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or of the banking-institution over which he presides, and which, on last quarter-day, borrowed a few thousands of a flush William-street house.

hope they are good and sound. It is quite possible that they may be. I only say that claret coaches are not, so to speak, property; and that Honiton-lace upon a lady's dress is no evidence in the world that her husband's paper is not very slow at ROBBINS'.

Mr. Quid having married badly, tried to make the best of it. Mrs. Quid having done the same thing, was also philosophic, until her patience gave out. This occurred shortly after the birth of ADOLPHUS, when she committed sundry indiscretions, for which she made the only atonement in her power, by dropping off, one summer's day in Paris, of a fever.

Mr. Quid learned upon investigation (apparently to his own satisfaction) that his wife was the daughter of a certain Madame GUERLIN, formerly Mrs. BODGERS, being widow to the elder brother of the deceased TRUMAN BODGERS, Esq.

I cannot say justly how he arrived at this conclusion ; nor can I definitively say here how just that decision

may

be. Supposing this to be true, there were certainly good and sufficient reasons why Mr. Quid should keep this information very much in the dark, during the life-time of the late Mr. BODGERS. I have hinted that this last gentleman had had business-dealings at certain times with the banking-house of SPINDLE and QUID. They were not, however, such, in their tone or in their results, as would warrant a retired and decayed partner of that eminent firm in boasting kinship with Mr. BODGERS, in the hope of securing a bequest. If the hope had been entertained, it would most certainly have proved illusory.

Now, however, when the old gentleman was well out of the way, it might be worth while to examine the ground cautiously; to ascertain, first, if Mr. BODGERS did make any will; and in the event of his not having done so, to bring forward, in a cautious and effective manner, the heirship of ADOLPHUS; and thus realize, at a late day, some pecuniary return for a slip of youthful indiscretion.

The visit of the younger Quid to Newtown has already been alluded to. It was by no means so satisfactory as had been hoped by both father and son. My uncle SOLOMON was kind and patronizing to ADOLPHUS; believing that he saw in him only an anxious suitor for the hand of his rural niece, KITTY FLEMING. It is needless to say that ADOLPHUS gave Mr. Solomon Fudge no intimation to the contrary.

Squire Bivins was, in his rustic way, very urbane. In virtue of his dignity as justice of the peace, he was enabled to sanction, and even to assist

, a very extended over-hauling of the old cabinet, which held place in the snug parlor of the BODGERS mansion. Not a trace, however, could be found of any papers directing the partition of the old gentleman's estate.

My uncle Solomon, who at best had hoped for no more of the BodGERS' property than Mrs. FUDGE could lay claim to as heir-at-law, was extremely satisfied with this position of affairs. He regaled himself pleasantly with the thought of making good some sad lapses in his spe

man.

culative movements, with Puebe's portion of the old property. He even volunteered a few hard jokes with the sharp-nosed justice of the peace. He farther volunteered, in the rally of his spirits, to ask Adolphus into the old lady's' house ; meaning thereby a playful allusion to his respectable sister-in-law, Mrs. FLEMING.

Mrs. FLEMING, as I said, had dusted her little parlor, and possessed just that amount of country innocence which made her quite awe-struck in the presence of the stately SOLOMON and the very elegant young gentleman, whom she felt quite sure her sister Kirty had captivated. In the guilelessness of her manner, I will not say but that she dropped a hint or two bearing that construction, very much to the amusement of my uncle Solomon, and somewhat to the confusion of our young adventurer. I have represented Squire Biving as a cautious man : he is a cautious

Notwithstanding the provocation extended by the somewhat stately manner of Mr. Solomon Fudge, he had dropped no hint in respect to the will drawn up by himself on a recent occasion; and in which will, it may be remarked, there was very slight mention of either Aunt PHEBE or family. The drafting of this will, notwithstanding its lack of signature, so far as Squire Bivins was aware, was certainly an awkward fact to communicate to Mr. FUDGE ; but not so (in view of Quid's prospective relations to the FLEMINGS) to the younger party.

Squire Bivins, in his little office by the meeting-house corner, revolved the matter; regaling himself, in his usual manner, over the office-stove and the apple parings. He determined to dispatch a small note after Mr. Quid, requesting to see him a few moments, in relation to the unfinished business of the morning. Mr. Quid, though thoroughly satisfied with the investigation in company with Mr. FUDGE, renewed his call upon the wiry justice of the peace.

The Squire offered a chair, and patted his wig caressingly.

“There do n't seem to be any will,' said the justice, looking up from under his spectacles.

'It seems not,' said Quid, very cheerfully.

Squire Bivins winked at Adolphus, which Mr. Quid not understanding, regarded him very attentively.

Supposing, young man, that the Squire, who was a keerful man, had made a will : what then?' * Then he would,' returned Mr. Quid, in a very natural manner.

Very true, young man; but to what one of his kinsfolk do you suppose he would have given his property ?'

'I really can't say,' returned Mr. Quid: 'I never had the pleasure of Mr. BODGERS' acquaintance.'

"Oh, ay; very likely.' And Squire Bivins determined to try his client upon a new tack.

Young man,' commenced he, again giving his pantaloons his usual toilet-hitch in a downward direction ; 'young man, Squire Bodgers did make a will.' Quid's countenance fell

, and his color went strangely. You know it, Mr. Bivins ?' said he, falteringly.

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'I know it, Mr. Quid.'

And Mr. Bivins, with a complacent look, took a small chew of tobacco; first offering the twist to the pallid Mr. Quid, who, it is needless to say, declined.

Squire BIVINS waited.

Mr. Quid took another small bill from his pocket — 'foreseeing,' as he expressed himself, that he should have occasion to consult Mr. Bivins at some length and tendered it to the justice.

Mr. Bivins smoothed the bill upon the table, without specially seeming to regard its amount, and placed upon it the tobacco-twist before mentioned.

'A will,' said Mr. Bivins, taking up the subject gracefully where he had left it,'a will which I had the honor of drawing up myself upon this very table; a will, Mr. Quid, by which he bequeathed the bulk of his large property, tan-works included, to Miss Kitty FLEMING.

Squire Bivins had, for once, mistaken his man; he had fully expected to see a gleam of rapture spread over the face of Mr. Quid at such an announcement. On the contrary, he saw even greater pallor than before.

A later communication, however, produced a much happier effect; Mr. Bodgers had not signed the will; indeed, so far as he knew, it was no will at all. He knew nothing of its whereabouts. It had very probably been destroyed.

“Yet, to tell truth,' said Mr. Bivins, the Squire was not a man to draw up papers for the sake of burning 'em. `A keerful man was the Squire.

And with this much of information only, Mr. Quid takes leave of Mr. Bivins, leaving, however, his address, with a request to forward at once any new information which may come to light, either respecting the draft alluded to, or any subsequent instrument.

The Quid chances have certainly a very favorable aspect; somewhat dampened, however, by the fact, which presently comes to the knowledge of both father and son, that a certain Mr. BLIMMER, who was in company with Mr. BODGERS at the time of his death, “had intrusted to him commissions of considerable importance by the deceased gentleman.

This fact is derived from a careless editorial mention in the Daily Beacon, within a few days after the occurrence of the accident. It did

that

any such notice had been given under the name or direct authority of Mr. BlImmer. To this Mr. BlImmer, however, Mr. QUID determined to address himself without delay; and we shall renew our acquaintance with both senior and junior Quid in the office already described as being cheerfully illustrated by the Blimmerville diagrams and lithographs, with the Blimmersville church in the extreme distance.

Meantime, my good cousin Kitty, altogether ignorant of those plans and counter-plans in which she bears so large and so unconscious a part, counts the days which tie her still to the pleasant life of the city; and dreams each night of those pleasanter days which will open upon her under her own mother's home, and amid the fragrance of the old roses which crowned her childhood with their bloom.

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ѕ ү м Р А т н ү .

OVID.

Dicere solatia.'

CONTEMPLATE,
With lively joy the joys we cannot share.'

COLERIDG 3.

BLACK-Eyed or blue-eyed, brightly brown or fair,
With gentle mien, sweet voice, and wavy hair,
I see the children on the parlor-floor,
Or grouped like flowers around the garden-door.
I hear their merry talk, and see their play,
And backward look to many a happy day,
When on my hearth I saw the genial light
Of joy domestic, ere the saddening night
Of sorrowful bereavement veiled my sun,
As all my darlings vanished one by one.

First went my Willie; pleasant, playful, yet
Full of grave thoughts; my play-thing and my pet,
But oftener my companion, when my mind
To turn to themes supernal was inclined.
Then his deep questionings of heavenly things
Heaven nearer now his tender memory brings --
Would make me draw him closer to my heart;
For though 't was sweet to hear him, I would start
To see his eye, beaming with inward light,
Seemed turned from me to things beyond my sight;
And all I'd heard, and all I'd thought and felt
Of childhood early wise, my heart would melt;
And that which made him dearest, made me fear
That from my boy the parting-hour was near.

Then joyous CHARLIE, bright-eyed, bounding boy,
Than Willie elder, gave me gayer joy.
My heart delighted in his sprightly plays:
His works inventive, his engaging ways,
Gave me the promise of a noble man,
Able to execute as wise to plan;
Genial and friendly, making friends of all ;
Quick-eared to answer every worthy call;
Blending through life the useful and the sweet ;
Equal to any fate, for all things meet;
In the best sense, a fortunate, a brave,
Companionable man.

A small green grave
Now holds the form that gladdened so my sight!
I turn from that to see in faith's pure light
His living form; I think of nobler spheres
For such an active life, and dry my tears.

Sweet little Mary, fairy CAROLINE
I seem to see them now their arms entwine
Around each other lovingly, and hear
Their prattling voices, once to me so dear.
But as their good young brothers, so went they,
And we were left alone. The lonely day,
The silent house, (missing the ministries
By which she made each sick child, in her eyes,
Dearer than when it was her joy to see
Its healthful play, and tell its life to me,
When twilight bliss curtained the blinding day,
And in our home the world seemed far away,)
Bore the sad mother down- -alas for me!
Doomed from that hour a shadowed hearth to see.

Alas for me? Yes, for a man must feel
Such partings; and it is not mine to steel
My heart against the sorrows of my lot:
My HEAVENLY COMFORTER forbids me not
To feel my griefs. I cannot cast away
The memory of what has been, though this day
Is bright with confidence of what shall be
When their dear home shall spread its gates for me.

Then, when I see the children on your door,
And hear them prattle round your garden-door,
I'll give you joy; and when the angels call
For you to give them up - or one, or all —
When the glad eye is dark, the prattle mute,
I'll tell my tale; and like a lonely flute,'
Or 'like all instruments' of soothing power,
My humble voice shall be in that stilt hour.
I'll

you; and often silent keep,
While you in speechless sorrow can but weep:
And when the power to hear and speak is given,

We'll talk together of our loved in heaven. Bridgewater, Mass., July 7, 1853.

weep with

A DISCOURSE ON DOOR-KNOCKERS.

WITH AN ANTIQUARY'S ACCOUNT OF THE INTRODUCTION OF DOORS.

Amid the shiftings and annihilations of revolution, political and economical, whether issuing from Gallic illuminist or Scotch inventor, the desuetude of whilom familiar objects, insignificant in themselves, but around which cluster our pleasant memories, occasions a pensive regret, which your men on stilts, with much conceit of self-importance, contemptuously regard as trivial, but which really results from a disturbance of the harmony of the series (contributing so much of human happiness) of inanimate attachments. They constitute the scenery which marks the progress of this life-drama, and fixes in our remembrance its successions of action. As intimately associated with the rudest household utensil may be the being, the thought, the pleasure, and the pain of our retrospect, as is the moss with the rock, or the tendril with the twig. The cradle, scarred and rickety, bestowed in an obscure corner of the cheerless garret, troops upon us the hilarious sports, the solemn mimicries, the joys and spites of the nursery. How vividly in after life do our first razor and shaving-brush (cherish them, O ye men of whiskers !) recall the flush of conscious expansion, the unutterable complacency with which we surveyed the dawning of birsute promise! What a glowing picture may be summoned by the contents of an old work-box! The cheerful fire-side, the animatingly-lighted room, the heart-gushing vivacity of kindly converse, the venerated features impressed with benevolence, the busy fingers that have long since ceased to ply the polished needle. If this

any aim and purpose, it is the obliteration of attachments. Custom is a word of the past; change is one of the present. The revolutionist, from hatred of hoary error, becomes averse from all

age have

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