THE LOST CHILDREN.

BY FREDERICK TYRRELL, ESQ.

It was near the close of a fine summer's day when I first entered the little village of Mouzon, on the confines of the forest of Ardennes; that renowned spot of ancient chivalry. Scarcely had I got within sight of its little white cottages, when I was accosted by a young peasant, who, apologising for his intrusion, asked me if I had seen two little children on my way. No, my friend, I have not,' said I. He shook his head, and with a look of despondency, said --more to himself than to me, "I fear the Bohemians have them." The strangeness of this remark led me to ask its meaning.

"Why," replied the peasant, "there has been a gang of vagabond Bohemians lurking about the neighbourhood for this week past, and there is no doubt they have the poor little creatures. But by the blessed virgin if they have gone this road, I'll meet them." Without another word, he darted like a shot towards the forest, and I lost sight of him in an instant. I need not say I had heard enough to raise my curiosity to learn more.

I proceeded onwards, and entering the village, the first words that met my ears were " poor little dears, it is a sad affair, indeed." It now appeared very clearly to me that two children were missing; but I could not comprehend what the peasant meant when he said "he feared the Bohemenians had them." To satisfy my curiosity, I therefore approached the woman, whose words I had just heard, and appearing to know more than I actually did, I asked her if any trace had been discovered of the children. No, sir, it's a sad affair, indeed," said she. "Pray, good woman, is there any suspicion of their having been decoyed away?" Suspicion, sir? is there any doubt but that the wretches of Bohemians have them with their fortune-telling and nonsense, deluding a pack of silly boys and girls who put faith in their impious prognostics, just as if the Almighty gave the power of divination to such wandering vagabonds as those. Francis the First expelled them the country once; I wish we had a Francis to root them out now: not to let them go about deluding the credulous, and robbing the honest."

I had now heard enough to know that by Bohemians they meant gypsies, and I then recollected having passed a of them some miles off.

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"And whose children have they taken?" said I. "Why, bonest Jacques Blaissot's, to be sure.. If you know any thing of them you had better be looking after their recovery, than gossiping here."

Truly, good woman, you are a philosopher, thought I, as she hobbled away on her crutch; for she was both lame and old.

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It now struck me as very likely that the Bohemians had got the children, and I instantly repaired to the first ing saw, and ordered a horse immediately. I told the landlady the purpose I wanted it for, and proposed that some others] should accompany me; but I found that scarce a man was left in the village; such was the interest created by the lost children. I therefore mounted my horse, and proceeded alone at a quick pace, in retracing the path I had come hoping at least to meet with the peasant I had first met.ed

My horse went at a good pace, and day was fast declining, when I found myself in a by-path without an outlet. I had mistaken the road. I was by this time several miles from any habitation, and being surrounded by an immense forest, began to fear being benighted in it. I dismounted, and led my horse back the road he had come, as I imagined;} but judge my surprise, when I found myself again approaching the path without an outlet. I confess I began to feel some unpleasant sensations on the prospect of my night's lodging; and holding my horse's reins, I stood some minutes considering how I should act, when my ears were arrested by the sobbing, as of some one in distress. I listened, but not a voice was to be heard; presently the sobbing was repeated, and I approached the spot whence it came. Judge my pleasure and my surprise, when, on turna corner, I saw before me two of the sweetest little children I ever beheld. The boy was sitting down crying most piteously; his head was dropt on his lap between his hanus and he appeared as if his little heart was breaking. A girl, nearly his own age, coarsely but cleanly attired, was standing by his side. Her hands were joined before her, and her countenence bespoke a thoughtful resignation to her