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my information, sallied forth and made their way very quietly to the root-house, where they had ample opportunity to verify all that I had said.

The girls had kindled a small fire, which they could do with impunity so far from the house, and on such a dark night; a tin pot hung over this fire; they cut crusts of bread into it, and then shred in slices of turnip, onion, cucumber, and carrot, they then scooped their raw turnips quite hollow, and with them ladled out and devoured the unsavoury mess. Their appearance of poverty and wretchedness was so touching, that my father had not the heart to dislodge these houseless trespassers, but saw them put out their fire, and rake dead leaves over the ashes, and then retire into the root-house, lock the door, and put out the candle.

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They shall sleep in peace this one night longer," he said to my grandfather, as they retired-for from some of their random talk which he had overheard, it was evident that they had frequented the place at night for nearly a month.

by way of breakfast.

The next morning, while it was still dark, he walked down to the place, and again saw the light inside: the poor vagrants did not dare to kindle another fire, and were eating raw carrots Presently the door was opened, and my father walked up and confronted the woman. She stood as if petrified, but neither spoke nor attempted to get away. "Do you know me?" he enquired steadily.

"Yes;" said the woman, as boldly as himself, “and I reckon them told me a lie that said you was a good-hearted gentleman."

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'Why do you reckon so?" enquired my father. "If you think I feel no pity for your misery and want, though you have broken the laws of God and man, you are mistaken.”

"It was the misery and want that made me do it," said the woman, in a choking voice, "I haven't a friend in the worldnot one; nor a roof to cover me, nor a place big enough anywhere for my foot to stand on." As she spoke, she tried to make her tattered cloak fill the doorway.

"I have seen your two daughters," said my father, "it is useless your trying to conceal them, and I heard you say last night, that you had slept here for a month past.”

"It's no good denying it," repeated the woman, wringing her hands, "it was the misery and want that made me do it, but oh, good gentleman, if you would but consider to forgive me this once."

"What if I would? would you and your daughters try to earn an honest livelihood?"

"I'm always trying;" sobbed the woman, "and I'm nearly starved. I can't get enough to eat either with honest or dishonest ways." The heart-broken voice in which she said this, quite shocked my father.

"But you can work ?" he proceeded, "and the girls can work ?"

"Work!" repeated the woman; there ai'nt no work to get, or folks won't give it to such as we."

"How do you live, then ?"

"We tramp the country, and sell cottons and boot-laces; for three weeks afore we came here, we slept under haystacks."

"If I were willing to give you a chance of doing better-if I could trust you this once, and help you to some work and a lodging"

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"O sir, O good gentleman, I do assure you we'd bless you for ever; anything, sir, for honest victuals and a shelter."

This conversation and a good deal more, which I have forgotten, my father repeated that morning at breakfast, and then followed a long discussion about these poor creatures, their misery, the theft they had committed, and what was to be done for them or with them. At length the matter ended by some work being found in the fields; and having made many promises of amendment, they went to it, my father consenting to overlook the past, and give them a chance of retrieving their characters.

But, my dear readers of the Youths' Magazine, what a pity it is that the small size of your periodical, and the desire on your part for variety, makes it needful that this tale should suddenly break off for the present, just as you have got into the heart of it. The food for your minds must be minced up very small, which cannot be helped. Therefore if you have any curiosity to know what became of my heroine, wait till next month, and you shall be told by your faithful friend

ORRIS.

LOUIS NAPOLEON.

I had scarcely reached the entrance-door of the Invalides, when I perceived by a movement among the veterans who were not on duty-for those in line stood as erect and as firm as they could, that the object of their expectation was in view. Instead, however, of driving up to the Invalides, Prince Louis Napoleon descended from his carriage at the iron-gates, and I soon saw him, followed by a numerous staff advancing on foot along the road which traverses the garden, and which is about one hundred and sixty yards in length. As he approached me, I, of course, took off my hat, and without presuming to bowmany years ago, when he was in England, I had been slightly acquainted with him-I was standing uncovered with it in my hand, when, to my surprise, he was pleased to acknowledge me, with so much apparent good will and kindness, of which I had afterwards repeated proofs, that as soon as he passed, I quietly slipped among his staff, and with his procession, slowly marched on, I hardly knew were. After several turns and twists, of which there remains in my mind but a confused dreamy sort of recollection, I found myself walking up the aisle of a chapel, sixty feet high, the floor of which, two hundred and ten feet long, was covered with black cloth, between two rows of soldiers wearing their caps, and holding in their hands halberds, bearing a small tricolor-flag surmounted by crape.

The prince, surrounded by the principal officers, took up his position on the left of the altar. Immediately above him, suspended from the roof was the great parasol of the Emperor of Morocco. For about two or three minutes he stood-and of course everybody else stood-perfectly upright. He appeared wrapt in thought, until, suddenly awakening from his meditations, he slightly bowed and sat down. In a few seconds, those immediately about him sat down too, and then, like a third echo, a rustle was heard, caused by everybody else sitting down.

"Portez vos armes !" exclaimed in a firm strong voice, the officer commanding the veterans, standing with their cocked hats à la Napoleon. The muffled drums rolled. The priests, congregated in a small square space, half way up the church, now began the service of High Mass, which, assisted by an organ, and also by a band, they performed with admirable

voices and great effect. On the rails of the altar there hung a great round wreath of immortelles, a foot and a half in diameter.

The countenance of Prince Louis Napoleon throughout the whole ceremony, wore that mild, pensive expression, for which it is remarkable. As soon as the solemn requiem was over, he rose, and followed by his attendants, slowly walked down the aisle, and then, quitting the chapel, proceeded into the great court, three hundred and fifteen feet long by one hundred and ninety two broad, called the Cour d'Honneur, in which I found assembled for review the whole of the veterans of the establishment, capable of standing in the ranks, in which they were already arranged. Above them, on the outside of the south side of the quadrangle, at the height of the second story, there stood, with folded arms, with a cocked-hat, placed crossways on his head, and with two or three circular wreaths of yellow "immortelles," at his feet, a bronze-coloured colossal statue of Napoleon, twelve feet high, a fac-simile in plaster of that on the summit of the Place de Vendôme. At any time it would have been to me a great enjoyment to witness this assemblage, but there was one circumstance which rendered it particularly interesting. On the anniversary of the death of Napoleon, the wreck of the great army who followed him with reckless enthusiasm wherever he went, claim the privilege of appearing in the review which follows the requiem I had just witnessed, in the old fashioned, eccentric, and almost grotesque uniforms in which they had fought and been wounded.

As Prince Louis Napoleon marched down the ranks of bright, intelligent, hazel eyes, that as he approached them, appeared to be re-animated for the moment, with pristine vigour; he occasionally stopped before any veteran, whose wounds, appearance, or history, made him particularly worthy of attention, and spoke to him. While he was so engaged, the contrast between his easy, pliant manner, and the straight, stiff, upright attitude of the veteran, of whose head nothing but the thin lips were seen to move, was very remarkable.

As soon as Prince Louis Napoleon had finished his inspection, accompanied by his suite, he walked in procession through the garden to the iron entrance, where were assembled a large crowd, and, amid loud cheers of "Vive Napoleon!" he entered his carriage, and drove off.-Faggot of French Sticks.

DR. DODDRIDGE AND HIS DOG.

Dr. Doddridge used to relate the following anecdote. A little girl had just been playing with a dog, and nursing it on her lap, as she sat on the old-fashioned window-seat. “And do you know," she gravely asked, "who made you?" A look of blank wonder from the questioned animal was, of course, all that followed.

"Shame on you!" proceeded the young interrogator, with grave reproof-"you, Dr. Doddridge's dog, and not know who made you?"

"If," said the Doctor, on relating this story, 66 so much is expected from my dog, what may be expected from my students."-Stoughton.

COLONEL GARDINER.

Amongst the visitors at Dr. Doddridge's house,—at first most formidable to the children, but by and by the most revered of all, was a Scotch cavalry officer. With his Hessian boots and their tremendous spurs, sustaining the grandeur of his scarlet coat and powdered queue, there was something to youthful imagination very awful in the tall and stately hussar; and that awe was nowise abated when they got courage to look on his high forehead, with overhung grey eyes and weather-beaten cheeks, and when they marked his fine and dauntless air. And then it was terrible to think how many battles he had fought, and how in one of them a bullet had gone quite through his neck, and he had lain a whole night among the slain. But there was a deeper mystery still. He had been a very bad man once; and now he was very good; and he had seen a vision; and altogether with his strong Scotch voice, and his sword, and his wonderful story, the most solemn visitant was this grave and lofty soldier. But they saw how their father loved him, and how he loved their father. As he sat so erect in the square corner seat of the chapel, they could notice how his stern look would soften, and how his firm lip would quiver, and how a happy tear would roll down his deep lined face; and they heard him as he sang so joyfully the closing hymn, and they came to feel that the colonel must indeed be very good.

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