"Which he will as boldly deny," replied Jannetje. "You know not the narrow and interested views of my father, my dear Wouter, or you would not rely so confidently on the issue of your application."

"The hope that is born of requited love, Jannetje," answered Wouter, "is more permanent than a rainbow. Let not, therefore, any thought of opposition intrude either upon your sleeping or your waking dreams. Leave wholly to me the arduous task of seeking the proper time and opportunity for a disclosure."

"These arguments sound very pretty by moonlight," said Jannetje; but will they bear the light of day?"

"Ay, Jannetje, and win the day, too!" answered the enamoured swain, in a tone which almost succeeded in inspiring her with confidence.

Katrijn, with the frisking Kato at her heels, entering the room at this juncture, suddenly put an end to the interesting colloquy, and compelled Wouter to push off his boat in haste.

CHAP. IX.

A Speculation.

Ter Beek was by no means a wise or a clever man. It is true he had accumulated a good round sum, but this was certainly the result of that blind dispensation of worldly goods in which Fortune appears to delight, for in every difficulty which had latterly occurred he exhibited neither acuteness nor presence of mind; and in several instances would assuredly have lost a considerable amount had it not been for the prompt interposition and peculiar tact of Jan Snep.

Business, too, at this epoch began to assume a very different appearance from what it had done at the time of his harvest; and younger and more enterprising men entered the field, with whom he would have found it a great difficulty to compete, had not the adroit and quicksighted Snep seized the helm, and boldly steered him clear of the many shoals and quicksands which daily threatened his destruction. But instead of rewarding him according to his merit, he still pursued the same course of "penny-wise" generosity, and as Snep quaintly observed, He only got a little fish' for every whale he caught him!" Still the worthy clerk laughed on and persevered.

One morning when Jan, who had been absent for several hours on business, returned to the counting-house, Gerrit bade him hasten to his master, who was impatiently waiting for him in his private room. Jan Snep adjusted his broad-brimmed spectacles, and entered.

"Zit neer, myn kind," (Sit down, my child,) said Ter Beek. The "child" took a seat; and beheld a lot of papers and parchments spread upon the table before the governor.

"Snep," continued he, rubbing his hands, and looking cunningly at the clerk, our fortune's made."

"for

"I shall be glad to hear if mine be only mended," replied Jan, it's rather out at elbows. But have a care, Mynheer; things done in a hurry are seldom done well. I remember my clever cousin Griete made a pudding in such haste one day, that, when it was served up, the apples were wanting. Nothing but solid dough, by jingo!"

"Well, well," said Ter Beek, impatiently; "but I have looked on

both sides, and maturely considered this speculation. It's a splendid offer. Read that bond."

Jan Snep conned over the document. "It appears very promising." Promising!" cried Ter Beek; "it's as plain as the nose on your

face."

"Which, by-the-by," replied Jan, clapping his hand to his proboscis, "has been reckoned rather handsome; excuse my partiality for the prominence!"

"Whisht!" exclaimed Ter Beek; "don't let's waste the time in idle phrase. The Heer Andries van Geldorp, mentioned there, will be here presently for my decision. There are twenty of the first houses would jump at it."

"If all the churches jump, too," said Jan Snep," I shall not like the project a whit the better. I hate speculation.'

"Ah, Snep!" cried Ter Beek; you are but a young man in business. Why, some of the first merchants in this city have been made by such lucky turns. It's a hit, depend on't,—and I shall sign the bond." "As your own master, you can do what you please," said Snep: mine, I can only wish you success."

as

The Heer Andries van Geldorp was announced, and all further discussion was effectually put an end to, by the execution of the deed.

CHAP. X.

A" pretty kettle of fish," but no more little fishes for Jan Snep.

"Wee my! ik ben verloren!" (Woe is me! I am undone!) exclaimed the disconsolate Ter Beek, as he threw an open letter across the table to his confidential clerk.

"Lost, indeed!" said Snep, after perusing the epistle: "depend on't, Mynheer, this same Van Geldorp is an arrant adventurer, and has let you in."

"O! that bond! I shall be ruined!"

"Let me see," said Snep. "Ah! the words were jointly' and severally; and should this fellow prove not worth a rap, (as I fear,) you are liable for the whole amount!"

"Too true!" cried the distracted speculator. "My dear Snep, what is to be done?"

"Recover the bond."

"How? how?" cried Ter Beek, frantically grasping his hand. "Extricate me from this difficulty, Snep, and great shall be your reward."

Jan Snep almost smiled as the thought of the "little fishes," floated across his mind.

"A thought strikes me, Mynheer," said Snep. "Sit down, and be calm awhile."

"How cool you are! Yes, yes; you are confident,—you will save me," said Ter Beek.

"I can, and will," replied Snep, firmly: "but look'ye, Mynheer, such a service, nay, the many services I have already done your house, -reasonably demand a greater return than any you have yet made me. You know my diligence and ability. If I obtain this bond,-cancel it, -and rescue you from this dilemma,-my price is a partnership! June.-VOL. L. NO. CXCVIII.

U

Listen to me, Mynheer, without observation, for the time is precious. A partnership in your business, and your daughter's hand as a collateral security."

"My daughter's hand! I cannot force Jannetje to

"Mynheer," continued Snep," from the first moment I beheld the maiden I loved her, nor do I believe she looks with indifference on me. Of course this point requires her voice for the decision; but in love, as in business, I believe I can command success. If her heart be already engaged,-which I doubt from the seclusion in which she has been kept, then I reserve to myself the power of bestowing her on the object of her choice."

"Jan Snep," exclaimed the agitated Ter Beek," circumstances have placed me in such a position that I cannot demur."

The clerk was well aware of this, and like an able general taking advantaeg of a routed enemy, he pursued his point, and pushed forward with his usual decision. Hastily drawing up an agreement, he laid it before Ter Beek, and it was executed without delay or hesitation in the presence of Gerrit and another clerk in the establishment.

CHAPTER THE LAST.

The Clerk-Suitor.

On the afternoon of the next day, the clever and ambitious Jan Snep was standing, hat in hand, in Jannetje's little parlour; while that young lady with flushed cheeks and palpitating heart was reading the notable agreement signed by her father.

Myuheer Snep," said she, " I feel the liveliest sentiments of gratitude towards you for the services you have rendered my father, butJan Snep looked anxiously upon her as she spoke, and as she uttered the disjunctive conjunction " but," his hat dropped from his hand. "You refuse me for a partner?" said he. "Some prior engagement can alone render such conduct possible or pardonable Jannetje hung her head, and blushed. "True, Mynheer, I am engaged."

Then, Mejufvrouw,"-exclaimed he, sternly"What then?" said the trembling girl.

"Why, then, you have spoiled one of the prettiest triangular arrangements that ever entered the noddle of Jan Snep to form,-your father, I, and you! Was there ever such a snug partnership?" This was uttered in such a pleasant tone and humour, that Jannetje could not refrain from smiling. "My dear Jannetje," continued he, "I will no longer keep you in suspense. I know your lover."

"Indeed!"

"And a very fine youth he is," continued he; "in fact, they say there is a strong resemblance between us. What do you think?" added he, taking off his broad-brimmed spectacles.

Why, really," exclaimed Jannetje, starting from her chair and gazing upon him," there is a likeness!"

"And what think you now?" added he, pulling off his half-grey wig, and displaying his jet-black hair.

"O! my dear, dear Wouter!" cried Jannetje, and rushing into his arms, she burst into a flood of tears, called forth by the ecstacy of her

feelings; for the eccentric Jan Snep was indeed no other than her devoted lover, who, by his natural ability, and the co-operation of a faithful friend in this last, bold, and successful stratagem, fairly won the object of his early affections.

Nor was the Heer Lukas ter Beek a loser by the alliance; for Wouter Gryspeert, by his diligence and activity, considerably augmented the revenues of the establishment, which soon became, under his management, one of the wealthiest houses in Amsterdam. ALFRED CROWQUILL.

THE PILGRIMS.

PARCH'D with September's heat, and worn
By ceaseless toil from early morn,

Two pilgrims mark'd with keen delight
A rustic gate upon their right,

O'er which elm, birch-tree, oak and larch,
Entwining, form'd a verdant arch.
Entering this cloister'd porch they found
A flower-enamell'd lane, which wound,
Descending through a woody glade,
Into the very depths of shade,
Where, in the silence dim and still,
A fallen tree beside a rill

Woo'd them a short repose to take,

And in the stream their thirst to slake.

A freshness fragrant, cool, and moist,

Which you might feel, and taste, and smell,

Threw round them its reviving spell,

As if each pore at once rejoiced,
As it imbibed with grateful cheer
Th' exhilarating atmosphere.
Waving their boughs aloft, the trees,
Fann'd by a balmy gentle breeze,
Gave now and then the skies to view,
Remotely glowing, bright and blue.
Beneath, along the distant glen,

Where through the leaves the sun had ooz'd,

The pilgrims here and there might ken

A green and sultry light diffused,

Which gave their shady cool recess
A more intense deliciousness,

While sounds of life around the wood
Seem'd to enhance its solitude.

The chattering magpie and his mate
Repeating one another's calls,

The woodman's axe, the banging gate,
On which the truant schoolboy swings,
With dim and distant echoings

Were heard and lost at intervals.
One of our pilgrims now untied
A canvass pouch, and softly sigh'd-

Vy, Jack, vith all them lots o' snares
Ve've only cotch'd three shabby hares;
It's cruel vork vhen Poachers fags
All night, and never fills their bags!”

H.

THE CONVERSAZIONE,

ON THE LITERATURE OF THE MONTH.

The Colonel. In my late residence in France I made some attempts to enlarge my military recollections by French memoirs of the war. I failed, for, to my great surprise, I could scarcely meet with any above mediocrity. There were, it is true, formal histories of campaigns; and Dumas and Foy had the merit, such as it is, of filling several heavy volumes with heavy details of the marchings and countermarchings of the combatants. But nothing can be more tiresome than those histories en masse, and, in a military point of view, nothing less instructive. No two campaigns, even fought on the same ground, have the least resemblance; and the general who fights his battle from books will be pretty much in the condition of the Englishman who learns French on this side of the Channel. The one in a foreign field will be like the other in a foreign tavern. Both will be laughed at, the only difference being, that the one will be beaten and the other starved.

The Barrister. We have made that discovery amply enough. The few of those heavy volumes which attempted to entrap us into tactics went down to oblivion with a remarkable force of gravity; and the only one which still struggles with the weight of existence, survives in the shape of a solid romance, where fable relieves fact, and the campaigns of the writer's brain give their saving vivacity to the campaigns of the field. Yet we have other works, and from military pens too, which teach without toil, and interest us without fiction. I admit that they are generally but episodes-fragments of some stirring period-scenes which came under the writer's eye, and are therefore described with the spirit of reality; for instance, Kincaird's "Rifleman," Gleig's "Subaltern," and others of the same calibre.

The Rector. Gleig is certainly clever. He is turning his new position to advantage, like a sensible fellow as he is. Among the veterans of Chelsea he may find many a curious history, which an idler would neglect, and a blockhead would not be able to understand; but as he is the reverse of both, I say, "Macte virtute," let him go on, and give us all that the old soldier can tell the world. His "Hussar 'is excellent. It begins with a capital story of patronage in Prussia. The Hussar is Serjeant Norbert Landsheit, a German invalided in our service. The old warrior had seen so much of campaigning, that Gleig asked him how it happened that he never had been made a commissioned officer. The answer was the story.

"I shall reply to you, Sir," said he, in his slightly-broken English," by reminding you of a passage in the life of Frederic the Great. There was a poor curate, who, after many years' faithful service in the diocese, applied to the bishop for a vacant living. Ah! replied the bishop, who fully acknowledged his merits; so you knew that that living was vacant did you? Well, I am very sorry I cannot give you that-I have promised it to my nephew; but you shall have the next that falls.' The curate returned home, scarcely disappointed, for he thought the bishop's reason a fair one. A living fell soon after, and he went on the wings of hope to the bishop. It is very provoking, my dear Sir,' was the answer; but I cannot give you this-I have promised it to my sister's son; but you shall have the next. The story