CHAPTER III.

THE FАСТ.

It was with no external show of gratification that the Captain heard of
the sudden exit which Harry Halton, Esq., had made from his dwelling;
but, nevertheless, he inwardly rejoiced at that event.
"These garden
butterflies," said he, "find no roses to feast on in the swamps of poverty.
One Charlie Skyraker is worth a thousand of such things!" This was
spoken as if in a fit of absence, and to himself, although in the presence
of his daughter, and loud enough for her to hear. Within the course
of a fortnight they were living in lodgings, on the second-floor of a house
facing the river, not far from where they had lived when Bertie's mother
was alive, and when their days passed so tranquilly and happily. Here
they took up their abode, Captain Tom bearing up under his reverse of
fortune wonderfully, and Bertie doing what she could to comfort, support,
and cheer him. For some time she expected a visit from Harry
Halton, Esq.; but he did not come, although he knew where she now
lived, and although he had promised, one day that she met him, with
warm protestations of enduring affection, that he would call. But
Bertie's eyes began to open, as her heart began to doubt his sincerity.
Day after day passed, but she never heard the well-remembered footsteps
of Harry Halton upon her stair. At length she came to the conclusion
that he was hollow and false; that his heart was base; that her father
had read him better than she had done; and taking the ring which he
had given her from her finger, she sent it back, enclosed with the following
lines:-

"Passions are likened best to floods and streams;
The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb ;
So, when affections yield discourse, it seems
The bottom is but shallow whence they come.
They that are rich in words, must needs discover
They are but poor in that which makes a lover."

Mr. Halton put the ring on his own little finger, and her lines in the fire; whilst Bertie thought no more of him but with the utmost contempt.

This last short voyage was the only one from which Charlie had ever returned that he had not called at once upon Bertie; but now that she had changed her abode, he was the first to visit her, and to show her, that whatever might be the vicissitudes which had fallen upon her father's fortunes,

he was still the manly, faithful, and firm friend he had always been. He called on her now very frequently; was often invited by the Captain "to have a yarn," and as his attentions to Bertie continued to be of the most affectionate kind, the liking which she had formerly cherished for him soon kindled into love. No longer admitted amongst the throng of the devotees of fashion, she soon learned to estimate, at its proper value, the possession of a heart like Charles's, and forgot the mate in the man. Accordingly, their affection for each other grew warmer and warmer, until she, at last, gave him her hand as he had now her heart, without dissimulation, flattery, or falsehood. Their marriage was celebrated without noise or ostentation, in the morning of a fine day; and in the same evening the Captain proposed their first walk, and a treat of strawberries and cream, in a neighbouring fruit garden. To this the young couple had no objection. Accordingly, they set out to regale and enjoy themselves; and the Captain was much more than usually lively and light-hearted. As they had two or three old staunch friends with them, he took the lead, followed by Bertie and her spouse, whose white waistcoat and primrose kid gloves contrasted very strikingly with his sun-burnt face and brown hands. On their way to the gardens they had to pass through the fashionable square in which the elegant house of the Captain stood, and where Bertie, in her grander days, received the attentions of Harry Halton, Esq. They did not expect the Captain would have taken them by that direction, but he had done so; and he now paused before its door. There was a wonderful stir within its walls, and evident festive preparations were going on.

"I verily believe they're having a party here," observed the Captain, with a smile: "had we been as we were, we might have been invited; but

"Never mind, father; we are happier now than we were then; and, I am sure-but where are you going?"

The Captain had began to ascend the flight of steps which led to the front door.

"To see who they are that are making so merry," replied the Captain, with great gravity, inviting them, at the same time, to "Come along!"

He has drank too many glasses of wine to our health and happiness, surmised Charlie; but then he immediately recollected that he never saw the Captain the worse for liquor in his life.

"Come along with you!" repeated the Captain, more peremptorily. "What are you standing there for, as if your noses were stuck fast in the wind's eye? There are some people here that we know."

At that instant the door opened, and discovered, standing in the hall, the old servants, smiling and curtseying a happy welcome to the newly-married couple.

When they entered the well-known parlour, everything was found just as Bertie had left it; but she was quite at a loss to divine the meaning of the gay scene which she saw was about to take place in the old fashionable house, and asked her father in a whisper.

"Meaning!” cried he, with his face radiant with joy-" Why it means, Bertie, that I am not ruined; that I never was ruined; and that what I did was all a feint, to test the honesty and truth of your lover, Hairy Halter. Ha ha ha! Catch the Captain asleep in a fog, Mr. Skyraker. That fellow wanted to marry the money of my poor daughter, and did not value either her heart or her head!-no; not a Jew's eye. So I thought I would see what he was made of, and only feigned the ruin he believed to be true, when he put his ship about, and set sail for some other port. I have neither seen nor heard of him since; and I dare say Bertie is now glad enough that she got rid of him so easily." "That I am, father," said Bertie. "But how about the ship? Are you owner of her still ?"

"In course I am; I only feigned that she had been sold to another owner; and that I was still to command her, out of respect for my character and conduct." Then looking at Charlie, he said, "Ah, Mr. Skyraker, there is nothing in this world like character and conduct: these have been my handmaids all my life, and you see what they've brought me to; but now that I have told you of the feint, I now tell you the fact. D'ye see what I mean?"

"No; not exactly."

"Why, that I am not ruined! And so now to be merry

He led the way to the adjoining room, where were assembled a party of old friends, with whom they had been acquainted before the brains of Bertie had been a little turned by the gaieties of the fashionable world; and she, herself, could not help remarking what a wonderful difference there is between the friendship that is real and that which is assumed. The same, or a similar distinction, she had already felt, had revealed itself in regard to love; that of Charlie having proved itself warm, honest, and true; whilst that of Harry had proved quite the opposite. There was, however, no time at present to indulge in these reflections; but they entered her mind when she was in her tiringroom, changing her dress, to join the party whom her good and kind father had assembled to do her honour on this occasion.

"Bertie, we are waiting for you!" sounded the voice of the Captain up the stairs.

"I am coming"" And, in a few moments, she was in the midst of the company, when mirth, music, and dancing became the order of the evening within the walls of their fashionable dwelling.

VOL. II.

TO DORA.

FAREWELL, Dora! kindest, fairest,
Dearest of thy gentle sex;
Since thy love another sharest,
May he ne'er thy bosom vex!
Fate has made me love in blindness,
Made me shed for you the tear,
Made me feel its deep unkindness,
Parting us for ever here.

Charming creature! gentlest, dearest,
May your path be one of peace!
Still my heart shall claim thee nearest,
Till its latest throb shall cease.
Whate'er my faults, yet there's virtue
Dwelling in my bosom's core;

Thinking of you cannot hurt you,

Though we're doomed to meet no more.

In love's sadness, tears are starting
From the fountains of mine eyes;
And each liquid pearl, at parting,
Shines with blissful memories!
Fare-thee-well, then, Dora, dearest !

None knows what I feel for thee;
Though thy heart another sharest,
Still you will remember me.

ORIGIN OF THE SWING.

WHEN swings first into fashion came,

Historians do not tell;

But he who did invent the same,

Invented very well;

And yet, mayhap, 'twas not a He

Who did invent the thing; More probably it was a She Who first put up a swing.

Our reason for suspecting this,
Here, briefly, we'll relate;
And every mother, maid, or miss

Will please mind what we state;
And first, let us observe, the knee
Of Eve was rocked for Cain,
Beneath a widely-spreading tree,
Upon an ample plain.

In rocking thus did gentle Eve

First make the swinging motion; And, by-and-by, we must believe

She'd gain from it the notion Of swing and cradle, as each nap

Cain took increased his weight, Until he'd break her leafy lapHe grew at such a rate.

Now he was not a placid child,
At least, so we opine;

But restless, noisy, stubborn, wild,
As were his father's kine

When broken loose, and free to rove

O'er the far-stretching plain;

Nor did he much respect the love
That would his will restrain.