their bodily ills. But Andrè boasted of hav-| ing become rich in such a strange and dishonest way, that I could not help listening, though I believe I prevented others from hearing him. I had great difficulty in stopping his tongue and in getting him to fall off in the insensible state.' Here the doctor suddenly stopped to beckon towards us two gensdarmes, who were passing; "their strong arms," he remarked, will help me to get the thigh-bone properly into its socket." The men, on being applied to, obligingly consented to lend their aid, if required, during the operation, and we all walked to the Folly in company. The woman Boisson started when she saw me enter with Lemaire, and turned deadly pale and trembled when the two gensdarmes followed us. The doctor explained the reason of the reinforcement, and she appeared re-assured. Two powerful labouring men were already there. They accompanied Lemaire into the room where the patient was, the same in which his father had died. In about ten minutes, Lemaire half-opened the door, and said, "Messieurs, you may come in now. You. Madame Boisson, had better remain where you are.' He shut the door again, and whispered to me: "This time he's in a lugubrious fit. He fancies he is going to the devil headlong. It will be a long job." แ Catherine Reynolds, the little English baby—" "I must put a stop to this," said Lemaire, or we shall do nothing to the thigh." He poured more chloroform from his bottle upon the hankerchief which covered André's face. The babble ceased; no symptom of consciousness was displayed when his leg was pricked with a pin; the handkerchief was thrown aside, and the patient lay motionless at last in a flushed but heavy slumber. "Now, Messieurs," said Lemaire briskly, "give me your aid, if you please. We must make the best use of our time we can." How four strong men pulled and tugged at the limbs of an apparently dead body, as if they meant to dismember it; how Lemaire guided their efforts, working till the perspiration streamed over his face, I need not tell. One thing, at least, was clear to me that the doctor was right in excluding the wife from such a scene. At last we heard something like the sound of a bilboquet ball when it drops into its cup. "That's it!' shouted Lemaire in triumph. "We have done it; you may let go now." He blew into André's nostrils and mouth. The torpid man came to his senses more rapidly than might have been expected. On being asked whether he had felt any pain, he replied that he had not, but that his dreams this time were not so pleasant as before. Lemaire told him that his thigh bone was in its socket again, and that they might now lift him into bed and keep him quiet; but that for the future he had better take good We found the sick man lying on his back on a thick wool mattress, in the middle of the floor, holding a white pocket handkerchief with both his hands over his face, and weep-care how he got drunk and fell into ditches. ing bitterly. "Oh! my God," he cried, they will not send for the curé to confess me, and my soul will remain in flames for ever! They will not say masses for me, after I am dead, as I made them do for my father, when I caused him to die without absolution, by telling the curé to go to Lefebvre first. But,-it would have ruined us all if the curè had not arrived too late; because-" "Hold your tongue!" shouted Lemaire into his ear. "Don't talk such nonsense, but go to sleep as fast as you can. Do you feel that?" "Yes, yes; you are pricking my leg with a pin. The pain is sharp; but it is nothing, -nothing compared to the tortures I shall feel in purgatory. Oh, this Folly! It has cost me dear; it has cost me my soul." "Have done! have done!" exclaimed Lemaire impatiently. "Do you feel anything now?" “You prick me again. If Catherine had lived to be the Englishman's mistress I would save my soul at last by telling them to dig in the floor of my hut ;-yes, even if we were all to die of starvation. I would tell them where to find the plate, the parchments, and the letters; God would pardon me, and so, perhaps, would they. But alas, alas! Poor The doctor was then about to take his leave, but I stepped forward and presented myself. "André," I said, "I will forgive you all the injuries you have done to Catherine if you will assist me in ascertaining who are Catherine's real parents, and in obtaining her rights, whatever they may be. I am now going, with these two gensdarmes and Dr. Lemaire, to search the floor of your shootinghut. Do not attempt to deceive me; I now know all. There is nothing "My shooting-hut! there." "There is," I said firmly. "Spare me, Monsieur," he faintly gasped, clasping his hands and holding them out in sign of entreaty. And then, in a still feebler voice, he added, "You do right to go there.' André's wife, who had overheard this scene, tottered into the room to supplicate my forbearance. We did go, and made her go with us. A boat carried us, armed with a spade and pickaxe, to the hut on the islet in the further corner of the pond. There we soon disinterred a strong oak box, from which the lock had been forced years ago, containing plate, money, jewels, and documents relating to a family of the name of Reynolds. We made a proces verbal on the spot, and as soon as I returned home to Catherine, I wrote an account of the whole transaction to my solicitor in England. He immediately replied, inclosing in his letter an advertisment cut out of a London newspaper, inquiring after the next kin of William Henry Reynolds, who lately died in Australia. It was stated that the deceased had formerly lived in France, and left a female infant there under the charge of a family of the name of Boisson; but in what department, or whereabouts, was not known at present. That any information would be thank fully received, and liberally rewarded, if forwarded either to the advertisers, or to the office of Messrs. Galignani, in Paris. Eventually, we proved Catherine's history to be this. She was born at the Folly, of English parents of gentle birth, who were its proprietors. Her mother was feeble in health, and André's wife became wet nurse to the child. Urgent affairs called Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds to England for a visit, which was intended to be temporary; and they left the child, and various articles of property, under the supposed faithful guardianship of Boisson the father. But the wife sickened and died in London; and her husband, a weak character, left to himself, formed a passionate attachment for a woman, who persuaded him to go with her to Australia, deserting his helpless infant daughter. When the Boissons found that month after month elapsed, and Catherine's parents did not return, they began to believe that both were dead, and formed the project of appropriating the Folly and its appurtenances to themselves, and of bringing up the infant as a peasant's child, in ignorance of her real birth. The house, the pond, and the little patch of land, were the sole temptation to the commission of the crime. Whether from avarice, prudence, or a remaining spark of honesty, the Boissons had not taken to their own use any of the property we found concealed in the shooting hut. At the end of many years of difficulty in Australia, during which he often had not the means and never the courage to return to England, Catherine's father died. When he felt his last hour approaching, he tried to write a letter home; his strength failed him before he could finish more than a fraction of what he intended to say. Imperfect as it was, it reached his legal representatives, and afforded the clue of which mine had availed himself. Catherine, through the sudden death of a paternal uncle, was the undisputed heiress to an estate in Cumberland, of larger area, though less profitable in rental, than mine in the south of England was. After a consideration of all the circumstances, we determined to let André and his wife remain in the Folly as long as they lived, taking care that it should revert to Cathe rine at their death. To each of their two daughters, who were guiltless and ignorant of the injustice, and who had never behaved unkindly to my wife, we gave a portion sufficient to procure them, as soon as it was known, the choice of a husband suited to their station. The old folks did not survive our pardon long. André again indulged in drunken habits, and again dislocated his thigh. This time Lemaire could do him no good. He died from the consequences. The woman, left alone, fretted and pined, caught a fever, and soon followed him to the grave. I then requested my friend Lemaire to take possession of the Folly for me; and we now and then visit it, in thankfulness and humility, both of us remembering the happiness we owe to having perseveringly pursued a right course, when our conscience told us that we were acting rightly. THE INFANT'S DREAM. The following appeared in the London Sentinel, June, 1830, and is here republished on account of its great beauty and touching pathos: Oh! cradle me on thy knee, mamma, And sing me the holy strain My glowing cheek to your soft white breast; And smile as you then did smile, mamma, And weep as you then did weep For I dreamed a heavenly dream, mamma, In kingdoms of glory eternally shine; I fancied we roamed in a wood, mamma, My heart grew sick with fear, mamma, And I wept aloud for thee; But a white-robed maiden appeared in the air, And she flung back the curls of her golden hair, And she kissed me softly, ere I was aware, Saying, "Come, pretty babe, with me!" My tears and fears she guil'd, mamma, And she led me far away; We entered the door of a dark, dark tomb; And a sky of endless day. And heavenly forms were there, mamma, And lovely cherubs bright! They smiled when they saw me, but I was amazed, But soon came a shining throng, mamma, Of white-wing'd babes to me; And think what a heavenward look, mamma, As he told how he went to the baron's strong Saying, "Oh! let me in, for the night is cold ;” Well, he was in glory too, mamma, As happy as the blest can be; For be needed no alms in the mansion of light, Nor a costlier robe than he. Their eyes looked love, and their sweet lips smiled, Now sing, for I fain would sleep, mamma, And they marvelled to meet with an earthborn And they gloried that I from the earth was exil'd, And I saw, as I roamed the regions of peace, Do you mind when sister Jane, mamma, Lay dead a short time agone; Oh! you gazed on the sad but lovely wreck, But it loved and you still sobb'd on! For shining with the blest, and adorned like a Sweet sister Jane was there! Do you mind of that silly old man, mamma, And dream as I dream'd before; For sound was my slumber, and sweet was my rest, While my spirit in the kingdom of life was a guest; And the heart that has throbbed in the climes of the blest Can love this world no more. A BALL-ROOM ADVENTURE, BY CAPTAIN L-. S. C. H. WHEN I was quartered in Dublin, during the summer of 18-, I received an invitation to a ball given by the officers of the ―rd regiment of infantry, at a small county town, some hundred miles from the metropolis. The -rd was formerly my own regiment. I entered it a jolly ensign, and had such a pleasant time of it there among my brother officers, a first rate set of fellows, that nothing but a most favourable exchange to a cavalry corps, as a means of returning from abroad, would have induced me to leave it. Ten years had passed since those merry days, and most of my old companions were gone from the regiment: some, like myself, had exchanged-others had quitted the service altogether, and one or two had been removed by death; but among the few remaining was my great friend and crony, Fitz-George, from whom I received the invitation to this ball, and to see whom was my chief inducement for accepting it. The "gril. ling" season in Phoenix Park was just at its height, and I could therefore obtain only three days' leave of absence; but railroads now so completely annihilate time and distance, that I did not give a second thought to what might otherwise have proved a great nuisance. The grey finished however, beyond the little station railway to Cork was then in progress; it was where I had to stop, and whence I was to take a car, nearly twenty miles further to P, my final destination. And the night was dark, and the tempest loud, And think what a night of woe, mamma, hair; And fast as the big tear of speechless care, I left Dublin on the morning appointed, my spirits enlivened by that most delightful feeling the anticipation of meeting a friend after a long separation. I don't mind confessing at once that I travelled second-class-I always do in summer, not so much for the sake of economy, as amusement and comfort. On this occasion I can remember that I had with me the usual style of travelling companions in Ireland: a woman, in a dark-blue cloak, nursing a little child on her lap; next to her, an old lady, intent on cramming the latter with cakes and fruit, to the entire satisfaction of itself and mother; two Catholic priests, in their collarless, buttoned-up coats and unstarched white cravats, with tongues for each other alone, but eyes and ears for all the rest of the passengers, more especially for some merry blue-eyed girls, who were quizzing a young man-a full-blown specimen of "the gent," most unmercifully. My own opposite neighbor was a rather handsome, ladylike woman having a boy about seven years old with her. He soon informed me they were going to Limerick to join "papa." an officer in a regiment there, which immediately afforded us an opening for a little military and other gossip, to beguile the tediousness of the journey. the ante-room, adding that he had reserved a place for me by his side at the mess-table, to which one of the servants would show me. Accordingly, after performing my hurried toilet, I found myself seated comfortably beside him, enjoying a capital dinner; and, to my mind, few things are more enjoyable than dining at a well conducted mess. The profusion of lights, plate, china, and glass on the table, with the glittering uniforms around it, combine to give a splendour to the scene, no less than the tone of goodfellowship and courtesy to strangers prevailing there, to throw a charm over it, even in the eyes of some who, like myself, are by no means novices in such matters. It is the fashion now, I am aware, among military men, to cry this feeling down, and many who have not been half as long as myself in the service, profess to consider their mess a decided "bore.' I can only say that I pity their want of taste, and differ from them in toto. I have always enjoyed a dinner at mess, and never more so than when heartily welcomed to the table of the-th, at P, after my long journey. Nevertheless, as soon as the cloth was removed, Fitz-George and I beat a retreat to his room, where, over a bottle of claret and a cigar, we had an hour's chat about old times On arriving at the little station where I and old friends; and so completely did we alighted, the difficulty was not, as I had ex- talk ourselves into imagining we were jolly pected, to find a car for the purpose of con- ensigns again, that we totally forgot the occaveying me to P- but to be allowed to sion which had brought us together, till remake choice of one, from nearly a dozen, minded of it by the sound of wheels, announcawaiting the arrival of the train. The drivers ing the arrival of the first carriage bringing surrounded me at once: each assuring me guests to the ball. Fitz-George jumped up that he was "the boy" to drive a "raal jintle- from his easy chair, and buttoning his coat,min," and that all the horses, except his own, the small white bow on which declared him were sorra bastes, bad luck to 'em!" Nor to be one of the stewards,-he fastened his do I know how long this contention might sash and taking his gloves, was off in a minhave lasted, had not one "boy," more cun- ute, merely stopping to tell me that he would ning than the rest, seized upon my valise and send his servant to assist in getting out my carpet-bag, and carried them off to his car, "toggery," and return for me himself, in half whereupon I rushed through my other per- an hour, to go to the ball-room. For some secutors after my property, and jumping into minutes after he left me I sat musing over all the car, we rattled off before they had re- I had heard from him of our former com. covered from their surprise. My journey was panions, and it must be confessed, wishing the very tedious; and the clocks had struck seven ball at " Old Nick,” for interrupting our pleaere we entered the barrack-gate at Psant tete-à tete; but there was no help for it: Upon enquiring for Captain Fitz-George, I the servant came, and dressing for "the feswas informed that all the officers of the rd, tive scene" was the order of the evening. I had just gone over to the mess of the other was put into a little better humour by Fitzregiment quartered there, owing of course, to George, on his return, with all the privilege their own mess room being prepared for the of old acquaintanceship, admiring my waistball. In another minute I had driven across coat; and when we entered the ball-room, as the square, to the door pointed out to me, and the first quadrille was just forming, I submitsending in my name to Fitz-George, he was ted with a good grace to be introduced to a shaking me warmly by the hand, apparently partner! Oh! that partner. She was a the same good-hearted, rattling fellow, as small, fair girl, dressed in blue, and at first when we were subs together. He immediately answered-"Yes, sir; no, sir," to all my brdered his servant to go with the carman to efforts at conversation, half-frightened, I supput my "traps" in his room, at the same time pose, by my moustache; for when she became giving directions that every thing necessary more familiar with that, or with me, she chatto remove the dust of the journey from my-ted away about the people in the neighbourself and clothes might be brought to me in hood, all strangers to me, till I wished her reduced to monosylables again, and inwardly "You must be blind, Fitz," I replied; "I |