"Go on, mes enfans," said la Mère to the betrothed ones" Allez, mes enfans, and God bless you!-but do not forget the fate of Pierre and Josephine.'

"Pierre and Josephine!" repeated the grandfather, who had taken his laughing grandchild from the arms of his daughter. Eh, mon Dieu! Mère Françon, why should you think of them, or, thinking, why should you mention them to Marie. Josephine was her aunt. See! there are tears in her eyes-fie, fie. Ma bonne Mère, you have done foolishly."

"I have not," she replied, sharply; they seem already as if there were but their two selves alive, and that's not the way to get through the world. See what Josephine suffered. Ah! you men don't like young girls to hear the truth from us wise women, because we teach them not to set their hearts too much upon one. Ah! here am I, la Mère Françon! and at this hour I cannot tell which of my two husbands I loved most!"

"You'd love the third best if you had him, wouldn't you! 1?" inquired the man.

"I might or I might not," she answered, good-humouredly; " but do not love each other too much, mes enfans, for, say what you will, much love breeds much sorrow-a careless heart is ever the lightest.'

The lovers looked in each other's face, and did not believe her. I do not wonder at their heresy; youth cannot look on what it loves, and fancy ill can come of what it doats upon. La Mère Françon was of too dignified a carriage to be swift o' foot, and I lagged behind, anxious to learn the fate of Pierre and Josephine. The harvesters trooped merrily on-not absolutely heedless of the presence of their superiors, but without any of that embarrassment which people of their class would evince in England-they talked and laughed with all their hearts, and I did not find it difficult to induce la bonne Mère to accede to my request. I could not expect much sentiment from her. She had the step and voice of a man, and a certain authoritative twist of head and arms, as if she had been accustomed to use both upon an emergency. The grey-eyed mother of the boy, whom his grandfather had borne off in triumph, was, however, at her side, and seemed determined to correct the harshness or acidity of her "aunt's" observations.

"Pierre and Josephine," she said, "had been affianced at Harfleur, in the early part of the harvest, determined, like Jacques and Marie, to be married at its termination. Pierre was a shepherd; and Josephine, the prettiest maid in the arrondissement, used to work, sometimes in the fields, but generally at her trade. She had learnt lace-making in Bas Normandie, and was always able to obtain the best price for her industry. Pierre was an invaluable shepherd.

"Did you not observe, Madame, before you entered the avenue of the château, a shepherd's house, lonely and desolate, standing beneath the trees-it was one of those that go on wheels, with just room in the inside for the bed and light which shepherds use, and beside it is a small box, constructed on the same plan-that was poor Fidelle's.

"You are not come to Fidelle yet, ma tante," interrupted her niece. "Well, Pierre and Josephine were betrothed, and the day fixed for their wedding. Nothing else was talked of amongst us, for they were well beloved; and Pierre had bought two ewes and three lambs of his

own and Josephine's grandmother had agreed to give them a room in her house, and it was furnished as handsomely as heart could wish. Three bouquets, under glass shades, on the mantel-shelf; a bed of the longest and finest wool; a crucifix, as natural as life; and six straw chairs. I forget, now, what besides; but I know it was like a little paradise. I remember though, as if it were but yesterday, our walking in those very woods just as those poor fools are doing."

"Ah, ma tante!" exclaimed the young wife, reproachfully, "why do you call them fools? Jacques is a brave garçon, and Marie a steady girl!"

"All young people,” replied the dame pompously, "are fools, more or less; and you, ma nièce, not an exception."

The niece made no reply, but looked at me, and smiled.

66

They walked in these woods!" repeated the woman; singing with the birds, dancing with the leaves, and feeling as if life was one long midsummer day, without storm or shower. Pierre talked so long and so loudly of his approaching happiness, that, though I was only just married to my first husband then, and had not much experience in the changes of life, I could not help giving him a gentle warning, that things might not always prosper. At this he grew angry, and then I saw a flashing of his eye, which I did not like. I told Josephine as much that night, and she answered as women do before they are married, that the eye, which flashed anger on others, would only flash love on her. Ah! poor thing! she little knew.

"Some of the people about the château heard a great shouting, and then the long-repeated howls of poor Fidelle-it was very mournful; but Jean, the porter, was afraid to open the gate at night, and so waited till the morning. Some men are very cowardly-and Jean never drank anything stronger than vin ordinaire, and but little of that, as his wife was sickly, and he kept it for her. Well, Madame, when he opened the gate, he perceived that the sheep were scattered about in strange disorder, as having no shepherd, but no where was Pierre to be seen. The old porter thought he would inquire of Josephine if she knew ought of her lover, and he went to her mother's cottage, which was already decked as for a bridal-Josephine was not there. Her mother said that she had walked out early before the village girls were up, that she had promised Pierre to meet him at the garden of their neighbour, Johanot, who had offered the young persons his finest flowers to render their fête complete, and that she could not account for her protracted absence. The porter, Jean, had been a father himself, so he did not alarm the good mother, but, saying that he would seek them in Johanot's garden, he departed.

"He found the gardener heaping bouquets of flowers on his parterre, anxiously looking out for his favourites. The garden was situated on the slope of one of the gentlest hills in Normandie, and commanded a view of a portion of the path leading from Josephine's cottage to the neighbouring hamlet. The gardener said, that soon after daybreak (for he rose before the sun to cull his flowers), he saw the lovers meet in that valley, and walk together a little way, and then Pierre started off at the top of his speed over the next hill, that he imagined the flight was in sport, as he was pursued by Josephine, and his dog Fidelle, and he had been expecting them by another path. This did not at all satisfy Jean, who

felt assured the screams he had heard in the night proceeded from Pierre. The old man, too, remembered that more than once he had suspected that the young shepherd had more than was beseeming of the sort of knowledge that maddens simple heads. He would gaze from out his little hut for hours at the stars, and make odd figures upon slates: then he had two or three queer books-odd, old things, which he used to pore over for hours-not that he neglected his sheep--oh, no: he was watchful and attentive enough to them, and gentle to animals, though no one liked exactly to contradict him in any way, for it made him fractious. It is odd how at times hosts of unpleasant remembrances crowd to the mind, and Johanot could not for his life get rid of his apprehensions, though he hardly knew what he feared. The old porter and the old gardener looked in each other's faces, but spoke not; then bent their gaze over the wooded valleys and little hills, and then turned toward the sea which was narrowing into the Seine, whose beauties cannot be appreciated except by those who traverse its waters from Havre to Rouen.

"As the day advanced those who had been bidden to the bridal congregated, and all to whom the youthful pair were known hurried in search of them. Rumour was busy as usual; one said they had seen them here, another there; everything was steeped in uncertainty, and the poor mother of Josephine rushed from place to place in a state of distraction. At last a shrimp gatherer, who wended his way to where he expected a scene of festivity, stated to old Jean that he had seen a woman bending over one of the cliffs when he left the shore, he was so anxious to arrive at the village that he did not go towards her, and then

you

"Non, ma tante," interrupted the young woman," if you think will call to mind that the people said it could not be Josephine, as Pierre was not with her."

“True,” said the woman, "but old Johanot and I thought otherwise : and, without saying anything to any one, away we went, determined to ascertain if we could hear tidings of them in that direction; it was as lovely a day as ever shone from the heavens of France, and the old gardener said as we walked along that it would be impossible a day on which nature poured so many blessings on her children should visit harshly such as those whom we sought; it is wonderful, Madame, how simple people are, who live only amongst birds and flowers." And she drew herself up with an air of conscious superiority that was very amusing. "I have seen the finest days shine on the darkest deeds," she continued; "but Johanot would not believe me when I told him We walked and walked in the hot sunshine until we reached the cliff the shrimp gatherer had pointed out: and there, indeed, was the maiden we sought. She was crouched on the very edge of the precipice -her neck stretched out like a wild sea bird's-her position was so dangerous that we feared to approach her-but called again and again, though our only answers were the echoes of the caverns. 'There must be some reason,' said Johanot, for turning a living woman into a marble statue. Creep close to her, and draw her by her dress from that fearful height: I will descend the cliffs and endeavour to ascertain the cause.' I dragged myself cautiously to the spot. I was horrified at the aspect of her countenance when I caught sight of her profile: it

so.

was white as marble-the lips apart, showing the glittering teeth and bloodless gums-the eyes straining from beneath their fringed lids-the hands clenched, one in the uprooted and fragrant thyme, the other in the tangled tresses of her hair. Close and more close I drew, without attracting her attention, until at last I grasped her dress tightly with one hand, and supported myself with the other so as to see the beach beneath. I shall never forget the hot throbbing pang that rushed through my brain when I saw the body of the unfortunate Pierre heaped, as it were, upon the rocks beneath. I know not if he had turned after his fall, but the face was towards the sky, and I suppose it was the reflection of the sun, but his eyes appeared to me as of living fire;—his bridal bed was on the flinty rock!-his bride a hopeless maniac!--and instead of the blessing from the holy priest, that would have climbed the heavens to win the grace of God, the sea-birds whirled and screamed over his mangled corse."

"You have forgotten the dog," said her niece.

"No, I have not," she replied; "how the dog got down I do not know, but there was poor Fidelle, and ever and anon his howls mingled with the shrieks of the wild water-fowl. I saw Johanot approach the body, and when he raised the mangled remains of the poor shepherd, it was then that Josephine would have sprang over if I had not clutched her firmly, and the long protracted screams that burst from her lips struck a terror to my heart which even now I tremble to think upon.' "But the cause the cause ?" I inquired.

"Who can tell the cause of madness?" she replied. understand it? Some said books

"Who can

"And others," added the niece, " declared it was the moon." "He was quite dead, I suppose

"Oh, yes. We think that madness came upon him in the night, and that he wandered to the trysting place they had appointed, where he met poor Josephine, who, horrified and bewildered, traced his footsteps to the fatal spot, where he rushed headlong to destruction."

"Does she live ?" I inquired.

"No; but she did live long after the fatal accident," replied my informer. "Those who were to have attended the bridal followed the youth to his grave. Josephine's mind was so completely unsettled that her friends watched her wanderings for more than a year, her mother looked like a spectre, and it was sad to see the old woman following her as the shadow follows the substance, and when she died Josephine took no heed, though we all believed she loved her mother dearly; till reason forsook her she had been a most affectionate child. At last we got weary of observing her, and the only thing that remained faithful to her at the last was poor Fidelle. To be sure," added the Frenchwoman, "when she was found dead upon the cliff from whence she had witnessed her lover's destruction, we gave her a grand funeral, and old Johanot dressed her grave once a-year with his finest flowers until he himself departed. Do you not think it right to warn young people of the fate of those poor lovers? It was her love for him that drove her wild. Hark, ma nièce, they are singing in the valley, let us join the dance."

And away tripped the dame as cheerfully as if she had never witnessed sorrow, or told the fate of PIERRE AND JOSEPHINE.

ON NERVOUS INFLUENCE.

THAT every created being is more or less subject to the influence of his nerves few will dispute, but to enter upon a metaphysical disquisition upon the subject has been reserved for one of the softer sex. Mrs. Carleton, a lady possessed of rare talent as a reasoner, has lately given to the reading world a treatise * upon this universally interesting topic; and, although women have been accused of never knowing their own minds, it appears that she wishes to avoid this imputation, by subjecting hers to a very particular scrutiny, for she declares that this, and this alone, has been her book, and that she has studied no other metaphysical work. It is indeed very evident that she has not studied this abstruse science secundum artem, and that her brains have not been furnished from the huge philosophical folios of any age; but as her own ideas are clearly explained and systematically arranged, their simplicity gives them the advantage of being easily comprehended by the most unscientific reader; while the more learned may find some interest in a composition of undoubted originality; and both may profit by the high and pure strain of morality that pervades the whole. We shall not enter into any discussion respecting the correctness of the views, and the degree of probability of the surmises, with which this " Inquiry " abounds, but leave that matter to the readers, who may judge of the doubtful points according to their own feelings, studies, and opinions; for this subject affords an ample field for difference of opinion, with very little firm ground to stand upon. Those who differ the most from our authoress, however, must do so in good humour, for she evades the shafts of malice by modestly disclaiming the intention of making a single assertion, or of presenting her ideas in the arrogant shape of information. In ethics and physiology, however, she brings forward truths and facts drawn from good sources, and shows that in these departments, at least, her mind has not been her "only book." Indeed, with regard to physiology, knowledge was indispensable, for she could not so conve niently inspect her own nerves as her own mind. On this tangible foundation she has built her immaterial superstructure, expressing the conviction that metaphysics can only be studied through the medium of physiology. She steers her way between materialism on the one hand, and that independence of matter on the other, which many consider as the most orthodox doctrine; but while her opinions bring her nearer to the verge of materialism than any metaphysician who is not of that persuasion, she so clearly and invariably keeps in view the distinct nature and office of the two principles, as to show that she stands quite firm upon the brink. Her belief that matter and spirit have been created dependent upon each other, and incapable of operating without this mutual assistance, leads her unavoidably to the conclusion, that all beings, save the One Uncreate, act and are acted upon by matter in some form, and that even angels and the souls beyond the grave have immortal bodies to minister to their immortal spirits; and this idea, which widens the unfathomable gulf

*Inquiry into the Nature and Effects of the Nervous Influence, and its Connexion with the Vital, Moral, and Intellectual Operations; a Physiological, Metaphysical, and Moral Essay. By C. Carleton. 1 vol. Galignani, Paris; and Moxon, Dover Street, London.