"Yes dear, and I've a wreath for my head, which corresponds exactly. Ma' says it becomes me, and Ensign Miss Emeline stopped short. Annie looked enquiringly, and smiled. Miss Emeline Boadicea would have blushed-if she could; as it was, she arranged, disarranged, and rearranged several pensées of pink gauze ribbon, which ornamented the lace berthe before-mentioned.

"What will your dress be, dear?"

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Plain book-muslin," replied Annie Brown, blushing. She would have liked such a satin dress as that of her friend, for she had all a child's love-or rather, we should say, a girl's love of dress, but her father, partly from principle, and partly from having anything but a long purse, forbad it kindly, though positively.

Miss Emeline Boadicea deigned no reply, and after the peculiar merits of her robe had been gone through again and again, to the infinite satisfaction of the show-lady, the friends separated, with a mutual understanding that Annie Browne was to make her appearance in Bedford Square at half-past seven precisely, on the evening of the morrow.

From this detailed conversation, the characters of the two ladies may in some little degree be gathered; but as a legitimate mode of proceeding is to give some positive description, we do not purpose to digress.

Miss Emeline Boadicea Percy was a young lady of "uncertain" years, but if we might be allowed to tell a lady's age, it would resolve itself into a certainty of eight-and-twenty. She was what fashion calls a fine young woman, tall, fresh-coloured-her features, neither fine nor pretty, were, like her figure, commanding when in company or engaged in anything where she would be likely to attract the attention of admirers. When we say commanding we would not have you, kind reader, suppose them haughty and unbending, for none were more able to fawn and flatter (a quality without reserve attached to men, by the softer sex, with how much truth we do not here intend to argue, though we think somewhat unjustly)-we say none knew better how to flatter than the daughter of Adolphus Percy, Esq. She had been brought up in every indulgence by a mother, at once short-sighted and ignorant, till she became, as it were, her shadow, possessing the same foibles, were they in her dealings with those around her, or in the whims of dress, or the display of a station which they themselves were not quite certain they possessed, or had a right to assume, in the eyes of the world. Perhaps Mr. Adolphus Percy's books might have shown; but they were at the counting-house, and on the point as to where the counting-house was Mrs. Percy was not very clear.

Ambition was the true incentive of Mrs. Percy marrying her present husband, and this ambition she had unceasingly laboured to instil

into the mind of her only child; and not even when it became a constitutional and glaring evil, did she endeavour to check it. Wretches infected with pestilence cling more closely to one-another, as if hugging the disease that robs them of all bodily strength; and so Mrs. Percy and her daughter together nursed their darling sin, till alike they became tainted by its pestiferous breath, and the healthy tone of their minds withered, rooted up and "scattered to the winds." Emeline Boadicea was to marry a rich husband-it was her mother's cherished hope to see her daughter, some day, the wife of at least a baronet, perhaps an earl. It was reported that Mr. Percy had large property, being extensively engaged in foreign trade; and wealth carrying with it-as it too often does in England-a greater degree of importance than talent, warranted their admission into circles that, were it not for that wealth, would have derided and spurned them.

By degrees, all hopes of an alliance in an earl's family faded away-that star had set. The next in magnitude was resorted to; but a baronet could not be found to take the merchant's daughter; unfortunately that class is as naturally ambitious as were the manoeuvring mother and daughter--that star had set. Emeline Boadicea was eight-and-twenty, unmarried, and, what was more painful to her mothernot likely to be! Unfortunately, her education had been superficial in the extremest degree: showy accomplishments took the place of a good solid foundation, and the trash of a circulating library filled her mind, almost before she could read with a view of understanding or sifting the right and wrong of the matter it contained. Thus she became what is laughingly by the world called "romantic;" she saw nothing but a spirit of chivalry pervading everything; all was tinted with the false colour of an age which, were its true nature translated, would be found to be an age of mere brutal, physical strength, and whose so envied, so admired existence was as often the cloak for disgraceful and shameless immorality, as for deeds of real worth and the upholding of honesty and virtue. But, as everything lacking a solid basis has, in the course of time, or quickly or slowly crumbled and fallen away, so has chivalry died, leaving only a fag-end, which we shall presently describe. Nothing has tended more to the destruction of this feeling of chivalry than the progress of the polite arts; they have risen as a new sun over the benighted heads of a misdirected world, and have at length shown that that which was the glory of seven centuries ago was at best darkness. Talent-mind has proved itself true chivalry, where, by the force of intellect, virtue and justice are defended, in lieu of the at best precarious result of physical, animal force. The spirit is the ruling power, the chivalry of heaven! Mind-talent is the true chivalry of earth!

As for "the fair" and gentle this breakneck, brutal glory was established-as it was by them mysteriously (to us) encouraged-so

has its last remnant the fag-end been, nay, is by | them upheld and cherished. So this once fashionable and gorgeous article hangs on hand, cannot be disposed of; nor brings it profit to the possessors, because it is the lingering love of a false, unprincipled, useless, mind-degrading error. Let us be just, and, with our censure, say there have been, though few, some redeeming exceptions.

The Ensign (left unchristened by Miss Emeline Boadicea, in the conversation related between her and Annie) was one of the by-nomeans rare examples we find, where mind and talent are wanting, and their place supplied by a dashing exterior, a boasting tongue, and a reckless disposition.

We had almost forgotten the gentle Annie Brown; but during the few minutes she is placing the single white rose in her luxuriant and golden hair, and while Miss Percy admires herself in a splendid cheval-glass, we will give a short history of her life; and, having taken a glance at her personal appearance, hand them both down to the ball-room.

Annie Brown was the only daughter of the rector of the little village of G-, situate in Devonshire. His income was very small, and not till late in life had he married. When the little Annie had reached her ninth year, she lost her kind and amiable mother, who died of consumption; but not till she had sown the seeds of virtue and a sound moral education, which was followed up by her ever watchful father, and from the rich mind of the child produced a harvest that fulfilled his utmost hopes. At the time we write she had attained her twentieth year, when the kind invitation of an old maiden-aunt was acceded to by her father, who, to her, was always kind and indulgent to the fullest extent of his means, and she left her native village for a while to be

— a denizen of town, Whose murky air hangs like an evil deed Over a gay, glad spirit."

An acquaintance existing between her aunt and Mrs. Percy was the means for Annie's introduction to Emeline Boadicea, to whom she had become, in some degree, attached; by no means a singular thing, as it seems almost a design in nature that the extremes of character should find between them a link so firm as to bind together feelings and their possessors, who, were they asked in what manner, could not themselves tell, or account in any way for the apparently magic influence to which they are subjected. We have said the hue of Annie's hair was golden, while that of her friend was dark; her eyes were, as one of the "Mrs. Gamps" of her village would call them, "evvenly blue;" her nose was decided in form, though small; and her mouth-with a half pouting, half smiling expression-hid a pearly set of teeth. She was delicate and slight in figure, yet bearing so forcibly the stamp of intellect, that one would adore rather than love her; she seemed a being worthy of a holier, nobler affection, than is to be found in the time-serving ad

ulation of ordinary life. She was herself one who appeared capable of appreciating talent, one who could value in others the gift of the rich intellect it was her proud satisfaction to enjoy. For his talents she had first admired, and at length loved Charles Brookes; but the rose is arranged, Miss Emeline satisfied with her appearanceand she certainly looked splendid-so, obedient to their wish, we will hand them to the ball

room.

The ladies had retired to supper, one or two only of the gentlemen remaining: one of these

was seated at a table; he seemed vexed, for he turned the leaves of his favourite author with unwonted rapidity, at times absorbed in a passage that met his eye. It was Charles Brookes. Annie Brown had, to his great chagrin, been handed down by a fierce-looking, moustached foreigner; and when, disconcerted, he endeavoured to reach her side, he found the supperroom so crowded he could not even get within the door, so returned to the deserted ball-room.

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All were once more assembled, the merry music and the dance as merry as may be. Mr. Percy was deep in the corn-law question with an aged M.P.; Mrs. Percy and Mrs. Pauline Plantagenet, together, were flirting with a decayed baronet; and simpering young ladies, raw from school, huddled together in one corner, nudging one another's elbows, whispering and tittering; other young ladies, of all ages, all heights, complexions, and characters, scattered about the rooms-a few intelligent, a great many dolls; young gentlemen endeavouring to be interesting and conspicuous at the same moment; one breaking a fan, from ignorance of its mechanism; another talking nonsense; a third prattling some newspaper critique on the opera. Middle-aged men apparently drowsy, or in a mysterious state from wine; old men, under the mighty influence of champagne, confounding the "Oregon question" and the potato disease;" old maids and married ladies chattering household affairs, and spreading scandal. But stay, who were those comfortable looking bodies, supporting either side of the fire-place in the little back room, occasionally looking towards a quadrille, in which Charles Brookes and Annie were vis-à-vis to Miss Emeline Boadicea Percy and Ensign Theophilus Fitzallen; the first couple quietly engaged discussing the merits of Mrs. Hemans' writings; the latter languishingly lisping love and the language of flowers. But who are they watching them so intently? Gentle reader, they are two old maids, who having "had their day," are anything but soured by society, and the decay of pleasures and customs in which they once delighted: one was no other than Miss Brown, aunt to our gentle Annie, who dropped the Miss, assuming Mrs. instead: the other-we did our best at inquiring-we were unable to discover her title, being informed by

M

"Why?" innocently demanded Aunt Brown, who had a wrinkle" that it was more than possible that such might be the case.

"Because they are both intelligent, and have expressed to me a similarity of sentiments during this evening, not to mention Mr. Brookes pays her many little attentions. Mark my word, they're made for a couple."

Aunt Brown smiled. The maiden lady 'looked philosophy,' and asked,

"Do you know in what way Mr. Brookes has employed his talents, for I am sure they are great?"

"He is an author," replied Miss Brown, "and has endeavoured, in his compositions, to aid the cause of the people in the advancement of their education and their standing in society, so as to make quality of mind the first and most requisite desideratum in the lower classes of society; an object I think worthy of him as a Christian and a man of energetic talent; an object that must soon be felt, by those for whom it is exercised as beneficial in the results of its but lately-though as it must soon be-strenuously supported practice!"

Aunt Brown's cheek had flushed with the excitement of so profound a speech, and her friend bowed acquiescence.

"And the couple opposite them?" inquiringly demanded Aunt Brown.

The maiden lady shook her head! "Indeed!" ejaculated Aunt Brown. A more significant shake of the head! "Ah! murmured Aunt Brown. "Perhaps," at length commenced the maiden lady, "perhaps it is not right to express one's opinion of Miss Percy, but-"

"Ah?" chimed in Aunt Brown.

"I'm afraid she has very romantic ideas sees everything in a romantic light-in short, that she is troubled-"

"Not with hydrophobia?" innocently demanded a wicked young lady, who, if she could, always spoiled the maiden lady's best speeches. It was not, however, noticed.

"I was about to say that I thought Miss Percy troubled with what I call the fag-end of chivalry."

"Pray explain yourself," said Aunt Brown; who looked mystery.'

"There seems to me," began the maiden lady, leaning towards Miss Brown-" there seems to me, that even now, there is a lingering shadow of ancient chivalry influencing society, and that of young and unmarried ladies more especially, for which I can find no other name than the FAG-END. It is the feeling so prevalent with girls and women alike; that of ad

miring a man of a reckless and heedless disposition, with the idea so seldom made real and enduring, that of reforming them from dissipation. But in naming the fag-end of chivalry I mean, rather, those who give their affections by preference to a wild, daring, break-neck gentleman, to one who knows more of five-bar gates than of the classics, literature, or science; in short, one who possesses what they possessed in the days of our first Richard-only physical energy, without the energy of the mind, used towards an improvement of the intellect God has endowed us with, deceiving themselves with the idea that they are what men should be, and for whom men eminent for talent are, as it were, put aside. In the days of our first Richard men were loved for their skill and feats of daring in chivalry; but times are changed; the mind is now felt to be superior to bodily strength; energy of intellect surpasses now the energy of the frame; the powers of the soul are appreciated beyond the physical; MIND is now a stronger word than MIGHT. It is strange, however, that the beautiful and gentle beings who surround us daily are the encouragers of this degraded feeling, the supporters of this fag-end of chivalry!"

the

Aunt Brown nodded. The quadrille was finished. The party dispersed.

Annie Brown and Charles Brookes were married in the spring, as was also Miss Emeline Boadicea Percy to Ensign Theophilus Fitz Allen, Mr. Percy unfortunately proved bankrupt, and much to the chagrin of his purse and place-loving wife, they retired to humble lodg ings, which having reached the Ensign's ears, he decamped from his wife, who returned to her unfortunate parents.

Miss Brown resided many years with her niece, who lived happily with her husband in the mutual enjoyment and cultivation of the talents they were endowed with; and though fortune smiled but little at first, his talent was at length appreciated, and with the advice of their maiden friend they teach their children to appreciate the force of MIND in preference to physical strengthor the FAG-END OF CHIVALRY!

SONNET.

No part of this fair earth is wild, no lot;
The very dust beneath us is not free;
Nor can our footsteps trace the smallest spot
Unportioned out in strict propriety,
Divided, subdivided, 'mongst mankind;
Yea, they would chain the ocean and the wind,
Had they the power; nor even the stars would shine,
Nor sun, nor moon, on this wide universe

Alike to all; but that by law divine

Tis well that some things cannot be controlled,
They hold above their unapproachable course.

Else would all nature sink in our esteem
To individual property, a hold

Of servitude and avarice supreme.

W. C.

The clock was striking eight as Frau Margaret opened the door of the little room in which her husband worked, but paused in astonishment on not seeing the usually busy and industrious man at his desk; the unsnuffed candle shed a melancholy twilight around, and the moonlight strove in rivalry with it, and checkered the floor with its silvery beams. At first she could not see her husband at all; and when she did discover him, for a few moments she ventured not to disturb his reverie. He sat on a rushchair close by the window, his folded hands resting upon the window-ledge, and his chin upon them, his face upturned towards heaven, and ghastly in the pale light, and his lips moving as though he held silent converse with the angels above. After gazing at him for a few minutes his wife stepped lightly to his side, and laid her hand upon his shoulder: he started, turned quickly, and as his eyes fell on her, a smile chased the first expression of doubt and fear from his face, and he said, "Oh! it is only thee, Margaret. I am coming. Where is Elizabeth?" "Getting the supper ready."

"And the lieutenant-is he there?" “No,” replied the wife, tartly; and I hope he won't come to day."

"Good! then let us go eat what God has given us." He arose, and moved towards his wife; and in that tall, stiff, angular form, and the wooden leg which stumped beside its fleshy, or rather bony fellow, it was easy to detect the old soldier." Well, old woman," he said, putting one arm round his wife, "why dost look so cross at me? I have done my daily task, and my poor fingers may rest until to-morrow morning. Oh that writing! it is far more laborious than ever my military duties were."

"What a pity 'tis thou can'st not forget thou wert ever a soldier."

"Can the rider forget his steed-the maiden her lover-the musician his notes ?"

"But you should learn to forget. When first I knew thee thou wert a sergeant." "Until the battle of Freiberg, throughout the whole war I fought like a brave soldier of our great monarch; but in that confounded battle, as the devil would have it, I lost my leg. 'Tis that has crippled both body and spirit."

"Well, but they made thee clerk to the waroffice, with a very comfortable salary, and all was well until that lieutenant came, who is, I believe, the evil one himself."

"Hush!" whispered her husband, in startled tones. "If he should hear thee!"

"Let him hear, I care not; what I say is the

truth, and nothing else. Before he came thou wert industrious, cheerful, and contented; now, since he comes eating up our victuals, drinking our beer, and smoking your tobacco until one cannot see across the room, and boasting of his bravery, and raking up old tales, and shouting loud enough to alarm the neighbourhood-now thou sittest cogitating over the Lord knows what, or goest wandering about as if thou hadst an evil conscience."

"What!" cried her husband, grasping her arm. "What knowest thou of my conscience?" But in a moment the excitement had passed away, and the flush faded from his haggard countenance, and left it paler than ever; and he added mildly, "Talk not such nonsense, Margaret, but let me enjoy myself my way. The lieutenant and I were fellow-soldiers; what is more natural than that we should like to be together? we were young, and now are old; what more natural than that we should like to recall to mind what we once were, and fight our battles, and live our youthful days over again?"

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Aye! aye! Joseph, that's all very well; but I know thou likest the lieutenant not one bit better than I do. I saw thee, the first day he made his appearance, turn as white as a sheet. Besides, 'tis not possible that thou, who art so good and so gentle, can like such a rough, blustering, swearing wretch as he is. Thou art afraid of him!"

At this moment a loud voice was heard exclaiming, "Sergeant! Sergeant! In the devil's name where are you? Potz tansend! don't keep me waiting!"

"There he is," said the old man, with trembling lips.

"What then? Take heart, and bid him go about his business; or let me-I'll settle him!" "For Heaven's sake, Margaret, do not offend him! Thou know'st not all."

I verily believe thou art bewitched, Joseph, and that that is the evil one himself howling out there!" said the astonished woman, gazing at her husband with wonder and anxiety.

The door was pushed open, a head looked in, and a body followed it; and certainly the strange appearance of the owner of this head and body went far to justify Frau Margaret's words. Ă little three-cornered hat, looped with tarnished silver cord, was set upon a full-bottomed, amply powdered peruke, from beneath which looked forth a face that might easily have passed for a grotesque mask: the nose was gigantic in its proportions, of a purplish hue, and tipped with crimson; the cheek-bones high, the eyes small