Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. III, No. XVII, October 1851

The next morning Helen was very ill--so ill that, shortly after rising, she was forced to creep back to bed. Her frame shivered--her eyes were heavy--her hand burned like fire....

There is a wide gulf between him who opens his waking eyes in a splendid chamber, and with half-drowsy thoughts speculates on the pleasures of the coming day, and him, who, risi...

The Duc D'Enghien and his aid-de-camp were forwarded with the utmost speed to Paris; the remainder of us were imprisoned at Strassburg. What became of my companions I know not;...

I now come to an incident in my life, of which however briefly I may speak, has left the deepest impression on my memory. I have told the reader how I left Kuffstein fully satis...

"What is courage?" said my uncle Roland, rousing himself from a reverie into which he had fallen after the Sixth Book in this history had been read to our family circle.

And with Burley there reeled in another man--a friend of his--a man who had been a wealthy trader and once well to do, but who, unluckily, had literary tastes, and was fond of h...

Suddenly one morning, as Leonard sate with Burley, a fashionable cabriolet, with a very handsome horse, stopped at the door--a loud knock--a quick step on the stairs, and Randal...

There appeared in the _Beehive_ certain very truculent political papers--papers very like the tracts in the Tinker's bag. Leonard did not heed them much, but they made far more...

One day three persons were standing before an old book-stall in a passage leading from Oxford-street into Tottenham-court-road. Two were gentlemen; the third, of the class and a...

Helen was seized with profound and anxious sadness. Leonard had been three or four times to see her, and each time she saw a change in him that excited all her fears. He seemed,...

Meanwhile, on leaving Helen, Burley strode on; and, as if by some better instinct, for he was unconscious of his own steps, he took the way toward the still green haunts of his...

Miss Starke was one of those ladies who pass their lives in the direst of all civil strife--war with their servants. She looked upon the members of that class as the unrelenting...

Then they went into a public house by the wayside. Burley demanded a private room, called for pen, ink, and paper; and placing these implements before Leonard, said, "Write what...

There was to be a considerable book-sale at a country house one day's journey from London. Mr. Prickett meant to have attended it on his own behalf, and that of several gentleme...

Nothing, perhaps, could have severed Leonard from Burley but Helen's return to his care. It was impossible for him, even had there been another room in the house vacant (which t...

Leonard had written twice to Mrs. Fairfield, twice to Riccabocca, and once to Mr. Dale; and the poor proud boy could not bear to betray his humiliation. He wrote with as cheerfu...

Fine things were there in a fragmentary crude state, composed by Burley himself. At the end of a week they were dead and forgotten--never read by one man of education and taste;...

As the reader will expect, no trace of Burley could Leonard find: the humorist had ceased to communicate with the _Beehive_. But Leonard grieved for Burley's sake; and, indeed,...