And then-yes, oh then !
Had I only the pen

Of Homer, to tell how the fiercest of men
Stood by, wonder-o'ermaster'd,

Like a fellow pitch-plaster'd,*

Confounded, struck all of a heap, flabbergaster'd !

"Oh, Edgar! dear Edgar, oh bear me away!"
(As if Edgar could bear anything but a tray,)
Cried Hilda, despairing: "I'm thine, Edgar, thine!"
(Here Edgar got funky and upset the wine),

"Oh shield and protect me from yonder vile wretch !
(Thinks Edgar, "I'm safe for the hands of Jack Ketch,
And oh what a neck for a halter to stretch !")

And while Hilda still sobb'd in way quite hysteric, Oh,
Edgar! my loved one!" he wish'd her at Jericho.

"So, so!" at length Sir Dragonhead cries,
"Embracing my page, and before my eyes!
Very pretty, my lady! we'll very soon settle
This little affair: for a girl of your mettle
To wed such a pitiful rascal as this

Would be highly improper, my fierce little miss.
Ho! warder, below there! just send up a guard—
One man will be plenty-get ready a yard
Of rope, with a noose to it, fix'd in the wall,
And let this young gentleman quietly fall
As far as 'twill let him, made fast to his throat,
And dangle to frighten the rats in the moat!

'Tis done in a minute! the terrified fellow
Has scarcely a moment to shriek and to bellow,
Ere the rope and himself are alike "in a fix,"
And over the ramparts suspended he kicks!

Poor fellow poor fellow !-well, reader, don't weep,
We'll give you a sort of a privileged peep

Behind the stage curtain of tragedy green,
That ought to be dropp'd on this terrible scene.

The warder was not a bad fellow in grain,
And didn't quite wish the poor page to be slain,
So he'd taken good care that the terrible noose
Should be tied in a knot so agreeably loose
That the victim was sure to escape with a pitch

Of some twenty feet headlong, right into the ditch,

Where he kick'd and he flounder'd, but got out at length,

And bolted with all the remains of his strength.

Of course Lady Hilda had fainted away,
And for many a long hour insensible lay;

* A rival of the "garotte," coming again into fashion - Burking redivivus.

But dreaming of pages in blue and gold suits,

Some hung by the hair, and some hung by the boots;
Some fair and some dark, and some short and some tall,
Some handsome, some ugly, some "so-so," but all,
For some crime, some omission, or p'raps some pretence,
Unpleasantly placed in a "state of suspense."

And each poor wretch of the ghastly band,
Pointed to her with his bony hand,
And opened a cold and fishy eye,
And said with a most unearthly sigh-
"Here we hang for endless ages,
Torn from life-unhappy pages!"

But the dream is over, the lady wakes,
And a half-scared glance at her chamber takes,
And close to her pillow she finds a scroll,
Convey'd on the sly by the warder, good soul,
To ease her alarms touching Edgar's demise;
And ne'er did she read with more blessed surprise,
And never were words more devotedly kiss'd,
Though they were in a very remarkable fist.

"He ain't been hung. With a bit of a duck he Got out of the moat and he's cut his lucky."

Many revolving years have fled

Over the Lady Hilda's head;
Many a year since Hilda wed
The doughty knight Sir Dragonhead;
Many a laughing child is seen
Sporting or tottering between
The hero and his stately dame,
Who (if we trust to common fame)
Now rules her lord in such a way
That all the folks around them say
So great a shrew was never known
So meek a hen-peck'd spouse to own!

And 'tis said that when once she 'd establish'd her sway

In this very decided and feminine way,

She ask'd, as the first boon her husband must give her, he
Should change most completely the family livery,

Putting dark green and silver instead, as of old,
Of those suits of cerulean purple and gold.

Touching Edgar, the page, we have only one word,
Ere we close our historic romance, to record,

He got safe into England-p'raps thinner and paler-
And became a most highly respectable tailor!

Moral.

If in search of a wife
As a partner for life,

With a hatred of "rows" and a horror of strife, 'Twixt ladies who're "blues"

And ladies who're shrews,

It's sometimes a difficult matter to choose.
But of one thing be sure,

For an ill without cure,

There's nothing so bad, nor so apt to allure,
As sentimentality,
Feigned "ideality,”

Nothing but humbug in sober reality.
For, the sentiment flown,

It's a fact that's well known,

The lady has always a will of her own;
And your heart should you barter

For hers, you're a martyr,

And you'll find out the meaning of "catching a Tartar.”

Relief may be near, though you don't see it "loom.”
At the very last gasp,

When grim death seem'd to clasp

The poor page, he contrived to escape from its grasp;
For there's many a slip

'Twixt the cup and the lip,

And it's very strong poison that kills with one sip.

ADVENTURES OF A FIRST SEASON.

IN FOUR CHAPTERS.

CHAPTER I.

YEARS had passed by, years loaded with the rich hues of happiness that gild the days of laughing, innocent girlhood. No care to ruffle-no sorrow to obscure-no sigh to damp, even for a moment, the tranquil contentment of school-room occupations, where liberty and constraint are so happily mingled, that it is impossible to define where the one ends and the other begins! The chains, if chains there are, are woven in flowers, and the flowers have no thorns. Delicious girlhood! so fresh— so confiding-so inquiring-opening to all the successive phases of life, all alike new and delightful. The present joyful, but the future fraught with vague, dreamy, shadowy expectation! London-coming-out-ballsdancing-beaux-lovers' presents-orange flowers-husbands-marriage -and heaven knows what beside, filling up the interstices of a young lady's brilliant imagination; making her thrill with rapture as each successive image passes with kaleidoscope rapidity before her mental vision !

Our little friend, who was introduced so prematurely to the sanctum of royalty, had grown up and prospered, having now arrived at that charming age, seventeen. In the solitude of the country, she had well pondered on all the wonders, the marvellous developments, that awaited her début. What happy day-dreams, undisturbed by a single cloud, for, with her fortune, she felt well assured of at least her due share of attention, and stood in no dread of blushing, solitary and unseen, in the corner of a ball-room. A country education had improved and strengthened a character naturally decided, but was not adapted to give her the slightest insight into the world; and at the time she started for town, she was as very a little rustic as ever stared into a print shop. Men and manners were to her undeveloped mysteries, no less unfathomable than the knottiest point ever argued by theologians. She looked on the first -men-as curious and extraordinary animals, whose notice and admiration might doubtless be desirable, and certainly were agreeable, but whom she was profoundly ignorant how to please or attract, and almost to converse with. As to the latter part-the manners-these she interpreted to mean holding herself upright, wearing gloves, answering properly when addressed, and not tearing her dress. She really was a curious specimen of a country Miss, when she first came to town. But why should I say she for am I not describing myself? Let me drop the third person, and adopt the honest vowel, " I," in describing my adventures.

Some country squires had gazed on me and sighed deeply sighed in the fear of not securing my fortune; but they were but poor Tony Lumpkins after all, and even I had wit enough to perceive their views without wearing spectacles. Besides, the idea of settling down in the country, when all the undefined future, lit up with golden visions, was before me! Such madness was not to be contemplated. I fancied myself great-a countess perhaps my lady-how delightful! I never

would marry a plain mister, that was certain; and I had doubts whether even an earl were high enough. Visions of poetical romantic youthshandsome of course-haunted me. I conjured up just such a hero as might ornament the title page of an illustrated romance-with curling hair-open shirt collar and neckerchief tied à la Byron. Then I imagined him on his knees before me, calling me his angel-his love-his life&c.; and I jumped from my chair, and danced round the drawingroom, which being rather small was not expansive enough, so I added a rapid run in the flower-garden. I was convinced that I could not make my appearance at a London ball, without meeting a dozen lords; so I never had any serious doubts of the realization of my aristocratic dreams, and only waited the happy moment that was to present to my eyes a living lover of the required birth. I felt I should not allow him long to sigh in vain. I should yield-gradually, by degrees-I would give him my hand-perhaps I ought to faint; but if, by reason of robust health, I could not quite manage that, at least I might cry, which always looks interesting. Then he would press me to say "yes; and I should hesitate, and tremble, and be confused, and at last I should say yes!

Oh! it was all exceedingly charming, and life seemed to me then like one great, immense verdant walk, bordered with flowers, and sown with sweets; a clear unclouded sky above, and peopled by smiling faces as glowing with happiness as my own. Alas! why did after years so bitterly belie this dream? Why did the flowers turn into thorns and tare and rend me? Why did the sweets become bitter as gall? Why did the fruit turn into poisonous berries, and the sky become dark with clouds, and storms, and hurricanes, thunder, hail, and lightning burst forth, all pouring down their various furies on my unprotected head? Alas, why? But this is beside my present subject; and I resume. I will not anticipate.

I must say, in self-defence, that these images of lords and dukes were not quite so preposterous as they may appear to the sober reader. There were various families in our neighbourhood of high rank, with whom we were well acquainted, having ever maintained a high position in my native county of B-shire. One noble family, in particular, sought our acquaintance, and, indeed, courted our intimacy; and they were as happy a specimen of exalted rank, united with every endearing quality, as all the peerage could show. Many a happy day have I spent at their princely seat, where all that money and magnificence could procure was lavishly accumulated; the whole enhanced by the courtly urbanity and real hospitality of the noble owners. My lord marquis was dignified, courteous, and loftily-familiar, yet good and kind, in spite of a little pride, in the highest degree. My lady marchioness was all that can be conceived most appropriate in a dame of rank; beautiful in person, stately in manners, unsullied in fame; she was distinguished by a dignity, softened and tempered by amiability, that really was admirable. Never have I beheld rank so gracefully supported as in Lady D whom to know, was to love and to admire. Whether she welcomed a royal duchess, or a simple gentlewoman, to her saloons, all was regulated by the nicest breeding; and each experienced the cordiality and the urbanity of the noble hostess, whose refined good breeding placed every one at ease, and lessened the distinction without forgetting the difference in rank among her various guests

But the one in the whole family that I really loved, was a certain