There is gold in California; but ever keep in thought, That gold itself, the adage says, too dearly may be bought; Should you succeed, your gathered gains will always be secure, THE FURNITURE-BROKER'S SHOP. BY CORNELIUS COLVILLE. THE philosopher who is fond of speculating upon human nature, and the vicissitudes and changes to which mankind are exposed, would do well to locate himself in a large city ;-watch closely and eagerly the different traits of character he sees exhibitedthe scenes that are perpetually passing before his eyes, and to penetrate, as it were, into the recesses of the human heart, and divine the causes that have been instrumental in propagating the bulk of human actions. Here is a field of observation spread before him—here is a dish, if he be a philosopher indeed, that his palate will not fail to relish. The man who shuts himself up in his study, pores over his musty, worm-eaten volumes, and cons the recondite lucubrations of ancient or modern writers, is but a fool in worldly wisdom and experience, in comparison with the illiterate blockhead who mixes in society, trades with mankind, and is constantly alive to everything that is passing around him. As we were passing through one of the crowded thoroughfares of the city, in a somewhat speculative mood, our attention was arrested by a FURNITURE-BROKER'S SHOP. We had no idea of entering into a matrimonial contract with any young lady of our acquaintance, but we nevertheless stood and gazed for several minutes upon the articles therein exhibited. What a variety -what a medley of things jumbled together-upside-down, one upon another! Chairs, stools, tables, sofas, mirrors, pianos, etc. placed here and there, without reference to order or uniformity. Some of the furniture was nearly new, and manufactured after the latest fashion-some was very old, in short, ready to fall to pieces, and of a style so singular and quaint, as to cause it to appear exceedingly ridiculous, when placed by the side of furniture of a more modern character. It was not the disorder and confusion so apparent, nor yet the style and make of the articles themselves that arrested our attention. The first question that presented itself was, how has this heterogeneous mass of furniture been accumulated? At public sales. The things exposed belonged, perhaps, to people that are dead, or who have left the country, or become bankrupts. It would be quite possible to attach a long story to any one of the articles that the shop contains. There is something mournful and touching in the sales of household furniture. What peculiar trains of thought do they suggest, how ready and quick is the imagination to conjure up and invent scenes in which is assigned to each chair and table, its own particular part in the picture. Here, in the centre of the room, stood the table, it is covered with cards; the young people have been amusing themselves with speculation, ecarte, &c. On each side of the fire-place stood the arm-chairs, on which papa and mamma were accustomed to sit, watch the progress of the game, laugh at any peculiar manifestation of shrewdness on the part of little Emmy or Hal, decide disputes, or check any attempt at cheating on the part of that sly little rogue Fred, who was determined to win, either fairly or foully. At these arm-chairs were the children accustomed to kneel every night, and say their prayers, there did they receive the parental blessing and instruction, there were they caressed and kissed before they bade mamma and papa good night. Near to mamma's chair stood the sofa, (it was then nearly new) on which grandmamma used to lie down when she was fatigued, and where she used to scold the children when they were making a noise, or when they awoke her from her pleasant slumbers. On that sofa, too, did little Emmy lie when she was recovering from the measels. How much better was she there, than in the bed surrounded with curtains in that dark, cold room up stairs. How delighted she was, when after her three weeks' illness, she was carried by papa into the parlour, and laid upon the sofa, and allowed to play again with her brothers, and her old favourite Tray. What things people brought for her,oranges, jellies, raisins, grapes, &c., three-fourths of which were always eaten by her brothers. The tops of those foot-stools, and that fire-screen, were worked by little Emmy when she was at school. What a prodigy her mamma and papa thought she was, what fine things her governess used to say about her. There never was such a clever child—nobody could do such wonderful things with the needle as she could, and she was only ten years of age. How often were these specimens of her talent exhibited, and how the ladies and gentlemen used to praise her, and kiss her, and call her a clever little girl. Why when they were shown to old uncle Travers, who was known to be exceedingly mean and selfish, even he was so much pleased with them, that he opened his purse, almost for the first time in his life on such an occasion, and presented his little niece with half-acrown. It would be impossible to adduce a stronger proof of the little needlewoman's ability. Close to the window stood the piano, that was bought for Emmy. How transported she was, when the men brought it into the room and screwed on the legs, and put in the sounding board. How she longed to run her little fingers over the keys. What suspense she endured till papa returned from his business, and unlocked the instrument. What fighting and. quarrelling and disputing there was, as to whether Emmy, or Hal, or Fred, was to play upon it first. Then there was the music-stool, what trouble they had with that. It was too low for Emmy, and it was too high for the boys; none of them, indeed, could sit upon it, so a chair was brought, and Emmy tried that, but it was likewise too low. At length, they placed some cushions upon it, and in this way succeeded in enabling the young tyro to sound the chords of the instrument. What a rich, mellow tone it sent forth; Emmy was delighted, she fancied she could play already, the boys were delighted, papa and mamma were delighted, every body was delighted. Then Jane came running up from the kitchen, she had heard the sound of the piano, she too had an ear for music, and had not listened in vain to the street organ, that was in the habit of playing "The Drops of Brandy," regularly every morning in front of the house. Then the boys set to quizzing poor Jane, and asked her to sit down, and play them a quadrille, and they would have a dance, at which both papa and mamma laughed heartily. Little Emmy did not laugh, she was too much absorbed in her employment in striking the keys, and noting the different sound each produced; ah! that was an important epoch in these little people's history, when the piano was bought. Which of them will forget the night, when the professional young lady, (Miss Scram) came to give Emmy her first lesson, when she sat down at the instrument, when she ran her long fingers over the keys, when she struck three or four of them several times, as though they did not please her, when she lifted up the lid of the piano, and took out the sounding board, when she placed her foot upon the pedal, and put the sounding board in again, when she did all this, I say, preparatory to commencing; which of them can possibly forget that night? What excitement there was, what breathless, eager expectation! Every body was convinced that she was a great musician, everybody could perceive that she knew what a piano was, by her going through this important and essential ceremony before she began to play. And when she did commence, were not they delighted, were not they enraptured and surprised? They had no idea till now, that it was half so fine an instrument, that it was capable of producing such exquisite music. And that inquisitive, prying slut Jane seemed to have had no idea of it either, for she had remained in the kitchen till this moment; but when the music commenced in earnest, she bounded up the stairs, and came slyly and stealthily to the parlour door, where she stood, till her mistress invited her in. So soon as Miss Scram had finished, and represented the piano to be a very excellent one, (and surely she ought to be a judge) it would be quite impossible to recount half of the fine compliments that were paid to that lady. I have heard Mozart, and Beethoven, and Thalberg lauded for the brilliancy of their execution, but I am certain that if Miss Scram had been equal to any of those illustrious persons, she could not have had more praise showered upon her. After such an achievement as that, of course, every body predicted that Miss Scram would obtain great eminence in her profession. Well, then the wine and some sweet cakes were placed on the table, and Miss Scram and the family made themselves very comfortable and agreeable for the next half hour. As it was now, however, getting late, Miss Scram proposed to give her little pupil her first lesson, but she did not learn much on this occasion, for both Fred and Hal would insist upon remaining in the room, and standing beside the piano, and striking the keys for their own amusement, and so diverting little Emmy's attention from the instructions of her preceptress, and so annoying and perplexing Miss Scram, and so rendering the lesson almost useless to her pupil. Ah! that piano, what merry, what happy times is it associated with. How often has its chords thrilled through the heart at a birthday-an evening party. How often, too, has its solemn music been invoked on quiet sabbath evenings on occasions of sorrow or affliction. There was a time when Emmy (Miss Emma, now) had be come older when she had got a lover. How many times has he bent over her shoulder-watched the rapidity of her fingers -exchanged significant glances with her, as she has played over some favourite piece of music! How many times has he stood there, entranced with the pathos of her singing, or the beauty and finish of her playing! There, on that sofa, did his arm first encircle her waist—there were those mutual vows of constancy and fidelity exchanged— there did they paint to themselves a future, in which love and prosperity and happiness were the most prominent features. Oh! that the curtain that hid that future from their eyes, had never been drawn, to reveal the harshness and the cold reality that lay beyond! And what a price was set upon those pictures painted by Fred. How fine was the outline-the perspective-the colouring the different lights and shades; and how well did the whole harmonize. What a great achievement it was, when you consider that he was just beginning to paint. Of course, he painted a long way better afterwards, but there was more value placed upon them than any of the chef d'œuvres he subsequently produced. As you entered the room, the first thing that met your eyes was the book-case that had been in the family for nearly a hundred years. It was quaint and old fashioned, but not the less valued on that account. That was to have been Hal's, had he lived, he was so fond of books. Of a night, it was his chief delight to hunt amongst its well filled shelves, till he had discovered some volume that pleased his fancy. It contained every description of reading-Travels, History, Biography, Philosophy, light and amusing literature, etc. etc. There is that in each household article, be it the most trifling, which is capable of arousing reflection, and recalling most vividly to the memory, the most minute circumstances of by-gone years. We prize those things from association. We love the piano on which we took our first lesson-that has contributed to the amusement and entertainment of our merry Christmas parties. We love the sofa, whereon we and our dearest friends have laid in sickness, on which we have romped as children: the arm-chairs, becasue they were the favourite sitting places of a father or a mother. We prize the stools on which we first exhibited our talents and ability. In fine, an attachment gradually and imperceptibly springs up for the most common-place thing, with which we may have been for a series of years associated; and which has become of primary importance to our comfort and convenience. It is difficult to part with these objects of our affection. But |