable advantage from consulting Bishop Wilkin's "Secret and Swift Messenger;" where, among other recipes for billets-doux, that worthy interpreter of the Universal Language, recommends to amatory scribes to write with sal ammoniac, juice of lemon, dissolved alum, onion juice, white of eggs, and distilled juice of glow-worms. In the last instance, it is true, Mrs. Glasse's ingenious prelude to the recipe for cooking a dolphin, namely, "First catch a dolphin," stands somewhat in the way. There is, however, one still more important defect in the good Bishop's theory, which is this; that the meaning of his proposed communications is meant to be understood, though only by a limited few. This was certainly a great mistake to make. True love-letter writing should be understood by no one. It is, besides, to be feared that the skill of the decypherer will be employed to counterwork the skill of the cypherer: that the precious secrecy of epistolary correspondence may be impaired thereby; and that neither business nor love may, for any length of time, be safely trusted to paper. The only obvious remedy is to resort to the cryptography invented by the Beau Monde, of which the loveletter which suggested these admiring remarks is a specimen. The few inconveniences which attend this sublime art, namely, such mistakes as it is calculated to produce, by scattering false lights on the friendly darkness so propitious to reflection and love, are not worth naming. A peep at beauty through the veil of mystery, is, as a very skilful marchande des modes knows, a very powerful cause of attraction. Assuredly, a letter ought to contain information; and, assuredly, information ought to excite curiosity; and, assuredly, nothing can excite a complete fever of curiosity more effectually than the necessity of spelling every syllable of a Love-Letter.

G

A POET'S HOME.

An unsubstantial faery place,-
That is fit home for thee.

Wordsworth.

I.

THOUGH the lark is of the sky,
Singeth loud and soareth high,
He, the minstrel of the morn,
Hath his nest beneath the corn.-
Poplars, and their kind, may flaunt
Towering in the public haunt;
Violets, deathless in perfume,
Have a hidden place of bloom;
Then should poet choose his home
Underneath a gaudy dome?
He, to bird and flower a-kin,
Dwell amid the city's din ?---
Listen Child of Song to me,
I will deck a bower for thee.

II.

Low, and white, yet scarcely seen
Are its walls, for mantling green;
Not a window lets in light,
But through flowers clustering bright;
Not a glance may wander there
But it falls on something fair :-
Garden choice, and faëry mound,
Only that no elves are found;
Winding walk, and sheltered nook,
For student grave, and graver
book;
Or a bird-like bower, perchance,
Fit for maiden and romance.
Then, far off, a glorious sheen
Of wide and sun-lit waters seen,
Hills, that in the distance lie,
Blue and yielding as the sky ;—
And nearer, closing round the nest---
The home-of all, the "living crest,"
Other rocks and mountains stand,
Rugged, yet a guardian band,
Like those, that did in fable old,
Elysium from the world enfold.

June, 1825.

III.

POET, though such dower be thine,
Deem it not as yet divine.

What shall outward sign avail,
If the answering spirit fail?
What this beauteous dwelling be,
If it hold not hearts for thee?---
If thou call its charms thine own,
Yet survey those charms alone?
List again:-companions meet
Thou shalt have in thy retreat.

IV.

ONE of long tried love and truth,
Thine in age, as thine in youth;
One whose locks of partial grey
Whisper somewhat of decay;
Yet whose bright and beaming eye
Tells of more, that cannot die:
Then, a second form beyond,
Thine too, by another bond,
Sportive, tender, graceful, wild,
Scarcely woman, more than child,--
One who doth thy heart entwine,
Like the ever-clinging vine;
One, to whom thou art a stay,
As the oak, that scarred and grey
Standeth on, and standeth fast,
Strong and stately to the last!

THE KNIGHT OF THE PLUMELESS HELM.

A TALE OF CHIVALRY.

ON the evening of the first of June, in the year 1280, being the ninth of the glorious reign of Edward Longshanks, a mail-clad knight and his gentle page trotted side by side along the borders of one of those almost interminable forests, which despite the arbitrary decrees of the first and second Williams, still flourished in majestic grandeur in many parts of our island. Behind them the western horizon was glowing with all the gorgeous tints of gold, purple, and vermilion, while the beams of the now invincible sun were radiating lovelily over half the heavens and the upper regions of the earth, giving to every thing whereon they rested, or over which they passed, an air of Eastern and romantic splendour. Before them, on the other hand, the gossamer curtains of evening were slowly and regularly enveloping the different objects of creation in their fairy web, and giving to their thousand hues one dark and sober livery. The grass was already glittering with the falling dew; the woodbine was closing its snowy blossoms, which during the day had peeped like stars from beneath the thick foliage of the wild underwood; and the blue-bell, and robin-in-the-edge nodded in humble obedience to the passing zephyr, or what is equally probable, in token of adoration, to the sparkling countenance of the celestial Venus, which might now be distinguished in the heavens above.

The outward appearance of the knight was by no means calculated to strike dismay into the heart of the beholder: there was, indeed, something Quixotic about him, for which, without the knowledge of his history, it would have been difficult to account. His hauberk, which consisted of one of those chain dresses so famous in the annals of crusading chivalry, was covered with apparently long accumulated rust. His helmet, which for want of the lighter basinet he was obliged to wear constantly, was in the same unknightly condition, and lacked, beside, its most distinguishing ornament-the white plume with which it was wont to be decorated. Its elaborate workmanship, however, intimated that its wearer was something more than an errant knight, and there was a je ne sais quoi about his port and bearing which, despite his outward ludicrous appearance, fully confirmed the impression. His gauntleted right hand grasped a lance of somewhat formidable length, whilst an empty scabbard hung suspended by a tarnished baldric upon his left thigh. Behind him was slung a shield, which though now dull and lustreless, had evidently in former days gleamed with transcendent brightness; and its centre was ornamented with the representation of an inverted crescent upon a spear's point, above which the motto bon coup was inscribed, and established beyond a doubt the fact of its having in its prouder days been wielded triumphantly over the consecrated plains of Palestine. Our hero's jet black steed, unlike himself, was in most excellent condition, and would have done honour to the renowned Launcelot du Lac, or the chivalrous Paladins of Charlemagne !

The youthful companion of our preux cavalier rode upon a grey pony that looked more like a native of Plimlimmon, or Penmaen Mawr, than the well taught palfrey of a gentle page. His dress was of dark

brown, and in the front of a bonnet, which became him admirably, rose a single heron's feather; whilst a bag, containing a small Spanish guitar, in the handling of which the stripling was no novice, was secured by a leathern strap across the shoulders, and rested upon the cautle of the saddle.

"Come hither, boy," said the knight to his young fellow traveller, whose rude palfrey ambled silently beside the prouder war horse of his master. ""Tis a houseless track that they have sent thee; art sure that thou art right?"

"Sure, sir knight, that I follow the directions given me, but not sure that those directions are correct.'

66

"I fear me, then," added he of the plumeless helm, we must sleep to-night under the green wood tree, with the sky for our canopy, and the green sward for our bed: what sayest thou to that, my pretty page?"

"We've slept so oft of late, sir knight, upon a damp couch, that we need not, I think, be apprehensive of catching cold."

“Well said, and wittily, my boy! The earth too is softer than a prison floor, and freedom may be set off against its other advantages. May thy next master's favours teach thee to forget what thou hast suffered in my behalf. Heaven will, doubtless, soon free thee from the service of Sir Gaston de Biern."

66

Heaven, I hope," said the page, "will at least keep me loyal! and if my lord would but confide to my keeping the secret of his grief, I vow by the shrine of á Becket I never will prove a traitor!" The tear stood in young Eric's eye as he gave expression to his feelings, which the knight perceiving, once more addressed him.

"He that dares call thee such, will do it at his peril, while Gaston de Biern has power to aid thee! Nor will I give thee any longer cause to think that I suspect thy loyalty: attend then, while I gratify thy wish. Eight years ago, young as thou art thou may'st perhaps remember it— my liege, the warlike Edward, wrested from my hold the fair possessions of my ancestors-I was branded with the foul name of rebel, unknighted, and imprisoned. Justice is sometimes deaf as well as blind. Whilst my gallant sovereign tarried upon his return from Palestine, at the Sicilian court of Charles, his lady, Eleanor, received into her train the fairest and the proudest of the daughters of Britain: among them was one whose matchless beauty fired my soul with love. I asserted successively the superiority of her charms in the tourney and the joust, using all honourable means to merit her affection; and not altogether in vain, if this memorial prove not the pledge of falsehood, (here Sir Gaston, ungauntleting his hand, exhibited to his page a ring formed of a plaited lock of dark brown hair, ornamented with a small bright topaz)." John de Langeville," he continued, 66. was my rival in the maiden's love; and jealous of the preference shewn me, resolved upon my ruin. He whispered vague rumours in Edward's ear, touching my visits to the queen's apartments, and my liege lord, in the full presence