sition? or why trouble you with my complaints? I have already taken up too much of your valuable time?" Then he added, as he rose from his chair to depart, "I thank you very heartily for your kindness, which, in all times to come, shall be the most delightful of my remembrances; and if it please you to give me my papers, I would gratefully take my leave."

Ah, that will I, with all true earnestness," exclaimed the other, as he immediately raised the wine to his lips.

"And I most heartily wish, as all England must wish, that your life be long preserved to delight and enrich this island with your right excellent labors."

"We part not thus," said Master Shakspeare, quickly, as he rose from his seat, and taking hold of Master Francis his shoulder, did affectionately push him back into his chair; then sitting carelessly on the edge of the table adjoining, with "Thank you, worthy Master Francis, one hand of his visiter kindly pressed in thank you,' said his host, shaking his his own, and with a most benevolently companion cordially by the hand; it is smiling countenance he proceeded. "We gratifying to be praised at all, but to be part not thus. Sit you down, Master praised by those who can appreciate, is Francis-sit you down: and let not the the most exquisite of flattery. And now modesty of your disposition be a stum-let me pledge you to our better acquaintbling-block to the advancement of your ance," added he, as he poured out a fortunes. The world hath not used you brimming cup for himself, "and may well, or I mistake countenances hugely. success attend you equal to your deserts Let me try to make amends for the un--which be of no common order." kindness of others. I have both the inclination and the power to serve; and it seemeth to me that I should do myself credit by any service I could render. Let me be your friend, Master Francis. I as- Not a whit, man, not a whit," resure you, on the honor of a Christian gen-plied his host, as he finished his draught. tleman, and an humble follower of the Muses, that you will do me a great wrong if you allow me not the satisfaction of befriending you."

"You are too liberal in your commendation-indeed you are," observed the youth, as a slight blush appeared upon his countenance.

There can be no harm in praising a modest man; for if the desert be not equal to the praise, he will not rest till he make it so. But your cup is empty."

Nay, good Master Shakspeare," exclaimed the other, as he noticed his host refilling the cup-"if it please you, no

Indeed, Master Shakspeare, you are too good," exclaimed his visiter, warmly returning the pressure of the hand he had received. "I know not what to say-Imore.' lack words-I am quite overpowered."

"What a wittol am I, and one shamefully neglectful of the duties of hospitality!" said Master Shakspeare, suddenly, as he sprung from the table and, proceeding to a cupboard in a recess of the chamber, did presently return, bringing a flask and two drinking-horns.

"

I would you would excuse me, worthy Master Shakspeare," said the youth, modestly, as soon as he observed the movement of his host.

"But it does not please me, Master Francis," said his companion, jocosely.

"I am not used to drinking of wine of a morning, and it may chance get in my head."

"No vessel can be the worse for containing good wine, Master Francis. So you must e'en drink another cup."

"I thank you, but I would rather not," said Master Francis, falteringly, as the vessel was handed to him.

66

"What, hesitate to drink the queen's "Excuse me no excuses," replied the health?" exclaimed Master Shakspeare other, with a smile, as he made room on in seeming astonishment. 'Why, how the little table, and poured out the wine now? Surely loyalty hath gone out of into the vessels. "What! shall it be the land, if the guest of one of her majessaid that Will Shakspeare denied a broth-ty's poor players refuse to join him in er poet a draught of the fountain from drinking the health of Queen Elizabeth." which he hath so often drawn inspiration? Tell it not at the Mermaid. A cup of this excellent sherris will warm both our hearts."

"I thought not of that," remarked the other, quietly taking the wine, "I will join you gladly." Thereupon, with much sincerity of heart, these two did drink to

"It is uncertain," responded Master Francis more seriously. My mother's was a private marriage with a gentleman much above her in station, and as he said it would injure him in the estimation of his family if his union became known, she kept his quality a secret from all who knew her. He went to the wars a short time before she gave birth to me, and has never since been heard of; and my poor mother died in childbed, without leaving any other memorial of her husband than this miniature, which I always carry about with me."

Master Shakspeare silently examined the trinket, which was in a gold frame, that the youth wore round his neck. On one side was the likeness of a very lovely woman; the other had contained another miniature, mayhap, of a cavalier; but it was now empty.

Now, look at this!" exclaimed Master Shakspeare, in apparent wonder. "Here is a youth of some eighteen years or so, who confesses that he hath met with no fair damsel with soul-enkindling eyes and roseate cheeks, whose health he deems worthy of being drunk in a bumber of sherris."

"I said not that, Master Shakspeare," replied his young companion, hastily, as the color mounted to his cheek-"Believe me, I said not that."

"I believe you most heartily," said his host with a laugh, as he noticed the youth's increasing confusion. "I see conviction in your complexion. Her health, Master Francis."

"Well, I suppose I must," observed his guest, as if anxious to be quickly relieved from his embarrassment. "I thank you kindly. She is a right noble creature, and I should be the basest wretch alive were I to refuse to drink her health

"The initials E. V., on one side the frame, are for my mother Eleanor Vellum," continued the youth, "and the F. H., on the empty frame, are doubtless the initials of my father; of which one consideringmust be Francis, for so she always called him, as I have heard, and therefore by that name have I been christened; but what the other standeth for I know not, and perchance may never know till the day of judgment."

"Be of good heart, Master Francis," said his companion, encouragingly, "peradventure the secret may be discovered sooner than you look for. But what says your uncle?-knoweth he nothing?"

"Here the young poet

stopped suddenly; his complexion acquired a warmer glow; and a shadow of deep melancholy overspread his features.'

"Hath she no name, Master Francis?" inquired the other earnestly, and, if the truth must be told, somewhat mischievously.

"Indeed she hath," he replied. "It is a good name—a name of excellent credit

-a

"

"I doubt it not," observed Master Shakspeare, with more than his usual gravity; but to the point, man. Dost hesitate to tell it? Take my word for it, you are paying her no compliment if you do."

"Sometimes I am apt to think that he knows more than he is inclined to tell," replied Master Francis ; "for in his unguarded moments, he hath dropped some mysterious hints which savor a little of the purpose. But he is so continually upbraiding me for the troubles and the 'Her name is Joanna," said the youth charges I put him to-he so stints me in in a voice scarcely audible, and trying all sorts of necessaries, and so begrudges unsuccessfully to hide his confusion. me the little pleasure I enjoy-that he | "Then drink I your Joanna's health in

66

a brimming cup, and with a most heart- | self down on the stool, laid aside his stick,

felt wish that she may be worthy of you, and that you may be happy with her." Master Francis said nothing, but hastened to drink the wine that had been placed in his hand.

"And now, Master Francis, here is your tragedy," said his companion, as he gave him the manuscript, with a benevolent countenance and a cordial shake of the hand; "and henceforth consider me your friend, for I wish to prove myself such. Something shall be done for you, rest assured, and that very shortly. Good day, Master Francis, good day," he continued, as he kindly led his visiter to the door, and opened it for him.

Master Francis could only look his thanks, and then threading the narrow staircase of the house, made the best of his way to St. Mary Axe.

"FRANCIS! FRANCIS!" screamed out a little old man, meanly apparelled, as he stumped about with his stick in a gloomy room, that appeared from its deficiency in all furniture, save a desk with a tall stool, and several papers and parchments tied up and placed on shelves about the fireplace, that it was an office. "Francis! Francis, I say! A murrain on thee for a lazy varlet! thou art sure to give me the slip as soon as my back is turned. Francis!" he shouted again, and then muttered to himself, "a wasteful, idle, good-for-naught, that be always consuming my substance or misspending my time; I would I were well rid of him. Francis, I say! Here have I been bawling about the house for the better part of an hour searching for him-the graceless vagrant. Francis!" Thus he went on, growling and grumbling, and poking into every hole and corner, with a physiognomy most unnaturally crabbed, and a voice feeble and shrewish. At last he sat him

and began examining the loose papers on the desk; first putting on a pair of cracked spectacles to assist his sight. Besides being short and old--that is, of some sixty years or more-he was of a marvellous spare body; and his sharp nose and pointed chin, small eyes and saturnine complexion, did not appear to more advantage, surrounded by a scanty beard that had become quite grizzled by age. His attire was of the homeliest-nay, it gave evidence of more than ordinary thriftfor his trunks were patched, and his hose were darned, and his shoes would have looked all the better had they been indebted to the craft of the cordwainer. As for his doublet, it was of a most ancient fashion, and though the cloth was originally a Lincoln green, it had become, by long use, and exposure to all sorts of weathers, more resembling the dingy hue of a smoked rafter.

As he scrutinized the papers, he broke out into such vehement ejaculations as these:

"This account not finished! Here's a villanous neglect of my interests! Here's a shameful contempt of my authority! Here's flat contradiction and horrible ingratitude! Oh, the abominable and most pestilent knave! whilst he eats me out of house and home-costs me a world and all in tailoring and other chargeshe leaveth my business to take care of itself. But what have we here?" he exclaimed, as he commenced examining a paper that had evidently been concealed among the others. "Verses, or I'm a heathen!" cried he in a tone of consternation. "Nay, if he takes to such evil courses, it must needs come to hanging."

While he was intent upon perusing with angry exclamations the contents of the object that had excited his displeasure, he suddenly felt a hand upon his shoulder, and turning round with no small degree of alarm impressed upon his unamiable features, he observed a young female-by her dress probably of the middle ranks. She wore on the back of her head a small velvet hat, from under which escaped several long dark tresses, that, parted in the front, set off to great advantage a right comely face, of a very rich complexion, which was made infinitely more attractive by a pair of delicate, dark hazel eyes, peculiarly seductive in their expression. Her age might be somewhat beyond twenty; for her form was fully rounded, and moulded into the most ex

cellent proportions, which were admirably apparelled in a neat boddice and a dainty farthingale. In truth, she was a damsel possessed of all the perfections of womanhood.

"You sweet rogue, how you frightened me!" exclaimed the old man, the surprise and alarm he had exhibited in his countenance now giving place to pleasure and admiration, as he gazed upon the smiling beauty before him.

"But what hath so put your temper into vital jeopardy, good Gregory Vellum ?" added she coaxingly, as she leaned over his shoulder, seemingly the better to observe the writing he held in his

hand.

what eagerly, and without a second summons or a word of reply, stood before the old man, and, as he wiped his spectacles and put them away, and carefully folded up the candle-ends, she read what follows:

A RIGHT EARNEST EXPOSTULATION:

ADDRESSED TO HER WHO WILL BEST UNDERSTAND IT.
HAVING SO oft and fondly sung thy praise,
I find I can not thy defects portray;

My pen is ready for most flatt'ring lays,
Thou, to my heart, hast given deep offence,
Yet see I in thee naught but excellence.
'Tis passing strange-but pity 'tis too true!
Things manifold thou dost unkindly do
Thy goodness toward me doth seem to halt;

But censures not: it knoweth not the way.

Which pain me much-yet know I not thy fault; For ev'ry day thou heapest on me wrongs

Wherefore is this?-Tis thus-no long time since
Each day, each hour, each moment found me blest;

All the fond love thy nature could evince,

All the sweet goodness of thy gentle breast. Didst thou in pure devotion render mine,

To teach me what of earth was most divine.

"Marry, matter enough, sweetest," replied he; "that undutiful and most hard- Find'st thou a perfect creature in my songs. ened reprobate, my nephew- -a plague on all parents that can not provide for their own offspring, say I-unmindful of the great expenses he hath put me to, not only leaves my business unattended, whenever I am not watching his movements, but passeth the times he should employ for my advantages in destroying my paper, pens, and ink, in scribbling a whole host of pernicious verses."

"Oh, the profligate!" cried the other, as if marvelling greatly; but still stretching out her pretty neck to see what was written on the paper.

"I am glad to see that you regard his atrocious wickedness with a proper detestation," repeated the other. "But that be not the worst of his villany. Only think of the pestilent varlet robbing me of these fine bits of candle, which in my search for him a moment since I found secreted

away in his chamber." And thereupon, with a look of terrible indignation, he brought out of his vest, carefully wrapt up in an old rag, three candle-ends, each about an inch long.

"What wonderful iniquity !" exclaimed she, giving a hasty glance at the contents of the rag, and then again quickly fixing her gaze upon the paper.

Ay, that is it with a vengeance," replied the old man. "Now, he stealeth these pieces of candle-a murrain on him for his abominable dishonesty-and burneth them when I, his too indulgent uncle, am fast asleep; and there he sits, wearing out the night in studying a most unprofitable lot of heathenish books. But take this trumpery and read it, Mistress Joanna, for he writes such an unnatural fine hand that my poor eyes ache with looking at it."

The fair Joanna took the paper some

As a rude heathen who to stock and stone
Prostrates his soul in worship-when he knows
THE TRUTH that reigns almighty and alone,
My idols I cast down, and knelt and prayed
Where, I knew well, my hopes of Heaven were laid.

He evermore with the true worship bows;

Then bountifully were thy blessings showered;
And I, the sole receptacle they sought,
Have known my grateful spirit overpowered

'Neath the delighting burthens thou hast brought, Oft didst thou say thou couldst love none but me ; And much I strived to be worthy thee.

But now-unhappy chance that brought this turn!

Thou dost deny me with excuses weak
The fondnesses for which my soul doth yearn,
And dost within another's eye balls seek
The charm, the spirit, and the joy that shone
In my rapt gaze reflected from thine own!
Nothing thou doest doth my eyes escape;

I know thy purposes-thy thoughts behold:

Alas, that they should often take a shape
Which multiplies my cares a thousand fold!
Alas, that thou art changed!-alas, indeed,
A plant so fair should bear such worthless seed!
But these stern words on thee must never fall;

"Tis my unlucky fortune that's to blame,
In my own heart I censure not at all;

I

For all thy goodnesses such footing claim, That thy unkindnesses there find no placeThere is no room for things that seem so base. Cease I to be of value in thy sight?

The worth I owned hath vanished utterly:

The pebbles upon which thy feet alight

To me more estimable seem than I;

For as the moon doth borrow all her shine,
My worthiness hath had its source in thine.

Fault none of mine is it that I am not
So precious as thy love hath made me seem;
Thou prized me then for worth I had not got;
yet if thou thinkest me such sort as this,
And now thou dost my meed too lowly deem.
Am I the very poorest thing that is.
know not why that thou shouldst now prefer
I'd say no more if it were worthier,

Another to a heart so much thine own:

But doubt I much it love like mine hath known
Oh, would I could forget that thou wert kind,
Or thou wouldst act more truly to my mind!