Pillowed his white head on her filial breast, She was the last Of all the brave, and bold, and hopeful throng, She had come forth this night from many a home Where fair young hands had crowned her with green wreaths, And mourned for her departure. She had come Though feasts were spread, and rich wines poured for her, In the swift circles of the merry dance. She had left homes where lonely mourners wept For those who but a little year before Had been the gayest of the gay and glad, And now lay sleeping through the long, long night, To comfort the afflicted, nor to breathe Hope to the hearts whose loved ones were away He blessed her as he lay, "My child," he said, "the midnight hour is near, My summer flowers never fade away. I recked not of this last, this fearful hour, Or the dread world beyond the sea of death, When suns were bright, and every hour that sped Oh! for the days which are for ever lost! Like argosies laden with priceless gems, Which never reach the shore for which they sail, Lost! lost! lost! Oh! for another grant of life and strength! Another hand shall take my sceptre up, The maddened neighing of the wounded steeds, Or those who lived to mourn them. But too late I know the better from the worse, and feel Is closing round me-I no longer feel The gentle pressure of thy duteous hand.” He spoke no more. Then rose a thrilling cry A plaint of spirit voices low and sad; The clouds closed round the moon, and darkness fell, Utter and rayless, over all the earth, And the waves rose and swept away the dead. 74 HOW WE WENT TO SEE THE MILITIA REVIEW. THIS was after the fashion of it. Our cousin, Symthe de Symthe, having been a good sober country gentleman for the space of at least a dozen years, got at last wearied of "improvements on the farm," in the shape of lopped, distorted trees, and grounds painfully harrowed up on the score of production, and determined that in the present "crisis" it was the duty of every true Briton to serve his country, and therefore he should take up service in the militia. It was wonderfully becoming to him, as we all told him, the uniform; and as for the "undress," with that dear duck of a foraging-cap, and those lovely moustaches, why we never knew before how handsome he was. Then he was so clever about getting his men into training, and whatever the "real army" (as those impertinent officers at the barracks called themselves) might choose to say about "playing at soldiering," it was plain to see our cousin Symthe de Symthe might have been used to it all his life. He took such great delight in it also. He was never wearied of getting up parties of gay ladies and gentlemen to visit him at his "quarters" and partake of the charming champagne breakfasts he and his "brother-officers" were delighted to provide for them. He would take them afterwards down long dirty passages into the "men's quarters," and expatiate with delight over boiling messes of dingy potatoes and steaming questionable-looking meat. All the men touched their hats to him, like a real soldier as he was, and he would say, "I hope, my men, that you like your fare, and that you have no complaints to make?" just as if he had always lived amongst them. It was astonishing how we got ourselves up when we 66 attended these demonstrations of our cousin's. We cased our children in scarlet cloth, or leggings, or comforters, or something that looked military, and we put feather streamers in our bonnets, and walked to the sound of the drum, and looked like the real cousins of a real soldier, as indeed we were. It was very disgusting, though, when the drafts for the Crimea called so many of the militia out of England to fill up the different foreign stations left vacant by the Queen's regiments abroad; and, worse still, the craven spirit that showed itself amongst the militia when they were informed that those who had enlisted under the idea they would not be called out of England, would be allowed to retire before the new act of foreign service came into force. Half of my cousin's regiment was cleared in a morning. It was in vain that he apostrophised them as sons of England, and defenders of her soil," and spoke of "leading them to glory," and "wreathing their brows with laurels"-(I do not know where he intended to procure them from in the dirty foreign quarters in which they were to be billeted)—they were low and degraded enough to prefer their wives and sweethearts to all the glory he could offer them, and were actually seen drivelling on parade under a mystical impression they had imbibed from his speech to them, that they were to be torn from the bosoms of their families, and offered as bleeding sacrifices on the altar of their country. It was just at this period that we visited the town in which our cousin's regiment was quartered, and in an unhappy moment asked him to give us one of his beautiful military reviews before he left England. Always too gallant to refuse, he fixed an early day for us, and Mrs. Delorme, at whose hospitable house we were staying, insisted upon having her beautiful bays put into her new barouche, and driving us all on to the ground. The morning was dull, foggy, and disagreeable, but our military enthusiasm kept us warm, and our difficulty in deciding on the exact spot of ground designed for the review made it all the more interesting. Clementina was certain it was where the reviews had been held before, but Theresa had private information this ground had been taken away from them, and that we must go up to the gate of a certain large turnip-field, vividly impressed on the memory of all of us by reason of the unpleasant odour that exhaled therefrom as we passed it the day before, owing to a right of road that had been opened through it over rotten turnips on a humid ground. Theresa was right, as she always is. We heard their delightful guns popping away through the mist at the very moment the savoury turnip-steam again assailed our nostrils. It was clear we must go right through the turnips to get at the ground on which they were practising. You might have thought a soup-kitchen, of a very low description, was already established there, such a steam the greens gave out such a warm, moist, pungent atmosphere. We came upon Symthe de Symthe quite by surprise-"sunbeams breaking through the mist"-he called it; but I think privately he was a little annoyed as a rusty-looking private was just wiping down his "charger" with a wisp of damp-looking hay, that noble animal having lost his footing in the mud, and rather blemished his beauty by the thick coating with which he had bedaubed himself. It is true we could not see all the geography of the field, as there was a large puddle and a gate facing us which refused, under any persuasion, to allow itself to be opened; but now the gallantry of Mr. Cousin shone forth conspicuously. Raising himself in his saddle-girths, and pointing in a commanding manner to two of the soldiers, he ordered them "to come forward, and make way for the ladies!" It was well that John had the good sense to get off and hold the horses' heads, or they and the soldiers would inevitably have come into collision. As we went in floundering knee-deep in mud through the remains of the shattered gate, and found ourselves really on the field for practice, the drafts from the regiment made it look somewhat ridiculously small, and it struck me that both the men and their garments were rather "seedy;" but, as our cousin said, "it was necessary to keep up discipline in these stirring times, and perhaps they were rather 'worn' on the strength of it." They went through their "evolutions," however, in a wonderful manner, the swords flashing, the guns firingthe legs all going together-and of course we applauded at each new act. Clementina said, indeed, she did not see what there was in it to bring us all out of our beds on such a wretched morning; but I know she was disappointed because young Robson was not on the ground; and as for Theresa, she did not know whether they or Symthe de Symthe were most to be admired. She told us, after leaving the ground, that she thought she was cut out for a military life, and hoped we did not imbibe the foolish prejudices some people had against widowers; but we did not agree with her at the time, all our dresses having come "limp," and there being some very unorthodox spots of mud on our new French bonnets. Of course we told our cousin Symthe de Symthe what beautiful order his regiment was in, and how much we were charmed and edified by all we had seen; but to you, dear public, to whom our hearts are opened, we have no hesitation in confessing that there was base metal in the sounding gold even in the glorification of a militia review. 76 ADVENTURES OF BENJAMIN BOBBIN THE BAGMAN. BY CRAWFORD WILSON. CHAPTER XXVI. THE COUNTRY CURATE "SPEAKING of clergymen," said Mr. Cripps, in his mild tones, "I'll tell you a fact that of late years happened under my own observation." He evidently desired to change light subjects; he considered them unfitted for the Sabbath evening. You are all aware that I am not the youngest individual in the room. I've ran already nearly two-thirds of the race allotted to men in the present generation. My hair, like many of our worldly friends, began to fall off from me when I commenced descending into the vale of years. But as it is not of myself but of a dear friend I mean to speak, I shall not trespass upon your patience by a lengthened preface that can be of no possible interest to you, but commence at once with the hardships endured by my uncomplaining friend. When at school, some thirty-five years ago, I had the good fortune to gain the esteem of the senior boy; he was my elder by six years. Í was twelve, he eighteen. He was of a very steady cast of character reflective, generous, amiable, and docile almost to a fault; passionately fond of reading, gifted with most extraordinary retentive faculties, possessed of great concentrative powers, indomitable perseverance, and extreme fortitude and patience under difficulties. He was the only son of a widow, whose little stipend barely sufficed to give him a good classical education, and keep herself and daughter in a respectable position. He was exceedingly attached to her, and laboured severely to advance himself (as he knew that that was her heart's dearest wish), with the Church for his goal. As I was also of a retiring nature he took great notice of me, pitied and cheered my dulness and stupidity, aided me in my tasks, and delighted in conversing with me. I have sat by his side and listened to him-boy as I was for hours, in a secluded corner of the playground, whilst he read or expounded passages from history or Scripture that to me were as sealed books until his simple method of explaining them made all clear to my comprehension. I cared not for play when he was disengaged, nor for the nickname of " Tom Morton's Dervise," with which my schoolfellows branded me. I loved him and his society, looked upon him with awe and reverence, and only felt happy when we were together. But the time came when he had to leave the school, and with it a misfortune to himself and his family of which they never dreamt. His mother had commissioned her solicitor to raise a sufficient sum of money upon her slender annuity to put her son through his collegiate examinations, but the wretch mortgaged the full amount heavily, and decamped. Poor Tom! it nearly broke his heart. It is a sorry omen when a young man, full of hopes, strikes his legs against such an obstacle as ruin at the first step he takes from his school, in this world of trouble. Another man would have been crushed by the calamity, but Tom had others to live for |