upon the order of your going, but go at once, and appetite go with you."

While seated at dinner a mounted messenger arrived from Aspen Hall, with news of Gordon's whereabouts, which surprised them not a little, especially as no particulars were given by the messenger, who had merely given Sir George's compliments, and said that Dr. Graham was at the Hall, and would not probably be home that night.

This gave a new turn to the conversation. Whyte asked

"Are there any young ladies at Aspen Hall? for if so our vagrant may be stalking dears after all."

"If there are," said Blake, "Graham has got a good handicap."

"Yes," broke in Miss Morton, "he is a fine fellow, both in heart and appearance. Sir George is a widower, with an only daughter and a widowed sister staying with him. Miss Colestone is very pretty, fair hair in great abundance, and——”

"Now, Mr. Welsh, that is too bad," interrupted Bessie Graham. "She has a glorious wealth of fair hair of her own, that, with her light-blue eyes, classical features, high spirit, splendid voice, and long descent, must surely be the qualities you have been looking for so long in your beau ideal of a woman.'

"Then our neophyte is in luck, if the Aspen Hall acres are unencumbered," said Whyte.

"Well, the estate is rather strangely tied up," explained Dr. Morton. "Sir George Colestone, then plain lieutenant, went out to India along with a cousin; they had been staying with Sir Henry Colestone, the elder brother of their father, who was now well up in years and childless, except for one of those children of fancy, a hobby, which was to keep Aspen Hall as a free and unencumbered appanage of the family name. With a view to this he drew up a will, and on the departure of his nephews he took them into the library and read over its contents. By it he left the property to George, with reversion; failing heirs male of his body, to Frank, the other nephew, and his heirs male; if neither should have sons living at their death, the daughters of George and their heirs were to inherit, the husbands and children taking the name of Colestone along with the inheritance; and failing them the estate passed to the female descendants of Frank. The young men landed in India, where both gained rank and fame, and married; Frank had one son, George was only blessed with a daughter. Brigadier-General Colestone, that is Frank, is dead, so his son is heir presumptive to Aspen Hall. He is living at present in London, in a style, if reports are to be believed, not of the strictest propriety."

Very clearly set out, Morton," said Welsh.

"As there is only one ditch to cross, Miss Graham, before Miss Colestone heirs Aspen Hall, I think I shall give Sir George a look up to-morrow, and see this non pareille. I knew George Colestone well before he went out."

Now that all anxiety on Gordon's account was set at rest, his aunt and sister seemed much relieved, and the evening went merrily past, enlivened by music, cheery conversation, and witty anecdotes; a dance was attempted, but here the paucity of ladies was very much felt, especially by Mr. Welsh, with whom Miss Graham refused to dance, as a punishment for his behaviour; so he was fain to content himself with a pas seul, or a choice between the tongs and a chair, as partners in the trois temps. And about midnight the ladies retired, while the lords of creation remained below a little longer, " to fit on their night-caps," as they phrased it.

"DEATH GIVES SLEEP: HEAVEN GIVES

DREAMS."

WHEREFORE Weeps Death as he stands by the dark and silent river?

Drooping his wings, and loose the arrows lie in the quiver.

Sorely he weeps for man, to his power delivered for ever, Dreading the cruel stroke that relentless earth's ties must

sever.

Then spake an Angel of Light, "Midst thorns still blossoms the roses,

So when night o'er the earth like a dreary graveyard closes,

And like corpse-lights the stars stand in their places in Heaven,

Then shall a soothing charm to thy terrible power be given.

Night after night be rehearsed death's miracle with thanksgiving,

Death shall thus journey through life, side by side with the living

Guiding men's thoughts to that sleep which knows no earthly awaking,

Over which angels smile, and mortals weep to heart-breaking.

Sweet shall the type be to man, rest from his care and sorrow, Balsam that heals the wound, though it may open to-morrow.

Peace-woven veil of bliss over the wayworn descending, Death and life in the mortal frame in the hush of midnight blending."

Death's bitter tears still flowed, and his voice grew harsher and deeper,

Sleep, foretaste of the curse, the shadow far off of the reaper.'

Then spake the Angel, in tones like harp by the wind put in motion,

Spake he in cadence soft as the heave of the summer ocean.

"Yet will we help thee in heaven, and send to man's slumber sweet dreaming,

Making him live and move in a world of golden seeming.

Nothing too vast for his tranced powers, even miracles paling,
In the dream-given strength of energy god-like, unfailing.
Soul o'er the mortal flesh a glorious mastery attaining,
Soul to the borders of spirit-land a mystic entrance gaining.
Casting the weakness of earth away, higher and higher soar-
ing.

Waif on the tide of mortal life 'scaped awhile from its mooring.

Wafted to untried worlds, upborne on angelic pinions,

Panting like some caged bird to gain fresher and freer dominions.

Thus in thy arms shall he learn each night of his nature immortal,

Learn of life that cannot be his until thou hast opened the portal.

Till thy cold hand hath closed his eyelids on earth for ever, Till thou hast kissed his lips on the earthward side of the river.

So shall he bless thee for sleep, and for the token thus given, That Death, whom he shrinks from in dread, dwells close by the portals of Heaven."

Death softly smiled through his tears, in the glory around him streaming,

And thenceforth to man from Death came sleep, and from the

angels dreaming.

JULIA GODDARD.

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

EAST INDIAN LIFE.

BY LIEUTENANT-COLONEL COPINGER.

THE hospitality shown in India is so general that a stranger even might have come into Mr. Mainwaring's house in the same way as the young men did, as related in our last Number, and it would not have been thought an intrusion. George Byam told him that they had only arrived from Calcutta in the steam flat which reached Dinapoor the day before.

66

Mr. Mainwaring said "that he heard from his father some time ago," and requested them to excuse him for a moment, that he might go and let Mrs. Mainwaring know. So he went into her room and said, My dear, one of the officers whose father wrote me a letter of introduction is here, and his friend is with him. Before I propose to them to stay, of course I should like to tell you, and ask your approval."

“Oh, do ask them!" she said; "of course I shall be with you all, presently."

So he returned to them and said, "I propose to you, to let your conveyance return to your inn, and to tell your servants to come here with your clothes; and you had much better take up your quarters here until you have seen the cartonments, and leave your heavy baggage in the inn in the meantime. It would not be pleasant for you as a residence." To this they assented, and shortly after this Mrs. Mainwaring came in, and they were introduced to her; and in a few minutes the tiffin was announced, that important meal in India, which most sensible people make their dinner. The conversation turned upon friends at home, upon the country, and upon Indian habits; and one comfort was, that the sable domestics who were behind their chairs could not understand any part of their conversation. Shortly after it was over Mrs. Mainwaring retired, and Mr. Mainwaring heard all that the two April.—VOL. IX., NO. LII.

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