prised, en passant, had been visiting Mary every | she was here, might have sent a bundle of her day from the period of the bride's arrival. Sin-cast-off clothing, to make the children warm and gularly enough, at each of these visits she had decent. It is gall and poison to receive anything encountered Andrew; who for some reason or from the rich, but- "and here Jack swore a other, was seldom away from the house. fearful oath "while I was doing the thing, I'd take care I did it handsomely."

the course of a few days. "Do not refuse us," | bride had anticipated the possibility of a mutual it concluded, - "the happiness of being of liking between Andrew and Isabella; and, deservice to you and your little girls, at a season sirous at any rate of promoting the understandwhen all old grudges ought to be forgotten, or ing between two such congenial characters, and only serve as incentives to the exercise of Chris-knowing how much the outer may be considered tian forgiveness."

The children began to dance with delight round the old chest where all these good things were spread out, occasionally stopping to smell at the pudding, and extract a raisin or a bit of candied peel from its ample sides; and Jack, bolting the door to prevent the intrusion of any neighbor, sat down again before the fire, with Martha's letter in his hand, and, placing a foot on each hob, fell into a totally new train of reflections suggested thereby.

the type of the inner, had herself directed the choice of Isabella's attire for the occasion. It was to be of the simplest white lute-string, without fluttering ribbons or ornament of any kind. A broad, dark-green sash alone restrained its smooth folds; and around the pale golden tresses was bound a wreath of the delicate wild ivy, unintermingled with anything brighter or more showy.

The first arrivals were Mr. and Mrs. Tom Sellers, with their retinue of children; the five It was Christmas-eve also with the Drum- youngest of whom were sent for the present along monds and their friend Andrew; and there, in- with the servant, who had come to carry the deed, the hearts danced to the flickering of the twins; to play in a large cheerful room prepared cheerful blaze, and reflected its warmth in their for their reception; where a nice girl, the eldest own glow of happiness. For Mary, pleasant of Carry's Sunday-school class, was in waiting, to little Mary, looked so serenely content in the an-help to keep them in order. Mrs. Tom was rather ticipation of the morrow's delight, that her timid and fluttered at first; for, being a plain youthful freshness had all come back again, re-master-builder's daughter, she considered Tom's storing the dimples that fatigue, anxiety and sor- relations very grand people indeed; but the row had well-nigh changed into wrinkles. Her sweet, frank manners of our bride soon placed her altered aspect communicated its gladness to her quite at her ease, and when the Misses Sellers at husband and their visitor. In short, the Yule-length made their appearance, she bore her introlog was upon the fire, and they were determined duction to them with great composure. to enjoy their Christmas-eve in fitting style.

"Dear me," said Andrew, suddenly rising, and pushing back his chair, "I had almost forgotten. Mrs. Drummond, can you mull port?"

Mary answered in the affirmative; and forth issued from the prolific pocket of the shaggy great coat an ounce of nutmegs and a bottle of Oporto's best bee's-wing.

We may imagine what were the toasts drunk, and the sentiments expressed, over the moderate bumpers of Mary's excellent mulled port.

CHAPTER VI.

Brightly shone the holly-berries and cheerily waved the laurel, ivy, and bay, and other evergreens that decked the walls, the windows, and every available corner in the handsome drawing room at Beech-House. Mr. Sellers and Martha were already there, to receive their guests, and were meanwhile anticipating the pleasant denouement of their little mystery.

"I trust," said Martha, "that Mary and her husband will arrive just at the right time, neither too soon nor too late. I think our directions were plain enough."

Oh, I have no fear," replied her husband. "Let me look at you, dearest. One would get fired of black satin upon any one else, but really it suits you so well, my little queen. And that wreath upon your smooth hair, is it real ivy and holly-berries, love?"

"Isabella," said Martha, drawing her aside, "where is your ivy-wreath? Why have you on that bright-pink sash? And what has detained you so long?"

"I am almost ashamed to tell you, Martha. When I was quite ready, I went to help my sisters, who had not yet begun to dress; they said it was so unfashionable an hour for a dinner-party, and such queer people were coming. They even doubted whether they should dress at all; and teased me so unmercifully about what they called my classical attire, ascribing it all to your singular notions, that I turned coward, partly for your sake, and made a little alteration in one or two particulars."

"And if you wish to gratify me, dearest Isabella, at this my house-warming, you will alter back again to the wreath and the green sash, and take off that fine brooch. I have a particular reason for this, which I will tell you half a year hence."

Isabella fixed her blue eyes on her friend's countenance, with a look of mild inquiry, but nothing was to be seen but a kind of suppressed archness. However, the young girl hastened to obey, and while she was up stairs, another rat-tattat sounded at the hall-door. The bride glanced uneasily at her husband, but her half-formed fears were quickly dispelled by the announcement of Mr. M'Farlane.

And now Isabella came down in all her classical loveliness, and dinner was on the point of As real, darling, as the decorations of the being announced. But there was a delay unac walls and windows. But, hark! some one ar-countable to the majority of the company. Conrives. And none of your daughters are downversation flagged, and a kind of pause of expectayet. Isabella is not wont to be so long in dress-tion prevailed. Mr. and Mrs. Sellers too, aping."

Now we must let our readers into a little seeret, and inform them, that, with the true divination of a woman of her perceptive powers, the

peared fidgety, and cast uneasy glances towards the door. At length there was another summons upon the knocker, a slight bustle on the stairs. Jane and Caroline looked at each other with sur

prised inquiry; the rest of the guests turned their | asked others, who had never heard of this beautiheads eagerly, to see who the new arrivals might ful and pleasing German custom. The little chilbe; and the bride and her husband moved hastily towards the door.

Again we must call upon the reader's imagination to fill the place which we resign, in humble confession of our inadequacy to describe the sensation caused by the entrance of Mr. and Mrs. Drummond. The tearful delight of Isabella, albeit restrained by the presence of so many strange witnesses; the bewildered astonishment of Carry and Jane; the agitation of poor little Mary; and the sympathy of our benevolent Martha, with the extreme delight of her husband, whose heart's portals, once expanded, seemed in no danger of ever closing again, all formed a scene never to be forgotten by the parties concerned.

--

But where is Mr. Fairlegh?" asked the bride, when they had time to think of any one out of the immediate family circle.

dren danced and clapped their hands; the twins held out their arms and crowed; and the servants, who had been ordered to assemble in the drawing-room, crowded round the door, to see what was going forward.

"This is a Christmas-tree," said Mr. Sellers, "first invented by our neighbors the Germans. The proper time for its exhibition is Christmaseve, but we took the liberty of postponing it to this day, to celebrate the happy occasion of welcoming back a much-loved daughter and her esteemed husband; and of renewing our acquaintance with many kind friends, too long neglected And now Mrs. Sellers will perform her part of the evening's solemnities."

For the benefit of those of our readers who are not acquainted with the beautiful descriptions of the Christmas-tree in Mary Howitt's and other modern works and translations, we will just say, Isabella started, and then pretended not to lis- that the one in question was a young fir-tree, ten for the reply; which, however, she heard dis-placed in a large tub gaily painted for the occa tinctly. sion. Its branches were hung with tiny tapers, cut paper, oranges, apples, bunches of raisins, figs, bonbons, and other showy and delectable trifles, besides more solid ornaments, in the shape of pretty and suitable presents for the children, young people, and servants.

66

Isabella," said Mr. Sellers, as the distribution of the presents began. But Isabella was not forthcoming.

"He begged me to present his kindest regards, and said that unavoidable business prevented him from accepting your invitation to dinner, but that he would be with you shortly afterwards." Martha looked towards Isabella, and their eyes met. There was an archness in the glance of the bride that made the latter blush, in spite of herself; but she thought, "My new mamma is no witch, after all: what can she know? So, "I saw her, a moment ago," said Jane, “talkwhen the huge original made his appearance, ing to Mr. Fairlegh, under the lamp." just as the dessert was set upon the table-for "And here she is still," said honest Andrew, what with the youngsters, who were lost in aston-bravely handing Isabella out of the corner which ishment at the handsome set-out, and the zest had attracted the couple to its snug recess. with which their elders enjoyed the occasion, the" Here she is, ready to dance Sir Roger de Covdinner lasted to quite an unusual period - the erly, or anything else that may be required of her." only thing observable in Isabella's manner was a "Oh! a dance by all means," vociferated John kind of friendly empressement, which completed her beauty, by adding to it animation.

It was now getting dark, and as soon as a movement had been effected into the drawingroom, Martha and Isabella spoke low together, and the latter left the room for several minutes. "What can this mystery be between Mrs. Sellers and Isabella?" whispered Jane to Caroline, as they sat apart employed in the amiable occupation of quizzing the guests. "The little boudoir has been kept locked all day. I tried to get in when they were there this morning, but Isabella came to the door, and told me I should know all about it this evening. Look! Mrs. Sellers has taken the key from her pocket, and now Isabella is going in with a light. She was too quick for us to see anything through the door, though."

M'Farlane" a dance under the misletoe. I can cut a figure in that dance myself," and the little man hopped about on one leg, until every one was glad to get out of his way.

66

'Be sober, inan," said Mr. Sellers. "My bride has a meerschaum for you, which she begs you to accept for her sweet sake." "And a doll for me!". "And a drum for me!" "Hush, children," said buxom Mrs. Tom. Just then, a dull, dead tramp, as of a number of people marching up the carriage-drive, sounded from the garden out-side.

66

"Oh, sir," said one of the servants, coming breathlessly from the window, where she had been looking out, "such a number of people on the lawn! It can't be the Chartists, sure." Martha," said Mr. Sellers, "postpone the In about the space of ten minutes Isabella re-proceedings a moment. I will go and see what turned, leaving the mysterious portal open be- it means." hind her. Mr. Sellers gave his arm to Mrs. Tom, who nervously accepted the honor, and desired the rest to follow. All, impelled by curiosity, immediately obeyed; and the little apartment was speedily filled to overflowing. Their eyes turned in surprise to the centre of the boudoir; for there, beneath a canopy of holly and missletoe, stood a fine Christmas-tree.

A few moments of suspense ensued, and some of the ladies and children began to look half frightened. Mrs. Tom pressed closer to her husband, and Mary hastened across the room to Henry's side.

"It is only," said Mr. Sellers, returning, “a parcel of people who fancy that my little Martha here has done them good service this hard "How beautiful!" exclaimed some of the com- frost. They insist upon seeing her at one of the pany. "What is it?" "What does it mean?" | windows, that they may cheer her."

The green damask curtains were thrown back, head drooping, and her dark eyes filled with the shutters of the principal window opened, and tears, would willingly have retreated from the by the blaze of light in the room behind, Mar- public homage thus offered to private and most tha's figure was plainly seen by those on the Christian worth. For what had she done, but lawn below. Then arose a shout from men, wo- carry into practice, as much as in her lay, the men and children. Andrew Fairlegh stepped out golden rule for human morality through all time on the balcony, and taking off his hat, notwithstanding the cold of the night, signed to them to be quiet.

So we join the happy company in the drawingroom at Beech-House, and humbly begging for And those without, and those within, heartily a moment's audience, add from our inmost souls, responded to the cheer; while Martha, her meek" One cheer more for the Christmas Bride."

The Literary World was a weekly journal of a quarto form.

Messrs. E. A. and G. L. Duyckinck state in their parting announcement that it was begun Feb. 6, 1847, and was organized in its literary department by one of them; in the course of that year it passed into the hands of Mr. Charles F. Hoffman, by whom it was carried on until October, 1848, when the property and editorial charge were devolved upon them. They have thus been connected with it during nearly its whole existence. - Daily Advertiser.

From Chambers's Journal.

THE POETRY OF ELIZABETH BARRETT

BROWNING.

Jed to the development of that part of her nature which so often struggles rather than flows through her writings, we can easily conceive her mode of thinking, as well as her taste, to have PROFESSOR WILSON gave perhaps the most been greatly affected by her studies; while her concise definition of poetry which could be at-emotions, restricted in their range. now break tempted, when he said it was the " intellect color-out into narrow channels, often with far more In one pointed by the feelings." If this brief interpretation than womanly vehemence. of a term so familiar, and yet about the precise namely, the influence of sorrow upon her genius meaning of which so much has been written, there may be said to be a similarity between does not include all descriptions of poetry, it her poetry and that of her female contempora certainly applies very directly to that which ries or predecessors in general; but even that inemanates from the female mind. In the writings fluence is usually manifested in a peculiar way. of almost every literary woman, it is very obvi-It is occasionally felt as a load which burdens ous that the intellect and the emotions have a the spirit of the poetess, and darkens her views close and inseparable alliance. In a very few of life. Thoughtful to a degree beyond what is instances, the intellect may be said to preponder- necessary for the healthy exercise of the poetic ate, but in general it is not only colored, but faculty, and often gloomy from a too quick sense highly colored by the feelings; so much so as of the ills of life- or rather an exaggeration of either to be passionate or deeply pathetic. Hence them— Mrs. Browning is by no means a hopewe find that for the most part women, or men in ful writer. Her poetry abounds with those sowhom a delicacy of sentiment akin to that which lemn communings with her own heart, and those distinguishes the more cultivated of the female broodings in the shadows of existence which give sex, have given us the best specimens of what is the mind a melancholy and often an untruthful called the poetry of the affections. In the higher ciently indicative of this, and the very titles of her tone. Her themes are, for the most part, suffiwalks of poetry-such as the dramatic-few women have won a reputation. Their range is lyrical poems, where they are not obscurely fannaturally restricted; for however powerful the ciful, are in keeping with the spirit which perimagination may be, the emotions are still more vades them. Thus we have The Cry of the Hupowerful, and what is simply touching, is the pro-man, The Soul's Travail. The Cry of the Children duct of the female mind in most cases, rather than what is bold, stern, and strong.

gen

and similar titles. In seeking to make a selec tion from her poetry, we find that the only choice is between these and another set in which the chord of sorrow is a little more lightly touched. We take the following verses from one of two pieces of the latter kind, respectively called Crowned and Wedded and Crowned and Buried — the one suggested by the accession and marriage of our youthful queen, and the other by the intombment of Napoleon:

Napoleon! Nations, while they cursed that name,
Its sound, as of a trumpet on before,
Shook at their curses; and while others bore
Brass-fronted legions justified its fame
And dying men, on trampled battle sods
Near their last silence, uttered it for God's.

*

*

Among the living female writers of poetry,
there is not one to whom we could point as an
exception to this general rule, in the sense in
which Joanna Baillie was so, unless it is Mrs.
Barrett Browning. In her case the feelings, or
at least that narrower range of them which we
have called the affections, come into play com-
paratively seldom. In the several volumes she
has published, we find nothing akin to the
tleness and sweetly pathetic tone of the poetry of
Mrs. Hemans, and nearly as little of the passionate
impetuosity which characterized that of L. E. L.
Except in one or two instances, there is no ap-
proximation to the style of any one of our mo-
dern British poets - nothing which indicates the
influence of a masculine mind sufficiently strong
to overcome, or give, as it were, a bias to the na-
tural expression of feminine emotions and expe-
riences. There is great original vigor to be
found in much of Mrs. Browning's poetry, senti-
ment considerably different from that which we
usually receive from her sex, and a certain wild-
ness in her fancies not easily accounted for on the
ordinary principles which guide us in judging
of any literary effort. We do not, indeed, need
to be told that she has a large store of acquired
knowledge, for that is obvious in almost all her
writings, much more so than her experience of
ordinary life; but we do need to know that seve-
ral of Mrs. Browning's early years were spent in
a sick-chamber with the Greek poets for her
chief companions, before we can fully estimate
the value of her poetry as the expression of na-
tural feelings, or thoroughly appreciate its artis-
tic structure. Shut out, or more properly speak- *
ing, shut in from that communion with persons A little urna little dust inside

That name consumed the silence of the snows
In Alpine keeping, holy and cloud-hid,
The mimic eagles dared, what Nature's did,
And over-rushed her mountainous repose
In search of eyries: and the Egyptian river
Mingled the same word with its grand-"For

ever."

*

O wild St. Helen! very still she kept him,
With a green willow from his pyramid,
Which stirred a little if the low wind did,
A little more if pilgrims overwept him,
Disparting the lithe boughs to see the clay
Which seemed to cover his for judgment-day.

Nay, not so long!-France kept her old affection,
As deeply as the sepulchre the corse,
To a new angel of the resurrection
Until, dilated by such love's remorse,
She cried: "Behold thou England! I would have
The dead whereof thou wottest from that grave."

of her own sex and age which would have tend-Which once outbalanced the large earth, albeit