"Surely you were not so silly as to undeceive them," chimed in the matronly lady; who, besides being ill-tempered, was one of those weak and narrow-minded mothers, whose children, if they have good qualities, possess them in spite of evil culture; "we should have had quite as fine a show," she continued, "if that stupid Ellis had not let out the fires on Christmas-eve; and there is no use in proclaiming one's mortifications."

"I think the greatest piece of luck was getting back your sovereign with the flowers!" exclaimed Hannah, in a tone which proclaimed her to be a great deal more "her mother's daughter" than Matilda. "I am sure I never expected you would see it again. And the white and silver purse in which it was returned, is a love of a thing, just fit for a card purse." (Miss Lawford was eight-and-twenty, and had lately grown a desperate whist player.) "I don't think you ever use it, do you, Mary?"

This was not the first "gentle hint" her cousin Hannah had given with reference to the white and silver purse; but Mary, usually as quick at understanding as ready to yield, seemed unaccountably dull or uncomplying whenever this subject was named. But the arrival of the postman changed the conversation; and among the letters was one for Mary, which being rather an unusual occurrence, excited a proportionate degree of interest.

The contents were scanned in a few moments; but short as they were, they alternately blanched and flushed the cheek of Mary Marston. Then, bursting into tears, she dropped the letter, exclaiming"It is a hoax-a cruel hoax; it cannot be real!”

But that official letter was no hoax. Indeed, the steady, oldestablished firm who signed themselves "her most obedient servants," would have shuddered at the perpetration of anything so outrageous. No, no; the fact was too well authenticated for doubt or hesitation on the subject; Mary was no longer poor and dependent-old Sir Digby Randle, known throughout the county as a most eccentric character, and whose death had been chronicled three days before in the Herald, had bequeathed Mary, by a codicil to his will, the sum of ten thousand pounds, in trust for her sole use till she should become of age, when it would pass into her own hands! The strange part of the story was, that not to her knowledge had Mary Marston ever seen, or been seen by her kind benefactor!

III.

The icicles had departed, and the frost-bound streams were again ebbing gently along as they sparkled in the sunshine; the birds were trilling merrily, and the trees were unfurling their pale green leaveshoar winter had departed, and the spirit of youth was again abroad in the world. On a morning in early May, Mary Marston commenced her journey, by railway, to the metropolis. But though a few months older than when we introduced her to the reader-though her worldly knowledge was somewhat increased, and her purse extremely well lined-it was not considered proper, expedient, or safe, for her to travel, as she had done before, unprotected. Accordingly, an old dependent of the family, whose office was something between nurse and housekeeper, was deputed as her attendant to London, where she had other near relatives to receive her. We do not attempt to account for this different arrangement, we but state the fact, and shall only observe that on this occasion she wore a remarkably pretty bonnet, one indeed

which was quite the chef d'œuvre of a country milliner. A strange coincidence, however, occurred, for she was handed into the carriage by the very same gentleman to whom she had lent the sovereign on the former occasion, and who it appeared was returning to town by the very same train as herself. Indeed he took his seat as before, exactly opposite to her; but after a smile of recognition had passed between them, Mary observed an expression half-mirthful, half-scornful, pass over his face, as old Nurse entered the carriage; but it was evidently not occasioned by patrician distaste at the prospect of a plebeian fellowtraveller, for he paid the respect due to age, and assisted her in with care and attention. It was somewhat remarkable that no attempt was made to admit any other passengers into the vacant seats of the carriage our travellers occupied. What passed on the journey has therefore never been clearly ascertained, for old Nurse pleads guilty to having fallen asleep, and the other parties, to this day, refuse to give any account of their conversation.

About a month after this event, Matilda Lawford received a long letter from her cousin Mary. It treated of divers matters; and towards the end, just on a corner of the paper, communicated the fact that she, the writer, was engaged to be married, of course to the handsomest, cleverest, and most delightful person in Europe. She added, however, that he was not rich, being yet "struggling upwards at the bar," and expressed in touching language her own thankfulness to Providence, for that fortune which would always relieve them from the pressure of poverty. The postscript, however, contained the pith of the letter. It ran thus:-"I may as well tell you at once, what you must know sooner or later-don't quiz me!-but Mr. Raymond is the stranger who sent me the beautiful bouquet, and the white and silver purse. He managed to procure an introduction to uncle William, who knew him very well by report, and has visited here constantly since I came to London!"

One surprise, however, was to mount on another; for the next morning's post brought a short and almost incoherent letter from Mary. From it enough was gathered to contradict some of the assertions contained in the former epistle, for it stated that though Mr. Raymond had been for some years "struggling at the bar," he was no longer a poor man, but sole heir-after the payment of a few eccentric legacies -to the immense wealth of Sir Digby Randle, who it appeared was his mother's elder and half-brother. "Slanderous tongues had poisoned truth," and they had been for years separated; but on a sick bed the heart of the kind old man yearned for his only relative, and when they met, and the past was explained, the pent-up feelings of Sir Digby gushed forth, and he seemed anxious only to live long enough to make amends for past neglect by granting, almost forestalling, every wish of his nephew. What induced him to leave Mary Marston a legacy, or how Digby Raymond discovered the precise hour of her return to London, and how he contrived that the remaining seats in the carriage should be unoccupied, we pretend not to determine; but we know "love or money" can perform wonders. Why he passed himself off as still "a struggling barrister," is another affair; but it was just the conduct that might have been expected from a man who, having found a heart which poverty had failed to render suspicious and selfish, and knowing its priceless value, was inclined once more to test it; but-by the opposite ordeal.

THE FIRST WORD IN THE MORNING AND THE LAST AT NIGHT.

BY NIMROD.

Ir has occasionally happened to me to sit down to my desk, take a pen in my hand, and then ask myself, "What am I going to write?" Such was the case about twelve months back, when one word in the said question at once decided the point. "I will write an article on the little verb to go," said I to myself, "and send it to Fraser's Magazine." I wrote it, and sent it; but, surely, methought it would not take. It, however, did take, and the editor of another monthly periodical soon afterwards made the following request to me by letter:-" When you have another little racy article, like the one entitled " Go-goinggone," in Fraser's Magazine of last month, I wish you would send it to me." Whether the one I am now about to indite is worthy an editor's notice is not for me to determine; but, such as it is, I give you the preference of either accepting or refusing it. It may, at all events, act as a foil to set off the lustre of the more precious gems with which your pages are adorned by the hands of superior artists to myself. I often think of a remark made by Johnson-namely, that things which are obvious are commonly either unthought of or unknown. The object of the above-named paper in Fraser, then, was to shew the almost incredible-certainly unthought of-frequency of occurrence of the little verb "to go," in its various moods and tenses, in the ordinary conversation between man and man. Articles, prepositions, conjunctions, and the adverbs yes and no excepted, no other word is, in my opinion, so often on the tongue unless it be the pronoun "what."

I will then see what I can make of this useful little indefinite, either to amuse or instruct.

As if by prescriptive right, I commence with the Sportsman on a hunting morning.

"What's o'clock?" to his valet, who awakens him; " and what sort of a morning is it?" (Here is the "first word.")

"It is fine at present, sir; but I should not wonder but what it will rain before night. What clothes will you wear to-day? and what horse is the groom to send to cover? The cook also wishes to know what you would like to have for your breakfast, and at what hour you will dine." "What has she got in the larder?" is the next question of the master, who, when he arrives at the cover side, thus accosts a sporting farmer, whom he observes mounted on a promising young horse"What have you got here?-what is his age?-next, what is his breed?-fourthly, what is his height?-and, lastly, what is his price?" "What a glorious morning for hunting!" observes one sportsman to another," and what fine lying for a fox!"

"Yes," replies the latter," and what a fine pack of hounds!” They find." Ye gods, what a crash!" exclaims one; "what a scent in cover!" cries another; "what a fine country before us!" observes a third; "what a splitter we shall have!" says a fourth.

They proceed. "What a head they carry!" exclaims Jones; "what a pace!" cries Smith; "what a purl (a fall) Robins has had!" shouts Baker; "what a rasper is before us!" says Martin; "what a funk you are in!" observes Williams.

VOL. III.

THE NEWSMONGER.- "What's the news to-day?" asks the newsmonger of his friend.

"What!" answers his friend, "have you not heard of what has taken place in Syria? Commodore Napier-'the man what can and will do it,' as the sailors say of him-has let them know what is what." "And what has he done?"

"What! why he has done in half-an-hour what Napoleon could not do at all!"

"What a trump he must be!"

"Yes; and what a country is England!"

A SCENE IN THE COUNTRY.-"What is to be done to-day!" says one idle fellow to another idle fellow, who is on a visit to him in the

Nothing but what is to be seen in most other country towns."

A DINNER SCENE.-" Dine with me to-day," says Sir John to his friend.

"At what hour?"

"What think you of six?"

DURING DINNER." What will you eat? what wine will

and what do you think of that champagne?"

THE HOST TO His Servant." What is coming?"
"Venison, sir."
"What part?"

A TEA PARTY AND ITS HELPMATE, SCANDAL.- "Well, Mrs. Randles, what do you now think of Mrs. Moody? Are you not convinced that what I told you is true?"

Why, ma'am, as Dr. Johnson observed on a similar occasion, I don't believe all what I hear."

"Perhaps not; but if you believe one half of what I have told you of Mrs. Moody and Captain Flash, she must be-I know what. What a wicked woman! and what will the world say of her?"

"Why, what it always says when a fine young woman is made to marry an old man for his money-Poor thing, wHAT a sacrifice she made! What prospect of happiness could she have? Then what a

nice man the captain is, and what a poor wretch is Mr. Moody!" "What excuse is that? What will Mrs. Grundy say?"

"I care not what Mrs. Grundy will say; but I remember what our Saviour said about casting the first stone. It shall not be flung by me." SHOPPING." What do you please to want, ma'am?" says the smartly-tricked young man behind the counter. "What's the price of your cambric?"

"Of what quality do you wish it?" "What do you recommend?"

"This is what we are selling most of.

you off, and to what place am I to send it?"

What quantity shall I cut

THE RACING MAN.-"What's to win the Derby? What's the betting at Tattersall's? What say the prophets Judex in the Post, Vates in the Era, and Pegasus in Bell's Life, all capital judges?"

"What are the odds against Brutus for the Great Yorkshire Handicap?"

"What is Brutus? (i.e., how is he bred?)-what has he done?— what weight have the handicappers put upon him?-what stable is he in, and what jockey will ride him?"

THE MONEY LENDER'S OFFICE." What sum do you want, and for what time? What security can you offer, and what barley-sugar*

will you stand?"

Bow STREET, (before the presiding magistrate.)" What have you to say for yourself, prisoner? Be cautious, for what you say will be taken down as evidence against you."

CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.-" Prisoner at the bar, what have you to say why sentence of death shall not be recorded against you?" Prisoner answers from Shakspeare

"What is my offence?

Where is the evidence that doth accuse me?

What lawful quest have given their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge?"

The late Mr. Cobbett was wont to say, an Englishman might travel through France, knowing only one word of the French language— namely, "Combien," which, being interpreted, means, "What's to pay?"

THE SAVAGE STEPMOTHER. (Injusta noverca.)-"What's the matter here? What's all this noise? What are you children about? What a dust you have kicked up! I tell you what, if I hear any more noise, I will give you what shall make you remember what day of the month it is."

THE FARMER AND HIS LABOURER.-Labourer. "What be I to do to day?"

Farmer. "What did you do yesterday?"
Labourer. "What you told me to do."
Farmer." In what way did you do it?"
Labourer. "In what I thought best."

Farmer. "What must I give you for the job?"
Labourer. "What you think is fair."

THE SCHOOLMASTER AND HIS SCHOLAR. "Quid est logicum? What is logic? By what rule of syntax does the Greek verb airOávoμal govern the genitive case? By what rules of prosody are cu, in cujus, made long; De, in Deus, short; and pa, in patris, common?" Master. "What says Bacon on the due observation of the Sabbath?" Scholar. "He tells us what actions and works may be done upon the Sabbath, and what not; and what courses of gain are lawful, and in what cases."

6

A HOAX.-"Quid rides?" (Anglice, "What do you laugh at?") said a facetious friend of mine, on a hunting morning, to a celebrated fox-hunter who had given his Latin to the winds.

"My Magog horse," was the reply.

AN IMPERTINENT ANSWER TO AN IMPERTINENT QUESTION."What is that to you?"

SUNDAY EVENING, IN THE COUNTRY.-" At what church was you The modern term for exorbitant per-centage.