HUSH.

BRITAIN'S BRIGHT STAR, THE QUEEN OF OUR ISLE."
LONDON, SATURDAY, JANUARY 20, 1838.

"Come up the back stairs, an' let naebody see, An' come as ye waurna' comin' to me."

The Scotch, notwithstanding their national traits of "prudence cold," and solidity imperturbable, are full of humour and naivete in matters appertaining to love. But whom does not Cupid affect? His sly godship has a way of his own, to relax gravity itself into a smile, and invest even the winter of age with a cheering sunshine. Why are we to wonder that the staid, gude Caledonians should be victims of his roguery, when we see, daily, men wedded to business, overthrown and discomfited by "the evil eye "of a roguish damsel? when we see even old folks, having, like Mount Hecla, their hearts on fire, while their heads are covered with snow. Of a truth, love is a wonderfully busy little fellow, and lets naebody alone, not even the unco knowing and canny Scot, who seems to do everything, but love and fight, by cold calculation.

Any person, who is desirous of rich amusement, a treat that will amply repay perusal, should purchase the Penny Wedding," a characteristically Scottish entertainment, which has of late derived much adventitious fame from the magic, yet truthtelling pencil of Wilkie. In the prints and letter-press description, this amusing work, which has been recently got up" in superior style, by a London publisher, and a Caledonian to boot, gives a vivid and interesting portraiture of the humours of the humbler Scotch, when Hymen is the deity of their devotions. We should have said was, for sacerdotal Cupidity has ordained "fuit." The grave elders of the Caledonian kirk could not relish a custom venerated for its antiquity, and also for its peculiar nationality, merely, because it did not bring grist to their mill. The custom, to which we advert, was not only innocent, but useful; as the "Penny Weddings were not without "gatherings" of another sort as well as people fond of mirth. There was, in general, on those festive occasions, a collection made, adequate enough, in most cases, to embark the young couple in some business or other. Even dukes, and "belted knights," often

condescended to give the merry meetings the
sanction of their presence, and the substantial
patronage of their purses. The late Duke of
Gordon, whose nobility was to the peeople, like
"the fort over the valley," raised for protection
rather than annoyance, loved to patronise the
amusements of his humble neighbours, and in the
sunshine of his own "lordly case," could never
feel quite at home, while others sat in the shade.
Alas! for that ugly, cold, calculating thing,
called Scotch philsophy or political economy,
which on the miserable plea of a Utilitarian or
rather Utopian principle, is making sad havoc
with the amusements of the poor, and widening
the gap between the patrician and the plebian.
Alas! for the grinding system, which is robbing
men's hearts of humanity, and endeavouring to
merge the milder, better and more genial attri-
butes of human nature in an all-devouring selfish-

ness.

But, though the "Penny Wedding" is gone by, Cupid is not to be cheated out of his rights by the ghost of Malthus, or the living figures of the Crotchet mongers, dame Martineau, (an old maid perhaps disappointed!) and her anxiliary, her magnus Apollo, Lord Brougham, whose gorge would swell, if he were looking at the infant population now gamboling before our window, and laughing at old winter dressed out as he now is, with all imaginable repulsiveness, bearded with icicles and breathing forth a murky fog.

The Scotch lassies are still the votaries of the

little god, full of slyness and innocent deceptions;
knowing how to cheat the high priests and vestal
guardians of celibacy, by telling their "sweet-
hearts" to

"Come na, but when the back gett is agee."
Our expressive print of last week needs not the
auxiliaries of letter-press commendation. It
speaks to the eye most pleasingly to all; except
the Malthusian tribe, to whom it must be an

eyesore." Cupid laughs at lawyers as well as
locksmiths; his net is so ingeniously constructed
as to enmesh all sorts and conditions of folk; his
arrow is never obliquous in aim, his knot is more
than Gordian, and cannot be untied; for though
there may be such things as a divorce, a thoro et
mensa, there cannot be a divorce of hearts united
together.

[PRICE TWO-PENCE.

Though rudely blows the north cold wind
Across the barren plains,
Yet still, in nature there's a charm,
Though desolation reigns.
Though leafless are the clustering trees,
That form'd our summer shade,
Yet there's a beauty still remains,
Though not so rich array'd.
Although the song of birds have ceas'd
To please the listening ear,
Still there's a music in the wind,
That's equally as dear.

But even still the redbreast sings,
Before our door at morn,
While heavy falls the flaxen snow
Upon the cheerless lawn.
How lovely looks the snow-clad fields
When shines the moon's pale beam,
When not a cloud obscures its light,
To mar the fairy scene.

The log is burning clear and bright
Upon the cottage hearth,
And round it sits a happy group,
The sons of rustic worth.
Now prattling children, sit and list
Half aw'd by what they hear
Their aged granddame tell some tale,
Of many a by-gone year.
Summer is beautiful and fair,

With flowers of ev'ry hue,
That feast the fancy with delight,
And so is winter dew.

F.

Λ. Μ.

MILL HILL.

Written after visiting Mill Hill, Gravesend,
May 16, 1831.

Oh! sweet Mill Hill, thy glorious charms I saw,
Clad in the liv'ried hue of fav'rite May,
When zephyr's fluttered on thy spangled breast,
And Sol illumin'd thee with his genial ray.
The daisy rear'd its glitt'ring starry head,
The purple violet shed its fragrant fume,
The primrose pale with sweet and modest worth,
Among the moss beneath the gorze did bloom.
The tender buds did blossom on the thorn,
And all their varied hues of shade unfold,
The simple wild flow'rs gaily deck'd the bank,
The yellow cowslip shew'd its spots of gold.
The golden cup among the grass was spread,
The yellow bloom upon the gorze look'd gay,
The blue-bell rear'd its many petal'd stem,

And nature gloried in a summer day.
The sheep were grazing on the grassy slope,
The bees were buzzing 'mid the blooming
flow'rs,

The birds did carrol 'mong the leafy trees,
And gave us welcome with their warbling
powers.

A balmy freshness came upon the breeze,

Kind nature smil'd, and all around look'd gay,
No threat'ning murmurs through the air was heard,
Or dark'ning clouds proclaim'd a stormy day.
The tow'ring ships along the Thames did glide,
Bearing their burthens to a distant land,
The shallow boat did skim the glassy wave,
Plied by the dext'rous boatman's weary hand.
Near Tilbury Fort majestically stands

Where brave Elizabeth her troops did meet,
When envious foes would desolate the land,

And conquer England with a Spaniard's fleet.
But power supreme did guard our happy shores,
And with its tempest's desolation sent,
Forc'd back th' Armada from our native land,
And render'd harmless all their dire intent.
The town of Gravesend clear beneath us stood,
The smoaky steamers glided from our sight,
The distant landscape faded on our view,
And all around inspir'd us with delight.
Oh! could I pass me through this vale of years,
Free from the many raging ills of life,
On thy lone summit would I fix my cot,
Nor heed the busy world's tumultuous strife.
H. J.

TO A FLOWER GIRL.

There's not a flower within thine hand,
Damp with the morning dew,
But what would blush to see thee stand
A rival with its hue.

What flower would not neglected lie,
What bee would stay to sip,
That ever felt thy tender sigh,
Or tasted thy sweet lip.

A rose more lovely ne'er can grow,
Than that upon thy cheek,

A dew more cheering ne'er can flow,
Than when thine eyes shall weep.

MOHAMET BEN ALI, or, THE ARAB'S
LOVE.

was very rational that M. R. and his daughters should be of the number.

On their arrival at the mosque, or now Christian temple, Marcelina became pale, and clung to her father. It was the Bedouin she saw, he seemed Great indeed was the movement in Algiers, the unhappy, nay fearful. He cast his eyes towards drums beat, and crowds flocked to the Square of the altar-he sighed deeply-he had come doubtBab-Azoun. An escort was conveying two Scheikslessly to bid a last adieu to Mahomet, and call to execution, they were to be decapitated; on down his vengeance upon the authors of, to him, their arrival at the fatal spot, as if by magic, there so audacious a sacrilege. was a silence most awful-the crowd now retired who had come to see Aarbi-ben Moussa and Caid Mestaoud die, for they now were lifeless,

their heads severed from their bodies.

One of the spectators of this drama was a young and interesting female, but who had now reached her home in the Lalahoun Street, she entered an apartment and sank almost lifeless on a sofa. Her return had been perceived by another young female, her sister, who ran to her, and seeing her pale and suffering, embraced her affectionately, saying, “I am convinced you have been to the execution of the two Scheiks, how could you go to such an exhibition? Do not tremble thus, you are at home with your dear sister." "Thanks, Angela." After awhile Marcelina's agitation subsided, when she recounted the death of the two Arabs who for so long a time (although they wished to be thought friends to the French) were the prime movers of murder and pillage in the Metidja.

66

Angela and Marcelina pressed their father to withdraw, and in their hurry one lost her handkerchief and the other a glove. The Bedouin picked them up and secreted them."

As a matter of course the young females had a discussion relative to the Bedouin, and the circumstance of losing a handkerchief and glove, but they came to the conclusion that it was no ordinary Bedouin-he must be rich-he was very hand

some-.

Time passed on, when one evening returning from a promenade the Bedouin made his ap pearance, as he passed the sisters he knelt down imprinting a convulsive kiss upon the flowery robe of Marcelina. Her sister Angela smiled, observing, "the Arab must be in love with you, allow me to felicitate you. It will be difficult to make a Lovelace out of a Bedouin, and imagine Marcelina R. transformed into Madam Bedouine.

It was true the Bedouin had a heart, and he did Coming," said Marcelina, "from the quarter of love, the type of the ridiculous or the sublime of Bab-Azoun, I found myself near the Square of the a violent love. Daily did he await their going same name, crowds flocked to witness the sanabroad, it was to see Marcelina, he loved her, but between him and her there were insurmountable guinary scene and found it impossible to return home, I was obliged to remain, I trembled-around difficulties-a Christian, and a rich merchant's I heard nought else but horrible imprecations daughter-a Bedouin and a Mahometan, and it against the wretches about to die. I saw the would not be permitted to purchase her like the Bedouins wrapt up in their mantles, unquiet and females of his tribe; he knew all this, he lived dejected, mumbling, I know not, either impreca-only in the sight of her, and his existence was only tions or prayers. One of them was behind me, I nourished by his passion. In one of the encounters the Bedouin pressed his suit, when Marcelina heard his words but faintly-he supported and protected me from the press of the multitude. Oh! begged he would for ever desist from molesting sister dear, what a terrible scene, such a death! her. The poor Arab fell to the ground, groaned the two criminals approached attended by a Mamost piteously, dug his nails into his breast, blood rabout and surrounded by soldiers, before them gushed forth, he would have torn his heart out had he not fainted away. glittered in the sun the fearful yatagan of the executioner. Mestaoud, called the Caid of BouffaSome months passed away when M. R., owing rick, looked pitiful indeed, his head hung low, his to certain speculations, became a ruined man, teeth beat against each other, his very flesh was obliging him to come to the determination of sendin a strange sort of movement, he appeared to beging his daughters to France to some relations; for mercy. Aarbi stood erect, he drew up his gigantic stature and surveyed with his dark and eagle eye the assembled crowds, as if they were his slaves. Yes, he looked, I must not say beautiful, but romantic and terrible.

A French officer read to them their sentence,
they understood not the language, but an inter-
preter made it known to them. They ground their
teeth-their lips moved-it was the last menace!
not a prayer. The Marabout at the side regarding

the heavens, cried Allah! Allah! Allah! this was
repeated by the criminals, the priest retired, his

office was now at an end.

when on board, bidding their last adieu to Algiers, which contained their parent, they saw the Bedouin upon some rocks, melancholy and wretched, in his hand a dagger, and as the vessel left the shore so did his anguish increase. Angela and Marcelina now began to dread the consequences of the Bedouin's passion. He plunged the dagger into his side, and fell lifeless into the sea; his mantle covering him as a shroud.

when the captain of the vessel presented them The young females arrived in safety at Toulon, with a packet having their names inscribed thereon. They were all eagerness to see the contents.

The executioner seized his victim, forcing him The packets contained the lost handkerchief, the to kneel, the yatagan I saw brandished over his lost glove, and with several hundred pieces of gold head-I closed my eyes-I heard shrieks-I al--with the following words-" Pray to Allah! for most fainted. The same Bedouin who had saved the soul of the Arab Mohamet-Ben-Ali. me from the crowd supported me. What would I have not given to have left the scene of terror. On opening my eyes I beheld Aarbi on the scaffold, horribly majestic he appeared, for the last time he looked with a disdaining eye upon the concourse, he knelt down, and in a moment his head was severed from his body-my Bedouin friend pro

Sweet maid, each flower now droops its head, tected me to my home and then vanished."

And owns thee for its queen;

No flow'ret in that wreath can shed

A fragrance so serene.

Oh! that a flower, so choice, so sweet,
Should bloom here but to die;
How many will thy beauty greet,
And pass admiring by.

ALEXANDER M.

Marcelina and Angela were the daughters of a French merchant who had come to search fortune in Algiers, he had come to this country alone, but his speculations turning out favourably, had sent for his daughters.

All Algiers was in commotion, bending their way towards the principal mosque, which had just been transformed into a Catholic Church, and it

A SIGH.

A sigh bespeaks a hidden wish,
A secret thought within,
A longing after future bliss,
Or something that hath been.
How sweet it is when doom'd to part
With those we love to dwell,
It is the language of the heart
That bids a soft farewell.

ALEXANDER M.