know my weakness, I'd hang my own brother. I should be very sorry, in course, arterwards ; but he'd swing--as I'm a living sinner, he'd swing,” and Blast, as he stared at St. Giles, gently smacked his lips, and gently rubbed his palms together. “I ask your pardon ; I didn't know what I said. Here's a shilling ; now give me the bridle,” said St. Giles. “I s'pose it's all right,” said Blast, rendering up his charge, and significantly eyeing the coin. “I s'pose it's all right ; but only to think of this world! Only to think that you should give me a shilling for holding a horse! Well, if a man could only know it, wouldn't it break his heart outright to look at the bits o' boys that afore he died, would be put clean over his head ? It's a good shillin', isn't it?" “ To be sure it is ; and an honest one, too,” said St. Giles. “ Glad to hear that : tho' I don't know it will go a penny the further. I wish the colour had been yellow, eh? “I wish so, too, for your sake. Good day,” and St. Giles sought to shake his evil genius off. “I'm in no urry. Time's no good to me: you may have the pick of any of the four-and-twenty hours at your own price," said Blast, following close at his side. “ And so, they've turned you over from St. James's-square to the old money-grubber? Well, he's very rich ; though I don't think the sops in the pan will be as many as you 'd been greased with at his lordship’s. For all that, he's very rich ; and you wouldn't think what a lot of plate ; the old man 's got.” " How do you know that?" asked St. Giles. “I dream'd it only last night. I had a wision, and I thought that the mother of little Jingo 66 Don't talk of it, man- don't talk of it,” exclaimed St. Giles, " I won't hear it.” " I must talk on it,” said Blast, sidling the closer, and striding as St. Giles strode. 61 must talk on it. It comforts me. I dreamed that the poor soul come to me, and told me to follow her, and took me into old Snipeton's cottage there, and showed me the silver tankards, and silver dishes, and even counted up the silver tea-spoons, that there was no end of ; and then, when she 'd put all the plate afore me, she vanished off, and I was left alone with it. In course you know what followed.' "I can guess," groaned St, Giles. How rich I was while I was snoring, last night; and when I a 12 66 Go woke I was as poor as goodness. But somehow, my dream 's fell true-I can't help thinking it-since I've fell in with you." - How so, man? What have I to do with Mr. Snipeton's plate, but to see nobody steals it ?” said St. Giles, firmly. “ To be sure ; and yet when there's so much silver about, and a guinea a week-well, I'll say a pound, then—a pound a week would make a fellow-cretur happy, and silent for life—I said, silent for life" St. Giles suddenly paused, and turned full upon Blast. your ways, man- go your ways. Silent or not silent, you do not frighten me. What I may do for you, I 'll do of my own free will, and with my own money, such as it is. And, after all, I think ’t will serve you better to hold your tongue, than “I wouldn't kill the goose for all the eggs at once,” said Blast, grinning at the figure. St. Giles felt deadly sick. He had thought to brave-defy the ruffian ; but the power of the villai the fate that with a word he could call down upon his victim, unnerved him. St. Giles, with entreating looks, motioned him away ; and Blast leering at him, and then tossing up the shilling with his finger and thumb, passed on, leaving St. Giles at the garden gate, where stood Clarissa, brought there by the earnest entreaties of Crossbone, to view the horse the wondrous steed that was to endow its mistress with new health and beauty. “You may see at a glance, madam, there's Arab blood in the thing ; and yet as gentle as a rabbit. Young man, just put her through her paces. Bless you! she'd trot over eggs, and never crack 'em. A lovely mare !” cried Crossbone, "all her brothers and sisters, I’m assured of it, in the royal stables. "I'm afraid, too beautiful-much too spirited for me, sir," said Clarissa, as St. Giles ambled the creature to and fro. Ere, however, Crossbone could make reply-assuring the lady, as he proposed to do, that she would sit the animal as securely and withal as gracefully as she would sit a throne ---Mr. Snipeton, full of the dust and cobwebs of St. Mary Axe, trotted to the gate. His first feeling was displeasure, when he saw his wife exposed beneath the open sky to the bold looks of any probable passenger ; and then she turned such a kind and cordial face upon him, that for the happy moment, he could have wished all the dwellers of the earth spectators of her beauty, beaming as it did upon her glorified husband. It was plain : love so long dormant, timid within her 66 66 bosom, now flew boldly to her eyes, and curved her lips, with fondest looks and sweetest smiles for her wedded lord. We have before declared that Snipeton had an intimate acquaintance with his own ugliness : unlike so many who carry the disadvantage with them through life, yet are never brought to a personal knowledge of it, Snipeton knew his plainness : it was not in the power of mirrors to surprise and annoy him. And yet, in his old age, he would feel as though his ugliness was, by some magic lessened, nay, refined into comeliness, when his wife smiled upon him. His face, for the time, seemed to wear her light. And thus did this new belief in her affection give the old man a certain faith in his amended plainness; as though beauty beautified what it loved. • There, Mr. Snipeton—there's a treasure. A lovely thing, eh?” cried the triumphant Crossbone. Very handsome, very ; but is she well broken—is she quite safe ? ” said Snipeton, looking tenderly at his wife. “ A baby might rein her. No more tricks than a judge; no more vice than a lady of quality.” · Humph !” said Snipeton, dismounting, and giving his horse to St. Giles. My dear, you will catch cold.": And then the ancient gentleman placed his arm around his wife's waist, and led her from the gate ; Crossbone following, and staring at the endearment with most credulous looks. It was so strange, so odd ; it seemed as if Snipeton had taken a most unwarrantable liberty with the lady of the house. And then the apothecary comforted himself with the belief that Mrs. Snipeton only suffered the tenderness for the sake of appearances : no; it was some satisfaction to know she could not love the man. “ And your new maid is come? She seems simple and honest,” said Snipeton. “Oh yes : a plain, good-tempered soul, that will exactly serve us,” answered Clarissa. Very good—very good.” And Snipeton turned into the house. He had thought again to urge his dislike of Mrs. Wilton ; to suggest her dismissal ; but he would take another opportunityfor go she should : he was determined, but would await his time. As these thoughts busied him, Mrs. Wilton entered the room, followed by Crossbone. Somewhat sullenly, Snipeton gazed at the house-keeper: and then his eyes became fiery, and pointing to the riband that Clarissa had hung about her mother's neckthe riband bearing the miniature, yet unseen by the wearer, he passionately asked—“ Where got you that ? Woman ! Thief! Where stole you that?" “ Stole !” exclaimed Mrs. Wilton, and she turned deathly pale; and on the instant tore the riband from her neck; and then, for the first time, saw the miniature. For a moment, her face was lurid with agony, that seemed to tongue-tie her, and then she shrieked-“Oh God! and is it he? • Detected ! detected ! cried Snipeton—"a detected thief.' “ No, sir ; no,” exclaimed Clarissa, embracing her parent. 6. You shall now know all. She is Clarissa was about to acknowledge her mother, when the wretched woman clasped her daughter's head to her bosom, stifling the words. “No thief, sir,” she said, “but no longer your house-keeper.” And then, kissing Clarissa, and murmuring “ not a word—not one word ” she hurried from the room. 66 THE POET'S FLOWER-GATHERING. "From the Pleasance, Poet mine, Fetch me flowers !” the Lady said- And the night's first dews are shed.” way, Murmuring low some sylvan lay), With their blended odours rare, On the calm night air. For a virgin flower more fair,- Into dying there." ' Poet, spare, oh spare ! And a star doth love me ; a Lift thy gaze from earth to sky- It doth smile above me. Would have 'scaped from out me ; – Drops her folds about me: Sink to sleep around me; Yon sweet light hath found me, And the winds together, Waft it up the ether, Look into this heart of mine; There the star-rays strike and shine ; Poet, they came down, came down, Love-sent, from their native heaven- And for fragrance given ; Poet, of thine own heart's pleasure, Blessings with it beyond measure : And the Poet With raised brow—the lips below it, Not one rose for thee!” Then smiling, Saith he, with soft voice beguiling, “Lily, lily, thou must bend thee From thy stately height |