YE

EARS, years ago, ere yet my dreams Had been of being wise or witty, Ere I had done with writing themes

Or yawned o'er this infernal Chitty,
Years, years ago, while all my joy
Was in my fowling-piece and filly—
In short, while I was yet a boy-
I fell in love with Laura Lilly.

I saw her at the county ball:

There, when the sounds of flute and fiddle. Gave signal sweet, in that old hall,

Of hands across and down the middle, Hers was the subtlest spell by far

Of all that set young hearts romancing; She was our queen, our rose, our star;

And when she danced- O Heaven! her dancing!

Dark was her hair; her hand was white;

Her voice was exquisitely tender;
Her eyes were full of liquid light;
I never saw a waist so slender.

Her every look, her every smile,

Shot right and left a score of arrows: I thought 'twas Venus from her isle,

And wondered where she left her sparrows.

She talked of politics or prayers,

Of Southey's prose or Wordsworth's sonnets, Of daggers or of dancing bears,

Of battles or the last new bonnets.
By candle-light, at twelve o'clock-
To me it mattered not a tittle:

If those bright lips had quoted Locke,
I might have thought they murmured
Little.

Through sunny May, through sultry June, I loved her with a love eternal;

I spoke her praises to the moon,

I wrote them for the Sunday Journal. My mother laughed: I soon found out That ancient ladies have no feeling; My father frowned, but how should gout

See any happiness in kneeling?

She was the daughter of a dean

Rich, fat and rather apoplectic; She had one brother-just thirteenWhose color was extremely hectic ; Her grandmother for many a year Had fed the parish with her bounty; Her second cousin was a peer,

And lord-lieutenant of the county.

But titles, and the three-per-cents,

And mortgages, and great relations, And India bonds, and tithes, and rents,Oh, what are they, to love's sensations? Black eyes, fair forehead, clustering locksSuch wealth, such honors, Cupid chooses; He cares as little for the stocks

As Baron Rothschild for the Muses.

She sketched: the vale, the wood, the beach,

Grew lovelier from her pencil's shading; She botanized: I envied each

Young blossom in her boudoir fading;
She warbled Handel: it was grand;

She made the Catalani jealous ;
She touched the organ: I could stand

For hours and hours to blow the bellows.

PART I.

N the green and flowery banks of the beautiful Lake Tai-hoo, whose surface bears a thousand isles resting like emeralds amid translucent pearl, dwelt Whanki, the mother of Lí. The mother of Lí! Ah happy distinction! Ah envied title! For where, far or near, was the name could rank with Li on the scroll of learning, receiving even in childhood the title of the "Exiled Immortal," from his skill in classic and historical lore? Moreover, he was of a most beautiful countenance, while the antelope that fed among the hills was not more swift of foot. Who like Lí could draw such music from the seven silken strings of the kin? or when with graceful touch his fingers swept the lute, adding thereto the well-skilled melody of his voice, youths and maidens opened their ears to listen, for wonderful was the ravishing harmony.

Yet, although the gods of learning smiled upon this youthful disciple of Confucius, Poverty came also with her iron hand; and, although she could not crush the active mind of Lí, with a strong grip she held him back from testing his skill with the ambitious literati, both old and young, who annually flocked to the capital to present their themes before the examiners. For even in those days, as the present, money was required to

purchase the smiles of these severe judges. They must read with golden spectacles, or woe to the happy youth who, buoyant with hope and empty pockets, comes before them! With what contempt is his essay cast aside, not worth the reading!

Sorely vexed, therefore, was poor Lí-and what wonder?-to know that he might safely cope with any candidate in the "Scientific Halls," yet dare not, for the lack of sycee (silver), enter their gates, lest disgrace might fall upon him. Yet Li was of a merry heart; and, as all the world knows, there is no better panacea for the ills of fortune than the spirit of cheerfulness. Thus, although poverty barred the way to promotion, it could not materially affect his happiness, no more than the passing wind which for a moment ruffled the surface of the lake, yet had no power to move its depths.

Now, it happened that one day, taking his nets, Li went down to the lake, and as he cast them within the waters, not knowing any one was near, he broke forth into a merry song, which sent its glad burden far off to the lips of mocking Echo, like Ariel seeming to "ride on the curled clouds." Now, it also chanced that within a grove of the graceful bamboo which skirted the path down which Lí had passed on his way walked the great mandarin Hok-wan.

"Hi! by the head of Confucius, the fellow sings well!" he exclaimed as the song met his ear (for, as we have said, Lí had a voice of rare melody); and, forthwith issuing from

his concealment, Hok-wan seated himself upon the bank and entered into conversation with the young fisherman.

If the mere melody of the voice had so charmed the mandarin, how much more was he captivated by the wit and learning of the youth who, thus poorly appareled and humbly employed, seemed to share wisdom with the gods! Hok-wan stroked his eyebrows in astonishment, and then, bidding Lí leave his nets, he bore him off as a rare prize to his own house, where he that day feasted a

numerous company.

First conducting Lí to an inner apartment, he presented him with a magnificent rcbe richly embroidered, together with every article necessary to complete the toilet of a person of distinction, and when thus appareled introduced him into the presence of his guests. And truly Lí walked in among them with all the stateliness and hauteur of a man who feels that he is conferring an honor instead of being honored, as no doubt Lí should have considered himself in such an august assemblage of grave mandarins. With what an air he seated himself at the sumptuously loaded table, where, according to Chinese custom of the higher classes, the various dishes of meats, soups, fish, preserves, etc., were all nearly hidden by large bouquets of beautiful flowers and pyramids of green leaves. And now no sooner had Hok-wan delivered with all customary formality the speech of welcome, and drained to the health of his guests the tiny goblet of crystal embossed with gold, than, rising to his feet, and joining his hands before his breast in token of respect to his host, Lí called a servant, and, bidding him take a part from all the good things spread before him, said:

Carry these to the dwelling of Whanki, the mother of Lí. Say to her that as the sands on the lake-shore countless are the blessings of the gods, who have this day smiled upon her son. Bid her eat; for although from hunger he should gnaw his flesh and from thirst drink his blood, yet not one morsel of this banquet shall pass the lips of Lí unless his aged mother be also sustained by the same delicacies."

Át hearing which, all the mandarins, and Hok-wan himself; loudly expressed their admiration. Such is the esteem which the Chinese entertain for filial piety.

This duty discharged, Lí attacked the dainties before him like a hungry soldier, yet seasoning all he said and did with so much wit and humor that the guests laid down their chopsticks and listened with wonder. With the wine, Lí grew still more merry; his wit cut like hailstones wheresoe'er it lighted, and at his jovial songs the grave dignitaries, forgetting their rank (somewhat washed away by copious draughts of sam-shu*), snapped their fingers, wagged their shorn heads, and even, rising from the table, embraced him familiarly. At length, when after an interval of a few hours their hilarity was somewhat abated, during which the guests walked in the beautiful gardens, or, reclining upon luxuriant cushions, regaled themselves with their pipes or in masticating their favorite betel-nut, Lí made bare his bosom before them, and to their astonishment they found it was only a needy scholar whose praises they had been shouting.

A needy scholar! How firmly they clutched their fobs lest a candareen† might * A deleterious liquor distilled from rice. † A Chinese coin.