At this moment the drum sounded for the third time, but so hollowly and dismally, that the hearers shrank back aghast. Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-ra-ra!

Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-ra-ra!

"Come away," cried Proddy, taking Mrs. Plumpton under one arm, and Mrs. Tipping under the other.

"Yes, we're all a-comin'," replied Fishwick, half-repenting his temerity.

Emboldened, however, by numbers, he followed Proddy and his companions down the passage. Parker and Madame Bimbelot brought up the rear, and the lady was so terrified that the butler found it necessary to pass his arm round her waist to support her, though his own apprehension did not prevent him from stealing a kiss an impropriety which escaped the notice of her husband, no lights having been brought with them. All was silent, for the beating of the drum had ceased. Arrived at the door of the den, Proddy paused before it. It was a thrilling moment, and Mrs. Tipping declared she was ready to faint.

After a brief delay, the door was thrown open, and a cry of terror was raised by all the spectators, as they beheld the serjeant at the end of the room. There he stood, erect as in life, in his full regimentals, with his three-cornered hat on his head, his sword by his side, and a drum-stick in either hand. Before him, on his three-legged stool, was his drum. The black patch was still visible on his nose, so was the other on his forehead. A lamp, placed out of sight in a corner, threw a ghastly green glimmer upon his face, which had been whitened with pipe-clay.

At the sight of this frightful spectre, a universal cry of alarm was raised by the beholders. Mrs. Tipping screamed aloud, and threw herself into the arms of the coachman, while Madame Bimbelot sank into those of Parker, who carried her off, as fast as he could, to the servants' hall.

Amid this terror and confusion, the spectre struck the drum. Rat-a-tat!

"What d'ye want?" demanded Proddy.

Rat-a-tat-a-r-r-r-r-a-r-a!

"What d'ye want, I say?" repeated Proddy, as the hollow ruffle died away.

66

My han'kercher," answered the ghost in a sepulchral tone. "Here's my half," said Mrs. Plumpton.

"Give him mine," murmured Mrs. Tipping to Proddy. "You must give it yourself," replied the coachman; "the sperrit wont take it from any other hand."

"I da-r-r-r-arent," she rejoined.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Plumpton had advanced slowly and tremblingly, and holding out the fragment of the handkerchief. When she came within reach, the ghost stretched out its arms, and folded her to its breast.

"He's alive!" exclaimed Mrs. Plumpton; "alive!" And she became insensible.

"Halloa, Proddy!" shouted Scales, in most unspiritual tones: "she has fainted. Some water-quick!"

Why, what the devil's the meaning o' this?" cried Fishwick. "Are you alive, serjeant?"

"Alive?-to be sure I am," he replied. "But stand aside for a moment. You shall have a full explanation presently."

And hurrying off with his burthen, he was followed by most of the spectators, who could scarcely credit their

senses.

"Oh! good gracious, Mr. Proddy," cried Mrs. Tipping, who had remained behind with the coachman. "Is the serjeant come to life again?"

"He has never been dead at all," replied Proddy.

"Not dead!" echoed Mrs. Tipping. "Oh! then let's go after 'em immediately." And she flew to the servants' hall, where she found the others crowding round the serjeant and Mrs. Plumpton.

A little water sprinkled in the housekeeper's face revived her. As she opened her eyes, she gazed fondly and inquiringly at the serjeant.

"I see how it is," she murmured; "you have played me this trick to try my fidelity."

"At all events, it has quite satisfied me of it," replied Scales, pressing her to his heart. "I'll tell you how I recovered

from my wound, which at first was supposed mortal, anon. present, I shall only say that I have quitted the service that my noble master has promised to provide for me that I mean to take a wife-and that wife, if you will have me, shall be yourself. How say you?"

She buried her face in his bosom.

"Serjeant!" exclaimed Mrs. Tipping, reproachfully.

"You're too late," said Proddy, detaining her. "Since you've come to the resolution of marryin', I can't do better than follow your example; and since you've at last made a choice, the only difficulty I had is removed. Mrs. Tipping, have you any objection to become Mrs. Proddy?"

"None in the world," she replied; "on the contrary, it will give me a great deal of pleasure."

"Then we'll be married at the same time as our friends," said the coachman.

"And that'll be the day after to-morrow," cried Scales; "I can't delay my happiness any longer."

"Pray accept my best compliments and congratulations, mon cher sergent," said Bimbelot, stepping forward.

"And mine, too, mon brave sergent," added Sauvageon, advancing.

"I had an account to settle with you, gentlemen," said Scales, stiffly; "but I'm too happy to think of it."

"Oh! pray don't trouble yourself,” replied Bimbelot. "Allow

me to present Madame Bimbelot. Angelique, ma chère, où

es tu ?"

"Madame's too much engaged with Mr. Parker to attend to you," replied Proddy.

"So it seems," said Bimbelot, with a disconcerted look.

At this moment, the door suddenly opened, and two tall men, of stern appearance, with great-coats buttoned to the throat, pistols in their belts, and hangers at their sides, entered without ceremony. They were followed by an elderly man in a clerical cassock, and a female about the same age.

"Hippolyte Bimbelot," said one of the men, advancing, "and you, Achille Sauvageon, we arrest you of high treason in the queen's name.

Here is our warrant.

"Arrêté !" exclaimed Bimbelot, in extremity of terror. "Oh, mon Dieu! what for?"

"You are accused of treasonable correspondence with France," replied the messenger. "Come along. We have a coach outside. We learnt at your lodgings that you were here." "Ma pauvre femme !" cried Bimbelot; "vat vill become of her if I'm taken to prison !"

"Don't be uneasy about her-I'll take care of her," rejoined Parker.

"Here are two of her relations, who wanted to see her, so we brought 'em with us," said the messenger.

"Jelly!" cried the elderly lady, rushing forward, "don't you know me-don't you know your poor distracted father?"

"What, mamma, is it you?" cried Madame Bimbelot. "Well, this is purely strange."

"I meant to scold you severely," cried Mrs. Hyde, embracing her, and shedding tears," but I find I cannot."

"Come along," said the messenger, laying hold of Bimbelot's shoulder. "We can't wait here any longer.'

"Eh bien, I sall go!" replied Bimbelot; "but you'll find yourself in de wrong box, bientôt. Mr. Harley vill take up my case." Why, it's by Mr. Harley's order you are arrested," rejoined the messenger, with a brutal laugh.

66

"Oh dear, it's all over vid us," groaned Bimbelot. "Ve sall be hang, like de pauvre Greg."

"Most likely," replied the messenger. "Come along." And he dragged forth Bimbelot, while his companion led out Sau

vageon.

As this was passing, Angelica threw herself at her father's feet, and, with tears in her eyes, implored his forgiveness.

"I will forgive you, my child," he said, " and grant you my blessing, on one condition," namely, that you return with us into the country at once. The Essex wagon starts from the George,' Shoreditch, at three o'clock to-morrow morning. Will you go by it ?"

66

Willingly,, father," she replied, rising; "willingly. I have not known a day's real contentment since I left your roof."

"Then you shall have my blessing," cried her father, extending his arms over her.

"And mine, too," added her mother.

And fearing if they tarried longer that her resolution might change, they took a hasty leave of the company, and hurried to the George, from whence they left for Essex, in the wagon, about two hours afterwards.

Angelica, it may be added, became a totally changed person. The former fine lady would not have been recognised in the hardworking, plainly-dressed woman, who was to be seen, ere a month had elapsed, actively employed in her daily duties in Mr. Hyde's humble dwelling.

The day but one after this eventful evening two couples were married at Saint James's Church. They were Serjeant Scales and Mrs. Plumpton-Proddy and Mrs. Tipping. Both unions turned out happily, though Mrs. Proddy became a widow, two years afterwards her husband dying of apoplexy, about a week before the decease of his royal mistress. The serjeant was appointed superintendent of the gardens at Blenheim, and had ́a pretty cottage allotted him by his noble master, which was charmingly kept by his wife, who made him a most excellent and affectionate helpmate. And here they both passed many happy years, enlivened occasionally by a visit from Mrs. Proddy.

TWO POEMS BY FRIEDRICH VON SALLET.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN, BY JOHN OXENFORD.

I.

THE GIANT'S DEATH.

ALONG the earth a noble giant stalks,

Bathing his proud head in the deep blue sky;
The ant and mole are lab'ring where he walks;
He heeds them not-his glance is fix'd on high.

He thinks the stars his daring hand invite,

With such high majesty they meet his gaze;
And he would twine them to a wreath of light,
Which from his head should dart afar its rays.

Heav'n smiles, as it perceives his bold intent,
And says," Ah, long ago the law was made,
That thou, who in the herb find'st nourishment,
My garden of bright stars should'st ne'er invade."

The giant lifts his arm-his hand will close
Upon the nearest star-flow'r-no, not yet!
He finds, while on his way he blindly goes,,
His feet already in the soil are wet.

He heeds it not-besotted with his pride,
Higher he reaches, but he sinks more deep;
The heavy soil impedes that giant-stride-
Blood-sucking reptiles round his body creep.

* "Der alte Gott," altered for an obvious reason.-J. O.

He strives for liberty with all his might

He stamps upon the earth, and still sinks in ;
The more he struggles, worse becomes his plight,
The mud and water cover o'er his chin.

The uninvaded stars above him smile,

But now to look on them he has forgot;
The ant and mole in humble safety toil,-
How willingly would he accept their lot!

"Tis all in vain!-The giant meets his death-
The dread eternal law has spoke his doom;
He who from stars would twine himself a wreath,
In the foul mud of earth has found a tomb.

II.

THE COMET.

ONCE in my path a lovely star I shone,
While mighty harmonies were rolling round,
To the vast hymn I join'd my humble tone,
Happy, that even I was bless'd with sound.

When hymns were thunder'd forth, when all was still,
When order ruled, when, wild, I rush'd along;

There woke in me at last a godless will,

And the world's music seem'd a paltry song

A childish lay, become quite weak and old-
A ditty, fashion'd by some feeble brain;
And I-within whose heart new music roll'd-
Should I toil on to such a homely strain?

Resolved to bear this weary state no more,

I snatch'd myself away with reckless force;

The adamantine bonds of order tore,

That I might choose my own-my glorious course!

Ah, from that peaceful stream of music torn,
The very sense of self has pass'd away;
Through the still vault of heav'n thus wildly borne—
A maniac, with dishevell'd hair, I stray.

A nobler song, how vainly I essay'd!

Harshly upon the planets' hymn I break;
Only for Him, by whom they all were made,
Will the world-organ in sweet music speak,

Would I were once more in my bounded sphere!
But by that fault to endless doom I rush'd,
And now I reel along, in constant fear,

Lest, by my shock, some planet should be crush'd.

Forth from my bosom flows a burning stream,
As I am through the world, loud-yelling, tost;
It breaks to streaks of light, that wildly gleam,
Would it were in the floods of ether lost!

* I give the original of this verse, to shew the modifications which have been made :—

"Der alte Gott schien kindisch und voll Schwäche,

Sein hirnlos Lieblingsliedlein abzuklimperm
Und ich-im Busen frische Liedesbache,

Soll mit am alterschwachen Biertakt stumpern ?"

The reasons for the alteration must be evident to all who can read the verse.-J. O.