Go roar and whistle now-but in a night But time flies fast to the wretched.-Eh! you think the reverse, good Reader, do you?-Then lie a night watching for the morn to dawn that will bring you joy or wretchedness-marriage or death-and mark which wings itself the speediest out of being. Thus, ere the veteran had scarce begun to recover his senses, he found himself at the threshold of his cottage. That night at least there was an ample meal for all within those walls that had the power of partaking of it. The following morning brought numerous messages and messengers from the Castle," in hopes of recovering the lost bijou. Entreaties first, then threats, were had recourse to; but each in turn were met by a steady and firm avowal of innocence by the owner of the cottage. In compassion to the veteran, he was not at once handed over to the civil power; but in a few days afterwards he received a letter from the Horse Guards, to whom the matter had been fully communicated, and the half-pay of the old man's rank, upon which he had retired, was imdiately suspended, leaving him a beggar, and powerless in the world! True, he might have claimed the alternative of a Court-martial; but were not all the circumstances of the case arrayed against him-bearing on their face a moral certainty of conviction, in spite of his honour or his oath. Nothing was now left him but starvation or the workhouse, and he chose the latter. In a huge whitewashed building in the nearest town he found himself separated for the first time in life from his only solace in the world— his wife and children!-from her who had shared his troubles as a private soldier, and his honour as an officer. Those whom God had joined together, man at last had put asunder. Sharp and agonising was the anguish at first; but ere a week had elapsed, another blow more stunning than this was doomed to descend upon the martyr's head. He heard the church-bell tolling, and saw-but at a distance-all that was mortal of his two darling daughters borne from out that whitewashed world of sorrow to the grave! A settled melancholy, bordering on idiotcy, now came over the old man's spirits. His daily task was gone through mechanically; but his wife still lived, and he might yet one day meet her again alive, and that was indeed a consolation in his sorrow; but, alas! how faint even that poor ray of hope! Faint-faint indeed-poor Outcast! You have looked your last, and breathed your last farewell, ere you entered within the walls that now enclose you! In justice to the incomparable author of the "Hunchback," I must here be allowed to state that I quote entirely from memory, and consequently, I have no doubt have half murdered, at least, the original lines, the last time I read them being when selected to play the part of Julia, having then no whiskers, and being favoured with rather a girlish look, even for an Ensign. The intelligence of his wife's death was soon after communicated to him, accompanied by a permission for him to have access to all that remained of one once dearer to him than life itself, and the further boon was conceded of following her to her long last home. How willingly would he have availed himself of this kindness!—but as the first boom of the bell tolled out, he fell back insensible, and so remained till all was over. His son was now all that was left to him, and he had been bound as apprentice in a town several miles distant. Yet at some wakeful moment of the night would a thrilling sense of his desolation come over him, and involuntarily was breathed the prayer that the wind might be tempered to the shorn lamb; but like all soldiers he was a strict fatalist, and rather bowed in obedience to the rod, than strived to relieve his sufferings by self-energy or by prayer. Days, weeks, months, a year had elapsed, and his routine of life remained unaltered and unvaried. Nothing seemed to have any effect on him, save when a casual visitor remarked, in an undertone (but what tone is too soft for sensitive ears to comprehend?), "That is the old officer who stole the snuff-box at the Castle." But what most astonished every one was, that no trace of the box had been, or could be, discovered. It was not found concealed in the old man's cottage, neither buried in his garden, for even that had been turned up in hopes of recovering the lost treasure,-neither had it been pawned in the town. A heavy rolling sound breaks on the dreamer's ears as he starts at midnight from his thin-clad stretcher, and feels the cold damp walls of his tiny cell around him! He had been dreaming happily.-He dreamt that an angel-it was like his dear lost wife, but yet it was not her-had brought the lost jewel to his bedside-had told him it was sent from Heaven to restore him to his own again, who were all at home awaiting his return; and that his trial on Earth was over. Louder and louder swelled the roar without! "Fire!" "Fire!" "Fire!" roared a thousand voices in chorus!" A fire at the Castle!" and the rolling of the engines and the clashing tread of the horses succeeded one another in rapid succession. At length nature was exhausted, and he sunk once more to sleep until the morning. ? A pauper would What means that thundering knocking at the gate? A not knock so loud. Even the old Adjutant looked up from his daily task, but soon looked down again as he saw the hated livery of the Castle standing at the portal! He heard his name pronounced, and the pallor of death fell over his brow and cheek. In another minute he found himself ushered into the governor's room, and confronted face to face with the noble giver of the banquet at which his misery had begun. He had scarce time to gaze steadfastly on the face of his visitor, ere the latter seized him by the hand; but before a word could be uttered, a flood of tears-tears of repentance for a bitter and irreparable injury done to an innocent man, and coming from the noble and contrite breast of a soldier, broke from the long pent-up channels of the General's heart, and he wept aloud on the old man's shoulder. So totally was he overcome, that it was with the greatest difficulty that he prevented the official authorities from introducing immediate medical assistance, and like a flash of lightning through the gloom of night, the pauper's dream flashed o'er his recollection. "To-morrow!-to-morrow!-come to the Castle-at any hour-but come. I am ill! I must go now," exclaimed the General, and thrusting a purse full of notes and gold into the wonder-stricken old man's hand, he allowed his valet to lead him to his carriage. There had indeed been a fire at the castle, which being simply occasioned by the overheating of the flues, had done no material injury; but the first place that was attended to was the plate-closet; and there, in a cupboard high above the others, where the usual plate for household purposes was kept, was discovered THE GOLD SNUFF-BOX. It had no doubt been removed from the table by one of the servants, who, oblivious of the circumstance, or fearing after all that had occurred to produce it, had placed it where it had so long remained unseen. The following morning broke again bright and joyously, as if in welcome of the scene it was to witness. The old soldier had at once been discharged at the departure of the general, and was soon provided with comfortable lodgings in the town. His first thought was to seek his boy; but the news quickly reached him, that, tired of the monotonous life his son was obliged to lead as an apprentice, he had gone on board her Majesty's ship — at Plymouth; so he was left alone and childless in the world. That the snuff-box had been found ran like wild-fire through the place. and had reached the old man's ears before he had left the workhouse; therefore why need he fear to meet the inmates of the Castle? In justice to himself, moreover, although he would rather have avoided the interview, he made up his mind to go, and again setting out on foot, he traversed the same path that he had passed just eighteen months ago, when the storm arose around him. He had scarcely knocked at the Castle ere the doors were thrown open, and every servant seemed to vie in being most attentive to the lately reputed criminal. He was at once ushered into the dining-room, where, seated round the table as he had seen them on that memorable day, were the self-same guests that then surrounded the board, and had since concurred in his condemnation. His place alone was changed, and now a chair was placed for him by the side of his host, at the head of the table; but the veteran refused to take advantage of it, remaining erect, and gazing with a fixed, halfvacant stare on the scene before him, as if it were all a dream. The General, however, as soon as he recovered his self-possession-for he saw-and deeply felt-what a change was wrought in the old man's appearance broke the subject, by saying, "Deep, irreparable, and undeserved, as is the injury that has been inflicted on you, and for which no amends on my part can atone, you must allow that in a great measure you have been the cause of it, by not at the time submitting to the ordeal which every one else present readily underwent. Had I requested to search you alone, you might justly have felt indignant; but the measure was not even proposed by me, but by one higher in rank, both military and noble, to myself; and you would have proved as innocent as he or I, without having entailed on me the lasting misery of remembering that I have inflicted such a punishment on an innocent man as you have undergone-a recollection that will haunt me on my death-bed-and on yourself, the anguish of the past." "Sire!" returned the veteran, but his voice faltered audibly, "I did not take the snuff-box, as you and all around are now fully aware, but nevertheless I was A THIEF." "Yes, God forgive me! and I trust he has, as I believe you all will. In the midst of the dinner, when the mirth was at the highest, and when every one's attention seemed to be engaged, I took advantage of the moment to slip a part of the contents of my plate between some bread beside me, and when no eyes were upon me, I secreted it in my pocket. None of my family nor myself had tasted meat for days, aye, long days past! and I had more that day before me than would have saved my darling children from the grave! I was a thief! My whole pittance had for months been swallowed up by the illness of my family, and what was given to me, I had secretly purloined for them. My days on earth are short. I care not to confess all. My gray hairs have come in sorrow to the grave, and little recks it what befalls me now. This is the reason I stole away like a thief rather than be searched, and dearly have I paid the penalty attending THE PERILS OF THE POOR." The old man ceased;-but the sobs that burst forth around told how deeply his tale had entered the hearts of his hearers. Spontaneously the whole host arose, and thronged around him. Kind words-noble promises-sweet condolences-from the noble, the brave, the fair, were showered on the veteran's head, but, alas!—like a soft song in the tempest, they fell unheard-unheeded. A cottage on the estate, fitted with every luxury, was urged on his acceptance-the arrears of pay made up-all that wealth could offer, or contrition devise, was placed at his disposal-but it came too late! The silver chord was loosed, and the golden bowl was broken!—aye, shattered past redemption ! The old church trees were budding forth in spring, and glad birds carolled on their new-leaved branches, and a crowd had gathered round the church-yard gate, dressed in their best habiliments. HUSH 'tis the Old Man's Funeral! Toll on! thou mournful Herald to Eternity!-thou hast carried anguish to his soul ere this-but now he hears thee not! His old sword rests upon the coffin-lid.—Ah!-bear him gently to his grave, in life so roughly handled! The bell has ceased--the earth is closed again-the tearful crowd has gone. Peace! peace to him who sleeps beneath the turf! His character re-established among men,-he has gone to meet his GOD! Feb.-VOL. LXXXV. NO. CCCXXXVIII. THE BRASS-BOUND BOX. A CORNISH LEGEND. BY FATHER POODLES, P. P. HOW THE LITTLE OLD MAN INTRODUCED HIMSELF. I was sitting in my study the other evening, after a long stroll "by the sad sea-waves." By-the-bye, I ought to say that I am "down west,' in the land of legends, ghost-stories, of mines, and fisheries, and old wives' tales-Cornwall. I was sitting, as I said before, in my study, having just finished the last article in the last number of .. Why," said I to myself, "why shouldn't I write some of the many legends which I daily hear? why shouldn't I enlighten the readers of the New Monthly, as well as any body else? why shouldn't I, as the fat boy in 'Pickwick' observes, make yer flesh creep.' I will,” said I, giving the fire a vigorous poke. "I'll write to Colburn." "No, you won't," said a voice. I started, looked about; not a soul could I see. The cannel coal flashed gaily up, and lighted all the room. No, no one was there. "I will," said I. "No, you won't," said the voice. There could be no mistake this time; it wasn't a man's voice, it wasn't a child's voice. It was a little, strong voice, and seemed to come from the fire-place. I looked about, but in vain. "Who are you?-where are you?" said I, looking about. "Ah, I see you!" "No, you don't," said the voice. "Where are you?" repeated I. "Here," said the voice; "don't you see me now?" ture. I put my hand to my eyes to shade them from the glare of the fire, and espied, on one of the brass knobs of the fender, a queer, little creaI thought at once of the little fellow in the gray coat, but this individual had no such thing. I then thought of L'Homme Rouge of Napoleon, but I could trace no resemblance. My little unknown was attired in a quaint kind of fisherman's dress, something like what one sees in old paintings: a little, rough, blue jacket of long dimensions; breeches of most capacious size, blue stockings, shoes with buckles, and a highcrowned hat; and with a very diminutive pipe in his mouth, which the old fellow seemed to enjoy with much relish: but, although the smoke was "gracefully curling," I could not perceive any odour of tobacco. "Ah!" said he, with a malicious grin, "you see me now." Then he gave himself a twirl on the knob: "So, you're going to write to Colburn, eh?" another twirl on the knob. "And why not?" said I, in no very good humour at the fellow's impertinence (I should have, as most people would have done, ran away upon seeing this strange little fellow, but having been thoroughly introduced to many of his brethren by the kindness of Mr. Lover, and other persons equally polite, I began to look upon them as visitors very likely to be met with, and was, therefore, not at all surprised at beholding my |