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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b2e4b4b --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55380 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55380) diff --git a/old/55380-0.txt b/old/55380-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e52c8b1..0000000 --- a/old/55380-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7204 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXV, No. 3, -September 1849, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXV, No. 3, September 1849 - -Author: Various - -Editor: George R. Graham - J. R. Chandler - J. B. Taylor - -Release Date: August 18, 2017 [EBook #55380] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, SEPTEMBER 1849 *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from -page images generously made available by Google Books - - - - - - GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE. - VOL. XXXV. September, 1849. No. 3. - - - Table of Contents - - Fiction, Literature and Other Articles - - General Training - Jasper St. Aubyn - Sketches of Life in Our Village - Legend of the Introduction of Death, and Origin of - the Medicine Worship Among the Ogibwas - Love Tests of Halloween - Jessie Lincoln - Colored Birds.—The Bullfinch. - A Traveler’s Story - The Two Paths - Wild-Birds of America - Review of New Books - - Poetry, Music, and Fashion - - To the Lily of the Valley - “Good-Night.” - The Spanish Maiden - The Angel’s Visit - Lily Leslie - To a Portrait - The Odalisque - To Inez.—At Florence. - Communion of the Sea and Sky - Time and Change - Woman’s Heart:—A Sonnet. - The Rain - Le Follet - Oh, Let Thy Locks Unbraided Fall - - Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: NO ROSE WITHOUT A THORN. - -Engraved and Printed expressly for Graham’s Magazine by J. M. Butler.] - - * * * * * - - GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE. - - VOL. XXXV. PHILADELPHIA, SEPTEMBER, 1849. NO. 3. - - * * * * * - - - - - GENERAL TRAINING. - - - BY ALFRED B. STREET. - - -There were three events which we used to look forward to at the approach -of summer with a great deal of interest. These were the Fourth of July, -General Training and Camp Meeting. The denizens of a city can hardly -understand the pleasure with which the inhabitants of a secluded village -hail any thing out of the usual quiet routine of existence. Consequently -they would be likely to stare at the very idea of any one who was old -enough to drive fast trotters, attend cock-fights, shoot balls over -billiard-tables, and dance the polka, attaching any importance to such -ordinary if not “decidedly vulgar” matters. But with all due deference -to the dandies, I must still reiterate that we thought these three -things of much consequence, and entitled to the place of events in our -simple village calendar. The Fourth of July was a great affair, inasmuch -as it was not only great in itself, but it opened as it were the gates -of the decided summer, letting in upon us those long delicious hours -when the sun’s eye begins to glance through its cloud lashes at three in -the morning, and shoots up its light to wink and glimmer until nine in -the evening. Camp Meeting was also very important—inherently of -course—and also as coming as it did in October, it shut those same -summer portals, and reminded us of the occasional pretence of Jack -Frost, that jackall of winter, who comes prowling amidst our gardens -some time before the stern roar of the old lion is heard. But General -Training occurring in August, sandwiched between the two—the -summit-level, so to speak, of the season—the acme—the apex—was, on -the whole, the greatest event of the three. It was coupled with nothing -else, either as herald of bright days, or reminder that those days were -past. It had neither the brilliance of hope nor the fragrance of memory. -It was therefore self-sustained—it shone by its own light. And full of -the elements of enjoyment was it. So much bustle and noise—such -rattle-te-bang topsy-turvy scenes—such unloosing of the elements of -fun—such odd admixtures and jumblings together of objects, all broadly -picturesque and ludicrous, did the day present, that no wonder it -created such a sensation in our usually quiet and well behaved village. - -As the contrast last hinted at constituted one of its charms to me, I -will commence by sketching the appearance of the village the evening -before. - -We will suppose the time to be about six o’clock, P. M. in the last week -of August. The sun is about an hour and a half high, and is beginning to -throw out rays of the richest and at the same time the softest splendor. -A broad beam, like a golden vista, strikes Rumsey’s house on the hill -right along the toes, thence, darting a blow athwart the breast of -Fairchild’s domicil, it hits St. John’s store right in the abdomen, and -then sinks down the slope of the street. This is on one side of the -village. On the other, a second beam comes along in a sort of stealthy, -zigzag manner, being broken by a row of trees, until, blazes! it pitches -into the two lower eyes of Coit’s dingy edifice so violently as to make -them flash again. After this feat, it laughs along the verge of the -village green, making it wear an edging of gold, and then paints the -black picture of the mail-coach before Hamble’s door in such grotesque -proportions as to send the head of one horse poking into the middle of -the street, and his tail streaming into Cady’s store. And not only this, -but the beam sketches the figure of Hamble himself coming from “Saint’s -store,” with a bottle of “sour wine” for his bar, in one hand, and a -white pitcher brimming with the cool nectar from the “corner well” in -the other. - -Would you believe it? these were the only objects visible in the street. -How all the inhabitants had contrived to withhold themselves from sight -in this mellow sunset I cannot imagine. But such was the fact. The -houses stood protruding their noses of porches at those opposite, and -peering into one another’s eyes, with their dark wigs cutting against -the soft amber sky—the trees were whispering soft things to one another -in a gentle breeze stirring, each one moving its thousand lips so -delicately that the sunlight which was kissing them seemed trembling -with rapture—in short, an air of quiet solitude brooded over the whole -place. - -By and by the quick rattle of wheels struck upon my ear, and looking in -the direction of the sound, I saw a two-horse wagon coming furiously -down the street with a collection of white, red, and black plumes, with -bayonets and gun-barrels glistening above, and a great blue standard -fluttering over the whole. A strain of martial music simultaneously -struck up from amongst the warlike array, which array to my nearer -vision, resolved itself into a dozen men, “armed and equipped as the law -directs,” including a fifer, who was lengthening his visage into a -puckered whistle upon his little yellow tube, a drummer, who was -entangling his sticks in the loudest manner on the sounding sheep-skin, -and a bass-drum player, who had hung his huge instrument, like a great -barrel, at the end of the wagon, and who, being a little the worse for -liquor, (shown by constant lurches,) came down upon the quivering -circles each side with prodigious vigor at precisely the wrong times, -thereby breaking up and almost overpowering the tune by an irregular -succession of boom—boom—boom-boom-booms. - -As the wagon pulled up with an emphasis at Wiggins’s, three huzzas rent -the air from the occupants, a dozen shots, in which were mingled the -round, deep tone of the musket, and the short, peevish crack of the ride -succeeded—and the “sodgers” bounded upon the stoop, streamed into the -bar-room, calling for “liquor,” and lo! the “premonitory symptoms” of -General Training. - -After this temporary ripple in the current, the village again settled -down into its customary quiet. The sun disappeared—the golden glow -crept up the western sky as if to greet the “hunter’s moon,” that looked -in the sweet twilight like an orb of pearl, becoming, however, -momentarily brighter, like the hope of a holy heart as the night of the -grave approaches. And soon the gold was chased down by the silver, and -the beautiful moonlight lay as if it was tangible sleep upon the -village. - -About ten o’clock I took one of my solitary walks along the single -street. Nothing could be more silent and solitary. The soft yet splendid -sheen streamed down upon the roof, and whilst the dwellings upon one -side of the spacious thoroughfare were bathed in lovely light, those -opposite were lying in the deepest blackness. The tricks of the -moonlight were various. The old weather streaked Court-House looked as -white and new as the smart Presbyterian “Meeting-House” just erected, -whilst its belfry (so open that it seemed as if it would ring its own -bell when the wind blew) cocked itself up with a pert air, like the -upturned nose of a conceited man, and the red pimple of a clerk’s office -between both Court and Meeting-House, looked redder than ever. Hamble’s -rough stone wall was sleeked over very prettily, sending out from its -summit gleams of light like silver flashes—the white chips about his -wood-shed were like patches of snow—the shadow of a log, with an axe -struck into it, seemed like a black pump lying prostrate—the shrubbery -in the little enclosure along the side of the tavern, sparkled out into -a million of eyes—the sign, with the red coach upon it, going so fast -that its wheels were nothing but spokes, and the horses so fierce that -they were galloping right up into the air, looked bright as a new -button, whilst the broad village green seemed like an expanse of (if I -may use the expression) solidified light. I turned to pursue my walk. -The fluted pillars of St. John’s store looked “good enough to eat,” as a -rather matter-of-fact girl once observed to me in a moonlight walk, and -the “corner well,” with its long arm of a pole reared over its head, and -its bucket tucked down at its front, seemed as if it had just drank and -had put down its glass. I still made my way up the street. Not a single -person abroad, not a light to be seen—it appeared as if the whole -village had grown out, as it were, of the quiet and beautiful light that -lay so broadly upon it. Tired at last of being the only watcher in the -silent village, I retraced my steps, and (to speak vulgarly) “went to -bed.” - -I was awakened by martial music in full blast. I dressed myself and -sallied out. A broad beam of the newly risen sun had settled like a -yellow pool just in front of Wiggins’s tavern, and standing within it, -were the three worthies who had awakened the Monticello echoes the -evening before with their music from the wagon. The fifer was again -spitting his breath most industriously into his “whistle,” as the boys -called it, and keeping time with his foot, the drummer, who had a way of -looking down upon his drum, and working his mouth to the motion of his -sticks, was sending out his rattling tones by his side, and facing the -two, with his shoulders drawn back, and supporting his instrument on his -breast, the bass-drummer was bringing down his leathered knobs this time -to the music, (he had only had two morning bitters, so Wiggins said,) -but with such a terrific noise as to make even himself wince at every -stroke. - -There was quite a collection of men around the “musicianers;” several -with brown cartridge-boxes and bayonet-sheaths, and one or two with gilt -eagles in their hats, and plumes of white feathers, whilst one fellow -was equipped with an old straw hat, the rim of which was shorn away at -his forehead—a red flannel shirt, linsey-woolsey pantaloons, and a -long, heavy rifle on his shoulder. This genius was fairly wrapped up in -the music. He was evidently enchanted. Now he would listen with his -mouth wide open, then he would look around the group and nod, as if to -say, “_isn’t_ that fine!” and then he would give birth to laughter, as -though he couldn’t restrain himself any longer for the life of him. - -Interspersed amidst this group were many of the village boys, edging -their way at every practicable point nearer the musicians. One -youngster, ragged as a saw, had succeeded in placing himself by the -tenor drum, and was looking at the double performance of mouth and -sticks, with the greatest admiration, whilst another, with open elbows -and slouched hat, which was only prevented by a bulge in front from -sliding entirely over his dirty face, was peering up into the twitching -countenance of the bass-drummer, standing the thunder of the blows with -all the nonchalance of a real veteran. - -My attention was now, however, attracted toward the genius with the -rifle, by his giving birth to a loud shout. Inflamed beyond bounds by -the music which was now on a rattling quick-step, the red flanneled -gentleman now made a spring in the air, and then dashed out into a “heel -and toe” dance, flourishing his rifle as if it had been a walking-stick, -now over his head, and now on each side of him, and making every thing -fairly echo with his loud and frequent whoops. He at length became the -lodestone of all eyes, except those of the musicians, fairly driving -these worthies in the most ungrateful manner (they being the source of -his inspiration) into the shade; becoming, as it were, the centre of a -circle of grinning faces, until completely tired out with his exertions, -he broke away, ascended the tavern stoop, and the next moment made the -bar-room ring with his vociferation for “a small pull of some of the -real grit!” - -By and by the “trainers” began to appear at all points, some in groups, -some singly, some by wagon loads. And one wagon came in so filled with -bristling muskets, that it had the appearance of a huge steel porcupine. - -The population of the surrounding country, men, women and children, -commenced streaming in to gaze upon “the show,” and make merry amongst -themselves. A number also of the surrounding farmers and their wives -came as venders of pies, cake, small beer, cider, etc., turning their -wagons into shops, wheeling them under the shadows of the trees, -detaching the horses, flinging at the same time quantities of hay before -them, and covering the seats of the wagons with cards of yellow -gingerbread, mingled with pies, carved generally into quarters, and -cider barrels at the ends, with faucets resembling hooked noses. Others -again had erected booths of rough boards or hemlock boughs filled with -articles of consumption. I looked at one for a few moments which Aunt -Betsy Lossing had (as usual) erected. - -It was composed of hemlock boards, with branches of the same tree. A -rude counter had been placed athwart the entrance, behind which appeared -Betsy’s red face and burly form, together with a boy and girl as -assistants. Upon shelves were rows of casks lettered gin, brandy, -whisky, etc.; on the highest shelf were two or three boxes of cigars, a -dozen thick glass tumblers, and a small box of lemons, whilst below all, -two barrels of cider (probably) looked out dimly from the shadow. The -sunshine streamed richly in, lighting the lemons brilliantly, giving to -the cigars a warm tint of brown, flashing upon the gilt letters of the -casks, dancing on the glasses, and only failing to penetrate the recess -where the barrels lay on their stomachs. - -Still did the soldiery and country people stream in. By this time -several pedlers had established their box wagons upon the grassy margins -of the broad village street, and were as clamorous in their vocations as -crows around a carrion. - -The village was now a scene of active, noisy, bustling life. I amused -myself for a short time by examining in detail the human current that -flowed past my office steps. Now passed a pair of country lovers, the -girl in the act of biting off a huge piece of mince pie, whilst the “he” -was industriously engaged in puffing at a great black cigar, giving his -rosy-cheeked sweetheart the benefit of the smoke gratis. Next a little -rustic maiden alone, all beflowered and beribboned like a walking -milliner shop; then a young woodsman, who had scarcely ever emerged from -the forest before, but who had “left the saw-mill to-day to go a -trainen,” sauntered past with his rusty old musket (which doubtless did -service at Minisink in “granddaddy’s” hands) horizontal upon his -shoulder; then a rough-looking check-shirted hunter, with his rifle in -his grasp, and then a bumpkin from “Strong’s Settlement,” with his hands -deep in his pockets, his “limpsey” hat upon one side of his head, minus -half the crown and the whole of the rim, and opening his gray eyes so -wide as fairly to pull his mouth open. - -Succeeding this interesting specimen of humanity, minced along a -youthful, undersized soldier, in an old blue artillery coat, made in the -Revolution, the red-striped skirts striking his heels, the breast down -to his hips, and the sleeves tucked up nearly to the elbows; and next -strode a brawny hero, who crowded himself into a gray cavalry jacket, -with its shadow of a skirt cocked up behind like the brush of a deer, -and the breasts shrinking away nearly under his arms. - -“I say there, hadn’t you two fellers better swap?” shouted a pedler from -his box as the twain passed. - -“Darn me,” added he, in an under tone, as they went regardless along, -“if one of them are chaps don’t look loose enuff to run out of his coat -like this ere old woman’s cider, whilst that are other crittur is -screwed up so tight that he’ll sartenly bust up afore long. However it’s -their business, not mine. HERE’S a lot of fine spoons! no Garman silver -about _them_. Come, roll up, tumble up, any way to get up—come, give us -a bid!” etc. etc. - -The rolling of drums now announced that the time for the mustering of -the different companies composing the regiment (the bloody 185th) had -arrived. Lines of soldiers were soon seen scattered along the street, -and the loud voices of the sergeants calling the roll were heard. There -were two uniform companies attached to the regiment, beside “the troop,” -or light-horse company, viz., the artillery and rifle. The dress of the -former was a blue jacket, with red tufts on the shoulders, and caps with -red tufts in front, whilst that of the latter was a green hunting shirt -fringed with black, with black plumes in their hats. The cavalry company -were dressed in red coats faced and cuffed with black velvet. The rest -of the regiment were clothed, some in odd uniforms, others in their -every-day clothing, and presented a strange and motley array of colors -and accoutrements. - -The preliminaries being gone through, the arduous duty of forming the -companies into line was now to be accomplished. A great stir was at this -instant discernible amongst the crowd before Wiggins’s steps, and -shortly I observed the figures of several officers waving and glittering -with feathers and tinsel rising above the surface of heads as they -mounted their prancing steeds. Spurring them through the throng, they -succeeded after a while in clearing a long space and extending the -breadth of the village street. The word was then given to form the line, -and amidst the loud orders of the officers I could see the different -squads arranging themselves into marching order. A few minutes elapsed, -and then arose a din sufficient to drive one crazy, and yet of the most -ludicrous character. Each company was furnished with its own drum and -fife, and, in some instances, bass-drum and cymbals. The three or four -companies near me commenced marching in columns at nearly the same -moment, their respective bands striking up at the same time, each -playing its own tune. The effect was laughable in the highest degree. -“Hail Columbia” had its slow heels tripped up completely by the -_pirouettes_ of “Yankee Doodle;” the “Girl I Left Behind Me” and -“Miller’s Quick Step,” locked themselves together in a perfect wrestling -match, first one down, then the other—now a bar struggling -convulsively, then a strain nearly throttled; then high and low notes, -tug and tug, heard alternately, the whole at last mingling itself up -into the strangest entanglement possible—a maelstrom, so to speak, of -whirling music. A bass-drum would thunder down, breaking the back at a -stroke of a long roll proceeding from a tenor one near by, whilst -another of the latter species would rub-a-dub right into a pair of -cymbals, and scatter their silver clashings into an entire route. New -tunes would be constantly arriving as the distant companies came -marching up to give fresh life to the wrangling discord, whilst to add -to the uproar, the whole pack of pedlers, amounting to nearly a dozen, -had given tongue at the first hurly-burly of the music, bursting out, as -it were, in full cry. “_Here’s_ your fine penknives, all a going at -onst,” shouted a tall, ram-rod looking fellow, with a knob of a hat, and -a nose that seemed stretching out on purpose to scent a good bargain. -“Walk up, ladies and gentlemen,” bawled another, with a white broad-brim -so weak and slouchy as to look as if about to faint away off his head. -“How much for this splendid necklace!” yelled another, in a higher key, -with the rim of his beaver cocked fiercely in front, and with a patch in -the back of his coat, as though he had an eye there to look after his -articles in that direction. “Come, gentlemen, can’t wait, onst, twice! -wont you say sixpence more!” said a fourth, sinking from a shout -gradually down to a coaxing whine, whilst a fifth, with straight, black -hair and saturnine complexion, giving him quite a sanctimonious look, -let his tongue run on in chase of “a penny, a penny, a penny, a penny,” -with the perseverance of a bloodhound. - -Elevated on one of the wagons was a member of the light-horse company. -He had taken the post as a matter of joke, and was now holding up the -different articles for sale with a merry smile on his face, and every -now and then winking to the crowd as if to remind them what a capital -jest his being there was. The pedler himself in the meanwhile, with an -apple of a face perched upon a bean-pole of a form, was with great -_nonchalance_ seated upon his box, evidently quite content that the -light-horseman should do the work, and he sit by and receive the -profits. So exciting and pleasant did the soldier find his self-imposed -task, so elated by the possession of this new accomplishment, which had -remained undeveloped even to himself until now, and so intoxicated with -the flattery which the laughter of the throng at his jokes offered, that -he continued there all day, incurring a fine for non-attendance at the -parade. - -At the next “General Training” I saw the same fellow. Turned topsy-turvy -by his success, he had abandoned his farm and “took to peddlen” on his -own hook. But what a difference. Interested now in the occupation -personally, and having the “keenest sort” of an eye to the profits, his -selling was no longer a joke. The merry glance was replaced by a look of -care, his dashing, off-hand manner was exchanged for an eager, -beseeching air, his jokes were few and evidently forced; in short, in -making his amusement his trade, he had made himself a very poor pedler. - -What became of him I don’t know, but I heard casually once that he had -after a while betaken himself again to his little farm, (which he had -mortgaged to obtain his fitting out as a pedler,) quite broken-spirited -and out at elbows. - -Foremost in the tempest of martial music, towering, as it were, the very -genius of the scene, was Joe Lippett. Joe was a capital hand at a fife, -his long chin serving as a resting-place for the instrument. He was -therefore engaged to play for half a dozen companies. It was a sight to -see him. Marching forward with immense strides, his puckered lips and -promontory-like chin forming a deep nook into which his fife was thrust, -he sent forth his piercing notes like a north-wester. After escorting a -company “into line,” he would vanish, and in a minute would be seen at -the head of another, blowing away like Tophet, and after performing the -same service to it, _presto!_ his shrill music would be heard, and his -legs and chin seen coming from a different quarter. - -At last, after great exertions, involving vast displays of horsemanship, -and large, particularly guttural, words of command, continual risings in -their stirrups, and occasional looks of deep ferocity, the junior -officers of the day succeeded in getting the regiment into line, as it -is called in military parlance, but in fact into a curve, as the middle -sagged a good deal inward. Still it presented something of a front, and -along it the young officers went into violent spasms of dexterous -riding, spurring their horses and curbing them tightly at the same time, -thus causing them to advance backward, as it were, and perform feats -with their hoofs, somewhat dangerous to the pie-eating and -cider-drinking spectators. - -At length I discovered the cause of this great display by the youthful -gods of war, by happening to observe them glancing at the windows -opposite, where I discovered their dulcineas looking at the whole affair -with immense interest. - -It was amusing to note the various aspects of the soldiers composing the -line. One had a nose like a triangle, another as if an oblong piece of -dough had hit him in the face, and had clung there; the next had a -little pair of eyes flying about as if anxious to hide away in their -sockets, whilst the next appeared so determined to stare with his great -goggle eyes that he seemed to suppose to wink would be time wasted. Here -was a mouth with the corners turned up into a sculptured grin; there was -another turned down, as if with a perpetual colic. Here were cheeks -rounded out as if blowing a trumpet, whilst there were others so fallen -in, that they seemed glued to their side teeth. In short, there was no -end to the differences in the physiognomies of the “citizen soldiery,” -as that patriotic and intellectual portion of our people, the -politicians, (those particularly who wish to go to the “legislater,”) -term them. - -A file of men was now detached for the standard of the regiment—a great -blue thing, as large nearly as a ship’s top-sail. The men were paraded -in front of the tavern steps—the standard appeared on the stoop—a -flourish of drum and fife—the standard waved, then descended, and borne -by little Billy Waddle, went gayly to its appointed place under the -inspiriting influence of a favorite quick step. - -The reception of the colonel was now also gone through, and he rode in -very stiff dignity, with his legs sticking out on each side of his -steed, very much like a pair of open compasses, toward the line, with -his peacock tail of a staff trailing behind him. Taking, then, his -station, with his horse (tickled constantly by the spur) making uneasy -motions, as if itching all over, he gave utterance to a few shouts, made -hoarse for the occasion, which were followed by convulsions of carrying, -presenting, and supporting arms, on the part of the soldiers, some -together, and some not, just as it happened. Preparations were then made -for the march to the village-green, where the exercises of the day were -to take place. The music was all collected in front, and the order was -given to wheel into platoons. Each man performed this manœuvre at his -own time and “on his own responsibility,” and consequently such a -fluttering took place as to throw the whole scene into confusion. The -feat was, however, at last performed, the drums began to mark time—the -men ditto, (after a fashion,) and the order from the colonel was, “by -platoons, march!” the last word uttered with most tremendous emphasis. -The order was taken up and sent along from company to company in every -variety of tone, from a growl to a squeak, ending at last like a faint -echo at the extremity of the array. The whole regiment then moved, the -drums still keeping up their preliminary tapping. At length the music -burst out into a terrific explosion of sound, and onward marched the -martial pageant. The sight was ludicrous enough. Some had started with -the right foot foremost, and were entangling their legs in the most -unjustifiable way, with those of their neighbors, endeavoring to change -to the left foot; some, owing to the extreme tightness of their belts, -(these were principally in the uniform companies,) hitched along as if -their hips went on rusty hinges, and others, owing either to the want of -a musical ear, or recklessness, sauntered along in their natural gait, -which didn’t happen to suit the air, and consequently carried disorder -along the whole rank. In the former class was a little irascible-looking -fellow, who, starting the wrong way and endeavoring to get right, and -who being met in his efforts at precisely the wrong times by a lank -genius next him, kept hopping testily from one foot to the other, whilst -his companion did the same at alternate moments, until the legs of both -went backward and forward like a quick cat’s-cradle. On swept the array, -the colonel looking sterner than forty Napoleons on a field of battle. -Conspicuous in the front rank of “the music” was Joe Lippett, chinning -his fife, whilst amidst a row of drums came my friend with the red -feather, working his mouth in the most emphatic manner, and looking down -upon his instrument as if he thought that the withdrawal of his eyes -would cause an instant paralysis of his sticks. - -Then followed the artillery and rifle companies, and in the midst of the -regiment, who should appear but little Billy Waddle, staggering up under -the enormous regimental standard. Billy, in being the bearer of the -silken honor, had allowed his ambition to run away with his discretion. -He was evidently supplying his strength from the very depths of his -despair, humoring in a variety of ways the blue flaunting tyrant which -held him completely under control, bracing against its frequent lurches -with efforts that made him grin like a death’s-head, and struggling up -convulsively as it plunged downward with pitchings and totterings worthy -an animal afflicted with the blind staggers. - -With wonderful efforts, however, he continued to keep the flag somewhat -in order, until he arrived opposite my office. A beautiful basswood was -growing there, on the outer verge of the side-walk, and spreading its -broad branches considerably over the street. The regiment swept -underneath these branches in its progress upward to the village-green. -Billy saw the impediment and lowered his standard. He did it, however, -with such quick effort, that he lost all control over its descending -weight, which pitched the luckless manikin forward so irresistibly that -the steel points of the staff struck with somewhat of an emphasis right -into the calf of Jim Thompson’s leg, who happened to be marching -directly before. Never shall I forget Jim’s hop on the occasion, or the -terrified look he cast backward. It appeared as if he thought that the -rear rank had suddenly taken it into their heads to charge bayonet upon -those in front, and that he was to be the first victim. But his look -changed as he perceived the cause, and the glance of contempt and -vexation which he shot at poor Billy, as he commenced limping along -rubbing the offended part, was ludicrous in the extreme. - -The regiment now arrived at the green, where it was to be inspected. The -Inspector was an imperturbable, square-built Dutchman, bestriding a -horse as imperturbable and donkey-like as himself. He now appeared upon -the ground, as the regiment, after performing half the circuit of the -green, was halted in the order it had marched. - -Dismounting, the inspector gravely commenced his task. Moving from man -to man, he examined the musket and other accoutrements of each, the -inspected bringing his piece to a present with a quick jerk as the -inspector presented himself, and the latter trying the lock with a sharp -click, and making the ramrod jump with a keen jingle in the barrel. -Occasionally, some piece, loaded by its wag of an owner, would explode -with a loud report as the inspector drew trigger, followed by a great -snickering and chuckling on the part of those near by, but the inspector -never relaxed his heavy muscles for a moment. Thus he went from man to -man, and rank to rank, until the whole process was completed. - -In the meanwhile the music had gathered in a cluster at a little -distance, surrounded by the boys and “loafers” of the village. Now and -then the muffled sound of a tattoo, beat upon the cords of the drum, -arose, with the comic squeak of a fife accompanied by loud laughter from -the idlers around, and sometimes a single “boom” from a blow upon the -bass-drum. - -But the inspector, having left his last man, the word “attention the -whole,” was loudly sounded, and the scene was changed in an instant. -Those who had been lounging “at ease” upon their guns, stood erect and -soldier-like—those seated upon the grass sprung to their places—the -band hurried to its station at the head, and, in a short time the whole -regiment was in marching order. - -The time had now arrived to pass in review before the colonel. With his -staff upon either hand, that redoubtable hero had now stationed himself -at the head of the green for the regiment to march past him. The command -of “march” was given, the music struck up, and the regiment moved. -Playing most obstreperously, the band passed the colonel, who sat, -chapeau in hand, and then fell upon one side. The sight now became -comic. The officers as they approached, prepared with great solemnity -and very apparent consciousness of the importance of the manœuvre, to -salute with their swords the puissant presence of the commandant, and -the “rank and file” to perform the same ceremony with their presented -guns. The first officer, who was a captain from the wilds of Lumberland, -was so taken up by the immensity of the act he was to perform, that he -forgot to perform it at all until quite past the colonel. Remembering -himself then, in his nervous hurry, he brought his sword up so quickly -to his face that he knocked his hat off, and stooping to recover it, he -received such an impetus from his front rank, who were too intent upon -their part of the performance to see any thing, that he was pitched -without ceremony, in the most headlong and sprawling manner, after his -hat. - -The next officer was but a little more fortunate. He had witnessed the -performance of his predecessor, and being nervous, was thrown into a -considerable flurry thereby. Determined not to be caught in the -predicament of delaying his manœuvre, he went to the opposite extreme. -Miscalculating his time in his agitation, and seeing the colonel’s eye -fixed upon him, he, some distance before he reached that functionary, -brought his sword up with a great flourish, and saluted. By the time he -reached the colonel, his part was, of course, performed, and the air of -sneaking and deprecating consciousness with which he slunk past was so -marked, as to cause a smile even upon the grim features of the -commandant himself. After this, things went on pretty well, until a -tall, awkward, rawboned lieutenant, who “tended saw-mill for a liven” on -the Sheldrake Brook, approached the colonel. Fixing his eyes on his -officer, he thrust his sword out horizontally, as if to charge bayonet. -Not seeing where he was going, so intent was he upon his staring, that, -meeting with some obstruction, he stumbled, pitched forward, and before -he could recover himself, he had run his sword half way into the soft -turf of the green, with the hilt striking against his breast with an -emphasis that made him gasp like a frog in an exhausting receiver. He -was the last officer, and with this interesting exhibition of soldierly -grace and dignity, the ceremony closed. The colonel clapped his chapeau -on his head, and, attended by his staff, once more took his place in the -regiment, and, after a short march, the order was given to form a -“hollow square,” for prayer and a speech from the judge advocate. After -considerable trouble the square was formed, with all the officers in the -middle. The prayer was offered by the “learned and pious” Dr. -Stubbornthought, and at the conclusion, the colonel proclaimed, in a -pompous tone, that the judge advocate would now commence his address. -Instantly this functionary spurred from the side of his superior to -perform this duty. He was an ambitious young sprig of the law, always on -the look-out for distinction, and seeking where he could make a speech -turn up with all the keenness and avidity of a hound on the track of a -deer. He was withal very irascible. With his usual ambition, he had now -selected the most fiery and run-away steed in the village, being -convinced that he was as good a horseman as he was a speaker, and that, -let me tell you, is saying a great deal. Direct upon his announcement, -as before observed, he made his way in the midst of the square, and -endeavored to settle himself in his saddle to commence his address. But -this was more difficult than he imagined. Having given a severer dig -with his spur into the side of his animal than the latter bargained for -or relished, it began to testify its anger by a series of prancings and -curvettings decidedly more ornamental than either useful or agreeable. -Grasping his bridle, however, firmly, and knowing that delay in -endeavoring to soothe his horse might ruin his speech, the youngster, -after giving birth to a loud preliminary h-e-m, commenced. - -“Fellow-soldiers, (whoe, Jim,) I appear before ye, (whoe, I say,) on -this occasion to address you briefly upon the duties of the citizen -soldiery of our country. The duty of defending our homes and firesides, -(whoe, whoe, you brute you,) our homes and firesides, (whoe, you -rascal,) homes and, (well, I never saw such a devilish creature in my -life, whoe, I say,) homes and firesides is a paramount duty. -Who—would—evade—it! Who—wou-wou-wou-wou-would, (whoe, whoe, -who-o-o-e—you most infernal of all devils,) who would sh-sh-sh-shun or -fly”—here the question bolted out at broken intervals, occasioned by -the thumping in his saddle from the prancing of his excited horse, was -to the great horror of the square, answered practically by the -questioner himself. If no body else would fly he, or rather his steed, -showed that he would. Giving a tremendous leap, Spitfire (the horse’s -name, and a capital one, too,) broke through an opening in the square -and “rattle-te-clatter,” (as Loafing Joe, in describing the scene -afterward to a knot of the village young men in Wiggins’s bar-room -said,) “the way he streaked it over the green, was nothen to nobody’s -folks. He went like a shot from a shovel past Old Cheese’s as if he was -a goen to pitch right into John P.’s donyard. But old Spitfire -catty-cornered round so quick that “little Blackberry” (the rider’s -nickname in the village, from his dark complexion,) swung sideways like -old Lummocks when he’s slewed, and then, Lordjersees Massies, if he -didn’t slap it down the turnpike in a hurry, with little Blackberry a -hold of the mane, and a grinning like a wild-cat, you may say to my face -that I’m a liar, that’s all. Howsever, Spitfire couldn’t git past -Wiggins’s, no how you can fix it, for he’s eat too many oats there, so -he gives another sheer so that little Blackberry’s right leg stuck out -like a pump-handle, and bolt he went under the shed, and brought up all -standen. Little Blackberry pitched into the manger, and the hoss began -to eat hay as if nothen had been the matter, and that, boys, is the eend -on’t. Who’s a goen to treat!” - -In the meanwhile, the regiment had been again arranged in marching -order, and with a blithesome quickstep, had left the green, swept up the -little village to its outskirts, and then turning, was now on its way -back to its starting place before Wiggins’s tavern-porch. A cloud of -dust gave token to those at the porch that the martial show was -approaching. The piercing fife—the rub-a-dub of the drum—and the deep -blows of the bass-drum, were next heard; the arms broke glistening from -the dusty cloud—down came the column with its hasty tread, and fronted -before the tavern in one long line. After a few words of command, the -magic words, “you’re dismissed,” sounded upon the air, and with a wild -hurrah, the ranks broke into scrambling confusion, and “General -Training” was ended. Wagon after wagon filled with the soldiery, rattled -away; throng after throng of those on foot hurried off by the numerous -roads leading into the adjacent country, and at sunset, the village had -once more relapsed into its customary quiet. So have we seen a pool, -shaken by a breeze, tossing its waters in confusion, and then calming -itself into its usual tranquillity, uniting the scattered fragments of -rock, tree and sky, again into the soft, reflected picture of its quiet -and beautiful mirror. - - * * * * * - - - - - TO THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. - - - BY PROFESSOR CAMPBELL. - - - Sweet little flower, - That hang’st thy fair and modest head - Beneath the shower, - And bendest o’er thy parent bed, - As mourning for thy sisters dead— - Oh! smile again—the storm has fled. - - Ah! who could break - Thy tender stem, so very fair, - So very weak— - To deck his breast, to perish there, - Beneath the coldly piercing air, - Of harsh neglect, regret, despair? - - Nay, droop not so— - No ruthless hand shall touch thee here— - No, gentlest, no— - I’ll hide thee where, devoid of fear, - Thou’lt bloom, to one lone heart most dear, - Nor ruder love than mine be near. - - And I will leave - All other cares, and steal to see, - At morn and eve, - Mine own lov’d flowret’s purity— - For I alone shall smile on thee, - And thou alone shall smile on me. - - And when thou’rt gone - And all thy sweetness buried deep, - And I alone— - Still will I in my fond heart keep - Thy memory green, and come to weep, - Where thou, my loved one, shalt sleep. - - And soon, dear flow’r, - Ah, very soon I’ll follow thee— - My little hour - Of fated life must quickly flee— - Then cold and lone my grave shall be, - Without a tear—oh! not like thee. - - * * * * * - - - - - “GOOD-NIGHT.” - - - FOUND AMONG THE PAPERS OF THE LATE WALTER HERRIES, ESQ. - - - “Good-night!” the words were spoken, and we parted, - _I_ to my lonely home, to muse on thee, - With spirit bowed and saddened, broken-hearted— - And _thou_, to dreams of joy—but not of me. - - “Good-night!” how very coldly it was spoken; - But those loved tones are lingering near me yet, - And though of tenderness they bring no token, - I would not, if I had the power, forget. - - “Good-night!” and happy, dearest, be thy morrow— - From gloom and sadness be thy future free; - Be mine alone the darkness and the sorrow— - For where _thou_ art not, all is night to me. - - * * * * * - - - - - JASPER ST. AUBYN; - - - OR THE COURSE OF PASSION. - - - BY HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT. - - - (_Continued from page 91._) - -The morning was still very young, and the sun, which was but just -beginning to rise above the brow of the eastern hill, poured his long, -yellow rays, full of a million dusty motes, in almost level lines down -the soft, green slopes, diversified by hundreds of cool purple shadows, -projected far and wide over the laughing landscape, from every tree and -bush that intercepted the mild light. - -The dews of the preceding night still clustered unexhaled, sparkling -like diamonds to the morning beams, on every leaf and flower; a soft -west wind was playing gently with the thousands of bright buds and -blossoms which decked the pleasant gardens; and the whole air was -perfumed with the delicate fragrance of the mignionette and roses, which -filled the luxuriant parterres. The hum of the reveling bees came to the -ear with a sweet domestic sound, and the rich carol of the blackbird and -the thrush came swelling from the tangled shrubberies, full fraught with -gratitude and glee. - -It was into such a scene, and among such sights and sounds, that the -young free-trader wandered forth from the tranquillity and gloom of the -sick chamber in which he had spent a sleepless night; but his mind had -been too deeply stirred by his conversation with Sir Miles St. Aubyn, -and chords of too powerful feeling had been thrilled into sudden and -painful life, to allow him to be penetrated, as he might have been in a -less agitated hour, by the sweet influences of the time and season. - -Still, though he was unconscious of the pleasant sights and sounds and -smells which surrounded him, as he strolled slowly through the bowery -walks of the old garden, they had more or less effect upon his perturbed -and bitter spirit; and his mood became gradually softer, as he mused -upon what had passed within the last hour, alone in that bright -solitude. - -Wild and impetuous and almost fierce by nature, he had brooded from his -very boyhood upward over his real and imaginary wrongs, until the iron -had so deeply pierced his soul, that he could see nothing but coldness, -and hostility, and persecution in the conduct of all around him, with -the exception of his old student uncle and his sweet Theresa. Ever -suspecting, ever anticipating injury and insult, or at least coldness -and repulsion from all with whom he was brought into contact, he -actually generated in the breasts of others the feelings which he -imputed to them all unjustly. Accusing the world of injustice or ere it -was unjust, in the end he made it to be so indeed; and then hated it, -and railed against it, for that which it had never dreamed of, but for -his own fantastic waywardness. - -It was unfortunate for Durzil, that the good man, into whose care he had -fallen, ever of a philosophical and studious, nay, even mystic -disposition, had become, since the sad fate of his beloved sister, and -the early death of a yet dearer wife, so wholly visionary, so entirely -given up to the wildest theorizing, the most abstruse and abstract -metaphysical inquiries, that no one could have been devised less fitting -for the guardian and instructor of a high-spirited, hot-headed, fiery -boy than he was. - -The consequence of this was, as it might have been expected, that -disgusted early with the strange sorts of learning which the old man -persisted in forcing into him against the grain, and discontented with -the stillness and deathlike tranquillity of all around him, the boy ran -away from his distasteful home, and shipped for the India voyage in a -free-trader, half merchantman, half-picaroon, before he had yet attained -his thirteenth year. In that wild and turbulent career, well suited to -his daring and contemptuous spirit, he had, as he himself expressed it, -become hardened and inured not to toils and sufferings only, but to -thoughts and feelings, habits and opinions, which perhaps now could -never be eradicated from his nature, of which they had become, as it -were, part and parcel. - -When he returned, well nigh a man in years, and quite a man in stature, -and perhaps more than most men in courage, resource, coolness and -audacity, old Allan, to whom he had written once or twice, apprising him -that he had adopted the sea as his home and his profession, received him -with a hearty welcome, and with few or no inquiries as to the period -during which he had been absent. - -Thereafter, he came and went as he would, unasked and unheeded. When he -was ashore, the cottage by the fords of Widecomb was his home; and his -increasing wealth—for he had prospered greatly in his adventurous -career—added materially to the comforts of old Allan’s housekeeping. -His life was, therefore, spent in strange alternations; now amid the -wildest excitement—the storm, the chase, the fierce and frantic -speculation, the perilous and desperate fight, the revelry, the triumph, -and the booty; and now, in the calmest and most peaceful solitude, amid -the sweetest pastoral scenery, and with the loveliest and most innocent -companion that ever soothed the hot and eager spirit of erring and -impetuous man, into almost woman’s softness. - -And hence it was, perhaps, that Durzil Bras-de-fer had, as it were, two -different natures—one fierce, rash, bitter, scornful, heedless of human -praise or human censure, pitiless to human sorrow, reckless of human -life, merciless, almost cruel—the other generous, and soft, and -sympathetic, and full of every good and gentle impulse. - -And it was in the latter of these only, that Theresa Allan knew him. - -It must not be supposed from what I have written, that Durzil was a -pirate, or a buccaneer—far from it. For though, at times, he and his -comrades assumed the initiative in warfare, and smote the Spaniards and -the Dutchmen, and the French unsparingly, beyond the Line, and made but -small distinction between the _meum_ and the _tuum_, especially if the -_tuum_ pertained to the stranger and the papist, still neither public -opinion, nor their own consciences condemned them—they were regarded, -as Cavendish, and Raleigh, and Drake, and Frobisher and Hawkins had -been, a reign or two before, as bold, headlong adventurers; perhaps a -little lawless, but on the whole, noble and daring men, and were -esteemed in general rather an ornament than a disgrace to their native -land. - -As men are esteemed of men, such they are very apt to be or to become; -and, having the repute of chivalrous spirit, of generosity and worth, no -less than of dauntless courage, and rare seamanship, the adventurous -free-traders of that day held themselves to be, in all respects, -gentlemen, and men of honor; and holding themselves so, for the most -part they became so. - -It was, therefore, by no means either wonderful or an exception to a -rule, that Durzil Bras-de-fer should have been such as I have described -him, awake to gentle impulses, alive to good impressions, easily subject -to the influences of the finest female society, and in no respect a -person either from his habits, his tastes, or his profession to be -rejected by men of honor, or eschewed by women of refinement. - -And now, as he followed slowly on the steps of his beautiful cousin, the -young man was more alive than usual to the higher and nobler -sensibilities of his mind. The information which he had gained -concerning his own father’s feelings, at the moment of his death, had -greatly softened him, and it began to occur to him—which was, indeed, -true—that he might have been during his whole life conjuring up -phantoms against which to do battle, and attributing thoughts and -actions to the world at large, of which the world might well be wholly -innocent. - -Up to this moment, although he had long been aware of his constantly -increasing passion for his fair cousin, he had rested content with the -mild and sisterlike affection which she had ever manifested toward him; -and, having been ever her sole companion, ever treated with most perfect -confidence and sympathy, having found her at all times charmed to greet -his return, and grieved at his departure; knowing, above all things, -that at the very worst he had no rival, and that her heart had never -been touched by any warmer passion than she felt toward himself, he had -scarcely paused to inquire even of himself, whether he was beloved in -turn, much less had he endeavored to penetrate the secrets of her heart, -or to disturb the calm tenor of her way by words or thoughts of passion. - -Now, however, the words, the questions of the old cavalier had awakened -many a doubt in his soul; and with the doubt came the desire -irrepressible to envisage his fate, to learn and ascertain, once and for -all, whether his lot was to be cast henceforth in joy or in sorrow; -whether, in a word, he was to be a wanderer and an outcast, by sea and -by land, unto his dying day, or whether this very hour was to be to him -the commencement of a new era, a new life. - -Now, as he walked forth in the beautiful calm morning, in that old, -pleasant garden, which had been the scene of so much peaceable and -innocent enjoyment, he felt himself at once a sadder and a better man -than he had ever been before; and while determined to delay no longer, -but to try his gentle cousin’s heart, he was supported by no high and -fiery hope; he seemed to have lost, he knew not how or wherefore, that -proud heaven-reaching confidence, which was wont to count all things won -while they were yet to win, still less did his heart kindle and blaze -out with that preconceived indignation at the idea of being -unappreciated or neglected, which would a few hours before have goaded -him almost to frenzy. - -I have written much of his character to little purpose, if it be not -plain that humility was the frame of mind least usual to the youthful -seaman, yet now, for once, he was humble. He had discovered, for the -first time in his life, that he had erred grossly in his estimate of -others, and was beginning to suspect that that false estimate had led -him far away from true principles, true conceptions; he was beginning, -in a word, to suspect that he was himself _less_ sinned against than -sinning; and that his was, in fact, a very much misguided and -distempered spirit. - -He clasped his brow closely with a feverish and trembling hand, as he -walked onward slowly, pondering, with his whole soul intent upon the -future and the past. He was inquiring of himself, “Does she, can she -love me?” and he could make no answer to his own passionate questioning. -While he was in this mood, bending his steps toward the favorite bower -wherein he half hoped half feared to find Theresa, a soft voice fell -upon his ear, and a light hand was laid upon his arm, as he passed the -intersection of another shady walk with that through which he was -strolling. - -“Good-morrow, Durzil,” said the young girl, merrily. “I never thought to -see you out so early in the garden; but I am glad that you are here, for -I want you. So come along with me at once, and tell me if it be not a -nest of young nightingales which I have found in the thick syringa bush -beside my arbor. Come, Durzil, don’t you hear me? Why what ails you, -that you look so sad, and move so heavily this glorious summer morning? -You are not ill, are you, dear Durzil?” - -“Dear Durzil,” he repeated, in a low, subdued tone. “_Dear_ Durzil! I -would to God that I were dear to you, Theresa—that I were dear to any -one.” - -So singular was the desponding tone in which he spoke, so strange and -unwonted was the cloud of deep depression which sat on his bold, -intelligent brow, that the young girl stared at him in amazement, almost -in alarm. - -“You are ill,” she cried, in tones of affectionate anxiety; “you must be -ill, or you would never speak so strangely, so unkindly; or is it only -that you are overdone with watching by that poor youth’s sick bed? Yet -no, no, that can never be, you who are so strong and so hardy. What is -it, dearest cousin? Tell me, what is it makes you speak so wildly—would -that you _were_ dear to me! why, if not you, _you_ and my good, kind -father, who on the face of the wide earth is dear to poor Theresa! That -you were dear to any one! You, whom my father looks upon and loves as -his own son; you, whose companions hold you as almost more than -mortal—for have I not marked the inscriptions on your sabre’s guard, -and on the telescope they gave you? You, who have saved the lives of so -many fellow mortals; you, to whom those ladies, rescued at Darien from -the bloodthirsty Spaniards, addressed such glowing words of gratitude -and love; you, cousin Durzil, _you_, who are so great, so brave, so -wise, so skillful, and above all, so generous and kind; _you_ talk of -wishing you were dear to any one! Good sooth! you must be dreaming, or -you are bewitched, gentle Durzil.” - -“If I be,” he replied with a smile, for her high spirits and gay -enthusiasm aroused him from his gloomier thoughts, and began to enkindle -brighter hopes in his bosom, “if I be, thou, Theresa, art the -enchantress who has done it.” - -“Ay! now you are more like yourself; but tell me,” she said, -caressingly, “what was it made you sad and dark but now?” - -“Only this, dear Theresa, that I am again about to leave you.” - -“To leave us—to leave us so soon and so suddenly. Why you have been -here but three little weeks, which have passed like so many days, and -when you came you said that you would stay with us till autumn. Oh, -dear! my father will be so grieved at your going. You do not know, you -do not dream how much he loves you, Durzil. He is a different person -altogether when you are at home—so much gayer, and more sociable! Oh! -wherefore must you leave us so quickly, and after so long an absence, -too, as your last? Oh, truly, it is unkind, Durzil.” - -“And you, Theresa, shall you be sorry?” - -“I will not answer you,” she replied, half petulantly, half tearfully. -“It is unkind of you to go, and doubly unkind of you to speak to me -thus. What have I done to you now, what have I ever done to you, that -you should doubt my being sorry. Are not you the only friend, the only -companion I have got in the wide world? Are you not as near and dear to -me, as if you were my own brother? Do not I love you as my brother, even -as my father loves you as his son? Ah, Durzil! if you are never less -loved than you are by poor Theresa Allan, you will ne’er need to -complain for lack of loving.” - -And she burst into tears as she ended her rapid speech; for she did not -comprehend in the least at what he was aiming, and her innocent and -artless heart was wounded by what she fancied to be a doubt of her -affection. - -“And if you feel so deeply the mere temporary absence which my -profession forces on me, Theresa, how, think you, should you feel were -that absence to be eternal?” - -“Eternal!” she exclaimed, turning very pale. “Eternal! What do you mean -by eternal?” - -“It may well be so, Theresa; and yet it rests with yourself, after all, -whether I go or not—and yet be sure of this, if I do go, I go forever.” - -“With _me_—does it rest with _me_?” she cried, joyously. “Oh! if it -rests with me, you will not go at all—you will never go any more. I am -always in terror while you are absent; and the west wind never blows, -howling as it does over these desolate bare hills, with its mournful, -moaning voice, which they say is the very sound of a spirit’s cry, but -it conjures up to my mind all dread ideas of the tremendous rush and -roar of the mountain billows upon some rock-bound leeward coast, as I -have heard you tell by the cheerful hearth; and of stranded vessels, -creaking and groaning as their huge ribs break asunder, and of corpses -weltering on the ruthless waves; oh! such dread day-dreams! If it rest -with me, go you shall not, Durzil, ever again to sea. And why should -you? You have won fame enough, and glory and wealth more than enough to -supply your wants so long as you live. Why should you go to sea again, -dear Durzil?” - -“I will _not_ go again, Theresa, if such seriously be your deliberate -desire.” - -“If such seriously be my deliberate desire!” the fair girl repeated the -words after him, with a sort of half solemn drollery. Was it the native -instinct of the female heart, betraying itself in that innocent and -artless creature, scarcely in years more than a child—the inborn, -irrepressible coquetry of the sex, foreseeing what was about to follow -from the young man’s lips, yet seeking all unconsciously to delay the -avowal, to protract the uncertainty, the excitement, or was it genuine, -unsuspecting innocence? “You are most singularly solemn,” she continued, -“this fine morning, Durzil, wondrously serious and deliberate; and so, -as you are so precise, I must, I suppose, answer you likewise in due set -form. Of course, it is my desire to have the company of one whom I -esteem and love, of one to whom I look up for countenance and -protection, of my only relative on earth, except my dear old father, as -much as I can have it, with due regard to his interests and well-being. -My father is getting very old, too, and infirm; and at times I fancy -that his mind wanders. I cannot fail, therefore, to perceive that he -needs a more able and energetic person near him than I am. I can, -moreover, see no good cause why you should persist in following so -perilous and stormy a profession, unless it be that you love it. -Therefore, as I have said, of _course_, if it rest with me to detain -you, I would do so—but always under this proviso, that it were with -your own good will; for I confess, dear Durzil, that I fear, if you were -detained against your wish, if you still pant for the strong excitement, -the stormy rapture, as I have heard you call it, of the chase, the -battle, and the tempest, you never could be happy here, whatever we -might do to please you. Now, Durzil, seriously and deliberately, you are -answered.” - -“I could be happy here. I am weary of agitation and excitement. I feel -that I have erred—that the path I have taken leads not to happiness. I -want tranquillity, repose of the heart, above all things—love!” - -“Then do not go—then I say positively, Durzil, dear Durzil, stay with -us—you can find all these here.” - -“Are you sure—all of them?” - -“Sure? Why, if not here in this delicious, pastoral, simple country, in -this dear cottage, with its lovely garden and calm waters, where in the -world should you find tranquillity, if not here, in the midst of your -best friends, in the bosom of your own family, where should you look for -love?” - -“Theresa, there be more kinds of love than one—and that I crave is not -cold, duteous, family affection.” - -Now, for the first time, it seemed that the young man’s meaning broke -clearly upon her mind; now a sudden and bright illumination burst upon -all that seemed strange and wild and inconsistent in his conduct, in his -speech, in his very silence. Unsuspected before, it was now evident to -her at once that deep, overmastering passion was the cause to which she -must refer all that had been for some time past to her an -incomprehensible enigma in her cousin’s demeanor. - -And now that she was assured, for the first time in her life, that she -was really, deeply, ardently beloved—not as a pretty, childish -playmate, not as an amiable and dear relative, but as herself, for -herself, a lovable and lovely woman, how did the maiden’s heart respond -to the great revelation? - -Elevated on the instant from the girl to the woman, a strange and -thrilling sense, a sort of moral shock affected her whole system—was it -of pleasure or of pain? - -It has been often said, and I presume said truly, that no woman—no, not -the best and purest, the most modest and considerate of their sex—ever -receive a declaration of love from any man, even if the man himself be -distasteful to her, even if the love he proffer be illicit and -dishonest, without a secret and instinctive sense of high gratification, -a consciousness of power, of triumph, a pride in the homage paid to her -charms, a sort of gratitude for the tribute rendered to her sex’s -loveliness. She may, and will, repulse the dishonorable love with scorn -and loathing, yet still, though she may spurn the worthless offering, -and heap reproach upon the daring offerer, still she will be half -pleased by the offer—if it be only that she has had the power, the -pleasure—for all power is pleasure—of rejecting it. She may, and will, -gently, considerately, sympathetically decline the honest offers of a -pure love which she cannot reciprocate or value as it should be valued; -but even if he who made the tender be repulsive, almost odious, still -she must be gratified, perhaps almost grateful for that which he has -done. - -To a young girl more especially, just bursting from the bud into the -bloom of young womanhood, scarce conscious yet that she is a woman, -scarcely awake to the sense of her own powers, her own passions—a -creature full of vague, shadowy, mysterious fancies, strange -uncomprehended thoughts, and half perceived desires, there is—there -must be something of wondrous influence, of indescribable excitement in -the receiving a first declaration. - -And so it was with Theresa Allan. She was, in truth, no angel—for -angels are not to be met with in the daily walks of this world—she was, -indeed, neither more nor less than a mere mortal woman, mortal in all -the imperfection, and narrowness, and feebleness, and inability to rise -even to the height of its own best aspirations, which are peculiar to -mortality—woman in all the frailty and vanity and variety, no less than -in all the tenderness, the truth, the constancy, the loveliness, the -sweetness of true womanhood. She was, in a word, just what a great -modern poet has described in those sweet lines, - - “A creature not too bright or good - For human nature’s daily food; - For transient sorrows, simple wiles, - Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.” - -and no one who is a true judge of human, and yet more of woman nature -will regret that she was such; for he must be a poor judge indeed, he -must know little of the real character of womanhood, who does not feel -that one half of her best influences, one half of her sweetest power of -charming, soothing, controling, winding herself about the very -heart-strings, arises from her very imperfections. Take from her these, -and what she might then be we know not, but she would not be woman, and -until the world has seen something better and more endearing, until a -wiser artificer can be found than HE who made her, even as she is, a -help meet for man—away with your abstractions! give her to us as she -is, at least if not perfect, the best and brightest of created things—a -very, very woman. - -She heard his words, she felt his meaning, yet the sense of the words -seemed to be lost, the very sounds rang in her ears dizzily, her breath -came so painfully that she almost fancied she was choking, the earth -appeared to shake under her feet, and every thing around her to wheel -drunkenly to and fro. - -She pressed one hand upon her heart, and caught her cousin’s arm with -the other to support herself. Her whole face, which a moment before had -been alive and radiant with the warm hues of happiness and youth, became -as white as marble. Her very lips were bloodless; her whole frame -trembled as if she had an ague fit. - -He gazed on her in wonder, almost in terror. For a moment he thought -that she was about to faint, almost to die; and so violent, in truth, -was the affection of her nerves, that, had she not been relieved by a -sudden passion of tears, it is doubtful what might have been the result. - -They were standing when Durzil Bras-de-fer uttered the words which had -wrought so singular a change in Theresa’s manner, within a pace or two -of the sylvan bower, of which she had spoken, and without a moment’s -pause, or a syllable uttered, he hurried her into its quiet recess, and -placing her gently on the mossy seat within, knelt down at her feet, -holding her left hand in his own, and gazing up anxiously in her face. - -He was amazed—he was alarmed. Not for himself alone, not from the -selfish fear of losing what he most prized on earth—but for her. - -He knew not, indeed, whether that strange and almost terrible revulsion -arose from pleasure or from pain. He knew not, could not even conjecture -whether it boded good or evil to his hopes, to his happiness. But the -scales had fallen from his eyes in an instant. He had discovered now, -what her old father, recognizing genius with the intuitive second-sight -of kindred genius, had perceived long before that this young, artless, -inexperienced, child-like girl, was, indeed, a creature wonderfully and -fearfully made. - -He had never before suspected that beneath that calm, gentle, tranquil, -unexciteable exterior there beat a heart, there thrilled a soul full of -the strongest capabilities, the most earnest aspirations, the most -intense imaginings, that ever were awakened by the magic touch of love, -into those overwhelming passions, which can tend to middle state, but -must lead to the perfect happiness or utter misery of their possessor. - -But he saw it, he knew it now; and he felt that so soon as the present -paroxysm should pass over, she too would feel and know all this -likewise. Whether for good or for evil, for weal or for wo, he perceived -that he had unlocked for her whom he truly and singly loved, the -hitherto sealed fountain of knowledge. - -And he almost shuddered at the thought of what he had done—he almost -wished that he had stifled his own wishes, sacrificed his own hopes. - -For though impetuous and impulsive, though in some degree warped and -perverted, he was not selfish. And when he observed the terrible power -which his words had produced upon her, and judged thence of the -character and temper of her mind and intellect, a sad suspicion fell -upon him that hers was one of those over delicate temperaments, one of -those spirits too rarely endowed, too sensitively constituted ever to -know again, when once awakened to self-consciousness, that quietude in -which alone lies true happiness. - -Several minutes passed before a word was spoken by either. But gradually -the color returned to her lips, to her checks, and the light relumed her -beautiful blue eyes, and the tremor passed away from her slight frame; -but her face continued motionless, and so calm that its gravity almost -amounted to severity. It was not altogether melancholy, it was not at -all anger, but it was, what in a harder and less youthful face would -have been sternness. Never before had he seen such an expression on any -human face—never, assuredly, had hers worn it before. It was the -awakening of a new spirit—the consciousness of a new power—the first -struggling into life of a great purpose. - -Her hand lay passive in his grasp, yet he could feel the pulses -throbbing to the very tips of those small, rosy fingers, so strongly and -tumultuously, that he could not reconcile such evidence of her quick and -lively feeling with the fixed tranquillity of the eye which was bent -upon his own, with the rigidity of the marble brow. - -At length, and contrary to what is wont to happen, it was he who first -broke silence. - -“Theresa,” he said, “I have grieved—I have pained—perhaps offended -you.” - -And then she started, as his voice smote her ears, so complete had been -the abstraction of her mind, and recovering all her faculties and -readiness of mind on the instant, - -“Yes, Durzil,” she said, very sweetly, but very sorrowfully, “you have -grieved me, you have pained me, very, very deeply; but oh, do not -imagine that you have offended—that you could offend me. No; you have -torn away too suddenly, too roughly, the veil that covered my eyes and -my heart. You have awakened thoughts, and feelings, and perceptions in -my soul, of whose existence I never dreamed before. You have made me -know myself as it were, better within the last few minutes than I ever -knew myself before. It seems to me, that I have lived longer and felt -more, since we have sat here together, than in all the years I can count -before. And, oh, my heart! my heart! I am most unhappy.” - -“You cannot love me, then, Theresa,” he said, tranquilly; for he had -vast self-control, and he was too much of a man to suffer his own -agitation or distress to agitate or distress her further. “You cannot -love me as I would be loved by you—you cannot be mine.” - -“Durzil,” she said, in tones full of the deepest emotion, “until the -moment in which you spoke to me, I never thought of love, I never -dreamed or imagined to myself what it should be, other than the love I -bear to my father, to you, to all that is kind, and good, and beautiful -in humanity or in nature. But your words, I know not how nor wherefore, -have awakened me, as it were, into a strange sort of knowledge. I do -_not_ love, I almost hope that I never may love, as you would wish me to -love you; but I do feel _now_ that I know what such love should be; and -I tremble at the knowledge. I feel that it would be too strong, too full -of fear, of anxiety, of agony, to allow of happiness. Oh, no, no! -Durzil, do not ask me, do not wish me to love you so; pray, rather pray -for me to God rather, that I may never love at all—for so surely as I -do love, I know that I shall be a wretched, wretched woman!” - -That was a strange scene, and it passed between a strange pair. Great -influences had been at work in the minds of both within the last few -hours, and it would have been very difficult to say in which the -greatest change had been wrought. - -In her, the tranquil, innocent, unconscious girl had been aroused into -the powerful, passionate, thoughtful woman. A knowledge of that whereof -she had been most ignorant before “her glassy essence” had awakened her, -as the breeze awakens the lake from repose into power. - -In him, the violent, hot-headed, stubborn, and impetuous man of action -had been tamed down by a conversion almost as sudden and convincing into -the slow, self-controlled, self-denying man of counsel. As the discovery -of power had aroused her into life, so had the discovery of long -cherished, long injurious error, tamed him into tranquillity. - -One day ago he would have raved furiously, or brooded sullenly and -darkly over her words. Now, even with the fit of passion all puissant -over him, with the wild heat of love burning within his breast, with the -keen sense of disappointment wringing him, he had yet force of temper to -control himself, nay, more, he had force of mind enough to see and -apprehend, that _this_ Theresa, was no longer the Theresa whom he loved; -and that, although he still adored her, it was impossible either for him -to meet the aspirations of her glowing and inspired genius, or for her -to be to him what he had dreamed of, the tranquillizing, soothing spirit -which should pour balm upon his wounded, restless, irritable -feelings—the wife, whose first, best gift to him should be repose and -tranquillity of soul. - -He pressed her hand tenderly, and said, as he might have done to a dear -sister, - -“I have been to blame, Theresa. I have given you pain, rashly, but not -wantonly. Forgive me, for you are the last person in the world to whom I -would give even a moment’s uneasiness. I did not suspect this, dear -little girl. I did not dream that you were so nervous, or moved so -easily; but you must not yield to such feelings—such impulses, for it -is only by yielding to them that they will gain power over you, and make -you, indeed, an unhappy woman. You shall see, Theresa, how patiently I -will bear my disappointment—for that it is a disappointment, and a very -bitter one, I shall not deny—and how I will be happy in spite of it, -and all for love of you. And in return, Theresa, if you love poor -Durzil, as you say you do, as your true friend and your brother, you -will control these foolish fancies of your little head, which you -imagine to be feelings of your heart, and I shall one day, I doubt not, -have the pleasure of seeing you not only a very happy woman, but a very -happy wife.” - -“Oh, you are good, Durzil,” she said, tearfully and gently. “Oh, you are -very good and noble. Why—why cannot I—” and she interrupted herself -suddenly, and covering her eyes with both her hands, wept silently and -softly for several minutes. And he spoke not to her the while, nor even -sought to soothe, for he well knew that tears were the best solace to an -over-wrought over-excited spirit. - -After a little while, as he expected, she recovered herself altogether, -and looking up in his face with a wan and watery smile. - -“You are not hurt, you are not wounded by what I have done,” she said, -“dear Durzil. You do not fancy that I do not perceive, do not feel, and -esteem, and love all your great, and good, and generous, and noble -qualities. I am a foolish, weak little girl—I am not worthy of you; I -could not, I know I could not make you happy, even if I could—if I -could—if—you know what I would say, Durzil.” - -“If you could be happy with me yourself,” he answered, smiling in his -turn, and without an effort, although his smile was pensive and sad -likewise. “No, my Theresa, I am not hurt nor wounded. I am grieved, it -is true, I cannot but be grieved at the dissipating of a pleasant dream, -at the vanishing of a hope long indulged, long cherished—a hope which -has been a solace to me in many a moment of pain and trial, a sweet -companion in many a midnight watch. But I am neither hurt nor wounded; -for you have never given me any reason to form so bold, so unwarranted -hope, and you have given me now all that you can give me, sympathy and -kindness. Our hearts, our affections, I well know, let men say what they -will, are not our own to give—and a true woman can but do what you have -done. Moreover, even with the sorrow and regret which I feel at this -moment, there is mingled a conviction that you are doing what is both -wise and right; for although you have all within yourself, though you -are all that would make me, or a far better man than I, ay, the best man -who ever breathed the breath of life, supremely happy; still, if you -could not be happy with me, and in me yourself—how could I be so?” - -She looked up at him again, and now, with an altered expression, for -there was less of sadness and more of surprise, more of respect for the -man who spoke so composedly, so well, in a moment of such trial, on her -fair features. Perhaps, too, there might have been a shadow of -regret—could it be of regret that he did not feel more acutely the loss -which he had undergone? If there were such a feeling in her mind—for -she was woman—it was transient as the lightning of a summer’s night—it -was gone before she had time even to reproach herself for its momentary -existence. - -“You are astonished,” he said, interpreting her glance, almost before -she knew that he had observed it, “you are astonished that I should be -so calm, who am by nature so quick and headlong. But I, too, have -learned much to-day—have learned much of my own nature, of my own -infirmities, of my own errors—and with me to learn that these exist, is -to resolve to conquer them. I have learned first, Theresa, that my -father, whom I have ever been forced to regard as my worst enemy, died -conscious of the wrong he had done me—done my mother—and penitent, and -full of love and of sorrow for us both. And therein have I convicted -myself of one great error, committed, indeed, through ignorance, which -has, however, been the cause, the source of many other errors—which has -led me to charge the world with injustice, when I was myself unjust -rather to the world, which has made me guilty of the great offence, the -great crime of hating my brother men, when I should have pitied them, -and loved them. Therefore I will be wayward no more, nor rash, nor -reckless. I will make one conquest at least—that of myself and of my -own passions.” - -“I know—I know,” said the girl, suddenly blushing very deeply, “that -you are every thing that is good and great; every thing that men ought -to admire and women to love, and yet—” - -“And yet you cannot love me. Well, think no more of that, Theresa. -Forget—” - -“Never! never!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands eagerly together. “I -never can forget what you have made me feel, what I must have made you -_suffer_ this day.” - -“Well, if it be so, remember it, Theresa; but remember it only thus. -That if you have quenched my love, if you destroyed my hope, you have -but added to my regard, to my affection. Promise me that whereever you -may be, however, or with whomsoever your lot shall be cast, you will -always remember me as your friend, your brother; you will always call on -me at your slightest need, as on one who would shed his heart’s blood to -win you a moment’s happiness.” - -“I will—I will,” she cried affectionately, fervently. “On whom else -should I call. And God only knows,” she added, mournfully, “how soon I -shall need a protector. But will you,” she continued, catching both his -hands in her own, “will you be happy, Durzil?” - -“I will,” he replied, firmly, returning the gentle pressure, “I will, at -least in so far as it rests with man to be so, in despite of fortune. -But mark me, dear Theresa, if you would have me be so, you can even yet -do much toward rendering me so.” - -“Can I—then tell me, tell me how, and it is done already.” - -“By letting me see that _you_ are happy.” - -“Alas!” and again she clasped her hand hard over her heart, as if to -still its violent beating. “Alas! Durzil.” - -“And why, alas! Theresa?” - -“Can we be happy at our own will?” - -“Independently of great woes, great calamities, which we may not -control, which are sent to us for wise ends from above—surely, I say, -surely we can.” - -“And can you, Durzil?” - -“Theresa, _this_ is to me a great wo—yea, a great calamity; and yet I -reply, ay! after a time, after the bitterness shall be overpast, I can, -and more, I will. Much more, then, can you, who have never felt, who I -trust and believe will never meet any such wo or grief—much more can -you be happy. Wherefore should you not, foolish child—have you not been -happy hitherto? What have you, that you should not be happy now?” - -“Nothing,” she replied, faintly. “I have nothing why I should be -unhappy, unless it be, if I have made you so.” - -“Theresa, you have not—you shall see that you have not—made me -unhappy.” - -“And yet, Durzil, yet I feel a foreboding that I shall be, that I must -be unhappy. A want—I feel a want of something here.” - -“You are excited, agitated now; all this has been too much for your -spirits, for your nerves; and I think, Theresa, I am sure that you are -too much alone—you think, or rather you muse and dream, which are not -healthy modes of thinking—too much in solitude. I will speak to my -uncle about that before I go—” - -“Before you go!” she interrupted him, quickly. “Go, whither?” - -“To sea. To my ship, Theresa.” - -“Then you _are_ hurt, then you _are_ angry with me. Then I have no -influence over you.” - -“Cease, cease, Theresa. It is better, it is necessary—I must go for -awhile, until I have weaned myself from this desperate feeling, until I -shall have accustomed myself to think of you, to regard you as a sister -only; until I shall have schooled myself so far as to be able to -contemplate you without agony as not only not being mine—but being -another’s.” - -“Would it—would it be agony to you, Durzil? Then mark me, I never, -never will be another’s.” - -“Madness!” he answered, firmly; “madness and wickedness, too, Theresa. -Neither man or woman were intended by the great Maker to be solitary -beings. God forbid, if you cannot be mine, that I should be so selfish -as to wish your life barren, and your heart loveless. No; love, Theresa, -when you can, only love wisely; and the day shall come when it will add -to my happiness to see and know you happy in the love of one whom you -can love, and who shall love you as you must be loved. Never speak again -as you did but now, Theresa. And now, dearest girl, I will leave you. -Rest yourself awhile, and compose yourself, and then go if you will to -your good father.” - -“Shall I—shall I tell him,” she faltered, “what has passed between us?” - -“As you will, as you judge best, Theresa. I am no advocate for -concealment, still less for deceit—but here there is none of the -latter, and to tell him this might grieve his kind spirit.” - -“You are wise—you are good. God bless you.” - -“And you, Theresa,” and he passed his arm calmly across her shoulder, -and bending over, pressed his lips, calmly as a father’s kiss on her -pure brow. “Fare you well.” - -“You are not going—going to leave us now?” - -“Not to-day—not to-day, Theresa.” - -“Nor to-morrow?” she said, beseechingly. - -“Nor to-morrow,” he replied, after a moment’s hesitation, “but soon. Now -compose yourself, my dear little girl. Farewell, and God bless you.” - - - CHAPTER V. - - _The Parting._ - - Addio Teresa, Teresa addio. - No pianger, bella, no pianger, no. - Quando To ritorno - Ti rivedro. - -After scenes of great excitement there ever follows a sort of listless -languor; and, as in natural commotions the fiercest elemental strife is -oftentimes succeeded by the stillest calms, so in the agitations of the -human breast, the most tumultuous passions are followed frequently, if -not invariably, by a sort of quiet which resembles, though it is not, -indifference. - -Thus it was, that day, in the household of William Allan. Tranquil and -peaceful at all times, in consequence of the reserved and studious -habits of the master of the house, and the deep sympathy with his -feelings and wishes which ruled the conduct of his children—for Durzil -was in all respects, save birth, the old man’s son—that house was not -usually without its own peculiar cheerfulness, and its subdued hilarity, -arising from the gentle yet mirthful disposition of the young girl, and -the high spirits of Durzil, attuned to the sobriety of the place. - -But during the whole of that day its quietude was so very still as to be -almost oppressive, and to be felt so by its inmates. Allan himself was -still enveloped in one of those mysterious moods of darkness, which at -times clouded his strong and powerful intellect, as marsh exhalations -will obscure the sunshine of an autumn day. Durzil was silent, reserved, -thoughtful, not gloomy or even melancholy, but—very unusually for -him—disposed to muse and ponder, rather than to converse or to act. -Theresa was evidently agitated and perturbed; and although she compelled -herself to be busy about her domestic duties, to attend to the comforts -of the strange guests whom accident had thrown upon their hospitality, -though she strove to be cheerful, and to assume a lightness of heart -which she was far from feeling, she was too poor a dissembler to succeed -in imposing either on herself or on those about her, and there was no -one person in the cottage, from the old cavalier down to the single -female servant, with the exception of her father, who did not perceive -that something had occurred to throw an unwonted shadow over her mind. - -Jasper, alone perhaps of all the persons so singularly thrown together, -was himself. His age, his character, his temperament, all combined to -render him the last to be affected seriously by any thing which did not -touch himself very nearly. And yet he was not altogether what is called -selfish; though recklessness, and natural audacity, and undue -indulgence, and, above all, the evil habits which had grown out of his -being too soon his own master, and the master of others, had rendered -him thoughtless, if not regardless, of the feelings of those around him. - -All the consequences of his accident, except the stiffness and pain -remaining from his contusions, had passed away; and though he was -confined to his bed, and unable to move a limb without a pang, his mind -was as clear, and his spirit as untamed as ever. - -His father, who had been aroused from the state of indolence and -sedentary torpor, which was habitual rather than natural to him, by the -accident which had startled him into excitement and activity, had not -yet subsided into his careless self-indulgence; for the subsequent -events of the past evening, and his conversation with Durzil on that -morning, had moved and interested him deeply; had set him to thinking -much about the past, and thence to ruminating on the future, if -perchance he could read it. - -He by no means lacked clear-sightedness, or that sort of worldly wisdom, -which arises from much intercourse with the world in all its various -phases. He was far from deficient in energy when aught occurred to -stimulate him into action, whether bodily or mental. And now he was -interested enough to induce him so far to exert himself, as to think -about what was passing, and to endeavor to discover its causes. - -It was not, therefore, long before he satisfied himself, and that -without asking a question, or giving utterance to a surmise, that an -explanation had taken place between the young seaman and Theresa, and -that the explanation had terminated in the disappointment of Durzil’s -hopes. Still he was puzzled, for there was an air of tranquil -satisfaction—it could not be called resignation, for it had no particle -of humility in its constituents—about the young man, and an -affectionate attention to his pretty cousin, which did not comport with -what he supposed to be his character, under such circumstances as those -in which he believed him to stand toward her. - -He would have looked for irritability, perhaps for impetuosity bordering -on violence, perhaps for sullen moodiness—the present disposition of -the man was to him incomprehensible. And if so, not less he was unable -to understand the depression of the young girl, who was frequently, in -the course of the day, so much agitated, as to be on the point of -bursting into tears, and avoided it only by making her escape suddenly -from the room. - -Once or twice, indeed, he caught her eyes, when she did not know that -she was observed, fixed with an expression, to which he could affix no -meaning, upon the varying and intelligent countenance of his son—an -expression half melancholy, half wistful, conveying no impression to the -spectator’s mind, of the existence in hers either of love or liking, but -rather of some sort of hidden interest, some earnest curiosity coupled -almost with fear, something, in a word, if such things can be, that -resembled painful fascination. Once too he noticed, that not he only, -but Durzil Bras-de-fer likewise, perceived the glance, and was struck by -its peculiarity. And then the old cavalier was alarmed; for a spirit, -that was positively fearful, informed the dark face and gleaming eyes of -the free-trader—a spirit of malevolence and hate, mingled with iron -resolve and animal fierceness, which rendered the handsome features, -while it lasted, perfectly revolting. - -That aspect was transient, however, as the short-lived illumination of a -lightning flash, when it reveals the terrors of a midnight ocean. It was -there; it was gone—and, almost before you could read it, the face was -again inscrutable as blank darkness. - -The thought arose, several times, that day in the mind of Miles St. -Aubyn, that he would give much that neither he nor his son had ever -crossed the threshhold of that house; or that now, being within it, it -were within his power to depart. But carriages, in those days, were -luxuries of comparatively rare occurrence even in the streets of the -metropolis; and in the remote rural counties, the state of society, the -character of the roads, and the limited means of the resident landed -proprietors rendered them almost unknown. - -There were not probably, within fifty miles of Widecomb, two vehicles of -higher pretension than the rough carts of the peasantry and farmers; all -journeys being still performed on horseback, if necessary by relays; -even the fair sex traveling, according to their nerves and capability to -endure fatigue, either on the side-saddle, or on pillions behind a -relative or a trusty servant. - -Until Jasper should be sufficiently recovered either to set foot in -stirrup, or to walk the distance between the fords of Widecomb and the -House in the Woods, there was therefore no alternative but to make the -best of it, and to remain where they were, relying on the hospitality of -their entertainers. - -Durzil’s manner, it is true, partook in no degree of the coloring which -that transient expression seemed to imply in his feelings; for, though -unwontedly silent, when he did speak he spoke frankly and friendly to -the young invalid; and more than once, warming to his subject, as -field-sports, or bold adventures, of this kind or that, came into -mention, he displayed interest and animation; and even related some -personal experiences, and striking anecdotes, of the Spanish Main and of -the Indian islands, with so much spirit and liveliness, as to show that -he not only wished to amuse, but was amused himself. - -While he was in this mood, he suffered it to escape him, or to be -elicited from him by some indistinct question of the old cavalier, that -he intended ere long to set forth again on another voyage of adventure -to those far climes which were still invested with something of the -romance of earlier ages. - -It was at this hint, especially, that Miles St. Aubyn observed Theresa’s -beautiful blue eyes fill with unbidden tears, and her bosom throb with -agitation so tumultuous, that she had no choice but to retire from the -company, in order to conceal her emotion. - -And at this, likewise, for the first time did William Allan manifest any -interest in the conversation. - -“What,” he said, “what is that thou sayest, Durzil, that thou art again -about to leave us? Methought it was thy resolve to tarry with us until -after the autumnal solstice.” - -“It was my resolve, uncle,” replied the young man quietly, “but -something has occurred since, which has caused me to alter my -determination. My mates, moreover, are very anxious to profit by the -fine weather of this season, and so soon as I can ship a cargo, and get -some brisk bold hands, I shall set sail.” - -“I like not such quick and sudden changes,” replied the old man; “nor -admire the mind which cannot hold to a steady purpose.” - -The dark complexion of Durzil fired for a moment at the rebuke, and his -nether lip quivered, as though he had difficulty in repressing a retort. -He did repress it, however, and answered, apparently without emotion: - -“You are a wise man, uncle, and must know that circumstances will arise -which must needs alter all plans that are merely human. _L’homme -propose_, as the Frenchman has it, _mais Dieu dispose_. So it is with -me, just now. The changed determination which I have just announced does -not arise from any change in my desires, but from a contingency on which -I did not calculate.” - -“It were better not to determine until one had made sure of all -contingencies,” said William Allan, sententiously. - -“Then, I think, one never would determine at all. For, if I have learned -aright, mutability is a condition unavoidable in human affairs. But be -this as it may, the only change, I can imagine, which will hinder me -from sailing on the Virginia voyage, so soon as I can ship a crew and -stow a cargo, will be a change of the wind. It blows fair now, if it -will only hold a week. One other change there is,” he added, as his fair -cousin entered the room with a basket of fresh gathered roses, “which -might detain, but that change will not come to pass, do you think it -will, Theresa?” - -“I think not, cousin Durzil,” she replied with a slight blush, “if you -allude to that concerning which we spoke this morning.” - -The old knight looked from one to the other of the young people in -bewilderment. Their perfect understanding, and extreme control of their -feelings was beyond his comprehension, and yet he could not believe that -he had mistaken. - -“What, are you too against me, girl?” said her father quickly. “Have you -given your consent to his going?” - -“My consent!” she replied, “I do not imagine that my consent is very -necessary, or that Durzil would wait long for it. But I do think it is -quite as well he should go now, if he must go at all, particularly as he -intends, if I understand rightly, that it shall be his last voyage.” - -“I did not promise that, Theresa,” said the sailor, with a faint -smile—“although”— - -“Did you not”—she interrupted him quickly—“I thought you had; but it -must be as you will, and certainly it does not much concern me.” - -And with the words, she left the room hastily, and not as it appeared -very well pleased. - -“There! see’st thou that?” cried her father—“see’st thou that, Durzil?” - -“Ay! do I.”—replied the young man with a good deal of bitterness. “But -I do not need to see that to teach me that women are capricious and -selfish in their exigency of services.” - -There was a dead pause. A silence, which in itself was painful, and -which seemed like to give birth to words more painful yet, for William -Allan knit his brow darkly, and compressed his lower lip, and fixed his -eye upon vacancy. - -But at this moment Jasper, whose natural recklessness had rendered him -unobservant of the feelings which had been displayed during that short -conversation, raised himself on his elbow, and looking eagerly at Durzil -exclaimed: - -“Oh, the Virginia voyage! To the New World! My God! how I should love to -go with you. Do you carry guns? How many do you muster of your crew?” - -The interruption, although the speaker had no such intention, was well -timed, for it turned the thoughts and feelings of all present into a new -channel. The two old men looked into each other’s faces, and smiled as -their eyes met, and Allan whispered, though quite loud enough to be -audible to all present: - -“The same spirit, Miles, the same spirit. As crows the old game cock, so -crows the young game chicken!” - -“And why not?” answered Durzil, with a ready smile, for there was -something that whispered at his heart, though indeed he knew not -wherefore, that it were not so ill done to remove Jasper from that -neighborhood for a while. “If Sir Miles judge it well that you should -see something of the world, in these piping times of peace, it is never -too soon to begin. You shall have a berth in mine own cabin, and I will -put you in the way of seeing swords flash, and smelling villainous -saltpetre, in a right good cause, I’ll warrant you.” - -“A right good cause, Durzil? and what cause may that be?” asked his -uncle in a caustic tone. - -“The cause of England’s maritime supremacy,” answered the young man -proudly. “That is cause good enough for me. For what saith bully Blake -in the old song— - - “‘The sea, the sea is England’s, quo’ he again, - The sea, the sea is England’s, and England’s shall remain.’” - -And he caroled the words in a fine deep bass voice, to a stirring air, -and then added—“That, sir, is the cause we fight for, on the Line and -beyond it—and that we will fight for, here and every where, when it -shall be needful to fight for it. And now, young friend, to answer your -question. I do carry guns, eighteen as lively brass twelve-pounders as -ever spoke good English to a Don or a Monsieur, or a Mynheer either, for -that matter; and then for crew, men and officers, I generally contrive -to pack on board eighty or ninety as brisk boys as ever pulled upon a -brace, or handled a cutlas.” - -“Why you must reckon on high profits to venture such an outlay,” said -Sir Miles, avoiding the question of his son’s participation in the -cruise. - -“Ay!” answered Durzil, “if no gold is to be had for picking up in -Eldorado, there is some to be gained there yet by free-trading—and once -in a while one may have the luck to pick up a handful on the sea.” - -“On the sea, ay! how so?” - -“Once I was going quietly along before the trades, with my goods under -hatches as peaceable and lawful a trader, as need be, when we fell in -with a tall galleon careering. Having no cause to shun or fear her, I -lay my own course with English colors flying, when what does she but up -helm and after us. In half an hour she was within range and opened with -her bow guns, in ten minutes more she was alongside, and—” - -“Alongside, in ten minutes, from long cannon range!” exclaimed Miles St. -Aubyn—“what were you doing then, that she overhauled you so fast?” - -“Running down to meet her, Sir Miles, with every stitch of canvas set -that would draw, when I saw that she was bent on having it; and—as I -was about to say when you interrupted me—in twenty more she had changed -owners.” - -“Indeed! indeed! that _was_ a daring blow,” said the old soldier, -rousing at the tale, like a superannuated war-horse to the trumpet, “and -what was she?” - -“A treasure galleon, sir; a Spaniard homeward bound, with twenty-six -guns, and two hundred men.” - -“And what did you with your prize, in peace time? You hardly brought her -into Plymouth, I should fancy.” - -“Nor into Cadiz, either,” he replied with a smile. “Her crew, or what -was left of them, were put on board a coaster bound for St. Salvador, -her bars and ingots on board the good ship ‘Royal Oak,’ of Bristol, and -she—oh! she, I think, was sent to the bottom!” - -“A daring deed!” said Sir Miles, shaking his head gravely—“a daring -deed truly, which might well cost you all your lives, were it complained -of by the Most Christian King!” - -“And yet his supreme Christianity fired on us the first!” - -“And yet, that plea, I fear, would hardly save you in these days, but -you would hang for it.” - -“Amen!” replied the young man. “Better be hanged, ‘his country crying he -hath played an English part,’ than creep to a quiet grave a coward from -his cradle. And now, what say you, young sir, would you still wish to -adventure it with us, knowing what risks we run?” - -“Ay, by my soul!” answered the brave boy, with a flashing eye, and -quivering lip, “and the rather, that I _do_ know it. What do you say, -father? May I go with him? In God’s name, will you not let me go with -him?” - -“Indeed, will I not, Jasper,” said Sir Miles, with an accent of resolve -so steady, that the boy saw at once it was useless to waste another word -on it. “Beside, he is only laughing at you. Why! what in heaven’s name -should he make with such a cockerel as thou, crowing or ere thy spurs -have sprouted!” - -“Laughing at me, is he!” exclaimed the boy, raising himself up in his -bed actively, without exhibiting the least sign of the pain, which -racked him, as he moved. “If I thought he were, he’d scarce sail so -quickly as he counts on doing.” - -Here Durzil would have spoken, but the old cavalier cut in before him, -saying with a sneer, - -“It is like thou could’st hinder him, my boy, at any time; most of all -when thou art lying there bed-ridden.” - -“The very reason wherefore I could hinder him the easier,” replied -Jasper, who saw by Durzil’s grave and calm expression that the meaning -his father had attached to his speech, was not his meaning. - -“And how so, I prithee.” - -“Had he, as you say he did, intended to mock me, or insult me otherwise, -I would have prayed him courteously to delay his sailing until such time -as my hurts would permit to draw triggers, or cross swords with him; and -he would have delayed at my request, being a gentleman of courage and of -honor.” - -“Assuredly I should,” replied Durzil Bras-de-fer, “and you would have -done very rightly to call on me in that case. But let me assure you, -nothing was further from my intention than to laugh at you. I sailed -myself, and smelt gunpowder in earnest, before I was old as you are by -several years; and I was perfectly in earnest when I spoke, although I -can now well see that my offer, though assuredly intended, could not be -accepted.” - -Before Jasper had time to reply to these words, his father said to him -with a look of approbation, - -“You have answered very well, my son; and I am glad that you have -reflected, and seen so well what becomes a gentleman to ask, and to -grant in such cases. For the rest, you ought to see that Master Durzil -Olifaunt is perfectly in the right; and, that having offered you -courteously what you asked rashly, he now perceives clearly the -impossibility of your accepting his offer.” - -“I do not, however, see that at all,” answered the boy moodily. “You -carried a stand of colors, I have heard you say, before you were -fifteen, and you deny me the only chance of winning honor that ever may -be offered to me, in these degenerate times, and under this peaceful -king.” - -“I do not think that it would minister very much to your honor, or add -to the renown of our name, that you should get yourself hanged on some -sand key in the Caribbean sea, or knocked on the head in some scuffle -with the Spanish guarda costas—no imputation, I pray you believe me, -Master Olifaunt, on your choice of a career, the gallantry and justice -of which I will not dispute, though I may not wish my son to adopt it.” - -“I know not what you would have me do,” said the boy, “unless you intend -to keep me here all my life, fishing for salmon and shooting black-cock -for an occupation, and making love to country girls for an amusement.” - -“I was not aware, Jasper,” answered his father more seriously than he -had ever before heard him speak, “that this latter was one of your -amusements. If it be so, I shall certainly take the earliest means of -bringing it to a conclusion, for while it is not very creditable to -yourself, it is ruinous to those with whom you think fit to amuse -yourself as you call it.” - -“I did not say that I ever had amused myself so,” replied Jasper, -somewhat crest-fallen by the rebuke of his father—“though if I am kept -moping here much longer, heaven only knows what I may do.” - -“Well, sir, no more of this!” said the old man sharply. “You are not yet -a man, whatever you may think of yourself; neither, I believe, are you -at all profligate or vicious, although, as boys at your age are apt -enough to do, you may think it manly to affect vices of which you are -ignorant. But to quit this subject, when do you think you shall sail, -Master Olifaunt?” - -“I cannot answer you that, Sir Miles, certainly. I purpose to set off -hence for Plymouth to-morrow afternoon, and, as I shall ride post, it -will not take me long ere I am on board. When I arrive, I shall be able -to fix upon a day for sailing.” - -“But you will return hither, will you not, before you go to sea?” - -“Assuredly I will, Sir Miles, to say farewell to my kind uncle here, who -has been as a father to me, and to my little Theresa.” - -“And you will pass one day I trust, if you may not give us more, with -Jasper at the Manor. We can show you a heron or two on the moor, and let -you see how our long-winged falcons fly, if you are fond of hawking. It -shall be my fault, if hereafter, after so long an interruption, I suffer -old friendship, and recent kindness also, to pass away and be -forgotten.” - -“I will come gladly to see my young friend here, who will ere then be -quite recovered from this misadventure; and who, if he rides as -venturesomely as he fishes, will surely leave me far behind in the hot -hawking gallop, for though I can ride, I am, sailor-like, not over -excellent at horsemanship.” - - [_To be continued._ - - * * * * * - - - - - THE SPANISH MAIDEN. - - - BY MRS. AGNES S. COLEMAN. - - - A wanderer o’er the hills of Spain, - I stood one balmy summer’s night, - To see come down on hill and plain, - Streamlet and tower fair Luna’s light; - While traced on the bright waters deep - Were forest dun, dark mountain hoar, - Old ruined tower and castle keep, - Reflected from the emerald shore. - - But swift winged thought, so prone to stray, - Was hov’ring o’er a western strand, - When lo! came minstrel’s gentle lay. - In tones as from Elysian land. - A Seville girl with jeweled hair - Was near her trellised window leaning, - And pouring on the balmy air, - This song of love’s own gentle dreaming. - - “How many an hour, bright Guadalquiver, - I’ve stood beside thy flowing tide, - And wished my home might be forever, - Near where thy silver waters glide— - Were Carlos near, with brow of snow - His noble intellect revealing, - And that dark eye whose radiant glow - Is lit by high and holy feeling. - - “For like fair Eden’s early flowers, - Thy groves are in perpetual bloom, - And Love’s own wing fans the bright bowers - Of orange, bergamot and broom. - O’er all this region of delight - Spring reigns like one unending day, - No storms its opening blossoms blight, - Nor shades on its pure waters play. - - “And when the orb of day hath gone - Down o’er Morena’s dusky height, - How beautiful the stars come on, - The blue ethereal arch of night. - Ah this fair earth hath many a scene - By pure and genial breezes fanned, - Yet boasts no realm cloudless, serene, - Like my own Andalusian land. - - “But dull to me the fairest clime, - Cheerless its landscapes to my view, - Unless another’s eye with mine, - Can gaze upon its beauty too; - And vain to me the rich perfume - Floating on all the ambient air, - From Seville’s gardens in their bloom, - Unless a voice I love is there. - - “Were India’s realm before me laid, - I’d give it all might I recline - My saddened brow, my weary head, - Carlos, on that dear heart of thine— - And hear thy soft, low tones again - Fall like sweet music on my ear, - With strange bland influence to sustain - My timid heart, my spirit cheer.” - - The Spanish maiden ceased her lay, - And slowly from my vision past, - Like some sweet dream in summer’s day, - Too bright and beautiful to last— - Yet oft methinks when moonlight clear - Falleth on stream, and tower, and tree, - Again that soft low voice I hear - Murmuring its plaintive melody. - - * * * * * - - - - - SKETCHES OF LIFE IN OUR VILLAGE. - - - NO. II.—THE LAST SACRAMENT. - - - BY GIFTIE. - - -Even from his fairy-like and laughing boyhood, George Atherton had been -a dreamer. His soul seemed like a harp whose chords were tuned in -heaven, and from which the rough winds of earth could draw forth at best -but a sad and broken melody. The spirit of the Beautiful was given him -at his birth, to be his constant companion and unfailing friend. It -walked with him in his solitary rambles, it talked with him in his -lonely hours, it filled his dreams with high thoughts and splendid -imaginings. It led him to the solitude of nature, and opened his eyes to -behold the beauties of this glorious creation, which even in rains bears -the stamp of the Divinity. And there, as his mind gradually expanded, -Religion came to him in the stillness of life’s morning, and taught his -fresh and unworn spirit of the Highest and Holiest, by whom are all -things, and in whom all exist. To his child-like faith the Deity was not -a far off and incomprehensible mystery, but an ever present all -pervading spirit. In the thousand voices that resound through this wide -spread universe, he heard an undertone—a low solemn voice, that -said—“be not afraid—it is I.” - -And then as the youth grew to manhood, wrapt in these high and glorious -communings with Nature and his God, the love which had hitherto filled -his soul with an unuttered melody sprang like lightning to his lips, and -he stood up before the world to tell what the spirit of God should -whisper him of Christ and his love to the lost and guilty—of heaven and -its inconceivable glories. But even into the holy religion which he -preached he carried the ever-present spirit of Poetry, while he -neglected not to expound in a simple manner the truths of the gospel, it -was plain that he loved better to soar upward into the regions of the -vast and terrible unknown where sits the Omnipotent clothed in his own -infinity. He roamed the vast field opened by revelation, and culled the -fairest flowers and the richest treasures that he might lay them with -his heart’s devotion a willing offering upon the altar of the Almighty. - -Time went on, and a new class of emotions was awakened in his breast. -The love which before was lavished on every thing beautiful in heaven or -earth, was turned into a new channel, centered upon one object; and -within his heart was a secret image that was worshiped as second to -naught save his God. The moment that Emma came before him with her -delicate and ethereal loveliness, the spirit within him whispered that -that pale sweet face should be his destiny. He listened to her voice and -the echo of its melody was thenceforth around him night and day, and the -very circumstance, that in a more worldly mind would have quenched the -first risings of affection by a sense of its utter hopelessness, only -served to draw him more closely to her. - -In the brightness and in the gloom, in the sunshine and beneath the -radiance of the pale-browed queen of night, since the gates of Eden -closed on guilty man, there has walked an angel over the earth. Amid the -green glades and flowery meads, beneath the mighty forest trees and over -the barren wastes, over the tossing billows and within the crowded city, -up the majestic rivers and in the wild solitudes whence ariseth the song -of Nature untremulous and clear, has her footstep passed and the light -of her starry eye been seen. In that “better land” she is the angel who -waits without the gate of the celestial city and opens it to the holy -and blessed ones who crowd thither. To them she seems bright and -beautiful, and her voice hath an echo of the songs of heaven, but on -earth she wears a more sombre garb, and her eye hath a shade of gloom -far in its misty depths, and men call her the angel of Death. This angel -had for months been walking with Emma, step for step, along the path of -life, and sealing with her icy touch the springs of existence. Before -George saw her, consumption had marked her for the tomb. He knew it by -the strange brightness of her eyes and the hectic flush upon her cheek, -and yet the young pastor loved her - - —As one might love a star - The brightest where ten thousand are - Sadly and silently, - Without a hope or scarce a wish - That she would link her fate with his - Along life’s dreary way. - -They stood together beneath the free blue sunny sky. His high brow was -flushed, and his whole frame quivered with the impetuous emotions that -would no longer be controlled, and even in their hopelessness had -uttered the words that might never be recalled. - -She listened silently, and when at length she raised her dark blue eyes -to his they were filled with tears. - -“Have you thought well ere you told me this?” she said in a low -tremulous tone. “Know you that if you would unite your fate with mine -you must turn from the glad pathway of life, and tread a dark lone -valley that leads to a shadowy bourne where we must part? Know you that -the radiance of youth and health has long since faded from my path, and -of all my expectations there remains but one—that one is Death—and of -all my hopes, only the hope of heaven. However dearly you may love me, I -can never be wholly yours—even now I am wedded to another—I am the -bride of the Grave.” - -“I have known it all—I have felt it all. I know that love’s highest -boon may be but to catch the last look, the last sigh—yet even with -this certainty that love is dearer to me than ought else on earth. I ask -for nothing but to hear you say that I am beloved—I dare expect nothing -but to watch with you the fleeting of the few months that remain to you -on earth, and as you stand beneath the portals of the grave to receive -one last assurance of undying affection as they close between us—one -promise that you will be mine—mine still, in heaven.” - -“Yet I would not have it so,” said she musingly. “Why should I throw the -shadow of the tomb over your path? Why should I chill your blood with -the cold touch of death? No, no, George, leave me, and since you cannot -forget, think of me but as an angel in heaven.” - -But even as she spoke her voice grew fainter and fainter, and when she -ceased she sunk upon his breast exhausted by the struggle of feelings -too strong for a form so frail. He bent over her— - -“Once, only once, thou only beloved—only once say that thou art mine,” -he murmured in low thrilling tones. - -She raised her face, and their eyes met in a long earnest gaze. Then -slowly and tremblingly her white lips opened— - -“Thine, thine forever.” - - * * * * * - -He knew that she was dying day by day, and yet he talked to his own -heart of life and hope, as if he deemed in the madness of his devotion -that such love as theirs would ward off death. And as time passed on we -saw his form grow thin, and his pale face yet paler, and his dark eyes -were dimmed as if he had looked too long and earnestly into the darkness -and tears that overhang the grave. But she—there was a fierce and -unnatural glow upon her cheek that told of the deadly fire within, and -her step became slow and faltering, but the clear light of her eloquent -eyes grew brighter and brighter as if she had looked through the gloomy -clouds of death upon the unspeakable glory of God, and in gazing had -forgotten how to weep. Thus in that hour did the fair and fragile become -the support of the strong-hearted ones who, for her sake, were bowed to -the earth with sorrow. Her love was no summer flower to wither beneath -the shadows of the dark valley—and they who wondered at its strength -knew not that it was fed with dews from the river of Life, and nourished -with the sunshine of the world beyond the tomb. - -It was the day for the celebration of the sacrament in our church at -C——, and at her earnest request Emma was permitted to be with us on -this occasion—perchance the last for her on earth. For some time she -had been failing rapidly, and it was now evident to all that her -pilgrimage was nearly finished. She entered when the afternoon service -was over, walking slowly between her aged and heart-stricken parents. -The young pastor did not lift his head, but sat with his face buried in -his hands till all was still again. He was gathering strength to appear -before the people of his charge as became a minister of God, that he -might not appear to preach to them of a sustaining grace that had failed -to help him in his hour of need. - -When he arose his face was very pale, but all trace of emotion had -vanished. All human affection incompatible with the Divine will seemed -to have died within him, and he stood calmly and firmly up, and clasped -his hands to pray. Long and earnest was that petition, and its burden -was the cry of a suffering heart, “Not my will, oh God, but thine.” When -it was ended, then were distributed the emblems of the sacred body that -was broken, and the blood that was shed for man’s salvation, and again -the pastor rose. - -At first he spoke in low tones of the Lamb of God who gave himself to -die for man, and of the efficacy of that death; but his voice rose with -the theme, his eyes kindled, and his cheeks flushed as he proceeded. - -“Since I sat here, beloved friends, I have had communion with the Father -of Spirits. I seem to see the blessed Redeemer on the night in which he -was betrayed, when he took the bread and brake it among his disciples. I -see his glorious yet mournful face as he bade them keep this holy -festival in memory of him. He knew that before the next evening the Son -of God would have been laid, a bound and bleeding victim, upon the altar -of man’s transgressions. Ay! before the morrow he must have offered up -the atoning sacrifice that was to take away the sins of the whole -world—to open the healing fountain whose waters should mingle with the -stream of Death and take away its bitterness. He knew all the terrors of -that fearful night in the garden—the bloody sweat, the buffeting, the -ignominy, the agonizing death, were all before him. Conceive his -feelings as he sat among that chosen band, as he met the earnest gaze of -the loved one who lay in his bosom, and heard the eager, tremulous -question, ‘Lord is it I?’ - -“I see him when the betrayer had left the disciples, lead them forth -into the garden, where even they who had sworn to die for him could not -watch with him one hour—when as he knelt alone beneath the olive trees -he heard from afar the clash of arms and the shoutings of the mob that -came to take him. I hear the thrilling agony of his mighty heart, as -sinking beneath the weight of a world’s iniquity, he cries—‘If this cup -may not pass from me, thy will be done.’ - -“The scene is changed. Behold I see the clouds parted and the veil which -hides the awful future is withdrawn. I see heaven opened, and he who -agonized in the garden and bled upon the cross, cometh in the clouds, -and with him those faithful ones who in all ages of the world have -feared not to follow him, even unto death. The brightness of his -Father’s glory is around him, and the affrighted earth shrinks away from -his presence—‘Behold he cometh in the clouds, and every eye shall see -him, and they also who pierced him, and they shall wail because of him. -And the heavens shall depart as a scroll, and the elements shall melt -with fervent heat—the sun shall be darkened and the moon shall not give -her light,’ and the whole earth shall be offered as a burnt sacrifice to -the terrible glory of God. - -“Shout then, ye little flock!—ye chosen ones from the foundation of the -world! Lift up your eyes to the celestial city, and lo! the pearly gates -are unbarred—enter into Paradise, and join the choral hymn that is -chanted before the throne, for worthy is He who hath redeemed you, to -receive glory and endless praise. - -“The vision hath passed, but the voice of God within me answereth, ‘He -that overcometh shall inherit the kingdom.’ - -“And oh! my brethren, what entire sacrifice of ourselves should we give -to him who for our sakes condescended to become incarnate. What obstacle -should hinder us when we remember that such is our reward. We journey on -through this valley of sunshine and tears, our hearts are fettered with -the strong ties of earthly love, and we joy and sorrow, hope and fear, -as do those who have no support but their own strength—that broken reed -that pierces the breast that leans on it. But to our vision there is one -bright spot, though earth may be dim around us; there is one hope when -all other hopes fail, one refuge when tempests assail us, one friend who -will never die.” - -The pastor paused and gazed mournfully on the group before him. Emma was -sitting with her bright beautiful eyes raised upward, while the smile on -her parted lips, and the rapt expression of her face, showed that borne -on the wings of faith, and the hope of that unutterable glory, she had -forgotten this mortal existence, and was communing with her kindred -angels. When he spoke again, it was in a lower tone, and his voice -trembled slightly for he was but a man, and now that the excitement had -passed, his heart filled with a boundless affection for that pale young -creature. - -“And should not this hope comfort you, oh ye who have so often been -sorely tried, and who must now again be called to look through tears up -to your Father’s throne, while she who leaves you tears the tendrils of -your hearts from earth, that she may fix them with the grasp of an -all-conquering faith upon the altar of God. Mourn yet not, as -comfortless—‘whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth.’ Lift up your eyes -from this earthly dust to that celestial home where ye shall dwell -forever—‘in your Father’s house are many mansions,’ and your Redeemer -has said, ‘I go to prepare a place for you.’” - -As he spoke these last words a long, deep, thrilling sigh, that seemed -to bear upon it the anguish of a breaking heart, broke from the mother’s -lips, and drawing nearer to Emma, she clasped her arms around her as if -she feared she would go even then from her embrace. The action and the -sigh drew Emma from the height to which her sublime thoughts had soared. -She turned suddenly, and a change passed over her beaming face as she -looked upon her parents. Her father had bowed his head upon his hands, -and his aged frame shook with suppressed sobs. Both had forgotten time, -place, every thing but that she was their last, their only one, and the -thought that came more than ever to their hearts, that she must leave -them. Emma wiped the tears from her mother’s face and strove to speak, -but the reaction of feeling was too great for her feeble frame to -endure; she became violently agitated, a faintness came over her, and -starting from her seat, she fell forward into her mother’s arms gasping -for breath. - - * * * * * - -Night, solemn and holy! How infinite was the mercy that gave thee to -spread thy star-spangled mantle over the tired earth, hushing to repose -its misery, and hiding its crime. Night, pure and beautiful! The fitting -time for the soul of the innocent to ascend to a better land. - -Midnight had chimed on the old church clock, and the whole world seemed -sleeping as if bound by a spell. The stars were looking down from the -far off heavens, and the large moon was sinking behind the long low -clouds in the west, gilding leaf and fountain with its brightness, and -shedding a holy radiance on the face of the dying girl. Emma was -reclining on a low couch by the open window, and save the low sighing of -the wind all was still in that room of death. The agony of suffering -that all day had racked her frame, was now passed away, and she lay in a -calm slumber, with her head upon her mother’s bosom. George Atherton -knelt beside the couch with her hands clasped in his, and her father -stood near, silent beneath the pressure of a wo too deep for tears. The -last hour had come—they knew that she was dying. - -Is it not ever thus? The loveliest, the most utterly beloved are ever -the first to leave us. Those on whom we most leaned for support and -comfort during this earth-pilgrimage are ever the first victims to the -unerring shaft of death. And _it is well_. Fondly as I have loved and -deeply as I have mourned for the dead, I feel that it is well. “The -branches are lopped off that the tree may fail the easier.” The prop to -which we clung is torn away that the bleeding tendrils of these wrung -hearts may wind themselves more closely around the Rock of Ages. The -cords that bound the spirit to earth are severed, that its flight may be -unimpeded toward that heavenly city, that New Jerusalem, where God shall -wipe away all tears. - -How shall I tell of the parting—the _final_ parting. How shall mortal -language describe the triumph of stern relentless Death over the love of -human hearts. He who sitteth in his calm glory above the reach of -earthly sorrow—He to whose bosom that cherished one is now departed—He -alone can tell the anguish of that trial. - -She left them. She who had been the sunlight of their existence, turned -from them, and meekly and cheerfully trod the lone valley of Death. But -she had listened to “the spoken words,” she had caught a glimpse of the -glories of her heavenly home, she had heard a faint echo of the harpings -of an immortal hymn, and she raised her eyes with glad faith to the -throne of the Eternal, and leaning on the arm of her beloved she entered -into her rest. - -When morning came over the laughing earth, the light looked into that -still chamber tremblingly, as if it feared to break the solemn gloom. -Still they remained there—those pale watchers beside the dead—and with -her head yet leaning on her mother’s breast, and a faint smile upon her -parted lips, lay the cold lifeless form of the beautiful one who had -gone from them forever. That dying smile—it beamed upon their hearts -like sunlight from heaven. It was the seal of Love’s triumph, of the -soul’s immortality, and told of a reunion beyond the grave. - -Not long did those aged and lonely parents survive her. Gently and -easily they were called unto their celestial home. And for him who had -so loved her—still he wanders on the earth, working his Master’s will, -lonely yet not desolate. He shut his heart above that deep and quiet -sorrow, as above a shrine whose lifeless ashes might never be rekindled -by the fire of earthly love. Of Emma and of her early death, few ever -heard him speak, but all who saw him, knew that the hopes and affections -which engross the heart of man had been forever torn from his, and that -amid the changes of his career his calm soul lifted its thoughts upward -to the heaven of heavens where _she_ now dwells, with an eager and -imploring cry—“how long, oh Lord—how long.” - - * * * * * - - - - - THE ANGEL’S VISIT. - - - BY MRS. S. ANNA LEWIS. - - - One December evening cold, - Filled with sorrows manifold, - To the sere and sallow wold - With an elfin step I stole, - To hold converse with my soul - Of the loved and lost of yore, - Dwelling on the shadowy shore— - The Spirit-shore. - - Very lonely was my breast— - On that night no genial guest - By its hearth-stone paused to rest; - Dim the lamp of Hope did gleam - O’er my young heart’s darkened stream; - And I sought from mystic store - In that lamp new oil to pour— - Fresh oil to pour. - - Dark and drear and desolate, - On a mossy crag I sate, - Watching through the heavenly gate - Many a solemn Angel-band - Marching to the Spirit-land, - When Love tapping on the door - Of my heart, did there implore— - A Home implore. - - Trembling, shivering, timid-hearted, - From that holy dream I started, - As a ghost of the departed - From the gates of light had drifted, - And with icy fingers lifted - Up the latchet of the door - Of my doating heart once more— - Ah me! once more! - - Then aside I dashed the tear, - Lower bent my mental ear, - More distinct the taps to hear, - And thoughtless did begin - To tell Love to enter in. - When an Angel sought this shore - To defeat him at the door— - My lone heart’s door. - - Low his golden tresses streaming - O’er his wings with soul-light beaming, - Perched he down amid my dreaming, - Perching, sat ere I could rise. - Gazing full into my eyes, - As my soul he would explore— - And this Cupid by the door— - My lone heart’s door. - - Calmly then the Angel spoke, - Words that o’er my spirit broke, - Like the chimes in dream-land woke— - “Sad, meek solitaire of earth, - Loving, trusting from thy birth— - Soul that heavenward dost soar! - Turn this traitor from the door— - Thy lone heart’s door. - - “In thy breast he seeks no home— - From the blithest he will roam; - He will enter the heart’s dome, - Filch its every jewel fair, - Plant his barbed arrow there, - And then straight go out the door, - Back returning never more— - Ah, never more! - - “Search the chronicles of love, - See the nets that he has wove, - To entrap the timid Dove; - See in Lethe’s crowded domes - Ashes of his hecatombs; - And I wot thou’lt keep the door - Of thy heart locked evermore— - Forever more. - - “Blossoms in thy heart may bloom, - E’en while Love hath there his home, - But their roots are in the tomb; - And the tramp of funeral-feet - Lone thy spirit’s ear will greet, - When too late to lock the door - Of thy heart forever more— - Ah, evermore! - - “Therefore, mournful child of song, - Leave Love to the heartless throng, - Who can cope with wo and wrong; - Pour thy soul’s surcharge of fire - On an altar holier, higher, - And let Reason keep the door - Of thy fond heart evermore— - Forever more.” - - When the Angel this had said, - Out his burnished wings he spread, - And above the tree-tops sped; - Upward, upward, where the moon - Floated in her cloudy noon, - Leaving me to guard the door - Of my heart forever more— - Ah, evermore! - - But this heart would not obey - What the missioned sprite did say— - It would have its willful way; - It made Love its chiefest guest, - Till he banished Peace and Rest, - When he straight went out the door, - Locking Wo in evermore— - Ah, evermore! - - * * * * * - - - - - LEGEND - - -OF THE INTRODUCTION OF DEATH, AND ORIGIN OF THE MEDICINE WORSHIP AMONG THE - OGIBWAS. - - - BY KAH-GE-GA-GAH-BOWH. - - -The period of time which preceded the introduction of death and evil -into the country of the Indians, is represented to have been one which -the most fanciful imagination might suggest. - -At this late day the son of the forest speaks of it with deep feeling, -and sighs for its return. - -The following was related to me in a wigwam in which I spent about -fifteen years of my early life. It constituted a part of a lecture I -received during the ceremony of initiation into the order of the -Mysterious Worship of the Medicine Lodge. - -When Keshamoradoo made the red men, he made them happy. The men were -larger, were fleeter on foot, were more dexterous in games, and lived to -an older age than now. - -The forest abounded with game, the trees were loaded with fruit, and -birds who have now a black plumage were dressed with pure white. The -birds and the fowls ate no flesh, for the wide prairies were covered -with fruits and vegetables. The fish in the waters were large. The -Moredoo from heaven watched the blaze of the wigwams’ fires, and these -were as countless as the stars in the sky. - -Strange visitants from heaven descended every few days, and inquired of -the Indians whether any thing was wrong. Finding them happy and -contented, they returned to their high homes. - -These were tutelar gods, and they consulted with the sages of the -different villages, and advised all not to climb a vine which grew on -the earth, and whose top reached the sky, as it was the ladder on which -the spirits descended from heaven to earth, to bless the red men. - -One of these errand-spirits became intimate with one of the young -braves, who dwelt in a cabin with his grandmother, and favored him with -invitations to stroll with it among the various villages around. - -The favor shown by this god to the young man produced a jealousy among -his brethren, and during the absence of his distinguished friend, the -favored one was much troubled by his neighbors, who envied him his -situation. - -On one occasion when this persecution became intolerable, he determined -to leave his country, and, if possible, accompany the spirit to the -skies. - -The chief men had enjoined on all the duty to refrain from any desire or -any attempt to ascend the vine whose branches reached the heavens, -telling them that to do so would bring upon them severe penalties. - -The spirit finding the young man quite sad, inquired, learned the true -cause of his sorrow, and taking him, reascended. - -The old woman cried for his return, “Noo-sis, be-ge-wain, be-ge-wain.” -“My child, come back, come back!” He would not come home, and the woman -having adjusted all her matters in the lodge, after the nightfall -repaired to the vine and began to ascend it. - -In the morning the Indians found the lodge she had inhabited empty, and -soon espied her climbing the vine. They shouted to her, “Hoision shay! -ah-wos be-ge-wain, mah-je-me-di—moo-ga-yiesh!” “Holloa, come back, you -old witch you.” - -But she continued ascending, up, up, up. - -A council was held to determine what inducement could be made to her to -return. They could hear her sobbing for her grandson. -“Ne-gah-wah-bah-mah nos-sis.” “I will yet see my child.” - -Consternation and fear filled the hearts of the nation, for one of their -number was disobeying the Great Spirit. Indignation and fury were seen -in the acts of the warriors, and the light of the transgressor’s burning -wigwam shed its lurid rays around. - -The woman was just nearing the top of the vine which was entwined around -one of the stars of heaven, and about entering that place, when the vine -broke, and down she came, with the broken vine which had before been the -ladder of communication between heaven and earth. - -The nations, as they passed by her, as she sat in the midst of the ruin -she had wrought, pushed her declining head, saying, “Whah, ke nah mah -dah bee mage men di moo ya yilsh.” “There you sit, you wicked old -witch.” - -Some kicked her, others dragged her by her hair, and thus expressed -their disapprobation. All who shall live after thee, shall call thee -_Equa_ (woman). - -The news of the disaster spread rapidly from village to village. Soon -numbers of men, women, and children were singularly affected. Some -complained of pains in their heads, and others of pains in various parts -of their bodies. Some were unable to walk, and others equally unable to -speak. - -They thought some of these fell asleep, for they knew not what death -was. They had never seen its presence. - -A deep solemnity began its reign in all the villages. There was no more -hunting, no more games, and no song was sung to soothe the sun to its -evening rest. - -Ah, it was then a penalty followed transgression. Disease was the -consequence of the breaking of the vine. Death followed. - -One day, in the midst of their distresses, they consulted each other to -determine what could be done. None knew. - -They watched carefully for the descent of those beings who used to visit -them—and at length they came. Eagerly each strove to tell his story. -They soon found that the strangers were silent and sad. They asked the -natives what words they wished to tell the Great Spirit in their -distress. One said that the vine might be replaced. Another that the -Great Spirit might cause the disease to leave them. Another wanted to -kill the old woman. Another desired plenty of game; and another wished -the Great Spirit to send them something that would cure. - -After this the strangers left, telling the Indians to wait, and they -should know what the Great Spirit should say. - -Each day of their absence seemed a month; at length they came, and -gathering around, the eager people said to them that they must all die, -as the vine that connected earth to the skies was broken, but the Great -Spirit has sent us to relieve you, and to tell you what you must do -hereafter. - -The strangers then gathered all the wild flowers from the plains, and -after drying them on their hands, blew the leaves with their breath, and -they were scattered all over the earth; wherever they fell they sprung -up and became herbs to cure all disease. - -The Indians instituted a dance, and with it a mode of worship. These few -were the first who composed the Great Medicine Lodge, and they did so -from the hands of the Great Spirit. - -There is not a flower that buds that is not for some wise purpose, -however small. There is not one blade of grass that the Indian requires -not. Learning this, and acting in view of it, will be for your good, and -will please the Great Spirit. - - * * * * * - - - - - LILY LESLIE. - - - A BALLAD. - - - BY GRETTA. - - - Bonny Lily Leslie roved - Down among the heather. - In a clear and sunny day - Of the summer weather. - - Something seemed to cloud her brow - Mingling with it gladness, - Half the look betrayed a wish, - The other half was sadness. - - By the brooklet’s flashing course - Then she stopped to ponder— - Why did Lily look so sad? - Why so lonely wander! - - Did she gaze within the stream - At the form reflected? - Was her fancy pleased to see - What she there detected? - - Did she note her sportive curls, - Did she try to twine them, - As the saucy breeze untied - The snood that would confine them? - - Did she mark her rounded cheek - Warm with youth’s bright dawning, - Soft as sunlight on the snow - In a winter’s morning? - - Did she count the summer’s o’er - Since she watched them flying? - Sixteen times had known them come, - Sixteen mourned them dying. - - Was she thinking how at home - In her mountain shealing, - She unseals her father’s heart, - All its love revealing? - - How she nestles in his arms - When he says he’s lonely, - Tells him he must love her well - Because he has her only! - - No! I’m sure that none of these - Made the lassie wander— - Then why did Lily walk alone, - Why did Lily ponder? - - Why did Lily sit her down - Mute as Sorrow’s daughter, - With her little blue veined feet - Shining through the water? - - Why was Lily’s voice not heard - ’Mid the brooklets laughter, - Caroling like free-born bird - With echo babbling after? - - Stealing softly through the shade - I heard what she was saying, - And a rare complaint indeed - The maiden was betraying. - - She was sighing, “Would that God - —Ere he took my mother— - Had given me, like Mary Hill, - A darling, darling _brother_! - - “How proud that Mary Hill appears, - When Harry comes from sea, - But I have none to wish returned, - And none to come to me. - - “The old man in our little home - Might then forget my mother, - And when he died would know me safe— - Oh that I had a brother!” - - “A brother! Lily,” soft I said— - As springing to her side - I caught her, like a startled fawn - Just bounding o’er the tide— - - “A brother! Lily, sit thee down - And _I_ will be thy brother; - Dost thou not know, since thine is dead, - That thou may’st choose another?” - - She laid her rosy palm in mine, - The artless little fairy, - And said, “Dear Harry, may I be, - Your sister, just like Mary? - - “May I watch to see you come, - May I run to meet you— - May I do the thousand things - Mary does to greet you!” - - We sat us down beside the hill - Broad shadowed by the mountain, - And there we talked the matter o’er, - Beside the gurgling fountain. - - And when the golden sun went down, - She promised, as I kissed her, - That she would ever, ever be - My darling, dearest SISTER! - - Then a thousand plans she told— - Of course none could miscarry— - Oh! she was so happy now, - She had a brother Harry! - - But my heart was beating wild - Ever since I kissed her, - And in vain it tried to say - “Love her as a SISTER!” - - Softly then I bent me down— - Now the stars were shining— - And my arm around her waist - _Brother_ly was twining— - - “Sister, there is one thing more - I’ll tell thee while we tarry; - Lily, _brothers_ go away, - Darling, _brothers_ marry! - - “Thou wilt be alone again - For thy Harry’s going— - _Sisters_ may not keep me here, - Though their tears be flowing. - - “Lily! hast thou never heard - Of a bond more tender, - For which the heart a brother’s love - A sister’s would surrender? - - “Such the spell that binds me now, - Dearest mountain flower, - And I’ve given all my soul - To its gentle power! - - “Dost thou hear me, Lily, love? - Shall I longer tarry? - Darling BROTHERS _go away_, - Dearest BROTHERS _marry_!” - - Lily Leslie bent her head, - Like a dew-wet blossom, - And the tears were falling fast - O’er her heaving bosom. - - What she sobbed I may not tell— - What I answered to her; - I only know the night grew dark - On maiden and on wooer. - - When the moon was sailing high - She knelt within the shealing; - I beside the old man’s couch - Was all the tale revealing. - - Soon he laid his aged hands - Tremblingly upon us, - And I heard his fervent voice - Pray for blessings on us. - - Lily laughed with merry heart - As she kissed her BROTHER, - “HUSBANDS need not go away, - Need not love another.” - - Now within her mountain home - Long we’ve lived together, - And my rovings since are all - With her, in summer weather. - - And so happy have I been, - I ne’er wished another, - Nor have heard my Lily since - Pine to have a—BROTHER! - - * * * * * - - - - - TO A PORTRAIT. - - - BY MRS. H. MARION STEPHENS. - - - ’Tis so like life that I could gaze - For aye upon that face, - As pilgrim scans, with uplift soul, - His spirit-resting place. - The brow so calm and passionless— - The eye so purely bright— - As if its every glance was full - Of peace and holy light! - - They haunt me wheresoe’er I turn, - Those lustrous eyes of thine, - Although their pleasant smile may rest - Oh never more on mine! - Ah weary—very weary ’tis - To look so long on thee, - To love, to worship, yet to know - Thy thoughts are far from me. - - And yet I would not have thee mine; - My heart with such excess - Of joy would break beneath the spell - Of its own blissfulness! - Oh no, I do not crave thy love; - I only ask to be - A simple floweret in thy path - While thou art _all_ to me! - - Who would not weep should never love! - A term of weary years - Is love’s best boon to human hearts— - Its brightest guerdon—_tears_! - I would not have it cast for me - A shadow on thy heart, - Or cloud one single ray of thine, - All glorious as thou art! - - No—rather let my spirit kneel - As to some distant star, - Whose light illumines my sad soul - From its bright home afar: - And while its beams may gladden those - More deeply—wildly blest, - One truant gleam may haply come - To lull my soul’s unrest! - - * * * * * - - - - - LOVE TESTS OF HALLOWEEN. - - - BY T. S. ARTHUR. - - - [SEE ENGRAVINGS.] - -The eve of All Saint’s Day is memorable in Scotland as a time when the -fairies hold a grand anniversary, and when witches and evil beings are -abroad on errands of mischief. This superstition, modified in various -ways, finds a place also among the peasantry of other nations. In the -United States, Halloween used to be observed by country maidens as a -time for trying sweethearts, and gaining such an intelligible peep into -futurity as would enable them to find out whether they would be married -or not; and if that happy event was to crown their lives, who would be -the man of their choice. And even at this time, “Hallow-Eve,” as it is -called, is not suffered to come and go without the effort of some loving -maidens to penetrate the mystery of their matrimonial future. The modes -of trying sweethearts, and the various love tests applied, are curious -enough. Burning nuts, the love-candle, eating an apple before the -looking-glass at midnight, the salt egg, and dropping melted lead -through a key into a basin of water, are a few of them, and all must be -accompanied by particular ceremonies or incantations, in order that they -may have the desired power to lift the veil of futurity. - -A few years ago we spent Halloween in the family of a friend who resides -fifty miles away from any large town in the interior of Pennsylvania. He -had three marriageable daughters, who, it may be presumed, felt as much -interest in the great question of matrimony as is usual in girls of -their ages; and, on the occasion referred to, something of what they -thought and felt was clearly enough displayed. One member of this family -was an old aunt, whose kind, gentle character and cheerful disposition, -made her a favorite with all. She was a widow. Twenty years had gone by -since the grass became green over the grave of her husband. She often -referred to the past, but not in a spirit of sadness or regret. And when -she spoke of her husband, the allusion seemed more to one who was living -than dead. And living, in fact, he was to her. The deep affection that -was in her heart, made him ever present to her thoughts, and she lived -in full confidence of a re-union when she, too, should lay off the -mortal robes that enveloped her spirit, and rise into a true and -substantial life. - -To be with Aunt Edith for half an hour, was to feel toward her as toward -an old friend. In less than that time, on our first meeting, I was as -much at home with her as if we had been acquainted for years. For her -young nieces, Aunt Edith entertained the warmest affection. It is -doubtful if she could have loved her own children more tenderly. She was -ever ready to take an interest in what interested them; and entered into -all their pleasures with a heartiness that made them her own. On the -evening to which I have referred, as we sat pleasantly conversing before -a bright fire in the parlor, almost the first of the season, Aunt Edith -said, as if the thought had just occurred to her, addressing, as she -spoke, the oldest of her nieces, - -“Why, Maggy, dear, this is Hallow-Eve. Have you forgotten?” - -“So it is!” cried Maggy, in return, clapping her hands together with -girlish enthusiasm. - -“Hallow-Eve!” chimed in Kate, the youngest of the three. “Oh, we must -try sweethearts to-night!” - -“Sweethearts!” said Mr. Wilmot, the father of the girls, in a grave -voice. “Nonsense! Nonsense, child! What do you want to know about -sweethearts?” - -Kate slightly blushed, but her smile was so radiant, that it quickly -extinguished the deeper hue that had come over her bright, young -countenance. She did not, however, reply to her father’s question, but -looked into the face of Aunt Edith for encouragement. - -“Wait awhile, dear,” said Aunt Edith, “your father don’t understand -these matters. But I was a young girl once, and know all about them.” - -“Trying sweethearts! Why I thought that custom was peculiar only to the -Scotch and Irish peasantry.” - -Aunt Edith looked at me and smiled. - -“In cities,” she replied, “these customs are hardly known, but here they -have always prevailed among portions of the people. Halloween, though -not kept with the formality attending the occasion in the rural -districts of Ireland or Scotland, is yet remembered by hundreds of young -maidens who live far away from the great towns, and who improve the -occasion to get, if possible, a peep into futurity, and read therein an -answer to their heart’s eager questions.” - -“Can it really be,” said I, in return, “that superstition like this -prevails in an age and among a people so enlightened. Fortune-tellers -would find a rich harvest in these regions.” - -“Not richer, I presume,” returned Aunt Edith, “than among your more -enlightened dwellers in cities.” - -“True, we have fortune-tellers and astrologers in abundance, and they -appear to find enough silly people to encourage and support them. But -what is the nature of these love tests that so many of your country -maidens apply on Hallow-Eve?” - -Aunt Edith smiled as she answered, - -“They are of various kinds. Among the most common is burning nuts on the -hearth. A young maiden will take two nuts, and naming one for the man -who is, or whom she would like to have for her sweetheart, and the other -for herself, she puts them in the fire, and accordingly as they burn -quietly together, or start from beside one another, will be the future -relation toward each other by the lad and lassie. Don’t you remember -these verses in Burns’ “Halloween”: - - The auld guidwife’s well hoordit nits - Are round an’ round divided - An’ monie lads’ an’ lassies’ fates - Are there that night decided; - Some kindle, couthie,[1] side by side, - And burn thegither trimly; - Some start awa’ with saucy pride, - And jump out ower the chimlie - Fu’ high that night. - - Jean slips in twa wi’ tentie e’e,[2] - Wha ’twas she wadna tell; - But this is _Jock_, an’ this is _me_, - She says in to hersel; - He bleezed ower her, an’ she ower him, - As they wad ne’er mair part! - ’Till fuff,[3] he started up the lum,[4] - An’ Jean had e’en a sair heart - To see ’t that night. - ------ - -[1] Lovingly. - -[2] Watchful eye. - -[3] With a puff or bounce. - -[4] Chimney. - ------ - -The girls were all listening with fixed attention, and even Mr. Wilmot -was interested. - -“This, as I remarked,” continued Aunt Edith, “is one of the commonest -modes of trying sweethearts. There are many others, and some of them -involve ordeals that would make the stoutest nerves quiver.” - -“Did you ever try any of them?” I inquired, half forgetting myself in -asking so pointed a question. - -“Perhaps I have,” replied Aunt Edith, smilingly. “A young maiden will go -through a great deal, in order to get some kind of an answer to a -question that so deeply involves her happiness. But you mus’n’t expect -me to make any confessions.” - -“Oh no, we wont ask that,” said I, “but you will not object to relating -some experiments of this kind that you have known others make?” - -“Certainly not. When I was a young girl, a great deal more attention was -paid to the Eve of All Saints’ Day than at present, and love-stricken -lasses would look forward for months for its arrival, in order to try -their sweethearts. You remember Lizzie Wells, afterward Mrs. Jackson?” - -“Oh, very well,” replied Mr. Wilmot, to whom the question was addressed. - -“I shall never forget one of her attempts to raise the spirit of her -future spouse. Poor girl! It turned out rather a serious matter for the -time. She was a timid, bashful thing, and was particularly sensitive -when any one jested with her about a sweetheart. It is usually the case, -that love charms are tried by at least two, and sometimes three or four -girls, in order that they may brace up each other’s courage. But Lizzie -had no sister as a confidante, and there was no maiden of her -acquaintance to whom she would betray the anxiety she felt on the -momentous subject of love. So, on Hallow-Eve she must try her sweetheart -all alone, or still remain in doubt. But doubt had pressed upon her -bosom until it could be borne no longer. As the day that closed the -month of October began to fade into twilight, Lizzie’s resolution in -regard to a certain experiment, which had been strong when the bright -sun looked down from the sky, began to waver. Clouds had heaved -themselves up in the west, and the cold autumn wind began to moan among -the old forest trees. The young girl felt a creeping shudder pass -through her frame, as her imagination pictured the weird hour of -midnight, and herself, alone, seeking by strange rites to conjure up the -spirit of her lover. But the thought of one who, of all others she had -yet seen, embodied in her eyes the highest human perfections, and the -uncertainty that accompanied this thought, brought her mind back again -to its first resolution. To have some sure knowledge on this subject, -was worth almost any trial, and the strong desire she felt for its -possession, nerved her heart for the task she had laid upon herself. - -“As night closed in, the air became tempestuous. The wind rushed and -moaned through the trees that were near and around her father’s -dwelling. Every window rattled, and the shutters and gates seemed as if -moved by some spirit-hands, for they were still scarcely a moment at a -time. Lizzie saw in all this disturbance of the elements a sign that -weird ones were abroad, and you may well suppose that her heart trembled -when she thought of the experiment she was about to make. When -Hallow-Eve occurred just one year before, she had tried one of the -ordinary love charms; but its indications were not satisfactory to her -mind.” - -“What was it?” asked Kate. - -“The salt egg,” replied Aunt Edith. - -“Oh!” - -“The salt egg?—what is that?” I inquired. - -“One or two, or more young girls, as the case may happen to be,” said -Aunt Edith, “sit up until the witching hour of midnight. Then in the -ashes they roast each an egg, from which, after it is done, the hard -yolk is taken, and the cavity made in the egg by this removal, filled -with salt. Precisely at twelve o’clock at night, the white of the egg is -to be eaten with this salt, and then, without drinking, the parties go -to bed. Of course, they get very dry in the night and dream of water, -and, it is averred that, in the dream, the spirit of the lover presents -a cup of water. If the damsel dream that she takes the water and drinks -it, the one by whom it is presented will be her future husband; but if -she refuse to take it, she will not marry the man, and there are chances -in favor of her dying a maid.” - -“Did you ever try the salt egg, aunty?” inquired Kate, with an arch -look. - -“Nonsense, child! Don’t ask your aunt such a question,” said Mr. Wilmot, -laughing. - -“Yes, dear,” was the good-humored reply. “I’ve tried that charm.” - -“And how did it come out?” asked Maggy, and Jane both at once. - -“All right,” returned Aunt Edith, while a beautiful smile played about -her features. “Well,” she continued, “as I was saying, Lizzie had tried -the salt egg, but it had not proved so satisfactory as she had desired, -and she resolved to work out a deeper charm, and to interrogate the -future by a more earnest rite. What this should be, had for many days -been a subject of debate in her mind. The most certain spell was that of -the south running spring or rivulet. But not within half a mile was -there such a stream in the right location. To make this trial of -sweethearts a sure one, the person must go after dark, to a stream -running south, and just where three estates meet, dip the left sleeve in -the water. She must then sleep in a room where there is a fire, and on -going to bed, hang the garment with the wet sleeve to dry. Of course, -she must lie awake until midnight, at which time the spirit of the -future husband will enter the room, go up to the fire, turn the sleeve -as if to dry the other side, and then go away again. But, as I said, -this ceremony was out of the question, for Lizzie, even if her nerves -would have been strong enough for the trial, there being no southward -running spring within a convenient distance. Other plans were next -debated, and the final conclusion was to eat an apple before a -looking-glass, just as the clock struck twelve, in the hope of seeing -the apparition of her spouse to be, looking at her over her shoulder. At -first thought this may seem but a little matter, but let any one try it, -and she will find her courage put to a severe test. - -[Illustration: _Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine._ - -THE LOVE TESTS OF HALLOWE’EN.—No. 1.] - -“A dozen times, as the lonely evening passed away and Lizzie hearkened -to the troubled roar of the storm without—for the rain had begun to -fall—did her heart fail her. But the intense desire she felt to know -something certain in regard to her lover, brought back her wavering -resolution. There was no one at home but her father and mother, and they -retired to bed, as was their usual custom, about nine o’clock. Three -hours yet remained before the all-potent love test could be tried, and -there was full time for Lizzie’s already weakened nerves to become -sensitive to the utmost degree. In order to make the time pass less -wearily, she took up some work and tried to sew. But her hand was so -tremulous that she could not hold the needle, and after a few trials, -she was forced to abandon the attempt. She next tried to read, but with -no better success. Her eyes passed from word to word over the open page, -but there was not the slightest connection between the words in the book -and the ideas that were passing through her mind. Half an hour was spent -in this way, and then, startled by a noise as of some one trying to open -the outside door, she looked up and listened intently, while her heart -throbbed so heavily that she could distinctly hear every pulsation, and -feel them as strokes upon her bosom. As she listened, other sounds -became apparent. There was the noise, as of feet, walking around the -house; voices were heard in the moaning wind, and cries from the distant -forest. Now, there seemed to be a knocking at the window-pane, and she -half turned herself to look, her heart shrinking lest some fearful -apparition should meet her eyes. Even in the room the deep silence was -broken by strange sounds—something rustled in one corner, and rattled -in another; and even the fire blazed on the hearth with an unearthly -murmur, while the sparks flew suddenly out, and darted across the room -as if instinct with some living purpose. - -“Thus it was that the hours crept slowly on. But still firm to her -purpose, Lizzie, though her heart was almost paralyzed with -superstitious fear, kept her lonely vigil. At length the clock, which -had ticked with a louder and louder noise as time wore on toward -midnight, pointed to the minute mark before twelve. Up to this tone the -storm without had been steadily increasing. But now there came a sudden -lull in the tempest, and the roar of the wind sunk into a low, sobbing -moan, that sounded strangely human. - -“The hour had come. Upon the table by which Lizzie sat, stood the -candle, and near it the apple which must be eaten as a part of the spell -that was to raise the spirit of her lover. Strongly tempted was Lizzie, -at this crisis, to rush from the room and abandon the bold experiment. -Both hands of the clock would be on the point that marked the close of -Halloween in a few seconds, and if she did not act now, the secret she -so ardently desired to penetrate would still be hidden from her eyes. -She felt awful in that moment of deep suspense. Her heart ceased for an -instant to beat, and then bounded on again in troubled throbbings. Then, -with a kind of desperate energy, she caught up the candle and apple, and -turned to the glass that hung against the wall. As she did so, the brief -lull in the tempest expired, and the wind, as if it had gained new -power, rushed past with a wilder sound, and shook the house to its very -foundation. - -“One glance into the mirror, as the hammer of the clock began to fall -sufficed. A wild scream, thrilling through the house, accompanied by a -noise as of some one falling heavily, aroused the sleeping parents. When -they descended to the room below, they found Lizzie prostrate on the -floor in a state of total insensibility.” - -“Why, aunt!” exclaimed Kate, in a husky voice. - -“What did she see?” asked Maggy, who had been listening with breathless -attention. - -“It was many hours before the frightened girl came back to -consciousness,” said Aunt Edith. “I saw her on the day afterward, and -she looked as if she had been sick for a month. We were intimate, and on -my asking her some questions, she told me what she had done, and avowed -that, as she looked into the glass, she distinctly saw the face of a man -peering over her shoulder.” - -“But you didn’t believe her,” said Mr. Wilmot. - -“Did she know the person whom she saw?” asked Maggy. - -“Yes. She told me who it was; and they were afterward married.” - -“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Wilmot. “I’m really surprised at you, sister! -You will turn these silly girls’ heads. You surely don’t believe that -she saw any face in the glass besides her own.” - -“In imagination she did, without doubt. The fact of her fainting from -alarm shows that.” - -“But you say, Aunt Edith, that she afterward married the person she -saw?” - -“Yes, dear. But that is no very strange part of the story. Young ladies -are not famous for keeping secrets, you know. I told a young friend, in -confidence, of course, what Lizzie had told me. She, though bound to -secrecy, very naturally confided the story to her particular friend and -confidante, and so it went, until the young man came to hear of it. It -so happened that both he and Lizzie were rather modest sort of young -people, and, though mutually in love with each other, shrunk from -letting any signs thereof become manifest. At a distance the young man -worshiped, scarcely hoping that he would ever be, in the eyes of the -maiden, more than a friend or acquaintance. But, when he heard of the -love test, and was told that his face had appeared to the maiden, he -took courage. The next time he met Lizzie, he drew to her side as -naturally as iron draws to the magnet; and as he looked into her mild -blue eyes, he saw that they were full of tenderness. The course of true -love ran smoothly enough after that. On next Halloween they were made -one, in the very room where, a year before, the never-to-be-forgotten -love charm was tried.” - -On the next morning neither of the sisters were very bright. Maggy was -pale; Jane did not make her appearance at the breakfast table, and Kate -looked so thoughtful as she sipped her coffee with a spoon, and only -pretended to eat, that her mother inquired seriously as to the cause. - -Kate blushed, and seemed a little confused, but said nothing was the -matter. - -“I hope you have not been so silly as to try sweethearts,” remarked Mr. -Wilmot. - -Instantly the tell-tale blood mounted to the brow of Kate. Maggy, -likewise, found her color, and rather more of it than her cheeks were -wont to bear. - -“Why girls!” exclaimed the father, who had spoken more in jest than in -earnest. “Can it be possible—” - -But, before he could finish the sentence, both Kate and Maggy had risen -from the table—their faces like scarlet—and were hastily leaving the -room. - -“Really,” said Mr. Wilmot, “I thought better of them girls! What -nonsense! This is all your fault, sister. I shouldn’t at all wonder if -you were up with them trying _your_ sweetheart.” - -Aunt Edith smiled, in her quiet, self-possessed way, as she replied— - -“I hardly think, brother, you will find it any thing more serious than -eating a salt egg on going to bed, or some trifling affair like that; -for which I can readily excuse a young maiden.” - -“To think they should be so weak as to believe in nonsense of this -kind!” said the father. “I hoped that my daughters had better sense.” - -“Don’t take the matter so seriously, brother,” replied Aunt Edith to -this. “It has only been a little frolick.” - -“It has been rather a serious one, I should think, to judge from the -effects produced. Jane, I presume, is too much indisposed to get up; and -I am sure both Maggy and Kate look as if they had been sick for a week.” - -“They’ll all come out bright enough before noon. Don’t fear for that.” - -The girls, however, were not themselves again during the whole day. -Jane’s absence from the breakfast table was in consequence of a nervous -headache, from which she suffered nearly all day. And Kate and Maggy -continued to look thoughtful, and to keep as much away from the rest of -the family as possible. - -It out, before night, that each of the girls, on retiring at twelve -o’clock, had eaten a “salt egg.” The consequence to Jane was a sick -headache; and the others did not feel much better. As to their dreams, -they wisely kept their own counsel. That these had some effect upon -their spirits, was, no doubt correctly, inferred. - -“That a young girl, after sitting up until twelve o’clock at night, -thinking of a certain nice young man, and then eating half a cupfull of -salt, should dream that she was thirsty, and that this certain young man -came and offered her water to drink, is not a very wonderful occurrence, -and might be accounted for on very natural principles.” - -“Of course,” replied Aunt Edith, to whom the remark was made, as we sat, -all but the girls, conversing before the parlor fire on the evening of -that day. “And yet I have known of cases where the dreams that came were -singularly prophetic. As for instance. A young friend of mine, when I -was a girl, tried, though under engagement of marriage, this experiment. -She dreamed that her lover came and offered her water, and that she -declined taking it, which is considered an unfavorable omen. In a month -afterward, although the time for the wedding was fixed, the young man -deserted her for another.” - -“All that may have occurred,” said Mr. Wilmot, “without there being any -connection between the dream and the after event.” - -“Oh, certainly. Yet you must own that the coincidence was a little -singular,” returned Aunt Edith. - -“There are hundreds of coincidences occurring daily that are far more -remarkable.” - -“Very true. But will you say positively that indications of things about -to occur are never given? That no shadow of a coming event is ever -projected upon our pathway as we move through life?” - -“As I do not _know_, positively, any thing on the subject, I will assert -nothing. But, as a general principle, we are aware that Providence -wisely withholds from us a knowledge of the future, in order that we may -remain in perfect freedom. If the knowledge of future events was given, -our freedom would be destroyed, for the certainty of approaching -calamity, or favorable fortune, would destroy our ability to act -efficiently in the present. And as, for so good a reason, our Creator -draws a veil over the future, I think it wrong for us to use any means -for the removal of that veil.” - -“To any one,” replied Aunt Edith, “whose mind is as clear on this -subject as yours, all seeking after future knowledge would be wrong. But -all are not so enlightened. All have not the intelligence or ability to -think wisely on Providence and its operations with men. To such, in -their weakness, the kind Providence that withholds as a general good, -may grant particular glimpses into the future, as the result of certain -forms which may determine spiritual influences; as was the case in -ancient times, when oracles gave their mysterious answers.” - -“I’m afraid, sister,” said Mr. Wilmot, “that you have a vein of -superstition in your character.” - -“No,” returned Aunt Edith. “I believe I am as free from superstition as -one need wish to be. But I look upon the operations of Providence with -man as designed for his spiritual good, and as coming down to meet him -even in his lowest and most ignorant state, in order to elevate him. -There may be a condition of the human mind that needs, for its aid, some -sign from the world of spirits; and wherever that state exists, such -signs will be given. In the barbarous times of any nation, we find a -belief in supernatural agencies—in signs, tokens, and oracles—a -prominent characteristic. This is not so much an accidental circumstance -as a Providential arrangement, by which to keep alive in the mind the -idea of a spiritual world. The same is true among the unenlightened -classes at the present day; and the reason is of a similar character. To -people who know no better than to seek, by certain forms, to penetrate -the future, true answers may be permitted sometimes to their inquiries; -and this for a higher good than the one they are seeking.” - -At this point in the conversation the young ladies came into the room, -and the subject was changed. During the evening allusion was again made -to the topic upon which so much had already been said, when, in answer -to some question asked of Aunt Edith, she related the following: - -“Before I was married,” said she, “there was a certain young man who -paid me many attentions, but whom, from some cause or other, I did not -particularly fancy. He was an excellent young man, of a good family, -and, as sober and industrious as any one in the neighborhood. Still, for -all this, I felt more like repulsing than giving him encouragement. He -saw that I avoided him when I could do so without appearing rude, and -this made him more distant; yet I could see that his mind was on me. I -would often meet his eyes when we were in company; and he would come to -my side whenever he could do so without appearing to be intrusive. His -many excellent qualities, and the manliness of character for which he -was distinguished, prevented me from treating him otherwise than -respectfully. As a friend, I liked him, but when he approached, as was -evidently the case, in the character of a lover, I could not be -otherwise than cold and reserved. There were two or three other young -men who appeared fond of my company, any one of whom I would have -accepted, had he offered himself, in preference to this one. - -“Such was the state of my love affairs, when Halloween came round. A -cousin, a young girl about my own age, was spending a few weeks in our -family, and she and I talked over the matter of trying sweethearts. -After looking at the subject in its various lights and shades, we -finally determined to summon up the requisite courage, and burn a -love-candle. So, after all the family were in bed, which was not until -after eleven o’clock, we began to make preparations for this ceremony. -Burning the love-candle is done in this way. A table is set with bread, -cakes and fruit; or any other articles of food that may be selected. -Plates for as many guests as are expected are also put upon the table; -but no knives or forks, lest the guests should, by any accident, harm -themselves. A little before midnight a candle, in which a row of nine -new pins have been placed just below the wick, is lighted and set upon -the table. The distance between the row of pins and the burning end of -the candle must not be greater than will melt away by the time the hour -of twelve strikes. When the candle burns down to the pins, they drop one -after the other, and just as the last one falls, the apparitions of the -future husbands of those who try the charm will enter, it is said, sit -down to the table and eat, and then rise up and go away. - -“Well, Lydia and I determined that we would try this love charm; so we -arranged our table, placed upon it the candle in which were stuck the -row of nine new pins, and sat down to await the arrival of the hour that -was to open for us a page of the future. I shall never forget the -deathlike stillness that reigned for a time through the room; nor how I -started when the old house-dog suddenly raised, almost under the window, -a long, low, melancholy howl. My heart seemed to beat all over my body, -and I could feel the hair rising on my head. After a quarter of an hour -had elapsed, we lit the candle and returned to our seats on the opposite -side of the room to that in which the table was standing, almost -crouching down in our chairs. As we did so, one of the shutters, which -was merely drawn to without being fastened, flew open suddenly, and was -slammed back against the side of the house, at the same time the wind -began rushing and moaning through the trees. I felt awful. Spirits -seemed all around me, and I looked every moment for some fearful -apparition to blast our sight with its presence. - -[Illustration: _Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine._ - -THE LOVE TESTS OF HALLOWE’EN.—No. 2.] - -“Steadily the hand passed from point to point, and from figure to figure -on the dial of the clock, my feelings becoming more and more excited -every moment. At last came the warning that is given just before the -striking of the hour, and the minute hand had but a point or two to pass -before it was on the sign of twelve. My very breath was suspended. A few -moments more, and then the hammer of the clock fell, and each stroke -appeared as if made upon my heart. Suddenly there came a rush of wind -past the house, and strange, wild, mournful tones it made; then the door -swung open, and in came the apparition of a man. I saw in an instant -that it was the one of whom I have spoken. His face had a fixed, dreamy, -and, it seemed to me, troubled expression. He went up, slowly, to the -table, and sitting down at my plate, took some fruit. For the space of -nearly a minute it seemed to me, he remained there motionless; but did -not eat. Then rising he turned away and left the room. During the brief -period he remained, he manifested not the slightest consciousness of our -presence. You may be sure we did not remain long after he had retired, -but went tremblingly up stairs, half frightened out of our wits, and -buried ourselves beneath the clothes without stopping to remove our -garments, where we lay and shivered as if both of us had ague fits. - -“Well, sure enough,” continued Aunt Edith, “it turned out as the sign -had indicated. I was married to the young man, and my cousin died an old -maid. It was all folly I thought to struggle against my fate, and so -from that memorable ‘Hallow-Eve’ received my lover’s attentions with -favor.” - -“And were you so weak as to believe that any one did really come in?” -said Mr. Wilmot. - -“I was,” returned Aunt Edith. - -“It was all your imagination,” said the brother, positively. - -“No, I believe not. I don’t think it was possible for both of our eyes -to be deceived.” - -“Then your cousin saw it too?” - -“So she would have averred, had you asked her the day before her death.” - -Mr. Wilmot shook his head; while the girls looked credulous. I noticed -that Kate glanced slightly around, every now and then, half fearfully. - -“One day,” resumed Aunt Edith, “about two years after our marriage, -something favoring an allusion to the subject, I said to my -husband—‘There is one thing that I never could bring myself to mention, -and I hardly like to do it now.’ ‘What is that?’ he asked. I then -related to him, minutely, all that I have told you this evening. He -looked grave, and was thoughtful for some time. Then he said—‘And there -is also one thing about which I have never felt free to speak to you. I -remember that night well, and shall have cause to remember it as long as -I live.’ ‘Were you conscious of any thing?’ I asked eagerly. ‘Yes, of a -great deal,’ he replied. ‘I saw, in fact, all that passed.’ ‘In a -dream?’ said I. ‘No, while awake—as fully awake as at this time. To -throw off all disguise, and speak without mystery, I happened on that -night to be going home at a late hour, and in passing your house saw a -light streaming through a small opening in the shutter. It instantly -occurred to me that you might be up and engaged in some love -experiments, as it was Hallow-Eve; so, stealing up softly, and peeping -in, I saw that I was not in error. No very long time was spent in -determining what to do. My decision I marked by suddenly jerking the -shutter back, and slamming it loudly against the house. Concealed by the -darkness, I perceived the effect of this. It was what I had anticipated. -You did not in the least suspect the truth. As plainly as if I had been -in the room, I could now see all that was passing; and, as I understood -the particular charm you were trying, knew precisely what part I was to -act in the ceremony. So, as I had all along believed myself to be the -favored one, although you somehow or other appeared to think -differently, I took the liberty of walking in, just as the clock struck -twelve.” - -At this part of Aunt Edith’s story she was interrupted by a burst of -laughter from all in the room. - -“And so that was the explanation of the great mystery?” said Mr. Wilmot. -“The troubled spirit was a real flesh and blood visiter after all.” - -“Yes. And in my heart I forgave him for the trick he played off upon me -so adroitly.” - -“Why, Aunt Edith!” exclaimed Maggy, taking a long breath. “How you -frightened me! I really thought it was a spirit that had entered!” - -“No, child. Spirits, I believe, are not apt to walk about and visit -love-sick maidens, even on Halloween, for all that may be paid to the -contrary. The instance given you is the best authenticated I have ever -known.” - -This relation furnished abundant food for merriment, as well as for some -sage reflections during the evening, and even Maggy, Jane and Kate saw -reason to join with the rest in laughing over the folly of Love Tests at -Halloween. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE ODALISQUE. - - - BY BAYARD TAYLOR. - - - In marble shells the fountain splashes; - Its falling spray is turned to stars, - When some light wind its pinion dashes - Against thy gilded lattice-bars. - Around the shafts, in breathing cluster, - The roses of Damascus run, - And through the summer’s moons of lustre - The tulip’s goblet drinks the sun. - - The day, through shadowy arches fainting, - Reveals the garden’s burst of bloom, - With lights of shifting iris painting - The jasper pavement of thy room: - Enroofed with palm and laurel bowers, - Thou see’st, beyond, the cool kiosk, - And far away, the penciled towers - That shoot from many a stately mosque. - - The voice of bird and tinkling water - Sounds cheerly in the cloudless morn, - That comes to thee, its radiant daughter, - Across the glittering Golden Horn; - And like the wave, whose flood of brightness - Is seen alone by eyes on shore, - Thy sunlit being moves in lightness - Nor knows the beauty all adore. - - Thou hast no world beyond the chamber - Whose inlaid marbles mock the flowers, - Where burns thy lord’s chiboque of amber, - To charm the languid evening hours. - There sounds, for thee, the fond lute’s yearning - Through all enchanted tales of old, - And spicy cressets, dimly burning, - Swing on their chains of Persian gold. - - No more, in half-remembered vision, - Thy distant childhood comes to view; - That star-like world of shapes Elysian - Has faded from thy morning’s blue: - The eastern winds that cross the Taurus - Have now no voice of home beyond, - Where light waves foam in endless chorus - Against the walls of Trebizond. - - For thee the Past may never reckon - Its hoard of saddening memories o’er, - Nor voices from the Future beckon - To joys that only live in store. - Thy life is in the gorgeous Present, - An orient summer, warm and bright;— - No gleam of beauty evanescent, - But one long time of deep delight. - - * * * * * - - - - - JESSIE LINCOLN: - - - OR THE CITY VISITERS. - - - BY MISS M. J. B. BROWNE. - - - CHAPTER I. - -The village of N., reader, where the scene of my story is laid, is truly -a most lovely place, so far certainly as Nature is responsible; for a -broad, beautiful river bounds it on one side, and a fine range of -mountains, picturesquely grand, screen it on another. Wealth, too, has -joined hands with Nature to assist in the perfect completion of what -_she_ had left as it were unfinished. Sweet cottages nestling in green -shrubbery, and elegant mansions surrounded by spacious gardens and -lawns, glistening with fountains or shady with groves, reveal to the -beholder a harmonious conspiracy between taste and affluence to picture -Paradise in daguerreotype—everything must be in daguerreotype in these -days. - -But the _moral_—perhaps it would be more charitable to say the -_conventional_ aspect of the village, is not so lovely as the natural -aspect. A certain line of distinction has been drawn in society, and has -long been assuming a greater and greater stringency, as an old -generation passes away, and a new one refining upon its ancestor -succeeds it. It is not the aristocracy of family and birth—the pride of -nobility, as in England—nor the aristocracy of wit and talent, as in -France—nor yet the true aristocracy of intellect and moral worth—but -the peculiarly American aristocracy of money! Caste, determined by the -possession or non-possession of estates and bank-stock, is scarcely more -rigidly guarded on Hindoo ground than here—and intermarriages between -the “higher and lower classes”—ridiculous names it is true, to be -applied to society in republican democratic America—are regarded as -sufficient reason for casting off all association with the _degraded_ -party, whatever rank said party may have sustained before. - -And here I cannot forbear a passing remark on the obvious inconsistency -of this principle. The accidents of fortune are so very variable, and -its mutations such matters of every day experience, that a more -fluctuating or uncertain standard of station could not possibly have -been chosen. The possessor of half a million to-day, in a few years may -die alone and in penury, the miserable tenant of a deserted garret, -while the ragged, shivering, homeless boy, who pays his last hardly -earned copper for the privilege of sleeping on an untenanted board, may -at length find himself in the enjoyment of the “highest honors in the -gift of his country-men,” the honorable master of thousands, with a once -starving and outcast beggar child the sharer of his emoluments and the -elegant mistress of his mansion. The _son_ of the rich man may die -unknown and unblessed in the prison or the almshouse, “while the son of -the maid servant who cleaned the President’s kitchen,” may be carried to -the “white house” in triumph, the chief magistrate of a great and -powerful nation. But pardon my digression, dear reader—I needed not to -_pen your own sentiments_. It is time I should introduce you to some of -my people, if I would interest you, as I hope I may, in their -acquaintance. - -The “first and best” lady in the village of N. was Mrs. Josepha Tower. -This lady was a widow, and in every respect, in heart, and mind, and -manners, she was a truly elegant and accomplished woman. She belonged in -a measure to the “old school,” and she possessed an uncommon share of -sterling common sense, and the firmest and most uncompromising Christian -principle. She was the possessor, too, of ample wealth, and diffused it -with a liberality which reflected honor on her generosity, as well as -poured a stream of happiness into her bereaved and widowed heart. The -earlier part of Mrs. Tower’s life had been passed in a Southern city, -though she was proud to claim a birth-right on New England’s soil, and -an affinity with the upright and earnest New England heart in her -purposes and dispositions. When the cholera with pestilential breath -swept over the city of C——, it numbered among its victims her husband -and her only child; and as the staff and centre of her hopes were thus -suddenly cut down at a single stroke, Mrs. Tower turned her face toward -the home of her childhood, and sought amid the green hills and quiet -streams, where those fresh and careless years had been passed, for that -alleviation to her sorrows which she must have sought in vain among -scenes where her irreparable losses would be constantly suggested by -contact and association. She came forth from the furnace of her -affliction like gold seven times purified, and resolutely declining even -the consideration of a second marriage while her heart was bound so fast -in its wedlock to the grave, she consecrated her influence and her -wealth to the noble purpose of promoting the well-being and the -happiness of her fellow sojourners in a wilderness world. The star of -her hope had gone out while she yet watched it in midheaven, and why -should she not henceforward bind herself to the unselfish aim of -spreading abroad the joy which had taken its flight from her own bosom, -leaving in its place a calm and holy resignation? So to the north and to -the south, to the east and to the west, “from the river to the ends of -the earth,” flowed the rills, all fresh and fertilizing, which found -their reservoir in her kindly and world-embracing benevolence. - -Every thing tasteful and elegant in the matter of household -appointments, was always to be found at Mrs. Tower’s. Books, not laid -upon the shelves of her library merely to dazzle by their gilding, but -to be read by every body who would read—pictures and statues—for she -was a generous patroness of the arts—music and flowers, and the most -refined and polished society, were among the most familiar attractions -one always found at the residence of that excellent lady; and yet I tell -my readers only the truth when I say that with all her wealth, and her -truly enviable social position, Mrs. Tower was the only woman in the -whole circle of N. aristocracy who had independence enough to bid -defiance to conventional proscription, and invite whom she pleased to -tea with her—whether it was the President’s lady or her washer-woman. -Mrs. Tower to be sure had too much politeness to invite those whom she -knew her aristocratic neighbors did not choose to recognize as equals -when she invited _them_; but she heartily despised the principle which -governed her wealthier acquaintances, in excluding the worthy poor from -their society _because_ they were poor; and in the face of all -expostulation and astonishment, she disdained such unreasonable trammels -and acted accordingly, though she well knew what surprise her decision -occasioned, and what gossip it furnished. But the fault-finders—what -could they do? They could not proscribe Mrs. Tower, for she abounded in -that one great requisite for elevated station—a plenty of _money_—and -she could gather into her house more distinguished people from the -circle of her private acquaintance, than half the village put -together—they could not lose the pleasure of such agreeable levees as -Mrs. Tower made for strangers who were visiting her at all seasons of -the year. Beside, just now when my story commences, the young minister -of the village was an inmate of her family, and being unmarried and -unbetrothed, and there being at the same time a goodly number of young -ladies unmarried, but marriageable, in the most important families of -his parish, the minister, Rev. Louis Style, became a very interesting -character, aside from his public capacity, and the unconscious prize in -quite an extensive lottery. But more of the Rev. Louis Style anon. - - - CHAPTER II. - -One lovely evening in summer, a circle of young ladies was sitting in -the delicious moonlight that streamed fitfully through the glancing -leaves and fragrant clusters of honeysuckle that shaded the veranda of -Mrs. Tower’s residence, chatting joyfully—the _girls_ I mean—not the -honeysuckles or the moonlight, though I could not vouch that _they_ -exchanged no love whispers audible to the ears of fairies—laughing -merrily over the ices and fruit, and of course, gossiping. - -Mrs. Tower had been more than usually agreeable, though she was always -lovely; and as to Mr. Style, he had carried every heart. The girls had -all been completely captivated; some by his calm and manly beauty, and -some by the flashing brilliancy of his ripe and richly cultivated mind, -and some by those inexpressible fascinations, which, had he been a man -of the world, would have made him irresistible in all society. But Mr. -Style was a man of pure and exalted piety, and would have -conscientiously feared to use his slightest power to interest a heart to -which his own must stoop from its own moral height to meet, or to whose -affection he could not earnestly respond. Indeed so fastidious was the -Rev. Mr. Style, that he had never met the lady, as he determined, whom -he could cordially invite to the queenship of his affections. He was -verily so happy and contented as an inmate of Mrs. Tower’s family in the -pursuit of his daily duties—so happy in the satisfaction and regard of -his people, that it seldom occurred to him that “it is not good for a -man to be alone.” The mammas and blooming young ladies, however, adopted -that doctrine as one of the most important, prominent and practical of -the whole creed, and most especially did they set their faces against so -Popish a practice as the “celibacy of the clergy!” - -Mrs. Tower had withdrawn from the circle a few minutes to examine the -dispatches brought in by the evening mail, but returning soon with a -smile of unusual gladness illuminating her pensive face, and an open -letter in her hand, she said— - -“Well, girls, I have intelligence here that makes me very happy. I have -at length prevailed with a young friend of mine, to leave the city and -pass a few weeks with me during the hottest of the season, and I am so -very glad—” - -“O, so am I,” interrupted Miss Charlotte Varley, a very languishing -young lady, who had great hopes of success with Mr. Style, since she had -joined his communion and was a teacher in his Sabbath-school—but withal -a _belle_—“a young gentleman from the city will be very refreshing this -terrible weather—I hope he is a pious man, Mrs. Tower—we have so few -of those—and that he will bring us some new plans about Sabbath-schools -and benevolent societies such as are found to be most useful in the -city!” - -Miss Varley closed her remarks with a small sigh, and looked at Mr. -Style for pious sympathy. Mr. Style that moment turned away to pluck a -drooping blossom that hung near him, and some of the ruder minxes -indulged in mischievous glances and a smothered laugh. - -“I declare, Charlotte,” interposed Miss Emilie Jones, who was one of -Miss Varley’s most sincere despisers, “the effervescence of your regard -for Sabbath-schools and ‘cent societies,’ has quite anticipated the -sequel of Mrs. Tower’s story—you did not allow her time to say whether -we are to be favored by the accession of a _lady_ or a _gentleman_ to -our little country community—but consulting your own fancy, I suppose -you took it for granted it must be a ‘pious young gentleman.’” - -The color deepened in Charlotte’s really beautiful face, as a glimpse of -her ridiculous position flashed from Emilie’s playful satire, and to -increase her confusion, the girls all laughed more saucily than before. -There might have been some serious heart-burnings, but Mrs. Tower came -to the rescue. - -“Charlotte is entirely excusable, young ladies,” she said, “and I am -responsible for her remark by my own ambiguity. My friend is a _lady_, -and one of the loveliest of her sex in mind and heart. I have not seen -her since she grew into a woman, but I am confident from what I know of -the development of her character, I shall not be disappointed in the -promise of her childhood. She will be here in two weeks at most, and -possibly sooner. Now I am old and dull girls, and I shall draw largely -on your vivacity for her entertainment, at _first_ for _my_ sake, and -afterward, when you know her, for her own.” - -“O yes, indeed, Mrs. Tower,” promised the girls, and none more promptly -than Charlotte and Adelaide Varley, both for themselves and for their -mother and three sisters at home. They would specially make a party for -her, though they had determined to make _no_ parties till their friends, -Mrs. Tyler and her daughter, very genteel people from New York, should -come, which event could not certainly be hoped for at least for three -weeks. And Misses Charlotte and Adelaide telegraphed to each other, -while the rest were promising their attentions, how much pleasure it -must afford Mrs. Tyler and Elizabeth if they should happen to recognize -a city acquaintance in Mrs. Tower’s expected visiter—“as their -metropolitan friends,” Charlotte remarked, “were so very gay and -fashionable, they had sometimes languished in the country for a city -face or something that looked familiar.” - -“It must be a melancholy and most insupportable deprivation,” chimed in -Emilie Jones, “to spend a whole fortnight on the stretch in such an ugly -and unsightly village as this of N. has the reputation of being, -especially in the summer, and all that time, not so much as _see_ fiery -red brick palisades towering up on both sides of you, and pouring down -on your ‘devoted head’ a perfect torrent of heat! I am sure if I were -anybody’s ‘metropolitan friends,’ I should mourn being obliged to set my -feet on the cool grass! How I should miss the scorching them on a hot -pavement, to say nothing of the disadvantage to my lungs of inhaling -fresh clear air, instead of dust and cigar smoke, and all sorts of vile -fumes and abominations! What is your taste, Mr. Style?” - -“I am a great lover of the country, and particularly of this beautiful -village, Miss Emilie,” gallantly replied Mr. Style. - -“Well, well, Emilie, enough of your mischief for once,” said Adelaide -Varley, with a very severe smile which she meant for an indifferent one. -“We all know you are more wicked than citified. But my watch says it is -time to go home, and I guess Mrs. Tower will be glad to be rid of such a -set of chatter-boxes as we have proved ourselves this time.” - -“Mr. Style will write a livelier sermon for it, I’ll wager my thimble, -after he has slept upon the savor of our conversation,” said Emilie, as -she gave him her hand at parting, and turned gayly round to bid Mrs. -Tower good night. - -“Come again, dears, every one of you,” said Mrs. Tower, as she smiled on -the youthful group, “come every day and enliven us with the life of such -glad spirits. Mr. Style would lead a most monotonous life indeed if _I_ -were all the company he could have.” - -“You, indeed, my dearest Mrs. Tower,” replied Emilie. “That man is -verily avaricious who covets better or more charming society than our -most delightful hostess of this evening, to say nothing of the ice -creams and etceteras! Yes, worthy of stripes is he, whether clergyman or -layman!” - -And Emilie finished her speech with a quick glance at the young -minister, and her own peculiarly rich and musical shout of mirth, and -tripped lightly down the terrace and across the wide and shaded street -to her own home. - -As the other young ladies of the party had farther to go, Mr. Style took -them all under his protection, rendering particular assistance to Miss -Charlotte, who complained of excessive weariness and lassitude. Beside, -being occasionally afflicted with a difficulty of the heart, she could -not walk so fast as some of the girls, so Mr. Style found himself safely -at Mrs. Varley’s door with his delicate charge, many minutes after all -the others were laughing and speculating about it in their own rooms. - -“Well, Adelaide, what do you think of Mrs. Tower’s coaxing a very pretty -young lady to her house, to pass some weeks in company with the Rev. Mr. -Style?” said Charlotte, very sharply, as she ran upstairs to the parlor, -in double quick time, quite independent of the “heart difficulty,” that -had so impeded her progress home. - -“It’s downright scandalous!” said Miss Annette, the eldest daughter, -“and I should not wonder at any breeze it might raise in the church and -society—it may result in something very unpleasant indeed!” and Annette -shook her head very doubtfully. - -“It is ridiculous! Nothing but a trap, depend on it,” said Mrs. Varley, -for Adelaide had detailed the whole story with her own annotations long -before Charlotte reached home. - -“It is really a very presuming thing,” seriously responded Annette, -shaking her head still more dubiously. - -“Yes, yes—very presumptuous indeed!” sneered Mrs. Varley, who never had -any opinions, only those that were to be had at second hand. “Just as if -Mrs. Tower could not only dictate who we shall have for minister, but -also who he shall _marry_! for I declare, girls, it looks like -that—don’t it now?” - -“To be sure it does, mamma,” replied Annette; “you have hit the nail on -the head this time! It takes _you_ to see what folks are about behind -the scenes. Lottie, did you get any particulars about this person out of -Mr. Style, coming home—whether he ever saw her—whether she is rich and -fashionable, so it will do for _us_ to notice her—” - -“No, Annette, I did not learn any thing about her, though I asked -questions enough in all conscience,” fretted Charlotte. “But I think we -had better write immediately to Mrs. Tyler and find out something,” she -continued. “I declare, mamma,” and the tears started to her eyes for -very vexation and disappointment, “Mr. Style would not speak only on the -most indifferent subjects coming home, and if I don’t bring him to the -point soon, I don’t believe one of us will ever be married in the world, -and I will go to a convent! I _will_!” - -“Don’t say so, Lottie! don’t dear,” soothed the mamma—“only think what -good aim money takes at the hearts of men, and are we not _rich_, child; -and are not my daughters fine dashing girls, dressing as well as the -best of ’em, and wont they finally marry _jest as they please_? The -chaff always blows away first, they used to say when I was young!” - -“Well, who wants to wait forever, mother, for all that?” said Annette, -who really had waited a reasonable time, with her purse and her heart in -her hand, and yet no bidders. - -“_I_ for one, want to wait till I am _sought_,” said Adelaide, “and not -make such a ridiculous matter of it as Charlotte does, in her pursuit of -Mr. Style. The girls all laughed at your speeches, Lottie, till I am -heartily vexed and ashamed about the whole game. Do be a little wiser in -your demonstrations—” - -“I guess I’ll come and borrow some of the wisdom _you_ have to spare, -Miss,” retorted Charlotte, very angrily, as she rose and whisked out of -the room, slamming the door violently after her. - -Mrs. Varley and the three sisters, Annette, Almeda, and Cynthia, all -pounced upon Adelaide, who was really more shrewd and sensible than they -all, till she diverted them from the attack by a narration of what was -always interesting, the gossip she had gathered from one and another, -together with her own active surmises during the evening. - -“If you had seen how Emilie Jones acted, mamma—I could not help -thinking Mr. Style and Mrs. Tower were both delighted with her -impudence,” said Adelaide. “For my part, I think she is one of the -sauciest and most sarcastic imps I ever saw. If Capt. Jones was not so -rich and his family so influential, I would cut her acquaintance.” - -“And a mighty deal would she care for that,” replied Annette, “so long -as Mrs. Tower makes such friends of her and her mother. But did she tell -you that her father and George are coming home directly? Mrs. Jones was -here to-night, and she said so.” - -“No—she did not say a word about it. She makes no disclosures to me,” -returned Adelaide. “There will be another mark for our beautiful -Charlotte—the young lieutenant—if she does not succeed in her -‘ecclesiastical measures,’” she added, biting her lips in expectation of -a torrent of displeasure from her mother and sisters. It came, of -course, and in a fit of resentment and passion, she too flirted off to -bed. - - - CHAPTER III. - -The Varley family were very wealthy _in purse_, and it was the only -anchor with which they were able to fasten themselves on society. They -were ignorant, vulgar, and haughty, proud, unprincipled, and deceitful. -A more designing, intriguing, manœuvring woman than Mrs. Varley, can -seldom be met with, but her plans were all so superficially laid, and so -very shallow and short-sighted, they had so far unfortunately failed, at -least all the matrimonial alliances she had projected for her five -marriageable daughters—inasmuch as they all remained a heavy article in -a sated market. Charlotte was the youngest, and in person, so far as the -delicate tinting of the face and a faultless chiseling of form were -concerned, she possessed unusual loveliness. But the deformity of her -ill disciplined and misdirected mind, and the prominent weakness of her -character, were so apparent, that in the estimate of really sensible and -intelligent people, the one favorable item passed for almost nothing. - -Mrs. Varley had resolved to secure the Rev. Mr. Style for her youngest -daughter, and she determined that nothing should be left undone to -accomplish so desirable an object. Charlotte was herself too weak to -play her part _well_ in a well concerted scheme—but in a miserably lame -one, she played it wretchedly. Mr. Style saw to his infinite but -necessarily concealed disgust, the snare that was spread in his sight, -and though nothing in the world was easier than to escape, it subjected -him to a mortifying espionage, and most disagreeable caution in his -pastoral intercourse with his people. What the designs of others might -be he was too high-minded even to imagine; but there was no mistaking -Miss Charlotte Varley’s intentions, with eyes only half open. - -Since Mr. Style had been an inmate of Mrs. Tower’s household, Mrs. -Varley had been making perpetual attempts to place herself and her -daughters on a footing of intimacy there; but her efforts had been -unsuccessful, as Mrs. Tower was just as polite as ever, and just as -reserved as ever, leaving Mrs. Varley to guess at the reason. Of course -she put her own construction upon the matter, and never failed, when she -could find or make an opportunity, to hint at something unfavorable in -relation to Mrs. Tower. She did, as malicious people often do, foil -herself with her own weapons, for almost every body loved and admired -Mrs. Tower, and distrusted and disliked Mrs. Varley, though her wealth -and standing in society gave her a kind of influence and power, which -she and the five Misses Varley most industriously exerted. - -Mrs. Tower’s clear mind fathomed at a glance the intent of her neighbor, -but the sentinels about the out-posts of her prudence, were never for -once caught slumbering on duty, or taken in a moment of unguardedness; -and she sealed her discoveries in her own breast, leaving her friend and -protégé, the Rev. Mr. Style, to his own conclusions and his own -discretion. He longed to ask her if his observations tallied with hers, -but he feared it might savor of conceit, or wear some other unworthy -aspect in her eyes, so they remained mutually silent. - -Such was the condition of things when Mrs. Tower welcomed to her house -and her hospitalities the daughter of her early friend, sweet Jessie -Lincoln. An illness of a few days had delayed her arrival, but the -paleness it had left on her cheek only added a charm to her sad and -lovely face. - -“Now you are mine for a long, long time—for _always_, Jessie,” said -Mrs. Tower, as she folded the gentle girl to her heart. “How long I have -urged you, and now you are really with me at length? How like the Jessie -of my childhood you are, dearest, and how like the Jessie I laid beside -her father in the grave!” - -The awakening of painful remembrances brought the relief of mingled -tears to the childless widow and the orphan Jessie; but soon controlling -her emotions Mrs. Tower continued— - -“I shall preach one of my favorite doctrines in your ears, my dear -Jessie, till you are my proselyte indeed. This notion of yours about -dependence is _only_ a notion. It is banishing the bloom from your -cheek, and stealing from your whole youth the treasures of joyousness -which the young should especially garner. There is bitterness enough -laid up for meridian years, Jessie, without casting so deep a shadow -over the light and the hope of your girlhood. You must henceforth make -my house your home, and be my own daughter. Say, Jessie, will you not?” - -Poor Jessie could only reply with her tears. - -“At least you must consider the matter,” proceeded Mrs. Tower, “and if I -succeed in making your stay with me agreeable while you are my guest, I -shall certainly hope to persuade you. But dry those tears, Jessie. I -dare say I have opened the subject prematurely—if you are not too weary -for company to-night, I must take you down stairs and introduce you to -some ladies I see coming up the avenue, to sympathize in my -gladness—Mrs. Jones and her Emilie. Mrs. Jones is one of my dearest -friends, and Emilie is a wild, crazy-headed creature, but very sensible -and affectionate, and I am sure you will love her.” - -Jessie’s plain traveling-dress was exchanged for one of simple white -muslin, and the bright mass of her beautiful black hair, released from -its confinement, fell in smooth, heavy ringlets over her shoulders. Her -whole air was a harmonious combination of ladylike reserve and a native -born gentility, which education indeed may polish and improve, but can -never implant. Mrs. Tower fondly kissed the cheek of the graceful girl, -and then placing Jessie’s arm within her own, she led her with almost -maternal pride to the drawing-room. - -Mrs. Jones and her daughter welcomed the young stranger with the sincere -cordiality of old friends, and Emilie, who became immediately fascinated -with the simplicity and unassuming gentleness of her manner, expressed -the earnest hope that Miss Lincoln would be happy enough to spend the -whole summer. - -“If you have a country-loving taste, I am sure you cannot find a -lovelier spot than our own village, Miss Lincoln—or Jessie—as I mean -to call you when we are no longer strangers,” said Emilie, her brilliant -face sparkling with kindness, as she sat down on the sofa by Jessie’s -side. “There is every thing beautiful at Mrs. Tower’s I know,” she -continued, “but I am so wild, and so much of a rambler that I love the -forests and glens and waterfalls, and above all horseback excursions! We -have a pair of fine saddle-horses that papa has just brought -home—high-spirited creatures they are—they make me think of Zenobia’s -horses. Don’t you ride on horseback, Miss Jessie?” - -Jessie had never practiced at all. - -“O well! I can learn you in a very little time, and I’ll undertake to be -your tutor in horsemanship, for I am far more notable in it, than in -some _more_ feminine accomplishments. Do you hear my boast Mrs. Tower? I -have engaged to learn Miss Lincoln to ride on horseback, in which art I -have informed her _I excel_!” and Emilie laughed heartily at her own -nonsense. - -“No very unreasonable boast, Miss Emilie,” said Mr. Style; “and I think -Miss Lincoln would have no difficulty in believing every word, if she -had seen you practicing your Arabs this morning. I was confident your -neck would be broken! But have you found names for the horses yet? You -were in a grave study about that last evening!” - -“O yes, Mr. Style, I am happily relieved of that anxiety. I could not -think of christening them with those Quixotic names which you suggested, -for I knew I could never remember them—and I was so troubled to suit -myself, that I referred the whole matter to papa and George, and after a -protracted and laborious discussion, they declared for the illustrious -names of Romulus and Remus! I hope they may not quarrel for precedence, -as those old worthies did! Indeed I shall be wrathful enough if Romulus -practices any imposition or violence on Remus, for he is decidedly my -favorite, and not entirely a _non resistant_ I discover. But I shall -give Miss Lincoln her introductory lessons on my docile old Betty, who -has run so many delightful races for my pleasure. After that I purpose -to settle a pension on Betty, and leave her to enjoy a calm old age. O I -long to be about it! Will you be too tired to take your first ride -to-morrow morning, Miss Lincoln? Betty is quiet as a kitten, and will -kneel to take you on her back. Mrs. Tower’s avenue behind the garden is -just the place too. Mrs. Tower may we ride there?” - -“Certainly you may, Emilie,” replied Mrs Tower. “I give you the range of -my house and grounds, together with the command of my carriage and -coachman, till you shall get Jessie acclimated!” - -“That is noble, Mrs. Tower! All I want. Your avenue is longer and wider -than ours. I am sure I shall have roses as red as my own on Jessie’s -cheek in a very little while. And you, Mr. Style, may prepare yourself -for a challenge to a horse-race, when Miss Lincoln can ride my Romulus!” - -Jessie expressed unbounded delight at the prospect of amusement that was -before her, and offered a thousand thanks to Emilie for her willingness -to instruct her. - -“O pray don’t say a word about that,” replied Emilie. “Perhaps I shall -not prove so competent as I promise. But if I fail, Mr. Style here shall -finish your education!” - -“Now, Mr. Style,” said Mrs. Tower, when the ladies had made their -adieux, “you must take charge of Jessie’s entertainment, while I attend -to a little business. I am sure she will be pleased with the -conservatory?” - -The young clergyman very readily undertook the commission, and throwing -open a door from the drawing-room, he led the delighted girl into a -sweet wilderness of flowers and fragrance. - -Three weeks glided by almost imperceptibly, for Jessie Lincoln had never -experienced such a full tide of happiness. The cool, fresh country -zephyr kissed her cheeks, and there crept over them a delicious tinting, -delicate as the blush of a rose-bud. Vigorous exercise, rural walks, and -every kind of simple pleasure banished the sickly and languid expression -from her face, and with returning health came vigor, vivacity, and -joyousness. George and Emilie Jones were unwearied in their devotion to -Jessie’s happiness; the Varleys had outdone everybody in promises of -attention and politeness, especially Miss Charlotte, who found very -frequent occasion to watch for any indications of Mr. Style’s preference -of Jessie before herself. Poor Charlotte! she longed to read his heart; -the indifference, nay, positive aversion she would have discovered -there, would have been “the gall of bitterness” to her own, for she was -deeply and desperately in love, if ever a silly young woman was, and a -breath could have fanned her electrical jealousy into an uncontrollable -flame. She would have given the last farthing of her fortune for an -assurance of affection from the young minister. Alas! he never gave her -any; yet at this juncture, without the slightest reason to believe he -regarded her with any other sentiment than the commonest acquaintance, -she confidently did believe she had taken him in her toils, and he would -soon declare himself her admirer, unless Jessie stood in the way. - -It was impossible not to see with one’s eyes open that Mr. Style was -becoming deeply and vitally interested in Jessie, though in her -simplicity and humility she was wholly unconscious of it; and if she had -conceived the possibility of such a thing, she would bitterly have -rebuked her own presumption, for she regarded herself altogether too -humble to aspire to such a position in the world as to become the wife -of such a gifted man. It is true that the lustre of his mind, the high -tone of his moral endowments, and the faultlessness of his exterior -moulding, _charmed_ her—and what young heart would they _not_ charm, I -pray you tell me, dear lady reader? But the idea of loving Mr. Style -with any other love than that which is inspired and sanctioned by -respect and friendship merely never entered her mind. Jessie was, -however, the beau ideal of all his visions—the pure, pious, refined, -and high-souled woman he had always hoped to meet before he surrendered -his heart with its rich treasury of manly and generous love. He knew her -history—you shall know more of it anon, reader—and he admired and -revered the strength and unconquerable resolution with which she had -combated and triumphed in the midst of the most depressing -discouragements. Respect, admiration, love, combined to make him—no, -not a willing slave at her feet—he felt her moral nobility would revolt -at that; but they made him ready to plant his strength by the side of -her weakness, to be its defence and protection till the death-angel -should come, commissioned to guide her from earth to heaven. - - - CHAPTER IV. - -Mrs. Tyler and Elizabeth, Mrs. Varley’s genteel “metropolitan friends,” -had detained themselves at Saratoga so long as the most fashionable -company remained. But they at length wrote a hasty note to the “dear -Varleys” stating definitely when they should be at the depôt in N., -expecting to see the carriage in waiting. And they did come, “bag and -baggage,” to stay till November—it was only _August_ then, and they -flattered themselves, so they announced, that even in so short a stay, -very much happiness might be reciprocated. - -The prime advantage of Mrs. Tyler’s acquaintance to the Varley family, -consisted in the circumstance that that lady and her daughter boarded at -what they called one of the most fashionable houses in the city. Mrs. -Tyler despised housekeeping; it confined one so to the mercy of -servants, besides _company_ made it so troublesome and expensive. The -Miss Varleys could go and board at the same place in the winter, and -Mrs. Tyler would be so very kind and condescending as to “take all the -trouble of _chaperoning_ them into the society of the ‘upper ten -thousand,’ and nobody could with any certainty predict what advantages -might accrue; perhaps a splendid settlement, perhaps”—I know not how -many inducements she possessed, all of which sounded golden enough in -the ears of the Miss Varleys when they made her acquaintance at —— -Beach the season before, and insured for her what she intended, an -invitation to the country when it was genteel to go into the country -without such a bill of expense. The sphere in which Mrs. Tyler actually -moved was only in the same pseudo-genteel orbit with the Mrs. Washington -Potts’s, Mrs. De Perouk’s and a similar galaxy of inferior magnitude, to -whose acquaintance and real claims to respect our shrewd and gifted -countrywoman, has introduced so many delighted and instructed readers. -Blessings on her simplicity, and on her two-edged satire; blessings on -her mind and her pen, for holding up a mirror before the face of -society, in which it may see not only its lineaments of loveliness, but -also its deformities. - -Mrs. Tyler was a very small, _dried-up_ woman, if I may be tolerated for -the expression, though a row of beautiful porcelain teeth displayed -themselves whenever she parted her parched and skinny lips; her cheeks -were most unnaturally rosy—I should have said _rougey_! A profusion of -smooth and glossy ringlets adorned her head, and her whole dress was so -in the extreme of fashion, there could have been, indeed, but a paltry -difference between her “polar and equatorial diameter.” Brilliants -sparkled in her gay caps, among the ribbons and roses; gems flashed on -her withered hands; “tinkling ornaments, cauls, round tires like the -moon, chains, and bracelets, and mufflers, bonnets and head-bands, and -tablets, earrings and rings, changeable suits of apparel, mantles, and -wimples, and crisping-pins, glasses, fine linen, hoods and veils,” -figuratively speaking, the Prophet’s whole catalogue of a Judean -toilette, was in requisition, with many modern inventions, at which a -Judean maiden would have stood aghast, to make a vain old woman young -again! O, miserable ambition! - -Miss Elizabeth was large and masculine in all her proportions, with an -ungraceful stoop in her shoulders, coarse and prominent features, -staring blue eyes, a brilliant and exquisite complexion, and most -unusually beautiful hair. Her manners were intended to be easy and -nonchalant, while in truth, to the eyes of true refinement, they were -unpardonably bold and rude. Miss Tyler had persuaded herself she was a -_wit_, her sayings had sometimes occasioned so much laughter, and she -delighted to use her fancied power everywhere, and on all occasions, -shooting the shafts of her sarcasm and irony hither and thither without -delicacy, civility, or mercy. She dressed gaudily and expensively, while -her father drudged behind the counter of his “hardware and leather -establishment,” early and late to support such enormous and unnecessary -expenditures. She read novels “all night,” and was familiar with the -fate of every hero and heroine, from those of Bulwer, Eugene Sue, and -George Sand, down to the prettiest specimen of “yellow-covered -literature” for sale in small retail beer-shops, or peddled in railroad -cars by newsboys. She gloried in the unfeminine and unprincipled habit -of laughing at and ridiculing people in their very presence, if their -backs were turned, and especially _country people_; was strangely -familiar with strangers; laughed and talked very loud in the streets, -shops, and public conveyances, _et cetera_. Dear reader, I need not fill -my outline more definitely; with a blush for the honor of my sex, I am -compelled to admit there is more than _one_ Elizabeth Tyler in “these -degenerate days!” - -Well, the next day after Mrs. Tyler and her daughter arrived Mrs. Varley -gave a very extensive invitation to the _ton_ of the village, to -assemble at her house in the evening, to pay their respects and make the -acquaintance of her most distinguished visiters. The invitation, of -course, included Mr. Style, Mrs. Tower, and Jessie Lincoln, concerning -whom they had unaccountably neglected to make any inquiries, strange as -it may seem, when she was the object of such nervous anxiety. - -From eight till nine, poor Charlotte sat on the sofa by the side of Miss -Tyler, terribly dispirited, and eagerly watching for the announcement of -the Rev. Mr. Style. Elizabeth rallied her in vain; she scarcely -remembered to introduce her friend, and tried fruitlessly to be amused -by Elizabeth’s coarse and unladylike satires on the really elegant -company as they entered. By and by Charlotte and Elizabeth -simultaneously started; Charlotte rose from her seat, and Miss Tyler -suddenly seized her arm, as if to detain her till some surprise was -explained, and leveled her quizzing-glass deliberately at a group who -were that moment exchanging salutations with Mrs. Varley near the door. - -“There is Mr. Style! that’s him! that splendid figure!” whispered -Charlotte, who had neither eyes nor ears for any one else. - -“Gracious, Charlotte Varley! what kind of company do you entertain, for -mercy’s sake!” very audibly ejaculated Miss Tyler. “Upon my word, if -there isn’t my _mantuamaker_, Jessie Lincoln, invited to a party to -honor _us_, mamma! Isn’t that a pretty piece of impudence! Well, I did -think you were genteel people, and decently aristocratic before—you -Varleys!” - -“Laud!” chimed the mamma, displaying her elegant row of porcelain, and -fanning herself vigorously, “Who is the people that’s distinguished by -such elustrious visiters as _sewing-women_, and takes ’em out into -company? Don’t introduce _us_, Miss Varley!” - -“Havn’t you got some tailoress girls, and school ma’ams stowed away -somewhere, Lottie, that you are going to bring out, to give distinction -to this _mélange_?” sneered Elizabeth, in a lower tone, with a most -contemptuous smile, before Charlotte had time to recover from her -confusion enough to apologize that the company was no more exclusively -patrician. - -“She is Mrs. Tower’s visiter,” stammered Charlotte, in a whisper, as -Mrs. Tyler and Elizabeth rose from the sofa, and majestically walked a -little aside, lest the despised mantuamaker should approach near enough -to make an introduction inevitable. - -“A _towering_ specimen she must be!” punned Elizabeth to Miss Emilie -Jones, who had stood near the sofa, leaning on the arm of her brother. -The blood mounted to Emilie’s forehead, in an angry flood, and the -bitterest retort rushed with the speed of lightning to her lip. - -“Hush, Emilie,” softly whispered her more prudent brother, as he saw the -resentment of the insult to her friends, flashing in luminous sparkles -from her black and brilliant eyes. “Silence is the ‘better part of -valor’ just now, sister!” - -Emilie darted from his side, and in a few minutes she had clustered a -charming circle of ladies and gentlemen about Miss Lincoln, and by the -most graceful and assiduous attentions, she sought to banish the cruel -embarrassment and mortification Miss Tyler’s vulgar rudeness had -occasioned, for Jessie had instantly recognized her, and guessed at the -import of her contemptuous remarks, by the inquiring eyes that were -immediately bent upon her, from the vicinity in which Miss Tyler had -made her communications. She did not blush for the truth that she was -poor, and had heretofore gained her livelihood by the labor of her -hands, but the curious and somewhat disdainful glances which she felt -were directed toward her, chafed her sensitiveness to its tenderest -vitality. She did, indeed, shrink from the charge of intrusion and -presumption, which she had no doubt many hearts were preferring against -her, however politeness might for the moment peek to conceal it. Poor -Jessie tried to appear composed as if nothing had happened to pain her, -but she found her self-possession deserting her in her utmost need. The -hand that rested on Emilie’s arm trembled—the great tears struggled -into Jessie’s eyes—her cheeks glowed one moment with the heat of a -fever, and the next her face was almost as colorless as the white dress -she wore. - -“Do take me to some less conspicuous place, Emilie,” she whispered, -“this cruel scrutiny kills me.” - -Emilie did as she was requested, and apparently without design, -extricated her from the group around her, led her to a seat by an open -window, and sat down by her, with so much sympathy and distress in her -usually joyous face, that poor Jessie was quite overcome, and was -obliged to screen herself with the curtain to conceal her irrepressible -tears. As she took hold of the folds of the curtain, the massive drapery -fell, and so rich and dark was the velvet, that it entirely concealed -those within from those without, who were gayly promenading the piazza, -or lingering listlessly in the moonlight. - -Some movement diverted almost all the company from the room, and also -from the piazza near the window where Jessie and Emilie were sitting, -and the same movement gave Mr. Style an unobserved opportunity to join -them. Emilie looked in his face—there was a sternness and resentment in -its expression that puzzled her for a moment, it was so unlike him, but -his first remark solved her difficulty at once. - -“Don’t be so distressed, Miss Lincoln—it is not difficult to put the -right interpretation—” and then he bit his lips to stay the wrathful -thoughts that were clamoring for utterance. A gleam of delight -illuminated Emilie’s eyes, and she involuntarily extended her hand to -him, in token of her sympathy with all he had refrained from uttering. - -“Ah!” she said, and the bitterest scorn was in her glance and tone, “you -are a prudent man, I know, but I am a fearless and reckless being, and I -shall take the liberty to read out the interpretation, you no doubt -wisely repress.” - -“No, no, dear Emilie,” expostulated Jessie, “I will beg Mrs. Tower to -release me from my promise, and I will go where I shall not involve my -generous friends in such painful and humiliating circumstances.” - -“Never! Jessie Lincoln, never!” warmly remonstrated Emilie, “you -shall—” - -She was interrupted by the sound of footfalls and smothered voices on -the piazza without. - -“I would not be an impertinent listener,” she said, “but I recognize -Charlotte’s voice. Something of interest to you, Mr. Style, I presume, -for I hear your name.” - -The footsteps drew nearer, and the voices grew more clear and audible. - -“Now we are alone, Elizabeth,” said Charlotte, “I must tell you my -troubles. I had every reason to believe Mr. Style was in love with -me—mamma says I had—and I have no doubt he was on the eve of a -declaration, which would have made me the proudest and happiest creature -in the world, when Mrs. Tower brought about the advent of that minx of a -low-bred Jessie Lincoln, whose true place in the world you have been -good enough to disclose. How I do despise her! I know Mrs. Tower got her -here on purpose to _foil_ me. They say she manages admirably to keep -them together, and that Mistress Jessie is ready to dog him everywhere, -and throw herself eternally in his way. And then that saucy Emilie -Jones, my worst enemy, sustains her in it all, and helps it forward. I -don’t know what ridiculous things that bewitched mantuamaker wont do to -raise herself into genteel society, and save any more mantuamaking. But -I declare, Elizabeth, I shall _die_ without him! What shall I do? How -shall I manage it? Come, you know?” Charlotte’s voice began to tremble -as if she were in tears. - -A crimson blush—but it was the blush of indignant innocence—burnt -Jessie’s face, neck and arms. She rose to go, but Mr. Style, with -contempt and disgust, and utter indignation battling with discretion for -the mastery in every lineament of his face, gently drew her to a seat -again. - -“Do?” responded the heartless and unprincipled Elizabeth, “why, let me -think. He does somehow seem to be a prize worth capturing, he is so -stately and handsome. I am not sure, Lottie, but I shall come into the -ranks to contend for him myself, ha! ha! ha! At least you could afford -me the pleasure of a flirtation, just while I stay! I would not snap my -finger, however, for a little obscure country parson for a _husband_! -Well, I guess you must manage to get some story into currency, that will -give her an impulse back to her patterns and fashion-plates, and make -him a chance to forget such a very meek and meaching face, and -sanctimonious demeanor; but mind you, don’t mention your _authority_. I -shall be terribly angry if you do, for these sewing-girls get possession -of a great many things they might circulate to one’s disadvantage you -know—and they are so touchy and jealous, they are really a very -mischievous class of persons. But let me tell you a fact. I lost a -splendid bracelet that cost me forty dollars at one dress-maker’s! I -will not mention her name, but you can make _your own inferences_!” And -Elizabeth Tyler and Charlotte Varley maliciously giggled. - -“I may draw _mine_ too, may I not?” said Emilie Jones, as she sprang to -her feet, with dashing eyes and indignation burning in every feature. -Thrusting aside the drapery, she presented herself on the piazza, with -an air as imperial as a second Zenobia defending the honor of her -Palmyra. But the offending parties had hastily retreated, and mingled -with the other guests who were returning from a stroll in the beautiful -garden, which was gayly enough illuminated to be the trysting-place of -Houries. - -“Be calm, Jessie—Miss Lincoln,” said Mr. Style, as he drew her -unresisting arm within his own. “Such malice always works ruin to those -who cherish it.” - -Jessie’s wounded heart fluttered strangely. The cruel and unprovoked -injustice she suffered, awoke her pride, and made her stronger in body -and spirit, while the mingling of the champion and the lover in Mr. -Style’s tone and manner reassured her, and restored her self-possession. -He placed her by the side of Mrs. Tower, who was chatting agreeably, -wholly ignorant that any thing had occurred to disturb or distress -Jessie, then attached himself to one and another circle, as he saw their -entertainment flagging, and at length he found himself by the side of -Miss Charlotte and her friend. - -“Really, Mr. Style,” said Charlotte, as she laid her small, fair hand on -his arm, and looked up languidly in his face; “you have been so choice -of yourself or so democratic to-night, I have hardly seen you at all. -Now it is your duty as a knight-errant, to make yourself agreeable to my -dearest friend, Miss Tyler.” - -Mr. Style was disgusted almost to loathing, and in his soul he shrunk -from the false and deceitful woman, whose deliberate wickedness and -folly his own senses had so unwillingly attested. But he gallantly bowed -in obedience to Charlotte’s familiar challenge, and addressed something -very common-place to Miss Tyler. She was transformed in a moment, and -became all vivacity, and wit, and life. She joked and frolicked, and -laughed till the attention of the company was attracted, and poor -Charlotte began to be most cruelly jealous. Indeed, so entirely did Miss -Tyler attach herself to Mr. Style, that emancipation was hopeless for -the remainder of the evening. At a late hour the guests departed; and -painful, indeed, were the disclosures Jessie made to Mrs. Tower, of the -misery and mortification she had endured so innocently. - -“Do let me go to-morrow, dear Mrs. Tower, my mother; I can never endure -that the humbleness of my station should expose you to reproach like -this.” - -“No, Jessie,” replied Mrs. Tower, as she drew the weeping girl to her -bosom. “You are my own daughter now, and by an instrument legally -attested, no longer dependent on your own exertions, but my chosen and -acknowledged heiress. It is no reproach to you, my dearest child, among -those whose true elevation of mind and character places them above the -necessity of those artificial props, which are always called to sustain -assumption—that you were reared under the clouds of misfortune, or that -your own hands supported an invalid father and mother. Jessie, I honor -you for it, and the gift of a fortune is but a trifling reward. Say no -more about leaving me—you cannot and you must not do it. Leave this -matter all to my ‘elder wisdom,’ and forget it in the repose your mind -and body need.” - - - CHAPTER V. - -The following morning, as Mrs. Tower and Jessie were sitting in the -library, with Emilie Jones and her brother, a servant brought in an -awkwardly folded and hastily written note, and presenting it to Jessie, -informed her that the bearer waited in the hall for a reply. Jessie -opened the unsealed paper and read: - - “Miss Lincoln,—The buttons on my traveling dress, which you - made, do not give me any satisfaction. This is for you to come - to Mrs. Varley’s this afternoon, directly after dinner, and - alter them, and I shall expect you to make no extra charge for - it. - - “ELIZABETH TYLER. - - “P. S. Mrs. Varley’s family would be willing to employ you on my - recommendation.” - -The color went and came in Jessie’s cheek, as she read the deliberate -insult the writer evidently intended. - -“What is it, Jessie?” said Emilie, whose electrical sympathy was -instantly roused, “any thing more from those abominable Tylers? Pray let -me see?” Mrs. Tower looked over Emilie’s shoulder as she read. “What -insolence! Jessie Lincoln, if I were only a _man_, I am sure I should -avenge your insult in single combat! Why, brother, are _you_ a man, and -will you see a lady treated like that?” she continued with thrilling -emphasis, throwing the note disdainfully out of her hands. - -“Yes, sister, I hope I am a man,” replied the young naval officer, “but -not quite so hot-headed and reckless a man as _you_ would have made. If -you were on board our vessel, I fear we might have our hands full to -keep you out of ‘affairs of honor!’ Miss Lincoln, I presume,” he -continued, laying down the note, while a flush slowly crept to his -forehead, “has wisdom enough to manage with the contempt it deserves, so -very contemptible an assault!” - -“I will reply to it, Jessie,” said Mrs. Tower, as she sat down before -her writing-table and wrote:— - - “Mrs. Tower takes the liberty to decline for Miss Lincoln, the - proposition Miss Tyler has seen fit to make, as the change in - Miss Lincoln’s circumstances and prospects renders any further - intercourse with Miss Tyler unbefitting entirely. That - intercourse is therefore at an end.” - -Jessie begged that any thing so like retaliation, might not be sent, as -Miss Tyler was unquestionably instigated by the Varleys, who were too -cowardly to assail her only through a tool. - -“It becomes me, Jessie, to vindicate the honor of my family, and I feel -justified in checking such effrontery, and foiling it with its own -weapons,” insisted Mrs. Tower. - -“Yes, yes indeed!” said Emilie. “I’m glad of it, Mrs. Tower, and I only -wish _I_ had the inditing of the reply. It would scorch like a flame, -I’m sure it would, every word of it. Do, please charge me with the -delivery of the missive, Mrs. Tower! my fingers ache for the commission, -and I’ll add an oral appendix on my _own_ hook!” - -“O, no, Emilie,” replied Mrs. Tower, smiling; “I appreciate your -generous intention, but I fear your enthusiasm and indignation might -spoil your embassy.” - -Meantime the whole Varley family were indulging in boisterous exultation -over Elizabeth’s “capital trick, to show a mantuamaker girl that she was -out of her reckoning when she sailed into _their_ latitude—she did not -belong with _them_, no how you could fix it;” for it must be -humiliating, indeed, to be ordered to such paltry service after -deceiving such wealthy and important people into showing her some -distinguished civilities. Charlotte said she “guessed it would convince -Mr. Style that there was something to choose between an heiress and a -servant!” Mrs. Tyler simpered from behind her porcelain, that “it would -learn people to know their places—and one _might_ lose some _custom_ by -such a fraud on society—the matter would not stop in a corner!” Annette -declared it was “too good.” Mrs. Varley echoed, as usual, the respective -opinions, as they came from the mint, and Adelaide gleefully suggested -that it “might taste a little bitter to Mrs. Tower’s palate, as she made -such a prodigious favorite of the girl. For _her_ part, she expected -Mrs. Tower would import a colony of chimney-sweeps, to give brilliancy -to society there, she was so much the patron of the ‘lower classes!’” - -But the reply came far sooner than it was looked for, and exultation -speedily changed hands with consternation. What could it mean? “Change -in her circumstances and prospects!” What possible interpretation could -be applied to that? Charlotte fell into hysterics, and screamed she -“knew it could mean nothing less than that Jessie Lincoln was engaged to -Mr. Style!” and to complete the excitement, she actually fainted away. - -“Good gracious me!” stormed Miss Tyler, almost choking with passion, “I -should like to know what ‘change of circumstances and prospects,’ can -license an impertinent, presuming, poverty-pinched hussy of a -dress-maker to withdraw her acquaintance from a lady of _my_ position in -the fashionable world! Mother, did we tear ourselves from the -importunities of our city friends, and patronize these Varleys, for such -insulting treatment as this? Mrs. Varley, we did not know you lived -among Hottentots, or we should have refused to come here, in the face of -all your urgency, every soul of you!” - -Mrs. Varley and her four conscious daughters, vituperated, apologized, -and appeased, as well as their own choler would permit, the excited and -wrathful visiters, who declared “they would leave the house and the town -immediately, and spread the story as far as the newspapers would carry -it, and that was everywhere!” But it was finally suggested by the daring -Adelaide, that her mother should go to Mrs. Tower, clothed with all the -terror of their united resentment, and demand a satisfactory -explanation. Especially was she commissioned to discover if possible -what sudden “change in circumstances and prospects,” had set Jessie -Lincoln upon such a pinnacle over the heads of everybody. - -“I declare, girls,” said Mrs. Varley to her daughters, in secret -session, before she started on her errand, “I do feel like pizon about -this affair! I am half skart out of my wits at such a breeze between us -and Mrs. Tower! I wish to the mercy we had never seen these -mischief-making Tylers! As if them that touches porcupines mustn’t -expect the quills! Or them that insults, to be insulted back again. I -don’t believe they are half so _rich_ and _uppercrust_ as they -pretend—and then they make such a sight of trouble! Besides, you know -what I told you I surmised about Mrs. Tower. If it _is_ so, she will be -sure to let me and other people know it, if she hasn’t already!” - -The girls all looked doubtfully at each other. - -“I wish in my heart these Tylers would go,” said Annette, “for of all -the conceited trumpery old sights that ever I saw, Mrs. Tyler is the -foremost.” - -“I cannot express my detestation of Liz,” interrupted Adelaide. “She is -as false and cunning as the very old snake himself, and bad as _I_ am, I -do think _she_ is worse!” - -Charlotte had come to life enough by this time to mention Miss Tyler’s -flirtation with Mr. Style, when she was checked by Adelaide with, - -“Hush! she is coming—it’s said _somebody_ is always at hand when you -are talking about him!” - -“O, do go quick, Mrs. Varley! Havn’t you got ready _yet_? I’m terribly -impatient for that woman’s apology;” said Miss Tyler, as she -unceremoniously opened the door and thrust in her face. “But what are -you talking about with closed doors? _Us_, I presume! You look caught, -every one of you,” and Miss Tyler turned up her disdainful nose, as if -there would be no further amity till she heard a disclaimer of that -offence. - -“O, no, no, Lizzie, my dear!” supplicated Mrs. Varley, in her blandest -and most conciliatory tone. “Pray come right in, love, and cheer up -these poor disconsolate creatures while I am gone. Bring my hat and -parasol, Adelaide. Shameful, isn’t it, to drag a body out in this -briling sunshine, on such business?” - -“We were saying,” remarked Adelaide, as she handed the bonnet and -parasol to her mother, “how much we do despise these deceitful kind of -upstarts, who pretend to be so much more than they really are!” - -“It is the tendency of our American institootions,” replied Elizabeth, -in a tone more pacific, but very affectedly sage, as she settled herself -indolently into a rocking-chair. “They encourage upstarts! You don’t see -nothing of this kind in England. For my part, I think it devolves on the -higher classes to—to—hem—” she found herself unexpectedly wading -beyond her depth, and unfortunately afloat in the high flown piece of -wisdom she had started to express. Charlotte hastened to the rescue, in -a very luminous climax to Miss Tyler’s halting proposition. - -“To let them know,” she interposed. - -“Yes, to let them know!” replied Elizabeth, with clinching emphasis. - -Meanwhile Mrs. Varley was sailing majestically along the street toward -Mrs. Tower’s residence. Her face was very brazen, but there was a -trembling and apprehension in her heart, which communicated itself to -her body, and her hand shook nervously as she twitched the door-bell. - -“Is Mrs. Tower in?” she said to the servant who opened the door, in a -very sharp and insolent voice—and before he had time to reply, she -added, “go and tell her that Mrs. Varley wishes to speak with her -alone.” - -In a few minutes Mrs. Tower entered the drawing-room, her countenance -and carriage as placid as if never a breath had disturbed her. A cold -and haughty bow was the response she received to her polite and polished -greeting. Mrs. Varley seemed entirely at a loss for her next -measure—she was confused—exceedingly confused, but the sternness of -her coarse features softened not a shadow. Mrs. Tower inquired for the -health of her family. - -“Yes, ma’am! it becomes you to ask, I should think,” retorted Mrs. -Varley, very bitterly. “Did you write this note, ma’am?” and she -advanced toward Mrs. Tower with the offending document. - -“I did, indeed, Mrs. Varley,” replied Mrs. Tower, as she just glanced at -the note, and gave it back to Mrs. Varley. - -“Ah, you did! and you seem very cool and indifferent about it, too, as -if it was a small matter to insult a genteel family like mine, just -because we wont have any thing to do with the lower clashes, nor uphold -_you_ in it,” said Mrs. Varley, losing all control of herself, and -swelling her tones as she grew angrier and angrier, to the keen and wiry -pitch peculiar to the voice of an excited woman. “I’ll thank you to tell -me what it means?” - -“Precisely what it says,” replied Mrs. Tower, in a low, calm voice; “but -what do _you_ mean by the ‘lower classes?’” - -“I mean all _mantymakers_, and servants, and tradespeople, and everybody -that _works_ for a livin’,” quickly responded Mrs. Varley—she was -fortified on that point. “I’d have you to know that my family is too -rich and high up in the world to have any thing at all to do with them -sort of folks, whatever _yours_ may be, Mrs. Tower! But I know one’s -bringing up has a great deal to do with one’s genteelety—it don’t set -easy on everybody!” - -“A very pertinent remark, Mrs. Varley,” replied Mrs. Tower, with an -effort to repress a smile. “I conclude you do not embrace your visiters -in your catalogue of the ‘lower classes?’” - -“No, indeed! that’s what I don’t! they are very wealthy, and -fashionable, and high-bred people, and know all the richest and -fashionablest people in the city of New York; and what’s more, they know -how to resent an affront as well as some other folks—I guess you will -find out.” - -“I must take the liberty to correct one of your statements, madam,” -replied Mrs. Tower. “Mr. Tyler, the husband and father of your visiters, -rents his hardware store in New York of the business agent of my adopted -daughter and heiress, Miss Jessie Lincoln, to whom I have given my -estates in that city. And, moreover, he is so deeply indebted for -borrowed capital, to support the extravagance of his wife and daughter, -that every farthing he possesses would not liquidate his debt. So much -for the wealth and independence of the _tradesman’s_ family. As to the -fashionable part of the story, without any arrogance I may assert that -my acquaintance for years has included the first and wealthiest families -in New York, and I venture to affirm that in those circles Mrs. Tyler -and her designing daughter were never so much as heard of!” - -Mrs. Varley began to look crestfallen. - -“Well,” she rejoined, “I don’t know but it _may_ be so, but I have no -reason to think it is. At any rate, they don’t hug up mantymakers, and -take ’em out visiting with them!” - -“Mrs. Varley,” replied Mrs. Tower, rising from her chair and assuming a -moral majesty before which her narrow-souled assailant quailed, “I -acknowledge it is exasperation which prompts to the disclosure of -another truth, which may sound rather painfully to your pride. I deplore -the occasion, but you have really driven me to it, in order to vindicate -the dignity of my family, which you have willfully wounded. Mrs. Varley, -_you_ were a servant in my father’s house—you contracted a vicious and -disgraceful marriage with a servant in a large gambling establishment in -the city of Baltimore, where we then resided, and when you ran away with -your husband—my _casket_ of _jewels_ went with you! I _saw_ you take -it, but I forebore to expose you to my father, because I pitied your sin -and folly, and I knew the severity of his sense of justice and injury -would pursue you without mercy, so he died in ignorance of your crime. -You lived in degradation and poverty for years and years, and I have -seen those fastidious daughters of yours, now so sensitive lest they -should be contaminated by contact with what you are pleased to call the -“lower classes,” ragged and hungry in the streets of C., while I lived -in that city with my departed husband. And more than once have I carried -food and clothing to the miserable abode you called your home. Do you -remember your own almost mortal illness when the cholera scourged that -city? Some fortunate stakes at the gaming-table subsequently put Mr. -Varley in possession of considerable sums of money, and the diligent -pursuit of the same vicious business for many successful years, has put -you and your family in possession of an independent fortune. For these -facts I can refer you to authorities if you will. Now, have I read this -chapter of your private history correctly?” - -Mrs. Varley turned every imaginable color as the relation -proceeded—pale, red, speckled and spotted. She was utterly confounded -for a moment, and then she exclaimed, as she seized Mrs. Tower’s passive -hand in both her own. - -“Josepha Gordon! I have sometimes thought it must be the same!” - -“Josepha Gordon was my maiden name,” replied Mrs. Tower, calmly yet -sorrowfully watching the whirlwind in poor Mrs. Varley’s soul. “Twenty -years, and bitter sorrows, have wrought more changes in me than fortune -has in _you_, Cynthia Varley. But have I spoken truly?” - -Mrs. Varley could scarcely reply; she sunk down upon the sofa completely -overcome. Mortification and deep humiliation seemed to paralyze her -faculties. Tears, and sobs, and groans, right pitiful to witness -followed. One moment a storm of furious passion rose in her bosom, and -the next a torrent of tears poured over her cheeks. - -“It is all true,” she stammered at length; “but O don’t, for mercy’s -sake, don’t expose us! It would be our ruin, our utter ruin, and I am -sure I have suffered enough already. I will restore your jewels -fourfold,” and she began nervously working at a magnificent diamond that -sparkled on her bosom. - -“Keep the jewels, Mrs. Varley. I do not need them, neither will I accept -what you have so long called your own,” said Mrs. Tower mildly. “I know -not what remorseful visitings have struggled in your heart, but if they -had wrought a moral renovation there, I would have left this painful -story in oblivion, and spared you so much humiliation. Believe me, Mrs. -Varley, _money_ is not the true criterion in estimating respectability -or character, as you seem to judge. That man is poor indeed who only -possesses heaps of shining gold, though so great he cannot count their -value—but the wealth garnered in the heart, the gems of virtue set -around the immortal soul, are the only imperishable riches, which are -the legitimate and justifiable ambition of an imperishable nature. I -will keep your secret sacredly, as I have kept it these many years that -we have been neighbors and acquaintances. I will only exhort you to -remember, madam, that there is nothing dishonorable in honest, -laborious, physical industry—the working with one’s hands. The fact -that my beloved Jessie toiled to provide for the comfort of her sick and -indigent parents, and discharged with her own noble efforts all their -pecuniary obligations, only renders her more admirable in my estimation, -and worthier to receive the inheritance I feel honored to bestow upon -her. Hereafter she will be recognized as my own daughter.” - -Mrs. Varley was perfectly subdued. The character of the lady she had -come armed to annihilate, stood out sublimely before her, in contrast -with her own conscious duplicity and assumption—humbled and silenced -she rose to go, with very much the feeling of an arrogant general -vanquished and routed, and forced into a disgraceful and disordered -retreat. - -My pen is unequal to the description of the scene at Mrs. Varley’s own -house, when she at length reached home, and detailed to her daughters -the whole story, and relieved the suspense of her guests, by so much of -it as related to themselves. Mrs. Tyler and Elizabeth decided to leave -in the first train the next morning, bearing with them any thing but the -cordiality and good wishes of their hostess and her five daughters, who -gave the “metropolitan friends” definitely to understand that they -regarded themselves most scandalously imposed upon, by the shabbiest of -pretenders, and that any further acquaintance would be unthought of, -which complimentary farewells the guests fiercely retorted. - -Mrs. Varley very shortly concluded that the health of her family, which, -in truth, had suffered somewhat by their unexpected defeats, required -journeying; and in a few days the house was closed, the servants -discharged, and the household had departed, rumor said to spend the -winter in Cuba. And not long after the citizens of N. were very much -astonished by an advertisement in the papers, stating that “the entire -establishment lately occupied by Mrs. Cynthia Varley, deceased, would be -sold at public auction on such a day—house, grounds, furniture, plate, -horses and carriages, etc., and that the sale must be positive, for -cash.” Subsequently the melancholy report was confirmed, that Mrs. -Varley and her fair and beautiful Charlotte were taken with violent -fever on their journey southward, and had both died. The fate of the -survivors remained in mystery, as the administrator of the estate had no -liberty to communicate their place of residence, or their future -intentions. No doubt they chose some fashionable resort, and I fear -became the prey of fortune-hunters. - -Mrs. Tyler, on her return to New York, found not only that her husband -was bankrupt, and his affairs in a state of irretrievable ruin, but his -mind also was a perfect wreck, fluctuating between idiocy and insanity, -but its coloring always that of the most hopeless depression. Jessie -Lincoln’s bounty long supported him at a lunatic asylum, while his wife -and Elizabeth managed to support themselves by the proceeds of a small -millinery shop. - -The revolution of a few years brought some interesting changes over the -society of N. Jessie Lincoln, the faithful and dutiful daughter, became -the beloved and lovely wife of—“The Rev. Mr. Style of course!” cries my -hasty reader. “Who ever read a story where the hero and heroine were not -finally married? it is an event to be fully anticipated.” Then, indeed, -is my tale a novel one. Be not too confident in coming to conclusions, -because precedents happen to be in their favor. - -Jessie Lincoln became the beloved and lovely wife of Lieutenant George -Jones! I do not know but she would have married Mr. Style, if, like too -many others, he had not lingered in the vestibule of the temple of Hymen -till another hand lighted the torch, and proudly stood beside her at the -altar. The heart of Jessie Lincoln was irrevocably given, with all its -wealth of love to the young naval officer, and the minister was left to -regret his too confident and presumptuous delay when regrets were -unavailing. But Jessie was a “mourning bride”—for only a few weeks -after her marriage, her noble and beloved patroness sickened and died, -leaving Jessie and her husband the proprietors of her tasteful and -elegant mansion, and the principal heirs to her estate. - -“But did Mr. Style—such a fine young man, and so royally gifted, -consign himself to a gloomy celibacy, and live and die a -bachelor—‘which being interpreted,’ is _half a man_?” - -Nay, reader, I’ll hasten to tell you that Emilie Jones, that wild, -hair-brained, passionate, but truly generous and high-minded Emilie, -learned lessons of gentleness and piety, and married—because they -mutually and earnestly loved—the young clergyman of the church of N.; -and by bequest of Mrs. Tower, the beautiful residence of the Varleys -became the village manse, and their lovely home! - - * * * * * - - - - - TO INEZ.—AT FLORENCE. - - - BY S. D. ANDERSON. - - - I wonder how thou look’st, - In thy home far, far away, - Where thy voice, like Summer’s streamlet, - Is singing all the day. - Is thine eye as bright as ever? - Have thy footsteps lost their bound, - That they had when last we listened - To the moonlit ocean’s sound? - - Has thy young heart quit its dreaming, - ’Neath thy own pure sunny skies, - In those nights when stars are vieing - With the lustre of thine eyes? - When the dreams of youth were flinging - Their roses round thy way, - ’Mid the perfumed airs of spring-time— - That herald in life’s May. - - Say, does the Arno run as clear, - Beside thy palace walls, - As when upon its waves we looked - From out thy father’s halls? - Music was there when last I pressed - My lips upon thy brow. - And left thee—eye, and voice, and form, - Are all but _memory_ now. - - But memory, such as o’er the heart - Its rainbow arch still throws, - As bright as when on ocean’s breast - Its sunlit beauty glows— - Is with me now; the forest shade, - The brook, the flower, the tree, - The tones of music ’mid the night, - Are peopled all with thee. - - Then, Inez, in that distant clime, - If still thou think’st of me, - At evening when thou goest out - Upon the tranquil sea, - Our souls shall meet—for kindred ones, - That bow at memory’s shrine, - Oft meet in dreams, and thus my heart - Shall often join with thine. - - * * * * * - - - - - COMMUNION OF THE SEA AND SKY. - - - BY ELVIRA JONES. - - - It was a night whose starry ray - E’en matched the brilliant hue of day, - A night replete with gifts of June— - A flowery earth and silver moon. - Sleep softly waved her opiate rod, - And stilled all things on earth’s green sod. - The ocean slept, so gently breathing, - Scarce I marked its bosom’s heaving. - - In em’rald couch the flow’rs reposed, - The violet’s azure eye was closed; - The balmy, odor-laden air - Scarce stirred beneath its burden rare, - Though oft a slumbering breeze would wake, - And on its harp sweet music make; - The list’ning waves would catch the lay, - With silver lutes so sweet they’d play - That e’en the peerless nightingale, - Warbling within some quiet vale, - Would cease his matchless melody, - To list, and dare no rivalry. - - At last a swifter breeze did come - Down from its far off heavenly home; - Bright dew-drops on its wings it bore, - The fairest gems of midnight’s store; - O’er all the earth like stars they lie, - As if to imitate the sky; - Brighter than monarch’s sparkling gem - Was the lowly flow’ret’s diadem. - - Methought indeed ’twas _love’s_ own hour— - He could not choose a fairer bower— - A scene so still, so void of strife, - So stirless, yet replete with life. - - A lily by a rose-bud stood, - Partaking of its honey food, - With tender and confiding grace - They waved to each a fond embrace. - - A star in the far azure sky - Heard a murm’ring streamlet’s sigh, - His image in her bosom still - He saw, and blessed the gentle rill. - - A zephyr sought the rose’s bower, - To serenade the lovely flower, - Yet all unlike the constant star, - He sees the streamlet from afar. - For her forsakes his tender rose, - To her his love would fain disclose; - She trembled at his light caress, - _Yet kept the image in her breast_. - - Sudden a voice that came along, - As softly as a fairy’s song, - Or like the wind-harp’s faintest sigh, - That scarcely lives ere it doth die, - Folded the pinions of my thought, - And deep and mute attention brought— - ’Twas the voice of the far off sky - Whisp’ring its scarce heard melody - To its kindred sea, whose list’ning waves - Scarce stirred within their azure caves. - - “Ocean, sleepest thou thy nightly rest? - Or with thy weight of stars so prest, - Thou canst not hear my lay of love, - My wooing whispers from above? - Thy brilliant burden I will lift, - Awhile withdraw my nightly gift; - My graceful clouds shall intervene, - No more thy brilliant load is seen. - Now listen to my nightly song, - My voice unheard to mortal throng. - - “How strange none mark our sympathy, - And yet how like I am to thee. - My voice to thee a passage finds - In music of the tuneful winds, - While soft thy murm’ring waves reply - With a sound more faint than joy’s sigh. - - “I gaze at thee with eyes of light, - With loving look, from orbs as bright, - Thou answer’st me. My beams I send, - As messengers to thee. They lend - A golden chariot to thy waves, - In which they leave their dark blue caves - And joyously to me they come; - Though grieved to leave their native home, - In purple mansions here they dwell, - But mark thy bosom’s sorrowing swell, - And weary of their absence long, - Again they seek their home of song. - - “Within thy bosom hidden lie, - Fair pearls unseen to mortal eye— - I, too, have jewels e’n more bright— - My dew-drop gems, which deck the night. - - “In their blue home thy gold-fish rove— - I, too, have children whom to love, - My fairy birds who sport along, - Here in their happy world of song.” - - The voice was still. The ocean sighed, - In harp-like tones its waves replied— - “Our converse, unperceived by men, - Still lasts, though sound is hushed, e’en then, - Though winds are still, nor waves rejoice, - I speak to thee in silence’s voice. - What gives to us our hue of love, - This azure tint, below, above? - It is our _depth_, unseen, profound, - _In shallow-hearted man ne’er found_.” - - The voice of the sea was hushed. - A fairy cloud the heavens brushed, - And tears of joy the sky was weeping, - Aroused the wavelets lightly sleeping, - They sprang to meet so playfully, - A union ’twas of sea and sky. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: THE BULLFINCH. - -Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine by F. Humphrys from an original - drawing] - - * * * * * - - - - - COLORED BIRDS.—THE BULLFINCH. - - - FROM BECHSTEIN. - - - [SEE ENGRAVING.] - -This is one of the indigenous tame birds which is a favorite with the -rich and noble. Its body is thick and short. Its whole length is six -inches and three-quarters, of which the tail measures two and -three-quarters; the beak is only six lines in length, short, thick, and -black; the iris is chestnut-colored; the shanks eight lines high, and -black; the top of the head, the circle of the beak, the chin, and -beginning of the throat, are of a beautiful velvet black; the upper part -of the neck, the back and shoulders, deep gray; the rump white; the -under part of the neck, the wide breast, and to the centre of the belly, -are of a fine vermilion, less bright, however, in the young than old; -the blackish pen-feathers become darker toward the body; the secondaries -have the outer edge of an iron blue, which in the hinder ones is -reddish. The tail is rather forked, and of a brilliant black, tinged -with iron-blue. - -The female is easily distinguished from the male, for what is red on him -is reddish-gray on her, while her back is of a brownish-gray, and her -feet are not so black; she is also smaller. - -This species has some singular varieties; the principal are:— - -1. The _White Bullfinch_, which is of an ashy-white, or wholly white, -with dark spots on the back. - -2. The _Black Bullfinch_. These are most generally females, which become -black, either with age, when they are only fed on hemp seed, or with -having been kept when young in a totally dark place. Some resume at -their moulting their natural colors, others remain black; but this black -is not the same in all; some are of a brilliant raven black, others -dull, and not so dark on the belly; in some the head only is of a raven -black, the rest of the body being duller; in others the black is mixed -with red spots on the belly, or the latter is entirely red. I have seen -one in which the head and breast, as well as the upper and under parts -of the body, were of a raven black, every other part of a dull black, -with the wings and tail white; it was a very handsome bird, rather -larger than a redbreast. - -3. The _Speckled Bullfinch_. It is thus called, for, besides its natural -colors, it is spotted with black and white, or white and ash color. - -4. The _Mongrel Bullfinch_. It is the offspring of a female reared in -the house from the nest, and of a male canary. Its shape and color -partake of those of the parent birds; its note is very agreeable, and -softer than that of the canary; but it is very scarce. This union rarely -succeeds; but when tried, a very ardent and spirited canary should be -chosen.[5] - -5. The other varieties are: the _Large Bullfinch_, about the size of a -thrush, and the _Middling_, or _Common_. As to dwarf birds, which are -not as large as a chaffinch, it is a bird-catcher’s story, for this -difference in size is observed in all kinds of birds. I can affirm it -with the more certainty, having had opportunities every year of seeing -hundreds of these birds, both wild and tame. I have even in the same -nest found some as small as redbreasts, and others as large as a -crossbill. - -HABITATION.—When wild, bullfinches are found over Europe and Russia. -They are particularly common in the mountainous forests of Germany. The -male and female never separate during the whole year. In winter they -wander about everywhere in search of buds. - -FOOD.—When wild the bullfinch does not often suffer from the failure of -its food; for it eats pine and fir seeds, the fruit of the ash and -maple, corn, all kinds of berries, the buds of the oak, beech, and pear -trees, and even linseed, millet, rape, and nettle seed. - -In the house those which run about may be fed on the universal paste, -and, for a change, rape seed may be added; those which are taught must -be fed only on poppy seed, with a little hemp seed, and now and then a -little biscuit without spice. It has been remarked that those which are -fed entirely on rape seed soaked in water live much longer, and are more -healthy. The hemp seed is too heating, sooner or later blinds them, and -always brings on a decline. A little green food, such as lettuce, -endive, chickweed, water-cresses, a little apple, particularly the -kernels, the berries of the service tree, and the like, is agreeable and -salutary to them. - -BREEDING.—These tenderly affectionate birds can hardly live when -separated from one another. They incessantly repeat their call with a -languishing note, and continually caress. They can sometimes be made to -breed in the house, like the canary, but their eggs are rarely fruitful. -In the wild state they breed twice every year, each time laying from -three to six eggs, of a bluish white, spotted with violet and brown at -the large end. Their nest, which they build in the most retired part of -a wood, or in a solitary quickset hedge, is constructed with little -skill, of twigs which are covered with moss. The young ones are hatched -in fifteen days. Those which are to be taught must be taken from the -nest when the feathers of the tail begin to grow; and must be fed only -on rape seed soaked in water and mixed with white bread; eggs would kill -them or make them blind. Their plumage is then of a dark ash-color, with -the wings and tail blackish-brown; the males may be known at first by -their reddish breast; so that when these only are wished to be reared -they may be chosen in the nest, for the females are not so beautiful, -nor so easily taught. - -Although they do not warble before they can feed themselves, one need -not wait for this to begin their instruction,[6] for it will succeed -better, if one may say so, when infused with their food; since -experience proves that they learn those airs more quickly, and remember -them better, which they have been taught just after eating. It has been -observed several times, that these birds, like the parrots, are never -more attentive than during digestion. Nine months of regular and -continued instruction are necessary before the bird acquires what -amateurs call firmness, for if one ceases before this time, they spoil -the air, by suppressing or displacing the different parts, and they -often forget it entirely at their first moulting. In general it is a -good thing to separate them from the other birds, even after they are -perfect; because, owing to their great quickness in learning, they would -spoil the air entirely by introducing wrong passages; they must be -helped to continue the song when they stop, and the lesson must always -be repeated whilst they are moulting, otherwise they will become mere -chatterers, which would be doubly vexatious after having had much -trouble in teaching them. - -DISEASES.—Those bullfinches which are caught in a snare or net are -rarely ill, and may be preserved for eight years or more; but those -reared from the nest are subject to many diseases, caused by their not -having their natural food, or by those injurious delicacies which are -always lavished on favorite birds; they rarely live more than six years. -The surest means of preserving them healthy for a long time, is to give -them neither sweets nor tit-bits of any kind, scrupulously to confine -their food to rape seed, adding now and then a very little hemp seed to -please them, and a good deal of the green food before mentioned. The -bottom of their cages should be covered with river sand, as the bird -there finds some stones which aid the functions of the stomach. Their -most frequent diseases are moulting, costiveness, diarrhœa, epilepsy, -grief, and melancholy, in which case they are quite silent, and remain -immovable, unless the cause can be discovered. They must not be given -any delicacy, and must be fed entirely on soaked rape seed. A clove in -their water, proper food, and particularly a good deal of refreshing -green food, enables them to pass the moulting time in good health. - ------ - -[5] However difficult this pairing may be, it sometimes succeeds very -well. A bullfinch and female canary once produced five young ones, which -died on a journey which they could not bear. Their large beak, and the -blackish down with which they were covered, showed that they were more -like their father than mother.—_Translator._ - -[6] I do not recommend the employment of bird organs for instructing -birds, because they are rarely accurate, and their notes are harsh and -discordant; for bullfinches repeat the sounds exactly as they hear them, -whether harsh or false, according to the instrument used. The good and -pure whistling of a man of taste is far preferable; the bird repeats it -in a soft, flute-like tone. When one cannot whistle well it is better to -use a flageolet.—_Translator._ - - * * * * * - - - - - TIME AND CHANGE. - - - BY ISAAC GRAY BLANCHARD. - - - Time’s flood sweeps on with ceaseless flow, - And o’er all things that are below - Change hath his empire: every day - Some object testifies his sway, - The falling leaf, the fading flower - Show Change and Death are Nature’s dower; - And every day that passes o’er us - Takes something time shall not restore us; - - Some dear delight, some hope in blossom, - Some cherished memory from our bosom, - Some holy impulse which Heaven lent us - When first on life’s fair voyage it sent us, - Some sunny hue of childhood bright, - That blest us with its lingering light, - Some pleasant friend, some earthly stay, - We fondly hoped to keep for aye, - - These hearts of ours, though once so bright, - Have less and less of love’s young light; - The world has lost the charm it had, - Even Nature seems less green and glad, - And from our bosoms, shut and lone, - Faith, like a beauteous bird, has flown. - O, Time and Change! how strong ye be! - How unlike what we were are we! - - * * * * * - - - - - WOMAN’S HEART:—A SONNET. - - - FOR JULIA. - - - BY REV. RUFUS HENRY BACON. - - - Like to a calm and placid inland bay, - Hemmed in by leafy solitudes and hills - That ward the ruder winds, and kindly stay - The tempest—where the forest song-bird fills - Its peaceful shores with music through the day, - And moonlit silence claims the evening hours— - On whose sweet borders bloom the choicest flowers— - A woman’s heart should be. In which alway - The cloudless heavens may smile, and gentlest ray - Of stars glide down, to emblem forth the sway - Of purity and truth, and happiness - Made up of innocence and loveliness - Of soul—so rarely found in this sad world of ours, - Where evil mars the good, and wastes divinest powers. - - * * * * * - - - - - A TRAVELER’S STORY. - - - BY MRS. LYDIA JANE PEIRSON. - - -We had been out since early morning, rambling amid the rough romance of -the Scottish Highlands, in the vicinity of the far-famed Loch Katrine. -With Sir Walter’s picture of that “burnished sheet of living gold,” with -its surrounding hills broken by trossach, dell and valley, in my mind’s -eye, I own that I felt disappointed, as I stood upon an isolated rock at -the foot of “huge Ben-Venue,” and looked up to the feathered crests of -the eternal _mountains_, (by courtesy,) and then gazed where Katrine - - “In all her length far winding lay, - With promontory, creek and bay, - And islands that empurpled bright - Flouted amid the livelier light.” - -The scene _was_ grand, and very beautiful, and no soul can be more -susceptible than mine to the beauties of Nature in her solitudes of -mountain, lake and woodland; but I had expected too much. It needed the -love light of Sir Walter’s Scottish heart to give the scenery, in my -eyes, the loveliness it wore for him. To me the rough hill, with its -shingly bosom, its tufts of heather, and ravines fringed with yellow -broom, and feathery fern—the precipitous rocks and wooded slopes—the -pebbly beach and abrupt headland—the cloud-checkered heaven above—and -the deep, clear lake that mirrored all these in its trembling bosom, -were but as the multitudes of hills and lakes, which every where -diversify the surface of our earth. I was disappointed, and of course -inclined to underrate the real beauty and sublimity of the grand theatre -by which we were surrounded. The enthusiastic admiration which burst in -ejaculatory phrases from my companions became distasteful to me; and -partly to relieve my own peevishness, and partly to escape from the -distasteful demonstrations of the company, I struck into a narrow path -that wound spirally along up the precipitous rocky tower at the base of -which I had been standing. Higher and higher I ascended, botanizing -amongst the plants and lichens, until a stone on which I placed my foot -gave way beneath the effort I made to spring higher, and alas for my -_excelsior_—after a rapid but very rough descent, I found myself -prostrate on the pebbly beach—half buried in rubbish, and the faithless -stone that betrayed my unwary foot lying very uncomfortably upon what -should have been my lower limbs, though at that time they were elevated -considerably above my head, fixed, as in a vice, between a hillock of -pebbles and the fallen mass of rock. Great was my fright, greater my -pain, and greatest the consternation and alarm of my companions, who -soon extricated the fallen greatness from its perilous position, and -discovered that one of my legs was badly fractured, and both severely -crushed, while several serious bruises, in other parts of my person, -rendered me quite helpless, and apparently in great danger. What now was -to be done? There was a real tempest of sighs, groans, and lamentations, -and no small shower of tears; a goodly number of which fell from the -dark eyes of dear little Charlotte M’Lane, a perfect highland fairy, who -had been the joy beam of the party, through the day; ever moving, and -never weary, glad herself, and gladdening all around her. Now she sat -amid the cloaks which were spread for my accommodation, on a heap of -gathered fern, and supported my head in her lap, soothing, condoling, -and weeping by turns—or all together. And I, notwithstanding my sorry -plight, felt a queer kind of pleasure in being the object of such care -and solicitude, to one so young, so lovely, and so joyous-hearted. But -what was to be done? Night was gathering her shadows in the dells—and -though the day had been fine, we began to feel that - - “Not the summer solstice there - Tempers the midnight mountain air.” - -There seemed no means of conveying my poor mangled carcass along the -rugged paths of that broken district, and despair seemed gathering with -the gloom of the evening. - -Just at this juncture, a young man who stood above me on a crag burst -out with a tremendous hallo-o!! and continued to shout boisterously, and -wave his square yard of perfumed linen, with a grotesque earnestness. It -was soon apparent that he was signaling a boat, which appeared to be -crossing the lake, half a mile above us, and which was rendered visible -by - - “The western wave of ebbing day.” - -She returns my signal, cried Harry, jumping from his eminence, and -immediately roaring out that he had sprained his ankle most -unmercifully. Our comrades drew off his boot, and using it in place of a -pitcher, commenced pouring water on the injured limb. Meantime the boat -approached us, a commodious yacht built craft, carrying two oarsmen and -a young highlander, who realized my idea of Sir William Wallace, for he -was at once the most beautiful, noble and unconscious creature that my -eyes ever rested on. Addressing us with a lofty and yet gentle courtesy, -he inquired in what way he could be of service to us. Our forlorn -condition was soon explained to him, and it was speedily settled that he -should convey Harry, myself, and fairy Charlotte, to his mountain home, -while one of his boatmen should pilot the residue of the party to the -main road, where we had left our carriages. The young Scotsman, whose -name was Malcomb Douglas, assured us that we should receive both medical -and surgical attendance at his father’s house, where we should be -welcome until we were recovered of our injuries, or until we were -pleased to leave. My couch was speedily transferred to the bow of the -boat, and dear, lovely Charlotte was soon again burdened with my languid -head, for by this time I was both dispirited and faint. I took no note -of the voyage, except that our benefactor took the place at the oar of -him whom he had sent as guide to our party; and long before we landed -the night was dark, for the young moon, which shed a trembling radiance -on the opposite mountain shore, left our side of the deep, dark water in -a blacker shadow. - -At length we landed, and I had become so stiff and sore, from my undrest -injuries, that I lost my consciousness as they lifted me from the boat, -and on the ninth day after, awoke to find myself in a magnificently -furnished room, lying in a bed which might have beseemed a monarch, -while near my pillow, in an antique velvet-cushioned easy-chair, -reclined my fairy Charlotte, in a deep but apparently troubled sleep. I -soon recollected all that had befallen me, except the lapse of time -since the memorable night, and thinking that we had recently arrived, -did not wonder that Charlotte had sunk under her fatigue. So I composed -myself to sleep and kept her company in the land of dreams. - -I awoke again. It was still night, at least it seemed so in that -darkened apartment, but I could distinguish the rich and heavy ornaments -of the walls and ceiling, and the sumptuous embroidery of the heavy -tapestries, which swept from the lofty cornice to the floor; the antique -chair also stood by the bedside, but its late occupant was not there. I -moved, and raised my head somewhat from the pillow, when from the -concealment of my bed-curtain came forward a stately lady, apparently -fifty years of age, wearing a rich dress of black satin, and holding a -small golden night-lamp in her hand. She looked earnestly into my eyes a -moment, and then with a gentle grace, which betrayed no surprise or -other emotion, she inquired how I had rested, and if I found myself -better of my wounds. I replied that I felt quite well, when she shook -her head, bade me be quiet, and took her seat in the vacant chair. -Presently Charlotte stole softly into the room from a curtained recess, -and meeting my smile of recognition, uttered a cry of joy, laughed, -danced, wrung her hands, and finally wept like an infant, despite all -the efforts of the dark-robed lady to quiet her transports. I now -discovered that I had been a week delirious, and considered in a very -precarious condition; that Harry was nearly well, and that he and -Charlotte had been my constant attendants, aided by the lady present, -and other members of her household. Soon after a silvery haired old man, -came to my bedside, and being introduced as my physician, congratulated -me with courteous politeness on the favorable change in my condition, -adding that with proper care my recovery would be certain and speedy. - -Did you ever enjoy the luxury of an easy convalescence, surrounded by -every comfort, and attended by a smiling beauty, and jovial young -companion? What Elysium-like dreams employ the languid fancy—and what a -world of impossibilities gather around us, like tangible and familiar -things. I dreamed of a life of love and joy with fairy Charlotte. I -would win her, and bear her like a rich trophy to my transatlantic home. -Oh! we would be so happy. How would her buoyancy of spirit enhance all -my joys; and her ready sympathy, how it would soothe my sorrows; and -then what a nurse she would be, whenever I was ill. She liked me, that -was certain; of course I could win her love, and then my happiness was -secure. And I indulged in all the passionate vagaries of love dreaming, -until I felt that unconnected with Charlotte there was for me no -futurity. Thus passed one week more, and then I was permitted to occupy -the cushioned chair, and sit by the open window. It was singular that I -had felt so little curiosity respecting my host, and the singularity of -surrounding objects, but my love fancies had fully occupied my mind. - -Now, as I sat at the casement, which extended from floor to ceiling, and -had no other protection for the crystal crown-glass than the clinging -vines without, and the embroidered tapestries within, and looked out -upon the wild scenery, apparently uninvaded by the hand of cultivation, -which substitutes the useful for the beautiful, the production of Art -for the sublimity of Nature, I felt the awakening of a thousand wonders, -as to where I was, and with whom, and how the wealth of that chamber -found its way to that singularly hidden spot; and who was the stately -lady who occasionally came to my bedside; and how such a man as Malcomb -Douglas came to be an inhabitant of those mountain wilds? I had seen him -but seldom, since I regained my consciousness, but his manners were -perfect, and his conversation displayed unconsciously the treasures of a -rare and richly cultivated intellect. He seemed a being altogether above -the level of mankind. It would have seemed absurd to fancy him talking -nonsense, discussing fashions, or inquiring what he would get for -dinner. Yet he was not ignorant or unmindful of the courtesies, and -little conventionalities of life—but he seemed to hold them of no -moment, and give no thought to such trifles—which came to him -intuitively, and as belonging to daily intercourse. - -As I thus mused, gazing down upon the lake, and away to the opposite -hills, I observed, shooting out from behind an abrupt headland, a -beautiful little sail-boat, in which stood Malcomb Douglas, and which, -coming round the point, ran into a white pebbled bay, just in front of -and beneath my window; and then from a clump of hazels emerged my idol, -Charlotte, supported by no other than Harry Heath, who, it then occurred -to me, had mentioned in the morning that he should take my gentle nurse -out for a little exercise, as she was suffering from her close -attendance upon me. She was beautiful in the distance, but as she clung -to Harry’s arm, and looked up familiarly into his face, I felt a pang of -jealousy, the first that had ever wrung my bosom. They stepped into the -boat, and sat down together, and the little craft, as if proud of her -freight, put off gallantly along the shining water. And Charlotte would -be by Harry’s side—how long? - -“I fear you are in great pain,” came in anxious, inquiring tone upon my -ear. - -I started—my jealous feelings were living on my face. “Just a little -twinge,” I said, “occasioned by shifting my position indiscreetly.” - -“You should be very careful,” returned the good man who had been my -surgeon and doctor from the first, and who now advanced, examined the -position of my fractured limb, and took a seat beside me at the window. -“How gallantly yon little boat holds her way, with her living freight of -beauty, love and happiness,” he murmured, as if communing with himself; -“and yet a single blast of the mountain storm may whelm her, with all -her warm young hopeful heart, deep down in the cold weltering waves.” He -finished with a deep sigh, and a cold shudder ran through my frame, in -response to his fearful words. “Do not let me make you melancholy,” he -said, after a pause; “but I am an old man, and have endured many -sorrows, and have grown distrustful of the promises of happiness. -Reverses come so unexpectedly.” - -“I think,” said I, timidly, “that the owners of this mansion must have -known some strange reverse of fortune. It seems so singular to find the -manners of a court, and the luxury of a palace, in a rough stone -mountain dwelling.” - -The old gentleman looked earnestly in my face a moment. “I have never -spoken of these things to any one,” he said, “but if you feel -interested, I will tell you a tale, to beguile the time until the return -of your companions. Fifty years ago—for I am now seventy-eight—the -lady whom you have seen in this chamber was the loveliest creature that -ever existed out of heaven.” - -“Fifty years!” I exclaimed, “why she is not more than fifty years old.” - -“So any stranger would suppose,” was the quiet reply; “but she is near -seventy. But fifty years ago she was young, and lovely, and joyous; -more, she was the only and idolized daughter of a princess of the realm, -whose foreign lord fell in battle, having never seen his infant child. -The widowed princess lived in seclusion, though in the neighborhood of a -court; and though her daughter, the Lady Anna, received every advantage -in the way of education, she was never presented at court, or allowed to -mingle with courtly society. And, indeed, she seemed to feel no desire -for ostentatious display or admiration, but rather delighted in the -quiet of domestic life, and the unceremonious intercourse of confiding -friendship. I will not tell you whose son I am, but I was not deemed an -unsuitable companion for the royally-descended Lady Anna. My sister was -the friend and confident of the princess, and I was a privileged visiter -at her palace-home, and much in the society of her daughter from her -childhood. I am an old man now, but then I was a boy, and had a young, -ardent heart. I cannot tell when I first loved the Lady Anna. It seems -that I loved her from eternity. She was always perfect in my estimation. -Her actions were precisely what I would have dictated, and her words, -the expression of my heartfelt sentiments. And then she was so -beautiful—so truly beautiful. Not pretty; any young girl may be so -dressed and ornamented as to appear pretty—and we frequently hear of -styles of beauty; but true beauty is independent of dress or adornment; -you adore it, not because it is tastefully arrayed, but because it is of -itself adorable. I have seen ladies receiving homage as belles and -beauties, who, in homely attire, and engaged in household toils, would -have been really repulsive; but Lady Anna would have been entrancingly -beautiful in any dress, or at any occupation; and notwithstanding her -royal descent and superior attainment, she was gentle, unassuming, and -of a loving and confiding nature. To me she was always frank and like a -loving sister; and, oh, I was happy, perfectly happy in the possession -of her pure regards. I had not thought of a change in our relations, of -an interruption of our intercourse, of a separation—_never_! I felt as -if we should live on, for and with each other forever. Every place where -she had been was hallowed; every thing that she had touched, sacred in -my estimation; and whatsoever she had looked upon was dear to my eye, -and I felt that the light of her glance rested upon it. All my thoughts, -and words, and deeds, had reference to her, and her approval was the -whole aim of my life; and yet the selfish thought of appropriating her -to myself, of making her _mine_, was no part of my soul’s worship. To be -near her, to see her, and to hear her voice, was enough for my young -heart. - -“She was fifteen, and I three-and-twenty, when my guardians resolved to -send me as confidential secretary to the minister to Sweden. I ought to -have felt myself honored by this appointment, but I felt only an agony -of grief. To go away from Lady Anna, and all the places where we had -been together, was a trial which almost made me frantic. But I could not -decline the appointment—I must depart. The affair was so sudden, and I -had so little time for preparation, that I found no opportunity for a -private interview with Lady Anna. She expressed deep regret at our -approaching separation, but I felt, and keenly, that her sorrow was not -like mine, not the desolation of soul that made the day dark and the -night sleepless to me. Then I longed to tell her all my love—then I -felt that I would have her all my own; and then I doubted for the first -time the existence in her bosom of a love answering to my own. And in -this state of mind the day of departure found me. - -“‘You will write by every opportunity,’ she said, as I held her hand in -my tremulous grasp. Her voice was low and sad, and as she looked into my -face, tears gushed over her long eyelashes and fell large and bright -upon her bosom. My soul was a whirlwind. I prest her hand to my lips, -and hastened with unsteady steps from her presence. - -“Three years—only three years—and yet they seemed three ages, was I a -wanderer in stranger lands. I did write whenever I found -opportunity—but opportunities were not so frequent fifty years ago as -they are at present. So my missives were few, and only twice in those -three years was my heart delighted by the receipt of a letter from Lady -Anna. - -“Sweet and gentle were her words, like those of a loving sister, and yet -they did not satisfy my spirit. I longed for one passionate regret, one -ardent expression of hope for our reunion, one sentence that evidently -gushed involuntarily from a devoted heart. These were not in her -letters. - -“When it was announced to me that we were speedily to turn us homeward, -my heart leaped up with a great bound, and then seemed to sink, -pulseless, in my bosom. It was an agony like death; and from that hour -until we landed on our native shore, my mind was a perfect chaos, or -rather a tumult of opposite and contending emotions. Joy was fettered by -apprehension; hope was throttled by deadly fear, and doubt, like a -strong giant armed, beat back every ray of gladness, every beam of -joyous anticipation, every spirit that dared to whisper of happiness to -come. I thought of every event that might have occurred during the three -years of my absence—of death—change—misfortune—and I almost wished -for death, rather than the knowledge that awaited me; and yet I knew not -what was in store. - -“I arrived. The white cliffs—the silver beach—the green shore of my -native land, were all unchanged. The majestic Thames was all the same as -when last I passed adown its tide; the mighty city, with its towers and -palaces, gleamed in the sunlight, as it had done since my boyhood. -_There was no change._ My soul became calm, and as I traced the old -familiar streets, and looked up to the well known buildings and paused -in the shadow of the well-remembered trees, my heart became joyous, and -I sped on to the abode of my dear and only sister. I should hear of Lady -Anna there. - -“I did hear. The princess had fallen into a decline. A sojourn in Italy -had been named as her only chance of recovery, and to Italy she had -gone, accompanied, certainly, by her only child, the Lady Anna. They had -been gone nearly a year, and I need not tell you, that as soon as I -could make arrangements, I followed them to that far-famed lovely land. - -“They were at Pisa. I found them there. Our meeting was full of -gladness—but _they were changed_. The princess was wholly subdued by -pain and weakness. She was attenuated in person, and the lofty -expression of her face was softened by a look of meek endurance. Her -voice was low, and her smile—it came seldom—was sad, exceedingly. - -“And Lady Anna, anxiety and watching had taken away the buoyancy of her -person, and the sunlight of her spirit. She received me joyfully; but -ere the first interview was over, I detected a restlessness, a sort of -watching and insecurity in her eye and manner which had no reference to -me, and for which I accounted by referring to the precarious state of -her only parent’s health. Several times that day I observed her eyes -fixed on her mother’s face, and dimmed with gathering tears. - -“I discovered that here, as at home, she lived in seclusion, never -mingling with the gay world, and I sought to draw her into society, with -a view to divert her mind from its sadness. ‘I cannot join the dance, or -listen to sweet music,’ she replied, ‘while my dear mother is suffering -at home.’ I however persuaded her to go with me to some of the public -exhibitions of the beautiful in art. We had visited several galleries, -cabinets and churches; we had stood side by side, wrapt in awe or -admiration; we had walked together amongst the sweet breathed flowers, -and beneath the shadowy trees; we had stood upon the sea-coast, when the -stars looked down upon their trembling images in the deep mirroring -waters; we had looked together on many entrancing beauties of Nature as -well as of Art; and I had felt my soul struggling to pour out before her -the treasures of the inner temple of its love, but a something in her -manner restrained me—I could not tell her of a passionate love. Now she -was unto me as a loving sister—a declaration would change the relation -between us, I knew not if for joy or sorrow. - -“A mournful day arrived. The princess, who was forgotten by her country, -fell unexpectedly asleep to awaken no more till the heavens pass away. - -“Lady Anna arose from the heavy blow, and assumed a calm melancholy of -demeanor. Yet, to my surprise, she spoke not of returning home. Months -passed, and we were still at Pisa. Lady Anna suffering from an -uneasiness which she could not conceal, and which at times broke forth -in fits of passionate weeping, and again showed itself in almost sullen -silence, or something akin to peevishness. The balance of her fine mind -was evidently disturbed. She had a sorrow which she had not confided to -my love. - -“We were walking pensively along one of those glorious avenues, shadowed -by tall, dark leaved trees, one fine June morning, when we saw a gay -party, in open carriages, advancing from the country. Lady Anna, as -usual, drew her veil over her lovely face, and walked on without -evincing any curiosity, but I recognised some of the party, whom I had -seen abroad, and directing her attention to a particular vehicle, the -most magnificent in the _cortège_, I whispered, ‘there is a lady whom I -have heard you wish to see—the Princess L——. Is she not lovely? And -her husband is a noble looking man. Did you ever see his equal?’ I -turned to Lady Anna, expecting her reply. She stood still, and as I -touched her hand I started—it was cold and rigid as the hand of a -corpse. I lifted her veil, and my heart grew cold with fear and wonder. -Her face was white as death, and the features were fixed in an -expression of the most intense agony. The carriages had all passed by, -and there she stood, apparently changed to marble. I spoke to her, I -entreated her to speak or move, and at length the tension of her nerves -gave way, and she sunk powerless in my arms. A vehicle chanced that way, -and I lifted her in, and bore her to her hotel. Sixteen hours she lay -with no sign of life, except an almost imperceptible breathing, and then -she rallied, lifted her head from the pillow, and looked wildly round -the room, then clenching her hands together, she burst into a passion of -lamentation and bitter weeping. I never witnessed distress equal to -hers. She cried aloud, and her tears came not in drops, but flowed in -continuous streams, and every sob seemed as if it had torn her heart -asunder. I dreaded that she would suffocate in that tempest of agony. -But she turned from my attempts to soothe, and wept on until her -strength was utterly exhausted. She did not rise from her bed until -several weeks were past, and then she was more like a corpse than a -living woman. The bloom never came back to her cheek, the smile to her -lip, or the lustre to her eye. She spoke not of the day, or the cause to -the commencement of her illness—and I did not presume to ask any -explanation. On the commencement of her illness I had taken rooms -adjoining hers, and now I frequently heard her walking to and fro in her -chamber a great portion of the night. It was a clear, starry midnight, -one of those holy seasons when the earth is dark, and the atmosphere too -transparent to be luminous, when we look away into the clear ether, and -almost comprehend the immense distances to the bright distant disc of -the innumerable stars. I was sleepless, and stood at my casement looking -out upon earth and heaven. There was a knock at my door. I turned and -admitted the Lady Anna. Pale she was, as usual, but she seemed unusually -agitated. I besought her to be seated, and to honor me with her -commands. - -“‘Godolphin,’ she said, solemnly, ‘tell me the name and title of the man -whom we saw seated beside the Princess L——?’ - -“‘Surely his name is no secret,’ I said; ‘all Europe knows him—he is -king of ——.’ - -“‘Swear this to me,’ she said. - -“‘Poor lady,’ I ejaculated mentally, ‘she is deranged’—but I swore the -oath prescribed. - -“‘Now listen,’ she continued; ‘this king, under an assumed name, sought -me in my seclusion, won my love—my _love_, I say,—and we were -privately married, more than two years ago. I need not repeat the -sophistries by which he persuaded me that he had imperious reasons for a -temporary concealment, reasons which I should one day know, and which I -must approve. My mother’s illness rendered it easy to elude her -suspicion, and when you came, we still kept our secret. He was generally -absent from Pisa, on pretence of business—but I saw him frequently. I -was expecting a visit from him daily when we met him on that fatal walk. -I have not seen him since, though he has implored an interview, if but -for five minutes. I will never see him more.’ And a wail of anguish, -which no words could utter, struggled up from her broken heart. I -essayed to speak. ‘No, no,’ she said, ‘I have not finished. I am dead to -the world. Let it be understood that I lie with my mother. Would to God -it were so, indeed. You will serve me. I know you will. Provide for me, -then, a retreat, where none who ever knew me may hear of me again. I -have contemplated death—suicide; but I will live to weep, and pray, and -suffer.’ - -“Oh, what words for my ear were these. I felt to thank heaven that the -darkness enabled me to hide my emotions from her, for my suffering was -terrible. I felt light and hope, earth and heaven, at once annihilated. -When she declared that she had loved another, my heart died within my -bosom. It has never since throbbed as it was wont to throb at every -thought of her. I no longer loved, but existence had become a void. The -fair temple of my youth, with its idol, and all its beautiful treasures, -was at once swept away, and the dark flood rolled sluggishly where my -joys had been. I felt, not agony, but desolation; not regret, but cold -despair. But I would live for her sake—she was miserable, and I could -assist her. - -“Then I bethought me of this ancient castle, which had been a stronghold -of my ancestors, and had fallen greatly to decay. I offered to repair -it, and bring her hither. She thanked me warmly, and I came and -commenced my repairs. I had always loved this glorious Highland scenery, -where the mountains lie forever watching the reflection of their -magnificent features in the mirroring lake below, as if watching the -lights and shadows on their rugged brows, and the graceful floating of -the tresses of yellow broom, bound and crowned with the dark wreathing -heather, shining with sunlight, or gemmed with drops of dew, or the -diamonds of the summer shower. And when the summer is old, and like a -forsaken woman, casts her ornaments from her with showers of tears and -heavy sighing; the mountains seem to watch the fall of the verdure on -the bosom of the waters, until they see the splendor of the wintry stars -forming a diadem around their snow-crested heads. These scenes of -sublime beauty, I judged, were well calculated to soothe the tumult in -both our spirits; and here, where the breezes whisper to each other -across the deep, narrow dell, I formed a little paradise of fruit trees -and glowing shrubs, and furnished these rough halls with the -sumptuousness of a palace; and then I brought Lady Anna and her infant -daughter home. To my household I presented her as my sister, and a -widow; and their Scottish hearts received her with a ready sympathy, and -respected a sorrow which seemed to them so natural and commendable. To -those who had known her, I said the Lady Anna is no more. The loss of -her mother broke her gentle heart. My heart was dead, yet I regarded her -as a dear sister; and to this day she knows not that I ever felt more -for her than a brother’s love. And now that we were all the world to -each other, I enjoyed a calm that seemed very like happiness. Her child, -the little Lady Adela, soon engrossed our warmest affections; she was a -sweet and lovely child, but no way like her mother. She had clear blue -eyes, fair curling hair in rich abundance, a complexion of transparent -pink and white, and though delicately formed, she was plump and -exquisitely moulded. Her intellect was wonderful, yet she was a -simple-minded, loving and confiding child. She grew to be a part of my -being. Her mother hardly loved her more than I. Her education was our -delight—she was so docile, so quick to receive instruction. Earth hath -been graced with very few like her. The beautiful bud became a flower, -yet she seemed more pure and spiritual than in her childhood. - -“‘If I might ask one boon for my child,’ said Lady Anna, one evening, as -we were speaking of Lady Adela’s future prospects. ‘If I might obtain -one boon for her, I would pray that she might never feel the pulse of -human love.’ - -“Poor Lady Anna, her experience had been bitter—and mine, I could have -answered, Amen, to her prayer. But a lone traveler craved hospitality at -our postern. He was handsome, noble, and virtuous. Adela learned to -reply to the love which grew up in his heart for her. It was a dreadful -trial to our doating hearts, but we gave her, with our blessing, to her -beloved, and put bonds upon our feelings, when she bade a sobbing -farewell, and left her own dear home for a splendid station in the -queenly city of Edinburgh. - -“The knowledge that she was happy in her new home, was a sweet solace to -our loneliness; and when, in less than two years, she came with her fine -young boy to spend the time of the summer heat with us, we were -supremely happy. Womanhood had not dimmed the gladness of her heart, or -withered the flowers of her childish glee and affection. Wisdom had come -to her, unaccompanied by sadness. - -“Toward autumn her young husband arrived, to spend a few days and take -her with him home. There was a gay party assembled in these old halls, -and for days there was feasting, and mirth, and music, excursions on the -hills, and parties on the water. It was a lovely afternoon in the fitful -September. The two boats were manned, and the barge provided with -implements and tackle for fishing, took the gentlemen on board, while -the ladies accompanied them in the lighter and more elegant sail-boat. -They shoved out from the shore, with music and shouts and laughter. We -wished them a joyful sail, and turned to our avocations of preparation -for the evening meal and entertainment of the party. We sighed as we -thought how soon we should be left to the old silence and loneliness. -Our preparations were completed—the day was drawing to a close. I found -Lady Anna at this very casement, looking out upon the lake, watching for -the return of our beloved. I took the station I now occupy, but my eyes -rested on my silent companion’s face. She did not look at me, and I -gazed unchecked until the past, with all its shadows rose up around me. -I trembled in every nerve, and felt the waters of the swollen heart rise -tingling to my eye-lids. I knew not what possessed me, but I felt as if -I must kneel before her, and confess all the passion, the presumption of -my youth. - -“‘Look! look!’ she cried, ‘they come!’ and far up at the point of yonder -noble bluff, I beheld the boats heading toward home. Just at that moment -came a low growl upon a fitful gust, and instinctively we turned our -eyes toward the west. Black, billowy clouds were surging and heaving -above the mountain crest like a stormy ocean, and down that rugged gorge -the dusky masses of mist came turmoiling like giants wrestling in the -death-struggle, and the winds groaned and shrieked adown the defile. - -“Lady Anna grew white—I had seen her so once before; my own heart grew -heavy with a pain like death. - -“‘Oh, God! Oh, merciful God!’ came from Lady Anna’s still lips, in -accents of heart-piercing agony. If they could but outstrip the storm; -if they could but near the coast before it leapt upon the lake. It was -evident that they knew the danger, and exerted all their powers; the -boats glided swiftly over the smooth, black surface of the water, which -lay as if concentrating itself to meet the onset of the aerial force. -Our eyes turned from the boats to the upheaving storm; our souls were -aghast in the horrible suspense—fear—dread—extreme terror—held hope -in a throttling grasp; more than our lives were at stake, and we were -powerless—utterly powerless to retard the danger or aid the souls in -peril. We could only stand here, and gaze with wide-open, glazed eyes -upon the scene. Oh, I think I see it now re-enacting before me. The -light sail-boat led in the race, and with our telescope we could -distinguish our child standing upright in the bow, her face raised, as -if watching the portentous clouds, and her white hands clasped over the -black mantle that covered her bosom. At the tiller of the barge stood -her husband, while the sturdy rowers strove to keep pace with the flight -of the sail-boat; and so they sped on to escape, if possible, the -tornado which lay growling like a couchant lion, ready to leap in its -irresistible fury upon them. The dark billows of the cloud lay high -above yon mountain wall, but for a time they seemed to make no progress, -or rather to sink back upon themselves. How our hearts panted and -stretched toward our treasures, as if we would draw them from the peril. -As they were coming from that point, and the storm rising over that -eminence, you will perceive that the wind would take them broadside, and -thus greatly increase their danger. You see that all along the opposite -shore there is no safe landing place, and they were far out on the lake -when they first perceived the clouds rising above the heights. Then -there was no time for thought or reflection, and they seemed to imagine -that their only chance was to reach the shelter of these heights before -the wind should intercept them. - -“During the temporary lull of the storm, a trembling angel, almost hope, -hovered over us. Our souls went out toward the mariners, every dip of -their oars fell upon our distended hearts, striking thence a quick gasp, -and a pulse of pain—and thus we stood, the gathering darkness falling -like a mountain veil between us and the objects of our anguished -solicitude. - -“Oh, God! what a blaze of lightning rent the gloom, and pierced, like a -shower of flashing poniards, soul and sense; while a clang, as of the -rending to atoms of an iron mountain, stunned our ears. Then the storm -spread its black wings, and sprang like a fierce vulture from the -heights, leaving a line of lurid red between it and the horizon. The -crisis was at hand. Were the boats within the shelter of the land? They -were nearing our side of the lake rapidly. We could not breathe. At that -moment our Adela, who had not moved since we first descried her, lifted -her hands to heaven with an expression of the most agonized despair—and -now the doom fell. With the rush and roar of a cataract the wind came -down upon the lake. It met the water _between us and the boats_. The -spray went up to heaven. Lady Anna sunk back with a shuddering groan. -The lake was a tumult of warring elements. Fierce winds, waters, thunder -and wrestling flames contending in a horrid turmoil. I turned away and -sunk upon my knees beside the mother, whose heart felt upon its -quivering chords the death-agony of the dear one who was perishing in -the boiling waves. My soul was benumbed with horror; I had no word of -hope for her, and there was no consolation. I lifted her form and held -her to my heart, with only one wish, that then and there we might die -together.” - -The tremulous voice of the old man ceased, and for a while he wept like -a stricken woman. At length he resumed. - -“They were lost—all lost. A few fragments of the boats was all we ever -found. That storm made many mourners beside ourselves. Widows and -orphans, young girls and aged parents, wept the buried in the water. We -all sought to sustain each other; and Lady Anna and myself were -sustained not merely by a submissive dependence upon Jehovah, but by the -sense of a responsibility toward our lost Adela’s infant son. He has -been our care, our hope, our pride. You can testify that there are few -equals for Malcomb Douglas—that is his baptismal name. His father’s -name and title may one day be borne by him, and receive more honor than, -noble as they are, they can confer. - -“I know not why I have told you these things, except it be that our -identity may not perish. I will give you on this card our real names, -and, as in the revolutions of nations, the forgotten are remembered, and -the lost found, you may sometime hear of us honorably, or read our story -on the half fabulous page of national history. But I thought not of -these things. When I saw the gay young party put off an hour ago, it -brought the past so vividly to my mind, that I felt constrained to tell -you how the pure may be deceived—how the virtuous may suffer, how the -noble may shrink into obscurity, how the world’s idols may be forgotten; -and, most of all, that nobility, education, moral greatness and purity, -with all gentle virtues and all lofty aspirations, may exist in -retirement, unknown and unregarded by a world that should be proud to -wear them as jewels upon its bosom. But He that doeth all things well, -will reward every man according to his works. So let it be.” - -I thanked the old gentleman amid the tears that I could not restrain; -and he expressed his gratitude for my sympathy. - -I knew not what effect his story wrought upon me, but I forgot both my -love and my jealously; and heard the announcement of Charlotte M’Lane’s -engagement to Harry Heath with real pleasure. I left the hospitable -mansion of my illustrious host and hostess with deep regret, impressed -with the dignity of virtue, and the importance of a firm trust in the -goodness and wisdom of the Ruler of the Universe. I have since heard the -name of young Malcomb heralded by the voice of fame, and trust that his -career will be one of unparalleled usefulness and splendor. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE TWO PATHS. - - - BY MRS. MARY B. HORTON. - - -The Lord of all things planted a garden at the foot of the hill of life. -It was like a flowered plain. The heavens wore a gentle smile, and the -earth was fresh and green, with no deadness of stalk or stem upon -flowers or trees. The shout of glad, young voices made its music as -birds made the music of the air, and merry troops danced with a -lightness peculiar to that garden of joy, over the soft yielding turf -from which no serpent’s sting ever came forth. - -Sweet fountains gushed up in shady places, where the happy ones rested -from their play, and beautiful vistas opened on every side, formed of -bright garlands, which fell on the brows of the childish throng like -crowns. Through the clustering branches of ever-budding trees the bright -light glanced, excepting when a transient cloud passed over, leaving -dew-jewels sparkling in the sun. - -This was the garden of infancy—those clouds the fleeting sorrows of -childish hearts which leaves the tear upon the smiling cheek. The -fountains in the shady places were those of sinless memory—the vistas -were Hope’s. - -Angels on busy wings swept over the beautiful place, watching, as -messengers of the Great Throne, the doings of these young creatures, who -in the garden of love and peace knew not the roughness of the road which -lay beyond its mossy boundaries. From time to time these angels caught a -sweet one from the dancing crowd, and bore it tenderly to the bosom of -the “Well Beloved.” And such were blessed; for they had only known the -joy of their garden home—their feet had never toiled through the dust -of that hilly way rising beyond the plain. A line of glistening wings -was thus kept up between the garden and the Throne, by the passing up of -angels with their beautiful gifts; and the groups thus broken in upon -were taught to grieve not for sweet companions so well beloved of -Heaven, so that their sunny sports went on with but a momentary shadow. - -The gentle lamb and heavenly dove nestled against the breast of fondling -little ones, or answered to their call as if their mate’s. With Hope’s -garlands on their brows, and their feet sandaled with flowers, the -dancers counted not time, as those on the outer hill counted it, by -hours, but let it make its annual rounds unnoticed, until the period -arrived for them to leave the pure retreat. Time was to them no -gray-haired tyrant with a warning hour-glass, but a kind friend laden -ever with roses and smiles. It beckoned them to play, it beckoned them -to rest, and they saw not the different face and burden it sometimes -bore until they had gone out beyond the gates. - -Upon a mossy bank in this garden of infancy lay an infant boy. Its -chubby, dimpled hands played with the flowers of innocence and joy that -grew luxuriantly in that pure atmosphere. The light of that blessed -place danced in his eyes, and its sweet music was succeeded by his tiny -shout. While he thus lay, a little girl stole out from a playful group, -and gliding to his side threw her fond arms around him and kissed his -beaming face with the quick love of a warm heart. The baby pressed his -face against his sister’s with an answering lovingness, and passed his -fingers through her curling hair with a low laugh of happiness, echoed -with the maturity of two summer’s longer life, by the little one bending -over him. How holy a thing was the love they bore each other, and how -stainless were their souls as each answered to the other in purity and -joy. The angels rested on their clear wings to write upon their -foreheads “of such is the kingdom of heaven,” and rejoiced that they -were appointed guardians over them, to whisper good when evil tempted -them upon the outer hill. - -Some of the older ones even in that peaceful place looked out upon the -hill with longing for the journey. They saw the continuous band of -youths and maidens going out from the garden gates, and longed to reach -the age which was to free them from the gentle laws of their garden -nursery. Oh, how sad was the reasoning which had led to this desire—how -sure the pleasures of that sweet place they dwelt in—how bitter might -be the anticipated delights of the Hill of Life. The gay crowds hurrying -up the hilly way seemed in the distance like a merry company with no -care or pain. Their shouts and songs came on the breeze like the -gushings of sunny hearts knowing no cloud. The listening ears of the -waiting ones inside the gates heard not the sighs which broke from -gifted spirits, they caught not the silent prayer of the weary and -broken-hearted. - -The baby boy had grown to take his place in the line of youths who were -to leave forever the home of childhood and its innocent delights. His -sister was by his side, and on their dear young heads an invisible hand -was laid blessingly, as they stepped out upon the dusty way. They had -left their home of joy, they were to walk evermore upward, upward, -through unknown snares and by the borders of dreadful depths. Yet their -hearts beat hopefully and strong, and the first day’s travel was so easy -and so new, that they mourned not for the childish sports of the garden -left behind, and gayly looked forward to their life-long pilgrimage. - -Flowers they found in their way somewhat resembling those their infant -hands had plucked, and sweet voices fell upon their ears which sounded -quite as holy as those in their first home. They talked together of the -teachings they had so often listened to, of the warnings they had been -impressed with, as the time drew near for them to leave the garden -gates. In their young wisdom they believed their guardian teachers had -looked with perverted eyes upon the travelers of the hill, and with over -earnest zeal had given them too dark a character. They had spoken of -serpents hidden beneath the grass—of snares like a mine laid out under -flowery beds. They had painted false smiles, and spoken of honeyed words -spoken to deceive. They had prayed that the guileless travelers would -allow themselves no chain which might seem to be of flowers, but would -prove to be of iron, eating deep wounds into the soul. What could they -have meant by all these pictures and all these prayers? The way had been -as yet but short, yet surely as they looked up, the same appearance of -ease and joy broke on them. They still walked hand in hand, still loved -such flowers as they loved in the plain beneath, still looked toward the -Throne at morning and at night as their eyes had ever been led to do. -Their ministering angels still followed them on wings of joy, because -they walked so pure and lovingly, and would have spread their brightness -round them to have kept off evil forever, if their Lord had not given to -these travelers of the hill a work for their own hearts, which, if “well -done,” would meet with a most bountiful reward. Prayer, in time of -danger from a false step or slippery way, would bring their willing aid, -but prayer must first be warmly breathed to show a holy faith. - -On, on they went, guarding their days by morning adoration, and bringing -by their evening supplication sweet rest to their feet and beautiful -visions to their hearts. They had been told that at a certain point two -ways met, of which they must choose the right or left. And soon they -found themselves surrounded by a hesitating crowd at the entrance of the -paths. The narrow one had for its guide-post the holy book of their -Lord, with opened page, from which, in golden characters, spoke -forth—“The way to Heaven.” At the entrance of the other was a figure, -the body concealed with flowers, but the face exposed. The eyes were of -ravishing delight, and the mouth dropped musical and melting tones, -which to that company of inexperienced youth seemed like the sweet -promises of heavenly joy. She told of beautiful and social scenes, -prepared in lovely places all along the roomy and cheerful way she would -lead them through. She spoke with smiling lightness of the dull routine -of duties and unexciting pleasures of the path which so few choose, and -pointed gayly with tempting finger to the laughing crowds treading the -broad way of which she was the queen—and what a queen! So fair of face, -so full of joyousness, so innocent of speech. She spoke of the Great -Father who was the lord of all upon that hill, and with delicious -earnestness pleaded for the hearts of that young company, because their -lord would not condemn their feet for dancing on the flowers she would -strew along their path. He would not be so cruel-hearted as to frown -upon His children’s joy. Oh! how the company of angels, who hovered -round, watched for the decisive step of the young creatures they had -followed from the garden walls. Some had hid their faces in their bright -wings for grief, when they had seen the cherished beings of the innocent -home choose the left hand path which their heavenly natures knew would -lead to Death. Yet, with faces veiled, they followed the deluded ones, -in hopes to win them back before they strayed too far. - -And what was our brother’s and sister’s choice? The boy looked wistfully -toward the glittering throng, which danced and laughed amid the wreaths -and brilliant artificial light of the broad way, but followed his -sister’s guidance toward the path whose light was from the Throne. The -angels, whose care they were, rejoiced, and followed with a low song of -triumph the holy travelers. - -The boy, through love for his dear friend, murmured not for a time at -the calm and peaceful way they trod. But his imagination, naturally so -vivid and bright, had nothing to revel in as they walked upward side by -side with holy men and pure, who sung the praises of the Good King as -they rose toward the crown. This crown glittered upon the summit of the -hill as a promise of eternal rest and joy for the unmurmuring and -patient traveler. - -But the heart of the young man became listless; and his eyes became dull -to see the lustre of the crown as it shone fast by the Lord’s high -throne. From discontent he went to murmuring. His sister and his angel -whispered loving words to the clouded heart, and sought earnestly to win -it back to feel the beauty of the journey they had commenced so -joyfully. But no! the distant sound of mirth, the distant glitter of -fine sights, and spectacles appearing so ingenious and rare, caught his -wandering senses at every turn. His quiet journey became a burden to -him. His sister’s face became a sad reproach. The crown looked dim upon -the summit. To his changed eye the holy men and women walked like monks -and nuns in solemn company. His excited fancy would make it seem -injustice that the Lord who made the way, should have had its pavement -so hard and rough, when the broader path was carpeted with flowers, -which could yield to the bounding foot so gently, and ever be so fresh. - -More and more the prospect changed to his changed eyes. The ascent now -was steep and wearisome, and oh! how the sad, sweet face of his garden -friend, the sister of his childhood passed on the mossy banks, how it -looked upon him longingly, as if the pilgrimage even in the narrow way -would be half sorrowful if he went not up with her to the end. His angel -shone from her eyes its look of pleading, but all were lost upon the -evil-awakened youth, who saw no stars in that pure heaven, no guide in -that pleasant way worth following. More and more as his heart gave up -the treasures of its infancy, the revel of the other path broke on his -ear. His eyes gazed oftener on the distant groups than on his sister’s -face, or the high crown. That sister prayed, besought with tears that he -would let his guardian spirit guide him, that he would call upon the -messengers of the Throne to disarm the tempters who were changing his -heart. And yet he, the object of that fond one’s watching thus far upon -the road, he who in sweet babyhood had been her pride and hope even in -her own young years, he turned and left her! Turned and fled, not daring -to look back and catch another glimpse of her pale face! he fled, and -how short was now the way to Pleasure’s arms; the gain of long year’s -travels how quickly lost. He stood once more where the two paths met, -and looked a moment on the plain below, where yet was green the home of -his childhood’s innocence. For a moment came the memory of the spirits -he had carried from it as inmates of his soul. He gazed upon its quiet -loveliness, and sighed in his bewilderment and guilt, for the season of -his infancy, that he might be again a child and play amongst those -garden flowers. - -It could not be! And sealing his brow with the stamp of determined -hardihood, he turned from the retrospect of his boyhood’s purity, and -gave his hand to the fair-faced queen, who welcomed him more gladly that -he came from the rival path. - -How wildly did he enter now into all the scenes of that gay place! He -sought to drown his angel’s whisperings in revels, and at first he -succeeded well, for the parties he joined were of those, who, like -himself, were neophytes to the reigning queen, and were not yet quite -slaves to the hideous form so shrouded in flowers. But the innocent -joyfulness grew more evil at every step, for in this gay kingdom there -was no restraining power, and the poor misguided youth who had left the -quiet walk where every onward step induced to purity, now saw the ruin -which came by unsuspected agencies upon the hearts and forms of these -thoughtless travelers. Guilt grew more familiar at every turn. He could -see that his companions grew old before their time, and almost -imperceptibly changed their careless mirth and slight indulgences to -wicked merriment and love for evil practices, which they would have once -despised. - -Palaces rose up on every side, filled with sparkling drinks, which -drowned the voices of grieved angels, and gave exulting life to the -dread demon of Human Will. The laughter which had come faintly to his -ears when he was by his lost sister’s side, like the sound of a joyful -stream, now was like a raging river, wild and ruinous. Gay women -fluttered on with “Vanity” written in jewels upon their foreheads, and -the beauty of their girlhood lost under the weight of fashion’s charms. -How the heart of that lost wanderer turned to his sister’s memory, and -read there how chaste, how simple, how lovely she walked, unmindful of -the garments her body wore if her spirit shone in the garb of holiness. - -He looked toward the path she was now treading alone, and could tell her -untiring step, and see the light of her high brow as it was at times -uplifted to the throne—praying for him! Those gay women looked like -painted sepulchres as he turned back; and though they shook their -jeweled fingers at him playfully, and tried to win his admiration by -outward charms, his heart compared them with the gentle presence of his -sister in the heavenly path, and it learned to lothe the beings whose -souls were unadorned and dark. They had been beautiful, but had lost the -roses of their cheeks, the jewels of their eyes, the sweet sign of -modesty upon their brow, and now owed Art a debt which grew with every -year. - -As he went on he found corners of the road darkened by groups of human -forms with faces of spirits from the cave of darkness where the fire -burns. They watched with starting eyes the ivory balls they rolled, or -painted characters they handled, as if they were the chances of Heaven; -and when their gold was lost would start up furious, and commit some -dreadful deed upon themselves or their companions. Disgusting pictures -of indulgence and debauchery in every shape, now met the almost frenzied -eye of the regretful wanderer. Carelessly besotted feet trod the -uncertain borders of the frightful precipice, or with uneven step -stalked on toward the gulf of hopelessness. The light, which had been so -dazzling at the commencement of the way, had been put out, and darkness -would have been over all that crowd, if the mercy of the Throne had not -let its light fall upon the guilty ones, that, if they would, they might -see their passage back to the holy way. - -Oh! had that wanderer tasted all the joy he fancied could be drunk of in -that broad path? Had the glittering scenes been real? Had the promises -of the syren been fulfilled? Had his heart been satisfied with the -friendship, his feet with the flowers of that fair-seeming place? Oh, -no! His brain was reeling with the discordant sounds, his senses were -confused, his heart was agonized by the cries of rage, and complaints -breathed bitterly against the Throne. Oh! could he dare brave the sneers -of his companions and turn back: Could he, distressed and weakened, run -the gauntlet of that deriding crowd! Oh no he had no courage left for -such a trial. He knew the purity of his brow was gone, the freshness of -his heart; and how, if he ever should escape from that dreadful way, -would his sister’s eye rest on him? - -As he thought of this, he turned toward the path of her calm pilgrimage, -and saw a greater light as a halo round her pale brow, and her pleading -eye still turned upward toward the Throne! His angel gently whispered -“fly!” And as he stopped upon his course to listen, he felt the pressure -of the hand which had been laid upon his head as he went out from the -garden-gates, and his strong heart came back! His feet forgot their -weariness, his eye grew large with hope, his spirit threw off its -cowardice, and with a loud, clear voice, which his sister caught as a -joyful answer to her prayers, he declared himself a prodigal, and -entreated all that graceless company to follow him to peace and -happiness. - -Oh! how many accents there were in the answering shouts that filled the -echoing way. Despair sent up its dreadful note—shame and defiance added -their discordant tones. From the deep caves of guilty sorrow came a -wail, and from lone places where the body diseased with crime lay -suffering, a cry arose which chilled even the polluted blood of those -who wandered in guilt so near. - -None answered the returning one with like repentance, although from the -heavy eyes of some a faint desire for a moment gleamed, to flee with him -from misery. But the laugh which rung so loud, and with such a mocking -echo of contempt, put out the spark which might have kindled to such a -glorious blaze, and he turned alone upon his backward way. And now -fingers were pointed at him, laughter followed him—his garments were -laid hold of to arrest his steps. Many who sighed for his courage, and -envied him the way his face was turned, laid stumbling-blocks before his -feet, to turn them back—to gain a triumph over him would make their own -depravity seem less dark. But they could not conquer him. His angel -strengthened him, and he kept the name of the Great Lord upon his lips -and in his heart, and so he made his way free from the striving hands -and tempting wiles of his companions, and joyfully reached once more the -side of his sister in the upward path. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE RAIN. - - - BY T. A. SWAN. - - - The birds sing gayly in their bowers, - And we can gather what they sing; - But what, falling ’mong leaves and flowers, - What is the soft rain whispering. - - I cannot understand their word— - Some tale those bright drops tell, I know, - For the corn leaves move as if they heard, - And barley fields nod to and fro. - - The lily turns its chalice up - To catch the legends as they fall, - And on the blue-bell’s tiny cup - Rings many a fairy festival. - - The brooklet o’er the meadow spreads, - And then, like elves, they dance and sing; - And clovers hang their blushing heads, - Like little creatures listening. - - It is some good thing they relate; - For when the cloud has passed the sun, - The green fields smile with joy elate, - As the world had put new glory on. - - And so, to me, they chant a strain - Uncomprehended by the sense, - But when they dash the window-pane, - I feel their soothing influence. - - They lead me back to some bright scene, - Some fair spot in the shadowy past, - Which glows like the broad moon’s silver sheen - Far off upon the waters cast. - - They ope the pleasant gate of dreams, - And from the phantom-world beyond, - How visions bright, in golden streams, - Like gift from an enchanter’s wand. - - Kind dreams of sweet imagining— - Of the maiden fair shall love me well; - But mystic are the strains they sing, - Who she may be they will not tell. - - And through the Future’s golden aisles, - They bear me up on angel wing; - And many a truth I’ve learned the whiles - From the bright rain softly whispering. - - * * * * * - - - - - WILD-BIRDS OF AMERICA. - - - BY PROFESSOR FROST. - - -[Illustration] - - - THE CAROLINA PARROT. - -This bird is the only species of Parrot found native in the United -States. It not only abounds in the rich and flowery groves of our -Southern States, but is found in great numbers among the prairies of the -West, on the banks of the Ohio and the Mississippi, and even along the -shores of Lake Michigan. Most Parrots droop or die in cold weather; but -the Carolina Parrots are frequently seen during a snow-storm, flying -about in flocks, and by their loud cries seeming to enjoy the -consciousness of their own hardiness. But though a resident in our -Western States it is rarely seen east of the Alleghanies. Its favorite -food—the seeds of the cockle-bur—abounds in the wilds and forests of -the West. Amid the rich alluvial soils, shaded by dense forests of -sycamore and buttonwood, or covered with impenetrable swamps, the -Carolina finds a secure and delightful retreat. Here also are found the -seeds of the cypress and hackberry, and the beech-nut; while the soil -abounds with those formations known as licks, the salt of which is much -relished by the Parrot. The Carolina possesses a full share of that love -for destructive mischief which appears indigenous to his genus. In the -natural state it cares little for apples, if other food be at hand, but -it delights to mount an apple-tree, and twisting the fruit off one by -one to strew it over the ground. - -The Carolina Parrot is about thirteen inches long, and twenty-one across -the spread wings. The head is red, the neck a rich yellow; and in other -parts of the body these colors are sprinkled with considerable -profusion. The remaining plumage is mostly a bright green, changing to -yellow, with light blue reflections. The feet and bill are either a -cream or flesh color, and the claws and shafts of the large feathers -black. The plumage of the female differs very little from that of the -male; but the young birds undergo several changes of color before -assuming the dress of their parents. - -In captivity this bird appears to lose little of its sprightly habits, -although it never becomes entirely reconciled to the cage. Unless -closely watched it will gnaw and break through the wood of its cage, and -twist the wires, for the purpose of escaping. On the whole, it is a -pleasing companion, being in a great measure destitute of the love for -clamorous screaming which distinguishes most of the other Parrots. Its -usual food in the cage should be corn and beech-nuts, but if hungry it -will eat apples, various kinds of seeds and berries. - -Wilson in his American Ornithology gives the following interesting -account of the Carolina Parrot, as seen by him in its native haunts in -the West: - -“At Big Bone Lick, thirty miles above the mouth of Kentucky River, I saw -them in great numbers. They came screaming through the woods in the -morning, about an hour after sunrise, to drink the salt water, of which -they, as well as the pigeons, are remarkably fond. When they alighted on -the ground, it appeared at a distance as if covered with a carpet of the -richest green, orange and yellow; they afterward settled in one body on -a neighboring tree, which stood detached from any other, covering almost -every twig of it, and the sun shining strongly on their gay and glossy -plumage, produced a very beautiful and splendid appearance. Here I had -an opportunity of observing some very particular traits of their -character: Having shot down a number, some of which were only wounded, -the whole flock swept repeatedly around their prostrate companions, and -again settled on a low tree within twenty yards of the spot where I -stood. At each successive discharge, though showers of them fell, still -the affection of the survivors seemed rather to increase; for, after a -few circuits around the place, they again alighted near me, looking down -on their slaughtered companions with such manifest symptoms of sympathy -and concern, as completely disarmed me. I could not but take notice of -the remarkable contrast between their elegant manner of flight and their -lame and crawling gait among the branches. They fly very much like the -Wild Pigeon, in close compact bodies, and with great rapidity, making a -loud and outrageous screaming, not unlike that of the Red-headed -Woodpecker. Their flight is sometimes in a direct line, but most usually -circuitous, making a great variety of elegant and easy serpentine -meanders, as if for pleasure. They are particularly attached to the -large sycamore, in the hollow of the trunks and branches of which they -generally roost, thirty or forty, or more, entering at the same hole. -Here they cling closely to the sides of the trees, holding fast by the -claws, and also by the bills. They appear fond of sleep, and often -retire to their holes during the day, probably to take their regular -_siesta_. They are extremely sociable, and fond of each other, often -scratching each other’s heads and necks, and always at night nestling as -close as possible to each other, preferring at that time a perpendicular -position, supported by their bill and claws. In the fall, when their -favorite cockle-burs are ripe, they swarm along the coast or high ground -of the Mississippi, above New Orleans, for a great extent. At such times -they are killed and eaten by many of the inhabitants; though, I confess, -I think their flesh is very indifferent. I have several times dined on -it from necessity, in the woods, but found it merely passable, with all -the sauce of a keen appetite to recommend it.” - -[Illustration] - - - THE WASHINGTON EAGLE. (_Haliætus Washingtonii._) - -For a long time this bird was almost unknown; and though specimens of it -appear to have been examined even by scientific men, its identity as a -distinct species remained hidden until the year 1814. In February of -that year Mr. Audubon, while voyaging up the Mississippi, noticed here -and there a solitary bird, soaring above the rocky cliffs, entirely -different, as it appeared to him, from any species with which he was -acquainted. After much search he discovered an eyry on the high cliffs -of Green River, in Kentucky, and was enabled to make such observations -as convinced him that this was a new, and hitherto unknown, species of -Eagle. From its noble bearing and majestic size, he named it the Bird of -Washington, a title by which it is now generally recognized. Some, -however, confound it with the White-tailed Eagle, and others affirm that -it is but a full grown Sea Eagle. With better reason it is supposed to -be either identical with the great European Sea Eagle of Brisson, or but -a variety of that bird. Audubon considers the species as rare. His -principal residence is among the rocky shores of the Mississippi, the -Missouri, and the great northern lakes—in those gloomy solitudes rarely -disturbed by the step of man. Winter drives it from these favorite -haunts nearer to the abode of civilization; and in a severe season the -Washington Eagle has been seen in the vicinity of Concord and Boston. -His principal food is fish; but instead of obtaining it in the same -piratical manner as is common with the Bald Eagle, he descends, like the -Osprey, into the same element with his prey. The circles which he -describes in flying are wider than those of the White-headed Eagle, and -when about to dive for prey, he sweeps downward in spiral rings, as -though endeavoring to prevent the fish’s escape. When within the -distance of a few yards, he darts forcibly down, and rarely fails to -secure his object. He is also remarkable for flying near the surface of -the water, especially when retiring with his prize; and when near the -shore he may often be recognized by the same peculiarity. - -The Washington Eagle is capable of being domesticated, and is then -gentle and docile. The quantity of food necessary to sustain him, either -in captivity or among his native wilds, is very great; and it would -appear that they are capable, more than most birds of prey, of -generating fat. Audubon’s specimen was three feet six inches in length, -and weighed fourteen and a half pounds. Others have been weighed, much -heavier. It should be mentioned as a curious fact, that repeated -attempts by Dr. Haywood, of Boston, to poison one of these birds with -corrosive sublimate were entirely unsuccessful, although doses of two -drams were given to it at a time. - -The general color of the upper part of this bird is copper-brown, dark -and shining. The throat and breast are a cinnamon color, the wings -brown, with sprinklings of black, and the lesser wing-coverts rusty -iron-gray. This description should, however, be received with some -caution, in consequence of its being taken from but a few specimens, -which varied considerably among themselves. The head is more convex than -that of the Bald Eagle, the bill more hooked, and the iris of the eye is -hazel, inclining to chestnut. Underneath the foot is notched like a -rasp, to enable the bird to hold its prey. The majestic appearance of -this Eagle, his great strength and superior size, justly entitle him to -a rank among the noblest birds of our continent. - - * * * * * - - - - - REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. - - - _The History of the United States of America, from the Discovery - of the Continent to the Organization of the Government under the - Federal Constitution. By Richard Hildreth. In three volumes. New - York: Harper & Brothers, vol. 1._ - -The object of Mr. Hildreth’s ambition in this work is to present an -impartial view of the persons and events of American history in their -natural order and relations, and in his preface he plumes himself on -having accomplished his purpose, at the same time not very modestly -indicating his belief that no other American historian has approached -it. As far as regards his claim to accuracy and impartiality we doubt -not it will be readily admitted, at least in the sense in which he -appears to understand the terms. The history is a useful compendium of -facts undertaken by a man who does not seem to have sufficient sympathy -with his subject to be capable even of partisanship. Everything -indicates that the work was manufactured in a spirit of dogged, -straight-forward, joyless labor. The author has in his other productions -given evidence of passions sufficiently quick and hot, and a talent for -hating almost unmatched for brilliancy and intensity, and our surprise -was correspondingly great to find him in the present work altogether -destitute of enthusiasm, and writing sentence after sentence with no -inspiration even from his blood. - -To those who require in a history nothing but a series of facts -presented in a clear style, without any animation in the narrative, the -work of Mr. Hildreth will be very acceptable, and we have little doubt -that his labors of research and composition will be rewarded. It seems -to us, however, that there is a great difference between facts as they -are in themselves, and facts as they are treated by Mr. Hildreth. -Whatever view may be taken of our fathers, there can be no doubt that -they were alive, and we have a right to demand that the narrative of -their actions, however close it may adhere to the literal truth, shall -represent living men and living events. The representation of a fact, -therefore, implies a sympathy with it either personal or imaginative, -and a capacity to convey it to another mind not only in its form and -dimensions, but in its coloring and spirit. The difficulty with Mr. -Hildreth’s facts consists in their lifelessness. He is “down among the -dead men,” not up and striving with the living, and his style being -deliberately and elaborately destitute of glow and spirit, rejecting all -ornament, and varying not with the variations of his subject, is as -uninteresting as a newspaper account of a railroad accident. In his -narrative of our history, as far as we have read it, there are strictly -speaking no events. The landing of the Pilgrims he recounts in a style -which would hardly suit an account of a New Yorker’s visit to Hoboken, -for the purpose of enjoying a cooler air than he found in the city. The -most adventurous and heroic actions, the grandest displays of -disinterested piety and affection, sink into dull commonplace as treated -by Mr. Hildreth. If this be history, then history is hardly worth the -attention of a live man. We should rather call it historical geology, -having for its subject the fossil remains of men and institutions. - -We know there is a large class of readers who consider this mode of -writing history as the best, and who are ready to stigmatize all -realization as romance. To such a class we can commend Mr. Hildreth’s -production. He certainly deserves praise for his diligence, and the -strength of understanding he has evinced in educing a connected -narrative from his multitude of scattered authorities. But he has not -succeeded even in this department of his labors to such a degree as to -justify his sneering allusion to other histories of the country as -“Continental Sermons and Fourth of July Orations in the guise of -history.” This hardly does justice to such a man as Bancroft, whose -History of the United States, whatever may be its faults, has merits of -investigation, narration and reflection, which Mr. Hildreth’s more -prosaic work does not approach. - - * * * * * - - _Dante’s Divine Comedy: The Inferno. A Literal Prose - Translation, with the Text of the Original Collated from the - Best Editions, and Explanatory Notes. By John A. Carlyle, M. D., - New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. 12mo._ - -This is a most valuable addition to the English translations of the -Italian Classics, and is well calculated to convey a vivid impression of -the intense beauty and sublimity of Dante’s immortal poem to readers -ignorant of the original. The translation is faithful even to literal -exactness without being clumsy and inelegant, and the Italian text has -been collated with commendable care and industry. Indeed the whole book -appears to have been a labor of love, and must have occupied the leisure -of many years. To those who are learning Italian the volume must be -invaluable, as it enables them to read the original side by side with a -translation at once correct and elegant. - -Dr. Carlyle, the translator, is the brother of Thomas Carlyle. One would -suppose that being so nearly related to the latter, he would sedulously -avoid all imitation of his manner, yet the preface to the present volume -is filled with the most amusing _Carlylisms_. The tone and rhetorical -contortions of his brother, Dr. Carlyle mimics rather than imitates, and -makes the whole matter more ludicrous by his evident straining after -that which on all principles of propriety he should rather attempt -strenuously to avoid. - - * * * * * - - _Scraps, No. 1. Sketched, Etched, and Published by D. C. - Johnston. Boston._ - -This thin quarto contains some fifty “hits,” humorous and satirical, -done on steel. The sketcher is D. C. Johnston, one of the first -caricaturists in the country, and an original observer of life and -manners. Several of the illustrations are pictorial essays on popular -follies and vices, and contain matter enough to supply thought for a -volume. We like the idea of publishing occasionally a work like the -present, recording as it does, with almost historical accuracy, the -various forms assumed by the Protean genius of humbug to diddle our free -and enlightened citizens. - - * * * * * - - _The Philosophy of the Beautiful. From the French of Victor - Cousin. Translated with Notes and an Introduction, by Jesse Cato - Daniel. New York: D. Bixby. 1 vol. 18mo._ - -Mr. Bixby, the publisher of this elegant little volume, has done a great -deal in his selection of books for republication for the elevation of -public taste. To him we owe the only editions we have of Goethe’s Faust, -and Correspondence of Southey’s Translation of the Chronicle of the Cid, -and of a number of other valuable works. Having removed from Lowell to -New York, we trust that he will continue his speculations on public -taste; and as an earnest of what he intends to do, we hail with much -pleasure this handsome edition of Cousin’s celebrated dissertation on -Beauty, a work written with all that accomplished philosopher’s force -and brilliancy of style, evincing his usual keenness of analysis and -range of generalization, and as readable as it is valuable. We commend -it especially to those English readers who are followers of Alison and -Jeffrey. The subject discussed is one of the most important in the -metaphysics of criticism, and though we cannot say that Cousin has -exhausted it, he has presented his own views in a rhetoric so lucid that -he cannot fail to charm even the readers whom he may not convince. - - * * * * * - - _Southey’s Commonplace Book. Edited by his Son-in-Law, John Wood - Warter, B. D. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. 8vo._ - -This volume is calculated to convey even a new idea of the variety of -Southey’s studies, and the exhaustlessness of his capacity of labor. The -number of his works is sufficiently surprising, convicting as it does -most literary men either of indolence or barrenness, but we find that in -addition to writing his original productions, he was in the custom of -transcribing largely from books as he read them, and the present volume, -representing but a portion of these labors, would appear to most readers -a work for a life. It consists of striking extracts from a large variety -of authors, most of them antiquated to the reader of the present day, -and illustrating the manners, custom, opinions, and sentiments of -Englishmen for the last three centuries. The editor, who reports himself -as Southey’s son-in-law, is an excellent specimen of a snob, who cannot -write a sentence without writing himself down an ass. The Harpers have -issued the volume in clear type, on white paper, at about one-fifth the -price of the English edition. - - * * * * * - - _A Compendium of Ecclesiastical History. By Dr. John C. L. - Gieseler. Translated from the German by Samuel Davidson, LL. D. - New York: Harper & Brothers. 2 vols. 8vo._ - -The publishers of these volumes have rarely issued a book more -intrinsically valuable than the present. It is a work of immense -research and labor, undertaken by a German Professor of Theology, and -indicating vast erudition. The translation by Dr. Davidson is a faithful -reflection of the original, even to the extent of preserving Gieseler’s -rather inelegant though condensed style of writing. The advantage of the -work to students consists in its stating results only in the text, and -reserving the notes for authorities and processes. It is a text book, -not an elaborate history like Neander’s, and as such it has obtained -great reputation for impartiality and ability. The American translator -has availed himself of the latest German edition, and his version is -accordingly the most valuable which has been made on either side of the -Atlantic. - - * * * * * - - _The Classic French Reader. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. - 12mo._ - -This is another of Appleton & Co.’s admirable series of educational -books. It consists of selections from the French classical writers for -the last two centuries, with a vocabulary of all the words and idioms -contained in the work. It is edited by Professor Jewett, the American -editor of Ollendorff, and cannot fail to render important assistance to -all engaged in the study of French. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: -Anaïs Toudouze -LE FOLLET -PARIS, Boulevart S^{t.} Martin, 61. -_Robes de Mme._ Domicile _r. de Seine S^{t.} Germain, 49—Chapeaux de_ - Maurice Beauvais _r. Richelieu_ -_Ombrelle_ Cazal _b^{t.} des Italiens, 23—Mouchoirs de_ Chapron et Dubois - _r. de la Paix, 7—Essences de Guerlain r. de la Paix, 11_ -_Chaussures de_ H. Hoffmann _r. de la Paix, 8—Fermoir de Gants pass. - Delorme, 20_. -Graham’s Magazine.] - - * * * * * - - - - - OH, LET THY LOCKS UNBRAIDED FALL. - - - WRITTEN BY - - JOHN W. WATSON. ESQ. - - MUSIC COMPOSED FOR “GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE,” BY - - JOHN A. JANKE, JR., - Professor of Music. - -[Illustration] - - Oh! let thy locks unbraided fall, - To-night no gems must check their flow, - And I will pledge thee for the ball. - What hearts will bend in homage low, - Yes, - -[Illustration] - - lower far than though they held - The fabled wealth of Indies’ main - Or were Golconda’s mines compelled - To yield their brilliant train—— - - Thus did they fall when first I saw - What since has made me dream by day, - And thus when I in triumph bore - That one loved, straggling tress away. - Then do not bind with gems or gold, - Its dark, voluptuous, rolling swell, - But let those folds lie uncontrolled - I’ve learned to love so well. - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Punctuation has -been corrected without note. Other errors have been corrected as noted -below. For illustrations, some caption text may be missing or incomplete -due to condition of the originals used for preparation of the eBook. - -page 134, whist the broad ==> whilst the broad -page 135, loadstone of all eyes, ==> lodestone of all eyes, -page 135, of the rael grit ==> of the real grit -page 135, several pedlars had ==> several pedlers had -page 138, the inspecter, having ==> the inspector, having -page 139, with a blithsome ==> with a blithesome -page 142, the cheeerful hearth ==> the cheerful hearth -page 150, her trelliced window ==> her trellised window -page 151, bourne were we must ==> bourne where we must -page 153, chords that bound ==> cords that bound -page 154, all thoughless did begin ==> all thoughtless did begin -page 156, Carroling like free-born ==> Caroling like free-born -page 160, room where their is a ==> room where there is a -page 162, the unenlighted classes at ==> the unenlightened classes at -page 164, pardon my degression, ==> pardon my digression, -page 165, of N. aristrocracy who ==> of N. aristocracy who -page 167, and was the only ==> and it was the only -page 168, Do you hear my my boast ==> Do you hear my boast -page 169, ribbonds and roses; ==> ribbons and roses; -page 171, impertinent listner,” she ==> impertinent listener,” she -page 173, creaturs while I am ==> creatures while I am -page 179, trosach, dell and valley, ==> trossach, dell and valley, -page 180, a clump of hazles ==> a clump of hazels -page 182, in the _cortégé_, I ==> in the _cortège_, I -page 183, solace to our lonelienss; ==> solace to our loneliness; -page 184, of the swoln heart rise ==> of the swollen heart rise -page 185, be one of unparalelled ==> be one of unparalleled -page 189, corn and beach-nuts, ==> corn and beech-nuts, - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXV, No. 3, -September 1849, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, SEPTEMBER 1849 *** - -***** This file should be named 55380-0.txt or 55380-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/3/8/55380/ - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from -page images generously made available by Google Books - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXV, No. 3, September 1849 - -Author: Various - -Editor: George R. Graham - J. R. Chandler - J. B. Taylor - -Release Date: August 18, 2017 [EBook #55380] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, SEPTEMBER 1849 *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from -page images generously made available by Google Books - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:375px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XXXV.</span> September, 1849. No. 3.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>Table of Contents</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>Fiction, Literature and Other Articles</p> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 25em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#gen'>General Training</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#jasper'>Jasper St. Aubyn</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#sket'>Sketches of Life in Our Village</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#legend'>Legend of the Introduction of Death,</a> and Origin of the Medicine Worship Among the Ogibwas</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#love'>Love Tests of Halloween</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#jess'>Jessie Lincoln</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#birds'>Colored Birds.—The Bullfinch.</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#story'>A Traveler’s Story</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#path'>The Two Paths</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#wild'>Wild-Birds of America</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#books'>Review of New Books</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -</table> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>Poetry, Music, and Fashion</p> - -<table id='tab2' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 25em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#lily'>To the Lily of the Valley</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#good'>“Good-Night.”</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#span'>The Spanish Maiden</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#angel'>The Angel’s Visit</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#lily2'>Lily Leslie</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#toa'>To a Portrait</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#odal'>The Odalisque</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#inez'>To Inez.—At Florence.</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#comm'>Communion of the Sea and Sky</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#time'>Time and Change</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#heart'>Woman’s Heart:—A Sonnet.</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#rain'>The Rain</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#follet'>Le Follet</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#ohlet'>Oh, Let Thy Locks Unbraided Fall</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle1'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#notes'>Transcriber’s Notes</a> can be found at the end of this eBook.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i001.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:425px;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>NO ROSE WITHOUT A THORN.</span><br/> <br/><span style='font-size:smaller'>Engraved and Printed expressly for Graham’s Magazine by J. M. Butler.</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol.</span> XXXV. PHILADELPHIA, SEPTEMBER, 1849. <span class='sc'>No. 3.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk102'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='133' id='Page_133'></span><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='gen'></a>GENERAL TRAINING.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY ALFRED B. STREET.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were three events which we used to look -forward to at the approach of summer with a great -deal of interest. These were the Fourth of July, -General Training and Camp Meeting. The denizens -of a city can hardly understand the pleasure with -which the inhabitants of a secluded village hail any -thing out of the usual quiet routine of existence. Consequently -they would be likely to stare at the very -idea of any one who was old enough to drive fast trotters, -attend cock-fights, shoot balls over billiard-tables, -and dance the polka, attaching any importance to such -ordinary if not “decidedly vulgar” matters. But with -all due deference to the dandies, I must still reiterate -that we thought these three things of much consequence, -and entitled to the place of events in our -simple village calendar. The Fourth of July was a -great affair, inasmuch as it was not only great in itself, -but it opened as it were the gates of the decided summer, -letting in upon us those long delicious hours -when the sun’s eye begins to glance through its cloud -lashes at three in the morning, and shoots up its light -to wink and glimmer until nine in the evening. Camp -Meeting was also very important—inherently of course—and -also as coming as it did in October, it shut those -same summer portals, and reminded us of the occasional -pretence of Jack Frost, that jackall of winter, -who comes prowling amidst our gardens some time -before the stern roar of the old lion is heard. But -General Training occurring in August, sandwiched -between the two—the summit-level, so to speak, of the -season—the acme—the apex—was, on the whole, the -greatest event of the three. It was coupled with nothing -else, either as herald of bright days, or reminder -that those days were past. It had neither the brilliance -of hope nor the fragrance of memory. It was therefore -self-sustained—it shone by its own light. And -full of the elements of enjoyment was it. So much -bustle and noise—such rattle-te-bang topsy-turvy -scenes—such unloosing of the elements of fun—such -odd admixtures and jumblings together of objects, all -broadly picturesque and ludicrous, did the day present, -that no wonder it created such a sensation in our -usually quiet and well behaved village.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the contrast last hinted at constituted one of its -charms to me, I will commence by sketching the appearance -of the village the evening before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We will suppose the time to be about six o’clock, -P. M. in the last week of August. The sun is about -an hour and a half high, and is beginning to throw out -rays of the richest and at the same time the softest -splendor. A broad beam, like a golden vista, strikes -Rumsey’s house on the hill right along the toes, thence, -darting a blow athwart the breast of Fairchild’s domicil, -it hits St. John’s store right in the abdomen, and -then sinks down the slope of the street. This is on -one side of the village. On the other, a second beam -comes along in a sort of stealthy, zigzag manner, being -broken by a row of trees, until, blazes! it pitches into -the two lower eyes of Coit’s dingy edifice so violently -as to make them flash again. After this feat, it laughs -along the verge of the village green, making it wear -an edging of gold, and then paints the black picture of -the mail-coach before Hamble’s door in such grotesque -proportions as to send the head of one horse poking -into the middle of the street, and his tail streaming -into Cady’s store. And not only this, but the beam -sketches the figure of Hamble himself coming from -“Saint’s store,” with a bottle of “sour wine” for his -bar, in one hand, and a white pitcher brimming with -the cool nectar from the “corner well” in the other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Would you believe it? these were the only objects -visible in the street. How all the inhabitants had contrived -to withhold themselves from sight in this mellow -sunset I cannot imagine. But such was the fact. -The houses stood protruding their noses of porches at -those opposite, and peering into one another’s eyes, -with their dark wigs cutting against the soft amber -sky—the trees were whispering soft things to one another -in a gentle breeze stirring, each one moving its -thousand lips so delicately that the sunlight which was -kissing them seemed trembling with rapture—in short, -an air of quiet solitude brooded over the whole place.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='134' id='Page_134'></span> -By and by the quick rattle of wheels struck upon -my ear, and looking in the direction of the sound, -I saw a two-horse wagon coming furiously down the -street with a collection of white, red, and black plumes, -with bayonets and gun-barrels glistening above, and -a great blue standard fluttering over the whole. A -strain of martial music simultaneously struck up from -amongst the warlike array, which array to my nearer -vision, resolved itself into a dozen men, “armed and -equipped as the law directs,” including a fifer, who -was lengthening his visage into a puckered whistle -upon his little yellow tube, a drummer, who was entangling -his sticks in the loudest manner on the sounding -sheep-skin, and a bass-drum player, who had hung -his huge instrument, like a great barrel, at the end of -the wagon, and who, being a little the worse for liquor, -(shown by constant lurches,) came down upon the -quivering circles each side with prodigious vigor at -precisely the wrong times, thereby breaking up and -almost overpowering the tune by an irregular succession -of boom—boom—boom-boom-booms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the wagon pulled up with an emphasis at Wiggins’s, -three huzzas rent the air from the occupants, -a dozen shots, in which were mingled the round, deep -tone of the musket, and the short, peevish crack of -the ride succeeded—and the “sodgers” bounded upon -the stoop, streamed into the bar-room, calling for -“liquor,” and lo! the “premonitory symptoms” of -General Training.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After this temporary ripple in the current, the village -again settled down into its customary quiet. The sun -disappeared—the golden glow crept up the western -sky as if to greet the “hunter’s moon,” that looked in -the sweet twilight like an orb of pearl, becoming, however, -momentarily brighter, like the hope of a holy -heart as the night of the grave approaches. And soon -the gold was chased down by the silver, and the beautiful -moonlight lay as if it was tangible sleep upon the -village.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About ten o’clock I took one of my solitary walks -along the single street. Nothing could be more silent -and solitary. The soft yet splendid sheen streamed -down upon the roof, and whilst the dwellings upon -one side of the spacious thoroughfare were bathed in -lovely light, those opposite were lying in the deepest -blackness. The tricks of the moonlight were various. -The old weather streaked Court-House looked as white -and new as the smart Presbyterian “Meeting-House” -just erected, whilst its belfry (so open that it seemed -as if it would ring its own bell when the wind blew) -cocked itself up with a pert air, like the upturned nose -of a conceited man, and the red pimple of a clerk’s -office between both Court and Meeting-House, looked -redder than ever. Hamble’s rough stone wall was -sleeked over very prettily, sending out from its summit -gleams of light like silver flashes—the white chips -about his wood-shed were like patches of snow—the -shadow of a log, with an axe struck into it, seemed -like a black pump lying prostrate—the shrubbery in -the little enclosure along the side of the tavern, sparkled -out into a million of eyes—the sign, with the red coach -upon it, going so fast that its wheels were nothing but -spokes, and the horses so fierce that they were galloping -right up into the air, looked bright as a new button, -<a id='whilst'></a>whilst the broad village green seemed like an expanse -of (if I may use the expression) solidified light. I -turned to pursue my walk. The fluted pillars of St. -John’s store looked “good enough to eat,” as a rather -matter-of-fact girl once observed to me in a moonlight -walk, and the “corner well,” with its long arm of a -pole reared over its head, and its bucket tucked down -at its front, seemed as if it had just drank and had put -down its glass. I still made my way up the street. -Not a single person abroad, not a light to be seen—it -appeared as if the whole village had grown out, as it -were, of the quiet and beautiful light that lay so broadly -upon it. Tired at last of being the only watcher in -the silent village, I retraced my steps, and (to speak -vulgarly) “went to bed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was awakened by martial music in full blast. I -dressed myself and sallied out. A broad beam of the -newly risen sun had settled like a yellow pool just in -front of Wiggins’s tavern, and standing within it, were -the three worthies who had awakened the Monticello -echoes the evening before with their music from the -wagon. The fifer was again spitting his breath most -industriously into his “whistle,” as the boys called it, -and keeping time with his foot, the drummer, who had -a way of looking down upon his drum, and working -his mouth to the motion of his sticks, was sending out -his rattling tones by his side, and facing the two, with his -shoulders drawn back, and supporting his instrument -on his breast, the bass-drummer was bringing down -his leathered knobs this time to the music, (he had -only had two morning bitters, so Wiggins said,) but -with such a terrific noise as to make even himself -wince at every stroke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was quite a collection of men around the -“musicianers;” several with brown cartridge-boxes -and bayonet-sheaths, and one or two with gilt eagles -in their hats, and plumes of white feathers, whilst one -fellow was equipped with an old straw hat, the rim of -which was shorn away at his forehead—a red flannel -shirt, linsey-woolsey pantaloons, and a long, heavy -rifle on his shoulder. This genius was fairly wrapped -up in the music. He was evidently enchanted. Now -he would listen with his mouth wide open, then he -would look around the group and nod, as if to say, -“<span class='it'>isn’t</span> that fine!” and then he would give birth to -laughter, as though he couldn’t restrain himself any -longer for the life of him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Interspersed amidst this group were many of the -village boys, edging their way at every practicable -point nearer the musicians. One youngster, ragged as -a saw, had succeeded in placing himself by the tenor -drum, and was looking at the double performance of -mouth and sticks, with the greatest admiration, whilst -another, with open elbows and slouched hat, which -was only prevented by a bulge in front from sliding -entirely over his dirty face, was peering up into the -twitching countenance of the bass-drummer, standing -the thunder of the blows with all the nonchalance of a -real veteran.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My attention was now, however, attracted toward -the genius with the rifle, by his giving birth to a loud -shout. Inflamed beyond bounds by the music which -<span class='pageno' title='135' id='Page_135'></span> -was now on a rattling quick-step, the red flanneled gentleman -now made a spring in the air, and then dashed -out into a “heel and toe” dance, flourishing his rifle as -if it had been a walking-stick, now over his head, and -now on each side of him, and making every thing -fairly echo with his loud and frequent whoops. He -at length became the <a id='lode'></a>lodestone of all eyes, except those -of the musicians, fairly driving these worthies in the -most ungrateful manner (they being the source of his -inspiration) into the shade; becoming, as it were, the -centre of a circle of grinning faces, until completely -tired out with his exertions, he broke away, ascended -the tavern stoop, and the next moment made the bar-room -ring with his vociferation for “a small pull of -some of the <a id='real'></a>real grit!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By and by the “trainers” began to appear at all -points, some in groups, some singly, some by wagon -loads. And one wagon came in so filled with bristling -muskets, that it had the appearance of a huge steel -porcupine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The population of the surrounding country, men, -women and children, commenced streaming in to gaze -upon “the show,” and make merry amongst themselves. -A number also of the surrounding farmers and -their wives came as venders of pies, cake, small beer, -cider, etc., turning their wagons into shops, wheeling -them under the shadows of the trees, detaching the -horses, flinging at the same time quantities of hay before -them, and covering the seats of the wagons with -cards of yellow gingerbread, mingled with pies, carved -generally into quarters, and cider barrels at the ends, -with faucets resembling hooked noses. Others again -had erected booths of rough boards or hemlock boughs -filled with articles of consumption. I looked at one -for a few moments which Aunt Betsy Lossing had (as -usual) erected.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was composed of hemlock boards, with branches -of the same tree. A rude counter had been placed -athwart the entrance, behind which appeared Betsy’s -red face and burly form, together with a boy and girl -as assistants. Upon shelves were rows of casks lettered -gin, brandy, whisky, etc.; on the highest shelf were -two or three boxes of cigars, a dozen thick glass -tumblers, and a small box of lemons, whilst below all, -two barrels of cider (probably) looked out dimly from -the shadow. The sunshine streamed richly in, lighting -the lemons brilliantly, giving to the cigars a warm -tint of brown, flashing upon the gilt letters of the -casks, dancing on the glasses, and only failing to -penetrate the recess where the barrels lay on their -stomachs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still did the soldiery and country people stream in. -By this time several <a id='ped'></a>pedlers had established their box -wagons upon the grassy margins of the broad village -street, and were as clamorous in their vocations as -crows around a carrion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The village was now a scene of active, noisy, bustling -life. I amused myself for a short time by examining -in detail the human current that flowed past my office -steps. Now passed a pair of country lovers, the girl -in the act of biting off a huge piece of mince pie, -whilst the “he” was industriously engaged in puffing -at a great black cigar, giving his rosy-cheeked sweetheart -the benefit of the smoke gratis. Next a -little rustic maiden alone, all beflowered and beribboned -like a walking milliner shop; then a young woodsman, -who had scarcely ever emerged from the forest before, -but who had “left the saw-mill to-day to go a trainen,” -sauntered past with his rusty old musket (which doubtless -did service at Minisink in “granddaddy’s” hands) -horizontal upon his shoulder; then a rough-looking -check-shirted hunter, with his rifle in his grasp, and -then a bumpkin from “Strong’s Settlement,” with -his hands deep in his pockets, his “limpsey” hat upon -one side of his head, minus half the crown and the -whole of the rim, and opening his gray eyes so wide -as fairly to pull his mouth open.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Succeeding this interesting specimen of humanity, -minced along a youthful, undersized soldier, in an old -blue artillery coat, made in the Revolution, the red-striped -skirts striking his heels, the breast down to his -hips, and the sleeves tucked up nearly to the elbows; -and next strode a brawny hero, who crowded -himself into a gray cavalry jacket, with its shadow of -a skirt cocked up behind like the brush of a deer, and -the breasts shrinking away nearly under his arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I say there, hadn’t you two fellers better swap?” -shouted a pedler from his box as the twain passed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Darn me,” added he, in an under tone, as they went -regardless along, “if one of them are chaps don’t look -loose enuff to run out of his coat like this ere old -woman’s cider, whilst that are other crittur is screwed -up so tight that he’ll sartenly bust up afore long. -However it’s their business, not mine. <span class='sc'>Here’s</span> a -lot of fine spoons! no Garman silver about <span class='it'>them</span>. Come, -roll up, tumble up, any way to get up—come, give us -a bid!” etc. etc.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The rolling of drums now announced that the time -for the mustering of the different companies composing -the regiment (the bloody 185th) had arrived. Lines of soldiers -were soon seen scattered along the street, and the -loud voices of the sergeants calling the roll were heard. -There were two uniform companies attached to the -regiment, beside “the troop,” or light-horse company, -viz., the artillery and rifle. The dress of the former -was a blue jacket, with red tufts on the shoulders, and -caps with red tufts in front, whilst that of the latter -was a green hunting shirt fringed with black, with -black plumes in their hats. The cavalry company -were dressed in red coats faced and cuffed with black -velvet. The rest of the regiment were clothed, some -in odd uniforms, others in their every-day clothing, and -presented a strange and motley array of colors and accoutrements.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The preliminaries being gone through, the arduous -duty of forming the companies into line was now to -be accomplished. A great stir was at this instant -discernible amongst the crowd before Wiggins’s steps, -and shortly I observed the figures of several officers -waving and glittering with feathers and tinsel rising -above the surface of heads as they mounted their -prancing steeds. Spurring them through the throng, -they succeeded after a while in clearing a long space -and extending the breadth of the village street. The -word was then given to form the line, and amidst the -loud orders of the officers I could see the different -<span class='pageno' title='136' id='Page_136'></span> -squads arranging themselves into marching order. A -few minutes elapsed, and then arose a din sufficient to -drive one crazy, and yet of the most ludicrous character. -Each company was furnished with its own drum and -fife, and, in some instances, bass-drum and cymbals. -The three or four companies near me commenced -marching in columns at nearly the same moment, their -respective bands striking up at the same time, each -playing its own tune. The effect was laughable in the -highest degree. “Hail Columbia” had its slow heels -tripped up completely by the <span class='it'>pirouettes</span> of “Yankee -Doodle;” the “Girl I Left Behind Me” and “Miller’s -Quick Step,” locked themselves together in a perfect -wrestling match, first one down, then the other—now -a bar struggling convulsively, then a strain nearly -throttled; then high and low notes, tug and tug, heard -alternately, the whole at last mingling itself up into the -strangest entanglement possible—a maelstrom, so to -speak, of whirling music. A bass-drum would thunder -down, breaking the back at a stroke of a long roll proceeding -from a tenor one near by, whilst another of -the latter species would rub-a-dub right into a pair of -cymbals, and scatter their silver clashings into an -entire route. New tunes would be constantly arriving -as the distant companies came marching up to give -fresh life to the wrangling discord, whilst to add to the -uproar, the whole pack of pedlers, amounting to nearly -a dozen, had given tongue at the first hurly-burly of -the music, bursting out, as it were, in full cry. “<span class='it'>Here’s</span> -your fine penknives, all a going at onst,” shouted a tall, -ram-rod looking fellow, with a knob of a hat, and a nose -that seemed stretching out on purpose to scent a good -bargain. “Walk up, ladies and gentlemen,” bawled -another, with a white broad-brim so weak and slouchy -as to look as if about to faint away off his head. -“How much for this splendid necklace!” yelled another, -in a higher key, with the rim of his beaver -cocked fiercely in front, and with a patch in the back -of his coat, as though he had an eye there to look after -his articles in that direction. “Come, gentlemen, can’t -wait, onst, twice! wont you say sixpence more!” said -a fourth, sinking from a shout gradually down to a -coaxing whine, whilst a fifth, with straight, black hair -and saturnine complexion, giving him quite a sanctimonious -look, let his tongue run on in chase of “a -penny, a penny, a penny, a penny,” with the perseverance -of a bloodhound.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Elevated on one of the wagons was a member of -the light-horse company. He had taken the post as a -matter of joke, and was now holding up the different -articles for sale with a merry smile on his face, and -every now and then winking to the crowd as if to remind -them what a capital jest his being there was. -The pedler himself in the meanwhile, with an apple -of a face perched upon a bean-pole of a form, was with -great <span class='it'>nonchalance</span> seated upon his box, evidently -quite content that the light-horseman should do the -work, and he sit by and receive the profits. So exciting -and pleasant did the soldier find his self-imposed -task, so elated by the possession of this new accomplishment, -which had remained undeveloped even to -himself until now, and so intoxicated with the flattery -which the laughter of the throng at his jokes offered, -that he continued there all day, incurring a fine for -non-attendance at the parade.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the next “General Training” I saw the same -fellow. Turned topsy-turvy by his success, he had -abandoned his farm and “took to peddlen” on his own -hook. But what a difference. Interested now in the -occupation personally, and having the “keenest sort” -of an eye to the profits, his selling was no longer a joke. -The merry glance was replaced by a look of care, his -dashing, off-hand manner was exchanged for an eager, -beseeching air, his jokes were few and evidently -forced; in short, in making his amusement his trade, -he had made himself a very poor pedler.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What became of him I don’t know, but I heard -casually once that he had after a while betaken himself -again to his little farm, (which he had mortgaged -to obtain his fitting out as a pedler,) quite broken-spirited -and out at elbows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Foremost in the tempest of martial music, towering, -as it were, the very genius of the scene, was Joe -Lippett. Joe was a capital hand at a fife, his long chin -serving as a resting-place for the instrument. He was -therefore engaged to play for half a dozen companies. -It was a sight to see him. Marching forward with -immense strides, his puckered lips and promontory-like -chin forming a deep nook into which his fife was -thrust, he sent forth his piercing notes like a north-wester. -After escorting a company “into line,” he -would vanish, and in a minute would be seen at the -head of another, blowing away like Tophet, and after -performing the same service to it, <span class='it'>presto!</span> his shrill -music would be heard, and his legs and chin seen -coming from a different quarter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At last, after great exertions, involving vast displays -of horsemanship, and large, particularly guttural, words -of command, continual risings in their stirrups, and -occasional looks of deep ferocity, the junior officers of -the day succeeded in getting the regiment into line, as -it is called in military parlance, but in fact into a curve, -as the middle sagged a good deal inward. Still it presented -something of a front, and along it the young -officers went into violent spasms of dexterous riding, -spurring their horses and curbing them tightly at the -same time, thus causing them to advance backward, as -it were, and perform feats with their hoofs, somewhat -dangerous to the pie-eating and cider-drinking spectators.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length I discovered the cause of this great display -by the youthful gods of war, by happening to observe -them glancing at the windows opposite, where I discovered -their dulcineas looking at the whole affair -with immense interest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was amusing to note the various aspects of the -soldiers composing the line. One had a nose like a -triangle, another as if an oblong piece of dough had -hit him in the face, and had clung there; the next had -a little pair of eyes flying about as if anxious to hide -away in their sockets, whilst the next appeared so determined -to stare with his great goggle eyes that he -seemed to suppose to wink would be time wasted. -Here was a mouth with the corners turned up into a -sculptured grin; there was another turned down, as if -with a perpetual colic. Here were cheeks rounded -<span class='pageno' title='137' id='Page_137'></span> -out as if blowing a trumpet, whilst there were others so -fallen in, that they seemed glued to their side teeth. In -short, there was no end to the differences in the physiognomies -of the “citizen soldiery,” as that patriotic -and intellectual portion of our people, the politicians, -(those particularly who wish to go to the “legislater,”) -term them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A file of men was now detached for the standard of -the regiment—a great blue thing, as large nearly as a -ship’s top-sail. The men were paraded in front of the -tavern steps—the standard appeared on the stoop—a -flourish of drum and fife—the standard waved, then -descended, and borne by little Billy Waddle, went -gayly to its appointed place under the inspiriting influence -of a favorite quick step.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The reception of the colonel was now also gone -through, and he rode in very stiff dignity, with his legs -sticking out on each side of his steed, very much like -a pair of open compasses, toward the line, with his -peacock tail of a staff trailing behind him. Taking, -then, his station, with his horse (tickled constantly by -the spur) making uneasy motions, as if itching all over, -he gave utterance to a few shouts, made hoarse for -the occasion, which were followed by convulsions of -carrying, presenting, and supporting arms, on the part -of the soldiers, some together, and some not, just as it -happened. Preparations were then made for the -march to the village-green, where the exercises of the -day were to take place. The music was all collected -in front, and the order was given to wheel into platoons. -Each man performed this manœuvre at his own time -and “on his own responsibility,” and consequently -such a fluttering took place as to throw the whole -scene into confusion. The feat was, however, at last -performed, the drums began to mark time—the men -ditto, (after a fashion,) and the order from the colonel -was, “by platoons, march!” the last word uttered -with most tremendous emphasis. The order was -taken up and sent along from company to company in -every variety of tone, from a growl to a squeak, -ending at last like a faint echo at the extremity of the -array. The whole regiment then moved, the drums -still keeping up their preliminary tapping. At length -the music burst out into a terrific explosion of sound, -and onward marched the martial pageant. The sight -was ludicrous enough. Some had started with -the right foot foremost, and were entangling their -legs in the most unjustifiable way, with those of their -neighbors, endeavoring to change to the left foot; -some, owing to the extreme tightness of their belts, -(these were principally in the uniform companies,) -hitched along as if their hips went on rusty hinges, and -others, owing either to the want of a musical ear, or -recklessness, sauntered along in their natural gait, -which didn’t happen to suit the air, and consequently -carried disorder along the whole rank. In the former -class was a little irascible-looking fellow, who, starting -the wrong way and endeavoring to get right, and who -being met in his efforts at precisely the wrong times -by a lank genius next him, kept hopping testily from -one foot to the other, whilst his companion did the -same at alternate moments, until the legs of both went -backward and forward like a quick cat’s-cradle. On -swept the array, the colonel looking sterner than forty -Napoleons on a field of battle. Conspicuous in the -front rank of “the music” was Joe Lippett, chinning -his fife, whilst amidst a row of drums came my friend -with the red feather, working his mouth in the most -emphatic manner, and looking down upon his instrument -as if he thought that the withdrawal of his eyes -would cause an instant paralysis of his sticks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then followed the artillery and rifle companies, and -in the midst of the regiment, who should appear but -little Billy Waddle, staggering up under the enormous -regimental standard. Billy, in being the bearer of the -silken honor, had allowed his ambition to run away -with his discretion. He was evidently supplying his -strength from the very depths of his despair, humoring -in a variety of ways the blue flaunting tyrant which -held him completely under control, bracing against its -frequent lurches with efforts that made him grin like a -death’s-head, and struggling up convulsively as it -plunged downward with pitchings and totterings worthy -an animal afflicted with the blind staggers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With wonderful efforts, however, he continued to -keep the flag somewhat in order, until he arrived opposite -my office. A beautiful basswood was growing -there, on the outer verge of the side-walk, and spreading -its broad branches considerably over the street. -The regiment swept underneath these branches in its -progress upward to the village-green. Billy saw the -impediment and lowered his standard. He did it, -however, with such quick effort, that he lost all control -over its descending weight, which pitched the -luckless manikin forward so irresistibly that the steel -points of the staff struck with somewhat of an emphasis -right into the calf of Jim Thompson’s leg, who happened -to be marching directly before. Never shall I -forget Jim’s hop on the occasion, or the terrified look -he cast backward. It appeared as if he thought that -the rear rank had suddenly taken it into their heads to -charge bayonet upon those in front, and that he was -to be the first victim. But his look changed as he -perceived the cause, and the glance of contempt and -vexation which he shot at poor Billy, as he commenced -limping along rubbing the offended part, was -ludicrous in the extreme.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The regiment now arrived at the green, where it -was to be inspected. The Inspector was an imperturbable, -square-built Dutchman, bestriding a horse -as imperturbable and donkey-like as himself. He -now appeared upon the ground, as the regiment, -after performing half the circuit of the green, was -halted in the order it had marched.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dismounting, the inspector gravely commenced his -task. Moving from man to man, he examined the -musket and other accoutrements of each, the inspected -bringing his piece to a present with a quick jerk as the -inspector presented himself, and the latter trying the -lock with a sharp click, and making the ramrod jump -with a keen jingle in the barrel. Occasionally, some -piece, loaded by its wag of an owner, would explode -with a loud report as the inspector drew trigger, followed -by a great snickering and chuckling on the part -of those near by, but the inspector never relaxed -his heavy muscles for a moment. Thus he went from -<span class='pageno' title='138' id='Page_138'></span> -man to man, and rank to rank, until the whole process -was completed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the meanwhile the music had gathered in a cluster -at a little distance, surrounded by the boys and -“loafers” of the village. Now and then the muffled -sound of a tattoo, beat upon the cords of the drum, arose, -with the comic squeak of a fife accompanied by loud -laughter from the idlers around, and sometimes a single -“boom” from a blow upon the bass-drum.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the <a id='inspec'></a>inspector, having left his last man, the word -“attention the whole,” was loudly sounded, and the -scene was changed in an instant. Those who had -been lounging “at ease” upon their guns, stood erect -and soldier-like—those seated upon the grass sprung -to their places—the band hurried to its station at the -head, and, in a short time the whole regiment was in -marching order.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The time had now arrived to pass in review before -the colonel. With his staff upon either hand, that redoubtable -hero had now stationed himself at the head -of the green for the regiment to march past him. The -command of “march” was given, the music struck -up, and the regiment moved. Playing most obstreperously, -the band passed the colonel, who sat, chapeau -in hand, and then fell upon one side. The sight now -became comic. The officers as they approached, prepared -with great solemnity and very apparent consciousness -of the importance of the manœuvre, to -salute with their swords the puissant presence of the -commandant, and the “rank and file” to perform the -same ceremony with their presented guns. The first -officer, who was a captain from the wilds of Lumberland, -was so taken up by the immensity of the act he -was to perform, that he forgot to perform it at all until -quite past the colonel. Remembering himself then, in -his nervous hurry, he brought his sword up so quickly -to his face that he knocked his hat off, and stooping to -recover it, he received such an impetus from his front -rank, who were too intent upon their part of the performance -to see any thing, that he was pitched without -ceremony, in the most headlong and sprawling manner, -after his hat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next officer was but a little more fortunate. -He had witnessed the performance of his predecessor, -and being nervous, was thrown into a considerable -flurry thereby. Determined not to be caught in the -predicament of delaying his manœuvre, he went to the -opposite extreme. Miscalculating his time in his -agitation, and seeing the colonel’s eye fixed upon him, -he, some distance before he reached that functionary, -brought his sword up with a great flourish, and saluted. -By the time he reached the colonel, his part was, of -course, performed, and the air of sneaking and deprecating -consciousness with which he slunk past was so -marked, as to cause a smile even upon the grim features -of the commandant himself. After this, things -went on pretty well, until a tall, awkward, rawboned -lieutenant, who “tended saw-mill for a liven” on the -Sheldrake Brook, approached the colonel. Fixing his -eyes on his officer, he thrust his sword out horizontally, -as if to charge bayonet. Not seeing where he was -going, so intent was he upon his staring, that, meeting -with some obstruction, he stumbled, pitched forward, -and before he could recover himself, he had run his -sword half way into the soft turf of the green, with -the hilt striking against his breast with an emphasis -that made him gasp like a frog in an exhausting receiver. -He was the last officer, and with this interesting -exhibition of soldierly grace and dignity, the -ceremony closed. The colonel clapped his chapeau on -his head, and, attended by his staff, once more took -his place in the regiment, and, after a short march, the -order was given to form a “hollow square,” for -prayer and a speech from the judge advocate. After -considerable trouble the square was formed, with all the -officers in the middle. The prayer was offered by -the “learned and pious” Dr. Stubbornthought, and at -the conclusion, the colonel proclaimed, in a pompous -tone, that the judge advocate would now commence -his address. Instantly this functionary spurred from -the side of his superior to perform this duty. He was -an ambitious young sprig of the law, always on the -look-out for distinction, and seeking where he could -make a speech turn up with all the keenness and avidity -of a hound on the track of a deer. He was withal -very irascible. With his usual ambition, he had now -selected the most fiery and run-away steed in the -village, being convinced that he was as good a horseman -as he was a speaker, and that, let me tell you, is -saying a great deal. Direct upon his announcement, as -before observed, he made his way in the midst of the -square, and endeavored to settle himself in his saddle -to commence his address. But this was more difficult -than he imagined. Having given a severer dig with his -spur into the side of his animal than the latter bargained -for or relished, it began to testify its anger by a series -of prancings and curvettings decidedly more ornamental -than either useful or agreeable. Grasping his bridle, -however, firmly, and knowing that delay in endeavoring -to soothe his horse might ruin his speech, the -youngster, after giving birth to a loud preliminary -h-e-m, commenced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fellow-soldiers, (whoe, Jim,) I appear before ye, -(whoe, I say,) on this occasion to address you briefly -upon the duties of the citizen soldiery of our country. -The duty of defending our homes and firesides, (whoe, -whoe, you brute you,) our homes and firesides, (whoe, -you rascal,) homes and, (well, I never saw such a -devilish creature in my life, whoe, I say,) homes and -firesides is a paramount duty. Who—would—evade—it! -Who—wou-wou-wou-wou-would, (whoe, whoe, -who-o-o-e—you most infernal of all devils,) who would -sh-sh-sh-shun or fly”—here the question bolted out at -broken intervals, occasioned by the thumping in his -saddle from the prancing of his excited horse, was to -the great horror of the square, answered practically -by the questioner himself. If no body else would fly -he, or rather his steed, showed that he would. Giving -a tremendous leap, Spitfire (the horse’s name, and a -capital one, too,) broke through an opening in the -square and “rattle-te-clatter,” (as Loafing Joe, in describing -the scene afterward to a knot of the village -young men in Wiggins’s bar-room said,) “the way he -streaked it over the green, was nothen to nobody’s -folks. He went like a shot from a shovel past Old -Cheese’s as if he was a goen to pitch right into John -<span class='pageno' title='139' id='Page_139'></span> -P.’s donyard. But old Spitfire catty-cornered round so -quick that “little Blackberry” (the rider’s nickname -in the village, from his dark complexion,) swung sideways -like old Lummocks when he’s slewed, and then, -Lordjersees Massies, if he didn’t slap it down the -turnpike in a hurry, with little Blackberry a hold of the -mane, and a grinning like a wild-cat, you may say to -my face that I’m a liar, that’s all. Howsever, Spitfire -couldn’t git past Wiggins’s, no how you can fix it, -for he’s eat too many oats there, so he gives another -sheer so that little Blackberry’s right leg stuck out like -a pump-handle, and bolt he went under the shed, and -brought up all standen. Little Blackberry pitched -into the manger, and the hoss began to eat hay as if -nothen had been the matter, and that, boys, is the eend -on’t. Who’s a goen to treat!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the meanwhile, the regiment had been again -arranged in marching order, and with a <a id='blithe'></a>blithesome -quickstep, had left the green, swept up the little village -to its outskirts, and then turning, was now on its way -back to its starting place before Wiggins’s tavern-porch. -A cloud of dust gave token to those at the -porch that the martial show was approaching. The -piercing fife—the rub-a-dub of the drum—and the deep -blows of the bass-drum, were next heard; the arms -broke glistening from the dusty cloud—down came the -column with its hasty tread, and fronted before the -tavern in one long line. After a few words of command, -the magic words, “you’re dismissed,” sounded -upon the air, and with a wild hurrah, the ranks broke -into scrambling confusion, and “General Training” -was ended. Wagon after wagon filled with the -soldiery, rattled away; throng after throng of those -on foot hurried off by the numerous roads leading into -the adjacent country, and at sunset, the village had -once more relapsed into its customary quiet. So have -we seen a pool, shaken by a breeze, tossing its waters -in confusion, and then calming itself into its usual -tranquillity, uniting the scattered fragments of rock, -tree and sky, again into the soft, reflected picture of its -quiet and beautiful mirror.</p> - -<hr class='tbk103'/> - -<div><h1><a id='lily'></a>TO THE LILY OF THE VALLEY.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY PROFESSOR CAMPBELL.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>      Sweet little flower,</p> -<p class='line0'>That hang’st thy fair and modest head</p> -<p class='line0'>      Beneath the shower,</p> -<p class='line0'>And bendest o’er thy parent bed,</p> -<p class='line0'>As mourning for thy sisters dead—</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh! smile again—the storm has fled.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>      Ah! who could break</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy tender stem, so very fair,</p> -<p class='line0'>      So very weak—</p> -<p class='line0'>To deck his breast, to perish there,</p> -<p class='line0'>Beneath the coldly piercing air,</p> -<p class='line0'>Of harsh neglect, regret, despair?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>      Nay, droop not so—</p> -<p class='line0'>No ruthless hand shall touch thee here—</p> -<p class='line0'>      No, gentlest, no—</p> -<p class='line0'>I’ll hide thee where, devoid of fear,</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou’lt bloom, to one lone heart most dear,</p> -<p class='line0'>Nor ruder love than mine be near.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>      And I will leave</p> -<p class='line0'>All other cares, and steal to see,</p> -<p class='line0'>      At morn and eve,</p> -<p class='line0'>Mine own lov’d flowret’s purity—</p> -<p class='line0'>For I alone shall smile on thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>And thou alone shall smile on me.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>      And when thou’rt gone</p> -<p class='line0'>And all thy sweetness buried deep,</p> -<p class='line0'>      And I alone—</p> -<p class='line0'>Still will I in my fond heart keep</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy memory green, and come to weep,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where thou, my loved one, shalt sleep.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>      And soon, dear flow’r,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ah, very soon I’ll follow thee—</p> -<p class='line0'>      My little hour</p> -<p class='line0'>Of fated life must quickly flee—</p> -<p class='line0'>Then cold and lone my grave shall be,</p> -<p class='line0'>Without a tear—oh! not like thee.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk104'/> - -<div><h1><a id='good'></a>“GOOD-NIGHT.”</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>FOUND AMONG THE PAPERS OF THE LATE WALTER HERRIES, ESQ.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Good-night!” the words were spoken, and we parted,</p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>I</span> to my lonely home, to muse on thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>With spirit bowed and saddened, broken-hearted—</p> -<p class='line0'>  And <span class='it'>thou</span>, to dreams of joy—but not of me.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Good-night!” how very coldly it was spoken;</p> -<p class='line0'>  But those loved tones are lingering near me yet,</p> -<p class='line0'>And though of tenderness they bring no token,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I would not, if I had the power, forget.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Good-night!” and happy, dearest, be thy morrow—</p> -<p class='line0'>  From gloom and sadness be thy future free;</p> -<p class='line0'>Be mine alone the darkness and the sorrow—</p> -<p class='line0'>  For where <span class='it'>thou</span> art not, all is night to me.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk105'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='140' id='Page_140'></span><h1><a id='jasper'></a>JASPER ST. AUBYN;</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>OR THE COURSE OF PASSION.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1em;'>(<span class='it'>Continued from page 91.</span>)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The morning was still very young, and the sun, -which was but just beginning to rise above the brow -of the eastern hill, poured his long, yellow rays, full -of a million dusty motes, in almost level lines down -the soft, green slopes, diversified by hundreds of cool -purple shadows, projected far and wide over the -laughing landscape, from every tree and bush that -intercepted the mild light.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dews of the preceding night still clustered unexhaled, -sparkling like diamonds to the morning beams, -on every leaf and flower; a soft west wind was playing -gently with the thousands of bright buds and -blossoms which decked the pleasant gardens; and the -whole air was perfumed with the delicate fragrance -of the mignionette and roses, which filled the luxuriant -parterres. The hum of the reveling bees came to the -ear with a sweet domestic sound, and the rich carol of -the blackbird and the thrush came swelling from the -tangled shrubberies, full fraught with gratitude and -glee.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was into such a scene, and among such sights and -sounds, that the young free-trader wandered forth from -the tranquillity and gloom of the sick chamber in which -he had spent a sleepless night; but his mind had been -too deeply stirred by his conversation with Sir Miles -St. Aubyn, and chords of too powerful feeling had been -thrilled into sudden and painful life, to allow him to be -penetrated, as he might have been in a less agitated -hour, by the sweet influences of the time and season.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still, though he was unconscious of the pleasant -sights and sounds and smells which surrounded him, -as he strolled slowly through the bowery walks of the -old garden, they had more or less effect upon his perturbed -and bitter spirit; and his mood became gradually -softer, as he mused upon what had passed within -the last hour, alone in that bright solitude.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wild and impetuous and almost fierce by nature, he -had brooded from his very boyhood upward over his -real and imaginary wrongs, until the iron had so deeply -pierced his soul, that he could see nothing but coldness, -and hostility, and persecution in the conduct of all -around him, with the exception of his old student uncle -and his sweet Theresa. Ever suspecting, ever anticipating -injury and insult, or at least coldness and repulsion -from all with whom he was brought into contact, -he actually generated in the breasts of others the feelings -which he imputed to them all unjustly. Accusing -the world of injustice or ere it was unjust, in the end -he made it to be so indeed; and then hated it, and railed -against it, for that which it had never dreamed of, but -for his own fantastic waywardness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was unfortunate for Durzil, that the good man, -into whose care he had fallen, ever of a philosophical -and studious, nay, even mystic disposition, had become, -since the sad fate of his beloved sister, and the early -death of a yet dearer wife, so wholly visionary, so -entirely given up to the wildest theorizing, the most -abstruse and abstract metaphysical inquiries, that no -one could have been devised less fitting for the guardian -and instructor of a high-spirited, hot-headed, fiery -boy than he was.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The consequence of this was, as it might have been -expected, that disgusted early with the strange sorts -of learning which the old man persisted in forcing into -him against the grain, and discontented with the stillness -and deathlike tranquillity of all around him, the -boy ran away from his distasteful home, and shipped -for the India voyage in a free-trader, half merchantman, -half-picaroon, before he had yet attained his thirteenth -year. In that wild and turbulent career, well suited to -his daring and contemptuous spirit, he had, as he himself -expressed it, become hardened and inured not to -toils and sufferings only, but to thoughts and feelings, -habits and opinions, which perhaps now could never -be eradicated from his nature, of which they had become, -as it were, part and parcel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he returned, well nigh a man in years, and -quite a man in stature, and perhaps more than most men -in courage, resource, coolness and audacity, old Allan, -to whom he had written once or twice, apprising him -that he had adopted the sea as his home and his profession, -received him with a hearty welcome, and with -few or no inquiries as to the period during which he -had been absent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thereafter, he came and went as he would, unasked -and unheeded. When he was ashore, the cottage by -the fords of Widecomb was his home; and his increasing -wealth—for he had prospered greatly in his -adventurous career—added materially to the comforts -of old Allan’s housekeeping. His life was, therefore, -spent in strange alternations; now amid the wildest -excitement—the storm, the chase, the fierce and frantic -speculation, the perilous and desperate fight, the revelry, -the triumph, and the booty; and now, in the calmest -and most peaceful solitude, amid the sweetest pastoral -scenery, and with the loveliest and most innocent companion -that ever soothed the hot and eager spirit of -erring and impetuous man, into almost woman’s softness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And hence it was, perhaps, that Durzil Bras-de-fer -had, as it were, two different natures—one fierce, rash, -bitter, scornful, heedless of human praise or human -censure, pitiless to human sorrow, reckless of human -life, merciless, almost cruel—the other generous, and -<span class='pageno' title='141' id='Page_141'></span> -soft, and sympathetic, and full of every good and gentle -impulse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And it was in the latter of these only, that Theresa -Allan knew him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It must not be supposed from what I have written, -that Durzil was a pirate, or a buccaneer—far from it. -For though, at times, he and his comrades assumed -the initiative in warfare, and smote the Spaniards and -the Dutchmen, and the French unsparingly, beyond the -Line, and made but small distinction between the -<span class='it'>meum</span> and the <span class='it'>tuum</span>, especially if the <span class='it'>tuum</span> pertained -to the stranger and the papist, still neither public -opinion, nor their own consciences condemned them—they -were regarded, as Cavendish, and Raleigh, and -Drake, and Frobisher and Hawkins had been, a reign -or two before, as bold, headlong adventurers; perhaps -a little lawless, but on the whole, noble and daring -men, and were esteemed in general rather an ornament -than a disgrace to their native land.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As men are esteemed of men, such they are very apt -to be or to become; and, having the repute of chivalrous -spirit, of generosity and worth, no less than of -dauntless courage, and rare seamanship, the adventurous -free-traders of that day held themselves to be, -in all respects, gentlemen, and men of honor; and -holding themselves so, for the most part they became so.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was, therefore, by no means either wonderful or -an exception to a rule, that Durzil Bras-de-fer should -have been such as I have described him, awake to -gentle impulses, alive to good impressions, easily subject -to the influences of the finest female society, and -in no respect a person either from his habits, his tastes, -or his profession to be rejected by men of honor, or -eschewed by women of refinement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now, as he followed slowly on the steps of his -beautiful cousin, the young man was more alive than -usual to the higher and nobler sensibilities of his mind. -The information which he had gained concerning his -own father’s feelings, at the moment of his death, had -greatly softened him, and it began to occur to him—which -was, indeed, true—that he might have been -during his whole life conjuring up phantoms against -which to do battle, and attributing thoughts and actions -to the world at large, of which the world might well -be wholly innocent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Up to this moment, although he had long been aware -of his constantly increasing passion for his fair cousin, -he had rested content with the mild and sisterlike affection -which she had ever manifested toward him; and, -having been ever her sole companion, ever treated -with most perfect confidence and sympathy, having -found her at all times charmed to greet his return, and -grieved at his departure; knowing, above all things, -that at the very worst he had no rival, and that her -heart had never been touched by any warmer passion -than she felt toward himself, he had scarcely paused to -inquire even of himself, whether he was beloved in -turn, much less had he endeavored to penetrate the -secrets of her heart, or to disturb the calm tenor of -her way by words or thoughts of passion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, however, the words, the questions of the old -cavalier had awakened many a doubt in his soul; and -with the doubt came the desire irrepressible to envisage -his fate, to learn and ascertain, once and for all, whether -his lot was to be cast henceforth in joy or in sorrow; -whether, in a word, he was to be a wanderer and an -outcast, by sea and by land, unto his dying day, or -whether this very hour was to be to him the commencement -of a new era, a new life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, as he walked forth in the beautiful calm -morning, in that old, pleasant garden, which had been -the scene of so much peaceable and innocent enjoyment, -he felt himself at once a sadder and a better man than -he had ever been before; and while determined to -delay no longer, but to try his gentle cousin’s heart, he -was supported by no high and fiery hope; he seemed -to have lost, he knew not how or wherefore, that proud -heaven-reaching confidence, which was wont to count -all things won while they were yet to win, still less -did his heart kindle and blaze out with that preconceived -indignation at the idea of being unappreciated -or neglected, which would a few hours before have -goaded him almost to frenzy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have written much of his character to little purpose, -if it be not plain that humility was the frame of mind -least usual to the youthful seaman, yet now, for once, -he was humble. He had discovered, for the first time -in his life, that he had erred grossly in his estimate of -others, and was beginning to suspect that that false -estimate had led him far away from true principles, -true conceptions; he was beginning, in a word, to suspect -that he was himself <span class='it'>less</span> sinned against than -sinning; and that his was, in fact, a very much misguided -and distempered spirit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He clasped his brow closely with a feverish and -trembling hand, as he walked onward slowly, pondering, -with his whole soul intent upon the future and the -past. He was inquiring of himself, “Does she, can -she love me?” and he could make no answer to his -own passionate questioning. While he was in this -mood, bending his steps toward the favorite bower -wherein he half hoped half feared to find Theresa, a -soft voice fell upon his ear, and a light hand was laid -upon his arm, as he passed the intersection of another -shady walk with that through which he was -strolling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good-morrow, Durzil,” said the young girl, merrily. -“I never thought to see you out so early in the garden; -but I am glad that you are here, for I want you. So -come along with me at once, and tell me if it be not -a nest of young nightingales which I have found in the -thick syringa bush beside my arbor. Come, Durzil, -don’t you hear me? Why what ails you, that you -look so sad, and move so heavily this glorious summer -morning? You are not ill, are you, dear Durzil?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear Durzil,” he repeated, in a low, subdued tone. -“<span class='it'>Dear</span> Durzil! I would to God that I were dear to -you, Theresa—that I were dear to any one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So singular was the desponding tone in which he -spoke, so strange and unwonted was the cloud of -deep depression which sat on his bold, intelligent brow, -that the young girl stared at him in amazement, almost -in alarm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are ill,” she cried, in tones of affectionate -anxiety; “you must be ill, or you would never speak -so strangely, so unkindly; or is it only that you are -<span class='pageno' title='142' id='Page_142'></span> -overdone with watching by that poor youth’s sick -bed? Yet no, no, that can never be, you who are so -strong and so hardy. What is it, dearest cousin? -Tell me, what is it makes you speak so wildly—would -that you <span class='it'>were</span> dear to me! why, if not you, <span class='it'>you</span> and -my good, kind father, who on the face of the wide -earth is dear to poor Theresa! That you were dear to -any one! You, whom my father looks upon and loves -as his own son; you, whose companions hold you as -almost more than mortal—for have I not marked the -inscriptions on your sabre’s guard, and on the telescope -they gave you? You, who have saved the lives -of so many fellow mortals; you, to whom those ladies, -rescued at Darien from the bloodthirsty Spaniards, -addressed such glowing words of gratitude and love; -you, cousin Durzil, <span class='it'>you</span>, who are so great, so brave, -so wise, so skillful, and above all, so generous and -kind; <span class='it'>you</span> talk of wishing you were dear to any one! -Good sooth! you must be dreaming, or you are bewitched, -gentle Durzil.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I be,” he replied with a smile, for her high -spirits and gay enthusiasm aroused him from his -gloomier thoughts, and began to enkindle brighter hopes -in his bosom, “if I be, thou, Theresa, art the enchantress -who has done it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay! now you are more like yourself; but tell me,” -she said, caressingly, “what was it made you sad and -dark but now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Only this, dear Theresa, that I am again about to -leave you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To leave us—to leave us so soon and so suddenly. -Why you have been here but three little weeks, which -have passed like so many days, and when you came -you said that you would stay with us till autumn. Oh, -dear! my father will be so grieved at your going. You -do not know, you do not dream how much he loves -you, Durzil. He is a different person altogether when -you are at home—so much gayer, and more sociable! -Oh! wherefore must you leave us so quickly, and -after so long an absence, too, as your last? Oh, truly, -it is unkind, Durzil.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you, Theresa, shall you be sorry?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will not answer you,” she replied, half petulantly, -half tearfully. “It is unkind of you to go, and doubly -unkind of you to speak to me thus. What have I done -to you now, what have I ever done to you, that you -should doubt my being sorry. Are not you the only -friend, the only companion I have got in the wide -world? Are you not as near and dear to me, as if you -were my own brother? Do not I love you as my -brother, even as my father loves you as his son? Ah, -Durzil! if you are never less loved than you are by -poor Theresa Allan, you will ne’er need to complain -for lack of loving.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she burst into tears as she ended her rapid -speech; for she did not comprehend in the least at -what he was aiming, and her innocent and artless -heart was wounded by what she fancied to be a doubt -of her affection.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And if you feel so deeply the mere temporary -absence which my profession forces on me, Theresa, -how, think you, should you feel were that absence to -be eternal?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Eternal!” she exclaimed, turning very pale. -“Eternal! What do you mean by eternal?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It may well be so, Theresa; and yet it rests with -yourself, after all, whether I go or not—and yet be -sure of this, if I do go, I go forever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With <span class='it'>me</span>—does it rest with <span class='it'>me</span>?” she cried, joyously. -“Oh! if it rests with me, you will not go at -all—you will never go any more. I am always in -terror while you are absent; and the west wind never -blows, howling as it does over these desolate bare hills, -with its mournful, moaning voice, which they say is -the very sound of a spirit’s cry, but it conjures up to -my mind all dread ideas of the tremendous rush and -roar of the mountain billows upon some rock-bound -leeward coast, as I have heard you tell by the <a id='cheer'></a>cheerful -hearth; and of stranded vessels, creaking and groaning -as their huge ribs break asunder, and of corpses weltering -on the ruthless waves; oh! such dread day-dreams! -If it rest with me, go you shall not, Durzil, -ever again to sea. And why should you? You have -won fame enough, and glory and wealth more than -enough to supply your wants so long as you live. Why -should you go to sea again, dear Durzil?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will <span class='it'>not</span> go again, Theresa, if such seriously be -your deliberate desire.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If such seriously be my deliberate desire!” the -fair girl repeated the words after him, with a sort of -half solemn drollery. Was it the native instinct of the -female heart, betraying itself in that innocent and -artless creature, scarcely in years more than a child—the -inborn, irrepressible coquetry of the sex, foreseeing -what was about to follow from the young man’s lips, -yet seeking all unconsciously to delay the avowal, to -protract the uncertainty, the excitement, or was it -genuine, unsuspecting innocence? “You are most -singularly solemn,” she continued, “this fine morning, -Durzil, wondrously serious and deliberate; and so, as -you are so precise, I must, I suppose, answer you likewise -in due set form. Of course, it is my desire to -have the company of one whom I esteem and love, of -one to whom I look up for countenance and protection, -of my only relative on earth, except my dear -old father, as much as I can have it, with due regard -to his interests and well-being. My father is getting -very old, too, and infirm; and at times I fancy that his -mind wanders. I cannot fail, therefore, to perceive -that he needs a more able and energetic person near -him than I am. I can, moreover, see no good cause -why you should persist in following so perilous and -stormy a profession, unless it be that you love it. -Therefore, as I have said, of <span class='it'>course</span>, if it rest with me -to detain you, I would do so—but always under this -proviso, that it were with your own good will; for I -confess, dear Durzil, that I fear, if you were detained -against your wish, if you still pant for the strong excitement, -the stormy rapture, as I have heard you call -it, of the chase, the battle, and the tempest, you never -could be happy here, whatever we might do to please -you. Now, Durzil, seriously and deliberately, you are -answered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could be happy here. I am weary of agitation -and excitement. I feel that I have erred—that the -path I have taken leads not to happiness. I want -<span class='pageno' title='143' id='Page_143'></span> -tranquillity, repose of the heart, above all things—love!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then do not go—then I say positively, Durzil, dear -Durzil, stay with us—you can find all these here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you sure—all of them?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure? Why, if not here in this delicious, pastoral, -simple country, in this dear cottage, with its lovely -garden and calm waters, where in the world should -you find tranquillity, if not here, in the midst of your -best friends, in the bosom of your own family, where -should you look for love?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Theresa, there be more kinds of love than one—and -that I crave is not cold, duteous, family affection.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, for the first time, it seemed that the young -man’s meaning broke clearly upon her mind; now a -sudden and bright illumination burst upon all that -seemed strange and wild and inconsistent in his conduct, -in his speech, in his very silence. Unsuspected -before, it was now evident to her at once that deep, -overmastering passion was the cause to which she -must refer all that had been for some time past to her -an incomprehensible enigma in her cousin’s demeanor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now that she was assured, for the first time in -her life, that she was really, deeply, ardently beloved—not -as a pretty, childish playmate, not as an amiable -and dear relative, but as herself, for herself, a lovable -and lovely woman, how did the maiden’s heart respond -to the great revelation?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Elevated on the instant from the girl to the woman, -a strange and thrilling sense, a sort of moral shock -affected her whole system—was it of pleasure or -of pain?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It has been often said, and I presume said truly, that -no woman—no, not the best and purest, the most modest -and considerate of their sex—ever receive a declaration -of love from any man, even if the man himself be -distasteful to her, even if the love he proffer be illicit -and dishonest, without a secret and instinctive sense of -high gratification, a consciousness of power, of triumph, -a pride in the homage paid to her charms, a sort of -gratitude for the tribute rendered to her sex’s loveliness. -She may, and will, repulse the dishonorable -love with scorn and loathing, yet still, though she may -spurn the worthless offering, and heap reproach upon -the daring offerer, still she will be half pleased by the -offer—if it be only that she has had the power, the -pleasure—for all power is pleasure—of rejecting it. -She may, and will, gently, considerately, sympathetically -decline the honest offers of a pure love which she -cannot reciprocate or value as it should be valued; but -even if he who made the tender be repulsive, almost -odious, still she must be gratified, perhaps almost -grateful for that which he has done.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To a young girl more especially, just bursting from -the bud into the bloom of young womanhood, scarce -conscious yet that she is a woman, scarcely awake to -the sense of her own powers, her own passions—a -creature full of vague, shadowy, mysterious fancies, -strange uncomprehended thoughts, and half perceived -desires, there is—there must be something of wondrous -influence, of indescribable excitement in the receiving -a first declaration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so it was with Theresa Allan. She was, in -truth, no angel—for angels are not to be met with in -the daily walks of this world—she was, indeed, neither -more nor less than a mere mortal woman, mortal in all -the imperfection, and narrowness, and feebleness, and -inability to rise even to the height of its own best -aspirations, which are peculiar to mortality—woman -in all the frailty and vanity and variety, no less than in -all the tenderness, the truth, the constancy, the loveliness, -the sweetness of true womanhood. She was, -in a word, just what a great modern poet has described -in those sweet lines,</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“A creature not too bright or good</p> -<p class='line0'> For human nature’s daily food;</p> -<p class='line0'> For transient sorrows, simple wiles,</p> -<p class='line0'> Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>and no one who is a true judge of human, and yet -more of woman nature will regret that she was such; -for he must be a poor judge indeed, he must know little -of the real character of womanhood, who does not feel -that one half of her best influences, one half of her -sweetest power of charming, soothing, controling, -winding herself about the very heart-strings, arises -from her very imperfections. Take from her these, and -what she might then be we know not, but she would not -be woman, and until the world has seen something -better and more endearing, until a wiser artificer can -be found than <span class='sc'>He</span> who made her, even as she is, a help -meet for man—away with your abstractions! give her -to us as she is, at least if not perfect, the best and -brightest of created things—a very, very woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She heard his words, she felt his meaning, yet the -sense of the words seemed to be lost, the very sounds -rang in her ears dizzily, her breath came so painfully -that she almost fancied she was choking, the earth appeared -to shake under her feet, and every thing around -her to wheel drunkenly to and fro.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She pressed one hand upon her heart, and caught -her cousin’s arm with the other to support herself. Her -whole face, which a moment before had been alive and -radiant with the warm hues of happiness and youth, became -as white as marble. Her very lips were bloodless; -her whole frame trembled as if she had an ague fit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He gazed on her in wonder, almost in terror. For a -moment he thought that she was about to faint, almost -to die; and so violent, in truth, was the affection of -her nerves, that, had she not been relieved by a sudden -passion of tears, it is doubtful what might have been -the result.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were standing when Durzil Bras-de-fer uttered -the words which had wrought so singular a change in -Theresa’s manner, within a pace or two of the sylvan -bower, of which she had spoken, and without a moment’s -pause, or a syllable uttered, he hurried her into -its quiet recess, and placing her gently on the mossy -seat within, knelt down at her feet, holding her left -hand in his own, and gazing up anxiously in her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was amazed—he was alarmed. Not for himself -alone, not from the selfish fear of losing what he most -prized on earth—but for her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He knew not, indeed, whether that strange and almost -terrible revulsion arose from pleasure or from pain. -He knew not, could not even conjecture whether it -boded good or evil to his hopes, to his happiness. But -the scales had fallen from his eyes in an instant. He -<span class='pageno' title='144' id='Page_144'></span> -had discovered now, what her old father, recognizing -genius with the intuitive second-sight of kindred genius, -had perceived long before that this young, artless, inexperienced, -child-like girl, was, indeed, a creature -wonderfully and fearfully made.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had never before suspected that beneath that -calm, gentle, tranquil, unexciteable exterior there beat -a heart, there thrilled a soul full of the strongest capabilities, -the most earnest aspirations, the most intense -imaginings, that ever were awakened by the magic -touch of love, into those overwhelming passions, which -can tend to middle state, but must lead to the perfect -happiness or utter misery of their possessor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But he saw it, he knew it now; and he felt that so -soon as the present paroxysm should pass over, she too -would feel and know all this likewise. Whether for -good or for evil, for weal or for wo, he perceived that -he had unlocked for her whom he truly and singly -loved, the hitherto sealed fountain of knowledge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And he almost shuddered at the thought of what he -had done—he almost wished that he had stifled his own -wishes, sacrificed his own hopes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For though impetuous and impulsive, though in some -degree warped and perverted, he was not selfish. And -when he observed the terrible power which his words -had produced upon her, and judged thence of the character -and temper of her mind and intellect, a sad suspicion -fell upon him that hers was one of those over -delicate temperaments, one of those spirits too rarely -endowed, too sensitively constituted ever to know -again, when once awakened to self-consciousness, that -quietude in which alone lies true happiness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Several minutes passed before a word was spoken -by either. But gradually the color returned to her lips, -to her checks, and the light relumed her beautiful blue -eyes, and the tremor passed away from her slight -frame; but her face continued motionless, and so calm -that its gravity almost amounted to severity. It was -not altogether melancholy, it was not at all anger, but it -was, what in a harder and less youthful face would -have been sternness. Never before had he seen such -an expression on any human face—never, assuredly, -had hers worn it before. It was the awakening of a -new spirit—the consciousness of a new power—the -first struggling into life of a great purpose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her hand lay passive in his grasp, yet he could feel -the pulses throbbing to the very tips of those small, rosy -fingers, so strongly and tumultuously, that he could not -reconcile such evidence of her quick and lively feeling -with the fixed tranquillity of the eye which was bent -upon his own, with the rigidity of the marble brow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length, and contrary to what is wont to happen, -it was he who first broke silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Theresa,” he said, “I have grieved—I have pained—perhaps -offended you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then she started, as his voice smote her ears, so -complete had been the abstraction of her mind, and -recovering all her faculties and readiness of mind on -the instant,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Durzil,” she said, very sweetly, but very -sorrowfully, “you have grieved me, you have pained -me, very, very deeply; but oh, do not imagine that you -have offended—that you could offend me. No; you -have torn away too suddenly, too roughly, the veil -that covered my eyes and my heart. You have -awakened thoughts, and feelings, and perceptions in -my soul, of whose existence I never dreamed before. -You have made me know myself as it were, better -within the last few minutes than I ever knew myself -before. It seems to me, that I have lived longer and -felt more, since we have sat here together, than in all -the years I can count before. And, oh, my heart! my -heart! I am most unhappy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You cannot love me, then, Theresa,” he said, -tranquilly; for he had vast self-control, and he was too -much of a man to suffer his own agitation or distress -to agitate or distress her further. “You cannot love -me as I would be loved by you—you cannot be mine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Durzil,” she said, in tones full of the deepest emotion, -“until the moment in which you spoke to me, I -never thought of love, I never dreamed or imagined to -myself what it should be, other than the love I bear to -my father, to you, to all that is kind, and good, and -beautiful in humanity or in nature. But your words, -I know not how nor wherefore, have awakened me, as -it were, into a strange sort of knowledge. I do <span class='it'>not</span> -love, I almost hope that I never may love, as you would -wish me to love you; but I do feel <span class='it'>now</span> that I know -what such love should be; and I tremble at the knowledge. -I feel that it would be too strong, too full of -fear, of anxiety, of agony, to allow of happiness. Oh, -no, no! Durzil, do not ask me, do not wish me to love -you so; pray, rather pray for me to God rather, that I -may never love at all—for so surely as I do love, I -know that I shall be a wretched, wretched woman!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was a strange scene, and it passed between a -strange pair. Great influences had been at work in the -minds of both within the last few hours, and it would -have been very difficult to say in which the greatest -change had been wrought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In her, the tranquil, innocent, unconscious girl had -been aroused into the powerful, passionate, thoughtful -woman. A knowledge of that whereof she had been -most ignorant before “her glassy essence” had -awakened her, as the breeze awakens the lake from -repose into power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In him, the violent, hot-headed, stubborn, and impetuous -man of action had been tamed down by a conversion -almost as sudden and convincing into the slow, -self-controlled, self-denying man of counsel. As the -discovery of power had aroused her into life, so had -the discovery of long cherished, long injurious error, -tamed him into tranquillity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One day ago he would have raved furiously, or -brooded sullenly and darkly over her words. Now, -even with the fit of passion all puissant over him, with -the wild heat of love burning within his breast, with -the keen sense of disappointment wringing him, he had -yet force of temper to control himself, nay, more, -he had force of mind enough to see and apprehend, -that <span class='it'>this</span> Theresa, was no longer the Theresa whom -he loved; and that, although he still adored her, it was -impossible either for him to meet the aspirations of her -glowing and inspired genius, or for her to be to him -what he had dreamed of, the tranquillizing, soothing -spirit which should pour balm upon his wounded, -<span class='pageno' title='145' id='Page_145'></span> -restless, irritable feelings—the wife, whose first, best -gift to him should be repose and tranquillity of soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He pressed her hand tenderly, and said, as he might -have done to a dear sister,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been to blame, Theresa. I have given you -pain, rashly, but not wantonly. Forgive me, for you -are the last person in the world to whom I would give -even a moment’s uneasiness. I did not suspect this, -dear little girl. I did not dream that you were so -nervous, or moved so easily; but you must not yield -to such feelings—such impulses, for it is only by yielding -to them that they will gain power over you, and make -you, indeed, an unhappy woman. You shall see, -Theresa, how patiently I will bear my disappointment—for -that it is a disappointment, and a very bitter one, -I shall not deny—and how I will be happy in spite of -it, and all for love of you. And in return, Theresa, -if you love poor Durzil, as you say you do, as your -true friend and your brother, you will control these -foolish fancies of your little head, which you imagine -to be feelings of your heart, and I shall one day, I doubt -not, have the pleasure of seeing you not only a very -happy woman, but a very happy wife.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you are good, Durzil,” she said, tearfully and -gently. “Oh, you are very good and noble. Why—why -cannot I—” and she interrupted herself suddenly, -and covering her eyes with both her hands, wept -silently and softly for several minutes. And he spoke -not to her the while, nor even sought to soothe, for he -well knew that tears were the best solace to an over-wrought -over-excited spirit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a little while, as he expected, she recovered -herself altogether, and looking up in his face with a wan -and watery smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are not hurt, you are not wounded by what I -have done,” she said, “dear Durzil. You do not fancy -that I do not perceive, do not feel, and esteem, and -love all your great, and good, and generous, and noble -qualities. I am a foolish, weak little girl—I am not -worthy of you; I could not, I know I could not make -you happy, even if I could—if I could—if—you know -what I would say, Durzil.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you could be happy with me yourself,” he answered, -smiling in his turn, and without an effort, -although his smile was pensive and sad likewise. -“No, my Theresa, I am not hurt nor wounded. I am -grieved, it is true, I cannot but be grieved at the dissipating -of a pleasant dream, at the vanishing of a hope -long indulged, long cherished—a hope which has been -a solace to me in many a moment of pain and trial, a -sweet companion in many a midnight watch. But I -am neither hurt nor wounded; for you have never -given me any reason to form so bold, so unwarranted -hope, and you have given me now all that you can give -me, sympathy and kindness. Our hearts, our affections, -I well know, let men say what they will, are -not our own to give—and a true woman can but do -what you have done. Moreover, even with the sorrow -and regret which I feel at this moment, there is mingled -a conviction that you are doing what is both wise and -right; for although you have all within yourself, though -you are all that would make me, or a far better man -than I, ay, the best man who ever breathed the breath -of life, supremely happy; still, if you could not be -happy with me, and in me yourself—how could I -be so?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked up at him again, and now, with an altered -expression, for there was less of sadness and more of -surprise, more of respect for the man who spoke so -composedly, so well, in a moment of such trial, on her -fair features. Perhaps, too, there might have been a -shadow of regret—could it be of regret that he did not -feel more acutely the loss which he had undergone? -If there were such a feeling in her mind—for she was -woman—it was transient as the lightning of a summer’s -night—it was gone before she had time even to reproach -herself for its momentary existence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are astonished,” he said, interpreting her -glance, almost before she knew that he had observed -it, “you are astonished that I should be so calm, who -am by nature so quick and headlong. But I, too, have -learned much to-day—have learned much of my own -nature, of my own infirmities, of my own errors—and -with me to learn that these exist, is to resolve to conquer -them. I have learned first, Theresa, that my father, -whom I have ever been forced to regard as my worst -enemy, died conscious of the wrong he had done me—done -my mother—and penitent, and full of love and of -sorrow for us both. And therein have I convicted -myself of one great error, committed, indeed, through -ignorance, which has, however, been the cause, the -source of many other errors—which has led me to -charge the world with injustice, when I was myself -unjust rather to the world, which has made me guilty -of the great offence, the great crime of hating my -brother men, when I should have pitied them, and -loved them. Therefore I will be wayward no more, -nor rash, nor reckless. I will make one conquest at -least—that of myself and of my own passions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know—I know,” said the girl, suddenly blushing -very deeply, “that you are every thing that is good -and great; every thing that men ought to admire and -women to love, and yet—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And yet you cannot love me. Well, think no -more of that, Theresa. Forget—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never! never!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands -eagerly together. “I never can forget what you have -made me feel, what I must have made you <span class='it'>suffer</span> -this day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, if it be so, remember it, Theresa; but remember -it only thus. That if you have quenched my -love, if you destroyed my hope, you have but added to -my regard, to my affection. Promise me that whereever -you may be, however, or with whomsoever your -lot shall be cast, you will always remember me as your -friend, your brother; you will always call on me at -your slightest need, as on one who would shed his -heart’s blood to win you a moment’s happiness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will—I will,” she cried affectionately, fervently. -“On whom else should I call. And God only knows,” -she added, mournfully, “how soon I shall need a protector. -But will you,” she continued, catching both -his hands in her own, “will you be happy, Durzil?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will,” he replied, firmly, returning the gentle -pressure, “I will, at least in so far as it rests with man -to be so, in despite of fortune. But mark me, dear -<span class='pageno' title='146' id='Page_146'></span> -Theresa, if you would have me be so, you can even -yet do much toward rendering me so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can I—then tell me, tell me how, and it is done -already.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By letting me see that <span class='it'>you</span> are happy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Alas!” and again she clasped her hand hard over her -heart, as if to still its violent beating. “Alas! Durzil.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And why, alas! Theresa?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can we be happy at our own will?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Independently of great woes, great calamities, -which we may not control, which are sent to us for -wise ends from above—surely, I say, surely we can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And can you, Durzil?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Theresa, <span class='it'>this</span> is to me a great wo—yea, a great -calamity; and yet I reply, ay! after a time, after -the bitterness shall be overpast, I can, and more, I -will. Much more, then, can you, who have never felt, -who I trust and believe will never meet any such wo -or grief—much more can you be happy. Wherefore -should you not, foolish child—have you not been happy -hitherto? What have you, that you should not be -happy now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing,” she replied, faintly. “I have nothing -why I should be unhappy, unless it be, if I have made -you so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Theresa, you have not—you shall see that you -have not—made me unhappy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And yet, Durzil, yet I feel a foreboding that I shall -be, that I must be unhappy. A want—I feel a want -of something here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are excited, agitated now; all this has been -too much for your spirits, for your nerves; and I think, -Theresa, I am sure that you are too much alone—you -think, or rather you muse and dream, which are not -healthy modes of thinking—too much in solitude. I -will speak to my uncle about that before I go—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Before you go!” she interrupted him, quickly. -“Go, whither?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To sea. To my ship, Theresa.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you <span class='it'>are</span> hurt, then you <span class='it'>are</span> angry with me. -Then I have no influence over you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cease, cease, Theresa. It is better, it is necessary—I -must go for awhile, until I have weaned myself -from this desperate feeling, until I shall have accustomed -myself to think of you, to regard you as a sister -only; until I shall have schooled myself so far as to -be able to contemplate you without agony as not only -not being mine—but being another’s.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would it—would it be agony to you, Durzil? Then -mark me, I never, never will be another’s.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Madness!” he answered, firmly; “madness and -wickedness, too, Theresa. Neither man or woman -were intended by the great Maker to be solitary beings. -God forbid, if you cannot be mine, that I should be so -selfish as to wish your life barren, and your heart -loveless. No; love, Theresa, when you can, only love -wisely; and the day shall come when it will add to -my happiness to see and know you happy in the love -of one whom you can love, and who shall love you -as you must be loved. Never speak again as you -did but now, Theresa. And now, dearest girl, I -will leave you. Rest yourself awhile, and compose -yourself, and then go if you will to your good father.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shall I—shall I tell him,” she faltered, “what has -passed between us?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As you will, as you judge best, Theresa. I am no -advocate for concealment, still less for deceit—but here -there is none of the latter, and to tell him this might -grieve his kind spirit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are wise—you are good. God bless you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you, Theresa,” and he passed his arm calmly -across her shoulder, and bending over, pressed his lips, -calmly as a father’s kiss on her pure brow. “Fare -you well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are not going—going to leave us now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not to-day—not to-day, Theresa.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nor to-morrow?” she said, beseechingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nor to-morrow,” he replied, after a moment’s -hesitation, “but soon. Now compose yourself, my -dear little girl. Farewell, and God bless you.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER V.</h2> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:0.9em;'><span class='it'>The Parting.</span></p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';fs:0.9em;' --> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Addio Teresa, Teresa addio.</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>No pianger, bella, no pianger, no.</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Quando To ritorno</p> -<p class='line' style='margin-bottom:1em;font-size:0.9em;'>Ti rivedro.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>After scenes of great excitement there ever follows -a sort of listless languor; and, as in natural commotions -the fiercest elemental strife is oftentimes succeeded by -the stillest calms, so in the agitations of the human -breast, the most tumultuous passions are followed frequently, -if not invariably, by a sort of quiet which resembles, -though it is not, indifference.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus it was, that day, in the household of William -Allan. Tranquil and peaceful at all times, in consequence -of the reserved and studious habits of the -master of the house, and the deep sympathy with his -feelings and wishes which ruled the conduct of his -children—for Durzil was in all respects, save birth, the -old man’s son—that house was not usually without its -own peculiar cheerfulness, and its subdued hilarity, -arising from the gentle yet mirthful disposition of the -young girl, and the high spirits of Durzil, attuned to -the sobriety of the place.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But during the whole of that day its quietude was so -very still as to be almost oppressive, and to be felt so -by its inmates. Allan himself was still enveloped in -one of those mysterious moods of darkness, which at -times clouded his strong and powerful intellect, as -marsh exhalations will obscure the sunshine of an -autumn day. Durzil was silent, reserved, thoughtful, -not gloomy or even melancholy, but—very unusually -for him—disposed to muse and ponder, rather than to -converse or to act. Theresa was evidently agitated -and perturbed; and although she compelled herself to -be busy about her domestic duties, to attend to the -comforts of the strange guests whom accident had -thrown upon their hospitality, though she strove to be -cheerful, and to assume a lightness of heart which she -was far from feeling, she was too poor a dissembler to -succeed in imposing either on herself or on those -about her, and there was no one person in the cottage, -from the old cavalier down to the single female servant, -with the exception of her father, who did not -perceive that something had occurred to throw an -unwonted shadow over her mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='147' id='Page_147'></span> -Jasper, alone perhaps of all the persons so singularly -thrown together, was himself. His age, his character, -his temperament, all combined to render him the last -to be affected seriously by any thing which did not -touch himself very nearly. And yet he was not altogether -what is called selfish; though recklessness, and -natural audacity, and undue indulgence, and, above all, -the evil habits which had grown out of his being too -soon his own master, and the master of others, had -rendered him thoughtless, if not regardless, of the feelings -of those around him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All the consequences of his accident, except the stiffness -and pain remaining from his contusions, had -passed away; and though he was confined to his bed, -and unable to move a limb without a pang, his mind -was as clear, and his spirit as untamed as ever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His father, who had been aroused from the state of -indolence and sedentary torpor, which was habitual -rather than natural to him, by the accident which had -startled him into excitement and activity, had not yet -subsided into his careless self-indulgence; for the subsequent -events of the past evening, and his conversation -with Durzil on that morning, had moved and interested -him deeply; had set him to thinking much -about the past, and thence to ruminating on the future, -if perchance he could read it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He by no means lacked clear-sightedness, or that -sort of worldly wisdom, which arises from much intercourse -with the world in all its various phases. He -was far from deficient in energy when aught occurred -to stimulate him into action, whether bodily or mental. -And now he was interested enough to induce him so -far to exert himself, as to think about what was passing, -and to endeavor to discover its causes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not, therefore, long before he satisfied himself, -and that without asking a question, or giving utterance -to a surmise, that an explanation had taken -place between the young seaman and Theresa, and that -the explanation had terminated in the disappointment -of Durzil’s hopes. Still he was puzzled, for there was -an air of tranquil satisfaction—it could not be called -resignation, for it had no particle of humility in its constituents—about -the young man, and an affectionate -attention to his pretty cousin, which did not comport -with what he supposed to be his character, under such -circumstances as those in which he believed him to -stand toward her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He would have looked for irritability, perhaps for -impetuosity bordering on violence, perhaps for sullen -moodiness—the present disposition of the man was to -him incomprehensible. And if so, not less he was unable -to understand the depression of the young girl, -who was frequently, in the course of the day, so much -agitated, as to be on the point of bursting into tears, and -avoided it only by making her escape suddenly from -the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once or twice, indeed, he caught her eyes, when she -did not know that she was observed, fixed with an expression, -to which he could affix no meaning, upon the -varying and intelligent countenance of his son—an expression -half melancholy, half wistful, conveying no -impression to the spectator’s mind, of the existence in -hers either of love or liking, but rather of some sort of -hidden interest, some earnest curiosity coupled almost -with fear, something, in a word, if such things can be, -that resembled painful fascination. Once too he noticed, -that not he only, but Durzil Bras-de-fer likewise, -perceived the glance, and was struck by its -peculiarity. And then the old cavalier was alarmed; -for a spirit, that was positively fearful, informed the -dark face and gleaming eyes of the free-trader—a spirit -of malevolence and hate, mingled with iron resolve -and animal fierceness, which rendered the handsome -features, while it lasted, perfectly revolting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That aspect was transient, however, as the short-lived -illumination of a lightning flash, when it reveals -the terrors of a midnight ocean. It was there; it was -gone—and, almost before you could read it, the face -was again inscrutable as blank darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The thought arose, several times, that day in the -mind of Miles St. Aubyn, that he would give much -that neither he nor his son had ever crossed the threshhold -of that house; or that now, being within it, it -were within his power to depart. But carriages, in -those days, were luxuries of comparatively rare occurrence -even in the streets of the metropolis; and in the -remote rural counties, the state of society, the character -of the roads, and the limited means of the resident -landed proprietors rendered them almost unknown.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were not probably, within fifty miles of -Widecomb, two vehicles of higher pretension than -the rough carts of the peasantry and farmers; all journeys -being still performed on horseback, if necessary -by relays; even the fair sex traveling, according to -their nerves and capability to endure fatigue, either on -the side-saddle, or on pillions behind a relative or a -trusty servant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Until Jasper should be sufficiently recovered either -to set foot in stirrup, or to walk the distance between -the fords of Widecomb and the House in the Woods, -there was therefore no alternative but to make the best -of it, and to remain where they were, relying on the -hospitality of their entertainers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Durzil’s manner, it is true, partook in no degree of -the coloring which that transient expression seemed to -imply in his feelings; for, though unwontedly silent, -when he did speak he spoke frankly and friendly to the -young invalid; and more than once, warming to his -subject, as field-sports, or bold adventures, of this kind -or that, came into mention, he displayed interest and -animation; and even related some personal experiences, -and striking anecdotes, of the Spanish Main and -of the Indian islands, with so much spirit and liveliness, -as to show that he not only wished to amuse, but -was amused himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While he was in this mood, he suffered it to escape -him, or to be elicited from him by some indistinct -question of the old cavalier, that he intended ere long -to set forth again on another voyage of adventure to -those far climes which were still invested with something -of the romance of earlier ages.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was at this hint, especially, that Miles St. Aubyn -observed Theresa’s beautiful blue eyes fill with unbidden -tears, and her bosom throb with agitation so tumultuous, -that she had no choice but to retire from the -company, in order to conceal her emotion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='148' id='Page_148'></span> -And at this, likewise, for the first time did William -Allan manifest any interest in the conversation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What,” he said, “what is that thou sayest, Durzil, -that thou art again about to leave us? Methought it -was thy resolve to tarry with us until after the autumnal -solstice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was my resolve, uncle,” replied the young man -quietly, “but something has occurred since, which has -caused me to alter my determination. My mates, -moreover, are very anxious to profit by the fine -weather of this season, and so soon as I can ship -a cargo, and get some brisk bold hands, I shall set -sail.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I like not such quick and sudden changes,” replied -the old man; “nor admire the mind which cannot hold -to a steady purpose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dark complexion of Durzil fired for a moment -at the rebuke, and his nether lip quivered, as though -he had difficulty in repressing a retort. He did repress -it, however, and answered, apparently without -emotion:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are a wise man, uncle, and must know that -circumstances will arise which must needs alter all -plans that are merely human. <span class='it'>L’homme propose</span>, as -the Frenchman has it, <span class='it'>mais Dieu dispose</span>. So it is -with me, just now. The changed determination which -I have just announced does not arise from any change -in my desires, but from a contingency on which I did -not calculate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It were better not to determine until one had made -sure of all contingencies,” said William Allan, sententiously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then, I think, one never would determine at all. -For, if I have learned aright, mutability is a condition -unavoidable in human affairs. But be this as it may, -the only change, I can imagine, which will hinder me -from sailing on the Virginia voyage, so soon as I can -ship a crew and stow a cargo, will be a change of the -wind. It blows fair now, if it will only hold a week. -One other change there is,” he added, as his fair cousin -entered the room with a basket of fresh gathered roses, -“which might detain, but that change will not come to -pass, do you think it will, Theresa?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think not, cousin Durzil,” she replied with a -slight blush, “if you allude to that concerning which -we spoke this morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old knight looked from one to the other of the -young people in bewilderment. Their perfect understanding, -and extreme control of their feelings was beyond -his comprehension, and yet he could not believe -that he had mistaken.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What, are you too against me, girl?” said her father -quickly. “Have you given your consent to his -going?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My consent!” she replied, “I do not imagine that -my consent is very necessary, or that Durzil would -wait long for it. But I do think it is quite as well he -should go now, if he must go at all, particularly as he -intends, if I understand rightly, that it shall be his last -voyage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not promise that, Theresa,” said the sailor, -with a faint smile—“although”—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you not”—she interrupted him quickly—“I -thought you had; but it must be as you will, -and certainly it does not much concern me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And with the words, she left the room hastily, and -not as it appeared very well pleased.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There! see’st thou that?” cried her father—“see’st -thou that, Durzil?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay! do I.”—replied the young man with a good -deal of bitterness. “But I do not need to see that to -teach me that women are capricious and selfish in their -exigency of services.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a dead pause. A silence, which in itself -was painful, and which seemed like to give birth to -words more painful yet, for William Allan knit his -brow darkly, and compressed his lower lip, and fixed -his eye upon vacancy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But at this moment Jasper, whose natural recklessness -had rendered him unobservant of the feelings -which had been displayed during that short conversation, -raised himself on his elbow, and looking eagerly -at Durzil exclaimed:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, the Virginia voyage! To the New World! -My God! how I should love to go with you. Do you -carry guns? How many do you muster of your -crew?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The interruption, although the speaker had no such -intention, was well timed, for it turned the thoughts -and feelings of all present into a new channel. The -two old men looked into each other’s faces, and smiled -as their eyes met, and Allan whispered, though quite -loud enough to be audible to all present:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The same spirit, Miles, the same spirit. As crows -the old game cock, so crows the young game -chicken!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And why not?” answered Durzil, with a ready -smile, for there was something that whispered at his -heart, though indeed he knew not wherefore, that it -were not so ill done to remove Jasper from that neighborhood -for a while. “If Sir Miles judge it well that -you should see something of the world, in these piping -times of peace, it is never too soon to begin. You -shall have a berth in mine own cabin, and I will put -you in the way of seeing swords flash, and smelling -villainous saltpetre, in a right good cause, I’ll warrant -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A right good cause, Durzil? and what cause may -that be?” asked his uncle in a caustic tone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The cause of England’s maritime supremacy,” -answered the young man proudly. “That is cause -good enough for me. For what saith bully Blake in -the old song—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“ ‘The sea, the sea is England’s, quo’ he again,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The sea, the sea is England’s, and England’s shall remain.’ ”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>And he caroled the words in a fine deep bass voice, to -a stirring air, and then added—“That, sir, is the cause -we fight for, on the Line and beyond it—and that we -will fight for, here and every where, when it shall be -needful to fight for it. And now, young friend, to answer -your question. I do carry guns, eighteen as -lively brass twelve-pounders as ever spoke good English -to a Don or a Monsieur, or a Mynheer either, for -that matter; and then for crew, men and officers, I -<span class='pageno' title='149' id='Page_149'></span> -generally contrive to pack on board eighty or ninety as -brisk boys as ever pulled upon a brace, or handled a -cutlas.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why you must reckon on high profits to venture -such an outlay,” said Sir Miles, avoiding the question -of his son’s participation in the cruise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay!” answered Durzil, “if no gold is to be had for -picking up in Eldorado, there is some to be gained -there yet by free-trading—and once in a while one may -have the luck to pick up a handful on the sea.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“On the sea, ay! how so?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Once I was going quietly along before the trades, -with my goods under hatches as peaceable and lawful -a trader, as need be, when we fell in with a tall galleon -careering. Having no cause to shun or fear her, I lay -my own course with English colors flying, when what -does she but up helm and after us. In half an hour she -was within range and opened with her bow guns, in -ten minutes more she was alongside, and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Alongside, in ten minutes, from long cannon -range!” exclaimed Miles St. Aubyn—“what were you -doing then, that she overhauled you so fast?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Running down to meet her, Sir Miles, with every -stitch of canvas set that would draw, when I saw that -she was bent on having it; and—as I was about to say -when you interrupted me—in twenty more she had -changed owners.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed! indeed! that <span class='it'>was</span> a daring blow,” said the -old soldier, rousing at the tale, like a superannuated -war-horse to the trumpet, “and what was she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A treasure galleon, sir; a Spaniard homeward -bound, with twenty-six guns, and two hundred men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And what did you with your prize, in peace -time? You hardly brought her into Plymouth, I should -fancy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nor into Cadiz, either,” he replied with a smile. -“Her crew, or what was left of them, were put on -board a coaster bound for St. Salvador, her bars and -ingots on board the good ship ‘Royal Oak,’ of Bristol, -and she—oh! she, I think, was sent to the bottom!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A daring deed!” said Sir Miles, shaking his head -gravely—“a daring deed truly, which might well cost -you all your lives, were it complained of by the Most -Christian King!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And yet his supreme Christianity fired on us the -first!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And yet, that plea, I fear, would hardly save you -in these days, but you would hang for it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Amen!” replied the young man. “Better be -hanged, ‘his country crying he hath played an English -part,’ than creep to a quiet grave a coward from his -cradle. And now, what say you, young sir, would -you still wish to adventure it with us, knowing what -risks we run?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay, by my soul!” answered the brave boy, with -a flashing eye, and quivering lip, “and the rather, that -I <span class='it'>do</span> know it. What do you say, father? May I go -with him? In God’s name, will you not let me go -with him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed, will I not, Jasper,” said Sir Miles, with an -accent of resolve so steady, that the boy saw at once -it was useless to waste another word on it. “Beside, -he is only laughing at you. Why! what in heaven’s -name should he make with such a cockerel as thou, -crowing or ere thy spurs have sprouted!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Laughing at me, is he!” exclaimed the boy, raising -himself up in his bed actively, without exhibiting the -least sign of the pain, which racked him, as he moved. -“If I thought he were, he’d scarce sail so quickly as -he counts on doing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here Durzil would have spoken, but the old cavalier -cut in before him, saying with a sneer,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is like thou could’st hinder him, my boy, at any -time; most of all when thou art lying there bed-ridden.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The very reason wherefore I could hinder him the -easier,” replied Jasper, who saw by Durzil’s grave and -calm expression that the meaning his father had attached -to his speech, was not his meaning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And how so, I prithee.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Had he, as you say he did, intended to mock me, -or insult me otherwise, I would have prayed him courteously -to delay his sailing until such time as my hurts -would permit to draw triggers, or cross swords with -him; and he would have delayed at my request, being -a gentleman of courage and of honor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Assuredly I should,” replied Durzil Bras-de-fer, -“and you would have done very rightly to call on me -in that case. But let me assure you, nothing was further -from my intention than to laugh at you. I sailed -myself, and smelt gunpowder in earnest, before I was -old as you are by several years; and I was perfectly in -earnest when I spoke, although I can now well see -that my offer, though assuredly intended, could not be -accepted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before Jasper had time to reply to these words, his -father said to him with a look of approbation,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have answered very well, my son; and I am -glad that you have reflected, and seen so well what -becomes a gentleman to ask, and to grant in such cases. -For the rest, you ought to see that Master Durzil Olifaunt -is perfectly in the right; and, that having offered -you courteously what you asked rashly, he now perceives -clearly the impossibility of your accepting his -offer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not, however, see that at all,” answered the -boy moodily. “You carried a stand of colors, I have -heard you say, before you were fifteen, and you deny -me the only chance of winning honor that ever may be -offered to me, in these degenerate times, and under this -peaceful king.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not think that it would minister very much to -your honor, or add to the renown of our name, that you -should get yourself hanged on some sand key in the -Caribbean sea, or knocked on the head in some scuffle -with the Spanish guarda costas—no imputation, I pray -you believe me, Master Olifaunt, on your choice of a -career, the gallantry and justice of which I will not -dispute, though I may not wish my son to adopt it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know not what you would have me do,” said the -boy, “unless you intend to keep me here all my life, -fishing for salmon and shooting black-cock for an occupation, -and making love to country girls for an -amusement.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was not aware, Jasper,” answered his father more -seriously than he had ever before heard him speak, -<span class='pageno' title='150' id='Page_150'></span> -“that this latter was one of your amusements. If it -be so, I shall certainly take the earliest means of bringing -it to a conclusion, for while it is not very creditable -to yourself, it is ruinous to those with whom you think -fit to amuse yourself as you call it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not say that I ever had amused myself so,” -replied Jasper, somewhat crest-fallen by the rebuke of -his father—“though if I am kept moping here much -longer, heaven only knows what I may do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, sir, no more of this!” said the old man -sharply. “You are not yet a man, whatever you may -think of yourself; neither, I believe, are you at all profligate -or vicious, although, as boys at your age are -apt enough to do, you may think it manly to affect -vices of which you are ignorant. But to quit this subject, -when do you think you shall sail, Master Olifaunt?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot answer you that, Sir Miles, certainly. I -purpose to set off hence for Plymouth to-morrow afternoon, -and, as I shall ride post, it will not take me long -ere I am on board. When I arrive, I shall be able to -fix upon a day for sailing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you will return hither, will you not, before -you go to sea?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Assuredly I will, Sir Miles, to say farewell to my -kind uncle here, who has been as a father to me, and -to my little Theresa.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you will pass one day I trust, if you may not -give us more, with Jasper at the Manor. We can -show you a heron or two on the moor, and let you see -how our long-winged falcons fly, if you are fond of -hawking. It shall be my fault, if hereafter, after so -long an interruption, I suffer old friendship, and recent -kindness also, to pass away and be forgotten.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will come gladly to see my young friend here, -who will ere then be quite recovered from this misadventure; -and who, if he rides as venturesomely as he -fishes, will surely leave me far behind in the hot hawking -gallop, for though I can ride, I am, sailor-like, not -over excellent at horsemanship.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>[<span class='it'>To be continued.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk106'/> - -<div><h1><a id='span'></a>THE SPANISH MAIDEN.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. AGNES S. COLEMAN.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>A wanderer o’er the hills of Spain,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I stood one balmy summer’s night,</p> -<p class='line0'>To see come down on hill and plain,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Streamlet and tower fair Luna’s light;</p> -<p class='line0'>While traced on the bright waters deep</p> -<p class='line0'>  Were forest dun, dark mountain hoar,</p> -<p class='line0'>Old ruined tower and castle keep,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Reflected from the emerald shore.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But swift winged thought, so prone to stray,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Was hov’ring o’er a western strand,</p> -<p class='line0'>When lo! came minstrel’s gentle lay.</p> -<p class='line0'>  In tones as from Elysian land.</p> -<p class='line0'>A Seville girl with jeweled hair</p> -<p class='line0'>  Was near her <a id='trell'></a>trellised window leaning,</p> -<p class='line0'>And pouring on the balmy air,</p> -<p class='line0'>  This song of love’s own gentle dreaming.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“How many an hour, bright Guadalquiver,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I’ve stood beside thy flowing tide,</p> -<p class='line0'>And wished my home might be forever,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Near where thy silver waters glide—</p> -<p class='line0'>Were Carlos near, with brow of snow</p> -<p class='line0'>  His noble intellect revealing,</p> -<p class='line0'>And that dark eye whose radiant glow</p> -<p class='line0'>  Is lit by high and holy feeling.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“For like fair Eden’s early flowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy groves are in perpetual bloom,</p> -<p class='line0'>And Love’s own wing fans the bright bowers</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of orange, bergamot and broom.</p> -<p class='line0'>O’er all this region of delight</p> -<p class='line0'>  Spring reigns like one unending day,</p> -<p class='line0'>No storms its opening blossoms blight,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Nor shades on its pure waters play.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“And when the orb of day hath gone</p> -<p class='line0'>  Down o’er Morena’s dusky height,</p> -<p class='line0'>How beautiful the stars come on,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The blue ethereal arch of night.</p> -<p class='line0'>Ah this fair earth hath many a scene</p> -<p class='line0'>  By pure and genial breezes fanned,</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet boasts no realm cloudless, serene,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like my own Andalusian land.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“But dull to me the fairest clime,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Cheerless its landscapes to my view,</p> -<p class='line0'>Unless another’s eye with mine,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Can gaze upon its beauty too;</p> -<p class='line0'>And vain to me the rich perfume</p> -<p class='line0'>  Floating on all the ambient air,</p> -<p class='line0'>From Seville’s gardens in their bloom,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Unless a voice I love is there.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Were India’s realm before me laid,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I’d give it all might I recline</p> -<p class='line0'>My saddened brow, my weary head,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Carlos, on that dear heart of thine—</p> -<p class='line0'>And hear thy soft, low tones again</p> -<p class='line0'>  Fall like sweet music on my ear,</p> -<p class='line0'>With strange bland influence to sustain</p> -<p class='line0'>  My timid heart, my spirit cheer.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The Spanish maiden ceased her lay,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And slowly from my vision past,</p> -<p class='line0'>Like some sweet dream in summer’s day,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Too bright and beautiful to last—</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet oft methinks when moonlight clear</p> -<p class='line0'>  Falleth on stream, and tower, and tree,</p> -<p class='line0'>Again that soft low voice I hear</p> -<p class='line0'>  Murmuring its plaintive melody.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk107'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='151' id='Page_151'></span><h1><a id='sket'></a>SKETCHES OF LIFE IN OUR VILLAGE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>NO. II.—THE LAST SACRAMENT.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY GIFTIE.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even from his fairy-like and laughing boyhood, -George Atherton had been a dreamer. His soul seemed -like a harp whose chords were tuned in heaven, and -from which the rough winds of earth could draw forth -at best but a sad and broken melody. The spirit of -the Beautiful was given him at his birth, to be his constant -companion and unfailing friend. It walked with -him in his solitary rambles, it talked with him in his -lonely hours, it filled his dreams with high thoughts -and splendid imaginings. It led him to the solitude of -nature, and opened his eyes to behold the beauties of -this glorious creation, which even in rains bears the -stamp of the Divinity. And there, as his mind gradually -expanded, Religion came to him in the stillness of -life’s morning, and taught his fresh and unworn spirit -of the Highest and Holiest, by whom are all things, and -in whom all exist. To his child-like faith the Deity -was not a far off and incomprehensible mystery, but -an ever present all pervading spirit. In the thousand -voices that resound through this wide spread universe, -he heard an undertone—a low solemn voice, that said—“be -not afraid—it is I.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then as the youth grew to manhood, wrapt in -these high and glorious communings with Nature and -his God, the love which had hitherto filled his soul -with an unuttered melody sprang like lightning to his -lips, and he stood up before the world to tell what the -spirit of God should whisper him of Christ and his love -to the lost and guilty—of heaven and its inconceivable -glories. But even into the holy religion which he -preached he carried the ever-present spirit of Poetry, -while he neglected not to expound in a simple manner -the truths of the gospel, it was plain that he loved better -to soar upward into the regions of the vast and terrible -unknown where sits the Omnipotent clothed in his own -infinity. He roamed the vast field opened by revelation, -and culled the fairest flowers and the richest treasures -that he might lay them with his heart’s devotion -a willing offering upon the altar of the Almighty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Time went on, and a new class of emotions was -awakened in his breast. The love which before was -lavished on every thing beautiful in heaven or earth, -was turned into a new channel, centered upon one object; -and within his heart was a secret image that was -worshiped as second to naught save his God. The -moment that Emma came before him with her delicate -and ethereal loveliness, the spirit within him -whispered that that pale sweet face should be his destiny. -He listened to her voice and the echo of its -melody was thenceforth around him night and day, and -the very circumstance, that in a more worldly mind -would have quenched the first risings of affection by a -sense of its utter hopelessness, only served to draw him -more closely to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the brightness and in the gloom, in the sunshine -and beneath the radiance of the pale-browed queen of -night, since the gates of Eden closed on guilty man, -there has walked an angel over the earth. Amid the -green glades and flowery meads, beneath the mighty -forest trees and over the barren wastes, over the tossing -billows and within the crowded city, up the majestic -rivers and in the wild solitudes whence ariseth -the song of Nature untremulous and clear, has her footstep -passed and the light of her starry eye been seen. -In that “better land” she is the angel who waits without -the gate of the celestial city and opens it to the -holy and blessed ones who crowd thither. To them -she seems bright and beautiful, and her voice hath an -echo of the songs of heaven, but on earth she wears a -more sombre garb, and her eye hath a shade of gloom -far in its misty depths, and men call her the angel of -Death. This angel had for months been walking with -Emma, step for step, along the path of life, and sealing -with her icy touch the springs of existence. Before -George saw her, consumption had marked her for the -tomb. He knew it by the strange brightness of her -eyes and the hectic flush upon her cheek, and yet the -young pastor loved her</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>          —As one might love a star</p> -<p class='line0'>The brightest where ten thousand are</p> -<p class='line0'>          Sadly and silently,</p> -<p class='line0'>Without a hope or scarce a wish</p> -<p class='line0'>That she would link her fate with his</p> -<p class='line0'>          Along life’s dreary way.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>They stood together beneath the free blue sunny -sky. His high brow was flushed, and his whole frame -quivered with the impetuous emotions that would no -longer be controlled, and even in their hopelessness -had uttered the words that might never be recalled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She listened silently, and when at length she raised -her dark blue eyes to his they were filled with tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you thought well ere you told me this?” -she said in a low tremulous tone. “Know you that if -you would unite your fate with mine you must turn -from the glad pathway of life, and tread a dark lone -valley that leads to a shadowy bourne <a id='where'></a>where we must -part? Know you that the radiance of youth and health -has long since faded from my path, and of all my expectations -there remains but one—that one is Death—and -of all my hopes, only the hope of heaven. However -dearly you may love me, I can never be wholly -yours—even now I am wedded to another—I am the -bride of the Grave.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have known it all—I have felt it all. I know -that love’s highest boon may be but to catch the last -look, the last sigh—yet even with this certainty that -love is dearer to me than ought else on earth. I ask -<span class='pageno' title='152' id='Page_152'></span> -for nothing but to hear you say that I am beloved—I -dare expect nothing but to watch with you the fleeting -of the few months that remain to you on earth, and as -you stand beneath the portals of the grave to receive -one last assurance of undying affection as they close -between us—one promise that you will be mine—mine -still, in heaven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yet I would not have it so,” said she musingly. -“Why should I throw the shadow of the tomb over -your path? Why should I chill your blood with the -cold touch of death? No, no, George, leave me, and -since you cannot forget, think of me but as an angel in -heaven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But even as she spoke her voice grew fainter and -fainter, and when she ceased she sunk upon his breast -exhausted by the struggle of feelings too strong for a -form so frail. He bent over her—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Once, only once, thou only beloved—only once -say that thou art mine,” he murmured in low thrilling -tones.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She raised her face, and their eyes met in a long -earnest gaze. Then slowly and tremblingly her white -lips opened—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thine, thine forever.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk108'/> - -<p class='pindent'>He knew that she was dying day by day, and yet he -talked to his own heart of life and hope, as if he deemed -in the madness of his devotion that such love as theirs -would ward off death. And as time passed on we saw -his form grow thin, and his pale face yet paler, and his -dark eyes were dimmed as if he had looked too long -and earnestly into the darkness and tears that overhang -the grave. But she—there was a fierce and unnatural -glow upon her cheek that told of the deadly fire -within, and her step became slow and faltering, but the -clear light of her eloquent eyes grew brighter and -brighter as if she had looked through the gloomy clouds -of death upon the unspeakable glory of God, and in -gazing had forgotten how to weep. Thus in that hour -did the fair and fragile become the support of the -strong-hearted ones who, for her sake, were bowed to -the earth with sorrow. Her love was no summer -flower to wither beneath the shadows of the dark valley—and -they who wondered at its strength knew not -that it was fed with dews from the river of Life, and -nourished with the sunshine of the world beyond the -tomb.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the day for the celebration of the sacrament -in our church at C——, and at her earnest request -Emma was permitted to be with us on this occasion—perchance -the last for her on earth. For some time -she had been failing rapidly, and it was now evident -to all that her pilgrimage was nearly finished. She entered -when the afternoon service was over, walking -slowly between her aged and heart-stricken parents. -The young pastor did not lift his head, but sat with his -face buried in his hands till all was still again. He was -gathering strength to appear before the people of his -charge as became a minister of God, that he might not -appear to preach to them of a sustaining grace that had -failed to help him in his hour of need.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he arose his face was very pale, but all trace -of emotion had vanished. All human affection incompatible -with the Divine will seemed to have died -within him, and he stood calmly and firmly up, and -clasped his hands to pray. Long and earnest was that -petition, and its burden was the cry of a suffering -heart, “Not my will, oh God, but thine.” When it -was ended, then were distributed the emblems of the -sacred body that was broken, and the blood that was -shed for man’s salvation, and again the pastor rose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At first he spoke in low tones of the Lamb of God -who gave himself to die for man, and of the efficacy of -that death; but his voice rose with the theme, his -eyes kindled, and his cheeks flushed as he proceeded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Since I sat here, beloved friends, I have had communion -with the Father of Spirits. I seem to see the -blessed Redeemer on the night in which he was betrayed, -when he took the bread and brake it among his -disciples. I see his glorious yet mournful face as he -bade them keep this holy festival in memory of him. -He knew that before the next evening the Son of God -would have been laid, a bound and bleeding victim, -upon the altar of man’s transgressions. Ay! before -the morrow he must have offered up the atoning sacrifice -that was to take away the sins of the whole world—to -open the healing fountain whose waters should -mingle with the stream of Death and take away its -bitterness. He knew all the terrors of that fearful -night in the garden—the bloody sweat, the buffeting, -the ignominy, the agonizing death, were all before -him. Conceive his feelings as he sat among that chosen -band, as he met the earnest gaze of the loved one who -lay in his bosom, and heard the eager, tremulous question, -‘Lord is it I?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see him when the betrayer had left the disciples, -lead them forth into the garden, where even they who -had sworn to die for him could not watch with him one -hour—when as he knelt alone beneath the olive trees -he heard from afar the clash of arms and the shoutings -of the mob that came to take him. I hear the thrilling -agony of his mighty heart, as sinking beneath the -weight of a world’s iniquity, he cries—‘If this cup may -not pass from me, thy will be done.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The scene is changed. Behold I see the clouds -parted and the veil which hides the awful future is -withdrawn. I see heaven opened, and he who agonized -in the garden and bled upon the cross, cometh -in the clouds, and with him those faithful ones who in -all ages of the world have feared not to follow him, -even unto death. The brightness of his Father’s glory -is around him, and the affrighted earth shrinks away -from his presence—‘Behold he cometh in the clouds, -and every eye shall see him, and they also who pierced -him, and they shall wail because of him. And the -heavens shall depart as a scroll, and the elements shall -melt with fervent heat—the sun shall be darkened and -the moon shall not give her light,’ and the whole earth -shall be offered as a burnt sacrifice to the terrible glory -of God.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shout then, ye little flock!—ye chosen ones from -the foundation of the world! Lift up your eyes to the -celestial city, and lo! the pearly gates are unbarred—enter -into Paradise, and join the choral hymn that is -chanted before the throne, for worthy is He who hath -redeemed you, to receive glory and endless praise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='153' id='Page_153'></span> -“The vision hath passed, but the voice of God -within me answereth, ‘He that overcometh shall inherit -the kingdom.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And oh! my brethren, what entire sacrifice of ourselves -should we give to him who for our sakes condescended -to become incarnate. What obstacle should -hinder us when we remember that such is our reward. -We journey on through this valley of sunshine and -tears, our hearts are fettered with the strong ties of -earthly love, and we joy and sorrow, hope and fear, as -do those who have no support but their own strength—that -broken reed that pierces the breast that leans on -it. But to our vision there is one bright spot, though -earth may be dim around us; there is one hope when -all other hopes fail, one refuge when tempests assail -us, one friend who will never die.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The pastor paused and gazed mournfully on the group -before him. Emma was sitting with her bright beautiful -eyes raised upward, while the smile on her parted -lips, and the rapt expression of her face, showed that -borne on the wings of faith, and the hope of that unutterable -glory, she had forgotten this mortal existence, -and was communing with her kindred angels. When -he spoke again, it was in a lower tone, and his voice -trembled slightly for he was but a man, and now that -the excitement had passed, his heart filled with a -boundless affection for that pale young creature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And should not this hope comfort you, oh ye who -have so often been sorely tried, and who must now -again be called to look through tears up to your Father’s -throne, while she who leaves you tears the tendrils -of your hearts from earth, that she may fix them -with the grasp of an all-conquering faith upon the altar -of God. Mourn yet not, as comfortless—‘whom the -Lord loveth he chasteneth.’ Lift up your eyes from -this earthly dust to that celestial home where ye shall -dwell forever—‘in your Father’s house are many -mansions,’ and your Redeemer has said, ‘I go to prepare -a place for you.’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he spoke these last words a long, deep, thrilling -sigh, that seemed to bear upon it the anguish of a breaking -heart, broke from the mother’s lips, and drawing nearer -to Emma, she clasped her arms around her as if she -feared she would go even then from her embrace. -The action and the sigh drew Emma from the height -to which her sublime thoughts had soared. She turned -suddenly, and a change passed over her beaming face -as she looked upon her parents. Her father had bowed -his head upon his hands, and his aged frame shook -with suppressed sobs. Both had forgotten time, place, -every thing but that she was their last, their only one, -and the thought that came more than ever to their -hearts, that she must leave them. Emma wiped the -tears from her mother’s face and strove to speak, but -the reaction of feeling was too great for her feeble -frame to endure; she became violently agitated, a faintness -came over her, and starting from her seat, she fell -forward into her mother’s arms gasping for breath.</p> - -<hr class='tbk109'/> - -<p class='pindent'>Night, solemn and holy! How infinite was the -mercy that gave thee to spread thy star-spangled mantle -over the tired earth, hushing to repose its misery, -and hiding its crime. Night, pure and beautiful! The -fitting time for the soul of the innocent to ascend to a -better land.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Midnight had chimed on the old church clock, and -the whole world seemed sleeping as if bound by a -spell. The stars were looking down from the far off -heavens, and the large moon was sinking behind the -long low clouds in the west, gilding leaf and fountain -with its brightness, and shedding a holy radiance on -the face of the dying girl. Emma was reclining on a -low couch by the open window, and save the low -sighing of the wind all was still in that room of death. -The agony of suffering that all day had racked her -frame, was now passed away, and she lay in a calm -slumber, with her head upon her mother’s bosom. -George Atherton knelt beside the couch with her hands -clasped in his, and her father stood near, silent beneath -the pressure of a wo too deep for tears. The last hour -had come—they knew that she was dying.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Is it not ever thus? The loveliest, the most utterly -beloved are ever the first to leave us. Those on whom -we most leaned for support and comfort during this -earth-pilgrimage are ever the first victims to the unerring -shaft of death. And <span class='it'>it is well</span>. Fondly as I have -loved and deeply as I have mourned for the dead, I feel -that it is well. “The branches are lopped off that the -tree may fail the easier.” The prop to which we clung -is torn away that the bleeding tendrils of these wrung -hearts may wind themselves more closely around the -Rock of Ages. The <a id='cord'></a>cords that bound the spirit to -earth are severed, that its flight may be unimpeded toward -that heavenly city, that New Jerusalem, where -God shall wipe away all tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How shall I tell of the parting—the <span class='it'>final</span> parting. -How shall mortal language describe the triumph of -stern relentless Death over the love of human hearts. -He who sitteth in his calm glory above the reach of -earthly sorrow—He to whose bosom that cherished -one is now departed—He alone can tell the anguish of -that trial.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She left them. She who had been the sunlight of -their existence, turned from them, and meekly and -cheerfully trod the lone valley of Death. But she had -listened to “the spoken words,” she had caught a -glimpse of the glories of her heavenly home, she had -heard a faint echo of the harpings of an immortal hymn, -and she raised her eyes with glad faith to the throne of -the Eternal, and leaning on the arm of her beloved she -entered into her rest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When morning came over the laughing earth, the -light looked into that still chamber tremblingly, as if it -feared to break the solemn gloom. Still they remained -there—those pale watchers beside the dead—and with -her head yet leaning on her mother’s breast, and a -faint smile upon her parted lips, lay the cold lifeless -form of the beautiful one who had gone from them forever. -That dying smile—it beamed upon their hearts -like sunlight from heaven. It was the seal of Love’s -triumph, of the soul’s immortality, and told of a reunion -beyond the grave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Not long did those aged and lonely parents survive -her. Gently and easily they were called unto their -celestial home. And for him who had so loved her—still -he wanders on the earth, working his Master’s -<span class='pageno' title='154' id='Page_154'></span> -will, lonely yet not desolate. He shut his heart above -that deep and quiet sorrow, as above a shrine whose -lifeless ashes might never be rekindled by the fire of -earthly love. Of Emma and of her early death, few -ever heard him speak, but all who saw him, knew that -the hopes and affections which engross the heart of -man had been forever torn from his, and that amid -the changes of his career his calm soul lifted its -thoughts upward to the heaven of heavens where <span class='it'>she</span> -now dwells, with an eager and imploring cry—“how -long, oh Lord—how long.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk110'/> - -<div><h1><a id='angel'></a>THE ANGEL’S VISIT.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. S. ANNA LEWIS.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>One December evening cold,</p> -<p class='line0'>Filled with sorrows manifold,</p> -<p class='line0'>To the sere and sallow wold</p> -<p class='line0'>With an elfin step I stole,</p> -<p class='line0'>To hold converse with my soul</p> -<p class='line0'>Of the loved and lost of yore,</p> -<p class='line0'>Dwelling on the shadowy shore—</p> -<p class='line0'>            The Spirit-shore.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Very lonely was my breast—</p> -<p class='line0'>On that night no genial guest</p> -<p class='line0'>By its hearth-stone paused to rest;</p> -<p class='line0'>Dim the lamp of Hope did gleam</p> -<p class='line0'>O’er my young heart’s darkened stream;</p> -<p class='line0'>And I sought from mystic store</p> -<p class='line0'>In that lamp new oil to pour—</p> -<p class='line0'>            Fresh oil to pour.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Dark and drear and desolate,</p> -<p class='line0'>On a mossy crag I sate,</p> -<p class='line0'>Watching through the heavenly gate</p> -<p class='line0'>Many a solemn Angel-band</p> -<p class='line0'>Marching to the Spirit-land,</p> -<p class='line0'>When Love tapping on the door</p> -<p class='line0'>Of my heart, did there implore—</p> -<p class='line0'>            A Home implore.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Trembling, shivering, timid-hearted,</p> -<p class='line0'>From that holy dream I started,</p> -<p class='line0'>As a ghost of the departed</p> -<p class='line0'>From the gates of light had drifted,</p> -<p class='line0'>And with icy fingers lifted</p> -<p class='line0'>Up the latchet of the door</p> -<p class='line0'>Of my doating heart once more—</p> -<p class='line0'>            Ah me! once more!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Then aside I dashed the tear,</p> -<p class='line0'>Lower bent my mental ear,</p> -<p class='line0'>More distinct the taps to hear,</p> -<p class='line0'>And all <a id='thou'></a>thoughtless did begin</p> -<p class='line0'>To tell Love to enter in.</p> -<p class='line0'>When an Angel sought this shore</p> -<p class='line0'>To defeat him at the door—</p> -<p class='line0'>            My lone heart’s door.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Low his golden tresses streaming</p> -<p class='line0'>O’er his wings with soul-light beaming,</p> -<p class='line0'>Perched he down amid my dreaming,</p> -<p class='line0'>Perching, sat ere I could rise.</p> -<p class='line0'>Gazing full into my eyes,</p> -<p class='line0'>As my soul he would explore—</p> -<p class='line0'>And this Cupid by the door—</p> -<p class='line0'>            My lone heart’s door.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Calmly then the Angel spoke,</p> -<p class='line0'>Words that o’er my spirit broke,</p> -<p class='line0'>Like the chimes in dream-land woke—</p> -<p class='line0'>“Sad, meek solitaire of earth,</p> -<p class='line0'>Loving, trusting from thy birth—</p> -<p class='line0'>Soul that heavenward dost soar!</p> -<p class='line0'>Turn this traitor from the door—</p> -<p class='line0'>            Thy lone heart’s door.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“In thy breast he seeks no home—</p> -<p class='line0'>From the blithest he will roam;</p> -<p class='line0'>He will enter the heart’s dome,</p> -<p class='line0'>Filch its every jewel fair,</p> -<p class='line0'>Plant his barbed arrow there,</p> -<p class='line0'>And then straight go out the door,</p> -<p class='line0'>Back returning never more—</p> -<p class='line0'>            Ah, never more!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Search the chronicles of love,</p> -<p class='line0'>See the nets that he has wove,</p> -<p class='line0'>To entrap the timid Dove;</p> -<p class='line0'>See in Lethe’s crowded domes</p> -<p class='line0'>Ashes of his hecatombs;</p> -<p class='line0'>And I wot thou’lt keep the door</p> -<p class='line0'>Of thy heart locked evermore—</p> -<p class='line0'>            Forever more.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Blossoms in thy heart may bloom,</p> -<p class='line0'>E’en while Love hath there his home,</p> -<p class='line0'>But their roots are in the tomb;</p> -<p class='line0'>And the tramp of funeral-feet</p> -<p class='line0'>Lone thy spirit’s ear will greet,</p> -<p class='line0'>When too late to lock the door</p> -<p class='line0'>Of thy heart forever more—</p> -<p class='line0'>            Ah, evermore!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Therefore, mournful child of song,</p> -<p class='line0'>Leave Love to the heartless throng,</p> -<p class='line0'>Who can cope with wo and wrong;</p> -<p class='line0'>Pour thy soul’s surcharge of fire</p> -<p class='line0'>On an altar holier, higher,</p> -<p class='line0'>And let Reason keep the door</p> -<p class='line0'>Of thy fond heart evermore—</p> -<p class='line0'>            Forever more.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>When the Angel this had said,</p> -<p class='line0'>Out his burnished wings he spread,</p> -<p class='line0'>And above the tree-tops sped;</p> -<p class='line0'>Upward, upward, where the moon</p> -<p class='line0'>Floated in her cloudy noon,</p> -<p class='line0'>Leaving me to guard the door</p> -<p class='line0'>Of my heart forever more—</p> -<p class='line0'>            Ah, evermore!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But this heart would not obey</p> -<p class='line0'>What the missioned sprite did say—</p> -<p class='line0'>It would have its willful way;</p> -<p class='line0'>It made Love its chiefest guest,</p> -<p class='line0'>Till he banished Peace and Rest,</p> -<p class='line0'>When he straight went out the door,</p> -<p class='line0'>Locking Wo in evermore—</p> -<p class='line0'>            Ah, evermore!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk111'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='155' id='Page_155'></span><h1><a id='legend'></a>LEGEND</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>OF THE INTRODUCTION OF DEATH, AND ORIGIN OF THE MEDICINE WORSHIP AMONG THE OGIBWAS.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY KAH-GE-GA-GAH-BOWH.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The period of time which preceded the introduction -of death and evil into the country of the -Indians, is represented to have been one which the -most fanciful imagination might suggest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this late day the son of the forest speaks of it -with deep feeling, and sighs for its return.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The following was related to me in a wigwam in -which I spent about fifteen years of my early life. It -constituted a part of a lecture I received during the -ceremony of initiation into the order of the Mysterious -Worship of the Medicine Lodge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Keshamoradoo made the red men, he made -them happy. The men were larger, were fleeter on -foot, were more dexterous in games, and lived to an -older age than now.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The forest abounded with game, the trees were -loaded with fruit, and birds who have now a black -plumage were dressed with pure white. The birds -and the fowls ate no flesh, for the wide prairies were -covered with fruits and vegetables. The fish in the -waters were large. The Moredoo from heaven -watched the blaze of the wigwams’ fires, and these -were as countless as the stars in the sky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Strange visitants from heaven descended every -few days, and inquired of the Indians whether any -thing was wrong. Finding them happy and contented, -they returned to their high homes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These were tutelar gods, and they consulted with -the sages of the different villages, and advised all not -to climb a vine which grew on the earth, and whose -top reached the sky, as it was the ladder on which the -spirits descended from heaven to earth, to bless the -red men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One of these errand-spirits became intimate with -one of the young braves, who dwelt in a cabin with -his grandmother, and favored him with invitations to -stroll with it among the various villages around.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The favor shown by this god to the young man produced -a jealousy among his brethren, and during the -absence of his distinguished friend, the favored one -was much troubled by his neighbors, who envied him -his situation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On one occasion when this persecution became intolerable, -he determined to leave his country, and, if -possible, accompany the spirit to the skies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The chief men had enjoined on all the duty to refrain -from any desire or any attempt to ascend the vine -whose branches reached the heavens, telling them -that to do so would bring upon them severe penalties.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The spirit finding the young man quite sad, inquired, -learned the true cause of his sorrow, and taking him, -reascended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old woman cried for his return, “Noo-sis, be-ge-wain, -be-ge-wain.” “My child, come back, come -back!” He would not come home, and the woman -having adjusted all her matters in the lodge, after the -nightfall repaired to the vine and began to ascend it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the morning the Indians found the lodge she had -inhabited empty, and soon espied her climbing the -vine. They shouted to her, “Hoision shay! ah-wos -be-ge-wain, mah-je-me-di—moo-ga-yiesh!” “Holloa, -come back, you old witch you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But she continued ascending, up, up, up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A council was held to determine what inducement -could be made to her to return. They could hear her -sobbing for her grandson. “Ne-gah-wah-bah-mah -nos-sis.” “I will yet see my child.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Consternation and fear filled the hearts of the nation, -for one of their number was disobeying the Great Spirit. -Indignation and fury were seen in the acts of the -warriors, and the light of the transgressor’s burning -wigwam shed its lurid rays around.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman was just nearing the top of the vine -which was entwined around one of the stars of heaven, -and about entering that place, when the vine broke, and -down she came, with the broken vine which had before -been the ladder of communication between heaven -and earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The nations, as they passed by her, as she sat in the -midst of the ruin she had wrought, pushed her declining -head, saying, “Whah, ke nah mah dah bee -mage men di moo ya yilsh.” “There you sit, you -wicked old witch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some kicked her, others dragged her by her hair, -and thus expressed their disapprobation. All who -shall live after thee, shall call thee <span class='it'>Equa</span> (woman).</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The news of the disaster spread rapidly from village -to village. Soon numbers of men, women, and children -were singularly affected. Some complained of -pains in their heads, and others of pains in various -parts of their bodies. Some were unable to walk, -and others equally unable to speak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They thought some of these fell asleep, for they -knew not what death was. They had never seen its -presence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A deep solemnity began its reign in all the villages. -There was no more hunting, no more games, and no -song was sung to soothe the sun to its evening rest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ah, it was then a penalty followed transgression. -<span class='pageno' title='156' id='Page_156'></span> -Disease was the consequence of the breaking of the -vine. Death followed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One day, in the midst of their distresses, they consulted -each other to determine what could be done. -None knew.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They watched carefully for the descent of those -beings who used to visit them—and at length they -came. Eagerly each strove to tell his story. They -soon found that the strangers were silent and sad. -They asked the natives what words they wished to -tell the Great Spirit in their distress. One said that -the vine might be replaced. Another that the Great -Spirit might cause the disease to leave them. Another -wanted to kill the old woman. Another desired -plenty of game; and another wished the Great Spirit -to send them something that would cure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After this the strangers left, telling the Indians to -wait, and they should know what the Great Spirit -should say.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Each day of their absence seemed a month; at -length they came, and gathering around, the eager -people said to them that they must all die, as the vine -that connected earth to the skies was broken, but the -Great Spirit has sent us to relieve you, and to tell you -what you must do hereafter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The strangers then gathered all the wild flowers -from the plains, and after drying them on their hands, -blew the leaves with their breath, and they were scattered -all over the earth; wherever they fell they sprung -up and became herbs to cure all disease.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Indians instituted a dance, and with it a mode -of worship. These few were the first who composed -the Great Medicine Lodge, and they did so from the -hands of the Great Spirit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is not a flower that buds that is not for some -wise purpose, however small. There is not one blade -of grass that the Indian requires not. Learning this, -and acting in view of it, will be for your good, and -will please the Great Spirit.</p> - -<hr class='tbk112'/> - -<div><h1><a id='lily2'></a>LILY LESLIE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>A BALLAD.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY GRETTA.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Bonny Lily Leslie roved</p> -<p class='line0'>  Down among the heather.</p> -<p class='line0'>In a clear and sunny day</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of the summer weather.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Something seemed to cloud her brow</p> -<p class='line0'>  Mingling with it gladness,</p> -<p class='line0'>Half the look betrayed a wish,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The other half was sadness.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>By the brooklet’s flashing course</p> -<p class='line0'>  Then she stopped to ponder—</p> -<p class='line0'>Why did Lily look so sad?</p> -<p class='line0'>  Why so lonely wander!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Did she gaze within the stream</p> -<p class='line0'>  At the form reflected?</p> -<p class='line0'>Was her fancy pleased to see</p> -<p class='line0'>  What she there detected?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Did she note her sportive curls,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Did she try to twine them,</p> -<p class='line0'>As the saucy breeze untied</p> -<p class='line0'>  The snood that would confine them?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Did she mark her rounded cheek</p> -<p class='line0'>  Warm with youth’s bright dawning,</p> -<p class='line0'>Soft as sunlight on the snow</p> -<p class='line0'>  In a winter’s morning?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Did she count the summer’s o’er</p> -<p class='line0'>  Since she watched them flying?</p> -<p class='line0'>Sixteen times had known them come,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Sixteen mourned them dying.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Was she thinking how at home</p> -<p class='line0'>  In her mountain shealing,</p> -<p class='line0'>She unseals her father’s heart,</p> -<p class='line0'>  All its love revealing?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>How she nestles in his arms</p> -<p class='line0'>  When he says he’s lonely,</p> -<p class='line0'>Tells him he must love her well</p> -<p class='line0'>  Because he has her only!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>No! I’m sure that none of these</p> -<p class='line0'>  Made the lassie wander—</p> -<p class='line0'>Then why did Lily walk alone,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Why did Lily ponder?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Why did Lily sit her down</p> -<p class='line0'>  Mute as Sorrow’s daughter,</p> -<p class='line0'>With her little blue veined feet</p> -<p class='line0'>  Shining through the water?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Why was Lily’s voice not heard</p> -<p class='line0'>  ’Mid the brooklets laughter,</p> -<p class='line0'><a id='carol'></a>Caroling like free-born bird</p> -<p class='line0'>  With echo babbling after?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Stealing softly through the shade</p> -<p class='line0'>  I heard what she was saying,</p> -<p class='line0'>And a rare complaint indeed</p> -<p class='line0'>  The maiden was betraying.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>She was sighing, “Would that God</p> -<p class='line0'>  —Ere he took my mother—</p> -<p class='line0'>Had given me, like Mary Hill,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A darling, darling <span class='it'>brother</span>!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“How proud that Mary Hill appears,</p> -<p class='line0'>  When Harry comes from sea,</p> -<p class='line0'>But I have none to wish returned,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And none to come to me.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“The old man in our little home</p> -<p class='line0'>  Might then forget my mother,</p> -<p class='line0'>And when he died would know me safe—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Oh that I had a brother!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“A brother! Lily,” soft I said—</p> -<p class='line0'>  As springing to her side</p> -<p class='line0'>I caught her, like a startled fawn</p> -<p class='line0'>  Just bounding o’er the tide—</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“A brother! Lily, sit thee down</p> -<p class='line0'>  And <span class='it'>I</span> will be thy brother;</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='pageno' title='157' id='Page_157'></span></p> -<p class='line0'>Dost thou not know, since thine is dead,</p> -<p class='line0'>  That thou may’st choose another?”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>She laid her rosy palm in mine,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The artless little fairy,</p> -<p class='line0'>And said, “Dear Harry, may I be,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Your sister, just like Mary?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“May I watch to see you come,</p> -<p class='line0'>  May I run to meet you—</p> -<p class='line0'>May I do the thousand things</p> -<p class='line0'>  Mary does to greet you!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>We sat us down beside the hill</p> -<p class='line0'>  Broad shadowed by the mountain,</p> -<p class='line0'>And there we talked the matter o’er,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Beside the gurgling fountain.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And when the golden sun went down,</p> -<p class='line0'>  She promised, as I kissed her,</p> -<p class='line0'>That she would ever, ever be</p> -<p class='line0'>  My darling, dearest <span style='font-size:smaller'>SISTER</span>!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Then a thousand plans she told—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of course none could miscarry—</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh! she was so happy now,</p> -<p class='line0'>  She had a brother Harry!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But my heart was beating wild</p> -<p class='line0'>  Ever since I kissed her,</p> -<p class='line0'>And in vain it tried to say</p> -<p class='line0'>  “Love her as a <span style='font-size:smaller'>SISTER</span>!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Softly then I bent me down—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Now the stars were shining—</p> -<p class='line0'>And my arm around her waist</p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Brother</span>ly was twining—</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Sister, there is one thing more</p> -<p class='line0'>  I’ll tell thee while we tarry;</p> -<p class='line0'>Lily, <span class='it'>brothers</span> go away,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Darling, <span class='it'>brothers</span> marry!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Thou wilt be alone again</p> -<p class='line0'>  For thy Harry’s going—</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Sisters</span> may not keep me here,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Though their tears be flowing.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Lily! hast thou never heard</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of a bond more tender,</p> -<p class='line0'>For which the heart a brother’s love</p> -<p class='line0'>  A sister’s would surrender?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Such the spell that binds me now,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Dearest mountain flower,</p> -<p class='line0'>And I’ve given all my soul</p> -<p class='line0'>  To its gentle power!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Dost thou hear me, Lily, love?</p> -<p class='line0'>  Shall I longer tarry?</p> -<p class='line0'>Darling <span style='font-size:smaller'>BROTHERS</span> <span class='it'>go away</span>,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Dearest <span style='font-size:smaller'>BROTHERS</span> <span class='it'>marry</span>!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Lily Leslie bent her head,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like a dew-wet blossom,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the tears were falling fast</p> -<p class='line0'>  O’er her heaving bosom.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>What she sobbed I may not tell—</p> -<p class='line0'>  What I answered to her;</p> -<p class='line0'>I only know the night grew dark</p> -<p class='line0'>  On maiden and on wooer.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>When the moon was sailing high</p> -<p class='line0'>  She knelt within the shealing;</p> -<p class='line0'>I beside the old man’s couch</p> -<p class='line0'>  Was all the tale revealing.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Soon he laid his aged hands</p> -<p class='line0'>  Tremblingly upon us,</p> -<p class='line0'>And I heard his fervent voice</p> -<p class='line0'>  Pray for blessings on us.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Lily laughed with merry heart</p> -<p class='line0'>  As she kissed her <span style='font-size:smaller'>BROTHER</span>,</p> -<p class='line0'>“<span class='sc'>Husbands</span> need not go away,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Need not love another.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Now within her mountain home</p> -<p class='line0'>  Long we’ve lived together,</p> -<p class='line0'>And my rovings since are all</p> -<p class='line0'>  With her, in summer weather.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And so happy have I been,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I ne’er wished another,</p> -<p class='line0'>Nor have heard my Lily since</p> -<p class='line0'>  Pine to have a—<span class='sc'>Brother</span>!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk113'/> - -<div><h1><a id='toa'></a>TO A PORTRAIT.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. H. MARION STEPHENS.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>’Tis so like life that I could gaze</p> -<p class='line0'>  For aye upon that face,</p> -<p class='line0'>As pilgrim scans, with uplift soul,</p> -<p class='line0'>  His spirit-resting place.</p> -<p class='line0'>The brow so calm and passionless—</p> -<p class='line0'>  The eye so purely bright—</p> -<p class='line0'>As if its every glance was full</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of peace and holy light!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>They haunt me wheresoe’er I turn,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Those lustrous eyes of thine,</p> -<p class='line0'>Although their pleasant smile may rest</p> -<p class='line0'>  Oh never more on mine!</p> -<p class='line0'>Ah weary—very weary ’tis</p> -<p class='line0'>  To look so long on thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>To love, to worship, yet to know</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy thoughts are far from me.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And yet I would not have thee mine;</p> -<p class='line0'>  My heart with such excess</p> -<p class='line0'>Of joy would break beneath the spell</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of its own blissfulness!</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh no, I do not crave thy love;</p> -<p class='line0'>  I only ask to be</p> -<p class='line0'>A simple floweret in thy path</p> -<p class='line0'>  While thou art <span class='it'>all</span> to me!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Who would not weep should never love!</p> -<p class='line0'>  A term of weary years</p> -<p class='line0'>Is love’s best boon to human hearts—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Its brightest guerdon—<span class='it'>tears</span>!</p> -<p class='line0'>I would not have it cast for me</p> -<p class='line0'>  A shadow on thy heart,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or cloud one single ray of thine,</p> -<p class='line0'>  All glorious as thou art!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>No—rather let my spirit kneel</p> -<p class='line0'>  As to some distant star,</p> -<p class='line0'>Whose light illumines my sad soul</p> -<p class='line0'>  From its bright home afar:</p> -<p class='line0'>And while its beams may gladden those</p> -<p class='line0'>  More deeply—wildly blest,</p> -<p class='line0'>One truant gleam may haply come</p> -<p class='line0'>  To lull my soul’s unrest!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk114'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='158' id='Page_158'></span><h1><a id='love'></a>LOVE TESTS OF HALLOWEEN.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY T. S. ARTHUR.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:0.9em;'>[SEE ENGRAVINGS.]</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The eve of All Saint’s Day is memorable in Scotland -as a time when the fairies hold a grand anniversary, -and when witches and evil beings are abroad on -errands of mischief. This superstition, modified in -various ways, finds a place also among the peasantry -of other nations. In the United States, Halloween -used to be observed by country maidens as a time for -trying sweethearts, and gaining such an intelligible -peep into futurity as would enable them to find out -whether they would be married or not; and if that -happy event was to crown their lives, who would be -the man of their choice. And even at this time, -“Hallow-Eve,” as it is called, is not suffered to come -and go without the effort of some loving maidens to -penetrate the mystery of their matrimonial future. -The modes of trying sweethearts, and the various -love tests applied, are curious enough. Burning nuts, -the love-candle, eating an apple before the looking-glass -at midnight, the salt egg, and dropping melted lead -through a key into a basin of water, are a few of them, -and all must be accompanied by particular ceremonies -or incantations, in order that they may have the desired -power to lift the veil of futurity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few years ago we spent Halloween in the family -of a friend who resides fifty miles away from any large -town in the interior of Pennsylvania. He had three -marriageable daughters, who, it may be presumed, felt -as much interest in the great question of matrimony as -is usual in girls of their ages; and, on the occasion referred -to, something of what they thought and felt was -clearly enough displayed. One member of this family -was an old aunt, whose kind, gentle character and -cheerful disposition, made her a favorite with all. -She was a widow. Twenty years had gone by since -the grass became green over the grave of her husband. -She often referred to the past, but not in a spirit of -sadness or regret. And when she spoke of her husband, -the allusion seemed more to one who was living -than dead. And living, in fact, he was to her. The -deep affection that was in her heart, made him ever -present to her thoughts, and she lived in full confidence -of a re-union when she, too, should lay off the mortal -robes that enveloped her spirit, and rise into a true and -substantial life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To be with Aunt Edith for half an hour, was to feel -toward her as toward an old friend. In less than that -time, on our first meeting, I was as much at home with -her as if we had been acquainted for years. For her -young nieces, Aunt Edith entertained the warmest -affection. It is doubtful if she could have loved her -own children more tenderly. She was ever ready to -take an interest in what interested them; and entered -into all their pleasures with a heartiness that made -them her own. On the evening to which I have referred, -as we sat pleasantly conversing before a bright -fire in the parlor, almost the first of the season, Aunt -Edith said, as if the thought had just occurred to her, -addressing, as she spoke, the oldest of her nieces,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, Maggy, dear, this is Hallow-Eve. Have -you forgotten?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So it is!” cried Maggy, in return, clapping her -hands together with girlish enthusiasm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallow-Eve!” chimed in Kate, the youngest of the -three. “Oh, we must try sweethearts to-night!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sweethearts!” said Mr. Wilmot, the father of the -girls, in a grave voice. “Nonsense! Nonsense, child! -What do you want to know about sweethearts?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate slightly blushed, but her smile was so radiant, -that it quickly extinguished the deeper hue that had -come over her bright, young countenance. She did -not, however, reply to her father’s question, but looked -into the face of Aunt Edith for encouragement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait awhile, dear,” said Aunt Edith, “your -father don’t understand these matters. But I was a -young girl once, and know all about them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Trying sweethearts! Why I thought that custom -was peculiar only to the Scotch and Irish peasantry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aunt Edith looked at me and smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In cities,” she replied, “these customs are hardly -known, but here they have always prevailed among -portions of the people. Halloween, though not kept -with the formality attending the occasion in the rural -districts of Ireland or Scotland, is yet remembered by -hundreds of young maidens who live far away from -the great towns, and who improve the occasion to get, -if possible, a peep into futurity, and read therein an -answer to their heart’s eager questions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can it really be,” said I, in return, “that superstition -like this prevails in an age and among a people -so enlightened. Fortune-tellers would find a rich -harvest in these regions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not richer, I presume,” returned Aunt Edith, -“than among your more enlightened dwellers in -cities.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“True, we have fortune-tellers and astrologers in -abundance, and they appear to find enough silly people -to encourage and support them. But what is the -nature of these love tests that so many of your country -maidens apply on Hallow-Eve?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aunt Edith smiled as she answered,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are of various kinds. Among the most -common is burning nuts on the hearth. A young -maiden will take two nuts, and naming one for the -man who is, or whom she would like to have for her -sweetheart, and the other for herself, she puts them in -the fire, and accordingly as they burn quietly together, -or start from beside one another, will be the future -relation toward each other by the lad and lassie. -Don’t you remember these verses in Burns’ “Halloween”:</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='pageno' title='159' id='Page_159'></span></p> -<p class='line0'>The auld guidwife’s well hoordit nits</p> -<p class='line0'>  Are round an’ round divided</p> -<p class='line0'>An’ monie lads’ an’ lassies’ fates</p> -<p class='line0'>  Are there that night decided;</p> -<p class='line0'>Some kindle, couthie,<a id='r1'/><a href='#f1' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[1]</span></sup></a> side by side,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And burn thegither trimly;</p> -<p class='line0'>Some start awa’ with saucy pride,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And jump out ower the chimlie</p> -<p class='line0'>            Fu’ high that night.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Jean slips in twa wi’ tentie e’e,<a id='r2'/><a href='#f2' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[2]</span></sup></a></p> -<p class='line0'>  Wha ’twas she wadna tell;</p> -<p class='line0'>But this is <span class='it'>Jock</span>, an’ this is <span class='it'>me</span>,</p> -<p class='line0'>  She says in to hersel;</p> -<p class='line0'>He bleezed ower her, an’ she ower him,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As they wad ne’er mair part!</p> -<p class='line0'>’Till fuff,<a id='r3'/><a href='#f3' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[3]</span></sup></a> he started up the lum,<a id='r4'/><a href='#f4' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[4]</span></sup></a></p> -<p class='line0'>  An’ Jean had e’en a sair heart</p> -<p class='line0'>            To see ’t that night.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_1'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f1'><a href='#r1'>[1]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Lovingly.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_2'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f2'><a href='#r2'>[2]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Watchful eye.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_3'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f3'><a href='#r3'>[3]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>With a puff or bounce.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_4'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f4'><a href='#r4'>[4]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Chimney.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<p class='pindent'>The girls were all listening with fixed attention, and -even Mr. Wilmot was interested.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This, as I remarked,” continued Aunt Edith, “is -one of the commonest modes of trying sweethearts. -There are many others, and some of them involve -ordeals that would make the stoutest nerves quiver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you ever try any of them?” I inquired, half -forgetting myself in asking so pointed a question.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps I have,” replied Aunt Edith, smilingly. -“A young maiden will go through a great deal, in -order to get some kind of an answer to a question that -so deeply involves her happiness. But you mus’n’t -expect me to make any confessions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh no, we wont ask that,” said I, “but you will -not object to relating some experiments of this kind -that you have known others make?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly not. When I was a young girl, a great -deal more attention was paid to the Eve of All Saints’ -Day than at present, and love-stricken lasses would -look forward for months for its arrival, in order to try -their sweethearts. You remember Lizzie Wells, -afterward Mrs. Jackson?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, very well,” replied Mr. Wilmot, to whom the -question was addressed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall never forget one of her attempts to raise the -spirit of her future spouse. Poor girl! It turned out -rather a serious matter for the time. She was a timid, -bashful thing, and was particularly sensitive when any -one jested with her about a sweetheart. It is usually -the case, that love charms are tried by at least two, -and sometimes three or four girls, in order that they -may brace up each other’s courage. But Lizzie had -no sister as a confidante, and there was no maiden of -her acquaintance to whom she would betray the -anxiety she felt on the momentous subject of love. So, -on Hallow-Eve she must try her sweetheart all alone, -or still remain in doubt. But doubt had pressed upon -her bosom until it could be borne no longer. As the -day that closed the month of October began to fade -into twilight, Lizzie’s resolution in regard to a certain -experiment, which had been strong when the bright -sun looked down from the sky, began to waver. -Clouds had heaved themselves up in the west, and the -cold autumn wind began to moan among the old forest -trees. The young girl felt a creeping shudder pass -through her frame, as her imagination pictured the -weird hour of midnight, and herself, alone, seeking -by strange rites to conjure up the spirit of her lover. -But the thought of one who, of all others she had yet -seen, embodied in her eyes the highest human perfections, -and the uncertainty that accompanied this -thought, brought her mind back again to its first resolution. -To have some sure knowledge on this subject, -was worth almost any trial, and the strong desire she -felt for its possession, nerved her heart for the -task she had laid upon herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As night closed in, the air became tempestuous. -The wind rushed and moaned through the trees that -were near and around her father’s dwelling. Every -window rattled, and the shutters and gates seemed as if -moved by some spirit-hands, for they were still scarcely -a moment at a time. Lizzie saw in all this disturbance -of the elements a sign that weird ones were abroad, -and you may well suppose that her heart trembled -when she thought of the experiment she was about to -make. When Hallow-Eve occurred just one year before, -she had tried one of the ordinary love charms; -but its indications were not satisfactory to her mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What was it?” asked Kate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The salt egg,” replied Aunt Edith.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The salt egg?—what is that?” I inquired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One or two, or more young girls, as the case may -happen to be,” said Aunt Edith, “sit up until the -witching hour of midnight. Then in the ashes they roast -each an egg, from which, after it is done, the hard yolk -is taken, and the cavity made in the egg by this removal, -filled with salt. Precisely at twelve o’clock at night, the -white of the egg is to be eaten with this salt, and then, -without drinking, the parties go to bed. Of course, they -get very dry in the night and dream of water, and, it is -averred that, in the dream, the spirit of the lover presents -a cup of water. If the damsel dream that she -takes the water and drinks it, the one by whom it is -presented will be her future husband; but if she refuse -to take it, she will not marry the man, and there are -chances in favor of her dying a maid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you ever try the salt egg, aunty?” inquired -Kate, with an arch look.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense, child! Don’t ask your aunt such a -question,” said Mr. Wilmot, laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, dear,” was the good-humored reply. “I’ve -tried that charm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And how did it come out?” asked Maggy, and -Jane both at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right,” returned Aunt Edith, while a beautiful -smile played about her features. “Well,” she continued, -“as I was saying, Lizzie had tried the salt -egg, but it had not proved so satisfactory as she had -desired, and she resolved to work out a deeper charm, -and to interrogate the future by a more earnest rite. -What this should be, had for many days been a subject -of debate in her mind. The most certain spell -was that of the south running spring or rivulet. But -not within half a mile was there such a stream in the -right location. To make this trial of sweethearts a -<span class='pageno' title='160' id='Page_160'></span> -sure one, the person must go after dark, to a stream -running south, and just where three estates meet, dip -the left sleeve in the water. She must then sleep in a -room where <a id='there'></a>there is a fire, and on going to bed, hang -the garment with the wet sleeve to dry. Of course, -she must lie awake until midnight, at which time the -spirit of the future husband will enter the room, go up -to the fire, turn the sleeve as if to dry the other side, -and then go away again. But, as I said, this ceremony -was out of the question, for Lizzie, even if her nerves -would have been strong enough for the trial, there -being no southward running spring within a convenient -distance. Other plans were next debated, and the final -conclusion was to eat an apple before a looking-glass, -just as the clock struck twelve, in the hope of seeing -the apparition of her spouse to be, looking at her over -her shoulder. At first thought this may seem but a -little matter, but let any one try it, and she will find -her courage put to a severe test.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i059.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0002' style='width:450px;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='it'>Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine.</span></span><br/> <br/><span class='bold'>THE LOVE TESTS OF HALLOWE’EN.—No. 1.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“A dozen times, as the lonely evening passed away -and Lizzie hearkened to the troubled roar of the storm -without—for the rain had begun to fall—did her heart -fail her. But the intense desire she felt to know something -certain in regard to her lover, brought back her -wavering resolution. There was no one at home but -her father and mother, and they retired to bed, as was -their usual custom, about nine o’clock. Three hours -yet remained before the all-potent love test could be -tried, and there was full time for Lizzie’s already -weakened nerves to become sensitive to the utmost -degree. In order to make the time pass less wearily, -she took up some work and tried to sew. But her hand -was so tremulous that she could not hold the needle, -and after a few trials, she was forced to abandon the -attempt. She next tried to read, but with no better -success. Her eyes passed from word to word over -the open page, but there was not the slightest connection -between the words in the book and the ideas that -were passing through her mind. Half an hour was -spent in this way, and then, startled by a noise as of -some one trying to open the outside door, she looked -up and listened intently, while her heart throbbed so -heavily that she could distinctly hear every pulsation, -and feel them as strokes upon her bosom. As she -listened, other sounds became apparent. There was -the noise, as of feet, walking around the house; voices -were heard in the moaning wind, and cries from the -distant forest. Now, there seemed to be a knocking -at the window-pane, and she half turned herself to -look, her heart shrinking lest some fearful apparition -should meet her eyes. Even in the room the deep -silence was broken by strange sounds—something -rustled in one corner, and rattled in another; and even -the fire blazed on the hearth with an unearthly murmur, -while the sparks flew suddenly out, and darted -across the room as if instinct with some living -purpose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thus it was that the hours crept slowly on. But -still firm to her purpose, Lizzie, though her heart was -almost paralyzed with superstitious fear, kept her -lonely vigil. At length the clock, which had ticked -with a louder and louder noise as time wore on toward -midnight, pointed to the minute mark before twelve. -Up to this tone the storm without had been steadily -increasing. But now there came a sudden lull in the -tempest, and the roar of the wind sunk into a low, -sobbing moan, that sounded strangely human.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The hour had come. Upon the table by which -Lizzie sat, stood the candle, and near it the apple -which must be eaten as a part of the spell that was -to raise the spirit of her lover. Strongly tempted was -Lizzie, at this crisis, to rush from the room and -abandon the bold experiment. Both hands of the -clock would be on the point that marked the close -of Halloween in a few seconds, and if she did not act -now, the secret she so ardently desired to penetrate -would still be hidden from her eyes. She felt awful -in that moment of deep suspense. Her heart ceased -for an instant to beat, and then bounded on again in -troubled throbbings. Then, with a kind of desperate -energy, she caught up the candle and apple, and turned -to the glass that hung against the wall. As she did -so, the brief lull in the tempest expired, and the wind, -as if it had gained new power, rushed past with a -wilder sound, and shook the house to its very foundation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One glance into the mirror, as the hammer of the -clock began to fall sufficed. A wild scream, thrilling -through the house, accompanied by a noise as of -some one falling heavily, aroused the sleeping parents. -When they descended to the room below, they found -Lizzie prostrate on the floor in a state of total insensibility.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, aunt!” exclaimed Kate, in a husky voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did she see?” asked Maggy, who had been -listening with breathless attention.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was many hours before the frightened girl -came back to consciousness,” said Aunt Edith. “I -saw her on the day afterward, and she looked as if -she had been sick for a month. We were intimate, -and on my asking her some questions, she told me what -she had done, and avowed that, as she looked into the -glass, she distinctly saw the face of a man peering over -her shoulder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you didn’t believe her,” said Mr. Wilmot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did she know the person whom she saw?” asked -Maggy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. She told me who it was; and they were -afterward married.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Wilmot. “I’m really -surprised at you, sister! You will turn these silly girls’ -heads. You surely don’t believe that she saw any -face in the glass besides her own.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In imagination she did, without doubt. The fact -of her fainting from alarm shows that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you say, Aunt Edith, that she afterward married -the person she saw?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, dear. But that is no very strange part of the -story. Young ladies are not famous for keeping secrets, -you know. I told a young friend, in confidence, of -course, what Lizzie had told me. She, though bound -to secrecy, very naturally confided the story to her -particular friend and confidante, and so it went, until -the young man came to hear of it. It so happened that -both he and Lizzie were rather modest sort of young -people, and, though mutually in love with each other, -<span class='pageno' title='161' id='Page_161'></span> -shrunk from letting any signs thereof become manifest. -At a distance the young man worshiped, scarcely -hoping that he would ever be, in the eyes of the maiden, -more than a friend or acquaintance. But, when he -heard of the love test, and was told that his face had -appeared to the maiden, he took courage. The next -time he met Lizzie, he drew to her side as naturally -as iron draws to the magnet; and as he looked into her -mild blue eyes, he saw that they were full of tenderness. -The course of true love ran smoothly enough -after that. On next Halloween they were made one, -in the very room where, a year before, the never-to-be-forgotten -love charm was tried.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the next morning neither of the sisters were very -bright. Maggy was pale; Jane did not make her appearance -at the breakfast table, and Kate looked so -thoughtful as she sipped her coffee with a spoon, and -only pretended to eat, that her mother inquired seriously -as to the cause.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kate blushed, and seemed a little confused, but said -nothing was the matter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope you have not been so silly as to try sweethearts,” -remarked Mr. Wilmot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Instantly the tell-tale blood mounted to the brow of -Kate. Maggy, likewise, found her color, and rather -more of it than her cheeks were wont to bear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why girls!” exclaimed the father, who had spoken -more in jest than in earnest. “Can it be possible—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But, before he could finish the sentence, both Kate -and Maggy had risen from the table—their faces like -scarlet—and were hastily leaving the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Really,” said Mr. Wilmot, “I thought better of -them girls! What nonsense! This is all your fault, -sister. I shouldn’t at all wonder if you were up with -them trying <span class='it'>your</span> sweetheart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aunt Edith smiled, in her quiet, self-possessed way, -as she replied—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hardly think, brother, you will find it any thing -more serious than eating a salt egg on going to bed, or -some trifling affair like that; for which I can readily -excuse a young maiden.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To think they should be so weak as to believe in -nonsense of this kind!” said the father. “I hoped -that my daughters had better sense.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t take the matter so seriously, brother,” replied -Aunt Edith to this. “It has only been a little -frolick.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It has been rather a serious one, I should think, to -judge from the effects produced. Jane, I presume, is -too much indisposed to get up; and I am sure both -Maggy and Kate look as if they had been sick for a -week.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’ll all come out bright enough before noon. -Don’t fear for that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girls, however, were not themselves again -during the whole day. Jane’s absence from the breakfast -table was in consequence of a nervous headache, -from which she suffered nearly all day. And Kate -and Maggy continued to look thoughtful, and to keep -as much away from the rest of the family as possible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It out, before night, that each of the girls, on -retiring at twelve o’clock, had eaten a “salt egg.” The -consequence to Jane was a sick headache; and the -others did not feel much better. As to their dreams, -they wisely kept their own counsel. That these had -some effect upon their spirits, was, no doubt correctly, -inferred.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That a young girl, after sitting up until twelve -o’clock at night, thinking of a certain nice young man, -and then eating half a cupfull of salt, should dream -that she was thirsty, and that this certain young man -came and offered her water to drink, is not a very -wonderful occurrence, and might be accounted for -on very natural principles.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course,” replied Aunt Edith, to whom the remark -was made, as we sat, all but the girls, conversing -before the parlor fire on the evening of that day. -“And yet I have known of cases where the dreams -that came were singularly prophetic. As for instance. -A young friend of mine, when I was a girl, tried, -though under engagement of marriage, this experiment. -She dreamed that her lover came and offered -her water, and that she declined taking it, which is -considered an unfavorable omen. In a month afterward, -although the time for the wedding was fixed, -the young man deserted her for another.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All that may have occurred,” said Mr. Wilmot, -“without there being any connection between the -dream and the after event.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, certainly. Yet you must own that the coincidence -was a little singular,” returned Aunt Edith.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are hundreds of coincidences occurring -daily that are far more remarkable.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very true. But will you say positively that indications -of things about to occur are never given? -That no shadow of a coming event is ever projected -upon our pathway as we move through life?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As I do not <span class='it'>know</span>, positively, any thing on the -subject, I will assert nothing. But, as a general principle, -we are aware that Providence wisely withholds -from us a knowledge of the future, in order that we -may remain in perfect freedom. If the knowledge of -future events was given, our freedom would be destroyed, -for the certainty of approaching calamity, or -favorable fortune, would destroy our ability to act -efficiently in the present. And as, for so good a reason, -our Creator draws a veil over the future, I think -it wrong for us to use any means for the removal of -that veil.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To any one,” replied Aunt Edith, “whose mind -is as clear on this subject as yours, all seeking after -future knowledge would be wrong. But all are not so -enlightened. All have not the intelligence or ability -to think wisely on Providence and its operations with -men. To such, in their weakness, the kind Providence -that withholds as a general good, may grant -particular glimpses into the future, as the result of certain -forms which may determine spiritual influences; -as was the case in ancient times, when oracles gave -their mysterious answers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid, sister,” said Mr. Wilmot, “that you -have a vein of superstition in your character.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” returned Aunt Edith. “I believe I am as -free from superstition as one need wish to be. But I -look upon the operations of Providence with man as -designed for his spiritual good, and as coming down -<span class='pageno' title='162' id='Page_162'></span> -to meet him even in his lowest and most ignorant -state, in order to elevate him. There may be a condition -of the human mind that needs, for its aid, some -sign from the world of spirits; and wherever that -state exists, such signs will be given. In the barbarous -times of any nation, we find a belief in supernatural -agencies—in signs, tokens, and oracles—a prominent -characteristic. This is not so much an accidental circumstance -as a Providential arrangement, by which -to keep alive in the mind the idea of a spiritual world. -The same is true among the <a id='unen'></a>unenlightened classes at the -present day; and the reason is of a similar character. -To people who know no better than to seek, by certain -forms, to penetrate the future, true answers may -be permitted sometimes to their inquiries; and this for -a higher good than the one they are seeking.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this point in the conversation the young ladies -came into the room, and the subject was changed. -During the evening allusion was again made to the -topic upon which so much had already been said, -when, in answer to some question asked of Aunt Edith, -she related the following:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Before I was married,” said she, “there was a -certain young man who paid me many attentions, but -whom, from some cause or other, I did not particularly -fancy. He was an excellent young man, of a good -family, and, as sober and industrious as any one in the -neighborhood. Still, for all this, I felt more like repulsing -than giving him encouragement. He saw that -I avoided him when I could do so without appearing -rude, and this made him more distant; yet I could see -that his mind was on me. I would often meet his -eyes when we were in company; and he would come -to my side whenever he could do so without appearing -to be intrusive. His many excellent qualities, and the -manliness of character for which he was distinguished, -prevented me from treating him otherwise than respectfully. -As a friend, I liked him, but when he approached, -as was evidently the case, in the character -of a lover, I could not be otherwise than cold and reserved. -There were two or three other young men -who appeared fond of my company, any one of whom -I would have accepted, had he offered himself, in preference -to this one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Such was the state of my love affairs, when Halloween -came round. A cousin, a young girl about -my own age, was spending a few weeks in our family, -and she and I talked over the matter of trying sweethearts. -After looking at the subject in its various -lights and shades, we finally determined to summon up -the requisite courage, and burn a love-candle. So, -after all the family were in bed, which was not until -after eleven o’clock, we began to make preparations -for this ceremony. Burning the love-candle is done -in this way. A table is set with bread, cakes and -fruit; or any other articles of food that may be selected. -Plates for as many guests as are expected are -also put upon the table; but no knives or forks, lest -the guests should, by any accident, harm themselves. -A little before midnight a candle, in which a row of -nine new pins have been placed just below the wick, -is lighted and set upon the table. The distance between -the row of pins and the burning end of the -candle must not be greater than will melt away by the -time the hour of twelve strikes. When the candle -burns down to the pins, they drop one after the other, -and just as the last one falls, the apparitions of the -future husbands of those who try the charm will enter, -it is said, sit down to the table and eat, and then rise -up and go away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Lydia and I determined that we would try -this love charm; so we arranged our table, placed -upon it the candle in which were stuck the row of -nine new pins, and sat down to await the arrival of -the hour that was to open for us a page of the future. -I shall never forget the deathlike stillness that reigned -for a time through the room; nor how I started when -the old house-dog suddenly raised, almost under the -window, a long, low, melancholy howl. My heart -seemed to beat all over my body, and I could feel the -hair rising on my head. After a quarter of an hour -had elapsed, we lit the candle and returned to our -seats on the opposite side of the room to that in which -the table was standing, almost crouching down in our -chairs. As we did so, one of the shutters, which was -merely drawn to without being fastened, flew open -suddenly, and was slammed back against the side of -the house, at the same time the wind began rushing -and moaning through the trees. I felt awful. Spirits -seemed all around me, and I looked every moment for -some fearful apparition to blast our sight with its -presence.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i060.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0003' style='width:450px;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='it'>Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine.</span></span><br/> <br/><span class='bold'>THE LOVE TESTS OF HALLOWE’EN.—No. 2.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“Steadily the hand passed from point to point, and -from figure to figure on the dial of the clock, my feelings -becoming more and more excited every moment. -At last came the warning that is given just before the -striking of the hour, and the minute hand had but a -point or two to pass before it was on the sign of twelve. -My very breath was suspended. A few moments -more, and then the hammer of the clock fell, and each -stroke appeared as if made upon my heart. Suddenly -there came a rush of wind past the house, and -strange, wild, mournful tones it made; then the -door swung open, and in came the apparition of a -man. I saw in an instant that it was the one of whom -I have spoken. His face had a fixed, dreamy, and, it -seemed to me, troubled expression. He went up, -slowly, to the table, and sitting down at my plate, took -some fruit. For the space of nearly a minute it seemed -to me, he remained there motionless; but did not eat. -Then rising he turned away and left the room. During -the brief period he remained, he manifested not the -slightest consciousness of our presence. You may be -sure we did not remain long after he had retired, but -went tremblingly up stairs, half frightened out of our -wits, and buried ourselves beneath the clothes without -stopping to remove our garments, where we lay and -shivered as if both of us had ague fits.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, sure enough,” continued Aunt Edith, “it -turned out as the sign had indicated. I was married -to the young man, and my cousin died an old maid. -It was all folly I thought to struggle against my fate, -and so from that memorable ‘Hallow-Eve’ received -my lover’s attentions with favor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And were you so weak as to believe that any one -did really come in?” said Mr. Wilmot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='163' id='Page_163'></span> -“I was,” returned Aunt Edith.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was all your imagination,” said the brother, -positively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I believe not. I don’t think it was possible -for both of our eyes to be deceived.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then your cousin saw it too?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So she would have averred, had you asked her -the day before her death.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Wilmot shook his head; while the girls looked -credulous. I noticed that Kate glanced slightly around, -every now and then, half fearfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One day,” resumed Aunt Edith, “about two years -after our marriage, something favoring an allusion to -the subject, I said to my husband—‘There is one thing -that I never could bring myself to mention, and I -hardly like to do it now.’ ‘What is that?’ he asked. -I then related to him, minutely, all that I have told -you this evening. He looked grave, and was thoughtful -for some time. Then he said—‘And there is also -one thing about which I have never felt free to speak -to you. I remember that night well, and shall have -cause to remember it as long as I live.’ ‘Were you -conscious of any thing?’ I asked eagerly. ‘Yes, of a -great deal,’ he replied. ‘I saw, in fact, all that passed.’ -‘In a dream?’ said I. ‘No, while awake—as fully -awake as at this time. To throw off all disguise, and -speak without mystery, I happened on that night to be -going home at a late hour, and in passing your house -saw a light streaming through a small opening in the -shutter. It instantly occurred to me that you might -be up and engaged in some love experiments, as it was -Hallow-Eve; so, stealing up softly, and peeping in, I -saw that I was not in error. No very long time was -spent in determining what to do. My decision I -marked by suddenly jerking the shutter back, and -slamming it loudly against the house. Concealed by -the darkness, I perceived the effect of this. It was -what I had anticipated. You did not in the least suspect -the truth. As plainly as if I had been in the room, -I could now see all that was passing; and, as I understood -the particular charm you were trying, knew -precisely what part I was to act in the ceremony. So, -as I had all along believed myself to be the favored -one, although you somehow or other appeared to think -differently, I took the liberty of walking in, just as the -clock struck twelve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this part of Aunt Edith’s story she was interrupted -by a burst of laughter from all in the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And so that was the explanation of the great mystery?” -said Mr. Wilmot. “The troubled spirit was a -real flesh and blood visiter after all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. And in my heart I forgave him for the trick -he played off upon me so adroitly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, Aunt Edith!” exclaimed Maggy, taking a -long breath. “How you frightened me! I really -thought it was a spirit that had entered!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, child. Spirits, I believe, are not apt to walk -about and visit love-sick maidens, even on Halloween, -for all that may be paid to the contrary. The instance -given you is the best authenticated I have ever -known.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This relation furnished abundant food for merriment, -as well as for some sage reflections during the evening, -and even Maggy, Jane and Kate saw reason to join -with the rest in laughing over the folly of Love Tests -at Halloween.</p> - -<hr class='tbk115'/> - -<div><h1><a id='odal'></a>THE ODALISQUE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY BAYARD TAYLOR.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>In marble shells the fountain splashes;</p> -<p class='line0'>  Its falling spray is turned to stars,</p> -<p class='line0'>When some light wind its pinion dashes</p> -<p class='line0'>  Against thy gilded lattice-bars.</p> -<p class='line0'>Around the shafts, in breathing cluster,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The roses of Damascus run,</p> -<p class='line0'>And through the summer’s moons of lustre</p> -<p class='line0'>  The tulip’s goblet drinks the sun.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The day, through shadowy arches fainting,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Reveals the garden’s burst of bloom,</p> -<p class='line0'>With lights of shifting iris painting</p> -<p class='line0'>  The jasper pavement of thy room:</p> -<p class='line0'>Enroofed with palm and laurel bowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thou see’st, beyond, the cool kiosk,</p> -<p class='line0'>And far away, the penciled towers</p> -<p class='line0'>  That shoot from many a stately mosque.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The voice of bird and tinkling water</p> -<p class='line0'>  Sounds cheerly in the cloudless morn,</p> -<p class='line0'>That comes to thee, its radiant daughter,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Across the glittering Golden Horn;</p> -<p class='line0'>And like the wave, whose flood of brightness</p> -<p class='line0'>  Is seen alone by eyes on shore,</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy sunlit being moves in lightness</p> -<p class='line0'>  Nor knows the beauty all adore.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thou hast no world beyond the chamber</p> -<p class='line0'>  Whose inlaid marbles mock the flowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where burns thy lord’s chiboque of amber,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To charm the languid evening hours.</p> -<p class='line0'>There sounds, for thee, the fond lute’s yearning</p> -<p class='line0'>  Through all enchanted tales of old,</p> -<p class='line0'>And spicy cressets, dimly burning,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Swing on their chains of Persian gold.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>No more, in half-remembered vision,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy distant childhood comes to view;</p> -<p class='line0'>That star-like world of shapes Elysian</p> -<p class='line0'>  Has faded from thy morning’s blue:</p> -<p class='line0'>The eastern winds that cross the Taurus</p> -<p class='line0'>  Have now no voice of home beyond,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where light waves foam in endless chorus</p> -<p class='line0'>  Against the walls of Trebizond.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>For thee the Past may never reckon</p> -<p class='line0'>  Its hoard of saddening memories o’er,</p> -<p class='line0'>Nor voices from the Future beckon</p> -<p class='line0'>  To joys that only live in store.</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy life is in the gorgeous Present,</p> -<p class='line0'>  An orient summer, warm and bright;—</p> -<p class='line0'>No gleam of beauty evanescent,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But one long time of deep delight.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk116'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='164' id='Page_164'></span><h1><a id='jess'></a>JESSIE LINCOLN:</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>OR THE CITY VISITERS.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MISS M. J. B. BROWNE.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The village of N., reader, where the scene of my -story is laid, is truly a most lovely place, so far certainly -as Nature is responsible; for a broad, beautiful -river bounds it on one side, and a fine range of mountains, -picturesquely grand, screen it on another. -Wealth, too, has joined hands with Nature to assist in -the perfect completion of what <span class='it'>she</span> had left as it were -unfinished. Sweet cottages nestling in green shrubbery, -and elegant mansions surrounded by spacious -gardens and lawns, glistening with fountains or shady -with groves, reveal to the beholder a harmonious conspiracy -between taste and affluence to picture Paradise -in daguerreotype—everything must be in daguerreotype -in these days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the <span class='it'>moral</span>—perhaps it would be more charitable -to say the <span class='it'>conventional</span> aspect of the village, is not so -lovely as the natural aspect. A certain line of distinction -has been drawn in society, and has long been assuming -a greater and greater stringency, as an old -generation passes away, and a new one refining upon -its ancestor succeeds it. It is not the aristocracy of -family and birth—the pride of nobility, as in England—nor -the aristocracy of wit and talent, as in France—nor -yet the true aristocracy of intellect and moral worth—but -the peculiarly American aristocracy of money! -Caste, determined by the possession or non-possession -of estates and bank-stock, is scarcely more rigidly -guarded on Hindoo ground than here—and intermarriages -between the “higher and lower classes”—ridiculous -names it is true, to be applied to society in -republican democratic America—are regarded as sufficient -reason for casting off all association with the <span class='it'>degraded</span> -party, whatever rank said party may have sustained -before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And here I cannot forbear a passing remark on the -obvious inconsistency of this principle. The accidents -of fortune are so very variable, and its mutations such -matters of every day experience, that a more fluctuating -or uncertain standard of station could not possibly have -been chosen. The possessor of half a million to-day, -in a few years may die alone and in penury, the miserable -tenant of a deserted garret, while the ragged, -shivering, homeless boy, who pays his last hardly -earned copper for the privilege of sleeping on an untenanted -board, may at length find himself in the enjoyment -of the “highest honors in the gift of his country-men,” -the honorable master of thousands, with a once -starving and outcast beggar child the sharer of his -emoluments and the elegant mistress of his mansion. -The <span class='it'>son</span> of the rich man may die unknown and unblessed -in the prison or the almshouse, “while the son -of the maid servant who cleaned the President’s -kitchen,” may be carried to the “white house” in -triumph, the chief magistrate of a great and powerful -nation. But pardon my <a id='digr'></a>digression, dear reader—I -needed not to <span class='it'>pen your own sentiments</span>. It is time I -should introduce you to some of my people, if I would -interest you, as I hope I may, in their acquaintance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “first and best” lady in the village of N. was -Mrs. Josepha Tower. This lady was a widow, and -in every respect, in heart, and mind, and manners, she -was a truly elegant and accomplished woman. She -belonged in a measure to the “old school,” and she -possessed an uncommon share of sterling common -sense, and the firmest and most uncompromising Christian -principle. She was the possessor, too, of ample -wealth, and diffused it with a liberality which reflected -honor on her generosity, as well as poured a stream of -happiness into her bereaved and widowed heart. The -earlier part of Mrs. Tower’s life had been passed in a -Southern city, though she was proud to claim a birth-right -on New England’s soil, and an affinity with the -upright and earnest New England heart in her purposes -and dispositions. When the cholera with pestilential -breath swept over the city of C——, it numbered -among its victims her husband and her only child; and -as the staff and centre of her hopes were thus suddenly -cut down at a single stroke, Mrs. Tower turned her -face toward the home of her childhood, and sought -amid the green hills and quiet streams, where those -fresh and careless years had been passed, for that alleviation -to her sorrows which she must have sought in -vain among scenes where her irreparable losses would -be constantly suggested by contact and association. -She came forth from the furnace of her affliction like -gold seven times purified, and resolutely declining even -the consideration of a second marriage while her heart -was bound so fast in its wedlock to the grave, she -consecrated her influence and her wealth to the noble -purpose of promoting the well-being and the happiness -of her fellow sojourners in a wilderness world. The -star of her hope had gone out while she yet watched it -in midheaven, and why should she not henceforward -bind herself to the unselfish aim of spreading abroad -the joy which had taken its flight from her own bosom, -leaving in its place a calm and holy resignation? So -to the north and to the south, to the east and to the -west, “from the river to the ends of the earth,” flowed -the rills, all fresh and fertilizing, which found their reservoir -in her kindly and world-embracing benevolence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Every thing tasteful and elegant in the matter of -household appointments, was always to be found at -Mrs. Tower’s. Books, not laid upon the shelves of -her library merely to dazzle by their gilding, but to be -read by every body who would read—pictures and -statues—for she was a generous patroness of the arts—music -and flowers, and the most refined and polished -<span class='pageno' title='165' id='Page_165'></span> -society, were among the most familiar attractions one -always found at the residence of that excellent lady; -and yet I tell my readers only the truth when I say -that with all her wealth, and her truly enviable social -position, Mrs. Tower was the only woman in the whole -circle of N. <a id='aris'></a>aristocracy who had independence enough -to bid defiance to conventional proscription, and invite -whom she pleased to tea with her—whether it was the -President’s lady or her washer-woman. Mrs. Tower -to be sure had too much politeness to invite those whom -she knew her aristocratic neighbors did not choose to -recognize as equals when she invited <span class='it'>them</span>; but she -heartily despised the principle which governed her -wealthier acquaintances, in excluding the worthy poor -from their society <span class='it'>because</span> they were poor; and in the -face of all expostulation and astonishment, she disdained -such unreasonable trammels and acted accordingly, -though she well knew what surprise her decision -occasioned, and what gossip it furnished. But the -fault-finders—what could they do? They could not -proscribe Mrs. Tower, for she abounded in that one -great requisite for elevated station—a plenty of <span class='it'>money</span>—and -she could gather into her house more distinguished -people from the circle of her private acquaintance, -than half the village put together—they could not -lose the pleasure of such agreeable levees as Mrs. -Tower made for strangers who were visiting her at all -seasons of the year. Beside, just now when my story -commences, the young minister of the village was an -inmate of her family, and being unmarried and unbetrothed, -and there being at the same time a goodly -number of young ladies unmarried, but marriageable, -in the most important families of his parish, the minister, -Rev. Louis Style, became a very interesting character, -aside from his public capacity, and the unconscious -prize in quite an extensive lottery. But more of the -Rev. Louis Style anon.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER II.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>One lovely evening in summer, a circle of young -ladies was sitting in the delicious moonlight that -streamed fitfully through the glancing leaves and fragrant -clusters of honeysuckle that shaded the veranda -of Mrs. Tower’s residence, chatting joyfully—the <span class='it'>girls</span> -I mean—not the honeysuckles or the moonlight, though -I could not vouch that <span class='it'>they</span> exchanged no love whispers -audible to the ears of fairies—laughing merrily -over the ices and fruit, and of course, gossiping.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Tower had been more than usually agreeable, -though she was always lovely; and as to Mr. Style, -he had carried every heart. The girls had all been -completely captivated; some by his calm and manly -beauty, and some by the flashing brilliancy of his ripe -and richly cultivated mind, and some by those inexpressible -fascinations, which, had he been a man of the -world, would have made him irresistible in all society. -But Mr. Style was a man of pure and exalted piety, -and would have conscientiously feared to use his -slightest power to interest a heart to which his own -must stoop from its own moral height to meet, or to -whose affection he could not earnestly respond. Indeed -so fastidious was the Rev. Mr. Style, that he had -never met the lady, as he determined, whom he could -cordially invite to the queenship of his affections. He -was verily so happy and contented as an inmate of -Mrs. Tower’s family in the pursuit of his daily duties—so -happy in the satisfaction and regard of his people, -that it seldom occurred to him that “it is not good for -a man to be alone.” The mammas and blooming -young ladies, however, adopted that doctrine as one of -the most important, prominent and practical of the -whole creed, and most especially did they set their -faces against so Popish a practice as the “celibacy of -the clergy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Tower had withdrawn from the circle a few -minutes to examine the dispatches brought in by the -evening mail, but returning soon with a smile of unusual -gladness illuminating her pensive face, and an -open letter in her hand, she said—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, girls, I have intelligence here that makes me -very happy. I have at length prevailed with a young -friend of mine, to leave the city and pass a few weeks -with me during the hottest of the season, and I am so -very glad—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, so am I,” interrupted Miss Charlotte Varley, a -very languishing young lady, who had great hopes of -success with Mr. Style, since she had joined his communion -and was a teacher in his Sabbath-school—but -withal a <span class='it'>belle</span>—“a young gentleman from the city will -be very refreshing this terrible weather—I hope he is a -pious man, Mrs. Tower—we have so few of those—and -that he will bring us some new plans about Sabbath-schools -and benevolent societies such as are found -to be most useful in the city!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Varley closed her remarks with a small sigh, -and looked at Mr. Style for pious sympathy. Mr. -Style that moment turned away to pluck a drooping -blossom that hung near him, and some of the ruder -minxes indulged in mischievous glances and a smothered -laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I declare, Charlotte,” interposed Miss Emilie -Jones, who was one of Miss Varley’s most sincere despisers, -“the effervescence of your regard for Sabbath-schools -and ‘cent societies,’ has quite anticipated the -sequel of Mrs. Tower’s story—you did not allow her -time to say whether we are to be favored by the accession -of a <span class='it'>lady</span> or a <span class='it'>gentleman</span> to our little country -community—but consulting your own fancy, I suppose -you took it for granted it must be a ‘pious young gentleman.’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The color deepened in Charlotte’s really beautiful -face, as a glimpse of her ridiculous position flashed -from Emilie’s playful satire, and to increase her confusion, -the girls all laughed more saucily than before. -There might have been some serious heart-burnings, -but Mrs. Tower came to the rescue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Charlotte is entirely excusable, young ladies,” she -said, “and I am responsible for her remark by my own -ambiguity. My friend is a <span class='it'>lady</span>, and one of the loveliest -of her sex in mind and heart. I have not seen -her since she grew into a woman, but I am confident -from what I know of the development of her character, -I shall not be disappointed in the promise of her childhood. -She will be here in two weeks at most, and -possibly sooner. Now I am old and dull girls, and I -shall draw largely on your vivacity for her entertainment, -<span class='pageno' title='166' id='Page_166'></span> -at <span class='it'>first</span> for <span class='it'>my</span> sake, and afterward, when you -know her, for her own.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O yes, indeed, Mrs. Tower,” promised the girls, -and none more promptly than Charlotte and Adelaide -Varley, both for themselves and for their mother and -three sisters at home. They would specially make a -party for her, though they had determined to make <span class='it'>no</span> -parties till their friends, Mrs. Tyler and her daughter, -very genteel people from New York, should come, -which event could not certainly be hoped for at least -for three weeks. And Misses Charlotte and Adelaide -telegraphed to each other, while the rest were promising -their attentions, how much pleasure it must afford -Mrs. Tyler and Elizabeth if they should happen to recognize -a city acquaintance in Mrs. Tower’s expected -visiter—“as their metropolitan friends,” Charlotte remarked, -“were so very gay and fashionable, they had -sometimes languished in the country for a city face or -something that looked familiar.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must be a melancholy and most insupportable -deprivation,” chimed in Emilie Jones, “to spend a -whole fortnight on the stretch in such an ugly and unsightly -village as this of N. has the reputation of being, -especially in the summer, and all that time, not so -much as <span class='it'>see</span> fiery red brick palisades towering up on -both sides of you, and pouring down on your ‘devoted -head’ a perfect torrent of heat! I am sure if I were -anybody’s ‘metropolitan friends,’ I should mourn being -obliged to set my feet on the cool grass! How I -should miss the scorching them on a hot pavement, to -say nothing of the disadvantage to my lungs of inhaling -fresh clear air, instead of dust and cigar smoke, and -all sorts of vile fumes and abominations! What is -your taste, Mr. Style?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am a great lover of the country, and particularly -of this beautiful village, Miss Emilie,” gallantly replied -Mr. Style.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, well, Emilie, enough of your mischief for -once,” said Adelaide Varley, with a very severe smile -which she meant for an indifferent one. “We all -know you are more wicked than citified. But my -watch says it is time to go home, and I guess Mrs. -Tower will be glad to be rid of such a set of chatter-boxes -as we have proved ourselves this time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Style will write a livelier sermon for it, I’ll -wager my thimble, after he has slept upon the savor of -our conversation,” said Emilie, as she gave him her -hand at parting, and turned gayly round to bid Mrs. -Tower good night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come again, dears, every one of you,” said Mrs. -Tower, as she smiled on the youthful group, “come -every day and enliven us with the life of such glad -spirits. Mr. Style would lead a most monotonous life -indeed if <span class='it'>I</span> were all the company he could have.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You, indeed, my dearest Mrs. Tower,” replied -Emilie. “That man is verily avaricious who covets -better or more charming society than our most delightful -hostess of this evening, to say nothing of the ice -creams and etceteras! Yes, worthy of stripes is he, -whether clergyman or layman!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Emilie finished her speech with a quick glance -at the young minister, and her own peculiarly rich and -musical shout of mirth, and tripped lightly down the -terrace and across the wide and shaded street to her -own home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the other young ladies of the party had farther to -go, Mr. Style took them all under his protection, rendering -particular assistance to Miss Charlotte, who -complained of excessive weariness and lassitude. -Beside, being occasionally afflicted with a difficulty of -the heart, she could not walk so fast as some of the -girls, so Mr. Style found himself safely at Mrs. Varley’s -door with his delicate charge, many minutes after -all the others were laughing and speculating about it -in their own rooms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Adelaide, what do you think of Mrs. Tower’s -coaxing a very pretty young lady to her house, to pass -some weeks in company with the Rev. Mr. Style?” -said Charlotte, very sharply, as she ran upstairs to -the parlor, in double quick time, quite independent of -the “heart difficulty,” that had so impeded her progress -home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s downright scandalous!” said Miss Annette, -the eldest daughter, “and I should not wonder at any -breeze it might raise in the church and society—it -may result in something very unpleasant indeed!” and -Annette shook her head very doubtfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is ridiculous! Nothing but a trap, depend on -it,” said Mrs. Varley, for Adelaide had detailed the -whole story with her own annotations long before -Charlotte reached home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is really a very presuming thing,” seriously responded -Annette, shaking her head still more dubiously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes—very presumptuous indeed!” sneered -Mrs. Varley, who never had any opinions, only those -that were to be had at second hand. “Just as if Mrs. -Tower could not only dictate who we shall have for -minister, but also who he shall <span class='it'>marry</span>! for I declare, -girls, it looks like that—don’t it now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To be sure it does, mamma,” replied Annette; -“you have hit the nail on the head this time! It takes -<span class='it'>you</span> to see what folks are about behind the scenes. -Lottie, did you get any particulars about this person out -of Mr. Style, coming home—whether he ever saw -her—whether she is rich and fashionable, so it will do -for <span class='it'>us</span> to notice her—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, Annette, I did not learn any thing about her, -though I asked questions enough in all conscience,” -fretted Charlotte. “But I think we had better write -immediately to Mrs. Tyler and find out something,” -she continued. “I declare, mamma,” and the tears -started to her eyes for very vexation and disappointment, -“Mr. Style would not speak only on the most -indifferent subjects coming home, and if I don’t bring -him to the point soon, I don’t believe one of us will -ever be married in the world, and I will go to a convent! -I <span class='it'>will</span>!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t say so, Lottie! don’t dear,” soothed the -mamma—“only think what good aim money takes at -the hearts of men, and are we not <span class='it'>rich</span>, child; and are -not my daughters fine dashing girls, dressing as well -as the best of ’em, and wont they finally marry <span class='it'>jest as -they please</span>? The chaff always blows away first, they -used to say when I was young!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, who wants to wait forever, mother, for all -<span class='pageno' title='167' id='Page_167'></span> -that?” said Annette, who really had waited a reasonable -time, with her purse and her heart in her hand, -and yet no bidders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>I</span> for one, want to wait till I am <span class='it'>sought</span>,” said -Adelaide, “and not make such a ridiculous matter of it -as Charlotte does, in her pursuit of Mr. Style. The -girls all laughed at your speeches, Lottie, till I am -heartily vexed and ashamed about the whole game. -Do be a little wiser in your demonstrations—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I guess I’ll come and borrow some of the wisdom -<span class='it'>you</span> have to spare, Miss,” retorted Charlotte, very angrily, -as she rose and whisked out of the room, slamming -the door violently after her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Varley and the three sisters, Annette, Almeda, -and Cynthia, all pounced upon Adelaide, who was -really more shrewd and sensible than they all, till she -diverted them from the attack by a narration of what -was always interesting, the gossip she had gathered -from one and another, together with her own active -surmises during the evening.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you had seen how Emilie Jones acted, mamma—I -could not help thinking Mr. Style and Mrs. Tower -were both delighted with her impudence,” said Adelaide. -“For my part, I think she is one of the -sauciest and most sarcastic imps I ever saw. If Capt. -Jones was not so rich and his family so influential, I -would cut her acquaintance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And a mighty deal would she care for that,” replied -Annette, “so long as Mrs. Tower makes such -friends of her and her mother. But did she tell you -that her father and George are coming home directly? -Mrs. Jones was here to-night, and she said so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—she did not say a word about it. She makes -no disclosures to me,” returned Adelaide. “There -will be another mark for our beautiful Charlotte—the -young lieutenant—if she does not succeed in her -‘ecclesiastical measures,’ ” she added, biting her lips -in expectation of a torrent of displeasure from her mother -and sisters. It came, of course, and in a fit of -resentment and passion, she too flirted off to bed.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER III.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The Varley family were very wealthy <span class='it'>in purse</span>, -and <a id='itwas'></a>it was the only anchor with which they were -able to fasten themselves on society. They were ignorant, -vulgar, and haughty, proud, unprincipled, and -deceitful. A more designing, intriguing, manœuvring -woman than Mrs. Varley, can seldom be met with, but -her plans were all so superficially laid, and so very -shallow and short-sighted, they had so far unfortunately -failed, at least all the matrimonial alliances she had -projected for her five marriageable daughters—inasmuch -as they all remained a heavy article in a sated -market. Charlotte was the youngest, and in person, -so far as the delicate tinting of the face and a faultless -chiseling of form were concerned, she possessed unusual -loveliness. But the deformity of her ill disciplined -and misdirected mind, and the prominent -weakness of her character, were so apparent, that in -the estimate of really sensible and intelligent people, -the one favorable item passed for almost nothing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Varley had resolved to secure the Rev. Mr. -Style for her youngest daughter, and she determined -that nothing should be left undone to accomplish so desirable -an object. Charlotte was herself too weak to -play her part <span class='it'>well</span> in a well concerted scheme—but in -a miserably lame one, she played it wretchedly. Mr. -Style saw to his infinite but necessarily concealed disgust, -the snare that was spread in his sight, and though nothing -in the world was easier than to escape, it subjected -him to a mortifying espionage, and most disagreeable -caution in his pastoral intercourse with his people. -What the designs of others might be he was too high-minded -even to imagine; but there was no mistaking -Miss Charlotte Varley’s intentions, with eyes only half -open.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Since Mr. Style had been an inmate of Mrs. Tower’s -household, Mrs. Varley had been making perpetual attempts -to place herself and her daughters on a footing -of intimacy there; but her efforts had been unsuccessful, -as Mrs. Tower was just as polite as ever, and just -as reserved as ever, leaving Mrs. Varley to guess at -the reason. Of course she put her own construction -upon the matter, and never failed, when she could find -or make an opportunity, to hint at something unfavorable -in relation to Mrs. Tower. She did, as malicious -people often do, foil herself with her own weapons, -for almost every body loved and admired Mrs. Tower, -and distrusted and disliked Mrs. Varley, though her -wealth and standing in society gave her a kind of influence -and power, which she and the five Misses -Varley most industriously exerted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Tower’s clear mind fathomed at a glance the -intent of her neighbor, but the sentinels about the out-posts -of her prudence, were never for once caught -slumbering on duty, or taken in a moment of unguardedness; -and she sealed her discoveries in her own -breast, leaving her friend and protégé, the Rev. Mr. -Style, to his own conclusions and his own discretion. -He longed to ask her if his observations tallied with -hers, but he feared it might savor of conceit, or wear -some other unworthy aspect in her eyes, so they remained -mutually silent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such was the condition of things when Mrs. Tower -welcomed to her house and her hospitalities the daughter -of her early friend, sweet Jessie Lincoln. An illness -of a few days had delayed her arrival, but the -paleness it had left on her cheek only added a charm -to her sad and lovely face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now you are mine for a long, long time—for -<span class='it'>always</span>, Jessie,” said Mrs. Tower, as she folded the -gentle girl to her heart. “How long I have urged -you, and now you are really with me at length? How -like the Jessie of my childhood you are, dearest, and -how like the Jessie I laid beside her father in the -grave!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The awakening of painful remembrances brought -the relief of mingled tears to the childless widow and -the orphan Jessie; but soon controlling her emotions -Mrs. Tower continued—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall preach one of my favorite doctrines in your -ears, my dear Jessie, till you are my proselyte indeed. -This notion of yours about dependence is <span class='it'>only</span> a notion. -It is banishing the bloom from your cheek, and -stealing from your whole youth the treasures of joyousness -which the young should especially garner. -<span class='pageno' title='168' id='Page_168'></span> -There is bitterness enough laid up for meridian years, -Jessie, without casting so deep a shadow over the -light and the hope of your girlhood. You must henceforth -make my house your home, and be my own -daughter. Say, Jessie, will you not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Poor Jessie could only reply with her tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At least you must consider the matter,” proceeded -Mrs. Tower, “and if I succeed in making your stay -with me agreeable while you are my guest, I shall -certainly hope to persuade you. But dry those tears, -Jessie. I dare say I have opened the subject prematurely—if -you are not too weary for company to-night, -I must take you down stairs and introduce you to -some ladies I see coming up the avenue, to sympathize -in my gladness—Mrs. Jones and her Emilie. Mrs. -Jones is one of my dearest friends, and Emilie is a -wild, crazy-headed creature, but very sensible and -affectionate, and I am sure you will love her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jessie’s plain traveling-dress was exchanged for one -of simple white muslin, and the bright mass of her -beautiful black hair, released from its confinement, -fell in smooth, heavy ringlets over her shoulders. Her -whole air was a harmonious combination of ladylike -reserve and a native born gentility, which education -indeed may polish and improve, but can never implant. -Mrs. Tower fondly kissed the cheek of the graceful -girl, and then placing Jessie’s arm within her own, -she led her with almost maternal pride to the drawing-room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Jones and her daughter welcomed the young -stranger with the sincere cordiality of old friends, and -Emilie, who became immediately fascinated with the -simplicity and unassuming gentleness of her manner, -expressed the earnest hope that Miss Lincoln would -be happy enough to spend the whole summer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you have a country-loving taste, I am sure you -cannot find a lovelier spot than our own village, Miss -Lincoln—or Jessie—as I mean to call you when we -are no longer strangers,” said Emilie, her brilliant -face sparkling with kindness, as she sat down on the -sofa by Jessie’s side. “There is every thing beautiful -at Mrs. Tower’s I know,” she continued, “but I am -so wild, and so much of a rambler that I love the -forests and glens and waterfalls, and above all horseback -excursions! We have a pair of fine saddle-horses -that papa has just brought home—high-spirited -creatures they are—they make me think of Zenobia’s -horses. Don’t you ride on horseback, Miss Jessie?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jessie had never practiced at all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O well! I can learn you in a very little time, and -I’ll undertake to be your tutor in horsemanship, for I -am far more notable in it, than in some <span class='it'>more</span> feminine -accomplishments. Do you hear <a id='mymy'></a>my boast Mrs. -Tower? I have engaged to learn Miss Lincoln to ride -on horseback, in which art I have informed her <span class='it'>I excel</span>!” -and Emilie laughed heartily at her own nonsense.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No very unreasonable boast, Miss Emilie,” said -Mr. Style; “and I think Miss Lincoln would have -no difficulty in believing every word, if she had seen -you practicing your Arabs this morning. I was confident -your neck would be broken! But have you -found names for the horses yet? You were in a grave -study about that last evening!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O yes, Mr. Style, I am happily relieved of that -anxiety. I could not think of christening them with -those Quixotic names which you suggested, for I -knew I could never remember them—and I was so -troubled to suit myself, that I referred the whole matter -to papa and George, and after a protracted and -laborious discussion, they declared for the illustrious -names of Romulus and Remus! I hope they may not -quarrel for precedence, as those old worthies did! -Indeed I shall be wrathful enough if Romulus practices -any imposition or violence on Remus, for he is -decidedly my favorite, and not entirely a <span class='it'>non resistant</span> -I discover. But I shall give Miss Lincoln her introductory -lessons on my docile old Betty, who has -run so many delightful races for my pleasure. After -that I purpose to settle a pension on Betty, and leave -her to enjoy a calm old age. O I long to be about it! -Will you be too tired to take your first ride to-morrow -morning, Miss Lincoln? Betty is quiet as a kitten, -and will kneel to take you on her back. Mrs. Tower’s -avenue behind the garden is just the place too. Mrs. -Tower may we ride there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly you may, Emilie,” replied Mrs Tower. -“I give you the range of my house and grounds, together -with the command of my carriage and coachman, -till you shall get Jessie acclimated!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is noble, Mrs. Tower! All I want. Your -avenue is longer and wider than ours. I am sure I -shall have roses as red as my own on Jessie’s cheek -in a very little while. And you, Mr. Style, may prepare -yourself for a challenge to a horse-race, when -Miss Lincoln can ride my Romulus!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jessie expressed unbounded delight at the prospect -of amusement that was before her, and offered a thousand -thanks to Emilie for her willingness to instruct -her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O pray don’t say a word about that,” replied -Emilie. “Perhaps I shall not prove so competent as -I promise. But if I fail, Mr. Style here shall finish -your education!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, Mr. Style,” said Mrs. Tower, when the -ladies had made their adieux, “you must take charge -of Jessie’s entertainment, while I attend to a little -business. I am sure she will be pleased with the conservatory?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The young clergyman very readily undertook the -commission, and throwing open a door from the -drawing-room, he led the delighted girl into a sweet -wilderness of flowers and fragrance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Three weeks glided by almost imperceptibly, for -Jessie Lincoln had never experienced such a full -tide of happiness. The cool, fresh country zephyr -kissed her cheeks, and there crept over them a delicious -tinting, delicate as the blush of a rose-bud. -Vigorous exercise, rural walks, and every kind of -simple pleasure banished the sickly and languid expression -from her face, and with returning health came -vigor, vivacity, and joyousness. George and Emilie -Jones were unwearied in their devotion to Jessie’s -happiness; the Varleys had outdone everybody in -promises of attention and politeness, especially Miss -Charlotte, who found very frequent occasion to watch -for any indications of Mr. Style’s preference of Jessie -<span class='pageno' title='169' id='Page_169'></span> -before herself. Poor Charlotte! she longed to read his -heart; the indifference, nay, positive aversion she -would have discovered there, would have been “the -gall of bitterness” to her own, for she was deeply and -desperately in love, if ever a silly young woman was, -and a breath could have fanned her electrical jealousy -into an uncontrollable flame. She would have given -the last farthing of her fortune for an assurance of -affection from the young minister. Alas! he never -gave her any; yet at this juncture, without the slightest -reason to believe he regarded her with any other sentiment -than the commonest acquaintance, she confidently -did believe she had taken him in her toils, and -he would soon declare himself her admirer, unless Jessie -stood in the way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was impossible not to see with one’s eyes open -that Mr. Style was becoming deeply and vitally interested -in Jessie, though in her simplicity and humility -she was wholly unconscious of it; and if she had conceived -the possibility of such a thing, she would bitterly -have rebuked her own presumption, for she regarded -herself altogether too humble to aspire to such -a position in the world as to become the wife of such -a gifted man. It is true that the lustre of his mind, the -high tone of his moral endowments, and the faultlessness -of his exterior moulding, <span class='it'>charmed</span> her—and what -young heart would they <span class='it'>not</span> charm, I pray you tell me, -dear lady reader? But the idea of loving Mr. Style -with any other love than that which is inspired and -sanctioned by respect and friendship merely never -entered her mind. Jessie was, however, the beau -ideal of all his visions—the pure, pious, refined, and -high-souled woman he had always hoped to meet -before he surrendered his heart with its rich treasury -of manly and generous love. He knew her history—you -shall know more of it anon, reader—and he admired -and revered the strength and unconquerable resolution -with which she had combated and triumphed -in the midst of the most depressing discouragements. -Respect, admiration, love, combined to make him—no, -not a willing slave at her feet—he felt her moral -nobility would revolt at that; but they made him ready -to plant his strength by the side of her weakness, to be -its defence and protection till the death-angel should -come, commissioned to guide her from earth to heaven.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER IV.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Tyler and Elizabeth, Mrs. Varley’s genteel -“metropolitan friends,” had detained themselves at -Saratoga so long as the most fashionable company remained. -But they at length wrote a hasty note to the -“dear Varleys” stating definitely when they should be -at the depôt in N., expecting to see the carriage in -waiting. And they did come, “bag and baggage,” to -stay till November—it was only <span class='it'>August</span> then, and -they flattered themselves, so they announced, that even -in so short a stay, very much happiness might be reciprocated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The prime advantage of Mrs. Tyler’s acquaintance -to the Varley family, consisted in the circumstance -that that lady and her daughter boarded at what they -called one of the most fashionable houses in the city. -Mrs. Tyler despised housekeeping; it confined one so -to the mercy of servants, besides <span class='it'>company</span> made it so -troublesome and expensive. The Miss Varleys could -go and board at the same place in the winter, and Mrs. -Tyler would be so very kind and condescending as to -“take all the trouble of <span class='it'>chaperoning</span> them into the -society of the ‘upper ten thousand,’ and nobody could -with any certainty predict what advantages might -accrue; perhaps a splendid settlement, perhaps”—I -know not how many inducements she possessed, all -of which sounded golden enough in the ears of the -Miss Varleys when they made her acquaintance at -—— Beach the season before, and insured for her what -she intended, an invitation to the country when it was -genteel to go into the country without such a bill of -expense. The sphere in which Mrs. Tyler actually -moved was only in the same pseudo-genteel orbit with -the Mrs. Washington Potts’s, Mrs. De Perouk’s and a -similar galaxy of inferior magnitude, to whose acquaintance -and real claims to respect our shrewd and -gifted countrywoman, has introduced so many delighted -and instructed readers. Blessings on her simplicity, -and on her two-edged satire; blessings on her -mind and her pen, for holding up a mirror before the -face of society, in which it may see not only its lineaments -of loveliness, but also its deformities.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Tyler was a very small, <span class='it'>dried-up</span> woman, if I -may be tolerated for the expression, though a row of -beautiful porcelain teeth displayed themselves whenever -she parted her parched and skinny lips; her cheeks -were most unnaturally rosy—I should have said -<span class='it'>rougey</span>! A profusion of smooth and glossy ringlets -adorned her head, and her whole dress was so in the -extreme of fashion, there could have been, indeed, but -a paltry difference between her “polar and equatorial -diameter.” Brilliants sparkled in her gay caps, among -the <a id='rib'></a>ribbons and roses; gems flashed on her withered -hands; “tinkling ornaments, cauls, round tires like the -moon, chains, and bracelets, and mufflers, bonnets and -head-bands, and tablets, earrings and rings, changeable -suits of apparel, mantles, and wimples, and crisping-pins, -glasses, fine linen, hoods and veils,” figuratively -speaking, the Prophet’s whole catalogue of a Judean -toilette, was in requisition, with many modern inventions, -at which a Judean maiden would have stood -aghast, to make a vain old woman young again! O, -miserable ambition!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Elizabeth was large and masculine in all her -proportions, with an ungraceful stoop in her shoulders, -coarse and prominent features, staring blue eyes, a -brilliant and exquisite complexion, and most unusually -beautiful hair. Her manners were intended to be easy -and nonchalant, while in truth, to the eyes of true refinement, -they were unpardonably bold and rude. -Miss Tyler had persuaded herself she was a <span class='it'>wit</span>, her -sayings had sometimes occasioned so much laughter, -and she delighted to use her fancied power everywhere, -and on all occasions, shooting the shafts of her -sarcasm and irony hither and thither without delicacy, -civility, or mercy. She dressed gaudily and expensively, -while her father drudged behind the counter -of his “hardware and leather establishment,” early and -late to support such enormous and unnecessary expenditures. -She read novels “all night,” and was -<span class='pageno' title='170' id='Page_170'></span> -familiar with the fate of every hero and heroine, from -those of Bulwer, Eugene Sue, and George Sand, down -to the prettiest specimen of “yellow-covered literature” -for sale in small retail beer-shops, or peddled in railroad -cars by newsboys. She gloried in the unfeminine -and unprincipled habit of laughing at and ridiculing -people in their very presence, if their backs were -turned, and especially <span class='it'>country people</span>; was strangely -familiar with strangers; laughed and talked very loud -in the streets, shops, and public conveyances, <span class='it'>et cetera</span>. -Dear reader, I need not fill my outline more definitely; -with a blush for the honor of my sex, I am compelled -to admit there is more than <span class='it'>one</span> Elizabeth Tyler in -“these degenerate days!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Well, the next day after Mrs. Tyler and her daughter -arrived Mrs. Varley gave a very extensive invitation -to the <span class='it'>ton</span> of the village, to assemble at her house in -the evening, to pay their respects and make the acquaintance -of her most distinguished visiters. The -invitation, of course, included Mr. Style, Mrs. Tower, -and Jessie Lincoln, concerning whom they had unaccountably -neglected to make any inquiries, strange -as it may seem, when she was the object of such -nervous anxiety.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From eight till nine, poor Charlotte sat on the sofa -by the side of Miss Tyler, terribly dispirited, and -eagerly watching for the announcement of the Rev. -Mr. Style. Elizabeth rallied her in vain; she scarcely -remembered to introduce her friend, and tried fruitlessly -to be amused by Elizabeth’s coarse and unladylike -satires on the really elegant company as they entered. -By and by Charlotte and Elizabeth simultaneously -started; Charlotte rose from her seat, and Miss Tyler -suddenly seized her arm, as if to detain her till some -surprise was explained, and leveled her quizzing-glass -deliberately at a group who were that moment exchanging -salutations with Mrs. Varley near the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is Mr. Style! that’s him! that splendid -figure!” whispered Charlotte, who had neither eyes -nor ears for any one else.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gracious, Charlotte Varley! what kind of company -do you entertain, for mercy’s sake!” very audibly -ejaculated Miss Tyler. “Upon my word, if there -isn’t my <span class='it'>mantuamaker</span>, Jessie Lincoln, invited to a -party to honor <span class='it'>us</span>, mamma! Isn’t that a pretty piece -of impudence! Well, I did think you were genteel -people, and decently aristocratic before—you Varleys!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Laud!” chimed the mamma, displaying her elegant -row of porcelain, and fanning herself vigorously, -“Who is the people that’s distinguished by such -elustrious visiters as <span class='it'>sewing-women</span>, and takes ’em -out into company? Don’t introduce <span class='it'>us</span>, Miss Varley!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Havn’t you got some tailoress girls, and school -ma’ams stowed away somewhere, Lottie, that you are -going to bring out, to give distinction to this <span class='it'>mélange</span>?” -sneered Elizabeth, in a lower tone, with a most contemptuous -smile, before Charlotte had time to recover -from her confusion enough to apologize that the company -was no more exclusively patrician.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is Mrs. Tower’s visiter,” stammered Charlotte, -in a whisper, as Mrs. Tyler and Elizabeth rose from -the sofa, and majestically walked a little aside, lest the -despised mantuamaker should approach near enough -to make an introduction inevitable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A <span class='it'>towering</span> specimen she must be!” punned -Elizabeth to Miss Emilie Jones, who had stood near -the sofa, leaning on the arm of her brother. The blood -mounted to Emilie’s forehead, in an angry flood, and -the bitterest retort rushed with the speed of lightning -to her lip.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush, Emilie,” softly whispered her more prudent -brother, as he saw the resentment of the insult to -her friends, flashing in luminous sparkles from her -black and brilliant eyes. “Silence is the ‘better part -of valor’ just now, sister!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Emilie darted from his side, and in a few minutes -she had clustered a charming circle of ladies and gentlemen -about Miss Lincoln, and by the most graceful -and assiduous attentions, she sought to banish the cruel -embarrassment and mortification Miss Tyler’s vulgar -rudeness had occasioned, for Jessie had instantly recognized -her, and guessed at the import of her contemptuous -remarks, by the inquiring eyes that were -immediately bent upon her, from the vicinity in which -Miss Tyler had made her communications. She did -not blush for the truth that she was poor, and had heretofore -gained her livelihood by the labor of her hands, -but the curious and somewhat disdainful glances which -she felt were directed toward her, chafed her sensitiveness -to its tenderest vitality. She did, indeed, -shrink from the charge of intrusion and presumption, -which she had no doubt many hearts were preferring -against her, however politeness might for the moment -peek to conceal it. Poor Jessie tried to appear composed -as if nothing had happened to pain her, but she -found her self-possession deserting her in her utmost -need. The hand that rested on Emilie’s arm trembled—the -great tears struggled into Jessie’s eyes—her -cheeks glowed one moment with the heat of a fever, -and the next her face was almost as colorless as the -white dress she wore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do take me to some less conspicuous place, -Emilie,” she whispered, “this cruel scrutiny kills me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Emilie did as she was requested, and apparently -without design, extricated her from the group around -her, led her to a seat by an open window, and sat -down by her, with so much sympathy and distress in -her usually joyous face, that poor Jessie was quite -overcome, and was obliged to screen herself with the -curtain to conceal her irrepressible tears. As she took -hold of the folds of the curtain, the massive drapery -fell, and so rich and dark was the velvet, that it entirely -concealed those within from those without, who were -gayly promenading the piazza, or lingering listlessly -in the moonlight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some movement diverted almost all the company -from the room, and also from the piazza near the -window where Jessie and Emilie were sitting, and the -same movement gave Mr. Style an unobserved opportunity -to join them. Emilie looked in his face—there -was a sternness and resentment in its expression -that puzzled her for a moment, it was so unlike him, -but his first remark solved her difficulty at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t be so distressed, Miss Lincoln—it is not -difficult to put the right interpretation—” and then he -<span class='pageno' title='171' id='Page_171'></span> -bit his lips to stay the wrathful thoughts that were -clamoring for utterance. A gleam of delight illuminated -Emilie’s eyes, and she involuntarily extended -her hand to him, in token of her sympathy with all he -had refrained from uttering.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah!” she said, and the bitterest scorn was in her -glance and tone, “you are a prudent man, I know, but -I am a fearless and reckless being, and I shall take the -liberty to read out the interpretation, you no doubt -wisely repress.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no, dear Emilie,” expostulated Jessie, “I -will beg Mrs. Tower to release me from my promise, -and I will go where I shall not involve my generous -friends in such painful and humiliating circumstances.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never! Jessie Lincoln, never!” warmly remonstrated -Emilie, “you shall—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was interrupted by the sound of footfalls and -smothered voices on the piazza without.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would not be an impertinent <a id='list'></a>listener,” she said, “but -I recognize Charlotte’s voice. Something of interest to -you, Mr. Style, I presume, for I hear your name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The footsteps drew nearer, and the voices grew -more clear and audible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now we are alone, Elizabeth,” said Charlotte, “I -must tell you my troubles. I had every reason to believe -Mr. Style was in love with me—mamma says I -had—and I have no doubt he was on the eve of a declaration, -which would have made me the proudest -and happiest creature in the world, when Mrs. Tower -brought about the advent of that minx of a low-bred -Jessie Lincoln, whose true place in the world you -have been good enough to disclose. How I do despise -her! I know Mrs. Tower got her here on purpose -to <span class='it'>foil</span> me. They say she manages admirably to -keep them together, and that Mistress Jessie is ready -to dog him everywhere, and throw herself eternally in -his way. And then that saucy Emilie Jones, my -worst enemy, sustains her in it all, and helps it forward. -I don’t know what ridiculous things that bewitched -mantuamaker wont do to raise herself into genteel -society, and save any more mantuamaking. But I declare, -Elizabeth, I shall <span class='it'>die</span> without him! What shall -I do? How shall I manage it? Come, you know?” -Charlotte’s voice began to tremble as if she were in -tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A crimson blush—but it was the blush of indignant -innocence—burnt Jessie’s face, neck and arms. She -rose to go, but Mr. Style, with contempt and disgust, -and utter indignation battling with discretion for the -mastery in every lineament of his face, gently drew -her to a seat again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do?” responded the heartless and unprincipled -Elizabeth, “why, let me think. He does somehow -seem to be a prize worth capturing, he is so stately and -handsome. I am not sure, Lottie, but I shall come -into the ranks to contend for him myself, ha! ha! ha! -At least you could afford me the pleasure of a flirtation, -just while I stay! I would not snap my finger, -however, for a little obscure country parson for a <span class='it'>husband</span>! -Well, I guess you must manage to get some -story into currency, that will give her an impulse back -to her patterns and fashion-plates, and make him a -chance to forget such a very meek and meaching face, -and sanctimonious demeanor; but mind you, don’t -mention your <span class='it'>authority</span>. I shall be terribly angry if -you do, for these sewing-girls get possession of a great -many things they might circulate to one’s disadvantage -you know—and they are so touchy and jealous, they -are really a very mischievous class of persons. But -let me tell you a fact. I lost a splendid bracelet that -cost me forty dollars at one dress-maker’s! I will not -mention her name, but you can make <span class='it'>your own inferences</span>!” -And Elizabeth Tyler and Charlotte Varley -maliciously giggled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I may draw <span class='it'>mine</span> too, may I not?” said Emilie -Jones, as she sprang to her feet, with dashing eyes and -indignation burning in every feature. Thrusting aside -the drapery, she presented herself on the piazza, with -an air as imperial as a second Zenobia defending the -honor of her Palmyra. But the offending parties had -hastily retreated, and mingled with the other guests -who were returning from a stroll in the beautiful garden, -which was gayly enough illuminated to be the trysting-place -of Houries.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be calm, Jessie—Miss Lincoln,” said Mr. Style, -as he drew her unresisting arm within his own. -“Such malice always works ruin to those who -cherish it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jessie’s wounded heart fluttered strangely. The -cruel and unprovoked injustice she suffered, awoke -her pride, and made her stronger in body and spirit, -while the mingling of the champion and the lover in Mr. -Style’s tone and manner reassured her, and restored -her self-possession. He placed her by the side of -Mrs. Tower, who was chatting agreeably, wholly -ignorant that any thing had occurred to disturb or distress -Jessie, then attached himself to one and another -circle, as he saw their entertainment flagging, and at -length he found himself by the side of Miss Charlotte -and her friend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Really, Mr. Style,” said Charlotte, as she laid her -small, fair hand on his arm, and looked up languidly -in his face; “you have been so choice of yourself -or so democratic to-night, I have hardly seen you -at all. Now it is your duty as a knight-errant, to make -yourself agreeable to my dearest friend, Miss Tyler.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Style was disgusted almost to loathing, and in -his soul he shrunk from the false and deceitful woman, -whose deliberate wickedness and folly his own senses -had so unwillingly attested. But he gallantly bowed -in obedience to Charlotte’s familiar challenge, and -addressed something very common-place to Miss -Tyler. She was transformed in a moment, and became -all vivacity, and wit, and life. She joked and -frolicked, and laughed till the attention of the company -was attracted, and poor Charlotte began to be most -cruelly jealous. Indeed, so entirely did Miss Tyler -attach herself to Mr. Style, that emancipation was -hopeless for the remainder of the evening. At a late -hour the guests departed; and painful, indeed, were -the disclosures Jessie made to Mrs. Tower, of the -misery and mortification she had endured so innocently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do let me go to-morrow, dear Mrs. Tower, my -mother; I can never endure that the humbleness of -my station should expose you to reproach like this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, Jessie,” replied Mrs. Tower, as she drew -<span class='pageno' title='172' id='Page_172'></span> -the weeping girl to her bosom. “You are my -own daughter now, and by an instrument legally -attested, no longer dependent on your own exertions, -but my chosen and acknowledged heiress. It is no -reproach to you, my dearest child, among those whose -true elevation of mind and character places them above -the necessity of those artificial props, which are -always called to sustain assumption—that you were -reared under the clouds of misfortune, or that your -own hands supported an invalid father and mother. -Jessie, I honor you for it, and the gift of a fortune is -but a trifling reward. Say no more about leaving me—you -cannot and you must not do it. Leave this -matter all to my ‘elder wisdom,’ and forget it in the -repose your mind and body need.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER V.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The following morning, as Mrs. Tower and Jessie -were sitting in the library, with Emilie Jones and her -brother, a servant brought in an awkwardly folded and -hastily written note, and presenting it to Jessie, informed -her that the bearer waited in the hall for a -reply. Jessie opened the unsealed paper and read:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Lincoln,—The buttons on my traveling dress, -which you made, do not give me any satisfaction. -This is for you to come to Mrs. Varley’s this afternoon, -directly after dinner, and alter them, and I shall -expect you to make no extra charge for it.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;margin-bottom:0.5em;'>“<span class='sc'>Elizabeth Tyler.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>“P. S. Mrs. Varley’s family would be willing to -employ you on my recommendation.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The color went and came in Jessie’s cheek, as she -read the deliberate insult the writer evidently intended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it, Jessie?” said Emilie, whose electrical -sympathy was instantly roused, “any thing more from -those abominable Tylers? Pray let me see?” Mrs. -Tower looked over Emilie’s shoulder as she read. -“What insolence! Jessie Lincoln, if I were only a -<span class='it'>man</span>, I am sure I should avenge your insult in single -combat! Why, brother, are <span class='it'>you</span> a man, and will you -see a lady treated like that?” she continued with -thrilling emphasis, throwing the note disdainfully out -of her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sister, I hope I am a man,” replied the young -naval officer, “but not quite so hot-headed and reckless -a man as <span class='it'>you</span> would have made. If you were on -board our vessel, I fear we might have our hands full -to keep you out of ‘affairs of honor!’ Miss Lincoln, I -presume,” he continued, laying down the note, while -a flush slowly crept to his forehead, “has wisdom -enough to manage with the contempt it deserves, so -very contemptible an assault!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will reply to it, Jessie,” said Mrs. Tower, as she -sat down before her writing-table and wrote:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Tower takes the liberty to decline for Miss -Lincoln, the proposition Miss Tyler has seen fit to -make, as the change in Miss Lincoln’s circumstances -and prospects renders any further intercourse with -Miss Tyler unbefitting entirely. That intercourse is -therefore at an end.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Jessie begged that any thing so like retaliation, -might not be sent, as Miss Tyler was unquestionably -instigated by the Varleys, who were too cowardly -to assail her only through a tool.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It becomes me, Jessie, to vindicate the honor of -my family, and I feel justified in checking such -effrontery, and foiling it with its own weapons,” insisted -Mrs. Tower.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes indeed!” said Emilie. “I’m glad of it, -Mrs. Tower, and I only wish <span class='it'>I</span> had the inditing of the -reply. It would scorch like a flame, I’m sure it -would, every word of it. Do, please charge me with -the delivery of the missive, Mrs. Tower! my fingers -ache for the commission, and I’ll add an oral appendix -on my <span class='it'>own</span> hook!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, no, Emilie,” replied Mrs. Tower, smiling; “I -appreciate your generous intention, but I fear your -enthusiasm and indignation might spoil your embassy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meantime the whole Varley family were indulging -in boisterous exultation over Elizabeth’s “capital -trick, to show a mantuamaker girl that she was out -of her reckoning when she sailed into <span class='it'>their</span> latitude—she -did not belong with <span class='it'>them</span>, no how you could fix -it;” for it must be humiliating, indeed, to be ordered -to such paltry service after deceiving such wealthy -and important people into showing her some distinguished -civilities. Charlotte said she “guessed it -would convince Mr. Style that there was something -to choose between an heiress and a servant!” Mrs. -Tyler simpered from behind her porcelain, that “it -would learn people to know their places—and one -<span class='it'>might</span> lose some <span class='it'>custom</span> by such a fraud on society—the -matter would not stop in a corner!” Annette declared -it was “too good.” Mrs. Varley echoed, as -usual, the respective opinions, as they came from the -mint, and Adelaide gleefully suggested that it “might -taste a little bitter to Mrs. Tower’s palate, as she made -such a prodigious favorite of the girl. For <span class='it'>her</span> part, -she expected Mrs. Tower would import a colony of -chimney-sweeps, to give brilliancy to society there, -she was so much the patron of the ‘lower classes!’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the reply came far sooner than it was looked -for, and exultation speedily changed hands with consternation. -What could it mean? “Change in her -circumstances and prospects!” What possible interpretation -could be applied to that? Charlotte fell into -hysterics, and screamed she “knew it could mean -nothing less than that Jessie Lincoln was engaged to -Mr. Style!” and to complete the excitement, she actually -fainted away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good gracious me!” stormed Miss Tyler, almost -choking with passion, “I should like to know what -‘change of circumstances and prospects,’ can license -an impertinent, presuming, poverty-pinched -hussy of a dress-maker to withdraw her acquaintance -from a lady of <span class='it'>my</span> position in the fashionable world! -Mother, did we tear ourselves from the importunities -of our city friends, and patronize these Varleys, for -such insulting treatment as this? Mrs. Varley, we did -not know you lived among Hottentots, or we should -have refused to come here, in the face of all your -urgency, every soul of you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Varley and her four conscious daughters, vituperated, -apologized, and appeased, as well as their -own choler would permit, the excited and wrathful -<span class='pageno' title='173' id='Page_173'></span> -visiters, who declared “they would leave the house -and the town immediately, and spread the story as -far as the newspapers would carry it, and that was -everywhere!” But it was finally suggested by the -daring Adelaide, that her mother should go to Mrs. -Tower, clothed with all the terror of their united resentment, -and demand a satisfactory explanation. -Especially was she commissioned to discover if possible -what sudden “change in circumstances and -prospects,” had set Jessie Lincoln upon such a pinnacle -over the heads of everybody.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I declare, girls,” said Mrs. Varley to her daughters, -in secret session, before she started on her errand, “I -do feel like pizon about this affair! I am half skart out -of my wits at such a breeze between us and Mrs. -Tower! I wish to the mercy we had never seen these -mischief-making Tylers! As if them that touches porcupines -mustn’t expect the quills! Or them that insults, -to be insulted back again. I don’t believe they -are half so <span class='it'>rich</span> and <span class='it'>uppercrust</span> as they pretend—and -then they make such a sight of trouble! Besides, you -know what I told you I surmised about Mrs. Tower. -If it <span class='it'>is</span> so, she will be sure to let me and other people -know it, if she hasn’t already!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girls all looked doubtfully at each other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish in my heart these Tylers would go,” said -Annette, “for of all the conceited trumpery old sights -that ever I saw, Mrs. Tyler is the foremost.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot express my detestation of Liz,” interrupted -Adelaide. “She is as false and cunning as the -very old snake himself, and bad as <span class='it'>I</span> am, I do think -<span class='it'>she</span> is worse!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Charlotte had come to life enough by this time to -mention Miss Tyler’s flirtation with Mr. Style, when -she was checked by Adelaide with,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush! she is coming—it’s said <span class='it'>somebody</span> is always -at hand when you are talking about him!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, do go quick, Mrs. Varley! Havn’t you got -ready <span class='it'>yet</span>? I’m terribly impatient for that woman’s -apology;” said Miss Tyler, as she unceremoniously -opened the door and thrust in her face. “But what -are you talking about with closed doors? <span class='it'>Us</span>, I presume! -You look caught, every one of you,” and Miss -Tyler turned up her disdainful nose, as if there would -be no further amity till she heard a disclaimer of that -offence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, no, no, Lizzie, my dear!” supplicated Mrs. -Varley, in her blandest and most conciliatory tone. -“Pray come right in, love, and cheer up these poor disconsolate -<a id='creat'></a>creatures while I am gone. Bring my hat -and parasol, Adelaide. Shameful, isn’t it, to drag a -body out in this briling sunshine, on such business?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We were saying,” remarked Adelaide, as she -handed the bonnet and parasol to her mother, “how -much we do despise these deceitful kind of upstarts, -who pretend to be so much more than they -really are!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the tendency of our American institootions,” -replied Elizabeth, in a tone more pacific, but very -affectedly sage, as she settled herself indolently into a -rocking-chair. “They encourage upstarts! You don’t -see nothing of this kind in England. For my part, I -think it devolves on the higher classes to—to—hem—” -she found herself unexpectedly wading beyond her -depth, and unfortunately afloat in the high flown piece -of wisdom she had started to express. Charlotte -hastened to the rescue, in a very luminous climax to -Miss Tyler’s halting proposition.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To let them know,” she interposed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, to let them know!” replied Elizabeth, with -clinching emphasis.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile Mrs. Varley was sailing majestically -along the street toward Mrs. Tower’s residence. Her -face was very brazen, but there was a trembling and -apprehension in her heart, which communicated itself -to her body, and her hand shook nervously as she -twitched the door-bell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is Mrs. Tower in?” she said to the servant who -opened the door, in a very sharp and insolent voice—and -before he had time to reply, she added, “go and -tell her that Mrs. Varley wishes to speak with her -alone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a few minutes Mrs. Tower entered the drawing-room, -her countenance and carriage as placid as if -never a breath had disturbed her. A cold and haughty -bow was the response she received to her polite and -polished greeting. Mrs. Varley seemed entirely at a -loss for her next measure—she was confused—exceedingly -confused, but the sternness of her coarse -features softened not a shadow. Mrs. Tower inquired -for the health of her family.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, ma’am! it becomes you to ask, I should think,” -retorted Mrs. Varley, very bitterly. “Did you write -this note, ma’am?” and she advanced toward Mrs. -Tower with the offending document.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did, indeed, Mrs. Varley,” replied Mrs. Tower, -as she just glanced at the note, and gave it back to -Mrs. Varley.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, you did! and you seem very cool and indifferent -about it, too, as if it was a small matter to insult a -genteel family like mine, just because we wont have -any thing to do with the lower clashes, nor uphold <span class='it'>you</span> -in it,” said Mrs. Varley, losing all control of herself, -and swelling her tones as she grew angrier and angrier, -to the keen and wiry pitch peculiar to the voice -of an excited woman. “I’ll thank you to tell me -what it means?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Precisely what it says,” replied Mrs. Tower, in a -low, calm voice; “but what do <span class='it'>you</span> mean by the -‘lower classes?’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I mean all <span class='it'>mantymakers</span>, and servants, and -tradespeople, and everybody that <span class='it'>works</span> for a livin’,” -quickly responded Mrs. Varley—she was fortified on -that point. “I’d have you to know that my family is -too rich and high up in the world to have any thing at all -to do with them sort of folks, whatever <span class='it'>yours</span> may be, -Mrs. Tower! But I know one’s bringing up has a -great deal to do with one’s genteelety—it don’t set -easy on everybody!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A very pertinent remark, Mrs. Varley,” replied -Mrs. Tower, with an effort to repress a smile. “I -conclude you do not embrace your visiters in your -catalogue of the ‘lower classes?’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, indeed! that’s what I don’t! they are very -wealthy, and fashionable, and high-bred people, and -know all the richest and fashionablest people in the -<span class='pageno' title='174' id='Page_174'></span> -city of New York; and what’s more, they know how -to resent an affront as well as some other folks—I guess -you will find out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must take the liberty to correct one of your -statements, madam,” replied Mrs. Tower. “Mr. -Tyler, the husband and father of your visiters, rents -his hardware store in New York of the business agent -of my adopted daughter and heiress, Miss Jessie Lincoln, -to whom I have given my estates in that city. -And, moreover, he is so deeply indebted for borrowed -capital, to support the extravagance of his wife and -daughter, that every farthing he possesses would not -liquidate his debt. So much for the wealth and independence -of the <span class='it'>tradesman’s</span> family. As to the -fashionable part of the story, without any arrogance I -may assert that my acquaintance for years has included -the first and wealthiest families in New York, -and I venture to affirm that in those circles Mrs. Tyler -and her designing daughter were never so much as -heard of!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Varley began to look crestfallen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” she rejoined, “I don’t know but it <span class='it'>may</span> be -so, but I have no reason to think it is. At any rate, -they don’t hug up mantymakers, and take ’em out -visiting with them!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Varley,” replied Mrs. Tower, rising from -her chair and assuming a moral majesty before which -her narrow-souled assailant quailed, “I acknowledge -it is exasperation which prompts to the disclosure of -another truth, which may sound rather painfully to -your pride. I deplore the occasion, but you have -really driven me to it, in order to vindicate the dignity -of my family, which you have willfully wounded. -Mrs. Varley, <span class='it'>you</span> were a servant in my father’s house—you -contracted a vicious and disgraceful marriage -with a servant in a large gambling establishment in the -city of Baltimore, where we then resided, and when -you ran away with your husband—my <span class='it'>casket</span> of <span class='it'>jewels</span> -went with you! I <span class='it'>saw</span> you take it, but I forebore to -expose you to my father, because I pitied your sin -and folly, and I knew the severity of his sense of justice -and injury would pursue you without mercy, so -he died in ignorance of your crime. You lived in -degradation and poverty for years and years, and I -have seen those fastidious daughters of yours, now so -sensitive lest they should be contaminated by contact -with what you are pleased to call the “lower classes,” -ragged and hungry in the streets of C., while I lived -in that city with my departed husband. And more than -once have I carried food and clothing to the miserable -abode you called your home. Do you remember your -own almost mortal illness when the cholera scourged -that city? Some fortunate stakes at the gaming-table -subsequently put Mr. Varley in possession of considerable -sums of money, and the diligent pursuit of the -same vicious business for many successful years, has -put you and your family in possession of an independent -fortune. For these facts I can refer you to authorities -if you will. Now, have I read this chapter of -your private history correctly?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Varley turned every imaginable color as the -relation proceeded—pale, red, speckled and spotted. -She was utterly confounded for a moment, and then -she exclaimed, as she seized Mrs. Tower’s passive -hand in both her own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Josepha Gordon! I have sometimes thought it -must be the same!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Josepha Gordon was my maiden name,” replied -Mrs. Tower, calmly yet sorrowfully watching the -whirlwind in poor Mrs. Varley’s soul. “Twenty -years, and bitter sorrows, have wrought more changes -in me than fortune has in <span class='it'>you</span>, Cynthia Varley. But -have I spoken truly?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Varley could scarcely reply; she sunk down -upon the sofa completely overcome. Mortification -and deep humiliation seemed to paralyze her faculties. -Tears, and sobs, and groans, right pitiful to witness -followed. One moment a storm of furious passion -rose in her bosom, and the next a torrent of tears -poured over her cheeks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is all true,” she stammered at length; “but O -don’t, for mercy’s sake, don’t expose us! It would -be our ruin, our utter ruin, and I am sure I have suffered -enough already. I will restore your jewels -fourfold,” and she began nervously working at a magnificent -diamond that sparkled on her bosom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep the jewels, Mrs. Varley. I do not need -them, neither will I accept what you have so long -called your own,” said Mrs. Tower mildly. “I know -not what remorseful visitings have struggled in your -heart, but if they had wrought a moral renovation -there, I would have left this painful story in oblivion, -and spared you so much humiliation. Believe me, -Mrs. Varley, <span class='it'>money</span> is not the true criterion in estimating -respectability or character, as you seem to -judge. That man is poor indeed who only possesses -heaps of shining gold, though so great he cannot count -their value—but the wealth garnered in the heart, the -gems of virtue set around the immortal soul, are the -only imperishable riches, which are the legitimate and -justifiable ambition of an imperishable nature. I will -keep your secret sacredly, as I have kept it these many -years that we have been neighbors and acquaintances. -I will only exhort you to remember, madam, that there -is nothing dishonorable in honest, laborious, physical -industry—the working with one’s hands. The fact -that my beloved Jessie toiled to provide for the comfort -of her sick and indigent parents, and discharged -with her own noble efforts all their pecuniary obligations, -only renders her more admirable in my estimation, -and worthier to receive the inheritance I feel -honored to bestow upon her. Hereafter she will be -recognized as my own daughter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Varley was perfectly subdued. The character -of the lady she had come armed to annihilate, stood -out sublimely before her, in contrast with her own -conscious duplicity and assumption—humbled and silenced -she rose to go, with very much the feeling of -an arrogant general vanquished and routed, and forced -into a disgraceful and disordered retreat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My pen is unequal to the description of the scene at -Mrs. Varley’s own house, when she at length reached -home, and detailed to her daughters the whole story, -and relieved the suspense of her guests, by so much -of it as related to themselves. Mrs. Tyler and Elizabeth -decided to leave in the first train the next morning, -<span class='pageno' title='175' id='Page_175'></span> -bearing with them any thing but the cordiality and -good wishes of their hostess and her five daughters, -who gave the “metropolitan friends” definitely to understand -that they regarded themselves most scandalously -imposed upon, by the shabbiest of pretenders, -and that any further acquaintance would be unthought -of, which complimentary farewells the guests fiercely -retorted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Varley very shortly concluded that the health -of her family, which, in truth, had suffered somewhat -by their unexpected defeats, required journeying; and -in a few days the house was closed, the servants discharged, -and the household had departed, rumor said -to spend the winter in Cuba. And not long after the -citizens of N. were very much astonished by an advertisement -in the papers, stating that “the entire -establishment lately occupied by Mrs. Cynthia Varley, -deceased, would be sold at public auction on such a -day—house, grounds, furniture, plate, horses and carriages, -etc., and that the sale must be positive, for -cash.” Subsequently the melancholy report was confirmed, -that Mrs. Varley and her fair and beautiful -Charlotte were taken with violent fever on their journey -southward, and had both died. The fate of the -survivors remained in mystery, as the administrator of -the estate had no liberty to communicate their place -of residence, or their future intentions. No doubt they -chose some fashionable resort, and I fear became the -prey of fortune-hunters.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Tyler, on her return to New York, found not only -that her husband was bankrupt, and his affairs in a state -of irretrievable ruin, but his mind also was a perfect -wreck, fluctuating between idiocy and insanity, but its -coloring always that of the most hopeless depression. -Jessie Lincoln’s bounty long supported him at a lunatic -asylum, while his wife and Elizabeth managed to support -themselves by the proceeds of a small millinery shop.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The revolution of a few years brought some interesting -changes over the society of N. Jessie Lincoln, -the faithful and dutiful daughter, became the beloved -and lovely wife of—“The Rev. Mr. Style of course!” -cries my hasty reader. “Who ever read a story -where the hero and heroine were not finally married? -it is an event to be fully anticipated.” Then, indeed, -is my tale a novel one. Be not too confident in coming -to conclusions, because precedents happen to be in -their favor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jessie Lincoln became the beloved and lovely wife -of Lieutenant George Jones! I do not know but she -would have married Mr. Style, if, like too many others, -he had not lingered in the vestibule of the temple of -Hymen till another hand lighted the torch, and proudly -stood beside her at the altar. The heart of Jessie Lincoln -was irrevocably given, with all its wealth of love -to the young naval officer, and the minister was left to -regret his too confident and presumptuous delay when -regrets were unavailing. But Jessie was a “mourning -bride”—for only a few weeks after her marriage, -her noble and beloved patroness sickened and died, -leaving Jessie and her husband the proprietors of her -tasteful and elegant mansion, and the principal heirs to -her estate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But did Mr. Style—such a fine young man, and so -royally gifted, consign himself to a gloomy celibacy, -and live and die a bachelor—‘which being interpreted,’ -is <span class='it'>half a man</span>?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nay, reader, I’ll hasten to tell you that Emilie -Jones, that wild, hair-brained, passionate, but truly -generous and high-minded Emilie, learned lessons of -gentleness and piety, and married—because they mutually -and earnestly loved—the young clergyman of -the church of N.; and by bequest of Mrs. Tower, -the beautiful residence of the Varleys became the village -manse, and their lovely home!</p> - -<hr class='tbk117'/> - -<div><h1><a id='inez'></a>TO INEZ.—AT FLORENCE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY S. D. ANDERSON.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I wonder how thou look’st,</p> -<p class='line0'>  In thy home far, far away,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where thy voice, like Summer’s streamlet,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Is singing all the day.</p> -<p class='line0'>Is thine eye as bright as ever?</p> -<p class='line0'>  Have thy footsteps lost their bound,</p> -<p class='line0'>That they had when last we listened</p> -<p class='line0'>  To the moonlit ocean’s sound?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Has thy young heart quit its dreaming,</p> -<p class='line0'>  ’Neath thy own pure sunny skies,</p> -<p class='line0'>In those nights when stars are vieing</p> -<p class='line0'>  With the lustre of thine eyes?</p> -<p class='line0'>When the dreams of youth were flinging</p> -<p class='line0'>  Their roses round thy way,</p> -<p class='line0'>’Mid the perfumed airs of spring-time—</p> -<p class='line0'>  That herald in life’s May.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Say, does the Arno run as clear,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Beside thy palace walls,</p> -<p class='line0'>As when upon its waves we looked</p> -<p class='line0'>  From out thy father’s halls?</p> -<p class='line0'>Music was there when last I pressed</p> -<p class='line0'>  My lips upon thy brow.</p> -<p class='line0'>And left thee—eye, and voice, and form,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Are all but <span class='it'>memory</span> now.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But memory, such as o’er the heart</p> -<p class='line0'>  Its rainbow arch still throws,</p> -<p class='line0'>As bright as when on ocean’s breast</p> -<p class='line0'>  Its sunlit beauty glows—</p> -<p class='line0'>Is with me now; the forest shade,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The brook, the flower, the tree,</p> -<p class='line0'>The tones of music ’mid the night,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Are peopled all with thee.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Then, Inez, in that distant clime,</p> -<p class='line0'>  If still thou think’st of me,</p> -<p class='line0'>At evening when thou goest out</p> -<p class='line0'>  Upon the tranquil sea,</p> -<p class='line0'>Our souls shall meet—for kindred ones,</p> -<p class='line0'>  That bow at memory’s shrine,</p> -<p class='line0'>Oft meet in dreams, and thus my heart</p> -<p class='line0'>  Shall often join with thine.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk118'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='176' id='Page_176'></span><h1><a id='comm'></a>COMMUNION OF THE SEA AND SKY.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY ELVIRA JONES.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>It was a night whose starry ray</p> -<p class='line0'>E’en matched the brilliant hue of day,</p> -<p class='line0'>A night replete with gifts of June—</p> -<p class='line0'>A flowery earth and silver moon.</p> -<p class='line0'>Sleep softly waved her opiate rod,</p> -<p class='line0'>And stilled all things on earth’s green sod.</p> -<p class='line0'>The ocean slept, so gently breathing,</p> -<p class='line0'>Scarce I marked its bosom’s heaving.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>In em’rald couch the flow’rs reposed,</p> -<p class='line0'>The violet’s azure eye was closed;</p> -<p class='line0'>The balmy, odor-laden air</p> -<p class='line0'>Scarce stirred beneath its burden rare,</p> -<p class='line0'>Though oft a slumbering breeze would wake,</p> -<p class='line0'>And on its harp sweet music make;</p> -<p class='line0'>The list’ning waves would catch the lay,</p> -<p class='line0'>With silver lutes so sweet they’d play</p> -<p class='line0'>That e’en the peerless nightingale,</p> -<p class='line0'>Warbling within some quiet vale,</p> -<p class='line0'>Would cease his matchless melody,</p> -<p class='line0'>To list, and dare no rivalry.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>At last a swifter breeze did come</p> -<p class='line0'>Down from its far off heavenly home;</p> -<p class='line0'>Bright dew-drops on its wings it bore,</p> -<p class='line0'>The fairest gems of midnight’s store;</p> -<p class='line0'>O’er all the earth like stars they lie,</p> -<p class='line0'>As if to imitate the sky;</p> -<p class='line0'>Brighter than monarch’s sparkling gem</p> -<p class='line0'>Was the lowly flow’ret’s diadem.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Methought indeed ’twas <span class='it'>love’s</span> own hour—</p> -<p class='line0'>He could not choose a fairer bower—</p> -<p class='line0'>A scene so still, so void of strife,</p> -<p class='line0'>So stirless, yet replete with life.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>A lily by a rose-bud stood,</p> -<p class='line0'>Partaking of its honey food,</p> -<p class='line0'>With tender and confiding grace</p> -<p class='line0'>They waved to each a fond embrace.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>A star in the far azure sky</p> -<p class='line0'>Heard a murm’ring streamlet’s sigh,</p> -<p class='line0'>His image in her bosom still</p> -<p class='line0'>He saw, and blessed the gentle rill.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>A zephyr sought the rose’s bower,</p> -<p class='line0'>To serenade the lovely flower,</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet all unlike the constant star,</p> -<p class='line0'>He sees the streamlet from afar.</p> -<p class='line0'>For her forsakes his tender rose,</p> -<p class='line0'>To her his love would fain disclose;</p> -<p class='line0'>She trembled at his light caress,</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Yet kept the image in her breast</span>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Sudden a voice that came along,</p> -<p class='line0'>As softly as a fairy’s song,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or like the wind-harp’s faintest sigh,</p> -<p class='line0'>That scarcely lives ere it doth die,</p> -<p class='line0'>Folded the pinions of my thought,</p> -<p class='line0'>And deep and mute attention brought—</p> -<p class='line0'>’Twas the voice of the far off sky</p> -<p class='line0'>Whisp’ring its scarce heard melody</p> -<p class='line0'>To its kindred sea, whose list’ning waves</p> -<p class='line0'>Scarce stirred within their azure caves.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Ocean, sleepest thou thy nightly rest?</p> -<p class='line0'>Or with thy weight of stars so prest,</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou canst not hear my lay of love,</p> -<p class='line0'>My wooing whispers from above?</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy brilliant burden I will lift,</p> -<p class='line0'>Awhile withdraw my nightly gift;</p> -<p class='line0'>My graceful clouds shall intervene,</p> -<p class='line0'>No more thy brilliant load is seen.</p> -<p class='line0'>Now listen to my nightly song,</p> -<p class='line0'>My voice unheard to mortal throng.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“How strange none mark our sympathy,</p> -<p class='line0'>And yet how like I am to thee.</p> -<p class='line0'>My voice to thee a passage finds</p> -<p class='line0'>In music of the tuneful winds,</p> -<p class='line0'>While soft thy murm’ring waves reply</p> -<p class='line0'>With a sound more faint than joy’s sigh.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“I gaze at thee with eyes of light,</p> -<p class='line0'>With loving look, from orbs as bright,</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou answer’st me. My beams I send,</p> -<p class='line0'>As messengers to thee. They lend</p> -<p class='line0'>A golden chariot to thy waves,</p> -<p class='line0'>In which they leave their dark blue caves</p> -<p class='line0'>And joyously to me they come;</p> -<p class='line0'>Though grieved to leave their native home,</p> -<p class='line0'>In purple mansions here they dwell,</p> -<p class='line0'>But mark thy bosom’s sorrowing swell,</p> -<p class='line0'>And weary of their absence long,</p> -<p class='line0'>Again they seek their home of song.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Within thy bosom hidden lie,</p> -<p class='line0'>Fair pearls unseen to mortal eye—</p> -<p class='line0'>I, too, have jewels e’n more bright—</p> -<p class='line0'>My dew-drop gems, which deck the night.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“In their blue home thy gold-fish rove—</p> -<p class='line0'>I, too, have children whom to love,</p> -<p class='line0'>My fairy birds who sport along,</p> -<p class='line0'>Here in their happy world of song.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The voice was still. The ocean sighed,</p> -<p class='line0'>In harp-like tones its waves replied—</p> -<p class='line0'>“Our converse, unperceived by men,</p> -<p class='line0'>Still lasts, though sound is hushed, e’en then,</p> -<p class='line0'>Though winds are still, nor waves rejoice,</p> -<p class='line0'>I speak to thee in silence’s voice.</p> -<p class='line0'>What gives to us our hue of love,</p> -<p class='line0'>This azure tint, below, above?</p> -<p class='line0'>It is our <span class='it'>depth</span>, unseen, profound,</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>In shallow-hearted man ne’er found</span>.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The voice of the sea was hushed.</p> -<p class='line0'>A fairy cloud the heavens brushed,</p> -<p class='line0'>And tears of joy the sky was weeping,</p> -<p class='line0'>Aroused the wavelets lightly sleeping,</p> -<p class='line0'>They sprang to meet so playfully,</p> -<p class='line0'>A union ’twas of sea and sky.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk119'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i100f.jpg'> -<img src='images/i100.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0004' style='width:500px;height:auto;'/> -</a> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>THE BULLFINCH.</span><br/> <br/>Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine by F. Humphrys from an original drawing</p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk120'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='177' id='Page_177'></span><h1><a id='birds'></a>COLORED BIRDS.—THE BULLFINCH.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>FROM BECHSTEIN.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:0.9em;'>[SEE ENGRAVING.]</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This is one of the indigenous tame birds which is a -favorite with the rich and noble. Its body is thick and -short. Its whole length is six inches and three-quarters, -of which the tail measures two and three-quarters; -the beak is only six lines in length, short, thick, and -black; the iris is chestnut-colored; the shanks eight -lines high, and black; the top of the head, the circle of -the beak, the chin, and beginning of the throat, are of -a beautiful velvet black; the upper part of the neck, -the back and shoulders, deep gray; the rump white; -the under part of the neck, the wide breast, and to the -centre of the belly, are of a fine vermilion, less bright, -however, in the young than old; the blackish pen-feathers -become darker toward the body; the secondaries -have the outer edge of an iron blue, which in -the hinder ones is reddish. The tail is rather forked, -and of a brilliant black, tinged with iron-blue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The female is easily distinguished from the male, -for what is red on him is reddish-gray on her, while -her back is of a brownish-gray, and her feet are not so -black; she is also smaller.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This species has some singular varieties; the principal -are:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>1. The <span class='it'>White Bullfinch</span>, which is of an ashy-white, -or wholly white, with dark spots on the back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>2. The <span class='it'>Black Bullfinch</span>. These are most generally -females, which become black, either with age, when -they are only fed on hemp seed, or with having been -kept when young in a totally dark place. Some resume -at their moulting their natural colors, others remain -black; but this black is not the same in all; some -are of a brilliant raven black, others dull, and not so -dark on the belly; in some the head only is of a raven -black, the rest of the body being duller; in others the -black is mixed with red spots on the belly, or the latter -is entirely red. I have seen one in which the head -and breast, as well as the upper and under parts of the -body, were of a raven black, every other part of a dull -black, with the wings and tail white; it was a very -handsome bird, rather larger than a redbreast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>3. The <span class='it'>Speckled Bullfinch</span>. It is thus called, for, -besides its natural colors, it is spotted with black and -white, or white and ash color.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>4. The <span class='it'>Mongrel Bullfinch</span>. It is the offspring of a -female reared in the house from the nest, and of a -male canary. Its shape and color partake of those of -the parent birds; its note is very agreeable, and softer -than that of the canary; but it is very scarce. This -union rarely succeeds; but when tried, a very ardent -and spirited canary should be chosen.<a id='r5'/><a href='#f5' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[5]</span></sup></a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>5. The other varieties are: the <span class='it'>Large Bullfinch</span>, -about the size of a thrush, and the <span class='it'>Middling</span>, or -<span class='it'>Common</span>. As to dwarf birds, which are not as large -as a chaffinch, it is a bird-catcher’s story, for this difference -in size is observed in all kinds of birds. I can -affirm it with the more certainty, having had opportunities -every year of seeing hundreds of these birds, -both wild and tame. I have even in the same nest -found some as small as redbreasts, and others as large -as a crossbill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Habitation.</span>—When wild, bullfinches are found -over Europe and Russia. They are particularly common -in the mountainous forests of Germany. The male -and female never separate during the whole year. In -winter they wander about everywhere in search of -buds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Food.</span>—When wild the bullfinch does not often -suffer from the failure of its food; for it eats pine and -fir seeds, the fruit of the ash and maple, corn, all kinds -of berries, the buds of the oak, beech, and pear trees, -and even linseed, millet, rape, and nettle seed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the house those which run about may be fed on -the universal paste, and, for a change, rape seed may -be added; those which are taught must be fed only on -poppy seed, with a little hemp seed, and now and then -a little biscuit without spice. It has been remarked -that those which are fed entirely on rape seed soaked -in water live much longer, and are more healthy. The -hemp seed is too heating, sooner or later blinds them, -and always brings on a decline. A little green food, -such as lettuce, endive, chickweed, water-cresses, a -little apple, particularly the kernels, the berries of the -service tree, and the like, is agreeable and salutary to -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Breeding.</span>—These tenderly affectionate birds can -hardly live when separated from one another. They -incessantly repeat their call with a languishing note, -and continually caress. They can sometimes be made -to breed in the house, like the canary, but their eggs -are rarely fruitful. In the wild state they breed twice -every year, each time laying from three to six eggs, of -a bluish white, spotted with violet and brown at the -large end. Their nest, which they build in the most -retired part of a wood, or in a solitary quickset hedge, -is constructed with little skill, of twigs which are -covered with moss. The young ones are hatched -in fifteen days. Those which are to be taught -must be taken from the nest when the feathers of -the tail begin to grow; and must be fed only on rape -seed soaked in water and mixed with white bread; -eggs would kill them or make them blind. Their -plumage is then of a dark ash-color, with the wings -and tail blackish-brown; the males may be known at -first by their reddish breast; so that when these only -are wished to be reared they may be chosen in the nest, -<span class='pageno' title='178' id='Page_178'></span> -for the females are not so beautiful, nor so easily -taught.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Although they do not warble before they can feed -themselves, one need not wait for this to begin their -instruction,<a id='r6'/><a href='#f6' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[6]</span></sup></a> for it will succeed better, if one may say -so, when infused with their food; since experience -proves that they learn those airs more quickly, and -remember them better, which they have been taught -just after eating. It has been observed several times, -that these birds, like the parrots, are never more attentive -than during digestion. Nine months of regular and -continued instruction are necessary before the bird acquires -what amateurs call firmness, for if one ceases -before this time, they spoil the air, by suppressing or -displacing the different parts, and they often forget it -entirely at their first moulting. In general it is a good -thing to separate them from the other birds, even after -they are perfect; because, owing to their great quickness -in learning, they would spoil the air entirely by -introducing wrong passages; they must be helped to -continue the song when they stop, and the lesson must -always be repeated whilst they are moulting, otherwise -they will become mere chatterers, which would -be doubly vexatious after having had much trouble in -teaching them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Diseases.</span>—Those bullfinches which are caught in a -snare or net are rarely ill, and may be preserved for -eight years or more; but those reared from the nest -are subject to many diseases, caused by their not having -their natural food, or by those injurious delicacies -which are always lavished on favorite birds; they -rarely live more than six years. The surest means of -preserving them healthy for a long time, is to give -them neither sweets nor tit-bits of any kind, scrupulously -to confine their food to rape seed, adding now -and then a very little hemp seed to please them, and a -good deal of the green food before mentioned. The -bottom of their cages should be covered with river -sand, as the bird there finds some stones which aid the -functions of the stomach. Their most frequent diseases -are moulting, costiveness, diarrhœa, epilepsy, grief, -and melancholy, in which case they are quite silent, -and remain immovable, unless the cause can be discovered. -They must not be given any delicacy, and -must be fed entirely on soaked rape seed. A clove in -their water, proper food, and particularly a good deal -of refreshing green food, enables them to pass the -moulting time in good health.</p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_5'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f5'><a href='#r5'>[5]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>However difficult this pairing may be, it sometimes -succeeds very well. A bullfinch and female canary once -produced five young ones, which died on a journey which -they could not bear. Their large beak, and the blackish -down with which they were covered, showed that they -were more like their father than mother.—<span class='it'>Translator.</span></p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_6'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f6'><a href='#r6'>[6]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>I do not recommend the employment of bird organs -for instructing birds, because they are rarely accurate, -and their notes are harsh and discordant; for bullfinches -repeat the sounds exactly as they hear them, whether -harsh or false, according to the instrument used. The -good and pure whistling of a man of taste is far preferable; -the bird repeats it in a soft, flute-like tone. When one -cannot whistle well it is better to use a flageolet.—<span class='it'>Translator.</span></p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk121'/> - -<div><h1><a id='time'></a>TIME AND CHANGE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY ISAAC GRAY BLANCHARD.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Time’s flood sweeps on with ceaseless flow,</p> -<p class='line0'>And o’er all things that are below</p> -<p class='line0'>Change hath his empire: every day</p> -<p class='line0'>Some object testifies his sway,</p> -<p class='line0'>The falling leaf, the fading flower</p> -<p class='line0'>Show Change and Death are Nature’s dower;</p> -<p class='line0'>And every day that passes o’er us</p> -<p class='line0'>Takes something time shall not restore us;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Some dear delight, some hope in blossom,</p> -<p class='line0'>Some cherished memory from our bosom,</p> -<p class='line0'>Some holy impulse which Heaven lent us</p> -<p class='line0'>When first on life’s fair voyage it sent us,</p> -<p class='line0'>Some sunny hue of childhood bright,</p> -<p class='line0'>That blest us with its lingering light,</p> -<p class='line0'>Some pleasant friend, some earthly stay,</p> -<p class='line0'>We fondly hoped to keep for aye,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>These hearts of ours, though once so bright,</p> -<p class='line0'>Have less and less of love’s young light;</p> -<p class='line0'>The world has lost the charm it had,</p> -<p class='line0'>Even Nature seems less green and glad,</p> -<p class='line0'>And from our bosoms, shut and lone,</p> -<p class='line0'>Faith, like a beauteous bird, has flown.</p> -<p class='line0'>O, Time and Change! how strong ye be!</p> -<p class='line0'>How unlike what we were are we!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk122'/> - -<div><h1><a id='heart'></a>WOMAN’S HEART:—A SONNET.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>FOR JULIA.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY REV. RUFUS HENRY BACON.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Like to a calm and placid inland bay,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Hemmed in by leafy solitudes and hills</p> -<p class='line0'>That ward the ruder winds, and kindly stay</p> -<p class='line0'>  The tempest—where the forest song-bird fills</p> -<p class='line0'>Its peaceful shores with music through the day,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And moonlit silence claims the evening hours—</p> -<p class='line0'>  On whose sweet borders bloom the choicest flowers—</p> -<p class='line0'>A woman’s heart should be. In which alway</p> -<p class='line0'>The cloudless heavens may smile, and gentlest ray</p> -<p class='line0'>Of stars glide down, to emblem forth the sway</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of purity and truth, and happiness</p> -<p class='line0'>  Made up of innocence and loveliness</p> -<p class='line0'>Of soul—so rarely found in this sad world of ours,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where evil mars the good, and wastes divinest powers.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk123'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='179' id='Page_179'></span><h1><a id='story'></a>A TRAVELER’S STORY.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. LYDIA JANE PEIRSON.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We had been out since early morning, rambling -amid the rough romance of the Scottish Highlands, in -the vicinity of the far-famed Loch Katrine. With Sir -Walter’s picture of that “burnished sheet of living -gold,” with its surrounding hills broken by <a id='tros'></a>trossach, -dell and valley, in my mind’s eye, I own that I felt -disappointed, as I stood upon an isolated rock at the -foot of “huge Ben-Venue,” and looked up to the -feathered crests of the eternal <span class='it'>mountains</span>, (by courtesy,) -and then gazed where Katrine</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“In all her length far winding lay,</p> -<p class='line0'> With promontory, creek and bay,</p> -<p class='line0'> And islands that empurpled bright</p> -<p class='line0'> Flouted amid the livelier light.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>The scene <span class='it'>was</span> grand, and very beautiful, and no soul -can be more susceptible than mine to the beauties of -Nature in her solitudes of mountain, lake and woodland; -but I had expected too much. It needed the -love light of Sir Walter’s Scottish heart to give the -scenery, in my eyes, the loveliness it wore for him. -To me the rough hill, with its shingly bosom, its tufts -of heather, and ravines fringed with yellow broom, -and feathery fern—the precipitous rocks and wooded -slopes—the pebbly beach and abrupt headland—the -cloud-checkered heaven above—and the deep, clear -lake that mirrored all these in its trembling bosom, -were but as the multitudes of hills and lakes, which -every where diversify the surface of our earth. I was -disappointed, and of course inclined to underrate the -real beauty and sublimity of the grand theatre by which -we were surrounded. The enthusiastic admiration -which burst in ejaculatory phrases from my companions -became distasteful to me; and partly to relieve -my own peevishness, and partly to escape from the -distasteful demonstrations of the company, I struck -into a narrow path that wound spirally along up the -precipitous rocky tower at the base of which I had -been standing. Higher and higher I ascended, botanizing -amongst the plants and lichens, until a stone on -which I placed my foot gave way beneath the effort I -made to spring higher, and alas for my <span class='it'>excelsior</span>—after -a rapid but very rough descent, I found myself -prostrate on the pebbly beach—half buried in rubbish, -and the faithless stone that betrayed my unwary foot -lying very uncomfortably upon what should have been -my lower limbs, though at that time they were elevated -considerably above my head, fixed, as in a vice, -between a hillock of pebbles and the fallen mass of -rock. Great was my fright, greater my pain, and -greatest the consternation and alarm of my companions, -who soon extricated the fallen greatness from its perilous -position, and discovered that one of my legs was -badly fractured, and both severely crushed, while -several serious bruises, in other parts of my person, -rendered me quite helpless, and apparently in great -danger. What now was to be done? There was a -real tempest of sighs, groans, and lamentations, and no -small shower of tears; a goodly number of which fell -from the dark eyes of dear little Charlotte M’Lane, a -perfect highland fairy, who had been the joy beam of -the party, through the day; ever moving, and never -weary, glad herself, and gladdening all around her. -Now she sat amid the cloaks which were spread for -my accommodation, on a heap of gathered fern, and -supported my head in her lap, soothing, condoling, and -weeping by turns—or all together. And I, notwithstanding -my sorry plight, felt a queer kind of pleasure -in being the object of such care and solicitude, to one -so young, so lovely, and so joyous-hearted. But what -was to be done? Night was gathering her shadows -in the dells—and though the day had been fine, we began -to feel that</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Not the summer solstice there</p> -<p class='line0'> Tempers the midnight mountain air.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>There seemed no means of conveying my poor mangled -carcass along the rugged paths of that broken district, -and despair seemed gathering with the gloom of the -evening.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Just at this juncture, a young man who stood above -me on a crag burst out with a tremendous hallo-o!! -and continued to shout boisterously, and wave his -square yard of perfumed linen, with a grotesque earnestness. -It was soon apparent that he was signaling -a boat, which appeared to be crossing the lake, half a -mile above us, and which was rendered visible by</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“The western wave of ebbing day.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>She returns my signal, cried Harry, jumping from his -eminence, and immediately roaring out that he had -sprained his ankle most unmercifully. Our comrades -drew off his boot, and using it in place of a pitcher, -commenced pouring water on the injured limb. Meantime -the boat approached us, a commodious yacht -built craft, carrying two oarsmen and a young highlander, -who realized my idea of Sir William Wallace, -for he was at once the most beautiful, noble and unconscious -creature that my eyes ever rested on. Addressing -us with a lofty and yet gentle courtesy, he -inquired in what way he could be of service to us. -Our forlorn condition was soon explained to him, and -it was speedily settled that he should convey Harry, -myself, and fairy Charlotte, to his mountain home, -while one of his boatmen should pilot the residue of -the party to the main road, where we had left our -carriages. The young Scotsman, whose name was -Malcomb Douglas, assured us that we should receive -both medical and surgical attendance at his father’s -house, where we should be welcome until we were -recovered of our injuries, or until we were pleased to -leave. My couch was speedily transferred to the bow -of the boat, and dear, lovely Charlotte was soon again -burdened with my languid head, for by this time I was -both dispirited and faint. I took no note of the voyage, -except that our benefactor took the place at the oar of -him whom he had sent as guide to our party; and long -<span class='pageno' title='180' id='Page_180'></span> -before we landed the night was dark, for the young -moon, which shed a trembling radiance on the opposite -mountain shore, left our side of the deep, dark -water in a blacker shadow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length we landed, and I had become so stiff and -sore, from my undrest injuries, that I lost my consciousness -as they lifted me from the boat, and on the -ninth day after, awoke to find myself in a magnificently -furnished room, lying in a bed which might have beseemed -a monarch, while near my pillow, in an antique -velvet-cushioned easy-chair, reclined my fairy -Charlotte, in a deep but apparently troubled sleep. I -soon recollected all that had befallen me, except the -lapse of time since the memorable night, and thinking -that we had recently arrived, did not wonder that -Charlotte had sunk under her fatigue. So I composed -myself to sleep and kept her company in the land of -dreams.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I awoke again. It was still night, at least it seemed -so in that darkened apartment, but I could distinguish -the rich and heavy ornaments of the walls and ceiling, -and the sumptuous embroidery of the heavy tapestries, -which swept from the lofty cornice to the floor; the -antique chair also stood by the bedside, but its late -occupant was not there. I moved, and raised my head -somewhat from the pillow, when from the concealment -of my bed-curtain came forward a stately lady, -apparently fifty years of age, wearing a rich dress of -black satin, and holding a small golden night-lamp in -her hand. She looked earnestly into my eyes a moment, -and then with a gentle grace, which betrayed -no surprise or other emotion, she inquired how I had -rested, and if I found myself better of my wounds. -I replied that I felt quite well, when she shook her -head, bade me be quiet, and took her seat in the vacant -chair. Presently Charlotte stole softly into the room -from a curtained recess, and meeting my smile of recognition, -uttered a cry of joy, laughed, danced, wrung -her hands, and finally wept like an infant, despite all -the efforts of the dark-robed lady to quiet her transports. -I now discovered that I had been a week delirious, -and considered in a very precarious condition; -that Harry was nearly well, and that he and Charlotte -had been my constant attendants, aided by the lady -present, and other members of her household. Soon -after a silvery haired old man, came to my bedside, -and being introduced as my physician, congratulated -me with courteous politeness on the favorable change -in my condition, adding that with proper care my recovery -would be certain and speedy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Did you ever enjoy the luxury of an easy convalescence, -surrounded by every comfort, and attended -by a smiling beauty, and jovial young companion? -What Elysium-like dreams employ the languid fancy—and -what a world of impossibilities gather around -us, like tangible and familiar things. I dreamed of a -life of love and joy with fairy Charlotte. I would win -her, and bear her like a rich trophy to my transatlantic -home. Oh! we would be so happy. How would -her buoyancy of spirit enhance all my joys; and her -ready sympathy, how it would soothe my sorrows; -and then what a nurse she would be, whenever I was -ill. She liked me, that was certain; of course I could -win her love, and then my happiness was secure. And -I indulged in all the passionate vagaries of love dreaming, -until I felt that unconnected with Charlotte there -was for me no futurity. Thus passed one week more, -and then I was permitted to occupy the cushioned -chair, and sit by the open window. It was singular -that I had felt so little curiosity respecting my host, -and the singularity of surrounding objects, but my -love fancies had fully occupied my mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, as I sat at the casement, which extended from -floor to ceiling, and had no other protection for the -crystal crown-glass than the clinging vines without, -and the embroidered tapestries within, and looked out -upon the wild scenery, apparently uninvaded by the -hand of cultivation, which substitutes the useful for -the beautiful, the production of Art for the sublimity of -Nature, I felt the awakening of a thousand wonders, -as to where I was, and with whom, and how the -wealth of that chamber found its way to that singularly -hidden spot; and who was the stately lady who -occasionally came to my bedside; and how such a -man as Malcomb Douglas came to be an inhabitant of -those mountain wilds? I had seen him but seldom, -since I regained my consciousness, but his manners -were perfect, and his conversation displayed unconsciously -the treasures of a rare and richly cultivated -intellect. He seemed a being altogether above the -level of mankind. It would have seemed absurd to -fancy him talking nonsense, discussing fashions, or inquiring -what he would get for dinner. Yet he was -not ignorant or unmindful of the courtesies, and little -conventionalities of life—but he seemed to hold them -of no moment, and give no thought to such trifles—which -came to him intuitively, and as belonging to -daily intercourse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As I thus mused, gazing down upon the lake, and -away to the opposite hills, I observed, shooting out -from behind an abrupt headland, a beautiful little sail-boat, -in which stood Malcomb Douglas, and which, -coming round the point, ran into a white pebbled bay, -just in front of and beneath my window; and then -from a clump of <a id='haz'></a>hazels emerged my idol, Charlotte, -supported by no other than Harry Heath, who, it then -occurred to me, had mentioned in the morning that he -should take my gentle nurse out for a little exercise, as -she was suffering from her close attendance upon me. -She was beautiful in the distance, but as she clung to -Harry’s arm, and looked up familiarly into his face, I -felt a pang of jealousy, the first that had ever wrung -my bosom. They stepped into the boat, and sat down -together, and the little craft, as if proud of her freight, -put off gallantly along the shining water. And Charlotte -would be by Harry’s side—how long?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I fear you are in great pain,” came in anxious, inquiring -tone upon my ear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I started—my jealous feelings were living on my -face. “Just a little twinge,” I said, “occasioned by -shifting my position indiscreetly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You should be very careful,” returned the good -man who had been my surgeon and doctor from the -first, and who now advanced, examined the position -of my fractured limb, and took a seat beside me at -the window. “How gallantly yon little boat holds -<span class='pageno' title='181' id='Page_181'></span> -her way, with her living freight of beauty, love and -happiness,” he murmured, as if communing with himself; -“and yet a single blast of the mountain storm -may whelm her, with all her warm young hopeful -heart, deep down in the cold weltering waves.” He -finished with a deep sigh, and a cold shudder ran -through my frame, in response to his fearful words. -“Do not let me make you melancholy,” he said, after -a pause; “but I am an old man, and have endured -many sorrows, and have grown distrustful of the promises -of happiness. Reverses come so unexpectedly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think,” said I, timidly, “that the owners of this -mansion must have known some strange reverse of -fortune. It seems so singular to find the manners of a -court, and the luxury of a palace, in a rough stone -mountain dwelling.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old gentleman looked earnestly in my face a -moment. “I have never spoken of these things to any -one,” he said, “but if you feel interested, I will tell -you a tale, to beguile the time until the return of your -companions. Fifty years ago—for I am now seventy-eight—the -lady whom you have seen in this chamber -was the loveliest creature that ever existed out of -heaven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fifty years!” I exclaimed, “why she is not more -than fifty years old.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So any stranger would suppose,” was the quiet -reply; “but she is near seventy. But fifty years ago -she was young, and lovely, and joyous; more, she was -the only and idolized daughter of a princess of the -realm, whose foreign lord fell in battle, having never -seen his infant child. The widowed princess lived in -seclusion, though in the neighborhood of a court; and -though her daughter, the Lady Anna, received every -advantage in the way of education, she was never presented -at court, or allowed to mingle with courtly -society. And, indeed, she seemed to feel no desire for -ostentatious display or admiration, but rather delighted -in the quiet of domestic life, and the unceremonious -intercourse of confiding friendship. I will not tell you -whose son I am, but I was not deemed an unsuitable -companion for the royally-descended Lady Anna. -My sister was the friend and confident of the princess, -and I was a privileged visiter at her palace-home, and -much in the society of her daughter from her childhood. -I am an old man now, but then I was a boy, -and had a young, ardent heart. I cannot tell when I -first loved the Lady Anna. It seems that I loved her -from eternity. She was always perfect in my estimation. -Her actions were precisely what I would -have dictated, and her words, the expression of my -heartfelt sentiments. And then she was so beautiful—so -truly beautiful. Not pretty; any young girl may be -so dressed and ornamented as to appear pretty—and -we frequently hear of styles of beauty; but true beauty -is independent of dress or adornment; you adore it, not -because it is tastefully arrayed, but because it is of -itself adorable. I have seen ladies receiving homage -as belles and beauties, who, in homely attire, and -engaged in household toils, would have been really repulsive; -but Lady Anna would have been entrancingly -beautiful in any dress, or at any occupation; and notwithstanding -her royal descent and superior attainment, -she was gentle, unassuming, and of a loving and -confiding nature. To me she was always frank and -like a loving sister; and, oh, I was happy, perfectly -happy in the possession of her pure regards. I had -not thought of a change in our relations, of an interruption -of our intercourse, of a separation—<span class='it'>never</span>! I -felt as if we should live on, for and with each other -forever. Every place where she had been was hallowed; -every thing that she had touched, sacred in my -estimation; and whatsoever she had looked upon was -dear to my eye, and I felt that the light of her glance -rested upon it. All my thoughts, and words, and deeds, -had reference to her, and her approval was the whole -aim of my life; and yet the selfish thought of appropriating -her to myself, of making her <span class='it'>mine</span>, was no -part of my soul’s worship. To be near her, to see her, -and to hear her voice, was enough for my young -heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She was fifteen, and I three-and-twenty, when my -guardians resolved to send me as confidential secretary -to the minister to Sweden. I ought to have felt myself -honored by this appointment, but I felt only an -agony of grief. To go away from Lady Anna, and all -the places where we had been together, was a trial -which almost made me frantic. But I could not decline -the appointment—I must depart. The affair was -so sudden, and I had so little time for preparation, that -I found no opportunity for a private interview with -Lady Anna. She expressed deep regret at our approaching -separation, but I felt, and keenly, that her -sorrow was not like mine, not the desolation of soul -that made the day dark and the night sleepless to me. -Then I longed to tell her all my love—then I felt that -I would have her all my own; and then I doubted for -the first time the existence in her bosom of a love answering -to my own. And in this state of mind the day -of departure found me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘You will write by every opportunity,’ she said, -as I held her hand in my tremulous grasp. Her voice -was low and sad, and as she looked into my face, -tears gushed over her long eyelashes and fell large and -bright upon her bosom. My soul was a whirlwind. -I prest her hand to my lips, and hastened with unsteady -steps from her presence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Three years—only three years—and yet they -seemed three ages, was I a wanderer in stranger lands. -I did write whenever I found opportunity—but opportunities -were not so frequent fifty years ago as they -are at present. So my missives were few, and only -twice in those three years was my heart delighted by -the receipt of a letter from Lady Anna.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sweet and gentle were her words, like those of a -loving sister, and yet they did not satisfy my spirit. I -longed for one passionate regret, one ardent expression -of hope for our reunion, one sentence that evidently -gushed involuntarily from a devoted heart. These -were not in her letters.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When it was announced to me that we were -speedily to turn us homeward, my heart leaped up -with a great bound, and then seemed to sink, pulseless, -in my bosom. It was an agony like death; and from -that hour until we landed on our native shore, my mind -was a perfect chaos, or rather a tumult of opposite and -<span class='pageno' title='182' id='Page_182'></span> -contending emotions. Joy was fettered by apprehension; -hope was throttled by deadly fear, and doubt, -like a strong giant armed, beat back every ray of -gladness, every beam of joyous anticipation, every -spirit that dared to whisper of happiness to come. I -thought of every event that might have occurred -during the three years of my absence—of death—change—misfortune—and -I almost wished for death, -rather than the knowledge that awaited me; and yet -I knew not what was in store.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I arrived. The white cliffs—the silver beach—the -green shore of my native land, were all unchanged. -The majestic Thames was all the same as when last -I passed adown its tide; the mighty city, with its -towers and palaces, gleamed in the sunlight, as it had -done since my boyhood. <span class='it'>There was no change.</span> My -soul became calm, and as I traced the old familiar -streets, and looked up to the well known buildings and -paused in the shadow of the well-remembered trees, -my heart became joyous, and I sped on to the abode of -my dear and only sister. I should hear of Lady Anna -there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did hear. The princess had fallen into a decline. -A sojourn in Italy had been named as her only chance -of recovery, and to Italy she had gone, accompanied, -certainly, by her only child, the Lady Anna. They -had been gone nearly a year, and I need not tell you, -that as soon as I could make arrangements, I followed -them to that far-famed lovely land.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They were at Pisa. I found them there. Our -meeting was full of gladness—but <span class='it'>they were changed</span>. -The princess was wholly subdued by pain and weakness. -She was attenuated in person, and the lofty -expression of her face was softened by a look of meek -endurance. Her voice was low, and her smile—it -came seldom—was sad, exceedingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Lady Anna, anxiety and watching had taken -away the buoyancy of her person, and the sunlight of -her spirit. She received me joyfully; but ere the first -interview was over, I detected a restlessness, a sort of -watching and insecurity in her eye and manner which -had no reference to me, and for which I accounted by -referring to the precarious state of her only parent’s -health. Several times that day I observed her eyes -fixed on her mother’s face, and dimmed with gathering -tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I discovered that here, as at home, she lived in -seclusion, never mingling with the gay world, and I -sought to draw her into society, with a view to divert -her mind from its sadness. ‘I cannot join the dance, -or listen to sweet music,’ she replied, ‘while my -dear mother is suffering at home.’ I however persuaded -her to go with me to some of the public exhibitions -of the beautiful in art. We had visited several -galleries, cabinets and churches; we had stood side by -side, wrapt in awe or admiration; we had walked together -amongst the sweet breathed flowers, and beneath -the shadowy trees; we had stood upon the sea-coast, -when the stars looked down upon their trembling -images in the deep mirroring waters; we had -looked together on many entrancing beauties of Nature -as well as of Art; and I had felt my soul struggling -to pour out before her the treasures of the inner -temple of its love, but a something in her manner restrained me—I -could not tell her of a passionate love. -Now she was unto me as a loving sister—a declaration -would change the relation between us, I knew not -if for joy or sorrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A mournful day arrived. The princess, who was -forgotten by her country, fell unexpectedly asleep to -awaken no more till the heavens pass away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lady Anna arose from the heavy blow, and assumed -a calm melancholy of demeanor. Yet, to my -surprise, she spoke not of returning home. Months -passed, and we were still at Pisa. Lady Anna suffering -from an uneasiness which she could not conceal, -and which at times broke forth in fits of passionate -weeping, and again showed itself in almost sullen -silence, or something akin to peevishness. The balance -of her fine mind was evidently disturbed. She had a -sorrow which she had not confided to my love.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We were walking pensively along one of those glorious -avenues, shadowed by tall, dark leaved trees, one -fine June morning, when we saw a gay party, in open -carriages, advancing from the country. Lady Anna, -as usual, drew her veil over her lovely face, and walked -on without evincing any curiosity, but I recognised -some of the party, whom I had seen abroad, and directing -her attention to a particular vehicle, the most -magnificent in the <a id='cort'></a><span class='it'>cortège</span>, I whispered, ‘there is a -lady whom I have heard you wish to see—the Princess -L——. Is she not lovely? And her husband is a -noble looking man. Did you ever see his equal?’ I -turned to Lady Anna, expecting her reply. She stood -still, and as I touched her hand I started—it was cold -and rigid as the hand of a corpse. I lifted her veil, -and my heart grew cold with fear and wonder. Her -face was white as death, and the features were fixed -in an expression of the most intense agony. The carriages -had all passed by, and there she stood, apparently -changed to marble. I spoke to her, I entreated -her to speak or move, and at length the tension of her -nerves gave way, and she sunk powerless in my -arms. A vehicle chanced that way, and I lifted her -in, and bore her to her hotel. Sixteen hours she lay -with no sign of life, except an almost imperceptible -breathing, and then she rallied, lifted her head from -the pillow, and looked wildly round the room, then -clenching her hands together, she burst into a passion -of lamentation and bitter weeping. I never witnessed -distress equal to hers. She cried aloud, and her tears -came not in drops, but flowed in continuous streams, -and every sob seemed as if it had torn her heart -asunder. I dreaded that she would suffocate in that -tempest of agony. But she turned from my attempts -to soothe, and wept on until her strength was utterly -exhausted. She did not rise from her bed until several -weeks were past, and then she was more like a corpse -than a living woman. The bloom never came back to -her cheek, the smile to her lip, or the lustre to her eye. -She spoke not of the day, or the cause to the commencement -of her illness—and I did not presume to -ask any explanation. On the commencement of her -illness I had taken rooms adjoining hers, and now I -frequently heard her walking to and fro in her chamber -a great portion of the night. It was a clear, starry -<span class='pageno' title='183' id='Page_183'></span> -midnight, one of those holy seasons when the earth is -dark, and the atmosphere too transparent to be luminous, -when we look away into the clear ether, and -almost comprehend the immense distances to the bright -distant disc of the innumerable stars. I was sleepless, -and stood at my casement looking out upon earth and -heaven. There was a knock at my door. I turned -and admitted the Lady Anna. Pale she was, as usual, -but she seemed unusually agitated. I besought her to -be seated, and to honor me with her commands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Godolphin,’ she said, solemnly, ‘tell me the name -and title of the man whom we saw seated beside the -Princess L——?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Surely his name is no secret,’ I said; ‘all Europe -knows him—he is king of ——.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Swear this to me,’ she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Poor lady,’ I ejaculated mentally, ‘she is deranged’—but -I swore the oath prescribed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Now listen,’ she continued; ‘this king, under an -assumed name, sought me in my seclusion, won my -love—my <span class='it'>love</span>, I say,—and we were privately married, -more than two years ago. I need not repeat the -sophistries by which he persuaded me that he had imperious -reasons for a temporary concealment, reasons -which I should one day know, and which I must approve. -My mother’s illness rendered it easy to elude -her suspicion, and when you came, we still kept our -secret. He was generally absent from Pisa, on pretence -of business—but I saw him frequently. I was -expecting a visit from him daily when we met him on -that fatal walk. I have not seen him since, though he -has implored an interview, if but for five minutes. I -will never see him more.’ And a wail of anguish, -which no words could utter, struggled up from her -broken heart. I essayed to speak. ‘No, no,’ she said, -‘I have not finished. I am dead to the world. Let it -be understood that I lie with my mother. Would to -God it were so, indeed. You will serve me. I know -you will. Provide for me, then, a retreat, where -none who ever knew me may hear of me again. I -have contemplated death—suicide; but I will live to -weep, and pray, and suffer.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, what words for my ear were these. I felt to -thank heaven that the darkness enabled me to hide -my emotions from her, for my suffering was terrible. -I felt light and hope, earth and heaven, at once annihilated. -When she declared that she had loved another, -my heart died within my bosom. It has never since -throbbed as it was wont to throb at every thought of -her. I no longer loved, but existence had become a -void. The fair temple of my youth, with its idol, and -all its beautiful treasures, was at once swept away, and -the dark flood rolled sluggishly where my joys had -been. I felt, not agony, but desolation; not regret, but -cold despair. But I would live for her sake—she was -miserable, and I could assist her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I bethought me of this ancient castle, which -had been a stronghold of my ancestors, and had fallen -greatly to decay. I offered to repair it, and bring her -hither. She thanked me warmly, and I came and -commenced my repairs. I had always loved this -glorious Highland scenery, where the mountains lie -forever watching the reflection of their magnificent -features in the mirroring lake below, as if watching -the lights and shadows on their rugged brows, and -the graceful floating of the tresses of yellow broom, -bound and crowned with the dark wreathing heather, -shining with sunlight, or gemmed with drops of dew, -or the diamonds of the summer shower. And when -the summer is old, and like a forsaken woman, casts -her ornaments from her with showers of tears and -heavy sighing; the mountains seem to watch the fall -of the verdure on the bosom of the waters, until they -see the splendor of the wintry stars forming a diadem -around their snow-crested heads. These scenes of -sublime beauty, I judged, were well calculated to -soothe the tumult in both our spirits; and here, where -the breezes whisper to each other across the deep, -narrow dell, I formed a little paradise of fruit trees and -glowing shrubs, and furnished these rough halls with -the sumptuousness of a palace; and then I brought -Lady Anna and her infant daughter home. To my -household I presented her as my sister, and a widow; -and their Scottish hearts received her with a ready -sympathy, and respected a sorrow which seemed to -them so natural and commendable. To those who -had known her, I said the Lady Anna is no more. -The loss of her mother broke her gentle heart. My -heart was dead, yet I regarded her as a dear sister; -and to this day she knows not that I ever felt more -for her than a brother’s love. And now that we were -all the world to each other, I enjoyed a calm that -seemed very like happiness. Her child, the little Lady -Adela, soon engrossed our warmest affections; she -was a sweet and lovely child, but no way like her -mother. She had clear blue eyes, fair curling hair in -rich abundance, a complexion of transparent pink and -white, and though delicately formed, she was plump -and exquisitely moulded. Her intellect was wonderful, -yet she was a simple-minded, loving and confiding -child. She grew to be a part of my being. Her -mother hardly loved her more than I. Her education -was our delight—she was so docile, so quick to receive -instruction. Earth hath been graced with very few -like her. The beautiful bud became a flower, yet she -seemed more pure and spiritual than in her childhood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘If I might ask one boon for my child,’ said Lady -Anna, one evening, as we were speaking of Lady -Adela’s future prospects. ‘If I might obtain one boon -for her, I would pray that she might never feel the -pulse of human love.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor Lady Anna, her experience had been bitter—and -mine, I could have answered, Amen, to her prayer. -But a lone traveler craved hospitality at our postern. -He was handsome, noble, and virtuous. Adela learned -to reply to the love which grew up in his heart for her. -It was a dreadful trial to our doating hearts, but we -gave her, with our blessing, to her beloved, and put -bonds upon our feelings, when she bade a sobbing -farewell, and left her own dear home for a splendid -station in the queenly city of Edinburgh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The knowledge that she was happy in her new -home, was a sweet solace to our <a id='lone'></a>loneliness; and when, -in less than two years, she came with her fine young -boy to spend the time of the summer heat with us, we -were supremely happy. Womanhood had not dimmed -<span class='pageno' title='184' id='Page_184'></span> -the gladness of her heart, or withered the flowers of -her childish glee and affection. Wisdom had come to -her, unaccompanied by sadness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Toward autumn her young husband arrived, to -spend a few days and take her with him home. There -was a gay party assembled in these old halls, and -for days there was feasting, and mirth, and music, excursions -on the hills, and parties on the water. It was -a lovely afternoon in the fitful September. The two -boats were manned, and the barge provided with implements -and tackle for fishing, took the gentlemen on -board, while the ladies accompanied them in the lighter -and more elegant sail-boat. They shoved out from the -shore, with music and shouts and laughter. We wished -them a joyful sail, and turned to our avocations of preparation -for the evening meal and entertainment of the -party. We sighed as we thought how soon we should -be left to the old silence and loneliness. Our preparations -were completed—the day was drawing to a close. -I found Lady Anna at this very casement, looking out -upon the lake, watching for the return of our beloved. -I took the station I now occupy, but my eyes rested on -my silent companion’s face. She did not look at me, -and I gazed unchecked until the past, with all its -shadows rose up around me. I trembled in every -nerve, and felt the waters of the <a id='swol'></a>swollen heart rise -tingling to my eye-lids. I knew not what possessed -me, but I felt as if I must kneel before her, and confess -all the passion, the presumption of my youth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Look! look!’ she cried, ‘they come!’ and far up at -the point of yonder noble bluff, I beheld the boats heading -toward home. Just at that moment came a low growl -upon a fitful gust, and instinctively we turned our eyes -toward the west. Black, billowy clouds were surging -and heaving above the mountain crest like a stormy -ocean, and down that rugged gorge the dusky masses -of mist came turmoiling like giants wrestling in the -death-struggle, and the winds groaned and shrieked -adown the defile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lady Anna grew white—I had seen her so once -before; my own heart grew heavy with a pain like -death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Oh, God! Oh, merciful God!’ came from Lady -Anna’s still lips, in accents of heart-piercing agony. -If they could but outstrip the storm; if they could but -near the coast before it leapt upon the lake. It was -evident that they knew the danger, and exerted all -their powers; the boats glided swiftly over the smooth, -black surface of the water, which lay as if concentrating -itself to meet the onset of the aerial force. Our -eyes turned from the boats to the upheaving storm; -our souls were aghast in the horrible suspense—fear—dread—extreme -terror—held hope in a throttling grasp; -more than our lives were at stake, and we were -powerless—utterly powerless to retard the danger or -aid the souls in peril. We could only stand here, and -gaze with wide-open, glazed eyes upon the scene. Oh, -I think I see it now re-enacting before me. The light -sail-boat led in the race, and with our telescope we -could distinguish our child standing upright in the bow, -her face raised, as if watching the portentous clouds, -and her white hands clasped over the black mantle that -covered her bosom. At the tiller of the barge stood -her husband, while the sturdy rowers strove to keep -pace with the flight of the sail-boat; and so they sped -on to escape, if possible, the tornado which lay growling -like a couchant lion, ready to leap in its irresistible -fury upon them. The dark billows of the cloud lay -high above yon mountain wall, but for a time they -seemed to make no progress, or rather to sink back -upon themselves. How our hearts panted and stretched -toward our treasures, as if we would draw them from -the peril. As they were coming from that point, and -the storm rising over that eminence, you will perceive -that the wind would take them broadside, and -thus greatly increase their danger. You see that all -along the opposite shore there is no safe landing place, -and they were far out on the lake when they first perceived -the clouds rising above the heights. Then -there was no time for thought or reflection, and they -seemed to imagine that their only chance was to reach -the shelter of these heights before the wind should intercept -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“During the temporary lull of the storm, a trembling -angel, almost hope, hovered over us. Our souls went -out toward the mariners, every dip of their oars fell -upon our distended hearts, striking thence a quick gasp, -and a pulse of pain—and thus we stood, the gathering -darkness falling like a mountain veil between us and -the objects of our anguished solicitude.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, God! what a blaze of lightning rent the gloom, -and pierced, like a shower of flashing poniards, soul -and sense; while a clang, as of the rending to atoms -of an iron mountain, stunned our ears. Then the -storm spread its black wings, and sprang like a fierce -vulture from the heights, leaving a line of lurid red between -it and the horizon. The crisis was at hand. -Were the boats within the shelter of the land? They -were nearing our side of the lake rapidly. We could -not breathe. At that moment our Adela, who had not -moved since we first descried her, lifted her hands to -heaven with an expression of the most agonized despair—and -now the doom fell. With the rush and roar -of a cataract the wind came down upon the lake. It -met the water <span class='it'>between us and the boats</span>. The spray -went up to heaven. Lady Anna sunk back with a -shuddering groan. The lake was a tumult of warring -elements. Fierce winds, waters, thunder and wrestling -flames contending in a horrid turmoil. I turned away -and sunk upon my knees beside the mother, whose -heart felt upon its quivering chords the death-agony of -the dear one who was perishing in the boiling waves. -My soul was benumbed with horror; I had no word -of hope for her, and there was no consolation. I lifted -her form and held her to my heart, with only one -wish, that then and there we might die together.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The tremulous voice of the old man ceased, and for -a while he wept like a stricken woman. At length -he resumed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They were lost—all lost. A few fragments of the -boats was all we ever found. That storm made -many mourners beside ourselves. Widows and orphans, -young girls and aged parents, wept the buried -in the water. We all sought to sustain each other; -and Lady Anna and myself were sustained not merely -by a submissive dependence upon Jehovah, but by the -<span class='pageno' title='185' id='Page_185'></span> -sense of a responsibility toward our lost Adela’s infant -son. He has been our care, our hope, our pride. You -can testify that there are few equals for Malcomb -Douglas—that is his baptismal name. His father’s -name and title may one day be borne by him, and receive -more honor than, noble as they are, they can -confer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know not why I have told you these things, except -it be that our identity may not perish. I will -give you on this card our real names, and, as in the -revolutions of nations, the forgotten are remembered, -and the lost found, you may sometime hear of us -honorably, or read our story on the half fabulous page -of national history. But I thought not of these things. -When I saw the gay young party put off an hour ago, -it brought the past so vividly to my mind, that I felt -constrained to tell you how the pure may be deceived—how -the virtuous may suffer, how the noble may -shrink into obscurity, how the world’s idols may be -forgotten; and, most of all, that nobility, education, -moral greatness and purity, with all gentle virtues and -all lofty aspirations, may exist in retirement, unknown -and unregarded by a world that should be proud to -wear them as jewels upon its bosom. But He that -doeth all things well, will reward every man according -to his works. So let it be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I thanked the old gentleman amid the tears that I -could not restrain; and he expressed his gratitude for -my sympathy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I knew not what effect his story wrought upon me, -but I forgot both my love and my jealously; and heard -the announcement of Charlotte M’Lane’s engagement -to Harry Heath with real pleasure. I left the hospitable -mansion of my illustrious host and hostess with -deep regret, impressed with the dignity of virtue, and -the importance of a firm trust in the goodness and wisdom -of the Ruler of the Universe. I have since heard -the name of young Malcomb heralded by the voice of -fame, and trust that his career will be one of <a id='para'></a>unparalleled -usefulness and splendor.</p> - -<hr class='tbk124'/> - -<div><h1><a id='path'></a>THE TWO PATHS.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. MARY B. HORTON.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Lord of all things planted a garden at the foot -of the hill of life. It was like a flowered plain. The -heavens wore a gentle smile, and the earth was fresh -and green, with no deadness of stalk or stem upon -flowers or trees. The shout of glad, young voices -made its music as birds made the music of the air, and -merry troops danced with a lightness peculiar to that -garden of joy, over the soft yielding turf from which -no serpent’s sting ever came forth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sweet fountains gushed up in shady places, where -the happy ones rested from their play, and beautiful -vistas opened on every side, formed of bright garlands, -which fell on the brows of the childish throng like -crowns. Through the clustering branches of ever-budding -trees the bright light glanced, excepting when -a transient cloud passed over, leaving dew-jewels -sparkling in the sun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was the garden of infancy—those clouds the -fleeting sorrows of childish hearts which leaves the -tear upon the smiling cheek. The fountains in the -shady places were those of sinless memory—the vistas -were Hope’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Angels on busy wings swept over the beautiful -place, watching, as messengers of the Great Throne, -the doings of these young creatures, who in the garden -of love and peace knew not the roughness of the road -which lay beyond its mossy boundaries. From time -to time these angels caught a sweet one from the -dancing crowd, and bore it tenderly to the bosom of -the “Well Beloved.” And such were blessed; for -they had only known the joy of their garden home—their -feet had never toiled through the dust of that -hilly way rising beyond the plain. A line of glistening -wings was thus kept up between the garden and the -Throne, by the passing up of angels with their beautiful -gifts; and the groups thus broken in upon were -taught to grieve not for sweet companions so well beloved -of Heaven, so that their sunny sports went on -with but a momentary shadow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gentle lamb and heavenly dove nestled against -the breast of fondling little ones, or answered to their -call as if their mate’s. With Hope’s garlands on their -brows, and their feet sandaled with flowers, the dancers -counted not time, as those on the outer hill counted it, -by hours, but let it make its annual rounds unnoticed, -until the period arrived for them to leave the pure retreat. -Time was to them no gray-haired tyrant with -a warning hour-glass, but a kind friend laden ever -with roses and smiles. It beckoned them to play, it -beckoned them to rest, and they saw not the different -face and burden it sometimes bore until they had gone -out beyond the gates.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Upon a mossy bank in this garden of infancy lay an -infant boy. Its chubby, dimpled hands played with the -flowers of innocence and joy that grew luxuriantly in -that pure atmosphere. The light of that blessed place -danced in his eyes, and its sweet music was succeeded -by his tiny shout. While he thus lay, a little girl stole -out from a playful group, and gliding to his side threw -her fond arms around him and kissed his beaming face -with the quick love of a warm heart. The baby -pressed his face against his sister’s with an answering -lovingness, and passed his fingers through her curling -hair with a low laugh of happiness, echoed with the -maturity of two summer’s longer life, by the little one -bending over him. How holy a thing was the love -they bore each other, and how stainless were their -souls as each answered to the other in purity and joy. -<span class='pageno' title='186' id='Page_186'></span> -The angels rested on their clear wings to write upon -their foreheads “of such is the kingdom of heaven,” -and rejoiced that they were appointed guardians over -them, to whisper good when evil tempted them upon -the outer hill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some of the older ones even in that peaceful place -looked out upon the hill with longing for the journey. -They saw the continuous band of youths and maidens -going out from the garden gates, and longed to reach -the age which was to free them from the gentle laws -of their garden nursery. Oh, how sad was the reasoning -which had led to this desire—how sure the pleasures -of that sweet place they dwelt in—how bitter -might be the anticipated delights of the Hill of Life. -The gay crowds hurrying up the hilly way seemed in -the distance like a merry company with no care or -pain. Their shouts and songs came on the breeze like -the gushings of sunny hearts knowing no cloud. The -listening ears of the waiting ones inside the gates -heard not the sighs which broke from gifted spirits, -they caught not the silent prayer of the weary and -broken-hearted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The baby boy had grown to take his place in the -line of youths who were to leave forever the home of -childhood and its innocent delights. His sister was -by his side, and on their dear young heads an invisible -hand was laid blessingly, as they stepped out upon the -dusty way. They had left their home of joy, they -were to walk evermore upward, upward, through -unknown snares and by the borders of dreadful depths. -Yet their hearts beat hopefully and strong, and the first -day’s travel was so easy and so new, that they mourned -not for the childish sports of the garden left behind, -and gayly looked forward to their life-long pilgrimage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Flowers they found in their way somewhat resembling -those their infant hands had plucked, and sweet -voices fell upon their ears which sounded quite as holy -as those in their first home. They talked together of -the teachings they had so often listened to, of the -warnings they had been impressed with, as the time -drew near for them to leave the garden gates. In -their young wisdom they believed their guardian -teachers had looked with perverted eyes upon the -travelers of the hill, and with over earnest zeal had -given them too dark a character. They had spoken -of serpents hidden beneath the grass—of snares like a -mine laid out under flowery beds. They had painted -false smiles, and spoken of honeyed words spoken -to deceive. They had prayed that the guileless -travelers would allow themselves no chain which -might seem to be of flowers, but would prove to be -of iron, eating deep wounds into the soul. What -could they have meant by all these pictures and all -these prayers? The way had been as yet but short, -yet surely as they looked up, the same appearance of -ease and joy broke on them. They still walked hand -in hand, still loved such flowers as they loved in the -plain beneath, still looked toward the Throne at morning -and at night as their eyes had ever been led to do. -Their ministering angels still followed them on wings -of joy, because they walked so pure and lovingly, and -would have spread their brightness round them to -have kept off evil forever, if their Lord had not given -to these travelers of the hill a work for their own -hearts, which, if “well done,” would meet with a most -bountiful reward. Prayer, in time of danger from a -false step or slippery way, would bring their willing -aid, but prayer must first be warmly breathed to show -a holy faith.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On, on they went, guarding their days by morning -adoration, and bringing by their evening supplication -sweet rest to their feet and beautiful visions to their -hearts. They had been told that at a certain point -two ways met, of which they must choose the right or -left. And soon they found themselves surrounded by -a hesitating crowd at the entrance of the paths. The -narrow one had for its guide-post the holy book of -their Lord, with opened page, from which, in golden -characters, spoke forth—“The way to Heaven.” At -the entrance of the other was a figure, the body concealed -with flowers, but the face exposed. The eyes -were of ravishing delight, and the mouth dropped -musical and melting tones, which to that company of -inexperienced youth seemed like the sweet promises -of heavenly joy. She told of beautiful and social -scenes, prepared in lovely places all along the roomy -and cheerful way she would lead them through. She -spoke with smiling lightness of the dull routine of -duties and unexciting pleasures of the path which so -few choose, and pointed gayly with tempting finger to -the laughing crowds treading the broad way of which -she was the queen—and what a queen! So fair of face, -so full of joyousness, so innocent of speech. She spoke -of the Great Father who was the lord of all upon that -hill, and with delicious earnestness pleaded for the hearts -of that young company, because their lord would not -condemn their feet for dancing on the flowers she would -strew along their path. He would not be so cruel-hearted -as to frown upon His children’s joy. Oh! how -the company of angels, who hovered round, watched -for the decisive step of the young creatures they had -followed from the garden walls. Some had hid their -faces in their bright wings for grief, when they had -seen the cherished beings of the innocent home choose -the left hand path which their heavenly natures knew -would lead to Death. Yet, with faces veiled, they followed -the deluded ones, in hopes to win them back -before they strayed too far.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And what was our brother’s and sister’s choice? -The boy looked wistfully toward the glittering throng, -which danced and laughed amid the wreaths and -brilliant artificial light of the broad way, but followed -his sister’s guidance toward the path whose light was -from the Throne. The angels, whose care they were, -rejoiced, and followed with a low song of triumph the -holy travelers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The boy, through love for his dear friend, murmured -not for a time at the calm and peaceful way they trod. -But his imagination, naturally so vivid and bright, had -nothing to revel in as they walked upward side by side -with holy men and pure, who sung the praises of the -Good King as they rose toward the crown. This -crown glittered upon the summit of the hill as a promise -of eternal rest and joy for the unmurmuring and -patient traveler.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the heart of the young man became listless; and -<span class='pageno' title='187' id='Page_187'></span> -his eyes became dull to see the lustre of the crown as -it shone fast by the Lord’s high throne. From discontent -he went to murmuring. His sister and his -angel whispered loving words to the clouded heart, and -sought earnestly to win it back to feel the beauty of -the journey they had commenced so joyfully. But no! -the distant sound of mirth, the distant glitter of fine -sights, and spectacles appearing so ingenious and rare, -caught his wandering senses at every turn. His quiet -journey became a burden to him. His sister’s face -became a sad reproach. The crown looked dim upon -the summit. To his changed eye the holy men and -women walked like monks and nuns in solemn company. -His excited fancy would make it seem injustice -that the Lord who made the way, should have had its -pavement so hard and rough, when the broader path -was carpeted with flowers, which could yield to the -bounding foot so gently, and ever be so fresh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>More and more the prospect changed to his changed -eyes. The ascent now was steep and wearisome, and -oh! how the sad, sweet face of his garden friend, the -sister of his childhood passed on the mossy banks, how -it looked upon him longingly, as if the pilgrimage even -in the narrow way would be half sorrowful if he went -not up with her to the end. His angel shone from her -eyes its look of pleading, but all were lost upon the -evil-awakened youth, who saw no stars in that pure -heaven, no guide in that pleasant way worth following. -More and more as his heart gave up the treasures of -its infancy, the revel of the other path broke on his -ear. His eyes gazed oftener on the distant groups -than on his sister’s face, or the high crown. That -sister prayed, besought with tears that he would let -his guardian spirit guide him, that he would call upon -the messengers of the Throne to disarm the tempters -who were changing his heart. And yet he, the object -of that fond one’s watching thus far upon the road, he -who in sweet babyhood had been her pride and hope -even in her own young years, he turned and left her! -Turned and fled, not daring to look back and catch another -glimpse of her pale face! he fled, and how short -was now the way to Pleasure’s arms; the gain of long -year’s travels how quickly lost. He stood once more -where the two paths met, and looked a moment on the -plain below, where yet was green the home of his childhood’s -innocence. For a moment came the memory of -the spirits he had carried from it as inmates of his soul. -He gazed upon its quiet loveliness, and sighed in his -bewilderment and guilt, for the season of his infancy, -that he might be again a child and play amongst those -garden flowers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It could not be! And sealing his brow with the -stamp of determined hardihood, he turned from the -retrospect of his boyhood’s purity, and gave his hand -to the fair-faced queen, who welcomed him more -gladly that he came from the rival path.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How wildly did he enter now into all the scenes of -that gay place! He sought to drown his angel’s whisperings -in revels, and at first he succeeded well, -for the parties he joined were of those, who, like himself, -were neophytes to the reigning queen, and were -not yet quite slaves to the hideous form so shrouded in -flowers. But the innocent joyfulness grew more evil -at every step, for in this gay kingdom there was no -restraining power, and the poor misguided youth who -had left the quiet walk where every onward step induced -to purity, now saw the ruin which came by unsuspected -agencies upon the hearts and forms of these -thoughtless travelers. Guilt grew more familiar at -every turn. He could see that his companions grew -old before their time, and almost imperceptibly changed -their careless mirth and slight indulgences to wicked -merriment and love for evil practices, which they -would have once despised.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Palaces rose up on every side, filled with sparkling -drinks, which drowned the voices of grieved angels, -and gave exulting life to the dread demon of Human -Will. The laughter which had come faintly to his ears -when he was by his lost sister’s side, like the sound -of a joyful stream, now was like a raging river, wild -and ruinous. Gay women fluttered on with “Vanity” -written in jewels upon their foreheads, and the beauty -of their girlhood lost under the weight of fashion’s -charms. How the heart of that lost wanderer turned -to his sister’s memory, and read there how chaste, -how simple, how lovely she walked, unmindful of the -garments her body wore if her spirit shone in the -garb of holiness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked toward the path she was now treading -alone, and could tell her untiring step, and see the light -of her high brow as it was at times uplifted to the -throne—praying for him! Those gay women looked -like painted sepulchres as he turned back; and though -they shook their jeweled fingers at him playfully, and -tried to win his admiration by outward charms, his -heart compared them with the gentle presence of his -sister in the heavenly path, and it learned to lothe the -beings whose souls were unadorned and dark. They -had been beautiful, but had lost the roses of their -cheeks, the jewels of their eyes, the sweet sign of -modesty upon their brow, and now owed Art a debt -which grew with every year.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he went on he found corners of the road darkened -by groups of human forms with faces of spirits -from the cave of darkness where the fire burns. They -watched with starting eyes the ivory balls they rolled, -or painted characters they handled, as if they were -the chances of Heaven; and when their gold was lost -would start up furious, and commit some dreadful -deed upon themselves or their companions. Disgusting -pictures of indulgence and debauchery in every -shape, now met the almost frenzied eye of the regretful -wanderer. Carelessly besotted feet trod the uncertain -borders of the frightful precipice, or with uneven -step stalked on toward the gulf of hopelessness. -The light, which had been so dazzling at the commencement -of the way, had been put out, and darkness -would have been over all that crowd, if the -mercy of the Throne had not let its light fall upon the -guilty ones, that, if they would, they might see their -passage back to the holy way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oh! had that wanderer tasted all the joy he fancied -could be drunk of in that broad path? Had the glittering -scenes been real? Had the promises of the -syren been fulfilled? Had his heart been satisfied -with the friendship, his feet with the flowers of that -<span class='pageno' title='188' id='Page_188'></span> -fair-seeming place? Oh, no! His brain was reeling -with the discordant sounds, his senses were confused, -his heart was agonized by the cries of rage, and complaints -breathed bitterly against the Throne. Oh! -could he dare brave the sneers of his companions and -turn back: Could he, distressed and weakened, run -the gauntlet of that deriding crowd! Oh no he had no -courage left for such a trial. He knew the purity of -his brow was gone, the freshness of his heart; and -how, if he ever should escape from that dreadful way, -would his sister’s eye rest on him?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he thought of this, he turned toward the path of -her calm pilgrimage, and saw a greater light as a halo -round her pale brow, and her pleading eye still turned -upward toward the Throne! His angel gently whispered -“fly!” And as he stopped upon his course to -listen, he felt the pressure of the hand which had been -laid upon his head as he went out from the garden-gates, -and his strong heart came back! His feet forgot -their weariness, his eye grew large with hope, his -spirit threw off its cowardice, and with a loud, clear -voice, which his sister caught as a joyful answer to -her prayers, he declared himself a prodigal, and entreated -all that graceless company to follow him to -peace and happiness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oh! how many accents there were in the answering -shouts that filled the echoing way. Despair sent -up its dreadful note—shame and defiance added their -discordant tones. From the deep caves of guilty sorrow -came a wail, and from lone places where the -body diseased with crime lay suffering, a cry arose -which chilled even the polluted blood of those who -wandered in guilt so near.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>None answered the returning one with like repentance, -although from the heavy eyes of some a faint -desire for a moment gleamed, to flee with him from -misery. But the laugh which rung so loud, and with -such a mocking echo of contempt, put out the spark -which might have kindled to such a glorious blaze, -and he turned alone upon his backward way. And -now fingers were pointed at him, laughter followed -him—his garments were laid hold of to arrest his -steps. Many who sighed for his courage, and envied -him the way his face was turned, laid stumbling-blocks -before his feet, to turn them back—to gain a triumph -over him would make their own depravity seem less -dark. But they could not conquer him. His angel -strengthened him, and he kept the name of the Great -Lord upon his lips and in his heart, and so he made -his way free from the striving hands and tempting -wiles of his companions, and joyfully reached once -more the side of his sister in the upward path.</p> - -<hr class='tbk125'/> - -<div><h1><a id='rain'></a>THE RAIN.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY T. A. SWAN.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The birds sing gayly in their bowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And we can gather what they sing;</p> -<p class='line0'>But what, falling ’mong leaves and flowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>  What is the soft rain whispering.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I cannot understand their word—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Some tale those bright drops tell, I know,</p> -<p class='line0'>For the corn leaves move as if they heard,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And barley fields nod to and fro.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The lily turns its chalice up</p> -<p class='line0'>  To catch the legends as they fall,</p> -<p class='line0'>And on the blue-bell’s tiny cup</p> -<p class='line0'>  Rings many a fairy festival.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The brooklet o’er the meadow spreads,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And then, like elves, they dance and sing;</p> -<p class='line0'>And clovers hang their blushing heads,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like little creatures listening.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>It is some good thing they relate;</p> -<p class='line0'>  For when the cloud has passed the sun,</p> -<p class='line0'>The green fields smile with joy elate,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As the world had put new glory on.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And so, to me, they chant a strain</p> -<p class='line0'>  Uncomprehended by the sense,</p> -<p class='line0'>But when they dash the window-pane,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I feel their soothing influence.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>They lead me back to some bright scene,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Some fair spot in the shadowy past,</p> -<p class='line0'>Which glows like the broad moon’s silver sheen</p> -<p class='line0'>  Far off upon the waters cast.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>They ope the pleasant gate of dreams,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And from the phantom-world beyond,</p> -<p class='line0'>How visions bright, in golden streams,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like gift from an enchanter’s wand.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Kind dreams of sweet imagining—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of the maiden fair shall love me well;</p> -<p class='line0'>But mystic are the strains they sing,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Who she may be they will not tell.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And through the Future’s golden aisles,</p> -<p class='line0'>  They bear me up on angel wing;</p> -<p class='line0'>And many a truth I’ve learned the whiles</p> -<p class='line0'>  From the bright rain softly whispering.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk126'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='189' id='Page_189'></span><h1><a id='wild'></a>WILD-BIRDS OF AMERICA.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY PROFESSOR FROST.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i130.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0005' style='width:375px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>THE CAROLINA PARROT.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>This bird is the only species of Parrot found native -in the United States. It not only abounds in the rich -and flowery groves of our Southern States, but is found -in great numbers among the prairies of the West, on -the banks of the Ohio and the Mississippi, and even -along the shores of Lake Michigan. Most Parrots droop -or die in cold weather; but the Carolina Parrots are -frequently seen during a snow-storm, flying about in -flocks, and by their loud cries seeming to enjoy the -consciousness of their own hardiness. But though a -resident in our Western States it is rarely seen east of -the Alleghanies. Its favorite food—the seeds of the -cockle-bur—abounds in the wilds and forests of the -West. Amid the rich alluvial soils, shaded by dense -forests of sycamore and buttonwood, or covered with -impenetrable swamps, the Carolina finds a secure and -delightful retreat. Here also are found the seeds of -the cypress and hackberry, and the beech-nut; while -the soil abounds with those formations known as licks, -the salt of which is much relished by the Parrot. The -Carolina possesses a full share of that love for destructive -mischief which appears indigenous to his genus. -In the natural state it cares little for apples, if other -food be at hand, but it delights to mount an apple-tree, -and twisting the fruit off one by one to strew it over -the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Carolina Parrot is about thirteen inches long, -and twenty-one across the spread wings. The head -is red, the neck a rich yellow; and in other parts of -the body these colors are sprinkled with considerable -profusion. The remaining plumage is mostly a bright -green, changing to yellow, with light blue reflections. -The feet and bill are either a cream or flesh color, and -the claws and shafts of the large feathers black. The -plumage of the female differs very little from that of -the male; but the young birds undergo several changes -of color before assuming the dress of their parents.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In captivity this bird appears to lose little of its -sprightly habits, although it never becomes entirely -reconciled to the cage. Unless closely watched it will -gnaw and break through the wood of its cage, and -twist the wires, for the purpose of escaping. On the -whole, it is a pleasing companion, being in a great -measure destitute of the love for clamorous screaming -which distinguishes most of the other Parrots. Its -usual food in the cage should be corn and <a id='beech'></a>beech-nuts, -but if hungry it will eat apples, various kinds of seeds -and berries.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wilson in his American Ornithology gives the following -interesting account of the Carolina Parrot, as -seen by him in its native haunts in the West:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At Big Bone Lick, thirty miles above the mouth -of Kentucky River, I saw them in great numbers. -They came screaming through the woods in the morning, -about an hour after sunrise, to drink the salt water, -of which they, as well as the pigeons, are remarkably -fond. When they alighted on the ground, it appeared -at a distance as if covered with a carpet of the richest -<span class='pageno' title='190' id='Page_190'></span> -green, orange and yellow; they afterward settled in -one body on a neighboring tree, which stood detached -from any other, covering almost every twig of it, and -the sun shining strongly on their gay and glossy plumage, -produced a very beautiful and splendid appearance. -Here I had an opportunity of observing some -very particular traits of their character: Having shot -down a number, some of which were only wounded, -the whole flock swept repeatedly around their prostrate -companions, and again settled on a low tree -within twenty yards of the spot where I stood. At -each successive discharge, though showers of them -fell, still the affection of the survivors seemed rather -to increase; for, after a few circuits around the place, -they again alighted near me, looking down on their -slaughtered companions with such manifest symptoms -of sympathy and concern, as completely disarmed me. -I could not but take notice of the remarkable contrast -between their elegant manner of flight and their lame -and crawling gait among the branches. They fly very -much like the Wild Pigeon, in close compact bodies, -and with great rapidity, making a loud and outrageous -screaming, not unlike that of the Red-headed Woodpecker. -Their flight is sometimes in a direct line, but -most usually circuitous, making a great variety of elegant -and easy serpentine meanders, as if for pleasure. -They are particularly attached to the large sycamore, -in the hollow of the trunks and branches of which they -generally roost, thirty or forty, or more, entering at -the same hole. Here they cling closely to the sides -of the trees, holding fast by the claws, and also by the -bills. They appear fond of sleep, and often retire to -their holes during the day, probably to take their regular -<span class='it'>siesta</span>. They are extremely sociable, and fond of -each other, often scratching each other’s heads and -necks, and always at night nestling as close as possible -to each other, preferring at that time a perpendicular -position, supported by their bill and claws. In the -fall, when their favorite cockle-burs are ripe, they -swarm along the coast or high ground of the Mississippi, -above New Orleans, for a great extent. At such -times they are killed and eaten by many of the inhabitants; -though, I confess, I think their flesh is very -indifferent. I have several times dined on it from necessity, -in the woods, but found it merely passable, -with all the sauce of a keen appetite to recommend it.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i134.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0006' style='width:350px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>THE WASHINGTON EAGLE. (<span class='it'>Haliætus Washingtonii.</span>)</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>For a long time this bird was almost unknown; and -though specimens of it appear to have been examined -even by scientific men, its identity as a distinct species -remained hidden until the year 1814. In February of -that year Mr. Audubon, while voyaging up the Mississippi, -noticed here and there a solitary bird, soaring -above the rocky cliffs, entirely different, as it appeared -to him, from any species with which he was acquainted. -After much search he discovered an eyry on the -high cliffs of Green River, in Kentucky, and was enabled -<span class='pageno' title='191' id='Page_191'></span> -to make such observations as convinced him that -this was a new, and hitherto unknown, species of -Eagle. From its noble bearing and majestic size, he -named it the Bird of Washington, a title by which it -is now generally recognized. Some, however, confound -it with the White-tailed Eagle, and others affirm -that it is but a full grown Sea Eagle. With better -reason it is supposed to be either identical with the -great European Sea Eagle of Brisson, or but a variety -of that bird. Audubon considers the species as rare. -His principal residence is among the rocky shores of -the Mississippi, the Missouri, and the great northern -lakes—in those gloomy solitudes rarely disturbed by -the step of man. Winter drives it from these favorite -haunts nearer to the abode of civilization; and in a -severe season the Washington Eagle has been seen in -the vicinity of Concord and Boston. His principal -food is fish; but instead of obtaining it in the same -piratical manner as is common with the Bald Eagle, he -descends, like the Osprey, into the same element with -his prey. The circles which he describes in flying -are wider than those of the White-headed Eagle, -and when about to dive for prey, he sweeps downward -in spiral rings, as though endeavoring to prevent -the fish’s escape. When within the distance -of a few yards, he darts forcibly down, and rarely -fails to secure his object. He is also remarkable -for flying near the surface of the water, especially -when retiring with his prize; and when near the -shore he may often be recognized by the same peculiarity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Washington Eagle is capable of being domesticated, -and is then gentle and docile. The quantity of -food necessary to sustain him, either in captivity or -among his native wilds, is very great; and it would -appear that they are capable, more than most birds of -prey, of generating fat. Audubon’s specimen was -three feet six inches in length, and weighed fourteen -and a half pounds. Others have been weighed, much -heavier. It should be mentioned as a curious fact, -that repeated attempts by Dr. Haywood, of Boston, to -poison one of these birds with corrosive sublimate -were entirely unsuccessful, although doses of two -drams were given to it at a time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The general color of the upper part of this bird is -copper-brown, dark and shining. The throat and -breast are a cinnamon color, the wings brown, with -sprinklings of black, and the lesser wing-coverts rusty -iron-gray. This description should, however, be received -with some caution, in consequence of its being -taken from but a few specimens, which varied considerably -among themselves. The head is more convex -than that of the Bald Eagle, the bill more hooked, and -the iris of the eye is hazel, inclining to chestnut. Underneath -the foot is notched like a rasp, to enable the -bird to hold its prey. The majestic appearance of this -Eagle, his great strength and superior size, justly entitle -him to a rank among the noblest birds of our continent.</p> - -<hr class='tbk127'/> - -<div><h1><a id='books'></a>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</h1></div> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The History of the United States of America, from the Discovery -of the Continent to the Organization of the Government -under the Federal Constitution. By Richard Hildreth. -In three volumes. New York: Harper & Brothers, -vol. 1.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The object of Mr. Hildreth’s ambition in this work is to -present an impartial view of the persons and events of -American history in their natural order and relations, and -in his preface he plumes himself on having accomplished -his purpose, at the same time not very modestly indicating -his belief that no other American historian has approached -it. As far as regards his claim to accuracy and impartiality -we doubt not it will be readily admitted, at least in -the sense in which he appears to understand the terms. -The history is a useful compendium of facts undertaken -by a man who does not seem to have sufficient sympathy -with his subject to be capable even of partisanship. Everything -indicates that the work was manufactured in a spirit -of dogged, straight-forward, joyless labor. The author -has in his other productions given evidence of passions -sufficiently quick and hot, and a talent for hating almost -unmatched for brilliancy and intensity, and our surprise -was correspondingly great to find him in the present work -altogether destitute of enthusiasm, and writing sentence -after sentence with no inspiration even from his blood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To those who require in a history nothing but a series -of facts presented in a clear style, without any animation -in the narrative, the work of Mr. Hildreth will be very -acceptable, and we have little doubt that his labors of research -and composition will be rewarded. It seems to us, -however, that there is a great difference between facts as -they are in themselves, and facts as they are treated by -Mr. Hildreth. Whatever view may be taken of our fathers, -there can be no doubt that they were alive, and we have -a right to demand that the narrative of their actions, however -close it may adhere to the literal truth, shall represent -living men and living events. The representation of -a fact, therefore, implies a sympathy with it either personal -or imaginative, and a capacity to convey it to another -mind not only in its form and dimensions, but in its -coloring and spirit. The difficulty with Mr. Hildreth’s -facts consists in their lifelessness. He is “down among the -dead men,” not up and striving with the living, and his style -being deliberately and elaborately destitute of glow and -spirit, rejecting all ornament, and varying not with the -variations of his subject, is as uninteresting as a newspaper -account of a railroad accident. In his narrative of our history, -as far as we have read it, there are strictly speaking -no events. The landing of the Pilgrims he recounts in a -style which would hardly suit an account of a New Yorker’s -visit to Hoboken, for the purpose of enjoying a cooler air -than he found in the city. The most adventurous and heroic -actions, the grandest displays of disinterested piety and -affection, sink into dull commonplace as treated by Mr. -Hildreth. If this be history, then history is hardly worth -the attention of a live man. We should rather call it historical -geology, having for its subject the fossil remains -of men and institutions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We know there is a large class of readers who consider -this mode of writing history as the best, and who are ready -to stigmatize all realization as romance. To such a class -we can commend Mr. Hildreth’s production. He certainly -<span class='pageno' title='192' id='Page_192'></span> -deserves praise for his diligence, and the strength of understanding -he has evinced in educing a connected narrative -from his multitude of scattered authorities. But he -has not succeeded even in this department of his labors to -such a degree as to justify his sneering allusion to other -histories of the country as “Continental Sermons and -Fourth of July Orations in the guise of history.” This -hardly does justice to such a man as Bancroft, whose History -of the United States, whatever may be its faults, has -merits of investigation, narration and reflection, which -Mr. Hildreth’s more prosaic work does not approach.</p> - -<hr class='tbk128'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Dante’s Divine Comedy: The Inferno. A Literal Prose -Translation, with the Text of the Original Collated from -the Best Editions, and Explanatory Notes. By John A. -Carlyle, M. D., New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. -12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is a most valuable addition to the English translations -of the Italian Classics, and is well calculated to convey -a vivid impression of the intense beauty and sublimity of -Dante’s immortal poem to readers ignorant of the original. -The translation is faithful even to literal exactness without -being clumsy and inelegant, and the Italian text has been -collated with commendable care and industry. Indeed the -whole book appears to have been a labor of love, and -must have occupied the leisure of many years. To those -who are learning Italian the volume must be invaluable, -as it enables them to read the original side by side with -a translation at once correct and elegant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dr. Carlyle, the translator, is the brother of Thomas -Carlyle. One would suppose that being so nearly related -to the latter, he would sedulously avoid all imitation of -his manner, yet the preface to the present volume is filled -with the most amusing <span class='it'>Carlylisms</span>. The tone and rhetorical -contortions of his brother, Dr. Carlyle mimics -rather than imitates, and makes the whole matter more -ludicrous by his evident straining after that which on all -principles of propriety he should rather attempt strenuously -to avoid.</p> - -<hr class='tbk129'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Scraps, No. 1. Sketched, Etched, and Published by D. C. -Johnston. Boston.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This thin quarto contains some fifty “hits,” humorous -and satirical, done on steel. The sketcher is D. C. Johnston, -one of the first caricaturists in the country, and an -original observer of life and manners. Several of the -illustrations are pictorial essays on popular follies and -vices, and contain matter enough to supply thought for a -volume. We like the idea of publishing occasionally a -work like the present, recording as it does, with almost -historical accuracy, the various forms assumed by the -Protean genius of humbug to diddle our free and enlightened -citizens.</p> - -<hr class='tbk130'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Philosophy of the Beautiful. From the French of -Victor Cousin. Translated with Notes and an Introduction, -by Jesse Cato Daniel. New York: D. Bixby. -1 vol. 18mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Bixby, the publisher of this elegant little volume, has -done a great deal in his selection of books for republication -for the elevation of public taste. To him we owe the only -editions we have of Goethe’s Faust, and Correspondence -of Southey’s Translation of the Chronicle of the Cid, and -of a number of other valuable works. Having removed -from Lowell to New York, we trust that he will continue -his speculations on public taste; and as an earnest -of what he intends to do, we hail with much pleasure this -handsome edition of Cousin’s celebrated dissertation on -Beauty, a work written with all that accomplished philosopher’s -force and brilliancy of style, evincing his usual -keenness of analysis and range of generalization, and as -readable as it is valuable. We commend it especially to -those English readers who are followers of Alison and -Jeffrey. The subject discussed is one of the most important -in the metaphysics of criticism, and though we -cannot say that Cousin has exhausted it, he has presented -his own views in a rhetoric so lucid that he cannot -fail to charm even the readers whom he may not convince.</p> - -<hr class='tbk131'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Southey’s Commonplace Book. Edited by his Son-in-Law, -John Wood Warter, B. D. New York: Harper & -Brothers. 1 vol. 8vo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This volume is calculated to convey even a new idea of -the variety of Southey’s studies, and the exhaustlessness -of his capacity of labor. The number of his works is -sufficiently surprising, convicting as it does most literary -men either of indolence or barrenness, but we find that in -addition to writing his original productions, he was in the -custom of transcribing largely from books as he read them, -and the present volume, representing but a portion of -these labors, would appear to most readers a work for a -life. It consists of striking extracts from a large variety -of authors, most of them antiquated to the reader of the -present day, and illustrating the manners, custom, -opinions, and sentiments of Englishmen for the last three -centuries. The editor, who reports himself as Southey’s -son-in-law, is an excellent specimen of a snob, who -cannot write a sentence without writing himself down an -ass. The Harpers have issued the volume in clear type, -on white paper, at about one-fifth the price of the English -edition.</p> - -<hr class='tbk132'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>A Compendium of Ecclesiastical History. By Dr. John -C. L. Gieseler. Translated from the German by Samuel -Davidson, LL. D. New York: Harper & Brothers. -2 vols. 8vo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The publishers of these volumes have rarely issued a -book more intrinsically valuable than the present. It is a -work of immense research and labor, undertaken by a -German Professor of Theology, and indicating vast erudition. -The translation by Dr. Davidson is a faithful reflection -of the original, even to the extent of preserving -Gieseler’s rather inelegant though condensed style of -writing. The advantage of the work to students consists -in its stating results only in the text, and reserving the -notes for authorities and processes. It is a text book, not -an elaborate history like Neander’s, and as such it has obtained -great reputation for impartiality and ability. The -American translator has availed himself of the latest German -edition, and his version is accordingly the most -valuable which has been made on either side of the -Atlantic.</p> - -<hr class='tbk133'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Classic French Reader. New York: D. Appleton & Co. -1 vol. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is another of Appleton & Co.’s admirable series of -educational books. It consists of selections from the -French classical writers for the last two centuries, with -a vocabulary of all the words and idioms contained in the -work. It is edited by Professor Jewett, the American -editor of Ollendorff, and cannot fail to render important -assistance to all engaged in the study of French.</p> - -<hr class='tbk134'/> - -<div><h1 style='visibility:hidden; margin:0; font-size:0;' >LE FOLLET</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><a id='follet'></a></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i141f.jpg'> -<img src='images/i141.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0007' style='width:475px;height:auto;'/> -</a> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:10em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Anaïs Toudouze</span></p> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'><span style='font-size:larger'><span class='bold'>LE FOLLET</span></span></p> -<p class='line'><span class='bold'>PARIS</span>, Boulevart S<sup>t.</sup> Martin, 61.</p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Robes de Mme.</span> Domicile <span class='it'>r. de Seine S<sup>t.</sup> Germain, 49—Chapeaux de</span> Maurice Beauvais <span class='it'>r. Richelieu</span></p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Ombrelle</span> Cazal <span class='it'>b<sup>t.</sup> des Italiens, 23—Mouchoirs de</span> Chapron et Dubois <span class='it'>r. de la Paix, 7—Essences de</span> Guerlain <span class='it'>r. de la Paix, 11</span></p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Chaussures de</span> H. Hoffmann <span class='it'>r. de la Paix, 8—Fermoir de Gants pass. Delorme, 20</span>.</p> -<p class='line'>Graham’s Magazine</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk135'/> - -<div><h1><a id='ohlet'></a>OH, LET THY LOCKS UNBRAIDED FALL.</h1></div> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>WRITTEN BY</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>JOHN W. WATSON. ESQ.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>MUSIC COMPOSED FOR “GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE,” BY</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line' style='font-weight:bold;'>JOHN A. JANKE, JR.,</p> -<p class='line' style='margin-top:0.5em;font-size:0.9em;'>Professor of Music.</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i142f.jpg'> -<img src='images/i142.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0008' style='width:475px;height:auto;'/> -</a> -</div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>Oh! let thy locks unbraided fall,</p> -<p class='line'>To-night no gems must check their flow,</p> -<p class='line'>And I will pledge thee for the ball.</p> -<p class='line'>What hearts will bend in homage low,</p> -<p class='line'>Yes,</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i143f.jpg'> -<img src='images/i143.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0009' style='width:475px;height:auto;'/> -</a> -</div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>lower far than though they held</p> -<p class='line'>The fabled wealth of Indies’ main</p> -<p class='line'>Or were Golconda’s mines compelled</p> -<p class='line'>To yield their brilliant train——</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Thus did they fall when first I saw</p> -<p class='line'>  What since has made me dream by day,</p> -<p class='line'>And thus when I in triumph bore</p> -<p class='line'>  That one loved, straggling tress away.</p> -<p class='line'>Then do not bind with gems or gold,</p> -<p class='line'>  Its dark, voluptuous, rolling swell,</p> -<p class='line'>But let those folds lie uncontrolled</p> -<p class='line'>  I’ve learned to love so well.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk136'/> - -<p class='line' style='margin-top:2em;font-size:1.1em;font-weight:bold;'><a id='notes'></a>Transcriber’s Notes:</p> - -<p class='noindent'>Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Punctuation has been corrected -without note. Other errors have been corrected as noted below. For -illustrations, some caption text may be missing or incomplete due to condition of -the originals used for preparation of the eBook.</p> - -<div class='lgl' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>page 134, whist the broad ==> <a href='#whilst'>whilst</a> the broad</p> -<p class='line'>page 135, loadstone of all eyes, ==> <a href='#lode'>lodestone</a> of all eyes,</p> -<p class='line'>page 135, of the rael grit ==> of the <a href='#real'>real</a> grit</p> -<p class='line'>page 135, several pedlars had ==> several <a href='#ped'>pedlers</a> had</p> -<p class='line'>page 138, the inspecter, having ==> the <a href='#inspec'>inspector</a>, having</p> -<p class='line'>page 139, with a blithsome ==> with a <a href='#blithe'>blithesome</a></p> -<p class='line'>page 142, the cheeerful hearth ==> the <a href='#cheer'>cheerful</a> hearth</p> -<p class='line'>page 150, her trelliced window ==> her <a href='#trell'>trellised</a> window</p> -<p class='line'>page 151, bourne were we must ==> bourne <a href='#where'>where</a> we must</p> -<p class='line'>page 153, chords that bound ==> <a href='#cord'>cords</a> that bound</p> -<p class='line'>page 154, all thoughless did begin ==> all <a href='#thou'>thoughtless</a> did begin</p> -<p class='line'>page 156, Carroling like free-born ==> <a href='#carol'>Caroling</a> like free-born</p> -<p class='line'>page 160, room where their is a ==> room where <a href='#there'>there</a> is a</p> -<p class='line'>page 162, the unenlighted classes at ==> the <a href='#unen'>unenlightened</a> classes at</p> -<p class='line'>page 164, pardon my degression, ==> pardon my <a href='#digr'>digression</a>,</p> -<p class='line'>page 165, of N. aristrocracy who ==> of N. <a href='#aris'>aristocracy</a> who</p> -<p class='line'>page 167, and was the only ==> and <a href='#itwas'>it was</a> the only</p> -<p class='line'>page 168, Do you hear my my boast ==> Do you hear <a href='#mymy'>my</a> boast</p> -<p class='line'>page 169, ribbonds and roses; ==> <a href='#rib'>ribbons</a> and roses;</p> -<p class='line'>page 171, impertinent listner,” she ==> impertinent <a href='#list'>listener</a>,” she</p> -<p class='line'>page 173, creaturs while I am ==> <a href='#creat'>creatures</a> while I am</p> -<p class='line'>page 179, trosach, dell and valley, ==> <a href='#tros'>trossach</a>, dell and valley,</p> -<p class='line'>page 180, a clump of hazles ==> a clump of <a href='#haz'>hazels</a></p> -<p class='line'>page 182, in the <span class='it'>cortégé</span>, I ==> in the <a href='#cort'><span class='it'>cortège</span></a>, I</p> -<p class='line'>page 183, solace to our lonelienss; ==> solace to our <a href='#lone'>loneliness</a>;</p> -<p class='line'>page 184, of the swoln heart rise ==> of the <a href='#swol'>swollen</a> heart rise</p> -<p class='line'>page 185, be one of unparalelled ==> be one of <a href='#para'>unparalleled</a></p> -<p class='line'>page 189, corn and beach-nuts, ==> corn and <a href='#beech'>beech</a>-nuts,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXV, No. 3, -September 1849, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, SEPTEMBER 1849 *** - -***** This file should be named 55380-h.htm or 55380-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/3/8/55380/ - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from -page images generously made available by Google Books - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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