and Naples; her mother now thought that she was standing in the way of her younger sisters, and that she might by good management have a chance of captivating Sir Larry, the son of a broker desirous of a fashionable connection. Sir Larry, with his tall, lanky person, his large round face, full cheeks, and vacant eyes, was the admired of all beholders. But in vain did Miss Railtravers exert her fascinations upon Sir Larry. She was everything by starts, and nothing long. She varied from the skittish to the matronly, from the lively to the innocent, and even descended to the childish. She was by turns prudent, gay, fashionable, domestic, fond, and coquettish. Had Sir Larry's heart been of bell-metal he could not have been more insensible. Throughout the scene his broad, tawny face, was directed to the other extremity of the room, towards which his large lack-lustre eyes seemed to be spell-bound.

And, what was there at the other end of the room that could so entrance this unfortunate youth? In a recess, upon a couch shaded by drapery, sat the juvenile sylph, Rosa Railtravers. Poor Rosa's face was pale, full of anxiety, pensive, and melancholy. She was too young to conceal the sympathy between the heart and countenance; too pure to practise disguise. Here was the very personification of one "who never told her love, and let concealment prey on the damask cheek;" yet the damask cheek told the story more powerfully to the heart than could ever love-letter to the eye, or parental negotiation to the ear.

The cause of Rosa's melancholy was fathomable to a man of my penetration; for, in the opposite recess, on a couch shadowed by similar drapery, was Mr. Doveways, who gazed on Rosa, looking unutterable tenderness, while he seemed to blush and tremble at his temerity in gazing. Lady Railtravers was sensible of Rosa's exquisite beauty. She counted upon her as the retrieve point of the family fortunes, and predicted that when brought out next season she would immeasurably outstrip all rivalry. Her determination was that Rosa should marry a man of first-rate rank and fortune. Now Mr. Doveways was not a man of title; but, as his uncle, though married, was childless at sixty-seven, he was heir-presumptive to an earldom; and, though as yet a minor, he was within four months of being of age, when he would come into the possession of one of the finest estates in England, with the immense accumulations of a long minority. Oxford and London boasted of him as a well-governed youth, for though spirited and fashionable, he had always been discreet, and had kept himself within the bounds prescribed to him by his guardians and the Court of Chancery. No stripling of aristocracy could be better adapted to Lady Railtravers' ambition, or to Sir George Railtravers' dilapidated affairs, or more calculated by nature to win the heart of the delicate Rosa. Mr. Doveways was rather tall, finely formed, of elegant manners, and with a face intelligent and handsome, though somewhat effeminate; whilst a tone of sentiment in all he spoke was in unison with all he looked and acted. "And this," said I," is to be the husband of the beautiful Rosa? The affection is clearly mutual, and may heaven prosper the unison of their young and ardent loves!"

Rosa was the most perfect of human beings, and I had a strong influence over her, from a friendship of thirty years' standing with her father, and from my intimate acquaintance with her sweetness

of temper, her affectionate, ingenuous, and playful disposition. Rarely had Nature blended in one person so many admirable qualities. She was only in the beginning of girlhood, with every promise of a perfect maturity.

"And, Rosa," said I, after prefaces artfully contrived to lull suspicion, and to draw from a girl the secret of her love,—“ who, dear little Rosa, is the best dancer in the room?"

"You surely must know that," said Rosa.

"My dear little Rosa, no man on earth is more ignorant of such subjects. At the Opera, when I hear one dancer spoken of with ecstasy, and another with equally fervent dislike, I look at both, and can discover no difference."

"But here," said Rosa, "the difference is so plain ;" and poor little Rosa spoke with an approach to a sigh, that showed that her heart trembled on her tongue.

“And who, Rosa, is the best dancer? for I am still in ignorance." "Captain Bruen, to be sure; is is impossible not to perceive that," said she, with an energy I had never before witnessed in her.

I cast my eyes on Captain Bruen, who was then going through a quadrille.

Never was there a finer specimen of the militaire. Captain Bruen was the beau idéal of a soldier. He was six feet two without his shoes; but, though his shoulders and limbs were the most admirable I had ever witnessed for a charge against Napoleon's cuirassiers, they were but little adapted to a drawing-room, still less to a quadrille. He beat the ground with stamps so furious that a modern floor might have quaked under his exertions, and seemed as if inspired by reminiscences of riding rough-shod over the enemy.

Rosa, thought I, is not quite so innocent as I imagined. She is slyly directing my attention from her Mr. Doveways; but it would be odd if a man of my penetration were not a match for a girl of

seventeen.

After a little chat, artfully managed on my part, I said, “Dear Rosa, I would be your lover, but for two causes.

"What causes ?" said the sensitive and tremulous Rosa.

"I am too old, and too poor."

"The last is no objection to a generous heart or disinterested mind."

"Ah, Rosa, but your silence on the first point is the most cruel of expressions. My poverty, as I get older, I shall get rid of by the death of my relations; but my former sin must grow with my growth, and strengthen with my years. But come, tell me, Rosa, who is the finest and handsomest man in the room?"

"The finest and handsomest man," said the simple unsuspecting girl," is unquestionably Captain Bruen."

"If immense stature, and a robust frame,—if powerful limbs constitute the finest man, Captain Bruen is unquestionably-" "But he is so handsome!" said Rosa.

I looked at Captain Bruen, and, as far as a profusion of coal-black curls over his forehead-as far as immense whiskers, huge tufts of hair under his chin, and over his eyes and upper lip, would allow one to get a peep at his face, I was enabled to come to a conclusion that nature, in so handsomely endowing his person, had balanced the account in the formation of his face. He was a hard-featured man,

and his countenance advertised that he had seen much service in climates not favourable to beauty. Captain Bruen was dancing vigorously with a fat lady of forty, who scarcely reached his hip; and whilst the lady's sympathy of exertion made her fat cheeks of the colour of an autumnal gooseberry, the stalwart Captain's face was as dry as parchment.

"But who is the most elegant man ?" said I to the lovely rose-bud Rosa, determined to discover the secret. Rosa coloured, seemed distressed, and made no reply. "Mr. Doveways, Rosa ?" said I archly.

"Pshaw !" said the lovely girl, with almost rudeness.

"Oh, oh," said I to myself; "is the girlish simple Rosa already so cunning?"

The quadrille had ended, and another was to be arranged.

"Rosa, will you dance ?" I asked, with a determination to procure Mr. Doveways for her partner.

"No-yes-I don't know-I can't say now--perhaps I may-not this dance; perhaps I may the next," said little Rosa, her cheeks changing colour, and her beautiful eyes and lips varying in expression at every no and yes

"But beautiful little Rosa, the no or yes depends on the partner, and I can-"

"Oh, I will dance," said Rosa, in a voice too tremulous to be understood; but her emotion spoke her meaning.

"Rosa, you must positively dance," said Lady Railtravers, as I left Rosa to procure for her the partner of her choice, and the future partner of her life.

"My dear mamma, pray leave me alone; I don't think I can dance the next two. I am not well." And Rosa looked at me as if her whole soul depended on my success.

"You will dance, of course," said Sir George to Lady Macedonia Grizzle, who had been eyeing the juvenile dandy Doveways with as much passion as he had been exhibiting towards the lovely Rosa. Lady Macedonia, you will of course dance?"

66

"Faith, I dinna ken; but sence you are so very poleete, I have na muckle objiction to dance the twa next kadreeles."

"You will dance ?" said I to Mr. Doveways, and Mr. Doveways' cheeks coloured like fire.

"Yes," said Mr. Doveways, his eyes beaming with delight at Rosa. All might have been happy,-Rosa might have danced with Mr. Doveways, but Lady Macedonia marred all my arrangements. The high stalwart figure of this lady of fifty, her broad shoulders and projecting wing-like shoulder blades, with hands, ankles, elbows, and cheek-bones to match, did credit to the aboriginal breed of her native mountains.

"Faith, and I will dance the twa," said Lady Macedonia.

Never was man so put to a non plus. When Sir George asked Lady Macedonia, he had conceived that it was as absurd as asking the Monument to dance. But here was a dilemma; a partner must be found; and Lady Macedonia soon cut the gordian knot. Taking Sir George by the hand, and leading him as a victim up to Mr. Doveways, adroitly giving to the company the appearance that she was the lady introduced, she addressed poor Doveways, and said,

"My freend, Sir Geordie, is unco poleete in intraducing ye to me; and faith, Mr. Doveways, I will e'en dance with ye, accarding to your deseeres, for I have long wushed to form your acquaintance; and, as an old Scotch proverb says, 'The maire ye ken, the maire ye leeke.'

Poor Doveways cast a look of wretchedness at Rosa, and bowing profoundly, handed Lady Macedonia to the quadrille, muttering something like "I am very happy." Rosa curtesied pensively as her mother presented to her Sir Larry. Never did a quadrille go off worse. Matilda was enraged at her younger sister's carrying off her beau, and her anger was not decreased by her having to dance with a little elderly foreign Count, who wore powder, and sported a pigtail. Lady Macedonia danced with great prowess at Mr. Dove. ways, who seemed rather to dance from than with her. Poor Rosa moved with submissive apathy, whilst Sir Larry's round cheeks were flushed with satisfaction. Lady Railtravers watched the scene with delight, and whispered to Sir George, that if Sir Larry did not take with Matilda, he was a capital catch for Rosa. The only two dancers that were completely happy were Captain Bruen and his corpulent beauty; for, in spite of etiquette, these two would dance together in this, as they had done in the preceding quadrilles. I enjoyed Lady Railtravers' illusion; for I knew that Mr. Doveways would be a far better match for her daughter Rosa than the other. Never did a match party produce greater disasters. In three weeks Captain Bruen went off with his fat partner; it was entirely a love-match on both sides. Sir Larry, by the advice of a friend, read all the fashionable novels, that he might learn to make love, but in vain; for, in spite of the efforts of both father and mother, Rosa could not bring herself to listen to his addresses. My friend Dove. ways made Rosa an offer ;-never shall I forget my surprise when he showed me her delicate, mild, but firm REFUSAL! Doveways took the disappointment keenly to heart, and went off to Florence. To Florence after him flew Lady Macedonia Grizzle, on account of her health. Sir George and Lady Railtravers repaired to Boulogne.

Poor Rosa, the most beautiful in form and face, the most graceful in manners, the most artless and innocent, the most frank and affectionate, never lived to realise her mother's anticipations. I think I now see her timid varying countenance, and hear the playfulness of her voice, giving charm to her delicacy and young sensations at life opening to her in prospect. Rosa was disappointed in her love, and died early of consumption.

"Never again," said I," will I pique myself upon my penetra tion for never did it strike me that poor Rosa was deeply, fatally in love with Captain Bruen!!!"

EARLY FRIENDSHIP;

OR, THE SLAVE OF PASSION.

HENRY FORTESCUE has been some years numbered with the dead, or the following impressive narrative would not yet have seen the light. Nor would I give it now, were one being in existence who could recognise with any painful sensation the facts I shall record. Facts they are, clothed only in the garb of fiction so far as relates to actual names and situations. There is always something in the language of truth which carries with it its own certificate; and the story itself, which has dwelt, unimparted, on my mind for many and many a year, will, now that I can safely and honestly divulge it, ease my recollection of a load which, from accumulated burthens of my own, I have felt a hundred times a disposition to shake off. But the integrity of even boyish confidence I believe is seldom broken. For my own part, I would not for the wealth of worlds abuse a secret reposed in me in the unsuspecting days of youth, any more than I would the apparently more important communications of matured age. In fact, we might generally risk the latter rather than the former; for it is observable that the secrets confided in middle and advanced age are seldom of a nature which compromise character, or, if imparted, such as would endanger respectability. We grow cautious, if we do not grow wise, as we grow old; though even caution must be considered as one of the humbler attributes of wisdom.

Henry Fortescue was my schoolfellow, and my earliest friend. He protected me from the tyranny of bigger boys because I was weakly, and seemed to love me the better for having protected me. There have been worse causes than this for devotion on the part of a youngster in after-life towards a young man in many respects his superior. He finished his school education many years before myself; but he never forgot his early protégé. We did not, however, meet again until he was in his twenty third year, and he was my senior by about six years. Accidental associations at this time brought us into frequent collision, and adventitious circumstances had rendered us mutually serviceable to each other. The dissimilarity of our ages, particularly felt at the period of life to which I allude, made me regard Henry Fortescue for some time as a superior; and in many respects he was really so. His manners were highly attractive, his person unusually handsome, his education finished, and his birth just above the middle rank of society. With such advantages, it can be no matter of surprise that a lad in all these respects beneath him should be flattered by his notice, and attached by his regard; and, whatever might be his genuine feelings towards me, who had little more than high spirits and good nature to recommend me, his early kindness and subsequent notice bound me to him with a sort of romantic affection, which would have induced me cheerfully to risk my life in his service or defence.

Young persons, at the age I have described myself to be at the period I refer to, are rarely indeed remarkable for examining very minutely into the real characters of their chosen, or rather accidental, associates and friendships. I did not examine at all. I was first attached by kindness, and afterwards somewhat dazzled by the acquire