these things, had made him promise to carry it about with him, sat down in the dim morning light and read.

"What was that heavy plunge a little before midnight, Hinton ?" asked his captain, the next day; "for I think it was you who kept watch."

"Only Jack fell overboard, please your honour," replied one of his comrades, coming to his relief.

And his commander thinking the boy, what with the fright, and the ducking he must have received, had been already sufficiently punished, contented himself with a mild reprimand, and a warning to be more wakeful in future.

All of which Jack took in good part, for he knew it was vain telling the truth, as they would only laugh at him; or he forbore, perhaps, out of delicacy to the lady, who had behaved so handsomely at last.

It was strange, but the oldest of that ship's crew, never remember so calm and swift a voyage, in consequence of which they arrived in port some weeks before the appointed time.

And just as Mary, not content with numbering the days was reckoning up the very hours before her lover's return could possibly be expected; as if her wish had power to conjure him up, there he stood, looking the very personification of health and happiness.

Once again with clasping hands they gathered together round the fire; but Mrs. Hinton had nothing but bad news for her son. His stern uncle was dead, and had left his little property to a woman no way related, who came to nurse him when he fell ill.

Besides which, Mary found a difficulty in disposing of her baskets, and fishing-nets, the neighbouring towns being already well supplied; and for the last few months they had, by all accounts, lived very hardly, and even incurred debts, which would absorb a great portion of poor Jack's earnings, so that their prospects for the future were gloomy enough.

"But it's no use talking of what's past," said Mary, lifting her pale face fondly to his, "now that you are returned, all will soon go well again, and we are both very young yet."

Jack kissed away her tears, and it being his turn to relate what had happened during his absence, told them the story of the voyage and the sea-nymph, just as I have told it to you, producing at the same time the piece of green spar, which he had kept very carefully ever since.

Mary laughed at the idea of finding a wedding portion underneath the hearthstone, and asked half archly, half in sadness, whether it would not be quite time enough to seek for it when such an event seemed more likely to take place than at present; but Mrs. Hinton agreed with her son, that it would not be much trouble just to lift it up and see.

Had any of the neighbours happened to come in just then, they would have thought them all mad, to see how hard they worked to raise that heavy stone, which gave way at last, just when they were almost inclined to give up the task in despair; and sure enough underneath was an old fashioned-looking casket which had the appearance of being rusted, and eaten away by long immersion in the water, filled even to the very lid with gold coins.

It is useless to attempt any description of the scene that followed, how Mary could scarcely believe her own eyes, but sat looking at them and weeping like a child. While Jack kissed her and his mother, and the old casket alternately, and would have done the same to the nymph herself had she been there, which she was not in substance at least, whatever she might be in spirit.

Well, after all, they were but simple people, for what did the sailor do, but take the box and its contents up to the squire, who being something of an antiquarian, I think you call it, and well off besides, was very pleased to be allowed to purchase them at less than half their value, although the sum paid appeared very large to them, and was quite enough to make them happy all the rest of their lives. But there is no question but Jack, had he gone the right way to work, would have been a rich man, and his family after him to this day.

The coins were afterwards proved to have been part of a cargo of a vessel wrecked some fifty years before off the coast of the East Indies; and although many laughed at Jack's tale, there has not been one found who could satisfactorily explain how the coins came to be lying so snugly beneath the hearthstone of that remote cottage.

Ay, this very hearthstone, lady, upon which your feet are now resting.

"Is it possible!" exclaimed I, "Then you are probably related to the hero of this wild story?"

"I am his great grandson."

"Well," said I, after a pause, during which I had been examining with increased interest the piece of green spar, “after all it might have been true."

"That's just what I say," replied the old man, earnestly; "the world is a large place to be made solely for the use of us mortals. And I maintain that not only the sea, but the very air at this moment may be teeming with an invisible race of beings as loving, as beautiful, and as good, as Jack Hinton's nymph!"

And he seemed pleased that I could not smile at so wild a creed.

Oh! what a glorious sunset! what a calm, holy moon there was that night, as I sauntered in happy mood by the sea-shore; now bending down my ear to the waves, and mistaking the flute of one of our companions at the hotel for the song of the siren; of a truth, it was marvellously sweet, heard afar off at such an hour. And then laughing at length at my own folly, but fearing more the ridicule of those within doors, returned home to dream of Jack Hinton.

I would fain that my readers should remember that night as well as I, and so transcribe for their amusement the tale as it was told to me.

THE FLOWER-STEALERS.

A FACT.

[BY LAMAN BLANCHARD, ESQ.

With gentle hand,

Touch, for there is a spirit in the woods.

WORDSWORTH.

FOLLOWING the gardener through some of the loveliest portions of his Grace's magnificent domain we all entered the conservatory.

The heat was oppressive. As we passed out of the fresh air, although the light breeze that crept about had just before appeared to serve no other purpose than that of blowing the sunshine into our eyes, the atmospheric change was stiflingly perceptible. The uneasy sensation, however, was but momentary; for as soon as the rapid glance, startled and delighted, had taken in the full display of flower and leaf, every sense seemed to share the intoxication of the eye, and the rapt soul fed on a profusion of beauty.

There was the blush of the drooping-flowered fuchsia; the delicacy of the abundant azalea; the orchidea whose flowers are living butterflies, beautiful but motionless; the vivid yet soothing scarlet of the cactus; the more than alabaster of the camellia: the single stem of the rare lileolum lanceatum; there moreover were rich varieties of ericas, each eclipsing the other in luxuriance and beauty; and countless rarities with long names and short lives, green and golden wonders, colours that made the rainbow tame, and yet were often less exquisitely lovely than the symmetry of their several parts, the strength and lightness of the stems whence they drew being, and the harmony of the general combination.

The collection which was so striking and superb in its general effect, was more enchanting in detail. We paused at every step; admiring in plants familiar to us, a perfection and maturity unknown to them elsewhere; and in others, which were newer to our eyes, a charm surpassing all. We became converts to the melancholy doctrine, that the loveliest things are after all the rarest. But there was no touch of melancholy in the feeling then. That keen perception of the beautiful was all joy.

The ladies, who were my companions, were gladdened beyond telling. Amongst their various tastes there was one-it was rather a passion that made the whole five hearts beat as with a single pulse. One love united them all-gave the same lustre of earnestness and admiration to their eyes, the same flush of warmth and pleasure to their cheeks-it was the Love of Flowers!

Mrs. Gardiner, had she been present, would have hugged them every one. I could have done it myself.

On they passed, slowly and inquiringly, but with quick sight and leaping hearts; their ribbons, their draperies, all but the cheeks before mentioned, and the lips that might be yet more lovingly alluded to, made pale by the hues which surrounded us.

The plants, in their utmost rarity and bloom, still seemed but worthy -only worthy-of their human admirers. My soul, moved by the association presented to it, spake unto the blossoms in their many dyes, in their various qualities of brilliancy and meekness, and said,

"Oh, Flowers! your delicacy is not unmatched, while spirits, like the spirits of these fair beings, move amongst ye! And if ye are emblems of innocence-here, behold, is that innocence itself, arrayed like you in beauty!"

And I thought that I would send the sentiment thus expressed, as a pleasing novelty, to some tenderly conducted magazine.

While I was gently musing upon the elevating, the purifying influence which the love of floriculture exercises even over coarser minds, and exulting in its exquisite workings upon the refined natures of my fair companions, I was stopped by a general exclamation of pleasure, suddenly elicited by the view of an unrivalled cluster of blossoms crowning many others, which rose or fell in infinite variety and with astonishing profusion. Why record the name of this plant?—even its colour, or the figure of its countless leaves?

As we stopped, the gardener who had left us to gather bouquets for the party, re-entered, and presenting each of us with some choice flowers, said,

"I would cut you some of these beautiful clusters, ladies" (turning to the one plant), "but they would die directly in the open air-you would not keep them ten minutes."

I felt half-angry with the goodnature of our attendant. Cut them! Those! The precious perishables! To doom their short lives to a yet shorter date to destroy their consummate symmetry-seize their peerless beauty, and waste it on the desert air! The idea of it awoke horror. It seemed impiety. It was like shooting nightingales while in full song, or clipping the wings of humming-birds.

When he again quitted the conservatory, we pursued our tour of admiration, found numberless beauties we had missed, and presently returning, stood before the same specimen of floricultural perfection. And here the pen seems actually to burn between my fingers-my very fingers as they guide it blush.

Whether it was that the idea of cuttings from its rich stem had been implanted in the minds of my innocent and gentle companions by him who had given breath to it-or whether that spark of doubtful and conditional promise had fallen upon an inflammable train of wishes already existing in the mind, I know not; but their desires now appeared all to take the same direction-they grew ungovernable-they began to find expression, not in coveting looks alone, but in broken words and half-repressed exclamations. United in one guileless and enthusiastic love before, they seemed united still-but it was in one wish-one fear-not a fear of sacrilege, but of detection.

Would that Mrs. Gardiner had been there!

Yes, a fear of humiliation and exposure!-not of profanation and theft, in plucking a forbidden treasure of unexampled delicacy, and trampling it momentarily in the dust.

Before we passed over the threshold of that conservatory, every one of the five ladies had snatched a slip

As I stepped into the fresh air, the breeze was not in the least degree

cooler to my cheek than the atmosphere within, but in one instant I felt my heart plunged into a cold-bath.

That thing of beauty is a pang for ever.

Oh! Ancient Mariner who shot the Albatross! young hearts that never throbbed on the far sea-spirits tender and weak, that would tremble even in the calm, and expire in the first breath of tempestmay yet do as cruel and terrible things, calling them all the while the deeds of rapturous love!

Oh Bardolph! who, having stolen the lady's lute- case, carried it eleven miles and sold it for three-halfpence, a most judicious thief wert thou, compared with purloiners, whose fragrant prizes wither in the common air, and yield them nothing.

Oh, lady, whom the great prose-teacher of memorable lessons in our complex and erring humanity, has immortalized without naming-you, who, prompted by your religious love, stole Tillotson's sermons from your friend-look earthward wherever you are, and see what love of flowers will prompt its votaries to do!

Under what sacred robes do we play our tricks! What holy names we bestow upon our covetous desires! What theft and spoliation we commit in the temple of the purest affection, amidst the symbols and evidences of innocence! Let no one ever talk of the "sentiment of flowers," who has not within him the hallowed principle, which ever guards him from the temptation of stealing even the meanest, violating truth at her very altar, and uprooting the sheltering plant of confidence.

PIROUETTES.

"DON'T tell me," said my uncle" of your Operatives (he meant Opera-dancers) who spin about like teetotums or peg-tops. I am for none of your whirligigs. It is a mere tour de force, to show how many revolutions they can make on one leg; and nine times in ten the performer, especially a male one, shows by his face, at the conclusion, what a physical exertion it has been. The best dancers are sparing of such manœuvres; for they know that any appearance of effort is fatal to Grace. When I say the best dancers, I mean such Artistes as Taglioni, and others of the same school; who, by the way, always seemed to me to deserve the same encomium that King Solomon bestowed on the lilies-they TOIL not, neither do they SPIN.

T. H.