THE " HUMMING BIRD." No. II. DE HERBERT. "Reluctant now I touch the trembling string, The party, which had been formed the previous night, met in accordance with the plan for an excursion. The sun had risen several hours, but it was nearly mid-day before the dense air yielded to the fervour of his travel. The snow had slightly streaked the ground, and the gelid hand of frost drew icelets in suspense, traced the romance of frigid fancies on glass, and congealed the surface of water. In few words, it was a fine, healthy and frosty morning. Just such as gave color to the cheek, brightness to the eye, and elasticity to the limbs. Such a morning as the party wished. They had breakfasted-were furred and attired suitably with the habits and fashions of the season; nature gave them beauty, exercise preserved it. They were all in high spirits, and prepared to keep them so. The snug chateau of the lovely widow and her beautiful daughters, was sufficient cause and excuse that three young beaux should he here already in obsequious and willing attendance; "to will and to do of their own good pleasure. The rich luxuriance of country scenery lived round them. The slant beams which fell over the face of the earth, and the keen air which shook the trees, gave them a tearful aspect; but tears which are dropped in joyous laughter, rather than by dejected sorrows. The party, which consisted, like the leaf of a young tree, of three pairs, left the village gate. They journeyed in cheerful confidence and intimate frankness, and the joke which passed from the lip of one, soon found a corresponding echo by the more laughable reply of another. The widow and her two daughters, De Herbert, his brother, and a visiting friend-these were the merry six who sported through the crisped grass and dry gravelled walks; who halted at the stiles, and, after cautious stepping, leaped over them like the timid fawns, and rejoiced in the feat. A sweet admiration occurs in the mind of an aged spectator, by witnessing the sprightly endeavours of youthful maidens; for their very attempts are enough to surprise the coldest gallantry into action. The old man, that saw these ladies triumphing in their agile motions, beamed a tear down his face and smiled, as he touched his hat when they passed him, and, perhaps, remembered the time when his heart beat in the lightness of juvenile exercises, and when he could "do the agreeable" in unswerving constancy to the object of his love, and wife, a feeble dame, in the cottage and his home of humble peace "Who now withdrew, and wishing to her guest By the late falls of rain which preceded the reign and approach of winter, the waters lay sluggishly about the ditches, and spread deceptively among the grass. But sliding had obtained credit in the rustic ponds of the farm-yards-boys ventured across the sloughs, and the skaiters were alert in every open and frozen piece of water. When the party were gamboling in the delightful avenues which the park afforded, a temptation presented itself to De Herbert, who felt pleasure in appearing with advantage to the fair sex, and lost sight of no opportunity of making his prowess work well in their estimation. Though the youngest of those present, he was the most daring, and set some portion of presumptuous defiance to the elements. With fire, he was a kind of salamandarhe escaped in his adventures with tolerable safety ;-with air, he played as a trifle, and swallowed gases, ventured in balloons, and proved himself a thing of air ;-in earth, he was notorious for speculations, and more fit for a tumbler than the son of the De Herberts;-and water and he often had tried their effect and power with each other-his amphibious nature really amused his friends, and his many escapes with boats, fishing, swimming, diving-his tricks in egots, at mills, eelcatching, birding, fowling, and in every fray, induced the anxieties of his friends. He was a fine, good-tempered, mischievous youth-qualified for nothing, if not every thing-the life and soul of the company. He could raise a ghost, or lay one; and would have made a good David Dreadnought at sea. I observed that a temptation offered in the broad blue sheet of ice in the park: De Herbert was a skaiter, and he loved to glide for hours on the " light fantastic toe," cutting circles. flourishing his name, and striking figures. Moreover, his skaites were in his pocket, and he could not resist a trial of his most favorite amusement. His friends observing him at the ice and putting his skaites on, fearful for his safety, conjured in the strongest terms of solicitude not to venture, as great uncertainty existed in waters of which he knew nothing. Many springs were, doubtless, unchained by the links of cold, and danger, like vice under the robe of flattery, lurked beneath. De Herbert was deaf to the cautions pointed out to him; he told his friends to pass on-he would cross and join them on the other side. They murmured with fear, trembling out of their hearts-they lingered-he was on the ice-his arms a-kimbo, and his limbs fulfilling the love of his winter pastime. A moment lapsed-his voice was heard the eyes of his party turned towards him-a shriek shook the air!the ice gave way- he was seen lifting his hands and struggling. For God's sake, help me!" he cried, half suffocated. The females shrieked again, and stood terror-struck; his brother and friend fled across the park to the lodge-poles and a ladder were on their shoulders returning-De Herbert sank he rose again, fighting the ice away: the side of the water was a scene of mournful fear-the efforts were used to relieve De Herbert from his peril-twice he rose his brother, in frenzied love, threw off his upper clothes-he leaped into the wave, with a rope tied round him-he searched with the skill of a pearl-diver-De Herbert rose no more! Hours revolved to the first light of the evening star-hope would not smile-the night drew in. The drags were used, and another day slid into oblivion ere the corpse of De Herbert was recognised by his weeping friends and afflicted relatives. When he was laid out, they glanced on his features, fresh in death as in healthy sleep, and recalled the recent pleasing intervals enjoyed by his sprightliness, lamenting the waywardness of his disposition, which in its better kindnesses should have led him so early to dust. Water, like fire, is a good servant, but a bad master. THE UNCHARITABLE GIFT. "All hail! benignant name, sweet Charity, Friend of the world, and parent of mankind." Benevolence is an attribute of Divinity, and few nations can justly be said to exercise more of this sympathizing feeling for the wants and distresses of the poor and unfortunate than England. The immense number of public charities, the objects and advantagesof which are daily presented to our notice, warrant the assertion. The schools for the instruction of youth; the houses of industry and the poor houses, as refuges for the destitute, and receptacles for the feeble and the aged; together with the variety of hospitals established for the relief and cure of all diseases incident to human nature; paint the animating glow of benevolence on the features of Britannia. Charity, in its unlimited sense, may justly be considered as the masterpiece of human wisdom. It is that universal affection which we are commanded to exercise towards each other -"Love thy neighbour as thyself;" and discovers itself according to the portion of sensibility which warms and animates the heart. Hence it is truly observed, that he "who wears this jewel in his breast, has attained the nearest step to heaven." It is not, however, manifested in an ostentatious display of public benevolence; for without the charity of the mind, pecuniary gifts are but of a secondary, if not a doubtful nature. It has been supposed by some, that the extensive exercise of the generous feelings which evidently animate the hearts of our countrymen, who possess power to extend assistance to their less fortunate brethren, has rather tended to increase mendicity and pauperism, than to have proved generally useful to the industrious and deserving, though suffering classes of the community. If this can, with any shadow of truth, be alleged, it must arise solely from the misapplication of funds originally intended to provide for the aged and decriped, or the preservation of the indigent. It was in one of those delightful evenings in May, when the bright luminary of day, declining below the horizon, skirted G the distant clouds with intermingling shades of red, that, tempted by the serenity of the weather, and a desire to enjoy the freshening breeze, where it was less restrained than in the confined limits of the city, I took my way along one of the public avenues from the metropolis, with no determined place of destination in view, and with no particular object or subject to engross my contemplation. I left the busy world behind me, and seemed for a time to have forgotten its cares and its fatigues. "The sun has lost his rage: his downward orb Shoots nothing now but animating warmth, And vital lustre, that, with various ray, Lights up the clouds, those beauteous robes of heaven, Strolling thus uncontrolled along, alternately reverting to the various objects that presented themselves to my notice, I was importuned by several mendicants, some of whom, from the appearance of their necessitous situations, I relieved; others, of whom I could not form the same conclusions, were passed by unheeded or admonished. I had not proceeded far before my attention was suddenly attracted by the piteous cries of two infants in the arms of a woman by the road-side, who appeared, by her affectionate and soothing caresses, endeavouring to pacify them; but her efforts proved fruitless. Unfeeling man!" said the poor distressed mother (for such I then judged, and have since found her to be), "thy bounty has been bestowed upon a person who has not the gratitude to thank the giver, who, in relieving my necessities, has only increased my misery. Hush! hush! my darlings." The words faultered on her tongue; she pressed the children to her breast, and burst into tears. The infants continued to cry, and in a few minutes a considerable mob had collected around the poor woman. I could not proceed-I felt myself rivetted to the spot-the scene was too interesting to be passed in silence. The afflicted mother mingled her tears with those of her children; and I was soon encircled by the throng which had quickly gathered, more attracted by the cries of the children than the agonies of the distressed mother. Va |