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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol. XXXII No. 2. 
+February 1848, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: Graham's Magazine Vol. XXXII No. 2.  February 1848
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: George R. Graham
+        Robert T. Conrad
+
+Release Date: June 24, 2009 [EBook #29218]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, FEB 1848 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at
+http://www.pgdpcanada.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE.
+
+VOL. XXXII. PHILADELPHIA, FEBRUARY, 1848. No. 2.
+
+STOKE CHURCH AND PARK.
+
+THE SCENE OF GRAY'S ELEGY, AND RESIDENCE OF THE PENNS OF PENNSYLVANIA
+
+BY R. BALMANNO.
+
+
+[Illustration: Manor of Stoke]
+
+The Manor of Stoke, with its magnificent mansion and picturesque park,
+is situate near the village of Stoke Pogeys, in the county of
+Buckingham, four miles north-west of Windsor.
+
+About two miles distant from Stoke lies the village of Slough,
+rendered famous by the residence of the celebrated astronomer, Sir
+William Herschel, and a short way further, on a gentle slope continued
+the whole way from Stoke, stand the venerable towers of time-honored
+Eton, on the bank of the Thames, directly opposite, and looking up to
+the proud castle of the kings of England, unmatched in its lofty,
+commanding situation and rich scenery by that of any royal residence
+in Europe.
+
+Stoke, anciently written Stoches, belonged, in the time of William the
+Conqueror, A. D. 1086, to William, son of Ansculf, of whom it was held
+by Walter de Stoke. Previous thereto, it was in part held by Siret, a
+vassal of Harold, and at the same time, a certain Stokeman, the vassal
+of Tubi, held another portion. Finally, in the year 1300, during the
+reign of King Edward the First, it received its present appellation by
+the intermarriage of Amicia de Stoke, the heiress, with Robert de
+Pogeys. Under the sovereignty of Edward the Third, 1346, John de
+Molines, originally of French extraction, and from the town of that
+name in Bourbonnais, married Margaret de Pogeys; and, in consequence
+of his eminent services, obtained license of the king to make a castle
+of his manor-house of Stoke Pogeys, fortify with stone walls
+embattled, and imparke the woods; also that it should be exempt from
+the authority of the marshal of the king's household, or any of his
+officers; and in further testimony of the king's favor, he had summons
+to Parliament among the barons of the realm.
+
+During the wars of the rival Roses, the place was owned by Sir Robert
+Hungerford, commonly called Lord Moleyns, by reason of his marriage
+with Alianore, daughter of William, Lord Moleyns.
+
+This Lord Robert, siding with the Lancasterians, or the Red Roses,
+upon the loss of the battle of Towton, fled to York, where King Henry
+the Sixth then was, and afterward with him into Scotland. He was
+attainted by the Parliament of Edward the Fourth; but the king took
+compassion on Alianore, his wife, and her children, committing her and
+them to the care of John, Lord Wenlock, to whom he had granted all her
+husband's manors and lands, granting them a fitting support as long as
+her said husband, Lord Robert, should live. But the Lancasterians
+making head in the north, he "flew out" again, being the chief of
+those who were in the castle of the Percys, at Alnwick, with five or
+six hundred Frenchmen, and being taken prisoner at the battle of
+Hexham, he was beheaded at Newcastle on Tyne, but buried in the north
+aisle of the cathedral of Salisbury.
+
+Lady Alianore, his widow, lies buried in the church of Stoke Pogeys;
+and her monument may still be seen, with an epitaph commencing thus:
+
+    _Hic, hoc sub lapide sepelitur Corpus venerabilis
+    Dominĉ Alianorĉ Molins, Baronissiĉ, quam
+    prius desponsavit Dominus Robertus Hungerford,
+    miles et Baro. &c. &c._
+
+Notwithstanding the grant to Lord Wenlock, Thomas, the son and heir of
+Lord Robert Hungerford, succeeded to the estate. For a time he sided
+with the famous Earl of Warwick, the king-maker, who took part with
+Edward the Fourth, but afterward "falling off," and endeavoring for
+the restoration of King Henry the Sixth, was seized on, and tried for
+his life at Salisbury, before that diabolical tyrant, crook-back Duke
+of Gloucester, afterward Richard the Third, where he had judgment of
+the death of a traitor, and suffered accordingly the next day.
+
+But during the reign of Henry the Seventh, in 1485, when the Red Roses
+became triumphant at the decisive battle of Bosworth, and these
+unnatural and bloody wars which had devastated England for nearly
+thirty years, being brought to a close, by the union of Henry with
+Elizabeth of York, representative of the White Roses, the attainder of
+Thomas, as well as that of his father, Lord Robert, being reversed in
+Parliament, his only child and heir, called Mary, succeeded to the
+estate.
+
+Lady Mary married Edward, Lord Hastings, from whom the present Earl of
+Huntingdon is descended. She used the title of Lady Hungerford,
+Botreux, Molines, and Peverell. To this marriage Shakspeare alludes in
+the tragedy of King Henry the VI., Part 3, A. 4, Sc. 1, when he makes
+the Duke of Clarence say ironically,
+
+    For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves
+    To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford.
+
+Lord George Hungerford succeeding his father, was advanced to the
+title of Earl of Huntingdon by King Henry the Eighth, in 1529. He died
+the 24th of March, 1543, and lies buried in the chancel of Stoke
+Pogeys. Edward, his second son, was a warrior with King Henry the
+Eighth, and during the reign of Henry's daughter, Queen Mary, 1555,
+declared his testament, appointing his body to be buried at Stoke
+Pogeys, and directing his executors to build a chapel of stone, with
+an altar therein, adjoining the church or chancel, where the late Earl
+Huntingdon and his wife (his father and mother) lay buried; and that a
+tomb should be made, with their images carved in stone, appointing
+that a plate of copper, double gilt, should be made to represent his
+own image, of the size of life, _in harness_, (armor,) and a memorial
+in writing, with his arms, to be placed upright on the wall of the
+chapel, without any other tomb for him. He died without issue. Earl
+Henry was the last of the illustrious family of Huntingdon who
+possessed the manor and manor-house of Stoke; and the embarrassed
+state of his affairs compelled him to mortgage the estate to one
+Branthwait, a sergeant at law, in 1580, during which period it was
+occupied by Lord Chancellor Sir Christopher Hatton, the fine dancer,
+one of the celebrated _favorites_ of Elizabeth, the lascivious
+daughter of King Henry the Eighth--a woman as fickle as profligate, as
+cruel and hard-hearted, so far as regarded her numerous paramours, as
+her brutal father was in respect to his wives.
+
+This historical detail, gathered from Domesday Book, Dugdale, and
+other authorities, is narrated in consequence of its bearing upon some
+celebrated poems hereafter to be noticed, and is continued up to the
+present period for a like reason.
+
+Sir Christopher Hatton died in 1591, and settled his estate on Sir
+William Newport, whose daughter became the second wife of Sir Edward
+Coke, Lord Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench, who purchased
+the estate of Stoke. After the dissolution of the Parliament by King
+Charles the First, in March, 1628-9, Sir Edward Coke being then
+greatly advanced in years, retired to his house at Stoke, where he
+spent the remainder of his days in a quiet retirement, universally
+respected and esteemed; and there, says his epitaph, crowned his pious
+life with a pious and Christian departure, on Wednesday the 3d day of
+September, A. D., 1634, and of his age 83; his last words, "THY
+KINGDOM COME, THY WILL BE DONE!"
+
+Upon the death of Sir Edward Coke, the manor and estate of Stoke
+devolved to his son-in-law, Viscount Purbeck, elder brother of
+Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, who perished by the hand of the
+assassin, Felton.
+
+Lord Purbeck, upon the death of his wife, daughter of Sir Edward Coke,
+married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Slingsby, by whom he had a
+son, Robert, which Robert, marrying the daughter and heir of Sir John
+Danvers, one of the judges who sat on the trial of King Charles the
+First, obtained a patent from Cromwell, Protector of the Commonwealth,
+to change his name to Danvers, alledging as the reasons for his so
+doing "the many disservices done to the commonwealth by the name of
+the family of Villiers."
+
+In 1657, Viscount Purbeck granted a lease of the manor and house of
+Stoke, to Sir Robert Gayer during his own life; and in the same year,
+his son, Robert Villiers, or Danvers, sold his reversionary interest
+in the estate to Sir R. Gayer for the sum of eight thousand five
+hundred and sixty-four pounds. The family of Gayers continued in
+possession until 1724, when the estate was sold for twelve thousand
+pounds to Edmund Halsey, Esq., M.P., who died in 1729, his daughter
+Anne married Sir Richard Temple, created Viscount Cobham, who survived
+him; and she resided at Stoke until her death in the year 1760.
+
+The house and manor of Stoke were sold in the same year, by the
+representatives of Edmund Halsey, to the Honorable Thomas Penn, Lord
+Proprietary of the Province of Pennsylvania, the eldest surviving son
+of the Honorable William Penn, the celebrated founder and original
+proprietary of the province.
+
+Upon the death of Thomas Penn, in 1775, the manor of Stoke, together
+with all his other estates, devolved upon his eldest surviving son,
+John, by the Right Honorable Lady Juliana, his wife, fourth daughter
+of the Earl of Pomfret.
+
+In 1789, the ancient mansion of Stoke, appearing to Mr. Penn, after
+some years absence in America, to demand very extensive repairs,
+(chiefly from the destructive consequences of damp in the principal
+rooms,) it was judged advisable to take it down.
+
+The style of its architecture was not of a kind the most likely to
+dissuade him from this undertaking. Most of the great buildings of
+Queen Elizabeth's reign have a style peculiar to themselves, both in
+form and finishing, where, though much of the old Gothic is retained,
+and a great part of the new style is adopted, yet neither
+predominates, while both, thus indiscriminately blended, compose a
+fantastic species, hardly reducible to any class or name. One of its
+characteristics is the affectation of _large_ and _lofty_ windows,
+where, says Lord Bacon, "you shall have sometimes faire houses so full
+of glass, that one cannot tell where to become to be out of the sun."
+A perfect specimen of this fantastic style, in complete repair, may be
+seen in Hardwick Hall, county of Derby, one of the many residences of
+that princely and amiable nobleman, the Duke of Devonshire, and a
+perfect _contrast_ to it, at his other noble residence not many miles
+distant, in the same county, Chatsworth, "the Palace of the Peak."
+
+It is true that high antiquity alone gives, in the eye of taste, a
+continually increasing value to specimens of all such kinds of
+architecture; but beside that, the superiority of the new site chosen
+by Mr. Penn was manifest, the principal rooms of the old mansion at
+Stoke, where the windows admitted light from _both_ the opposite
+sides, were instances, peculiarly exemplifying the remark of Lord
+Bacon, and countenancing the design to lessen the number of bad, and
+increase that of the good examples of architecture. But a wing of the
+ancient plan was preserved, and is still kept in repair, as a relic,
+harmonizing with the surrounding scenery, and forms with the rustic
+offices, and fruit-gardens annexed, the _villa rustica_ and
+_fructuaria_ of the place.
+
+The new buildings, or, more properly speaking, Palace of Stoke, was
+begun by Mr. Penn immediately after his return from a long absence in
+Pennsylvania, and was covered-in in December, 1790. It is scarcely
+possible to conceive a finer site than that chosen by him for his new
+mansion, being on a commanding eminence, the windows of the principal
+front looking over a rich, variegated landscape toward the lofty
+towers of Windsor Castle, at a distance of four miles, which
+terminates the view in that direction; whilst about and around the
+site are abundance of magnificent aged oaks, elms, and beeches.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+The poems of Thomas Gray, who was educated at Eton, and resided at
+Stoke, are perhaps better known, more read, more easily remembered,
+and more frequently quoted, than those of any other English poet.
+Where is the person who does not remember with feelings approaching to
+enthusiasm, the impressions made on his youthful fancy by the
+enchanting language of the "Elegy written in a Country Church-yard?"
+Who can ever forget the impressions with which he first read the
+narrative of the "hoary-headed swain," and the deep emotion felt on
+perusing the pathetic epitaph, "graved on the stone, beneath yon aged
+thorn," beginning--
+
+    Here rests his head upon the lap of earth.
+    A youth to fortune and to fame unknown:
+    Fair science frowned not on his humble birth.
+    And melancholy marked him for her own.
+
+That exquisite poem contains passages "grav'd" on the hearts of all
+who ever read it in youth, until they themselves become
+hoary-headed--and then, perhaps, remembered most.
+
+But it is not the Elegy alone which makes an indelible impression on
+the youthful reader; equally imperishable are the lines on a distant
+prospect of Eton College.
+
+    Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
+    That crown the wat'ry glade,
+    Where grateful science still adores
+    Her Henry's holy shade.[1]
+
+And who can ever forget the Bard--
+
+    Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
+    Confusion on thy banners wait!
+  Though fann'd by conquests crimson wing,
+    They mock the air with idle state.
+
+Or the lovely Ode on the Spring.
+
+  Lo! where the rosy bosom'd Hours
+     Fair Venus' train appear,
+  Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
+     And wake the purple year!
+
+Or those sublime Odes--On The Progress of Poesy. Awake, Ĉolian lyre,
+awake; and the Descent of Odin:
+
+    Uprose the king of men with speed,
+    And saddled strait his coal-black steed:
+    Down the yawning steep he rode,
+    That leads to Hela's drear abode.
+
+[Footnote 1: Eton was founded and endowed by King Henry the Sixth. A
+marble bust of the poet Gray was presented by Lord Morpeth, in 1846,
+and placed, amongst many others, in the upper school.]
+
+Who can ever forget the pleasure experienced on the first perusal, and
+on every subsequent reading of these fascinating productions? They
+are such as all, imbued with even a moderate degree of taste and
+feeling, must respond to. But there is another poem of Gray's, less
+read, perhaps, than these, but which, from its humor and arch playful
+style, is apt to make a strong and lasting impression on an
+enthusiastic juvenile mind. It opens so abruptly and oddly, that
+attention is bespoke from the first line. It is entitled "A Long
+Story."
+
+    In Britain's isle--no matter where--
+    An ancient pile of building stands:
+    The Huntingdons and Hattons there
+    Employed the power of fairy hands
+    To raise the ceilings fretted height,
+    Each panel in achievements clothing,
+    Rich windows, that exclude the light,
+    And passages, that lead to nothing.
+
+This poem, teeming with quaint humor, contains one hundred and
+forty-four lines, beside, _as it says_, "two thousand which are lost!"
+
+Extreme admiration of the poems of Gray had been excited in the
+writer's mind even when a schoolboy. In after years, whilst occupying
+chambers in the Temple, he first became aware that the scenery so
+exquisitely described in the Elegy, and the "ancient pile" of
+building, so graphically delineated in the Long Story, were both
+within a few hours' ride of London, and adjoining each other.
+
+Until about the year 1815 he had constantly supposed that the Country
+Church-yard was altogether an imaginary conception, and that the
+ancient mansion of the Huntingdons was far away, somewhere in the
+midland counties; but when fully aware of the true localities, he was
+almost mad with impatience, until, on a Saturday afternoon, _he_ could
+get relieved from the turmoil of business, to fly to scenes hallowed
+by recollections of the halcyon days of youthful aspirations of hope,
+and love, and innocence--and sweetly and fresh do such reminiscences
+still float in his memory.
+
+About the period in question, there was a club in London, formed of
+about twenty or thirty of the most aristocratic of the young nobility,
+possessed of more wealth than wisdom. They gave themselves the name of
+the Whip Club, because each member drove his own team of four horses.
+The chief tutor of these titled Jehu's in the art and mystery of
+driving, was no less a personage than the celebrated Tom Moody, driver
+of the Windsor Coach, and by that crack coach it was intended to
+proceed as far as Slough, on the intended excursion to Stoke, and then
+turn off to the left; but as the Whip Club, at the period in question,
+attracted a large share of public attention in the metropolis, perhaps
+a short notice of it may be here permitted, as it has been long since
+defunct, and is never again likely to be revived, now that steam and
+iron horses have taken the road.
+
+The vehicles, horses, trappings, and gearing, were the most elegant
+and expensive that money could command; and it was a rare thing to see
+upward of twenty such equipages, which, as well as the housings of the
+horses, were emblazoned with heraldric devices, and glittering all
+over with splendid silver and gold ornaments.
+
+The open carriages were all filled with the loveliest of England's
+lovely women, who generally congregated together at an early
+breakfast, or what with them was considered an early breakfast,
+between ten and eleven o'clock! The meet took place at the house of
+Lord Hawke, in Portman Square. His lordship was high admiral, or
+president, Sir Bellingham Graham, whipper-in--and courteously and
+cleverly did Sir Bellingham (or Bellinjim, as it is pronounced)
+perform his delicate duty. When each driver mounted his box, after
+handing in the ladies, it was wonderful to observe with what
+dexterity, ease, and order, all wheeled into line, when the leader,
+with a flourish of his long whip--being the signal for which all were
+watching--led off the splendid array.
+
+It was a gay sight to witness the start, as they swept round the
+square--for the horses were one and all of pure blood, and
+unparalleled for beauty, symmetry, and speed.
+
+To one unaccustomed to such a sight, it might appear somewhat
+dangerous. The fiery impatience of the horses--their pawing and
+champing, the tossing of their beautiful heads, and the swan-like
+curving of their glittering, sleek necks, until they were fairly
+formed into order--at which time they knew just as well as their
+owners that _the play_ was going to begin. But it was perfectly
+delightful to observe the graceful manner in which each pair laid
+their small heads and ears together when fairly under way, beating
+time with their highly polished hoofs--pat, pat, pat, pat, as true as
+the most disciplined regiment marching to a soul-stirring quick step,
+or a troupe of well-trained ballet girls, bounding across the stage of
+the Italian Opera.
+
+When fairly off and skimming along the road, it was, perhaps, as
+animating a show as London ever witnessed since its palmiest days of
+tilt and tournament. I say nothing of the ladies, their commingled
+charms, or gorgeous attire; I only noticed that during the gayety in
+the square, previous to starting, their recognition of each other, and
+the beaux of their acquaintance, there were plenty of
+
+    "Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles,
+    Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
+    And love to live in dimples sleek."
+
+This celebrated club congregated every fortnight, during the gay
+season of May and June, and spent the day at the residence of one of
+their number, within twenty or thirty miles of London, returning in
+the evening, exactly in the order they had set out.
+
+Master Moody, the driver and proprietor of the fast Windsor Coach,
+had, as said, been the tutor of these aristocratic charioteers, who
+placed themselves under his guardianship, and had been taught to
+handle "the ribbons" until declared perfect in the noble science. He
+had consequently imbibed much and many of the _airs_ and _graces_, and
+manners of his pupils.
+
+Being anxious to have a ride beside this great man, I was at
+Piccadilly long before he started, and by a pretty handsome douceur to
+his cad, had the supreme felicity of obtaining a seat on the box, and
+certainly was well repaid for the extra expense of sitting by
+Corinthian Tom.
+
+He was a tall fellow, and had a severely serious face; was dressed in
+the extreme of driving fashion; wore delicate white kid gloves, and
+the tops of his highly-polished boots were white as the lily. In
+short, his whole "toggery" was faultless--a perfect out-and-outer. He
+was truly a great man, or appeared to fancy himself such--for he
+rarely condescended to exchange a word, except with an acquaintance,
+and even then, it was with a condescending, patronizing air; and he
+smiled as seldom as a Connecticut lawyer. Although sitting close by
+his side for twenty miles, not one word passed between us during the
+whole journey.
+
+The nags driven by this proud fellow were as splendid as himself;
+finer cattle never flew over Epsom Downs, the Heath of Ascot, or
+Doncaster Course--pure bloods, every one of them, and such as might
+have served Guido as models for his famous fresco of the chariot of
+Apollo; but Guido's steeds, although they are represented tearing away
+furiously, are lubberly _drays_, compared with the slim, graceful,
+fleet stags of Tom Moody.
+
+When the cad gave the word--"all right," Tom started them with his
+short, shrill "t'chit, t'chit," and a crack of his two-fathom whip
+right over the ears of the leaders, as loud as the report of a pistol.
+They sprang forward with a maddening energy, almost terrifying; but
+the coach was hung and balanced with such precision, and the Windsor
+road kept in the finest order for royalty, there was no jumping or
+jolting, it glided along as smoothly as if it had been running on
+rails. A proud man was Master Moody; not so much of himself, perhaps,
+or of his glossy, broad-brimmed beaver, and broadcloth "upper
+Benjamin," or the dashing silk tie around his neck, but of his
+beautiful nags--and he had reason, for there was not an equipage on
+the road, from the ducal chariot to the dandy tandem, to which he did
+not give the go-by like lightning.
+
+The rapidity of the movement, and the beauty of the animals, produced
+an excitement sufficient to enable one to appreciate the rapture of
+the Arab, as he flies over the desert on his beloved barb, enjoying,
+feeling, exulting in liberty, sweet, intoxicating, unbounded liberty,
+with the whole wilderness for a home.
+
+Some such feelings took possession of me, as the well-poised machine
+shot along. Quick as thought we threaded Kensington High street,
+skirted the wall of Lord Holland's park, just catching, like the
+twinkle of a sunbeam, a glimpse of the antique turrets of that classic
+fane peeping through the trees, as we passed the centre avenue.
+
+We speedily reached Hammersmith and Turnham Green, and then passed
+Sion House and park, the princely residence of the Duke of
+Northumberland, then dashed through the straggling old town of
+Brentford. The intervening fields and openings into the landscape
+affording enchanting prospects before entering on Hounslow Heath, when
+the horses having got warm, the driver gave them full head, and the
+vehicle attained a speed truly exhilarating.
+
+The increased momentum, and the extensive prairie-like expanse of
+Hounslow Heath, would have realized in any enthusiastic mind, the
+feelings of the children of the desert.
+
+This first excursion to Stoke was made during the month of May, when
+all nature is fresh and fair; the guelder-roses and lilacs being in
+full flower, and the hawthorn hedges were one sheet of milky
+fragrance, the air was almost intoxicating, owing to the concentrated
+perfumes arising from fruit orchards in full blossom, and the
+interminable succession of flower gardens opposite every house
+skirting that lovely road, the beauty of which few can conceive who
+have not been in England; but the fresh, _pure_ air on the Heath,
+infused a new feeling, a realization of unalloyed happiness; we were
+rapidly hastening toward scenes for which the soul was yearning, and
+hope, bright, young hope, lent wings and a charm to every object,
+animate and inanimate.
+
+The usual relay of fresh horses were in waiting at Cranburn Bridge,
+and the reeking bloods were instantly changed for others, not a whit
+less spirited than their released compeers. Away went Moody, and away
+went Moody's fiery steeds. In a very short time we passed, at a few
+miles on the hither side of Slough, the "ivy-mantled tower" of Upton
+Church, which, but for one or two small, square openings in it, may be
+mistaken for a gigantic bush, or unshapely tree of evergreen ivy.
+
+Arriving at Slough, I bade adieu to Master Moody; the forty feet
+telescope of Herschel, with its complicated frame-work and machinery,
+attracting only a few minutes attention. The road leading up to Stoke
+Green is one of those beautiful lanes so exquisitely described by
+Gilbert White, in his History of Selborne, or still more graphically
+portrayed by Miss Mitford, in her Tales of our Village. Stoke Green
+lies to the right of this lane, and at the distance of one or two
+fields further on, there is a stile in the corner of one of them, on
+the left, where a foot-path crosses diagonally. In going through a gap
+in the hedge, you catch the first peep of the spire of Stoke Church.
+After passing the field, you come to a narrow lane, overhung with
+hawthorns; it leads from Salt-Hill to the village of West-End Stoke.
+Keeping along the lane a short way, and passing through a small gate
+on the top of the bank, you at once enter the domain of Stoke Park,
+and are admitted to a full view of the church, which stands at a short
+distance, but almost immediately within the gate, are particularly
+struck by the appearance of a grand sarcophagus, erected by Mr. Penn
+to the memory of Gray, in the year 1779. It is a lofty structure, in
+the purest style of architecture; and a tolerable idea of it, and the
+surrounding scenery, may be obtained from the cut at the head of this
+article, which has been executed from a drawing made on the spot. The
+inscription and quotations following are on the several sides of the
+pedestal. It is needless to say they are from the Elegy, and Ode to
+Eton College--the latter poem being unquestionably written from this
+very spot; and Mr. Penn has exhibited the finest taste in their
+selection.
+
+On the end facing Mr. Penn's house--
+
+            THIS MONUMENT,
+       IN HONOR OF THOMAS GRAY,
+    WAS ERECTED, A. D. MDCCXCIX., AMONG
+       THE SCENES CELEBRATED BY THAT
+       GREAT LYRIC AND ELEGIAC POET.
+    HE DIED XXX JULY, MDCCLXXI, AND
+    LIES UNNOTICED IN THE CHURCH-YARD
+    ADJOINING, UNDER THE TOMB-STONE ON
+    WHICH HE PIOUSLY AND PATHETICALLY
+      RECORDED THE INTERMENT OF HIS
+        AUNT AND LAMENTED MOTHER.
+
+On the side looking toward Windsor--
+
+    Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
+    Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove;
+    Now drooping, woful wan, like one forlorn,
+    Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
+
+    One morn I miss'd him on the 'custom'd hill,
+    Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree;
+    Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
+    Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.
+
+On the end facing Stoke Palace--
+
+      Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
+        That crown the wat'ry glade,
+      Ah! happy hills! Ah, pleasing shade!
+        Ah! fields belov'd in vain!
+    Where once my careless childhood strayed,
+        A stranger yet to pain!
+    I feel the gales that from ye blow,
+        A momentary bliss bestow.
+
+On the west side, looking toward the church-yard--
+
+    Beneath these rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
+    Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,
+    Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
+    The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
+
+    The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
+    And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
+    Await alike th' inevitable hour--
+    The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
+
+This noble monument is erected on a beautiful green mound, and is
+surrounded with flowers. It is protected by a deep trench, in the
+bottom of which is a palisade; but the inclosure may be entered by
+application at one of Mr. Penn's pretty entrance lodges, which is
+close by. The prospects from this part of the park are surpassingly
+beautiful, particularly looking toward the "distant spires and antique
+towers" of Eton and Windsor.
+
+It may be worth while here to remark, that the church and church-yard
+of Stoke is surrounded by Mr. Penn's property, or more properly
+speaking his park.
+
+Coming upon the beautiful monument quite unexpectedly, was not likely
+to diminish the enthusiasm previously entertained; and before
+proceeding to the church-yard, it was impossible to resist the impulse
+of making a rapid memorandum sketch of it. In after years, it was
+carefully and correctly drawn in all its aspects. Proceeding along
+"the churchway path" into the church-yard, where in reality "rests his
+head upon the lap of earth," the tomb-stone of the admired and beloved
+poet was soon found. It is at the east end of the church, nearly under
+a window.
+
+Persons of a cold temperament, and not imbued with the love of poetry,
+may perhaps smile when it is admitted, that the approach to that tomb
+was made with steps as slow and reverential as those of any devout
+Catholic approaching the shrine of his patron saint.
+
+Long was it gazed upon, and frequently was the inscription read, and
+the following cut exhibits the coat of arms and inscriptions on the
+blue marble tabular stone, as they were carefully drawn and copied,
+that very evening:
+
+[Illustration: Coat of Arms and inscriptions]
+
+    IN THE VAULT BENEATH ARE DEPOSITED
+     IN HOPE OF A JOYFUL RESURRECTION,
+             THE REMAINS OF
+             MARY ANTROBUS,
+  SHE DIED UNMARRIED, NOVEMBER 5TH, 1749,
+                AGED 66.
+
+         *    *    *    *    *
+
+    IN THE SAME PIOUS CONFIDENCE,
+    BESIDE HER FRIEND AND SISTER,
+    HERE SLEEP THE REMAINS OF
+           DOROTHY GRAY,
+   WIDOW, THE CAREFUL TENDER MOTHER
+  OF MANY CHILDREN, ONE OF WHOM ALONE
+   HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO SURVIVE HER.
+       SHE DIED MARCH 11TH, 1753,
+                AGED 67.
+
+
+It was a soft, balmy evening; "every leaf was at rest;" the deer in
+the park had betaken themselves to their favorite haunts, under the
+wide-spreading boughs of ancient oaks and elms, and were reposing in
+happy security.
+
+The long continued twilight of England was gathering in, and I still
+lingered in the consecrated inclosure, fascinated with the
+unmistakable antiquity of the church, which, although small as
+compared with many others, is eminently romantic, and I cannot better
+describe the scene, and the feelings impressed at the moment, than in
+the words of one equally near as dear--
+
+    "A holy spell pervades thy gloom,
+      A silent charm breathes all around;
+    And the dread stillness of the tomb
+      Reigns o'er thy hallowed haunted ground."
+
+It may be proper to mention that the poem from which this is
+extracted, is descriptive of Haddon Hall, one of the most ancient and
+perfect specimens of the pure Gothic in England. The poem appeared in
+one of the English Annuals.
+
+At peace with all the world, and filled with emotions of true and
+sincere gratitude to the Giver of all good, for the pure happiness
+then enjoyed, I sank down by the tomb-stone, overpowered with
+veneration, and breathed fervent thanks to HIM who refuses not the
+offering of a humble and contrite heart.
+
+This narrative is meant to be a faithful and honest representation of
+_facts_ and _circumstances_ that actually occurred, and it is firmly
+believed that none can stray into an ancient secluded country
+church-yard, during the decline of day, without deeply meditating on
+those who for ages have slept below, and where ALL must soon sleep,
+without feeling true devotion, and forming resolves for future and
+amended conduct.
+
+Slowly quitting the church-yard, and approaching the elevated
+monument, now become almost sublime as the shades of evening rendered
+dim its classic outline, it was impossible to avoid lingering some
+time longer beside it, recalling various passages of the Elegy
+appropriate to the occasion; the landscape was indeed "glimmering on
+the sight," and there was a "solemn stillness in the air," well
+befitting the occasion; more particularly appropriate was that fine
+stanza, which, although written by Gray, is omitted in all editions of
+the Elegy except the one hereafter noticed, in where it was
+re-incorporated by the editor, [the present writer,] in consequence of
+a suggestion kindly offered in a letter from Granville Penn, Esq.,
+then residing with his brother at Stoke Park.
+
+    Hark! how the sacred calm that breathes around
+      Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease;
+    In still small accents whispering from the ground,
+      A grateful earnest of eternal peace.
+
+The Elegy is undoubtedly the most popular poem in the English
+language; it was translated into that of every country in Europe,
+besides Latin and Greek. It has been more frequently, elaborately and
+expensively illustrated with pictorial embellishments. The autograph
+copy of it, in the poet's small, neat hand, written on two small half
+sheets of paper, was sold last year for no less than _one hundred
+pounds sterling_; and the spirited purchaser was most appropriately
+the proprietor of Stoke Park, Granville John Penn, Esq., who at the
+same sale gave _forty-five pounds_ for the autograph copy of The Long
+Story, and _one hundred and five pounds_ for the Odes; whilst another
+gentleman gave forty pounds for two short poems and a letter from the
+illustrious poet on the death of his father.
+
+The truthfulness of the pictures presented to the imagination in the
+Elegy could not be denied, for there, on the very spot where, beyond
+all question, it was composed, and after a lapse of nearly one hundred
+years, the images which impressed the mind of the inspired poet came
+fresh at every turn. It is true the curfew did not toll, but the
+"lowing herd" were as distinctly audible as the beetle wheeling his
+droning flight. The yew tree's shade--that identical tree, to which,
+to a moral certainty, the poet had reference--is represented in the
+cut, in the corner of the inclosure, as distinctly as the smallness of
+the scale admitted, underneath its shade the "turf lies in many a
+mouldering heap," and the "rugged elms" are outside the inclosure, but
+their outstretched arms overspread many a "narrow cell and frail
+memorial," where the "rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep," and
+where also "their name and years are spelt by th' unlettered muse." A
+singular error in spelling _the name_ of one of those humble persons,
+was however committed by the poet himself in his "Long Story," very
+pardonable in him, however, as the party was then alive; but that the
+error should have been perpetuated in ALL EDITIONS save one, down to
+that entitled "The Eton," being printed there, and edited by a
+reverend clergyman resident in the college, is somewhat singular;
+moreover the _second_ edition of the Eton Gray appeared this very
+year, and the error remains, although the name is correctly given on
+the grave-stone. The excepted edition, in which alone it is correctly
+given, was published in 1821, and edited by the present writer for his
+friend Mr. John Sharpe. The circumstance will be noticed presently.
+
+The Elegy of Gray was evidently written under the influence of strong
+feeling, and vivid impressions of the beautiful in the scenery around
+him, and when his sensitive mind was overspread with melancholy, in
+consequence of the death of his young, amiable and accomplished friend
+West, to whom, in June, 1742, he addressed his lovely Ode to Spring,
+which was written at Stoke; but before it reached his friend he was
+numbered with the dead! So true was the friendship subsisting between
+them, that the poet of Stoke was overpowered with a melancholy which,
+although subdued, lasted during a great part of his life.
+
+The scenes amid which the Elegy was composed were well adapted to
+soothe and cherish that contemplative sadness which, when the wounds
+of grief are healing, it is a luxury to indulge, and that the poet did
+indulge them is self-evident in many a line.
+
+In returning to Stoke Green to spend the night, some of the rustic
+peasantry were wending their way down the lane to the same place, but
+none of these simple people, although questioned, could tell aught of
+him whose fame and works had induced the pilgrimage to Stoke; neither
+did better success attend any succeeding inquiry at the village. So
+universally true is that scriptural saying, like ALL the sayings of
+HIM who uttered it, that a prophet is not without honor, save in his
+own country and in his own house.
+
+Retiring to rest early, with a full determination to do that which had
+often been resolved but never accomplished, that is, to rise with the
+dawn; the resolution had nearly defeated the purpose, inasmuch as the
+mind being surcharged with the past and the expected, there was little
+inclination to sleep until after midnight. But a full and fixed
+determination of the will overcomes greater difficulties, and the
+first streak of light at break of day found me up and dressed, and of
+a truth
+
+    Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
+    To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
+
+The dawn was most lovely, and the perfume from the hawthorns
+delicious; every thing indicated a beautiful day. The sarcophagus
+stands on the most elevated spot, and there, where probably in days
+long past the poet had watched the rising of the sun, did I, a humble
+pilgrim at his shrine, await the same sublime spectacle.
+
+As if to gratify a long cherished desire, the sun did rise with a
+splendor impossible to be exceeded, and the following lines, by an
+anonymous author, immediately recurred to memory:
+
+    O who can paint the rapture of the soul,
+      As o'er the scene the sun first steals to sight,
+    And all the world of vapors as they roll,
+      And heaven's vast arch unveils in living light.
+
+To witness the break of day in the country is indeed a luxury to which
+the inhabitants of cities are strangers. As the sun rose from the
+horizon, his increasing light brought into view myriads of dew-drops
+on every bud and blossom, which glittered and shone like diamonds. The
+sky-larks began to rise from their grassy beds among the daisies,
+ascending in circles to the clouds, and caroling a music which is
+almost heavenly to hear. The deer also were getting up from their
+shadowy lair under the trees, and the young fawns sprung away and took
+to flight as I passed a herd, under a clump of beeches, in order to
+obtain a view of the ancient mansion. In approaching it, a sound,
+familiar indeed but far from musical, struck the ear, and added
+another proof and a fresh charm to the fidelity of the picture drawn
+by the poet. The swallows were merrily "twittering" about the
+gable-ends, and it did the heart good to stand watching the probable
+successors of those active little visiters, whose predecessors had
+possibly attracted the notice of the bard. It is well known that these
+birds, like the orchard oriole, return year after year to the same
+house, and haunt where they had previously reared their young.[2]
+
+A strong and perhaps natural desire to inspect the interior of all
+that remained of the ancient mansion of the Huntingdons and Hattons
+was defeated, inasmuch as it was found barricaded. Imagination had
+been busy for many a year, in respect to its great hall and gallery,
+its rich windows "and passages that lead to nothing;" but as access to
+the interior was denied, the sketch-book was put in requisition, and
+an accurate view soon secured.
+
+Observing at some distance, through a vista among the trees, a lofty
+pillar with a statue on its summit, and proceeding thither, it was
+found to be another of those splendid ornaments with which the taste
+and liberality of the proprietor had adorned his park, being erected
+to the memory of Sir Edward Coke, whose statue it was which surmounted
+the capital. Whilst engaged in sketching this truly classic object, a
+gentleman approached, who introduced himself as Mr. Osborne, the
+superintendent of the demesne. He expressed pleasure at seeing the
+sketches, and politely offered every facility for making such, but
+hinted that Mr. Penn had scruples, and very proper ones, about
+strangers approaching too near the house on the Sabbath day, to make
+sketches of objects in its vicinity.
+
+[Footnote 2: A pair of Baltimore birds (the orchard oriole) returned
+summer after summer, and built their hanging nest, not only in the
+same apple-tree, but on the same bough, which overhung a terrace, in a
+garden belonging to the writer at Geneva, New York, until one season a
+terrific storm, not of hail but ice, tore the nest from the tree, and
+killed the young, and the parent birds never afterward returned.]
+
+Mr. Osborne's offer was courteously made, and the consequence was that
+many visits to Stoke afterward took place, and the whole of the
+interesting scenery carefully sketched. He kindly pointed out all that
+was most worthy of attention about the estate and neighborhood, and
+made tender of his company to visit West-End, and show the house which
+Gray, and his mother and aunt had for many years occupied. The
+proprietor he said was Captain Salter, in whose family it had remained
+for a great many generations. Latterly the house has been purchased,
+enlarged, and put into complete repair by Mr. Granville John Penn, the
+present proprietor, nephew of John Penn, Esq., who died in June, 1834.
+After "a hasty" breakfast at Stoke Green, the church-yard was again
+visited, and there was not a grave-stone in it which was not examined
+and read. The error formerly alluded to was immediately detected. The
+passages in the Long Story, describing the mock trial at the "Great
+House," before Lady Cobham, may be worth transcribing.
+
+    Fame, in the shape of Mr. Purt,[3]
+      (By this time all the parish know it,)
+    Had told that thereabouts there lurked
+      A wicked imp they call a poet:
+    Who prowled the country far and near,
+      Bewitched the children of the peasants,
+    Dried up the cows and lamed the deer,
+      And sucked the eggs and killed the pheasants.
+
+              *    *    *    *    *
+
+    The court was sat, the culprit there,
+      Forth from their gloomy mansions creeping,
+    The Lady Janes and Joans repair,
+      And from the gallery stand peeping:
+    Such in the silence of the night
+      Come (sweep) along some winding entry,
+    (Styack has often seen the sight,)
+      Or at the chapel-door stand sentry:
+    In peakèd hoods and mantles tarnished
+      Sour visages enough to scare ye,
+    High dames of honor once who garnished
+      The drawing-room of fierce Queen Mary.
+
+              *    *    *    *    *
+
+    The bard with many an artful fib
+      Had in imagination fenced him,
+    Disproved the arguments of Squib
+      And all that Groom could urge against him.
+
+[Footnote 3: In all editions but that published by Mr. John Sharpe the
+initial _only_ of this name has been given--"Mr. P."--even the Eton
+edition of this year has it so. It seems folly to continue what may
+have been very proper nearly a hundred years ago, when the individual
+was alive; but the Rev. Robert Purt died in April, 1752!]
+
+Finding on the stone alluded to, that it was to the memory of Mrs. Ann
+Tyacke, who died in 1753, it occurred that this was the Styack of the
+poem, where a foot-note in a copy then and there consulted, stated her
+to have been the housekeeper; and on inquiring of Mr. Osborne, he
+confirmed the conjecture. Two other foot-notes state Squib to have
+been _groom_ of the chamber, and that Groom was steward; but finding
+another head-stone (both are represented in the large wood-cut,
+although not exactly in the situations they occupy in the church-yard)
+close to that of Mrs. Tyacke, to the memory of _William_ Groom, who
+died 1751, it appears to offer evidence that Gray mistook the _name_
+of the one for the _office_ of the other. The Eton edition has not a
+single foot-note from beginning to end of the volume. It is dedicated
+to Mr. Granville John Penn, and his "kind assistance _during the
+progress of the work_" acknowledged, both in its illustrations, and in
+the biographical sketch, not withstanding which "assistance," the
+error of the house-keeper's name is continued; and amongst the
+wood-cut illustrations, there is one entitled (both _in_ the list and
+_on_ the cut) "Stoke Church, east end, with tablet to Gray," when, in
+fact, it represents the _tomb-stone_ at the end of the church, under
+which Gray and his mother are interred. The _tablet_ to Gray is quite
+another thing, _that_ was lately inserted in the wall of the church;
+but by some extraordinary blunder it records his death as having taken
+place on the 1st of August, while on the sarcophagus it is stated to
+have occurred on the 30th of July. Neither the one nor the other is
+correct. The Gentleman's Magazine for 1771, and the Annual Register
+for the same year, as well as Mathias' Life, 2 vols. 4to., 1814, all
+concur in giving it as having taken place on the 31st. The Etonian
+edition has it the 30th. After a considerable time spent in the
+church-yard, the hour of public worship drew near, the aged sexton
+appeared, opened the doors, and began to toll the bell--that same
+ancient bell which, century after century, had "rung in" generation
+after generation, and tolled at their funerals. It is difficult to
+realize the feelings excited on entering a sacred edifice of very
+ancient date, particularly if it is in the country, secluded amongst
+aged trees, looking as old as itself; and in walking over the stone
+floor, which, although so seldom trodden, is worn away into something
+like channels; in sitting in the same antique, and curiously carved,
+black oaken pews, which had been sat on by races of men who had
+occupied the same seats hundreds of years long past; but the effect is
+greatly increased on viewing the effigies of the mighty dead, lying on
+their marble beds, in long and low niches in the walls, some with the
+palms of their hands pressed together and pointing upward, as if in
+the act of supplication; and others grasping their swords, and having
+their legs _crossed_, indicating that they had fought _for_ the cross
+in the Holy Land. Such a church, and such objects around, fill the
+mind with true devotion. The sublime words of Milton work out the
+picture to perfection.
+
+    There let the pealing organ blow
+    To the full-voiced quire below,
+    In service high, and anthems clear,
+    As may with sweetness through mine ear
+    Dissolve me into extasies,
+    And bring all heaven before mine eyes.
+
+It was gratifying and affecting to witness the piety, humility, and
+devotion of the congregation as they entered and took their seats in
+silence, long before the venerable clergyman entered the church; there
+was something exceedingly touching in the profound silence that
+reigned throughout the congregation, and induced one to think highly
+of that rule amongst those excellent people, who with great propriety
+are termed Friends. Public worship was attended both in the morning
+and afternoon, and I returned to London, feeling myself a much better
+man than when I left it, with a full determination to revisit a place
+where so much pleasure had been received. It was nearly three months
+before the resolve was carried into effect; but a second excursion was
+made in August, and Mr. Osborne was kind enough to show the house at
+West-End, together with the celebrated Burnham beeches, amongst which
+were several "which wreathed their old fantastic roots so high,"
+evidently the originals alluded to in the Elegy. They are scarcely a
+mile from West-End, and are approached through another of those sweet
+green lanes with which the neighborhood abounds. They are part of the
+original forest. The spot was one of Gray's favorite haunts; and it
+would be difficult to find one better fitted for a lover of nature,
+and a contemplative mind. Late in the autumn an invitation was
+received from Mr. Osborne to spend a day or two with him; but it was
+not until the beginning of November that advantage could be taken of
+it. Arriving at his house late in the afternoon, his servant informed
+me he had been suddenly called away to the Isle of Portland, in
+Dorsetshire, where Mr. Penn was erecting a castle. She also apologized
+for Mrs. Osborne's inability to receive company, in consequence of "a
+particular circumstance," which circumstance she blushingly
+acknowledged was the birth of a fine boy the night before. There was
+no resource, therefore, but to walk down either to Stoke Green, or to
+Salt-Hill, where there are two well-known taverns. Before proceeding,
+however, the church-yard, almost of necessity, must be visited; and
+although in a direct line, it was not far from Mr. Osborne's house, a
+considerable circuit had to be made to get into the inclosure. The
+evening was particularly still--you could have heard a leaf fall; the
+twilight was just setting in, and a haze, or fog, coming on, but the
+spot was soon reached; and whilst kneeling, engaged, like Old
+Mortality, in plucking some weeds and long grass, which had sprung up
+about _the_ tomb since the last visit, a slight sound--a very gentle
+rustle--struck the ear. I supposed it to be the ivy on the
+church-wall, but the next instant it was followed by a movement--something
+very near was certainly approaching. On looking up, it is impossible
+to describe with what mixed feelings of astonishment, apprehension,
+and awe, I beheld coming from a corner of the church-yard, (where
+there was no ingress through the brick wall,) and directly toward the
+spot where I knelt, the figure of a tall, majestic lady, dressed in a
+black velvet pelisse, black velvet hat, surmounted by a plume of black
+ostrich feathers. She was stepping slowly toward me, over the graves.
+It would be useless to deny that fear fixed me to the spot on
+beholding the expression of her very serious face, and her eyes firmly
+fixed on mine.
+
+Appalled by her sudden appearance, it seemed as if she had just risen
+from the grave, dressed in a funeral pall; for I was facing toward
+that corner of the enclosure from which she was coming, and feeling
+certain no human being was there one minute before, I was breathless
+with apprehension, and glad to rest one arm on the tomb-stone until
+she came close up to me.
+
+[Illustration: In the Grave-yard--P. Balmanno]
+
+With a graceful inclination of the head, she addressed me.
+
+"Mr. B----, I believe?"
+
+"Yes, madam, that is my name."
+
+"And you came down to visit Mr. Osborne, who has been called away to
+Portland."
+
+I breathed more freely as I admitted it.
+
+"It happens," she continued, "to be inconvenient for Mrs. Osborne to
+receive you, and as you came by invitation from her husband, if you
+will accept a night's lodging from me, I am enabled to offer it. I am
+Mr. Penn's housekeeper, and none of the family are at home."
+
+Most joyfully was the invitation accepted; my mind was relieved from a
+very unpleasant load of apprehension--but the end was not yet! She
+began to lead the way over the graves, exactly toward the spot from
+whence she had so suddenly and mysteriously appeared; after proceeding
+a few steps, I ventured to say--
+
+"Pray, madam, may I be allowed to inquire where you are leading to? I
+can see no egress in that direction, unless it be into an open grave
+or under a tomb-stone."
+
+"Oh, you will find that out presently," replied the lady, transfixing
+me with a glance of her bright blue eyes, and I thought I could detect
+a rather equivocal expression about the corners of her beautiful
+mouth. This was not very encouraging, and not much liked, but she was
+a woman, and a lovely one, too much so by half to be a Banshee--I was
+on my guard, however, and ready, but the fog became so thick it was
+impossible to see three steps before us; in fact, it rolled over the
+church-yard wall in clouds. The lady linked her arm in mine, to
+prevent herself from stumbling, holding up her dress with the other
+hand, as the long dank grass was wetting it. At last we arrived in the
+very corner of the church-yard, she still keeping a firm hold of my
+arm.
+
+"In Heaven's name, madam, what do you mean by leading me into this
+corner?"
+
+"Oh, you are afraid, I see; but wait a moment."
+
+On saying which, I observed her to take something bright from her
+girdle, which apprehension converted into a stiletto or dirk, and such
+is the force of self-preservation, that I was on the point of tripping
+her up and throwing her on her back. But thrusting the supposed dirk
+against the wall--presto--open sesame--the wall gave way, and she drew
+me through a doorway. This was done so quickly it absolutely seemed
+magic. For an instant I thought of dropping her arm--indeed I should
+have done so, and retreated back through the door, but she held my arm
+tight, and I almost quaked, for I thought she had dragged me into a
+secret vault, the manoeuvre was performed so adroitly. The drifting
+cold fog, however, soon made it plain we were in no vault, but the
+open park. In short, it was a door in the wall, flush with the bricks,
+and painted so exactly like them, it was impossible for a stranger to
+discover it. It was Mr. Penn's private entrance, and saved the family
+a walk of some distance. A narrow green walk, not previously remarked,
+led from the door to the west end of the church.
+
+The housekeeper of a nobleman or gentleman of wealth, in England,
+generally enjoys an enviable situation. Intrusted with much that is
+valuable, she is generally a person of the highest consideration and
+respect, and seldom fails to acquire the elevated manners and refined
+address of her superiors. The lady in question was exactly one of this
+description, well educated, and well read; a magnificent library was
+at her command, and having much time, and what is better, fine taste,
+she had profited by it. Never was an evening passed in greater
+comfort, or with a more agreeable companion. After partaking of that
+most exhilarating of all beverages, the pure hyson, we began to chat
+with almost the same freedom as though we had been long acquainted.
+During a pause in the conversation, after looking in my face a moment,
+she said--
+
+"Will you answer me one question?"
+
+"Most certainly, any thing, you choose to ask."
+
+"But will you answer it honestly and truly?"
+
+"Do not doubt it."
+
+"Well, then, tell me, were you not most horribly afraid when you saw
+me coming toward you in the church-yard?"
+
+"I do frankly confess, madam, I _was horribly_ afraid, and further, I
+firmly believe I should have taken to my heels, had you not been a
+very beautiful woman!"
+
+Before the sentence was well finished her laughter was irrepressible.
+
+"I _knew_ it, I _saw_ it, I _intended_ it," said she, laughing so
+heartily that the tears sprung out of her beautiful eyes, and she was
+obliged to use her handkerchief to wipe them away.
+
+"And do you feel no compunction for scaring a poor fellow half out of
+his wits?"
+
+"None whatever," replied she gayly. "What could you expect when
+prowling amongst the graves in a church-yard so lone and solitary,
+like a goule, on a damp November night? I saw you from Mr. Osborne's
+going toward it, and determined to startle you--and I think I
+succeeded pretty effectually."
+
+"You did, and had very nearly met with your reward, for when in the
+corner of that church-yard you pulled the key from your girdle, fully
+believing you to be the Evil One, I was on the point of strangling
+you."
+
+Much laughter at my expense ensued, for the lady lacked neither wit
+nor humor, and the evening flew faster than desired. On retiring, a
+man servant conducted me to an apartment on the upper floor of the
+mansion, and sleep soon came and soon went, for an innumerable number
+of rats and mice were careering all over the bed! and I felt them
+sniffing about my nose and mouth; I sprang bolt upright, striking
+right and left like a madman. This sent them pattering all about the
+room, and dreading that I might find myself minus a nose or an ear
+before morning, I groped all around the room for a bell, but could
+find none; proceeding into the corridor and standing on tip-toe,
+bell-wires were soon found, and soon set a ringing; watching at the
+top of the very long staircase, a light was at last seen ascending,
+borne in the hand of a very fat man, who proved to be the butler; he
+had nothing on but his shirt, and a huge pair of red plush, which
+enveloped his nether bulk. Puffing with the exertion of ascending so
+many stairs, he at last saw me, still more lightly clothed than
+himself, and inquired what I wanted?
+
+"Have you got a cat about the house?"
+
+"No, sir, we have no cats, they destroy the young pheasants."
+
+"A dog, then?"
+
+"No dog, sir, on account of the deer."
+
+"Then tell the housekeeper there are ten thousand rats and twenty
+thousand mice in the room I occupy!"
+
+As he descended the stair he was heard mumbling,
+"cats!"--"dogs!"--"rats!"--"mice!" and chuckling ready to burst his
+fat sides.
+
+After long waiting, the reflection of light on his red plush smalls
+(_greats_ would better describe them) flashed up like a streak of
+lightning, and puffing harder than before, told me if I would follow
+him down stairs, he had orders to show me to another room.
+
+Gathering up the articles of my dress over my arm, we descended, and I
+was shown into a room of almost regal splendor. The lofty bedstead had
+a canopy, terminating in a gilded coronet, and the ample hangings were
+of rich Venetian crimson velvet, trimmed and festooned "about, around
+and underneath." The ascent to this unusually lofty bed was by a
+flight of superb steps, covered with rich embossed velvet. Out of the
+royal palaces I had never seen such a bed.
+
+In consequence of having stood so long undressed on the marble floor
+at the top of the stairs, shivering with cold, the magnificent bed, on
+getting into it, was found comfortable beyond expression. It felt as
+if it would never cease yielding under the pressure; it sunk down,
+down, down--there appeared no stop to its declension; and then its
+delicious warmth--what a luxury to a shivering man! Hugging myself
+under the idea of a glorious night's rest, and composing myself in the
+easiest possible position, it was more desirable to lay awake in such
+full enjoyment, than to sleep--sleep had lost all its charms. I was in
+the bed of beds--the celestial!
+
+After thus laying about twenty minutes, enjoying perfect bliss, a
+sensation of some uneasiness began slowly to manifest itself, which
+induced a change of position; but the change did not relieve the
+uncomfortable feeling. It would be difficult to describe it, but it
+increased every moment, until at last it seemed as if the points of a
+hundred thousand fine needles were puncturing every pore. This was
+borne with great resignation and equanimity for some time, expecting
+it would go off; but the stinging sensation increased, and finally
+became intolerable; the celestial bed became one of infernal torture.
+I tossed, and dashed, and threw about my limbs in all directions, and
+almost bellowed like a mad bull.
+
+What to do to relieve the torment I knew not. To ask for another bed
+was out of the question, and to attempt to sleep on thorns--thorns!
+they would have been thought a luxury to this of lying enduring the
+pains of the doomed. After long endurance of the pain, and in racking
+my brains considering what was best to be done, the intolerable
+sensations began by degrees to subside and grow less and less; but the
+heat, although nearly insupportable, was more easily endured. That
+horrible night was a long one--and long will it be before it is
+forgotten.
+
+Coming down in the morning, expecting to find the lady all smiles and
+graces, I was surprised and hurt to find she received me rather
+coldly, and with averted head; but when she could no longer avoid
+turning round, never, in the whole course of my life, was I more
+astonished at the change she had undergone. It was a total, a radical
+change--she was hardly to be recognized--and it was scarcely possible
+to believe she was the lovely woman of the last night. Not that her
+splendid figure was altered--in fact, an elegant morning-dress rather
+tended to improve and set-off her full and almost voluptuous contour,
+and her soft, sweet voice was equally musical; but her face--the
+charms of her lovely face were vanished and gone!
+
+Every one will admit that the nose is a most important, nay, a very
+prominent feature in female beauty. It is indispensible that a belle
+should have a beautiful nose; in fact, it is a question whether a
+woman without an eye would not be preferable to one with--but I
+anticipate.
+
+"I see your surprise, sir," said she, with evident chagrin, "but it is
+all owing to you."
+
+"To _me_, madam! I presume you allude to the altered appearance of
+your face, but I cannot conceive what I can have had to do with the
+change."
+
+In brief, her beautiful nose was all over as red as scarlet,
+particularly the point of it, which exactly resembled a large red
+cherry, or ripe Siberian crab-apple. Now just think of it--a very fair
+woman with a blood-red nose! Faugh! it is enough to sicken the most
+devoted admirer of the sex. Suppose any gentleman going to be married,
+and full of love and admiration, should, on going to the house of his
+beloved bride on the appointed morning, to take her to church, humming
+to himself that sweet song, "She Wove a Wreath of Roses," finds her
+beautiful nose become a big rosy nosegay--would he not be apt to
+suppose she had over night been making pretty free sacrifices, not to
+the little god of love, but to jolly Bacchus? I did not do _my_ belle
+such an injustice--and yet what could I think?
+
+"How do you make out that I had any thing to do with such an important
+alteration, madam."
+
+"O, as easy as it is true. Did not your wo-begone terrors in the
+church-yard throw me into immoderate fits of laughter, as you well
+know? And did not your adventures, after you retired, when reported to
+me, throw me all but into convulsions--the more I thought, the more I
+laughed, until it brought on a nervous headache so intense, it felt as
+if my head would have split? To relieve so distressing a pain, I took
+a bottle of eau de cologne to bed with me, and pulling out the
+stopper, propped it up by the pillow, right under my nose. I quite
+forgot it, and fell asleep with the bottle in that position."
+
+"Ah!" said I, "I suspected _the bottle_ had something to do with it."
+
+"Quite true, quite true--but not the bottle you wickedly insinuate.
+How long I slept I know not, it must have been a long time; when I
+awoke, I was surprised to find my shoulder cold and wet--and then I
+recollected the bottle of cologne; but what was my horror, on getting
+up, to behold my face in this frightful condition, you may easily
+imagine."
+
+Poor, dear lady, if she laughed heartily at the scare she gave me in
+the church-yard, I now had my revenge, full and ample--for I could not
+refrain from laughing outright every time I looked in her face; and
+laughter, when it is hearty and hilarious, is catching, almost as much
+as yawning; and I fancy few will dispute how potent, how Mesmeric, or
+magnetic the effect of an outstretched arm and wide gaping oscitation
+is. I declare, I caught myself gaping the other night on seeing my
+wife's white cat stretch herself on the rug, and yawn.
+
+"I really should feel obliged if you would be polite enough to keep
+your eye off my face," said the lady.
+
+Now it need hardly be remarked, that when any thing is the matter with
+a person's face, be it a wall-eye, a squint, a cancer, very bad teeth,
+or any such disfigurement or malady, it is impossible to look at any
+other spot--it is sure to fix your gaze, you can look at no other
+part; you cannot keep your eye off it, unless you are more generous,
+or better bred than most men.
+
+"I really should feel obliged if you would be polite enough to keep
+your eye off my nose; it puts me out of countenance," said the fair
+one. She said this half earnest, half jest; and I obliged her, by
+directing my looks to her taper fingers and white hands--and the
+conversation proceeded with the breakfast.
+
+"May I inquire how you rested, after your escape from the ten thousand
+rats, and twenty thousand mice, which attacked you before you changed
+your room?"
+
+"Do you ask the question seriously?"
+
+"Certainly I do."
+
+"Why, then, to use a homely but a very expressive phrase, it was out
+of the frying-pan into the fire."
+
+"Mercy on us! how can that be; you had what is considered the best bed
+in the house."
+
+"O, I dare say--no doubt, the softest I ever lay in; but instead of
+ten thousand rats, and twenty thousand mice, I had not been in it
+fifteen minutes ere a hundred and twenty thousand hornets, wasps,
+scorpions, and centipedes, two or three thousand hedge-hogs, and as
+many porcupines, seemed to be full drive at me; and had I not soon
+been relieved by perspiration, I should assuredly have gone mad, and
+been in bedlam. Nervous headache! Why, madam, it would have been
+considered paradise, compared with the purgatory you inflicted on me."
+
+Her eyes sparkled with glee--and she began to laugh joyously; but soon
+checking herself, and assuming a sort of mock sympathy, said,
+
+"I am very sorry--_very_ sorry, indeed, that you should have found
+your bed so like the love of some men, rather hot to hold."
+
+On inquiring whether the grand coroneted bed, which had been as a hot
+gridiron to me, was intended for any particular person, she informed
+me it was for a Russian nobleman, Baron Nicholay, a much respected
+friend of Mr. Penn's, who sometimes visited Stoke, and who, being used
+to a bed of down in the cold climate of his own country, Mr. Penn,
+with his characteristic kindness and attention, had it prepared for
+the baron's especial comfort. She added that the reason why Mr. Penn
+had all his life remained a bachelor, was in consequence of an early
+attachment which he had formed for the baron's sister; that they were
+to have been married, but in driving the lady in a _drouschky_, or
+sledge, on the ice of the Neva, at St. Petersburg, by some fatality
+the ice gave way, and notwithstanding the most strenuous exertions of
+her lover, and the servant who stood behind the sled, the lady, by the
+force of the current, was swept away under the ice, and never
+afterward seen. That this shocking accident had such effect on Mr.
+Penn's mind, as well it might, he never could think of any other
+woman, but remained true and constant to his first love, mourning her
+tragic end all his life.
+
+This was exactly the case with that most amiable and gifted man, the
+late Sir Thomas Lawrence, who being engaged and about to be married to
+a daughter of the celebrated Mrs. Siddons, the young lady was suddenly
+snatched from him by a rapid consumption; and Sir Thomas remained
+faithful to her beloved memory, wearing mourning during his life, and
+ever after used black wax in sealing his letters, as the writer can
+prove by many, many received from him during a series of years until
+his lamented death.
+
+On asking my intelligent companion if she knew any particulars
+respecting Gray, she replied she did know a great deal regarding him;
+that Mr. Penn idolized his memory, and had made collections respecting
+him and the personages mentioned in the Long Story. At my pressing
+solicitation she was good enough to say she would write out all the
+particulars--a promise which she faithfully kept; and they may
+hereafter appear in some shape.
+
+The morning proving foggy and damp, the time (instead of going to
+church) was passed in the library--a magnificent room, nearly two
+hundred feet long, extending the whole length of the building, and
+filled with books from floor to ceiling.
+
+In one of the principal rooms, mounted upon a pedestal, there is a
+large piece of the identical tree under the shade of which Mr. Penn's
+celebrated ancestor, William, signed his treaty with the Indians,
+constituting him Lord Proprietary of what was afterward, and what will
+ever be, Pennsylvania. The piece of wood is part of a large limb,
+about five feet long. The tree was blown down in 1812, and the portion
+in question was transmitted by Dr. Rush to Mr. Penn, who had it
+varnished in its original state, and a brass plate affixed to it, with
+an inscription.
+
+The sun broke through the fog about twelve o'clock, and had as
+cheering an effect on the landscape, as it almost invariably has on
+the mind. In the afternoon, after a most delightful day spent with the
+fair housekeeper, it became time to think of returning to London, and
+as the distance would be much lessened by proceeding through Mr.
+Penn's grounds, and going down to Salt-Hill instead of Slough, the
+lady offered to accompany me to the extent of the shrubberies, and
+point out the way. These enchanting shrubberies are adorned with busts
+of the Roman and English poets, placed on antique terms, along the
+well-kept, smooth gravel-walks, which wind about in many a serpentine
+direction through the grounds. There are appropriate quotations from
+the works of the different bards, placed on the front of each
+terminus. The bust of Gray, is placed under an ancient wide-spreading
+oak, with this inscription:
+
+    Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
+    A broader, browner shade;
+    Where'er the rude moss-grown beech
+    O'er canopies the glade,
+    With me the muse shall sit and think,
+    At ease reclined in rustic state.
+
+There is an elegant small building, inscribed "The Temple of Fancy,"
+in which a bust of the immortal Shakspeare is the only ornament. It is
+on a small knoll, commanding an extensive prospect through the trees,
+which are opened like a fan. Windsor Castle terminates this lovely
+view. Within the temple there is a long inscription from the Merry
+Wives of Windsor, Act 5, sc. 5, beginning thus,
+
+    Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out;
+    Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room;
+    That it may stand till the perpetual doom,
+    In state as wholesome, as in state 'tis fit,
+    Worthy the owner, and the owner it.
+
+The grounds, laid out with so much fine taste, terminate in a lovely
+little dell, sheltered on every side. In the centre there is a circle
+bordered with box, and growing within it, a collection of all the
+known varieties of heath. The plants were then in full flower, and
+innumerable honey-bees were feeding and buzzing. To one who, in early
+life, had been accustomed to tread the heath-covered hills of
+Scotland, the unexpected sight of these blooming plants of the
+mountain was a treat; and the effect was heightened on seeing the bust
+of Scotia's most admired bard, Thomson, adorning it. The inscription
+was from that sublime, almost divine hymn, with which the Seasons
+conclude, and eminently well applied to the heath, as some one or
+other of the varieties blossom nearly all the year through.
+
+   These, as they change, Almighty Father, these,
+   Are but the varied God. The rolling year
+   Is full of thee.
+
+In that secluded dell I bade a sorrowful and unwilling adieu to the
+lady who had shown such extraordinary politeness. It may be worth the
+while to mention that she was soon after married, much against the
+wish of Mr. Penn, who had a great aversion to any changes in his
+establishment; for a kinder, a better, a more pious, or more
+accomplished gentleman than the late John Penn, of Stoke Park, England
+could not boast.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+In consequence of the extraordinary prices lately paid for the
+autograph copies of Gray's poems, more particularly that of the Elegy,
+it has been thought it would be acceptable to the readers of the
+Magazine to be presented with a _fac simile_. The following have
+therefore been traced, and engraved with great care and accuracy, from
+the first and last stanzas of the Elegy, and the signature from a
+letter. These will give an exact idea of the peculiarly neat and
+elegant handwriting of the Poet of Stoke.
+
+[Illustration: handwritten poem by Gray
+
+The Curfew tolls the Knell of parting Day,
+The lowing Herd wind slowly o'er the Lea,
+The Plowman homeward plods his weary Way,
+And leaves the World to Darkness & to me.
+
+    No farther seek his merits to disclose,
+Or draw his Frailties from their dread Abode,
+(There they alike in trembling Hope repose)
+The Bosom of his Father, & his God.
+
+    Your humble Serv^t      T. Gray]
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+
+
+
+THE SAW-MILL.
+
+FROM THE GERMAN OF KORNER.
+
+BY WILLIAM C. BRYANT.
+
+
+    In yonder mill I rested,
+      And sat me down to look
+    Upon the wheel's quick glimmer.
+      And on the flowing brook.
+
+    As in a dream, before me,
+      The saw, with restless play,
+    Was cleaving through a fir-tree
+      Its long and steady way.
+
+    The tree through all its fibres
+      With living motion stirred,
+    And, in a dirge-like murmur,
+      These solemn words I heard--
+
+    Oh, thou, who wanderest hither,
+      A timely guest thou art!
+    For thee this cruel engine
+      Is passing through my heart.
+
+    When soon, in earth's still bosom,
+      Thy hours of rest begin,
+    This wood shall form the chamber
+      Whose walls shall close thee in.
+
+    Four planks--I saw and shuddered--
+      Dropped in that busy mill;
+    Then, as I tried to answer,
+      At once the wheel was still.
+
+
+
+
+EFFIE MORRIS.
+
+OR LOVE AND PRIDE.
+
+BY ENNA DUVAL.
+
+    So changes mortal Life with fleeting years;
+      A mournful change, should Reason fail to bring
+    The timely insight that can temper fears,
+      And from vicissitude remove its sting;
+    While Faith aspires to seats in that domain
+    Where joys are perfect--neither wax nor wane. WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+It was a warm, cloudy, sultry summer morning--scarcely a breath of air
+stirred the clematis and woodbine blossoms that peeped in and
+clustered around the breakfast-room window, greeting us with fresh
+fragrance; but on this morning no pleasant air breathed sighingly over
+them, and they looked drooping and faded. I was visiting my friend
+Effie Morris, who resided in a pleasant country village, some twenty
+or thirty miles from my city home. We were both young, and had been
+school-girl friends from early childhood. The preceding winter had
+been our closing session at school, and we were about entering our
+little world as women. Effie was an only daughter of a widowed mother.
+Possessing comfortable means, they lived most pleasantly in their
+quiet romantic little village. Effie had stayed with me during the
+winters of her school-days, while I had always returned the compliment
+by spending the summer months at her pleasant home. Her mother was
+lovely both in mind and disposition, and though she had suffered much
+from affliction, she still retained youthful and sympathizing
+feelings. Effie was gentle and beautiful, and the most innocent,
+unsophisticated little enthusiast that ever breathed. She had arrived
+at the age of seventeen, and to my certain knowledge had never felt
+the first heart-throb; never had been in love. In vain had we attended
+the dancing-school balls, and little parties. A host of boy-lovers
+surrounded the little set to which we belonged, and yet Effie remained
+entirely heart-whole. She never flirted, never sentimentalized with
+gentlemen, and she was called cold and matter-of-fact, by those who
+judged her alone by her manner; but one glance in her soft, dove-like
+eyes, it seems to me, should have set them a doubting. I have seen
+those expressive eyes well up with tears when together we would read
+some old story or poem--
+
+    "Two shall be named preeminently dear--
+    The gentle Lady married to the Moor,
+    And heavenly Una with her milk-white Lamb"--
+
+or leaning from our bed-room window, at midnight, we would gaze on the
+silvery moon in the heavens, listening to the rippling notes of the
+water-spirits that to our fancy inhabited the sparkling stream that
+ran near the house. How beautifully would she improvise at times--for
+improvisations in truth were they, while she was quite unconscious of
+her gift. She never wrote a line of poetry, but when in such moods,
+every word she uttered was true, pure poetry. She had a most
+remarkable memory, and seemed never to forget a line she read. To me
+she would repeat page after page of our favorite authors, when we
+would be wandering through the woods, our arms entwined around each
+other.
+
+Effie Morris was an enthusiastic dreamer, and entertained certain
+little romantic exaggerated opinions, out of which it was impossible
+to argue her--sometimes her actions ran contrary to these opinions,
+and we would fancy that surely now she would admit the fallacy of her
+arguments in favor of them; but when taxed with it, she would in the
+most earnest, sincere manner defend her original position, proving to
+us that no matter how her actions appeared to others, they were in her
+own mind entirely in keeping with these first expressed opinions,
+which to us seemed entirely at variance. But she was so gentle in
+argument, and proved so plainly that though her reasoning might be
+false, her thoughts were so beautiful and pure, as to make us feel
+perfectly willing to pardon her obstinacy.
+
+On the morning I speak of, we lounged languidly over the
+breakfast-table, not caring to taste of the tempting crisp rolls, or
+drink of the fragrant Mocha juice, the delicious fumes of which rose
+up from the delicate China cups all unheeded by us. At first we talked
+listlessly of various things, wandering from subject to subject, and
+at last, to our surprise, we found ourselves engaged in a sprightly,
+animated argument; each forgetting the close atmosphere that seemed at
+first to weigh down all vivacity. The subject of this argument was the
+possibility of pride overcoming love in a woman's heart. Mrs. Morris
+and I contended that love weakened or quite died out if the object
+proved unworthy or indifferent. Our romantic Effie of course took the
+opposite side. True love to her mind was unalterable. Falsehood,
+deceit, change--no matter what sorrow, she said, might afflict the
+pure loving heart--its love would still remain. "I cannot," she
+exclaimed enthusiastically, "imagine for an instant that true, genuine
+love should--could have any affinity with pride. When I see a woman
+giving evidence of what is called high spirit in love matters, I
+straightway lose all sympathy for her heart-troubles. I say to
+myself--she has never truly loved."
+
+We argued, but in vain; at length her mother laughingly cried
+out--"Nonsense, Effie, no one would sooner resent neglect from a
+lover than yourself. True love, as you call it, would never make such
+a spiritless, meek creature out of the material of which you are
+composed."
+
+"Yes, in truth," I added, as I saw our pretty enthusiast, half vexed,
+shake her head obstinately at her mother's prophecy--"I can see those
+soft eyes of yours, Effie, darling, flash most eloquent fire, should
+your true love meet with unworthiness."
+
+During our conversation the clouds had broken, the wind changed, and a
+delicious breeze came sweeping in at the windows as if to cool our
+cheeks, flushed with the playful argument.
+
+"Will you ride or walk this morning, girls?" asked Mrs. Morris, as we
+arose from the breakfast-table.
+
+"Oh, let us take our books, guitar and work up the mill-stream to the
+old oak, dear mamma," exclaimed Effie, "and spend an hour or two
+there."
+
+"But it will be mid-day when we return," replied her mother.
+
+"That's true," said Effie, laughing, "but Leven can drive up to the
+old broken bridge for us at mid-day."
+
+"To be sure he can," said Mrs. Morris, and accordingly we sallied
+forth, laden with books and netting, while a servant trudged on ahead,
+with camp-stools and guitar. Nothing eventful occurred on that
+particular morning, and yet though years have passed since then, I
+never recall the undulating scenery of the narrow, dark, winding
+mill-stream of Stamford, but it presents itself to my mind's eye as it
+looked on that morning. In my waking or sleeping dreams, I see the old
+oak at the morning hours, and whenever the happy moments I have spent
+at Effie Morris' country home come to my memory, this morning is
+always the brightest, most vivid picture presented before me by my
+fancy. As Hans Christian Andersen says with such poetic eloquence in
+his Improvisatore--"It was one of those moments which occur but once
+in a person's life, which, without signalizing itself by any great
+life-adventure, yet stamps itself in its whole coloring upon the
+Psyche wings."
+
+We walked slowly along the narrow bank--tall trees towered around us,
+whose waving branches, together with the floating clouds, were
+mirrored with exquisite distinctness on the bosom of the dark, deep,
+narrow stream--near at shore lay the dreaming, luxurious water-lilies,
+and a thousand beautiful blossoms bent over the bank, and kissed
+playfully the passing waters, or coquetted with the inconstant breeze.
+Our favorite resting-place was about a mile's walk up the beautiful
+stream, and to reach it we had to cross to the opposite shore, over a
+rude, half-ruined bridge, which added to the picturesque beauty of the
+scenery. The oak was a century old tree, and stood upon rising ground
+a short distance from the shore. How calmly and happily passed that
+morning. Effie sang wild ballads for us, and her rich full notes were
+echoed from the distance by the spirit voices of the hills. We wove
+garlands of water-lilies and wild flowers, and when I said we were
+making Ophelias of ourselves, Effie, with shy earnestness most
+bewitching, unloosened her beautiful hair, twining the long locks, and
+banding her temples with the water-lily garlands and long grass--then
+wrapping an India muslin mantle around her shoulders, she gathered up
+the ends on her arms, filling them with sprigs of wild blossoms, and
+acted poor Ophelia's mad scene most touchingly. Tears gathered in our
+eyes as she concluded the wild, wailing melody
+
+   "And will he not come again,
+    And will he not come again,
+        No, no, he is dead,
+        Go to thy death-bed,
+    He never will come again.
+
+   "His beard was as white as snow,
+    All flaxen was his poll--
+        He is gone, he is gone,
+        And we cast away moan--
+    God a mercy on his soul."
+
+There was a deep, touching pathos in her voice as she uttered the
+minor notes of this song, and her soft eyes beamed half vacantly, half
+reverently, as looking up to heaven she uttered in low breathing
+tones--
+
+    "And of all Christian souls! I pray God!"
+
+Then suddenly arousing herself, she looked toward us and murmured, as
+she turned away with a sad, tearful smile, "God be wi' you." The
+illusion was perfect, and we both sobbed outright.
+
+Effie Morris was one of the few true geniuses I have known in my life
+time; and when I have said this to those who only met with her in
+society, they have laughed and wondered what genius there could be in
+my cold, quiet friend.
+
+The following winter Effie entered society. Her mother had many gay
+and fashionable friends in the principal northern cities, and during
+the winter season her letters to me were dated at one time from
+Washington, then again from some other gay city; and in this free from
+care pleasant manner did her days pass. Household duties kept me,
+though a young girl, close at home. Possibly if Effie had been thrown
+into the active domestic sphere which was my mission, her history
+might have been different. She certainly would have been less of a
+dreamer. Exquisite waking dreams, woven of the shining fairy threads
+of fancy, meet with but poor encouragement in every-day life, and take
+flight sometimes never to return, when one is rudely awakened from
+them in order to attend to "the baked and the broiled." I remember,
+when a girl, feeling at times a little restive under the duties
+unavoidably imposed upon me, and often would indulge in a morbid
+sentimental humor, dreaming over some "rare old poet" or blessed
+romance, to the exceeding great detriment of my household affairs,
+making my poor father sigh over a tough, badly cooked stake, and
+cheerless, dusty house; but these moods, to my credit be it told, were
+of rare occurrence; and I say now the best school for a dreaming,
+enthusiastic girl, who sighs for the realization of her fancy visions,
+is to place her in charge of some active duty--to make her feel it is
+exacted from her--that she must see it performed. I mean not that a
+delicate intellectual spirit should be borne to the earth disheartened
+with care and hard labor--but a share of domestic cares, domestic
+duties, is both wholesome and necessary for a woman. Cultivate if
+possible in a girl a taste for reading and study first, then she will
+soon find time for intellectual pursuits, which, from being in a
+measure denied to her, will become dearer. In her attempts to secure
+moments for the indulgence of her mental desires she will
+unconsciously learn order, management and economy of time and labor,
+thus will her mind be strengthened. But I am digressing, dear reader.
+I am sadly talkative on this subject, and sometimes fancy I could
+educate a girl most famously; and when "thinking aloud" of the perfect
+woman my theory would certainly complete, I am often pitched rudely
+from my self-satisfied position, by some married friend saying, in a
+half vexed, impatient tone--"Ah, yes, this is all very fine in
+theory--no doubt you would be successful--we all know the homely
+adage--'old bachelors' wives and old maids' children,' &c."
+
+Effie was not what is called a belle in society. She was too cold and
+spiritual. Her beauty was too delicate to make an impression in the
+gay ball-room; and she cared little for what both men and women in the
+world pine after--popularity. She danced and talked only with those
+who pleased her, and sometimes not at all if it did not suit her
+fancy. There was a great contrast between her mother and herself. Mrs.
+Morris, though "forty rising," was still a fine-looking, _distingué_
+woman; and on her re-entrance into society with her daughter, she
+produced a greater impression than did Effie. She had a merry, joyous
+disposition, and without possessing half the mental superiority her
+daughter was gifted with, she had a light, easy conversational
+ability, playful repartee, an elegant style and manner, and a
+sufficient knowledge of accomplishments to produce an effect in the
+gay world, and make her the centre of attraction of every circle she
+entered; and the world wondered so brilliant a mother should have so
+indifferent a daughter. She doted on Effie; and, I am sure, loved her
+all the more for her calm, quiet way. She often said to me, "Effie is
+very superior to the women one meets with--she has a pure, elevated
+spirit. So delicate a nature as hers is not properly appreciated in
+this world."
+
+One summer there came a wooing of Effie a most excellent gentleman. He
+had met with her the preceding winter in some gay circle, and had
+discernment enough to discover the merits of our jewel. How anxiously
+Mrs. Morris and I watched the wooing--for we were both anxious for Mr.
+Grayson's success. He was in every way worthy of her--high-minded,
+honorable, and well to do in the world--some years her senior, but
+handsome and elegant in appearance. He must have had doubts of his
+success, for he let the live-long summer pass ere he ventured on his
+love speech. We were a pleasant party--Mrs. Morris, Effie, myself, Mr.
+Grayson, and Lucien Decker, a cousin of Mrs. Morris--a college youth,
+who only recently had become one of the family. Lucien Decker's family
+lived in a distant state, and only until he came to a northern college
+to finish his studies had he known his pleasant relatives. He was a
+bright, interesting, graceful youth, and wondrous clever, we thought.
+We would spend morning after morning wandering up the mill-stream,
+resting under the old oak, where Mr. Grayson would discourse most
+pleasantly, or read aloud to us; and sometimes, after Effie and I had
+chanted simple melodies, we would prevail on Lucien to recite some of
+his own poetry, at which he was, indeed, most clever--he recited well,
+and wrote very delicately and beautifully. At last Mr. Grayson
+ventured on a proposal; but, to our sorrow, he met with a calm, gentle
+refusal; and to relieve his disappointment, he sailed in the fall for
+Europe.
+
+Not long after his departure, to our surprise, Effie and Lucien
+announced themselves as lovers. No objection, surely, could be made;
+but such a thing had never entered our minds. Though of the same age
+with Effie and myself, he had always seemed as a boy in comparison to
+us, and I had always treated him with the playful familiarity of a
+youth. He was more intelligent and interesting than young men of his
+age generally are; indeed he gave promise of talent--and he was
+likewise good-looking; but, in truth, when we compared him with the
+elegant and finished Mr. Grayson, we felt a wee bit out of patience;
+and if we did not give utterance aloud to our thoughts, I shrewdly
+suspect if those thoughts had formed themselves into words, those
+words would have sounded very much like, "Nonsensical sentimentality!"
+"strange infatuation!" but nothing could be said with propriety, and
+the engagement was fully entered into. Some time had necessarily to
+elapse before its fulfillment, however, for the lover was but twenty;
+but it was well understood, that when he had finished his studies, and
+was settled in his profession, he was to wed our darling Effie. After
+the acceptance of his suit, Lucien seemed perfectly happy, and, I must
+confess, made himself particularly interesting. He walked and read
+with us, and wrote such beautiful poetry in honor of Effie's charms,
+that we were at last quite propitiated. He was, indeed, an ardent
+lover; and his enthusiastic, earnest wooing, was very different from
+Mr. Grayson's calm, dignified manner. He caused our quiet Effie a deal
+of entertainment, however; for when he was an acknowledged lover, like
+all such ardent dispositions, he showed himself to be an exacting one.
+Her calm, cold manner would set him frantic at times; and he would vow
+she could not love him; but these lovers' quarrels instead of wearying
+Effie, seemed to produce a contrary effect.
+
+They had been engaged a year or so, when one summer a belle of the
+first water made her appearance in the village-circle of Stamford.
+Kate Barclay was her name. She was a Southerner, and a reputed
+heiress. She had come rusticating, she said; and shrugging her pretty
+shoulders, she would declare in a bewitching, languid tone, "truly a
+face and figure needed rest after a brilliant winter campaign." Old
+Mrs. Barclay, a dear, nice old lady in the village, was her aunt; and
+as we were the only young ladies of a companionable age, Kate was, of
+course, a great deal with us. She was, indeed, a delicious looking
+creature. She had large, melting dark eyes, and rich curling masses of
+hair, that fell in clusters over her neck and shoulders, giving her a
+most romantic appearance. She understood fully all the little arts and
+wiles of a belle; and she succeeded in securing admiration.
+Superficial she was, but showy; and could put on at will all moods,
+from the proud and dignified, to the bewitching and childlike. We had
+no gentlemen visiters with us when she first came, not even Lucien;
+for some engagement had taken him from Effie for a week or two, and
+our pretty southern damsel almost expired with _ennui_. When we first
+met with her, she talked so beautifully of the delights of a quiet
+country life, seemed so enchanted with every thing and every body, and
+so eloquent in praise of rambles in the forest, sunsets, moonlights,
+rushing streamlets, &c., &c., that we decided she was an angel
+forthwith. But one or two ramblings quite finished her--for she
+complained terribly of dust, sun, and fatigue; moreover, we quite
+neglected to notice or admire her picturesque rambling dress, which
+inadvertency provoked her into telling us that the gentlemen at
+Ballston, or some other fashionable watering-place, had declared she
+looked in it quite like Robin Hood's maid Marian. The gorgeous summer
+sunsets and clear moonlight nights, soon wearied her--for we were too
+much occupied with the beauties of nature to notice her fine
+attitudes, or beautiful eyes cast up imploringly to heaven, while she
+recited, in a half theatrical manner, passages of poetry descriptive
+of her imaginary feelings. I suspected she was meditating a flitting,
+when one day Lucien, and two of his student friends, made their
+appearance amongst us. How quickly her mood changed; the listless,
+yawning, dissatisfied manner disappeared, and we heard her the first
+night of their arrival delighting them, as she had us, with her
+fascinating ecstasies over rural enjoyments. She sentimentalized,
+flirted, romped, laughed, dressed in a picturesque manner, and "was
+every thing by turns, but nothing long," evidently bent upon bringing
+to her feet the three gentlemen. Lucien's friends soon struck their
+flags, and were her humble cavaliers--but a right tyrannical mistress
+she proved to them, making them scowl, and say sharp things to each
+other in a most ferocious manner, very amusing to us; but Lucien was
+impregnable. She played off all her arts in vain, he seemed
+unconscious, and devoted himself entirely to Effie. At first she was
+so occupied with securing the two other prizes she overlooked his
+delinquency, but when certain of them, she was piqued into
+accomplishing a conquest of him likewise. I did not think she would be
+successful, and amused myself by quietly watching her manoeuvres.
+
+One bright moonlight evening the gentlemen rowed us up the
+mill-stream, and as we returned we landed at our favorite oak. The
+waters, swelled by recent rains, came dashing and tumbling along in
+mimic billows; the moon beamed down a heavenly radiance, and as the
+little wavelets broke against the shore, they glittered like molten
+silver, covering the wild blossoms with dazzling fairy gems. Kate's
+two lovers were talking and walking with Mrs. Morris and Effie along
+the shore. Lucien, Kate, and I, remained on a little bank that rose
+abruptly from the water. She did, indeed, look most bewitchingly
+beautiful; her soft, white dress, bound at the waist by a flowing
+ribbon, floated in graceful folds around her; her lovely neck,
+shoulders and arms, were quite uncovered, and her rich, dark hair fell
+in loose, long curls, making picturesque shadows in the moonlight. She
+could act the inspired enthusiast to perfection; and what our Effie
+really was, she could affect most admirably. She seemed unconscious of
+our presence; indeed, I do not think she thought I was near her, and,
+as if involuntarily, she burst out into one of her affected
+rhapsodies, her eyes beamed brightly, and she expressed her feelings
+most rapturously, concluding with repeating, in low, earnest, half
+trembling tones, some lines of Lucien's she had taken from my Scrap
+Book, descriptive of the very scene before her, written the preceding
+summer for Effie, after a moonlight ramble together. The poetry was
+quite impassioned; and I heard Kate murmur with a sigh, as she turned
+away after concluding her quotation, as if sick at heart, "Ah! I would
+give years of brilliant success for one hour of devotion from such a
+lover."
+
+No one heard her but Lucien and myself--and I was one listener more
+than she would have desired; for Lucien's ear alone was the
+ejaculation intended, the good for nothing little flirt. It produced
+the intended effect, for I saw Lucien watching her with admiring
+interest. She noted the impression, and cunningly kept it up. There
+was such a contrast between Effie and Kate, rather to Effie's
+disadvantage, I had to confess, and Kate's affected expressions of
+intense feeling, rather served to heighten Effie's natural coldness of
+manner. Why waste words--the conclusion is already divined. The
+coquette succeeded--and ere a week had passed Lucien was her
+infatuated, devoted admirer; Effie was quite forgotten. Lucien's two
+friends, wretched, and completely maddened by the cool, contemptuous
+rejections they received from Kate, left Stamford, vowing eternal
+hatred for womankind, and uttering deep, dire denunciations against
+all coquettes, leaving the field open to Lucien, who seemed to have
+perfectly lost all sense of propriety in his infatuation. Effie looked
+on as calmly and quietly as though she were not particularly
+interested. I fancied, for the credit of romance and sentiment, that
+her cheek was paler; and I thought I could detect at times a trembling
+of her delicate lips--but she said not a word. Mrs. Morris and I
+displayed much more feeling; but what could we do--and half amused,
+half vexed, we watched the conduct of the naughty little flirt.
+Suddenly Kate received a summons home--and right glad I was to hear of
+it. She announced it to us one evening, saying she expected her father
+the next day. The following afternoon she came over to our cottage,
+accompanied with two middle-aged gentlemen. The elder of the two was
+Mr. Barclay, her father, who had known Mrs. Morris in early life; the
+other she introduced as Col. Paulding, a friend. Col. Paulding's
+manner struck us with surprise. He called her "Kate;" and though
+dignified, was affectionate. She seemed painfully embarrassed, and
+anxious to terminate the visit. She answered our questions hurriedly,
+and appeared ill at ease. Lucien was not present, fortunately for her;
+and I fancied she watched the door, as if anxiously fearing his
+entrance; certain it was she started nervously at every distant sound.
+
+"Will you revisit Stamford next summer, Miss Barclay?" I asked.
+
+Kate replied that she was uncertain at present.
+
+"I suppose Kate has not told you," said her father, laughingly, "that
+long before another summer she will cease to be mistress of her own
+movements. She expects to be in Germany next summer, I believe, with
+her husband," and he looked significantly at Col. Paulding, who was
+standing out on the lawn with Mrs. Morris, admiring the beautiful
+view, quite out of hearing distance. Effie was just stepping from the
+French window of the drawing-room into the conservatory to gather some
+of her pretty flowers for her visiters, as she heard Mr. Barclay say
+this. She turned with a stern, cold look, and regarded Kate Barclay
+quietly. Kate colored crimson, then grew deadly white, and trembled
+from head to foot; but her father did not notice it, as he had
+followed Col. Paulding and Mrs. Morris out on the lawn. There we three
+stood, Effie, cold and pale as a statue, and Kate looking quite like a
+criminal. She looked up, attempting to make some laughing remark, but
+the words died in her throat as she met Effie's stern, cold glance;
+she gasped, trembled, then rallied, and at last, with a proud look of
+defiance, she swept out on the lawn, and taking Col. Paulding's arm,
+proposed departure. She bade us good-bye most gracefully; but I saw
+that she avoided offering her hand to Effie. As the gate closed, she
+looked over her shoulder indifferently, and said, in a saucy, laughing
+tone,
+
+"Oh, pray make my adieux to Mr. Decker. I regret that I shall not see
+him to bid him good-bye. I depend upon the charity of you ladies to
+keep me fresh in his remembrance;" and, as far as we could see her
+down the road, we heard her forced laugh and unnaturally loud voice.
+
+Lucien came in a few minutes after they left, and Mrs. Morris
+delivered Kate's message. He looked agitated, and after swallowing his
+cup of tea hastily and quietly, he took up his hat and went out. He
+went to see Kate, but she, anticipating his visit, had retired with a
+violent headache immediately after her walk; but Lucien staid long
+enough to discover, as we had, Col. Paulding's relation to the
+fascinating coquette. This we learned long afterward. The next day
+Lucien left Stamford without saying more than cold words of good-bye.
+He did not go with Kate's party, we felt certain; and many weeks
+passed without hearing from him. Effie never made a remark; and our
+days passed quietly as they had before the appearance of Kate Barclay
+in our quiet little village. It was not long, however, before we saw
+in the newspapers, and read without comment, the marriage of Kate
+Barclay with Col. Paulding.
+
+"See this," said Mrs. Morris to me one morning as I entered the
+drawing-room, and she handed me a letter. We were alone, Effie was
+attending to her plants in the conservatory. I took the letter and
+read it. It was a wild, impassioned one from Lucien. Two months had
+elapsed since his silent departure, and this first letter was written
+to Mrs. Morris. It was filled with self-reproaches, and earnest
+entreaties for her intercession and mine with Effie. He cursed his
+infatuation, and the cause of it, and closed with the declaration that
+he would be reckless of life if Effie remained unforgiving. As I
+finished reading the letter I heard Effie's voice warbling in wild and
+plaintive notes in the conservatory,
+
+    "How should I your true love know,
+        From another one,
+    By his cockle hat and staff,
+        And his sandal shoon?"
+
+And the scene at the opening of this story rose before my
+remembrance--the playful argument--the declaration made by her that
+true, pure love could not have any affinity with pride--and I was lost
+in reverie.
+
+"What would you do, Enna?" inquired Mrs. Morris.
+
+"Give the letter to Effie without remark," I replied. "We cannot
+intercede for him--he does not deserve to be forgiven."
+
+The letter was given to Effie, who read it quietly; and if she evinced
+emotion, it was not before us. She said she was sorry for Lucien, for
+she had discovered a change in her own feelings. She did not love him
+as she fancied she had, and she could not in justice to herself
+fulfill their engagement--it was impossible. She wrote this to him,
+and all his wild letters were laid calmly and quietly aside. Can this
+be pride? I said to myself. But she seemed as though she suspected my
+thoughts, for the night before I returned to my city home, as we were
+leaning against the window-frame of our bed-room, listening the last
+time for that season to the tumbling, dashing water-music, she said,
+
+"Enna, dear, it was not spirit and pride that made me act so unkindly
+to Lucien--indeed, it was not. But I mistook my feelings for him from
+the first. I fancied I loved him dearly, when I only loved him as a
+sister. Believe me, if that love had existed once for him, his foolish
+infatuation for Kate Barclay would not have been regarded by me one
+moment."
+
+Two or three years passed, and Effie still remained unwedded, when, to
+our delight, Mr. Grayson, who had returned from Europe, again
+addressed her. She accepted him; and I was, indeed, happy when I
+officiated as bridesmaid for her. One year after that joyous wedding
+we stood over her bier, weeping bitter, bitter tears. We laid her in
+the grave--and the heart-broken mother soon rested beside her. Among
+her papers was a letter directed to me; it was written in expectation
+of death, although we did not any of us anticipate such a calamity.
+
+"I am not long for this world, dear Enna," she wrote, "I feel I am
+dying daily; and yet, young as I am, it grieves me not, except when I
+think of the sorrow my death will occasion to others. When you read
+this I shall be enveloped in the heavy grave-clothes; but then I shall
+be at rest. Oh! how my aching, weary spirit pines for rest. Do not
+fancy that sorrow or disappointment has brought me to this. I fancied
+I loved Lucien Decker fondly, devotedly; and how happy was I when
+under the influence of that fancy. That fatal summer, at the time of
+his infatuation for that heartless girl, insensibly a chilling
+hardness crept over my feelings. I struggled against my awakening; and
+if Lucien had displayed any emotion before his departure, I might
+still have kept up the happy delusion. But in vain, it disappeared,
+and with it all the beauty of life, which increased in weariness from
+that moment. I sought for some object of interest--I married; but,
+though my husband has been devoted and kind, I weary of existence.
+Life has no interest for me. I hail the approach of death. Farewell."
+
+I read these sad lines with eyes blinded with tears; and I could not
+help thinking how Effie had deceived herself; unconsciously she had
+become a victim of the very pride she had condemned.
+
+
+
+
+EARLY ENGLISH POETS.
+
+BY ELIZABETH J. EAMES.
+
+
+              I.--CHAUCER.
+
+    Yea! lovely are the hues still floating o'er
+      Thy rural visions, bard of olden time,
+    The form of purest Poesy flits before
+      My mental gaze, while bending o'er thy rhyme.
+      No lofty flight, bold, brilliant and sublime--
+      But tender beauty, and endearing grace,
+      And touching pathos in these lines I trace,
+    Oh! gentle poet of the northern clime.
+    And oft when dazzled by the gorgeous glow
+      And gilded luxury of modern rhymes,
+    Grateful I turn to the clear, quiet flow
+      Of thy sweet thoughts, which fall like pleasant chimes
+    From the "pure wells of English undefiled."
+    Thou wert inspired, thou, Poetry's true child.
+
+
+             II.--SPENCER.
+
+    What forms of grace and glory glided through
+      The royal palace of thy lofty mind!
+    Rare shapes of beauty thy sweet fancy drew,
+      In the brave knights, and peerless dames enshrined
+      Within thy magic book, The Faerie Queene,
+      Bright Gloriana robed in dazzling sheen--
+    Hapless Irene--angelic Una--and
+      The noble Arthur all before me pass,
+      As summoned by the enchanter rod and glass.
+    And glorious still thy pure creations stand,
+    Leaving their golden footprints on the sand
+      Of Time indelible! All thanks to thee,
+    Oh! beauty-breathing bard of Poesy,
+      That thou hast charmed a weary hour for me.
+
+
+            III.--SHAKSPEARE.
+
+    Oh! minstrel monarch! the most glorious throne
+      Of Intellect thy Genius doth inherit.
+    Compeer, or perfect rival thou hast none--
+      O Soul of Song!--O mind of royal merit.
+    Is not this high, imperishable fame
+      The tribute of a grateful world to thee?
+    A recognizing glory in thy name
+      From a great nation to thy memory.
+    Lord of Dramatic Art--the splendid scenes
+      Of thy rich fancy are around us still;
+      All shapes of Thought to make the bosom thrill
+    Are thine supreme! Many long years have sped,
+    And dimmed in dust the crowned and laureled head,
+    But thou--_thou_ speakest still, though numbered with the dead.
+
+
+
+
+THE PORTRAIT.
+
+[WITH AN ENGRAVING.]
+
+BY ROBT. T. CONRAD.
+
+
+    And he hath spoken! Knew I not he would?
+      Though flitting fears, like clouds o'er lakes, would cast
+    Shadows o'er true love's trust. The tear-drop stood
+      In his dark eye; he trembled. But 't is past,
+    And I am his, he mine. Why trembled he?
+      This fond heart knew he not; and that his eye
+    Governed its tides, as doth the moon the sea;
+      And that with him, for him, 't were bliss to die?
+    Yet said I naught. Shame on me, that my cheek
+      And eye my hoarded secret should betray!
+    Why wept I? And why was I sudden weak,
+      So weak his manly arm was stretched to stay?
+    How like a suppliant God he looked! His sweet,
+      Low voice, heart-shaken, spoke--and all was known;
+    Yet, from the first, I felt our souls must meet,
+      Like stars that rush together and shine on.
+
+
+[Illustration: The Bridal Morning
+
+J. Hayter          A. B. Ross
+
+Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine]
+
+
+
+
+THE ISLETS OF THE GULF;
+
+OR, ROSE BUDD.
+
+
+    Ay, now I am in Arden; the more fool
+    I; when I was at home I was in a better place; but
+    Travelers must be content. AS YOU LIKE IT.
+
+
+BY THE AUTHOR Of "PILOT," "RED ROVER," "TWO ADMIRALS,"
+"WING-AND-WING," "MILES WALLINGFORD," ETC.
+
+
+[Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by
+J. Fenimore Cooper, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court
+of the United States, for the Northern District of New York.]
+
+                 _(Continued from page 48.)_
+
+
+PART XV.
+
+    Man hath a weary pilgrimage
+    As through the world he wends;
+    On every stage, from youth to age,
+    Still discontent attends;
+    With heaviness he casts his eye
+    Upon the road before,
+    And still remembers with a sigh
+    The days that are no more. SOUTHEY.
+
+
+It has now become necessary to advance the time three entire days, and
+to change the scene to Key West. As this latter place may not be known
+to the world at large, it may be well to explain that it is a small
+seaport, situate on one of the largest of the many low islands that
+dot the Florida Reef, that has risen into notice, or indeed into
+existence as a town, since the acquisition of the Floridas by the
+American Republic. For many years it was the resort of few besides
+wreckers, and those who live by the business dependent on the rescuing
+and repairing of stranded vessels, not forgetting the salvages. When
+it is remembered that the greater portion of the vessels that enter
+the Gulf of Mexico stand close along this reef, before the trades, for
+a distance varying from one to two hundred miles, and that nearly
+every thing which quits it, is obliged to beat down its rocky coast in
+the Gulf Stream for the same distance, one is not to be surprised that
+the wrecks, which so constantly occur, can supply the wants of a
+considerable population. To live at Key West is the next thing to
+being at sea. The place has sea air, no other water than such as is
+preserved in cisterns, and no soil, or so little as to render even a
+head of lettuce a rarity. Turtle is abundant, and the business of
+"turtling" forms an occupation additional to that of wrecking. As
+might be expected in such circumstances, a potato is a far more
+precious thing than a turtle's egg, and a sack of the tubers would
+probably be deemed a sufficient remuneration for enough of the
+materials of callipash and callipee to feed all the aldermen extant.
+
+Of late years, the government of the United States has turned its
+attention to the capabilities of the Florida Reef, as an advanced
+naval station; a sort of Downs, or St. Helen's Roads, for the West
+Indian seas. As yet little has been done beyond making the preliminary
+surveys, but the day is not probably very distant when fleets will
+lie at anchor among the islets described in our earlier chapters, or
+garnish the fine waters of Key West. For a long time it was thought
+that even frigates would have a difficulty in entering and quitting
+the port of the latter, but it is said that recent explorations have
+discovered channels capable of admitting any thing that floats. Still
+Key West is a town yet in its chrysalis state, possessing the promise
+rather than the fruition of the prosperous days which are in reserve.
+It may be well to add, that it lies a very little north of the 24th
+degree of latitude, and in a longitude quite five degrees west from
+Washington. Until the recent conquests in Mexico it was the most
+southern possession of the American government, on the eastern side of
+the continent; Cape St. Lucas, at the extremity of Lower California,
+however, being two degrees farther south.
+
+It will give the foreign reader a more accurate notion of the
+character of Key West, if we mention a fact of quite recent
+occurrence. A very few weeks after the closing scenes of this tale,
+the town in question was, in a great measure, washed away! A hurricane
+brought in the sea upon all these islands and reefs, water running in
+swift currents over places that within the memory of man were never
+before submerged. The lower part of Key West was converted into a
+raging sea, and every thing in that quarter of the place disappeared.
+The foundation being of rock, however, when the ocean retired the
+island came into view again, and industry and enterprise set to work
+to repair the injuries.
+
+The government has established a small hospital for seamen at Key
+West. Into one of the rooms of the building thus appropriated our
+narrative must now conduct the reader. It contained but a single
+patient, and that was Spike. He was on his narrow bed, which was to be
+but the precursor of a still narrower tenement, the grave. In the room
+with the dying man were two females, in one of whom our readers will
+at once recognize the person of Rose Budd, dressed in deep mourning
+for her aunt. At first sight, it is probable that a casual spectator
+would mistake the second female for one of the ordinary nurses of the
+place. Her attire was well enough, though worn awkwardly, and as if
+its owner were not exactly at ease in it. She had the air of one in
+her best attire, who was unaccustomed to be dressed above the most
+common mode. What added to the singularity of her appearance, was the
+fact, that while she wore no cap, her hair had been cut into short,
+gray bristles, instead of being long, and turned up, as is usual with
+females. To give a sort of climax to this uncouth appearance, this
+strange-looking creature chewed tobacco.
+
+The woman in question, equivocal as might be her exterior, was
+employed in one of the commonest avocations of her sex--that of
+sewing. She held in her hand a coarse garment, one of Spike's, in
+fact, which she seemed to be intently busy in mending; although the
+work was of a quality that invited the use of the palm and
+sail-needle, rather than that of the thimble and the smaller implement
+known to seamstresses, the woman appeared awkward in her business, as
+if her coarse-looking and dark hands refused to lend themselves to an
+occupation so feminine. Nevertheless, there were touches of a purely
+womanly character about this extraordinary person, and touches that
+particularly attracted the attention, and awakened the sympathy of the
+gentle Rose, her companion. Tears occasionally struggled out from
+beneath her eyelids, crossed her dark, sun-burnt cheek, and fell on
+the coarse canvas garment that lay in her lap. It was after one of
+these sudden and strong exhibitions of feeling that Rose approached
+her, laid her own little, fair hand, in a friendly way, though
+unheeded, on the other's shoulder, and spoke to her in her kindest and
+softest tones.
+
+"I do really think he is reviving, Jack," said Rose, "and that you may
+yet hope to have an intelligent conversation with him."
+
+"They all agree he _must_ die," answered Jack Tier--for it was _he_,
+appearing in the garb of his proper sex, after a disguise that had now
+lasted fully twenty years--"and he will never know who I am, and that
+I forgive him. He must think of me in another world, though he isn't
+able to do it in this; but it would be a great relief to his soul to
+know that I forgive him."
+
+"To be sure, a man must like to take a kind leave of his own wife
+before he closes his eyes forever; and I dare say it would be a great
+relief to you to tell him that you have forgotten his desertion of
+you, and all the hardships it has brought upon you in searching for
+him, and in earning your own livelihood as a common sailor."
+
+"I shall not tell him I've _forgotten_ it, Miss Rose; that would be
+untrue--and there shall be no more deception between us; but I shall
+tell him that I _forgive_ him, as I hope God will one day forgive me
+all _my_ sins."
+
+"It is, certainly, not a light offence to desert a wife in a foreign
+land, and then to seek to deceive another woman," quietly observed
+Rose.
+
+"He's a willian!" muttered the wife--"but--but--"
+
+"You forgive him, Jack--yes, I'm sure you do. You are too good a
+Christian to refuse to forgive him."
+
+"I'm a woman a'ter all, Miss Rose; and that, I believe, is the truth
+of it. I suppose I ought to do as you say, for the reason you
+mention; but I'm his wife--and once he loved me, though that has long
+been over. When I first knew Stephen, I'd the sort of feelin's you
+speak of, and was a very different creatur' from what you see me
+to-day. Change comes over us all with years and sufferin'."
+
+Rose did not answer, but she stood looking intently at the speaker
+more than a minute. Change had, indeed, come over her, if she had ever
+possessed the power to please the fancy of any living man. Her
+features had always seemed diminitive and mean for her assumed sex, as
+her voice was small and cracked; but, making every allowance for the
+probabilities, Rose found it difficult to imagine that Jack Tier had
+ever possessed, even under the high advantages of youth and innocence,
+the attractions so common to her sex. Her skin had acquired the
+tanning of the sea; the expression of her face had become hard and
+worldly; and her habits contributed to render those natural
+consequences of exposure and toil even more than usually marked and
+decided. By saying "habits," however, we do not mean that Jack had
+ever drank to excess, as happens with so many seamen, for this would
+have been doing her injustice, but she smoked and chewed--practices
+that intoxicate in another form, and lead nearly as many to the grave
+as excess in drinking. Thus all the accessories about this singular
+being, partook of the character of her recent life and duties. Her
+walk was between a waddle and a seaman's roll; her hands were
+discolored with tar, and had got to be full of knuckles, and even her
+feet had degenerated into that flat, broad-toed form that, perhaps,
+sooner distinguishes caste, in connection with outward appearances,
+than any one other physical peculiarity. Yet this being _had_ once
+been young--had once been even _fair_; and had once possessed that
+feminine air and lightness of form, that as often belongs to the
+youthful American of her sex, perhaps, as to the girl of any other
+nation on earth. Rose continued to gaze at her companion for some
+time, when she walked musingly to a window that looked out upon the
+port.
+
+"I am not certain whether it would do him good or not to see this
+sight," she said, addressing the wife kindly, doubtful of the effect
+of her words even on the latter. "But here are the sloop-of-war, and
+several other vessels."
+
+"Ay, she is _there_; but never will his foot be put on board the Swash
+ag'in. When he bought that brig I was still young, and agreeable to
+him; and he gave her my maiden name, which was Mary, or Molly Swash.
+But that is all changed; I wonder he did not change the name with his
+change of feelin's."
+
+"Then you did really sail in the brig in former times, and knew the
+seaman whose name you assumed?"
+
+"Many years. Tier, with whose name I made free, on account of his
+size, and some resemblance to me in form, died under my care; and his
+protection fell into my hands, which first put the notion into my head
+of hailing as his representative. Yes, I knew Tier in the brig, and we
+were left ashore at the same time--I, intentionally, I make no
+question; he, because Stephen Spike was in a hurry, and did not choose
+to wait for a man. The poor fellow caught the yellow fever the very
+next day, and did not live eight-and-forty hours. So the world goes;
+them that wish to live, die; and them that wants to die, live!"
+
+"You have had a hard time for one of your sex, poor Jack--quite twenty
+years a sailor, did you not tell me?"
+
+"Every day of it, Miss Rose--and bitter years have they been; for the
+whole of that time have I been in chase of my husband, keeping my own
+secret, and slaving like a horse for a livelihood."
+
+"You could not have been old when he left--that is--when you parted."
+
+"Call it by its true name, and say at once, when he desarted me. I was
+under thirty by two or three years, and was still like my own sex to
+look at. All _that_ is changed since; but I _was_ comely _then_."
+
+"_Why_ did Capt. Spike abandon you, Jack; you have never told me
+_that_."
+
+"Because he fancied another. And ever since that time he has been
+fancying others, instead of remembering me. Had he got _you_, Miss
+Rose, I think he would have been content for the rest of his days."
+
+"Be certain, Jack, I should never have consented to marry Capt.
+Spike."
+
+"You're well out of his hands," answered Jack, sighing heavily, which
+was much the most feminine thing she had done during the whole
+conversation, "well out of his hands--and God be praised it is so. He
+should have died, before I would let him carry you off the
+island--husband or no husband."
+
+"It might have exceeded your power to prevent it under other
+circumstances, Jack."
+
+Rose now continued looking out of the window in silence. Her thoughts
+reverted to her aunt and Biddy, and tears rolled down her cheeks as
+she remembered the love of one, and the fidelity of the other. Their
+horrible fate had given her a shock that, at first, menaced her with a
+severe fit of illness; but her strong, good sense, and excellent
+constitution, both sustained by her piety and Harry's manly
+tenderness, had brought her through the danger, and left her, as the
+reader now sees her, struggling with her own griefs, in order to be of
+use to the still more unhappy woman who had so singularly become her
+friend and companion.
+
+The reader will readily have anticipated that Jack Tier had early made
+the females on board the Swash her confidents. Rose had known the
+outlines of her history from the first few days they were at sea
+together, which is the explanation of the visible intimacy that had
+caused Mulford so much surprise. Jack's motive in making his
+revelations might possibly have been tinctured with jealousy, but a
+desire to save one as young and innocent as Rose was at its bottom.
+Few persons but a wife would have supposed our heroine could have been
+in any danger from a lover like Spike; but Jack saw him with the eyes
+of her own youth, and of past recollections, rather than with those of
+truth. A movement of the wounded man first drew Rose from the window.
+Drying her eyes hastily, she turned toward him, fancying that she
+might prove the better nurse of the two, notwithstanding Jack's
+greater interest in the patient.
+
+"What place is this--and why am I here?" demanded Spike, with more
+strength of voice than could have been expected, after all that had
+passed. "This is not a cabin--not the Swash--it looks like a
+hospital."
+
+"It is a hospital, Capt. Spike," said Rose, gently drawing near the
+bed; "you have been hurt, and have been brought to Key West, and
+placed in the hospital. I hope you feel better, and that you suffer no
+pain."
+
+"My head isn't right--I don't know--every thing seems turned round
+with me--perhaps it will all come out as it should. I begin to
+remember--where is my brig?"
+
+"She is lost on the rocks. The seas have broken her into fragments."
+
+"That's melancholy news, at any rate. Ah! Miss Rose! God bless
+you--I've had terrible dreams. Well, it's pleasant to be among
+friends--what creature is that--where does _she_ come from?"
+
+"That is Jack Tier," answered Rose, steadily. "She turns out to be a
+woman, and has put on her proper dress, in order to attend on you
+during your illness. Jack has never left your bed-side since we have
+been here."
+
+A long silence succeeded this revelation. Jack's eyes twinkled, and
+she hitched her body half aside, as if to conceal her features, where
+emotions that were unusual were at work with the muscles. Rose thought
+it might be well to leave the man and wife alone--and she managed to
+get out of the room unobserved.
+
+Spike continued to gaze at the strange-looking female, who was now his
+sole companion. Gradually his recollection returned, and with it the
+full consciousness of his situation. He might not have been fully
+aware of the absolute certainty of his approaching death, but he must
+have known that his wound was of a very grave character, and that the
+result might early prove fatal. Still that strange and unknown figure
+haunted him; a figure that was so different from any he had ever seen
+before, and which, in spite of its present dress, seemed to belong
+quite as much to one sex as to the other. As for Jack--we call Molly,
+or Mary Swash by her masculine appellation, not only because it is
+more familiar, but because the other name seems really out of place,
+as applied to such a person--as for Jack, then, she sat with her face
+half averted, thumbing the canvas, and endeavoring to ply the needle,
+but perfectly mute. She was conscious that Spike's eyes were on her;
+and a lingering feeling of her sex told her how much time, exposure,
+and circumstances, had changed her person--and she would gladly have
+hidden the defects in her appearance.
+
+Mary Swash was the daughter as well as the wife of a ship-master. In
+her youth, as has been said before, she had even been pretty, and down
+to the day when her husband deserted her, she would have been thought
+a female of a comely appearance rather than the reverse. Her hair in
+particular, though slightly coarse, perhaps, had been rich and
+abundant; and the change from the long, dark, shining, flowing locks
+which she still possessed in her thirtieth year, to the short, gray
+bristles that now stood exposed without a cap, or covering of any
+sort, was one very likely to destroy all identity of appearance. Then
+Jack had passed from what might be called youth to the verge of old
+age, in the interval that she had been separated from her husband. Her
+shape had changed entirely; her complexion was utterly gone; and her
+features, always unmeaning, though feminine, and suitable to her sex,
+had become hard and slightly coarse. Still there was something of her
+former self about Jack that bewildered Spike; and his eyes continued
+fastened on her for quite a quarter of an hour in profound silence.
+
+"Give me some water," said the wounded man, "I wish some water to
+drink."
+
+Jack arose, filled a tumbler and brought it to the side of the bed.
+Spike took the glass and drank, but the whole time his eyes were
+riveted on his strange nurse. When his thirst was appeased, he asked--
+
+"Who are you? How came you here?"
+
+"I am your nurse. It is common to place nurses at the bedsides of the
+sick."
+
+"Are you man or woman?"
+
+"That is a question I hardly know how to answer. Sometimes I think
+myself each; sometimes neither."
+
+"Did I ever see you before?"
+
+"Often, and quite lately. I sailed with you in your last voyage."
+
+"You! That cannot be. If so, what is your name?"
+
+"Jack Tier."
+
+A long pause succeeded this announcement, which induced Spike to muse
+as intently as his condition would allow, though the truth did not yet
+flash on his understanding. At length the bewildered man again spoke.
+
+"Are _you_ Jack Tier?" he said slowly, like one who doubted. "Yes--I
+now see the resemblance, and it was _that_ which puzzled me. Are they
+so rigid in this hospital that you have been obliged to put on woman's
+clothes in order to lend me a helping hand?"
+
+"I am dressed as you see, and for good reasons."
+
+"But Jack Tier run, like that rascal Mulford--ay, I remember now; you
+were in the boat when I over-hauled you all on the reef."
+
+"Very true; I was in the boat. But I never run, Stephen Spike. It was
+_you_ who abandoned _me_, on the islet in the gulf, and that makes the
+second time in your life that you have left me ashore, when it was
+your duty to carry me to sea."
+
+"The first time I was in a hurry, and could not wait for you; this
+last time you took sides with the women. But for your interference, I
+should have got Rose, and married her, and all would now have been
+well with me."
+
+This was an awkward announcement for a man to make to his legal wife.
+But after all Jack had endured, and all Jack had seen during the late
+voyage, she was not to be overcome by this avowal. Her self-command
+extended so far as to prevent any open manifestation of emotion,
+however much her feelings were excited.
+
+"I took sides with the women, because I am a woman myself," she
+answered, speaking at length with decision, as if determined to bring
+matters to a head at once. "It is natural for us all to take sides
+with our kind."
+
+"You a woman, Jack! That is very remarkable. Since when have you
+hailed for a woman? You have shipped with me twice, and each time as a
+man--though I've never thought you able to do seaman's duty."
+
+"Nevertheless, I am what you see; a woman born and edicated; one that
+never had on man's dress until I knew you. _You_ supposed me to be a
+man, when I came off to you in the skiff to the eastward of Riker's
+Island, but I was then what you now see."
+
+"I begin to understand matters," rejoined the invalid, musingly. "Ay,
+ay, it opens on me; and I now see how it was you made such fair
+weather with Madam Budd and pretty, pretty Rose. Rose _is_ pretty,
+Jack; you _must_ admit _that_, though you be a woman."
+
+"Rose _is_ pretty--I do admit it; and what is better, Rose is _good_."
+It required a heavy draft on Jack's justice and magnanimity, however,
+to make this concession.
+
+"And you told Rose and Madam Budd about your sex; and that was the
+reason they took to you so on the v'y'ge?"
+
+"I told them who I was, and why I went abroad as a man. They know my
+whole story."
+
+"Did Rose approve of your sailing under false colors, Jack?"
+
+"You must ask that of Rose herself. My story made her my friend; but
+she never said any thing for or against my disguise."
+
+"It was no great disguise a'ter all, Jack. Now you're fitted out in
+your own clothes, you've a sort of half-rigged look; one would be as
+likely to set you down for a man under jury-canvas, as for a woman."
+
+Jack made no answer to this, but she sighed very heavily. As for Spike
+himself, he was silent for some little time, not only from exhaustion,
+but because he suffered pain from his wound. The needle was diligently
+but awkwardly plied in this pause.
+
+Spike's ideas were still a little confused; but a silence and rest of
+a quarter of an hour cleared them materially. At the end of that time
+he again asked for water. When he had drank, and Jack was once more
+seated, with his side-face toward him, at work with the needle, the
+captain gazed long and intently at this strange woman. It happened
+that the profile of Jack preserved more of the resemblance to her
+former self, than the full face; and it was this resemblance that now
+attracted Spike's attention, though not the smallest suspicion of the
+truth yet gleamed upon him. He saw something that was familiar, though
+he could not even tell what that something was, much less to what or
+whom it bore any resemblance. At length he spoke.
+
+"I was told that Jack Tier was dead," he said; "that he took the
+fever, and was in his grave within eight-and-forty hours after we
+sailed. That was what they told me of _him_."
+
+"And what did they tell you of your own wife, Stephen Spike. She that
+you left ashore at the time Jack was left?"
+
+"They said she did not die for three years later. I heard of her death
+at New Or_leens_, three years later."
+
+"And how could you leave her ashore--she, your true and lawful wife?"
+
+"It was a bad thing," answered Spike, who, like all other mortals,
+regarded his own past career, now that he stood on the edge of the
+grave, very differently from what he had regarded it in the hour of
+his health and strength. "Yes, it _was_ a very bad thing; and I wish
+it was ondone. But it is too late now. She died of the fever,
+too--that's some comfort; had she died of a broken-heart, I could not
+have forgiven myself. Molly was not without her faults--great faults,
+I considered them; but, on the whole, Molly was a good creatur'."
+
+"You liked her, then, Stephen Spike?"
+
+"I can truly say that when I married Molly, and old Capt. Swash put
+his da'ghter's hand into mine, that the woman wasn't living who was
+better in my judgment, or handsomer in my eyes."
+
+"Ay, ay--when you _married_ her; but how was it a'terwards. When you
+was tired of her, and saw another that was fairer in your eyes?"
+
+"I desarted her; and God has punished me for the sin! Do you know,
+Jack, that luck has never been with me since that day. Often and often
+have I bethought me of it; and sartain as you sit there, no great luck
+has ever been with me, or my craft, since I went off, leaving my wife
+ashore. What was made in one v'y'ge, was lost in the next. Up and
+down, up and down the whole time, for so many, many long years, that
+gray hairs set in, and old age was beginning to get close aboard--and
+I as poor as ever. It has been rub and go with me ever since; and I
+have had as much as I could do to keep the brig in motion, as the only
+means that was left to make the two ends meet."
+
+"And did not all this make you think of your poor wife--she whom you
+had so wronged?"
+
+"I thought of little else, until I heard of her death at New
+Or_leens_--and then I gave it up as useless. Could I have fallen in
+with Molly at any time a'ter the first six months of my desartion, she
+and I would have come together again, and every thing would have been
+forgotten. I knowed her very nature, which was all forgiveness to me
+at the bottom, though seemingly so spiteful and hard."
+
+"Yet you wanted to have this Rose Budd, who is only too young, and
+handsome, and good for you."
+
+"I was tired of being a widower, Jack; and Rose _is_ wonderful pretty.
+She has money, too, and might make the evening of my days comfortable.
+The brig was old, as you must know, and has long been off of all the
+Insurance Offices' books; and she couldn't hold together much longer.
+But for this sloop-of-war, I should have put her off on the Mexicans;
+and they would have lost her to our people in a month."
+
+"And was it an honest thing to sell an old and worn-out craft to any
+one, Stephen Spike?"
+
+Spike had a conscience that had become hard as iron by means of trade.
+He who traffics much, most especially if his dealings be on so small a
+scale as to render constant investigations of the minor qualities of
+things necessary, must be a very fortunate man, if he preserve his
+conscience in any better condition. When Jack made this allusion,
+therefore, the dying man--for death was much nearer to Spike than even
+he supposed, though he no longer hoped for his own recovery--when Jack
+made this allusion, then, the dying man was a good deal at a loss to
+comprehend it. He saw no particular harm in making the best bargain he
+could; nor was it easy for him to understand why he might not dispose
+of any thing he possessed for the highest price that was to be had.
+Still he answered in an apologetic sort of way.
+
+"The brig was old, I acknowledge," he said, "but she was strong, and
+_might_ have run a long time. I only spoke of her capture as a thing
+likely to take place soon, if the Mexicans got her; so that her
+qualities were of no great account, unless it might be her speed--and
+that you know was excellent, Jack."
+
+"And you regret that brig, Stephen Spike, lying as you do on your
+death-bed, more than any thing else."
+
+"Not as much as I do pretty Rose Budd, Jack; Rosy is so delightful to
+look at!"
+
+The muscles of Jack's face twitched a little, and she looked deeply
+mortified; for, to own the truth, she hoped that the conversation had
+so far turned her delinquent husband's thoughts to the past, as to
+have revived in him some of his former interest in herself. It is
+true, he still believed her dead; but this was a circumstance Jack
+overlooked--so hard is it to hear the praises of a rival, and be just.
+She felt the necessity of being more explicit, and determined at once
+to come to the point.
+
+"Stephen Spike," she said, steadily, drawing near to the bed-side,
+"you should be told the truth, when you are heard thus extolling the
+good looks of Rose Budd, with less than eight-and-forty hours of life
+remaining. Mary Swash did not die, as you have supposed, three years
+a'ter you desarted her, but is living at this moment. Had you read the
+letter I gave you in the boat, just before you made me jump into the
+sea, _that_ would have told you where she is to be found."
+
+Spike stared at the speaker intently; and when her cracked voice
+ceased, his look was that of a man who was terrified as well as
+bewildered. This did not arise still from any gleamings of the real
+state of the case, but from the soreness with which his conscience
+pricked him, when he heard that his much-wronged wife was alive. He
+fancied, with a vivid and rapid glance at the probabilities, all that
+a woman abandoned would be likely to endure in the course of so many
+long and suffering years.
+
+"Are you sure of what you say, Jack? You wouldn't take advantage of my
+situation to tell me an untruth?"
+
+"As certain of it as of my own existence. I have seen her quite
+lately--talked with her of _you_--in short, she is now at Key West,
+knows your state, and has a wife's feelin's to come to your bed-side."
+
+Notwithstanding all this, and the many gleamings he had had of the
+facts during their late intercourse on board the brig, Spike did not
+guess at the truth. He appeared astounded, and his terror seemed to
+increase.
+
+"I have another thing to tell you," continued Jack, pausing but a
+moment to collect her own thoughts. "Jack Tier--the real Jack Tier--he
+who sailed with you of old, and whom you left ashore at the same time
+you desarted your wife, _did_ die of the fever, as you was told, in
+eight-and-forty hours a'ter the brig went to sea."
+
+"Then who, in the name of Heaven, are you? How came you to hail by
+another's name as well as by another sex?"
+
+"What could a woman do, whose husband had desarted her in a strange
+land?"
+
+"That is remarkable! So _you_'ve been married? I should not have
+thought _that_ possible; and your husband desarted you, too. Well,
+such things _do_ happen." Jack now felt a severe pang. She could not
+but see that her ungainly--we had almost said her unearthly
+appearance--prevented the captain from even yet suspecting the truth;
+and the meaning of his language was not easily to be mistaken. That
+any one should have married _her_, seemed to her husband as improbable
+as it was probable he would run away from her as soon as it was in his
+power after the ceremony.
+
+"Stephen Spike," resumed Jack, solemnly, "_I_ am Mary Swash--_I_ am
+your wife!"
+
+Spike started in his bed; then he buried his face in the coverlet--and
+he actually groaned. In bitterness of spirit the woman turned away and
+wept. Her feelings had been blunted by misfortune and the collisions
+of a selfish world; but enough of former self remained to make this
+the hardest of all the blows she had ever received. Her husband, dying
+as he was, as he must and did know himself to be, shrunk from one of
+her appearance, unsexed as she had become by habits, and changed by
+years and suffering.
+
+                                                 [_To be continued_.
+
+
+
+
+AN HOUR.
+
+BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR.
+
+
+    I've left the keen, cold winds to blow
+      Around the summits bare;
+    My sunny pathway to the sea
+      Winds downward, green and fair,
+    And bright-leaved branches toss and glow
+      Upon the buoyant air!
+
+    The fern its fragrant plumage droops
+      O'er mosses, crisp and gray,
+    Where on the shaded crags I sit,
+      Beside the cataract's spray,
+    And watch the far-off, shining sails
+      Go down the sunny bay!
+
+    I've left the wintry winds of life
+      On barren hearts to blow--
+    The anguish and the gnawing care,
+      The silent, shuddering wo!
+    Across the balmy sea of dreams
+      My spirit-barque shall go.
+
+    Learned not the breeze its fairy lore
+      Where sweetest measures throng?
+    A maiden sings, beside the stream,
+      Some chorus, wild and long,
+    Mingling and blending with its roar,
+      Like rainbows turned to song!
+
+    I hear it, like a strain that sweeps
+      The confines of a dream;
+    Now fading into silent space,
+      Now with a flashing gleam
+    Of triumph, ringing through the deeps
+      Of forest, dell and stream!
+
+    Away! away! I hear the horn
+      Among the hills of Spain:
+    The old, chivalric glory fires
+      Her warrior-hearts again!
+    Ho! how their banners light the morn,
+      Along Grenada's plain!
+
+    I hear the hymns of holy faith
+      The red Crusaders sang,
+    And the silver horn of Ronçeval,
+      That o'er the tecbir rang
+    When prince and kaiser through the fray
+      To the paladin's rescue sprang!
+
+    A beam of burning light I hold!--
+      My good Damascus brand,
+    And the jet-black charger that I ride
+      Was foaled in the Arab land,
+    And a hundred horsemen, mailed in steel,
+      Follow my bold command!
+
+    Through royal cities speeds our march--
+      The minster-bells are rung;
+    The loud, rejoicing trumpets peal,
+      The battle-flags are swung,
+    And sweet, sweet lips of ladies praise
+      The chieftain, brave and young.
+
+    And now, in bright Provençal bowers,
+      A minstrel-knight am I:
+    A gentle bosom on my own
+      Throbs back its ecstasy;
+    A cheek, as fair as the almond flowers,
+      Thrills to my lips' reply!
+
+    I tread the fanes of wondrous Rome,
+      Crowned with immortal bay,
+    And myriads throng the Capitol
+      To hear my lofty lay,
+    While, sounding o'er the Tiber's foam,
+      Their shoutings peal away!
+
+    Oh, triumph such as this were worth
+      The poet's doom of pain,
+    Whose hours are brazen on the earth,
+      But golden in the brain:
+    I close the starry gate of dreams,
+      And walk the dust again!
+
+
+
+
+POWER OF BEAUTY,
+
+AND A PLAIN MAN'S LOVE.
+
+BY N. P. WILLIS.
+
+
+That the truths arrived at by the unaccredited short road of
+"magnetism" had better be stripped of their technical phraseology, and
+set down as the gradual discoveries of science and experience, is a
+policy upon which acts many a sagacious believer in "clairvoyance."
+Doubtless, too, there is, here and there, a wise man, who is glad
+enough to pierce, with the eyes of an incredible agent, the secrets
+about him, and let the world give him credit, by whatever name they
+please, for the superior knowledge of which he silently takes
+advantage. I should be behind the time, if I had not sounded to the
+utmost of my ability and opportunity the depth of this new medium. I
+have tried it on grave things and trifles. If the unveiling which I am
+about to record were of more use to myself than to others, perhaps I
+should adopt the policy of which I have just spoken, and give the
+result, simply as my own shrewd lesson learned in reading the female
+heart. But the truths I unfold will instruct the few who need and can
+appreciate them, while the whole subject is not of general importance
+enough to bring down cavilers upon the credibility of their source. I
+thus get rid of a very detestable though sometimes necessary evil,
+("_qui nescit dissimulare nescit vivere_," says the Latin sage,) that
+of shining by any light that is not absolutely my own.
+
+I am a very plain man in my personal appearance--_so_ plain that a
+common observer, if informed that there was a woman who had a fancy
+for my peculiar type, would wonder that I was not thankfully put to
+rest for life as a seeker after love--a second miracle of the kind
+being a very slender probability. It is not in beauty that the taste
+for beauty alone resides, however. In early youth my soul, like the
+mirror of Cydippe, retained, with enamored fidelity, the image of
+female loveliness copied in the clear truth of its appreciation, and
+the passion for it had become, insensibly, the thirst of my life,
+before I thought of it as more than an intoxicating study. To be
+loved--myself beloved--by a creature made in one of the diviner moulds
+of woman, was, however, a dream that shaped itself into waking
+distinctness at last, and from that hour I took up the clogging weight
+of personal disadvantages, to which I had hitherto unconsciously been
+chained, and bore it heavily in the race which the well-favored ran as
+eagerly as I.
+
+I am not to recount, here, the varied experiences of my search, the
+world over, after beauty and its smile. It is a search on which all
+travelers are more than half bent, let them name as they please their
+professed errand in far countries. The coldest scholar in art will
+better remember a living face of a new cast of expression, met in the
+gallery of Florence, than the best work of Michael Angelo, whose
+genius he has crossed an ocean to study; and a fair shoulder crowded
+against the musical pilgrim, in the Capella Sistiera, will be taken
+surer into his soul's inner memory than the best outdoing of "the
+sky-lark taken up into heaven," by the ravishing reach of the
+_Miserere_. Is it not true?
+
+There can hardly be now, I think, a style of female beauty of which I
+have not appreciated the meaning and comparative enchantment, nor a
+degree of that sometimes more effective thing than beauty itself--its
+expression breathing through features otherwise unlovely--that I have
+not approached near enough to weigh and store truthfully in
+remembrance. The taste forever refines in the study of woman. We
+return to what, with immature eye, we at first rejected; we intensify,
+immeasurably, our worship of the few who wear on their foreheads the
+star of supreme loveliness, confessed pure and perfect by all
+beholders alike; we detect it under surfaces which become transparent
+only with tenderness or enthusiasm; we separate the work of Nature's
+material chisel from the resistless and warm expansion of the soul
+swelling its proportions to fill out the shape it is to tenant
+hereafter. Led by the purest study of true beauty, the eager mind
+passes on from the shrine where it lingered to the next of whose
+greater brightness it becomes aware; and this is the secret of one
+kind of "inconstancy in love," which should be named apart from the
+variableness of those seekers of novelty, who, from unconscious
+self-contempt, value nothing they have had the power to win.
+
+An unsuspected student of beauty, I passed years of loiterings in the
+living galleries of Europe and Asia, and, like self-punishing misers
+in all kinds of amassings, stored up boundlessly more than, with the
+best trained senses, I could have found the life to enjoy. Of course I
+had a first advantage, of dangerous facility, in my unhappy plainness
+of person--the alarm-guard that surrounds every beautiful woman in
+every country of the world--letting sleep at _my_ approach the
+cautionary reserve which presents bayonet so promptly to the
+good-looking. Even with my worship avowed, and the manifestation of
+grateful regard which a woman of fine quality always returns for
+elevated and unexacting admiration I was still left with such
+privilege of access as is granted to the family-gossip, or to an
+innocuous uncle, and it is of such a passion, rashly nurtured under
+this protection of an improbability, that I propose to tell the
+_inner_ story.
+
+
+
+
+PART II.
+
+
+I was at the Baths of Lucca during a season made gay by the presence
+of a large proportion of the agreeable and accessible court of
+Tuscany. The material for my untiring study was in abundance, yet it
+was all of the worldly character which the attractions of the place
+would naturally draw together, and my homage had but a choice between
+differences of display, in the one pursuit of admiration. In my walks
+through the romantic mountain-paths of the neighborhood, and along the
+banks of the deep-down river that threads the ravine above the
+village, I had often met, meantime, a lady accompanied by a well-bred
+and scholar-like looking man; and though she invariably dropped her
+veil at my approach, her admirable movement, as she walked, or stooped
+to pick a flower, betrayed that conscious possession of beauty and
+habitual confidence in her own grace and elegance, which assured me of
+attractions worth taking trouble to know. By one of those "unavoidable
+accidents" which any respectable guardian angel will contrive, to
+oblige one, I was a visiter to the gentleman and lady--father and
+daughter--soon after my curiosity had framed the desire; and in her I
+found a marvel of beauty, from which I looked in vain for my usual
+escape--that of placing the ladder of my heart against a loftier and
+fairer.
+
+Mr. Wangrave was one of those English gentlemen who would not exchange
+the name of an ancient and immemorially wealthy family for any title
+that their country could give them, and he used this shield of modest
+honor simply to protect himself in the enjoyment of habits, freed, as
+far as refinement and culture could do it, from the burthens and
+intrusions of life above and below him. He was ceaselessly educating
+himself--like a man whose whole life was only too brief an
+apprenticeship to a higher existence--and, with an invalid but
+intellectual and lovely wife, and a daughter who seemed unconscious
+that she could love, and who kept gay pace with her youthful-hearted
+father in his lighter branches of knowledge, his family sufficed to
+itself, and had determined so to continue while abroad. The society of
+no Continental watering-place has a very good name, and they were
+there for climate and seclusion. With two ladies, who seemed to occupy
+the places and estimation of friends, (but who were probably the paid
+nurse and companion to the invalid,) and a kind-hearted old secretary
+to Mr. Wangrave, whose duties consisted in being as happy as he could
+possibly be, their circle was large enough, and it contained elements
+enough--except only, perhaps, the _réveille_ that was wanting for the
+apparently slumbering heart of Stephania.
+
+A month after my first call upon the Wangraves, I joined them on their
+journey to Vallambrosa, where they proposed to take refuge from the
+sultry coming of the Italian autumn. My happiness would not have been
+arranged after the manner of this world's happiness, if I had been the
+only addition to their party up the mountain. They had received with
+open arms, a few days before leaving Lucca, a young man from the
+neighborhood of their own home, and who, I saw with half a glance, was
+the very Eidolon and type of what Mr. Wangrave would desire as a
+fitting match for his daughter. From the allusions to him that had
+preceded his coming, I had learned that he was the heir to a brilliant
+fortune, and was coming to his old friends to be congratulated on his
+appointment to a captaincy in the Queen's Guards--as pretty a case of
+an "irresistible" as could well have been compounded for expectation.
+And when he came--the absolute model of a youth of noble beauty--all
+frankness, good manners, joyousness, and confidence, I summoned
+courage to look alternately at Stephania and him, and the hope, the
+daring hope that I had never yet named to myself, but which was
+already master of my heart, and its every pulse and capability,
+dropped prostrate and lifeless in my bosom. If he did but offer her
+the life-minute of love, of which I would give her, it seemed to me,
+for the same price, an eternity of countless existences--if he should
+but give her a careless word, where I could wring a passionate
+utterance out of the aching blood of my very heart--she must needs be
+his. She would be a star else that would resign an orbit in the fair
+sky, to illumine a dim cave; a flower that would rather bloom on a
+bleak moor, than in the garden of a king--for, with such crushing
+comparisons, did I irresistibly see myself as I remembered my own
+shape and features, and my far humbler fortunes than his, standing in
+her presence beside him.
+
+Oh! how every thing contributed to enhance the beauty of that young
+man. How the mellow and harmonizing tenderness of the light of the
+Italian sky gave sentiment to his oval cheek, depth to his gray-blue
+eye, meaning to their overfolding and thick-fringed lashes. Whatever
+he said with his finely-cut lips, was _looked_ into twenty times its
+meaning by the beauty of their motion in that languid atmosphere--an
+atmosphere that seemed only breathed for his embellishment and
+Stephania's. Every posture he took seemed a happy and rare accident,
+which a painter should have been there to see. The sunsets, the
+moonlight, the chance back-ground and fore-ground, of vines and
+rocks--every thing seemed in conspiracy to heighten his effect, and
+make of him a faultless picture of a lover.
+
+"Every thing," did I say? Yes, _even myself_--for my uncomely face and
+form were such a foil to his beauty as a skillful artist would have
+introduced to heighten it when all other art was exhausted, and every
+one saw it except Stephania; and little they knew how, with
+perceptions far quicker than theirs, I _felt_ their recognition of
+this, in the degree of softer kindness in which they unconsciously
+spoke to me. They pitied me, and without recognizing their own
+thought--for it was a striking instance of the difference in the
+gifts of nature--one man looking scarce possible to love, and beside
+him, another, of the same age, to whose mere first-seen beauty,
+without a word from his lips, any heart would seem unnatural not to
+leap in passionate surrender.
+
+We were the best of sudden friends, Palgray and I. He, like the rest,
+walked only the outer vestibule of the sympathies, viewlessly
+deepening and extending, hour by hour, in that frank and joyous
+circle. The interlinkings of soul, which need no language, and which
+go on, whether we will or no, while we talk with friends, are so
+strangely unthought of by the careless and happy. He saw in me no
+counter-worker to his influence. I was to him but a well-bred and
+extremely plain man, who tranquilly submitted to forego all the first
+prizes of life, content if I could contribute to society in its
+unexcited voids, and receive in return only the freedom of its outer
+intercourse, and its friendly esteem. But, oh! it was not in the same
+world that he and I knew Stephania. He approached her from the world
+in whose most valued excellences, beauty and wealth, he was
+pre-eminently gifted--I, from the viewless world, in which I had at
+least more skill and knowledge. In the month that I had known her
+before he came, I had sedulously addressed myself to a character
+within her, of which Palgray had not even a conjecture; and there was
+but one danger of his encroachment on the ground I had gained--her
+imagination might supply in him the nobler temple of soul-worship,
+which was still unbuilt, and which would never be builded except by
+pangs such as he was little likely to feel in the undeepening channel
+of happiness. He did not notice that _I_ never spoke to her in the
+same key of voice to which the conversation of others was attuned. He
+saw not that, while she turned to _him_ with a smile as a preparation
+to listen, she heard _my_ voice as if her attention had been arrested
+by distant music--with no change in her features except a look more
+earnest. She would have called _him_ to look with her at a glowing
+sunset, or to point out a new comer in the road from the village; but
+if the moon had gone suddenly into a cloud and saddened the face of
+the landscape, or if the wind had sounded mournfully through the
+trees, as she looked out upon the night, she would have spoken of that
+first to _me_.
+
+
+
+
+PART III.
+
+
+I am flying over the track, of what was to me a torrent--outlining its
+course by alighting upon, here and there, a point where it turned or
+lingered.
+
+The reader has been to Vallambrosa--if not once as a pilgrim, at least
+often with writers of travels in Italy. The usages of the convent are
+familiar to all memories--their lodging of the gentlemen of a party in
+cells of their own monastic privilege, and giving to the ladies less
+sacred hospitalities, in a secular building of meaner and
+unconsecrated architecture. (So, oh, mortifying brotherhood, you shut
+off your only chance of entertaining angels unaware!)
+
+Not permitted to eat with the ladies while on the holy mountain, Mr.
+Wangrave and his secretary, and Palgray and I, fed at the table with
+the aristocratic monks--(for they are the aristocrats of European
+holiness, these monks of Vallambrosa.) It was somewhat a relief to me,
+to be separated with my rival from the party in the feminine
+refectory, even for the short space of a meal-time; for the all-day
+suffering of presence with an unconscious trampler on my
+heart-strings; and in circumstances where all the triumphs were his
+own, were more than my intangible hold upon hope could well enable me
+to bear. I was happiest, therefore, when I was out of the presence of
+her to be near whom was all for which my life was worth having; and
+when we sat down at the long and bare table, with the thoughtful and
+ashen-cowled company, sad as I was, it was an opiate sadness--a
+suspension from self-mastery, under torture which others took to be
+pleasure.
+
+The temperature of the mountain-air was just such as to invite us to
+never enter doors except to eat and sleep; and breakfasting at
+convent-hours, we passed the long day in rambling up the ravines and
+through the sombre forests, drawing, botanizing, and conversing in
+group around some spot of exquisite natural beauty; and all of the
+party, myself excepted, supposing it to be the un-dissenting, common
+desire to contrive opportunity for the love-making of Palgray and
+Stephania. And, bitter though it was, in each particular instance, to
+accept a hint from one and another, and stroll off, leaving the
+confessed lovers alone by some musical water-fall, or in the secluded
+and twilight dimness of some curve in an overhanging ravine--places
+where only to breathe is to love--I still felt an instinctive
+prompting to rather anticipate than wait for these reminders, she
+alone knowing what it cost me to be without her in that delicious
+wilderness; and Palgray, as well as I could judge, having a mind out
+of harmony with both the wilderness and her.
+
+He loved her--loved her as well as most women need to be, or know that
+they can be loved. But he was too happy, too prosperous, too
+universally beloved, to love well. He was a man, with all his beauty,
+more likely to be fascinating to his own sex than to hers, for the
+women who love best, do not love in the character they live in; and
+his out-of-doors heart, whose joyfulness was so contagious, and whose
+bold impulses were so manly and open, contented itself with gay
+homage, and left unplummeted the sweetest as well as deepest wells of
+the thoughtful tenderness of woman.
+
+To most observers, Stephania Wangrave would have seemed only born to
+be gay--the mere habit of being happy having made its life-long
+imprint upon her expression of countenance, and all of her nature,
+that would be legible to a superficial reader, being brought out by
+the warm translucence of her smiles. But while I had seen this, in the
+first hour of my study of her, I was too advanced in my knowledge (of
+such works of nature as encroach on the models of Heaven) not to know
+this to be a light veil over a picture of melancholy meaning. Sadness
+was the tone of her mind's inner coloring. Tears were the
+subterranean river upon which her soul's bark floated with the most
+loved freight of her thought's accumulation--the sunny waters of joy,
+where alone she was thought to voyage, being the tide on which her
+heart embarked no venture, and which seemed to her triflingly garish
+and even profaning to the hallowed delicacy of the inner nature.
+
+It was so strange to me that Palgray did not see this through every
+lineament of her marvelous beauty. There was a glow under her skin,
+but no color--an effect of paleness--fair as the lotus-leaf, but
+warmer and brighter, and which came through the alabaster fineness of
+the grain, like something the eye cannot define, but which we know by
+some spirit-perception to be the effluence of purer existence, the
+breathing through, as it were, of the luminous tenanting of an angel.
+To this glowing paleness, with golden hair, I never had seen united
+any but a disposition of predominant melancholy; and it seemed to me
+dull indeed otherwise to read it. But there were other betrayals of
+the same inner nature of Stephania. Her lips, cut with the fine
+tracery of the penciling upon a tulip-cup, were of a slender and
+delicate fullness, expressive of a mind which took--(of the
+senses)--only so much life as would hold down the spirit during its
+probation; and when this spiritual mouth was at rest, no painter has
+ever drawn lips on which lay more of the unutterable pensiveness of
+beauty which we dream to have been Mary's, in the childhood of Jesus.
+A tear in the heart was the instinctive answer to Stephania's every
+look when she did not smile; and her large, soft, slowly-lifting eyes,
+were to any elevated perception, it seemed to me, most eloquent of
+tenderness as tearful as it was unfathomable and angelic.
+
+I shall have failed, however, in portraying truly the being of whom I
+am thus privileged to hold the likeness in my memory, if the reader
+fancies her to have nurtured her pensive disposition at the expense of
+a just value for real life, or a full development of womanly feelings.
+It was a peculiarity of her beauty, to my eye, that, with all her
+earnest leaning toward a thoughtful existence, there did not seem to
+be one vein beneath her pearly skin, not one wavy line in her
+faultless person, that did not lend its proportionate consciousness to
+her breathing sense of life. Her bust was of the slightest fullness
+which the sculptor would choose for the embodying of his ideal of the
+best blending of modesty with complete beauty; and her throat and
+arms--oh, with what an inexpressible pathos of loveliness, so to
+speak, was moulded, under an infantine dewiness of surface, their
+delicate undulations. No one could be in her presence without
+acknowledging the perfection of her form as a woman, and rendering the
+passionate yet subdued homage which the purest beauty fulfills its
+human errand by inspiring; but, while Palgray made the halo which
+surrounded her outward beauty the whole orbit of his appreciation, and
+made of it, too, the measure of the circle of topics he chose to talk
+upon, there was still another and far wider ring of light about her,
+which he lived in too dazzling a gayety of his own to see--a halo of
+a mind more beautiful than the body which shut it in; and in this
+intellectual orbit of guidance to interchange of mind, with manifold
+deeper and higher reach than Palgray's, upon whatever topic chanced to
+occur, revolved I, around her who was the loveliest and most gifted of
+all the human beings I had been privileged to meet.
+
+
+
+
+PART IV.
+
+
+The month was expiring at Vallambrosa, but I had not mingled, for that
+length of time, with a fraternity of thoughtful men, without
+recognition of some of that working of spontaneous and elective
+magnetism to which I have alluded in a previous part of this story.
+Opposite me, at the table of the convent refectory, had sat a taciturn
+monk, whose influence I felt from the first day--a stronger
+consciousness of his presence, that is to say, than of any one of the
+other monks--though he did not seem particularly to observe me, and
+till recently had scarce spoken to me at all. He was a man of perhaps
+fifty years of age, with the countenance of one who had suffered and
+gained a victory of contemplation--a look as if no suffering could be
+new to him, and before whom no riddle of human vicissitudes could stay
+unread; but over all this penetration and sagacity was diffused a cast
+of genial philanthropy and good-fellowship which told of his
+forgiveness of the world for what he had suffered in it. With a
+curiosity more at leisure, I should have sought him out, and joined
+him in his walks to know more of him; but spiritually acquainted
+though I felt we had become, I was far too busy with head and heart
+for any intercourse, except it had a bearing on the struggle for love
+that I was, to all appearance, so hopelessly making.
+
+Preparations were beginning for departure, and with the morrow, or the
+day after, I was to take my way to Venice--my friends bound to
+Switzerland and England, and propriety not permitting me to seek
+another move in their company. The evening on which this was made
+clear to me, was one of those continuations of day into night made by
+the brightness of a full Italian moon; and Palgray, whose face,
+troubled, for the first time, betrayed to me that he was at a crisis
+of his fate with Stephania, evidently looked forward to this glowing
+night as the favorable atmosphere in which he might urge his suit,
+with nature pleading in his behalf. The reluctance and evident
+irresolution of his daughter puzzled Mr. Wangrave--for he had no doubt
+that she loved Palgray, and his education of her head and heart gave
+him no clue to any principle of coquettishness, or willingness to give
+pain, for the pleasure of an exercise of power. Her mother, and all
+the members of the party, were aware of the mystery that hung over the
+suit of the young guardsman, but they were all alike discreet, while
+distressed, and confined their interference to the removal of
+obstacles in the way of the lovers being together, and the avoidance
+of any topics gay enough to change the key of her spirits from the
+natural softness of the evening.
+
+Vespers were over, and the sad-colored figures of the monks were
+gliding indolently here and there, and Stephania, with Palgray beside
+her, stood a little apart from the group at the door of the secular
+refectory, looking off at the fading purple of the sunset. I could not
+join her without crossing rudely the obvious wishes of every person
+present; yet for the last two days, I had scarce found the opportunity
+to exchange a word with her, and my emotion now was scarce
+controllable. The happier lover beside her, with his features
+heightened in expression (as I thought they never could be) by his
+embarrassment in wooing, was evidently and irresistibly the object of
+her momentary admiration. He offered her his arm, and made a movement
+toward the path off into the forest. There was an imploring deference
+infinitely becoming in his manner, and see it she must, with pride and
+pleasure. She hesitated--gave a look to where I stood, which explained
+to me better than a world of language, that she had wished at least to
+speak to me on this last evening--and, before the dimness over my eyes
+had passed away, they were gone. Oh! pitying Heaven! give me never
+again, while wrapt in mortal weakness, so harsh a pang to suffer.
+
+
+
+
+PART V.
+
+
+The convent-bell struck midnight, and there was a foot-fall in the
+cloister. I was startled by it out of an entire forgetfulness of all
+around me, for I was lying on my bed in the monastery cell, with my
+hands clasped over my eyes, as I had thrown myself down on coming in;
+and, with a strange contrariety, my mind, broken rudely from its hope,
+had flown to my far away home, oblivious of the benumbed links that
+lay between. A knock at my door completed the return to my despair,
+for with a look at the walls of my little chamber, in the bright beam
+of moonlight that streamed in at the narrow window, I was, by
+recognition, again at Vallambrosa, and Stephania, with an accepted
+lover's voice in her ear, was again near me, her moistened eyes
+steeped with Palgray's in the same beam of the all-visiting and
+unbetraying moon.
+
+Father Ludovic entered. The gentle tone of his _benedicite_, told me
+that he had come on an errand of sympathy. There was little need of
+preliminary between two who read the inner countenance as habitually
+as did both of us; and as briefly as the knowledge and present feeling
+of each could be re-expressed in words, we confirmed the
+spirit-mingling that had brought him there, and were presently as one.
+He had read truly the drama of love, enacting in the party of visiters
+to his convent, but his judgment of the possible termination of it was
+different from mine.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+Palgray's dormitory was at the extremity of the cloister, and we
+presently heard him pass.
+
+"She is alone, now," said Father Ludovic, "I will send you to her."
+
+My mind had strained to Stephania's presence with the first footsteps
+that told me of their separation; and it needed but a wave of his hand
+to unlink the spirit-wings from my weary frame. I was present with
+her.
+
+I struggled for a moment, but in vain, to see her face. Its expression
+was as visible as my hand in the sun, but no feature. The mind I had
+read was close to me, in a presence of consciousness; and, in points,
+here and there, brighter, bolder, and further-reaching than I had
+altogether believed. She was unutterably pure--a spirit without a
+spot--and I remained near her with a feeling as if my forehead were
+pressed down to the palms of my hands, in homage mixed with sorrow,
+for I should have more recognized this in my waking study of her
+nature.
+
+A moment more--a trembling effort, as if to read what were written to
+record my companionship for eternity--and a vague image of myself came
+out in shadow--clearer now, and still clearer, enlarging to the
+fullness of her mind. She thought wholly and only of that image I then
+saw, yet with a faint coloring playing to and from it, as influences
+came in from the outer world. Her eyes were turned in upon it in lost
+contemplation. But suddenly a new thought broke upon me. I saw my
+image, but it was not I, as I looked to myself. The type of my
+countenance was there; but, oh, transformed to an ideal, such as I
+now, for the first time, saw possible--ennobled in every defective
+line--purified of its taint from worldliness--inspired with high
+aspirations--cleared of what it had become cankered with, in its
+transmission through countless generations since first sent into the
+world, and restored to a likeness of the angel of whose illuminated
+lineaments it was first a copy. So thought Stephania of me. Thus did
+she believe I truly was. Oh! blessed, and yet humiliating, trust of
+woman! Oh! comparison of true and ideal, at which spirits must look
+out of heaven, and of which they must long, with aching pity, to make
+us thus rebukingly aware!
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+I felt myself withdrawing from Stephania's presence. There were tears
+between us, which I could not see. I strove to remain, but a stronger
+power than my will was at work within me. I felt my heart swell with a
+gasp, as if death were bearing out of it the principle of life; and my
+head dropped on the pillow of my bed.
+
+"Good night, my son," said the low voice of Father Ludovic, "I have
+willed that you should remember what you have seen. Be worthy of her
+love, for there are few like her."
+
+He closed the door, and as the glide of his sandals died away in the
+echoing cloisters, I leaned forth to spread my expanding heart in the
+upward and boundless light of the moon--for I seemed to wish never
+again to lose in the wasteful forgetfulness of sleep, the
+consciousness that I was loved by Stephania.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+I was journeying the next day, alone, toward Venice. I had left
+written adieux for the party at Vallambrosa, pleading to my friends an
+unwillingness to bear the pain of a formal separation. Betwixt
+midnight and morning, however, I had written a parting letter for
+Stephania, which I had committed to the kind envoying of Father
+Ludovic, and thus it ran:--
+
+         "When you read this, Stephania, I shall be alone
+         with the thought of you, traveling a reluctant
+         road, but still with a burthen in my heart which
+         will bring me to you again, and which even now
+         envelopes my pang of separation in a veil of
+         happiness. I have been blessed by Heaven's mercy
+         with the power to know that you love me. Were you
+         not what you are, I could not venture to startle
+         you thus with a truth which, perhaps, you have
+         hardly confessed in waking reality to yourself; but
+         you are one of those who are coy of no truth that
+         could be found to have lain without alarm in your
+         own bosom, and, with those beloved hands pressed
+         together with the earnestness of the clasp of
+         prayer, you will say, 'yes! I love him!'
+
+         "I leave you, now, not to put our love to trial,
+         and still less in the ordinary meaning of the
+         phrase, to prepare to wed you. The first is little
+         needed, angels in heaven well know. The second is a
+         thought which will be in time, when I have done the
+         work on which I am newly bent by the inspiration of
+         love--_the making myself what you think me to be_.
+         Oh, Stephania! to feel encouraged, as God has given
+         me strength to feel, that I may yet be this--that I
+         may yet bring you a soul brought up to the standard
+         you have raised, and achieve it by effort in
+         self-denial, and by the works of honor and goodness
+         that are as possible to a man in obscurity and
+         poverty as to his brother in wealth and
+         distinction--this is to me new life, boundless
+         enlargement of sphere, food for a love of which,
+         alas! I was not before worthy.
+
+         "I have told you unreservedly what my station in
+         life is--what my hopes are, and what career I had
+         marked out for struggle. I shall go on with the
+         career, though the prizes I then mentally saw have
+         since faded in value almost as much as my purpose
+         is strengthened. Fame and wealth, my pure,
+         Stephania, are to you as they now can only be to
+         me, larger trusts of service and duty; and if I
+         hope they will come while other aims are sought, it
+         is because they will confer happiness on parents
+         and friends who mistakenly suppose them necessary
+         to the winner of your heart. I hope to bring them
+         to you. I know that I shall come as welcome without
+         them.
+
+         "While I write--while my courage and hope throb
+         loud in the pulses of my bosom--I can think even
+         happily of separation. To leave you, the better to
+         return, is bearable--even pleasurable--to the
+         heart's noonday mood. But I have been steeped for a
+         summer, now, in a presence of visible and breathing
+         loveliness, (that you cannot forbid me to speak of,
+         since language is too poor to out-color truth,) and
+         there will come moments of depression--twilights of
+         deepening and undivided loneliness--hours of
+         illness, perhaps--and times of discouragement and
+         adverse cloudings over of Providence--when I shall
+         need to be remembered with sympathy, and to know
+         that I am so remembered. I do not ask you to write
+         to me. It would entail difficulties upon you, and
+         put between us an interchange of uncertainties and
+         possible misunderstandings. But I can communicate
+         with you by a surer medium, if you will grant a
+         request. The habits of your family are such that
+         you can, for the first hour after midnight, be
+         always alone. Waking or sleeping, there will then
+         be a thought of me occupying your heart, and--call
+         it a fancy if you will--I can come and read it on
+         the viewless wings of the soul.
+
+         "I commend your inexpressible earthly beauty, dear
+         Stephania, and your still brighter loveliness of
+         soul, to God's angel, who has never left you.
+         Farewell! You will see me when I am worthy of
+         you--if it be necessary that it should be first in
+         heaven, made so by forgiveness there.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_Cell of St. Eusebius, Vallambrosa--day-breaking_."
+
+
+
+
+A BUTTERFLY IN THE CITY.
+
+BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
+
+
+    Dear transient spirit of the fields,
+      Thou com'st, without distrust,
+    To fan the sunshine of our streets
+      Among the noise and dust.
+
+    Thou leadest in thy wavering flight
+      My footsteps unaware,
+    Until I seem to walk the vales
+      And breathe thy native air.
+
+    And thou hast fed upon the flowers,
+      And drained their honied springs,
+    Till every tender hue they wore
+      Is blooming on thy wings.
+
+    I bless the fresh and flowery light
+      Thou bringest to the town,
+    But tremble lest the hot turmoil
+      Have power to weigh thee down;
+
+    For thou art like the poet's song,
+      Arrayed in holiest dyes,
+    Though it hath drained the honied wells
+      Of flowers of Paradise;
+
+    Though it hath brought celestial hues
+      To light the ways of life,
+    The dust shall weigh its pinions down
+      Amid the noisy strife.
+
+    And yet, perchance, some kindred soul
+      Shall see its glory shine,
+    And feel its wings within his heart
+      As bright as I do thine.
+
+
+
+
+THE RIVAL SISTERS.
+
+AN ENGLISH TRAGEDY OF REAL LIFE.
+
+BY HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT, AUTHOR OF "THE ROMAN TRAITOR,"
+"MARMADUKE WYVIL," ETC.
+
+(_Concluded from page 22_.)
+
+
+PART II.
+
+
+A lovely summer's evening in the year 168-, was drawing toward its
+close, when many a gay and brilliant cavalcade of both sexes, many of
+the huge gilded coaches of that day, and many a train of liveried
+attendants, winding through the green lane, as they arrived, some in
+this direction from Eton, some in that, across Datchet-mead, from
+Windsor, and its royal castle, came thronging toward Ditton-in-the-Dale.
+
+Lights were beginning to twinkle, as the shadows fell thick among the
+arcades of the trim gardens, and the wilder forest-walks which
+extended their circuitous course for many a mile along the stately
+hall of the Fitz-Henries; loud bursts of festive or of martial music
+came pealing down the wind, mixed with the hum of a gay and happy
+concourse, causing the nightingales to hold their peace, not in
+despair of rivaling the melody, but that the mirth jarred unpleasantly
+on the souls of the melancholy birds.
+
+The gates of Ditton-in-the-Dale were flung wide open, for it was gala
+night, and never had the old hall put on a gayer or more sumptuous
+show than it had donned that evening.
+
+From far and near the gentry and the nobles of Buckingham and
+Berkshire had gathered to the birth-day ball--for such was the occasion
+of the festive meeting.
+
+Yes! it was Blanche Fitz-Henry's birth-day; and on this gay and glad
+anniversary was the fair heiress of that noble house to be introduced
+to the great world as the future owner of those beautiful demesnes.
+
+From the roof to the foundation the old manor-house--it was a stately
+red brick mansion of the latter period of Elizabethan architecture,
+with mullioned windows, and stacks of curiously wreathed chimneys--was
+one blaze of light; and as group after group of gay and high-born
+riders came caracoling up to the hospitable porch, and coach after
+coach, with its running footmen, or mounted outriders lumbered slowly
+in their train, the saloons and corridors began to fill up rapidly,
+with a joyous and splendid company.
+
+The entrance-hall, a vast square apartment, wainscoted with old
+English oak, brighter and richer in its dark hues than mahogany,
+received the entering guests; and what with the profusion of
+wax-lights, pendant in gorgeous chandeliers from the carved roof, or
+fixed in silver sconces to the walls, the gay festoons of green
+wreaths and fresh summer flowers, mixed quaintly with old armor,
+blazoned shields, and rustling banners, some of which had waved over
+the thirsty plains of Syria, and been fanned by the shouts of triumph
+that pealed so high at Cressy and Poitiers, it presented a not unapt
+picture of that midway period--that halting-place, as it were, between
+the old world and the new--when chivalry and feudalism had ceased
+already to exist among the nations, but before the rudeness of reform
+had banished the last remnants of courtesy, and the reverence for all
+things that were high and noble--for all things that were fair and
+graceful--for all things, in one word, except the golden calf, the
+mob-worshiped mammon.
+
+Within this stately hall was drawn up in glittering array, the
+splendid band of the Life Guards, for royally himself was present, and
+all the officers of that superb regiment, quartered at Windsor, had
+followed in his train; and as an ordinary courtesy to their
+well-proved and loyal host, the services of those chosen musicians had
+been tendered and accepted.
+
+Through many a dazzling corridor, glittering with lights, and redolent
+of choicest perfumes, through many a fair saloon the guests were
+marshaled to the great drawing-room, where, beneath a canopy of state,
+the ill-advised and imbecile monarch, soon to be deserted by the very
+princes and princesses who now clustered round his throne, sat, with
+his host and his lovely daughters at his right hand, accepting the
+homage of the fickle crowd, who were within a little year to bow
+obsequiously to the cold-blooded Hollander.
+
+That was a day of singular, and what would now be termed hideous
+costumes--a day of hair-powder and patches, of hoops and trains, of
+stiff brocades and tight-laced stomachers, and high-heeled shoes among
+the ladies--of flowing periwigs, and coats with huge cuffs and no
+collars, and voluminous skirts, of diamond-hilted rapiers, and diamond
+buckles, ruffles of Valenciennes and Mecklin lace, among the ruder
+sex. And though the individual might be metamorphosed strangely from
+the fair form which nature gave him, it cannot be denied that the
+concourse of highly-bred and graceful persons, when viewed as a whole,
+was infinitely more picturesque, infinitely more like what the fancy
+paints a meeting of the great and noble, than any assemblage
+now-a-days, however courtly or refined, in which the stiff dress coats
+and white neckcloths of the men are not to be redeemed by the Parisian
+finery--how much more natural, let critics tell, than the hoop and
+train--of the fair portion of the company.
+
+The rich materials, the gay colors, the glittering jewelry, and waving
+plumes, all contributed their part to the splendor of the show; and in
+those days a gentleman possessed at least this advantage, lost to him
+in these practical utilitarian times, that he could not by any
+possibility be mistaken for his own _valet de chambre_--a misfortune
+which has befallen many a one, the most aristocratic not excepted, of
+modern nobility.
+
+A truly graceful person will be graceful, and look well in every garb,
+however strange or _outré_; and there is, moreover, undoubtedly
+something, apart from any paltry love of finery, or mere vanity of
+person, which elevates the thoughts, and stamps a statelier demeanor
+on the man who is clad highly for some high occasion. The custom, too,
+of wearing arms, peculiar to the gentleman of that day, had its
+effect, and that not a slight one, as well on the character as on the
+bearing of the individual so distinguished.
+
+As for the ladies, loveliness will still be loveliness, disguise it as
+you may; and if the beauties of King James's court lost much by the
+travesty of their natural ringlets, they gained, perhaps, yet more
+from the increased lustre of their complexions and brilliancy of their
+eyes.
+
+So that it is far from being the case, as is commonly supposed, that
+it was owing to fashion alone, and the influence of all powerful
+custom, that the costume of that day was not tolerated only, but
+admired by its wearers.
+
+At this time, however, the use of hair-powder, though general, was by
+no means universal; and many beauties, who fancied that it did not
+suit their complexions, dispensed with it altogether, or wore it in
+some modified shape, and tinged with some coloring matter, which
+assimilated it more closely to the natural tints of the hair.
+
+At all events, it must have been a dull eye, and a cold heart, that
+could have looked undelighted on the assemblage that night gathered in
+the ball-room of Ditton-in-the-Dale.
+
+But now the reception was finished; the royal party moved into the
+ball-room, from which they shortly afterward retired, leaving the
+company at liberty from the restraint which their presence had imposed
+upon them. The concourse broke up into little groups; the stately
+minuet was performed, and livelier dances followed it; and gentlemen
+sighed tender sighs, and looked unutterable things; and ladies
+listened to soft nonsense, and smiled gentle approbation; and melting
+glances were exchanged, and warm hands were pressed warmly; and fans
+were flirted angrily, and flippant jokes were interchanged--for human
+nature, whether in the seventeeth or the nineteenth century, whether
+arrayed in brocade, or simply dressed in broadcloth, is human nature
+still; and, perhaps, not one feeling, or one passion, that actuated
+man's or woman's heart five hundred years ago, but dwells within it
+now, and shall dwell unchanged forever.
+
+It needs not to say that, on such an occasion, in their own father's
+mansion, and at the celebration of one sister's birth-day, Blanche and
+Agnes, had their attractions been much smaller, their pretensions much
+more lowly than they really were, would have received boundless
+attention. But being as they were infinitely the finest girls in the
+room, and being, moreover, new _debutantes_ on the stage of fashion,
+there was no limit to the admiration, to the _furor_ which they
+excited among the wits and lady-killers of the day.
+
+Many an antiquated Miss, proud of past conquests, and unable yet to
+believe that her career of triumph was, indeed, ended, would turn up
+an envious nose, and utter a sharp sneer at the forwardness and hoyden
+mirth of that pert Mistress Agnes, or at the coldness and inanimate
+smile of the fair heiress; but the sneer, even were it the sneer of a
+duke's or a minister's daughter, fell harmless, or yet worse, drew
+forth a prompt defence of the unjustly assailed beauty.
+
+No greater proof could be adduced, indeed, of the amazing success of
+the sister beauties, than the unanimous decision of every lady in the
+room numbering less than forty years, that they were by no means
+uncommon; were pretty country hoppets, who, as soon as the novelty of
+their first appearance should have worn out, would cease to be
+admired, and sink back into their proper sphere of insignificance.
+
+So thought not the gentle cavaliers; and there were many present
+there, well qualified to judge of ladies' minds as of ladies' persons;
+and not a few were heard to swear aloud, that the Fitz-Henries were as
+far above the rest of their sex in wit, and graceful accomplishment,
+as in beauty of form and face, and elegance of motion.
+
+See! they are dancing now some gay, newly invented, Spanish dance,
+each whirling through the voluptuous mazes of the courtly measure with
+her own characteristic air and manner, each evidently pleased with her
+partner, each evidently charming him in turn; and the two together
+enchaining all eyes, and interesting all spectators, so that a gentle
+hum of approbation is heard running through the crowd, as they pause,
+blushing and panting from the exertion and excitement of the dance.
+
+"Fore Gad! she is exquisite, George! I have seen nothing like her in
+my time," lisped a superb coxcomb, attired in a splendid civilian's
+suit of Pompadour and silver, to a young cornet of the Life Guard who
+stood beside him.
+
+"Which _she_, my lord?" inquired the standard-bearer, in reply.
+"Methinks they both deserve your encomiums; but I would fain know
+which of the two your lordship means, for fame speaks you a dangerous
+rival against whom to enter the lists."
+
+"What, George!" cried the other, gayly, "are you about to have a throw
+for the heiress? Pshaw! it wont do, man--never think of it! Why,
+though you are an earl's second son, and date your creation from the
+days of Hump-backed Dickon, old Allan would vote you a _novus homo_,
+as we used to say at Christ Church. Pshaw! George, go hang yourself!
+No one has a chance of winning that fair loveliness, much less of
+wearing her, unless he can quarter Sir Japhet's bearings on his coat
+armorial."
+
+"It _is_ the heiress, then, my lord," answered George Delawarr,
+merrily. "I thought as much from the first. Well, I'll relieve your
+lordship, as you have relieved me, from all fear of rivalry. I am
+devoted to the dark beauty. Egad! there's life, there's fire for you!
+Why, I should have thought the flash of that eye-glance would have
+reduced Jack Greville to cinders in a moment, yet there he stands, as
+calm and impassive a puppy as ever dangled a plumed hat, or played
+with a sword-knot. Your fair beauty's cold, my lord. Give me that
+Italian complexion, and that coal-black hair! Gad zooks! I honor the
+girl's spirit for not disguising it with starch and pomatum. There's
+more passion in her little finger, than in the whole soul of the
+other."
+
+"You're out there, George Delawarr," returned the peer. "Trust me, it
+is not always the quickest flame that burns the strongest; nor the
+liveliest girl that feels the most deeply. There's an old saying, and
+a true one, that still water aye runs deep. And, trust me, if I know
+any thing of the dear, delicious, devilish sex, as methinks I am not
+altogether a novice at the trade, if ever Blanche Fitz-Henry love at
+all, she will love with her whole soul and heart and spirit. That gay,
+laughing brunette will love you with her tongue, her eyes, her head,
+and perhaps her fancy--the other, if, as I say, she ever love at all,
+will love with her whole being."
+
+"The broad acres! my lord! all the broad acres!" replied the cornet,
+laughing more merrily than before. "Fore Gad! I think it the very
+thing for you. For the first Lord St. George was, I believe, in the
+ark with Noah, so that you will pass current with the first gentleman
+of England. I prithee, my lord, push your suit, and help me on a
+little with my dark Dulcinea."
+
+"Faith! George, I've no objection; and see, this dance is over. Let us
+go up and ask their fair hands. You'll have no trouble in ousting that
+shallow-pated puppy Jack, and I think I can put the pass on Mr.
+privy-counsellor there, although he is simpering so prettily. But,
+hold a moment, have you been duly and in form presented to your
+black-eyed beauty?"
+
+"Upon my soul! I hope so, my lord. It were very wrong else; for I have
+danced with her three times to-night already."
+
+"The devil! Well, come along, quick. I see that they are going to
+announce supper, so soon as this next dance shall be ended; and if we
+can engage them now, we shall have their fair company for an hour at
+least."
+
+"I am with you, my lord!"
+
+And away they sauntered through the crowd, and ere long were coupled
+for a little space each to the lady of his choice.
+
+The dance was soon over, and then, as Lord St. George had surmised,
+supper was announced, and the cavaliers led their ladies to the
+sumptuous board, and there attended them with all that courtly and
+respectful service, which, like many another good thing, has passed
+away and been forgotten with the diamond-hilted sword, and the full
+bottomed periwig.
+
+George Delawarr was full as ever of gay quips and merry repartees; his
+wit was as sparkling as the champagne which in some degree inspired
+it, and as innocent. There was no touch of bitterness or satire in his
+polished and gentle humor; no envy or dislike pointed his quick,
+epigrammatic speech; but all was clear, light, and transparent, as the
+sunny air at noonday. Nor was his conversation altogether light and
+mirthful. There were at times bursts of high enthusiasm, at which he
+would himself laugh heartily a moment afterward--there were touches of
+passing romance and poetry blending in an under-current with his
+fluent mirth; and, above all, there was an evident strain of right
+feeling, of appreciation of all that was great and generous and good,
+predominant above romance and wit, perceptible in every word he
+uttered.
+
+And Agnes listened, and laughed, and flung back skillfully and
+cleverly the ball of conversation, as he tossed it to her. She was
+pleased, it was evident, and amused. But she was pleased only as with
+a clever actor, a brilliant performer on some new instrument now heard
+for the first time. The gay, wild humor of the young man hit her
+fancy; his mad wit struck a kindred chord in her mind; but the latent
+poetry and romance passed unheeded, and the noblest point of all, the
+good and gracious feelings, made no impression on the polished but
+hard surface of the bright maiden's heart.
+
+Meantime, how fared the peer with the calmer and gentler sister? Less
+brilliant than George Delawarr, he had traveled much, had seen more of
+men and things, had a more cultivated mind, was more of a scholar, and
+no less of a gentleman, scarce less perhaps of a soldier; for he had
+served a campaign or two in his early youth in the Low Countries.
+
+He was a noble and honorable man, clever, and eloquent, and well
+esteemed--a little, perhaps, spoiled by that good esteem, a little too
+confident of himself, too conscious of his own good mien and good
+parts, and a little hardened, if very much polished, by continual
+contact with the world.
+
+He was, however, an easy and agreeable talker, accustomed to the
+society of ladies, in which he was held to shine, and fond of shining.
+He exerted himself also that night, partly because he was really
+struck with Blanche's grace and beauty, partly because Delawarr's
+liveliness and wit excited him to a sort of playful rivalry.
+
+Still, he was not successful; for though Blanche listened graciously,
+and smiled in the right places, and spoke in answer pleasantly and
+well, when she did speak, and evidently wished to appear and to be
+amused; her mind was at times absent and distracted, and it could not
+long escape the observation of so thorough a man of the world as Lord
+St. George, that he had not made that impression on the young country
+damsel which he was wont to make, with one half the effort, on what
+might be supposed more difficult ladies.
+
+But though he saw this plainly, he was too much of a gentleman to be
+either piqued or annoyed; and if any thing he exerted himself the more
+to please, when he believed exertion useless; and by degrees his
+gentle partner laid aside her abstraction, and entered into the spirit
+of the hour with something of her sister's mirth, though with a
+quieter and more chastened tone.
+
+It was a pleasant party, and a merry evening; but like all other
+things, merry or sad, it had its end, and passed away, and by many was
+forgotten; but there were two persons present there who never while
+they lived forgot that evening--for there were other two, to whom it
+was indeed the commencement of the end.
+
+But the hour for parting had arrived, and with the ceremonious
+greetings of those days, deep bows and stately courtesies, and kissing
+of fair hands, and humble requests to be permitted to pay their duty
+on the following day, the cavaliers and ladies parted.
+
+When the two gallants stood together in the great hall, George
+Delawarr turned suddenly to the peer--
+
+"Where the deuce are you going to sleep to-night, St. George? You came
+down hither all the way from London, did you not? You surely do not
+mean to return to-night."
+
+"I surely do not _wish_ it, you mean, George. No, truly. But I do mean
+it. For my fellows tell me that there is not a bed to be had for love,
+which does not at all surprise me, or for money, which I confess does
+somewhat, in Eton, Slough, or Windsor. And if I must go back to
+Brentford or to Hounslow, as well at once to London."
+
+"Come with me! Come with me, St. George. I can give you quarters in
+the barracks, and a good breakfast, and a game of tennis if you will;
+and afterward, if you like, we'll ride over and see how these
+bright-eyed beauties look by daylight, after all this night-work."
+
+"A good offer, George, and I'll take it as it is offered."
+
+"How are you here? In a great lumbering coach I suppose. Well, look
+you, I have got two horses here; you shall take mine, and I'll ride on
+my fellow's, who shall go with your people and pilot them on the road,
+else they'll be getting that great gilded Noah's ark into
+Datchet-ditch. Have you got any tools? Ay! ay! I see you travel well
+equipped, if you do ride in your coach. Now your riding-cloak, the
+nights are damp here, by the river-side, even in summer; oh! never
+mind your pistols, you'll find a brace in my holsters, genuine
+Kuchenreuters. I can hit a crown piece with them, for a hundred
+guineas, at fifty paces."
+
+"Heaven send that you never shoot at me with them, if that's the case,
+George."
+
+"Heaven send that I never shoot at any one, my lord, unless it be an
+enemy of my king and country, and in open warfare; for so certainly as
+I do shoot I shall kill."
+
+"I do not doubt you, George. But let's be off. The lights are burning
+low in the sockets, and these good fellows are evidently tired out
+with their share of our festivity. Fore Gad! I believe we are the
+last of the guests."
+
+And with the word, the young men mounted joyously, and galloped away
+at the top of their horses' speed to the quarters of the life-guard in
+Windsor.
+
+Half an hour after their departure, the two sisters sat above stairs
+in a pleasant chamber, disrobing themselves, with the assistance of
+their maidens, of the cumbrous and stiff costumes of the ball-room,
+and jesting merrily over the events of the evening.
+
+"Well, Blanche," said Agnes archly, "confess, siss, who is the lord
+paramount, the beau _par excellence_, of the ball? I know, you demure
+puss! After all, it is ever the quiet cat that licks the cream. But to
+think that on your very first night you should have made such a
+conquest. So difficult, too, to please, they say, and all the great
+court ladies dying for him."
+
+"Hush! madcap. I don't know who you mean. At all events, I have not
+danced four dances in one evening with one cavalier. Ah! have I caught
+you, pretty mistress?"
+
+"Oh! that was only _poor_ George Delawarr. A paltry cornet in the
+guards. He will do well enough to have dangling after one, to play
+with, while he amuses one--but fancy, being proud of conquering poor
+George! His namesake with the Saint before it were worth a score of
+such."
+
+"Fie, sister!" said Blanche, gravely. "I do not love to hear you talk
+so. I am sure he's a very pretty gentleman, and has twice as much head
+as my lord, if I'm not mistaken; and three times as much heart."
+
+"Heart, indeed, siss! Much you know about hearts, I fancy. But, now
+that you speak of it, I _will_ try if he has got a heart. If he has,
+he will do well to pique some more eligible--"
+
+"Oh! Agnes, Agnes! I cannot hear you--"
+
+"Pshaw!" interrupted the younger sister, very bitterly, "this
+affectation of sentiment and disinterestedness sits very prettily on
+the heiress of Ditton-in-the-Dale, Long Netherby, and Waltham Ferrers,
+three manors, and ten thousand pounds a year to buy a bridegroom! Poor
+I, with my face for my fortune, must needs make my wit eke out my want
+of dowry. And I'm not one, I promise you, siss, to choose love in a
+cottage. No, no! Give me your Lord St. George, and I'll make over all
+my right and title to poor George Delawarr this minute. Heigho! I
+believe the fellow is smitten with me after all. Well, well! I'll have
+some fun with him before I have done yet."
+
+"Agnes," said Blanche, gravely, but reproachfully, "I have long seen
+that you are light, and careless whom you wound with your wild words,
+but I never thought before that you were bad-hearted."
+
+"Bad-hearted, sister!"
+
+"Yes! bad-hearted! To speak to me of manors, or of money, as if for
+fifty wills, or five hundred fathers, I would ever profit by a
+parent's whim to rob my sister of her portion. As if I would not
+rather lie in the cold grave, than that my sister should have a wish
+ungratified, which I had power to gratify, much less that she should
+narrow down the standard of her choice--the holiest and most sacred
+thing on earth--to the miserable scale of wealth and title. Out upon
+it! out upon it! Never, while you live, speak so to me again!"
+
+"Sister, I never will. I did not mean it, sister, dear," cried Agnes,
+now much affected, as she saw how vehemently Blanche was moved. "You
+should not heed me. You know my wild, rash way, and how I speak
+whatever words come first."
+
+"Those were very meaning words, Agnes--and very bitter, too. They cut
+me to the heart," cried the fair girl, bursting into a flood of
+passionate tears.
+
+"Oh! do not--do not, Blanche. Forgive me, dearest! Indeed, indeed, I
+meant nothing!"
+
+"Forgive you, Agnes! I have nothing to forgive. I was not even angry,
+but pained, but sorry for you, sister; for sure I am, that if you give
+way to this bitter, jealous spirit, you will work much anguish to
+yourself, and to all those who love you."
+
+"Jealous, Blanche!"
+
+"Yes, Agnes, jealous! But let us say no more. Let this pass, and be
+forgotten; but never, dear girl, if you love me, as I think you do,
+never _so_ speak to me again."
+
+"I never, never will." And she fell upon her neck, and kissed her
+fondly, as her heart relented, and she felt something of sincere
+repentance for the harsh words which she had spoken, and the hard,
+bitter feelings which suggested them.
+
+Another hour, and, clasped in each others' arms, they were sleeping as
+sweetly as though no breath of this world's bitterness had ever blown
+upon their hearts, or stirred them into momentary strife.
+
+Peace to their slumbers, and sweet dreams!
+
+It was, perhaps, an hour or two after noon, and the early dinner of
+the time was already over, when the two sisters strolled out into the
+gardens, unaccompanied, except by a tall old greyhound, Blanche's
+peculiar friend and guardian, and some two or three beautiful
+silky-haired King Charles spaniels.
+
+After loitering for a little while among the trim parterres, and
+box-edged terraces, and gathering a few sweet summer flowers, they
+turned to avoid the heat, which was excessive, into the dark elm
+avenue, and wandered along between the tall black yew hedges, linked
+arm-in-arm, indeed, but both silent and abstracted, and neither of
+them conscious of the rich melancholy music of the nightingales, which
+was ringing all around them in that pleasant solitude.
+
+Both, indeed, were buried in deep thought; and each, perhaps, for the
+first time in her life, felt that her thought was such that she could
+not, dared not, communicate it to her sister.
+
+For Blanche Fitz-Henry had, on the previous night, began, for the
+first time in her life, to suspect that she was the owner, for the
+time being, of a commodity called a heart, although it may be that the
+very suspicion proved in some degree that the possession was about to
+pass, if it were not already passing, from her.
+
+In sober seriousness, it must be confessed that the young cornet of
+the Life Guards, although he had made so little impression on her to
+whom he had devoted his attentions, had produced an effect different
+from any thing which she had ever fell before on the mind of the elder
+sister. It was not his good mien, nor his noble air that had struck
+her; for though he was a well-made, fine-looking man, of graceful
+manners, and high-born carriage, there were twenty men in the room
+with whom he could not for five minutes have sustained a comparison in
+point of personal appearance.
+
+His friend, the Viscount St. George, to whom she had lent but a cold
+ear, was a far handsomer man. Nor was it his wit and gay humor, and
+easy flow of conversation, that had captivated her fancy; although she
+certainly did think him the most agreeable man she had ever listened
+to. No, it was the under-current of delicate and poetical thought, the
+glimpses of a high and noble spirit, which flashed out at times
+through the light veil of reckless merriment, which, partly in
+compliance with the spirit of the day, and partly because his was a
+gay and mirthful nature, he had superinduced over the deeper and
+grander points of his character. No; it was a certain originality of
+mind, which assured her that, though he might talk lightly, he was one
+to feel fervently and deeply--it was the impress of truth, and candor,
+and high independence, which was stamped on his every word and action,
+that first riveted her attention, and, in spite of her resistance,
+half fascinated her imagination.
+
+This it was that had held her abstracted and apparently indifferent,
+while Lord St. George was exerting all his powers of entertainment in
+her behalf; this it was that had roused her indignation at hearing her
+sister speak so slightingly, and, as it seemed to her, so ungenerously
+of one whom she felt intuitively to be good and noble.
+
+This it was which now held her mute and thoughtful, and almost sad;
+for she felt conscious that she was on the verge of loving--loving one
+who, for aught that he had shown as yet, cared naught for her, perhaps
+even preferred another--and that other her own sister.
+
+Thereupon her maiden modesty rallied tumultuous to the rescue, and
+suggested the shame of giving love unasked, giving it, perchance, to
+be scorned--and almost she resolved to stifle the infant feeling in
+its birth, and rise superior to the weakness. But when was ever love
+vanquished by cold argument, or bound at the chariot-wheels of reason.
+
+The thought would still rise up prominent, turn her mind to whatever
+subject she would, coupled with something of pity at the treatment
+which he was like to meet from Agnes, something of vague, unconfessed
+pleasure that it was so, and something of secret hope that his eyes
+would erelong be opened, and that she might prove, in the end, herself
+his consoler.
+
+And what, meanwhile, were the dreams of Agnes? Bitter--bitter, and
+black, and hateful. Oh! it is a terrible consideration, how swiftly
+evil thoughts, once admitted to the heart, take root and flourish, and
+grow up into a rank and poisonous crop, choking the good grain
+utterly, and corrupting the very soil of which they have taken hold.
+There is but one hope--but one! To tear them from the root forcibly,
+though the heart-strings crack, and the soul trembles, as with a
+spiritual earthquake. To nerve the mind firmly and resolutely, yet
+humbly withal, and contritely, and with prayer against temptation,
+prayer for support from on high--to resist the Evil One with the whole
+force of the intellect, the whole truth of the heart, and to stop the
+ears steadfastly against the voice of the charmer, charm he never so
+wisely.
+
+But so did not Agnes Fitz-Henry. It is true that on the preceding
+night her better feelings had been touched, her heart had relented,
+and she had banished, as she thought, the evil counsellors, ambition,
+envy, jealousy, and distrust, from her spirit.
+
+But with the night the better influence passed away, and ere the
+morning had well come, the evil spirit had returned to his dwelling
+place, and brought with him other spirits, worse and more wicked than
+himself.
+
+The festive scene of the previous evening had, for the first time
+opened her eyes fairly to her own position; she read it in the
+demeanor of all present; she heard it in the whispers which
+unintentionally reached her ears; she felt it intuitively in the
+shade--it was not a shade, yet she observed it--of difference
+perceptible in the degree of deference and courtesy paid to herself
+and to her sister.
+
+She felt, for the first time, that Blanche was every thing, herself a
+mere cipher--that Blanche was the lady of the manor, the cynosure of
+all eyes, the queen of all hearts, herself but the lady's poor
+relation, the dependent on her bounty, and at the best a creature to
+be played with, and petted for her beauty and her wit, without regard
+to her feelings, or sympathy for her heart.
+
+And prepared as she was at all times to resist even just authority
+with insolent rebellion; ready as she was always to assume the
+defensive, and from that the offensive against all whom she fancied
+offenders, how angrily did her heart now boil up, how almost fiercely
+did she muster her faculties to resist, to attack, to conquer, to
+annihilate all whom she deemed her enemies--and that, for the moment,
+was the world.
+
+Conscious of her own beauty, of her own wit, of her own high and
+powerful intellect, perhaps over-confident in her resources, she
+determined on that instant that she would devote them all, all to one
+purpose, to which she would bend every energy, direct every thought of
+her mind--to her own aggrandizement, by means of some great and
+splendid marriage, which should set her as far above the heiress of
+Ditton-in-the-Dale, as the rich heiress now stood in the world's eye
+above the portionless and dependent sister.
+
+Nor was this all--there was a sterner, harder, and more wicked feeling
+yet, springing up in her heart, and whispering the sweetness of
+revenge--revenge on that amiable and gentle sister, who, so far from
+wronging her, had loved her ever with the tenderest and most
+affectionate love, who would have sacrificed her dearest wishes to her
+welfare--but whom, in the hardness of her embittered spirit, she could
+now see only as an intruder upon her own just rights, a rival on the
+stage of fashion, perhaps in the interests of the heart--whom she
+already envied, suspected, almost hated.
+
+And Blanche, at that self-same moment, had resolved to keep watch on
+her own heart narrowly, and to observe her sister's bearing toward
+George Delawarr, that in case she should perceive her favoring his
+suit, she might at once crush down the germ of rising passion, and
+sacrifice her own to her dear sister's happiness.
+
+Alas! Blanche! Alas! Agnes!
+
+Thus they strolled onward, silently and slowly, until they reached the
+little green before the summer-house, which was then the gayest and
+most lightsome place that can be imagined, with its rare paintings
+glowing in their undimmed hues, its gilding bright and burnished, its
+furniture all sumptuous and new, and instead of the dark funereal ivy,
+covered with woodbine and rich clustered roses. The windows were all
+thrown wide open to the perfumed summer air, and the warm light poured
+in through the gaps in the tree-tops, and above the summits of the
+then carefully trimmed hedgerows, blithe and golden.
+
+They entered and sat down, still pensive and abstracted; but erelong
+the pleasant and happy influences of the time and place appeared to
+operate in some degree on the feelings of both, but especially on the
+tranquil and well-ordered mind of the elder sister. She raised her
+head suddenly, and was about to speak, when the rapid sound of horses'
+feet, unheard on the soft sand until they were hard by, turned her
+attention to the window, and the next moment the two young cavaliers,
+who were even then uppermost in her mind, came into view, cantering
+along slowly on their well-managed chargers.
+
+Her eye was not quicker than those of the gallant riders, who, seeing
+the ladies, whom they had ridden over to visit, sitting by the windows
+of the summer-house, checked their horses on the instant, and doffed
+their plumed hats.
+
+"Good faith, fair ladies, we are in fortune's graces to-day," said the
+young peer, gracefully, "since having ridden thus far on our way to
+pay you our humble devoirs, we meet you thus short of our journey's
+end."
+
+"But how are we to win our way to you," cried Delawarr, "as you sit
+there bright _chatelaines_ of your enchanted bower--for I see neither
+fairy skiff, piloted by grim-visaged dwarfs, to waft us over, nor even
+a stray dragon, by aid of whose broad wings to fly across this mimic
+moat, which seems to be something of the deepest?"
+
+"Oh! gallop on, gay knights," said Agnes, smiling on Lord St. George,
+but averting her face somewhat from the cornet, "gallop on to the
+lodges, and leaving there your coursers, take the first path on the
+left hand, and that will lead you to our presence; and should you
+peradventure get entangled in the hornbeam maze, why, one of us two
+will bring you the clue, like a second Ariadne. Ride on and we will
+meet you. Come, sister, let us walk."
+
+Blanche had as yet scarcely found words to reply to the greeting of
+the gallants, for the coincidence of their arrival with her own
+thoughts had embarrassed her a little, and she had blushed crimson as
+she caught the eye of George Delawarr fixed on her with a marked
+expression, beneath which her own dropped timidly. But now she arose,
+and bowing with an easy smile, and a few pleasant words, expressed her
+willingness to abide by her sister's plan.
+
+In a few minutes the ladies met their gallants in the green labyrinth
+of which Agnes had spoken, and falling into pairs, for the walk was
+too narrow to allow them all four to walk abreast, they strolled in
+company toward the Hall.
+
+What words they said, I am not about to relate--for such
+conversations, though infinitely pleasant to the parties, are for the
+most part infinitely dull to third persons--but it so fell out, not
+without something of forwardness and marked management, which did not
+escape the young soldier's rapid eye, on the part of Agnes, that the
+order of things which had been on the previous evening was reversed;
+the gay, rattling girl attaching herself perforce to the viscount, not
+without a sharp and half-sarcastic jest at the expense of her former
+partner, and the mild heiress falling to his charge.
+
+George Delawarr had been smitten, it is true, the night before by the
+gayety and rapid intellect of Agnes, as well as by the wild and
+peculiar style of her beauty; and it might well have been that the
+temporary fascination might have ripened into love. But he was hurt,
+and disgusted even more than hurt, by her manner, and observing her
+with a watchful eye as she coquetted with his friend, he speedily came
+to the conclusion that St. George was right in his estimate of _her_
+character at least, although he now seemed to be flattered and amused
+by her evident prepossession in his favor.
+
+He had not, it is true, been deeply enough touched to feel either
+pique or melancholy at this discovery, but was so far heart-whole as
+to be rather inclined to laugh at the fickleness of the merry jilt,
+than either to repine or to be angry.
+
+He was by no means the man, however, to cast away the occasion of
+pleasure; and walking with so beautiful and soft a creature as
+Blanche, he naturally abandoned himself to the tide of the hour, and
+in a little while found himself engaged in a conversation, which, if
+less sparkling and brilliant, was a thousand times more charming than
+that which he had yesterday held with her sister.
+
+In a short time he had made the discovery that with regard to the
+elder sister, too, his friend's penetration had exceeded his own; and
+that beneath that calm and tranquil exterior there lay a deep and
+powerful mind, stored with a treasury of the richest gems of thought
+and feeling. He learned in that long woodland walk that she was,
+indeed, a creature both to adore and to be adored; and he, too, like
+St. George, was certain, that the happy man whom she should love,
+would be loved for himself alone, with the whole fervor, the whole
+truth, the whole concentrated passion of a heart, the flow of which
+once unloosed, would be but the stronger for the restraint which had
+hitherto confined it.
+
+Erelong, as they reached the wider avenue, the two parties united, and
+then, more than ever, he perceived the immense superiority in all
+lovable, all feminine points, of the elder to the younger sister; for
+Agnes, though brilliant and seemingly thoughtless and spirit-free as
+ever, let fall full many a bitter word, many a covert taunt and hidden
+sneer, which, with his eyes now opened as they were, he readily
+detected, and which Blanche, as he could discover, even through her
+graceful quietude, felt, and felt painfully.
+
+They reached the Hall at length, and were duly welcomed by its master;
+refreshments were offered and accepted--and the young men were invited
+to return often, and a day was fixed on which they should partake the
+hospitalities of Ditton, at least as temporary residents.
+
+The night was already closing in when they mounted their horses and
+withdrew, both well pleased with their visit--for the young lord was
+in pursuit of amusement only, and seeing at a glance the coyness of
+the heiress, and the somewhat forward coquetry of her sister, he had
+accommodated himself to circumstances, and determined that a passing
+flirtation with so pretty a girl, and a short _sejour_ at a house so
+well-appointed as Ditton, would be no unpleasant substitute for London
+in the dog-days; and George Delawarr, like Romeo, had discarded the
+imaginary love the moment he found the true Juliet. If not in love, he
+certainly was fascinated, charmed; he certainly thought Blanche the
+sweetest, and most lovely girl he had ever met, and was well inclined
+to believe that she was the best and most admirable. He trembled on
+the verge of his fate.
+
+And she--her destiny was fixed already, and forever! And when she saw
+her sister delighted with the attentions of the youthful nobleman, she
+smiled to herself, and dreamed a pleasant dream, and gave herself up
+to the sweet delusion. She had already asked her own heart "does he
+love me?" and though it fluttered sorely, and hesitated for a while,
+it did not answer, "No!"
+
+But as the gentlemen rode homeward, St. George turned shortly on his
+companion, and said, gravely,
+
+"You have changed your mind, Delawarr, and found out that I am right.
+Nevertheless, beware! do not, for God's sake, fall in love with her,
+or make her love you!"
+
+The blood flushed fiery-red to the ingenuous brow of George Delawarr,
+and he was embarrassed for a moment. Then he tried to turn off his
+confusion with a jest.
+
+"What, jealous, my lord! jealous of a poor cornet, with no other
+fortune than an honorable name, and a bright sword! I thought you,
+too, had changed your mind, when I saw you flirting so merrily with
+that merry brunette."
+
+"You did see me _flirting_, George--nothing more; and I _have_ changed
+my mind, since the beginning, if not since the end of last
+evening--for I thought at first that fair Blanche Fitz-Henry would
+make me a charming wife; and now I am sure that she would _not_--"
+
+"Why so, my lord? For God's sake! why say you so?"
+
+"Because she never would love _me_, George; and _I_ would never marry
+any woman, unless I were sure that she both could and did. So you see
+that I am not the least jealous; but still I say, don't fall in love
+with her--"
+
+"Faith! St. George, but your admonition comes somewhat late--for I
+believe I am half in love with her already."
+
+"Then stop where you are, and go no deeper--for if I err not, she is
+more than half in love with you, too."
+
+"A strange reason, St. George, wherefore to bid me stop!"
+
+"A most excellent good one!" replied the other, gravely, and almost
+sadly, "for mutual love between you two can only lead to mutual
+misery. Her father never would consent to her marrying you more than
+he would to her marrying a peasant--the man is perfectly insane on the
+subject of title-deeds and heraldry, and will accept no one for his
+son-in-law who cannot show as many quarterings as a Spanish grandee,
+or a German noble. But, of course, it is of no use talking about it.
+Love never yet listened to reason; and, moreover, I suppose what is to
+be is to be--come what may."
+
+"And what will you do, St. George, about Agnes? I think you are
+touched there a little!"
+
+"Not a whit I--honor bright! And for what I will do--amuse myself,
+George--amuse myself, and that pretty coquette, too; and if I find her
+less of a coquette, with more of a heart than I fancy she has--" he
+stopped short, and laughed.
+
+"Well, what then--what then?" cried George Delawarr.
+
+"It will be time enough to decide _then_."
+
+"And so say I, St. George. Meanwhile, I too will amuse myself."
+
+"Ay! but observe this special difference--what is fun to _you_ may be
+death to _her_, for she _has_ a heart, and a fine, and true, and deep
+one; may be death to yourself--for you, too, are honorable, and true,
+and noble; and that is why I love you, George, and why I speak to you
+thus, at the risk of being held meddlesome or impertinent."
+
+"Oh, never, never!" exclaimed Delawarr, moving his horse closer up to
+him, and grasping his hand warmly, "never! You meddlesome or
+impertinent! Let me hear no man call you so. But I will think of this.
+On my honor, I will think of this that you have said!"
+
+And he did think of it. Thought of it often, deeply--and the more he
+thought, the more he loved Blanche Fitz-Henry.
+
+Days, weeks, and months rolled on, and still those two young cavaliers
+were constant visiters, sometimes alone, sometimes with other gallants
+in their company, at Ditton-in-the-Dale. And ever still, despite his
+companion's warning, Delawarr lingered by the fair heiress' side,
+until both were as deeply enamored as it is possible for two persons
+to be, both single-hearted, both endowed with powerful intellect, and
+powerful imagination; both of that strong and energetic temperament
+which renders all impressions permanent, all strong passions immortal.
+It was strange that there should have been two persons, and there were
+but two, who discovered nothing of what was passing--suspected nothing
+of the deep feelings which possessed the hearts of the young lovers;
+while all else marked the growth of liking into love, of love into
+that absolute and over-whelming idolatry, which but few souls can
+comprehend, and which to those few is the mightiest of blessings or
+the blackest of curses.
+
+And those two, as is oftentimes the case, were the very two whom it
+most concerned to perceive, and who imagined themselves the quickest
+and the clearest sighted--Allan Fitz-Henry, and the envious Agnes.
+
+But so true is it that the hope is oft parent to the thought, and the
+thought again to security and conviction, that, having in the first
+instance made up his mind that Lord St. George would be a most
+suitable successor to the name of the family, and secondly, that he
+was engaged in prosecuting his suit to the elder daughter, her father
+gave himself no further trouble in the matter, but suffered things to
+take their own course without interference.
+
+He saw, indeed, that in public the viscount was more frequently the
+companion of Agnes than of Blanche; that there seemed to be a better
+and more rapid intelligence between them; and that Blanche appeared
+better pleased with George Delawarr's than with the viscount's
+company.
+
+But, to a man blinded by his own wishes and prejudices, such evidences
+went as nothing. He set it down at once to the score of timidity on
+Blanche's part, and to the desire of avoiding unnecessary notoriety on
+St. George's; and saw nothing but what was perfectly natural and
+comprehensible, in the fact that the younger sister and the familiar
+friend should be the mutual confidents, perhaps the go-betweens, of
+the two acknowledged lovers.
+
+He was in high good-humor, therefore; and as he fancied himself on the
+high-road to the full fruition of his schemes, nothing could exceed
+his courtesy and kindness to the young cornet, whom he almost
+overpowered with those tokens of affection and regard which he did
+not choose to lavish on the peer, lest he should be thought to be
+courting his alliance.
+
+Agnes, in the meantime, was so busy in the prosecution of her assault
+on Lord St. George's heart, on which she began to believe that she had
+made some permanent impression, that she was perfectly contented with
+her own position, and was well-disposed to let other people enjoy
+themselves, provided they did not interfere with her proceedings. It
+is true that, at times, in the very spirit of coquetry, she would
+resume her flirtation with George Delawarr, for the double purpose of
+piquing the viscount, and playing with the cornet's affections, which,
+blinded by self-love, she still believed to be devoted to her pretty
+self.
+
+But Delawarr was so happy in himself, that, without any intention of
+playing with Agnes, or deceiving her, he joked and rattled with her
+as he would with a sister, and believing that she must understand
+their mutual situation, at times treated her with a sort of quiet
+fondness, as a man naturally does the sister of his betrothed or his
+bride, which effectually completed her hallucination.
+
+The consequence of all this was, that, while they were unintentionally
+deceiving others, they were fatally deceiving themselves likewise; and
+of this, it is probable that no one was aware, with the exception of
+St. George, who, seeing that his warnings were neglected, did not
+choose to meddle further in the matter, although keeping himself ready
+to aid the lovers to the utmost of his ability by any means that
+should offer.
+
+In the innocence of their hearts, and the purity of their young love,
+they fancied that what was so clear to themselves, must be apparent to
+the eyes of others; and they flattered themselves that the lady's
+father not only saw, but approved their affection, and that, when the
+fitting time should arrive, there would be no obstacle to the
+accomplishment of their happiness.
+
+It is true that Blanche spoke not of her love to her sister, for,
+apart from the aversion which a refined and delicate girl must ever
+feel to touching on that subject, unless the secret be teased or
+coaxed out of her by some near and affectionate friend, there had
+grown up a sort of distance, not coldness, nor dislike, nor distrust,
+but simply distance, and lack of communication between the sisters
+since the night of the birth-day ball. Still Blanche doubted not that
+her sister saw and knew all that was passing in her mind, in the same
+manner as she read her heart; and it was to her evident liking for
+Lord St. George, and the engrossing claim of her own affections on all
+her thoughts, and all her time, that she attributed her carelessness
+of herself.
+
+Deeply, however, did she err, and cruelly was she destined to be
+undeceived.
+
+The early days of autumn had arrived, and the woods had donned their
+many-colored garments, when on a calm, sweet evening--one of those
+quiet and delicious evenings peculiar to that season--Blanche and
+George Delawarr had wandered away from the gay concourse which filled
+the gardens, and unseen, as they believed, and unsuspected, had turned
+into the old labyrinth where first they had begun to love, and were
+wrapped in soft dreams of the near approach of more perfect happiness.
+
+But a quick, hard eye was upon them--the eye of Agnes; for, by chance,
+Lord St. George was absent, having been summoned to attend the king at
+Windsor; and being left to herself, her busy mind, too busy to rest
+for a moment idle, plunged into mischief and malevolence.
+
+No sooner did she see them turn aside from the broad walk than the
+cloud was withdrawn, as if by magic, from her eyes; and she saw almost
+intuitively all that had previously escaped her.
+
+Not a second did she lose, but stealing after the unsuspecting pair
+with a noiseless and treacherous step, she followed them, foot by
+foot, through the mazes of the clipped hornbeam labyrinth, divided
+from them only by the verdant screen, listening to every
+half-breathed word of love, and drinking in with greedy ears every
+passionate sigh.
+
+Delawarr's left arm was around Blanche's slender waist, and her right
+hand rested on his shoulder; the fingers of their other hands were
+entwined lovingly together, as they wandered onward, wrapped each in
+the other, unconscious of wrong on their own part, and unsuspicious of
+injury from any other.
+
+Meanwhile, with rage in her eyes, with hell in her heart, Agnes
+followed and listened.
+
+So deadly was her hatred, at that moment, of her sister, so fierce and
+overmastering her rage, that it was only by the utmost exertion of
+self-control that she could refrain from rushing forward and loading
+them with reproaches, with contumely, and with scorn.
+
+But biting her lips till the blood sprang beneath her pearly teeth,
+and clinching her hands so hard that the nails wounded their tender
+palms, she did refrain, did subdue the swelling fury of her rebellious
+heart, and awaited the hour of more deadly vengeance.
+
+Vengeance for what? She had not loved George Delawarr--nay, she had
+scorned him! Blanche had not robbed her of her lover--nay, in her own
+thoughts, she had carried off the admirer, perhaps the future lover,
+from the heiress.
+
+She was the wronger, not the wronged! Then wherefore vengeance?
+
+Even, _therefore_, reader, because she had wronged her, and knew it;
+because her own conscience smote her, and she would fain avenge on the
+innocent cause, the pangs which at times rent her own bosom.
+
+Envious and bitter, she could not endure that Blanche should be loved,
+as she felt she was not loved herself, purely, devotedly, forever, and
+for herself alone.
+
+Ambitious, and insatiate of admiration, she could not endure that
+George Delawarr, once her captive, whom she still thought her slave,
+should shake off his allegiance to herself, much less that he should
+dare to love her sister.
+
+Even while she listened, she suddenly heard Blanche reply to some
+words of her lover, which had escaped her watchful ears.
+
+"Never fear, dearest George; I am sure that he has seen and knows
+all--he is the kindest and the best of fathers. I will tell him all
+to-morrow, and will have good news for you when you come to see me in
+the evening."
+
+"Never!" exclaimed the fury, stamping upon the ground violently--"by
+all my hopes of heaven, never!"
+
+And with the words she darted away in the direction of the hall as
+fast as her feet could carry her over the level greensward; rage
+seeming literally to lend her wings, so rapidly did her fiery passions
+spur her on the road to impotent revenge.
+
+Ten minutes afterward, with his face inflamed with fury, his periwig
+awry, his dress disordered by the haste with which he had come up,
+Allan Fitz-Henry broke upon the unsuspecting lovers.
+
+Snatching his daughter rudely from the young man's half embrace, he
+broke out into a torrent of terrible and furious invective, far more
+disgraceful to him who used it, than to those on whom it was vented.
+
+There was no check to his violence, no moderation on his tongue.
+Traitor, and knave, and low-born beggar, were the mildest epithets
+which he applied to the high-bred and gallant soldier; while on his
+sweet and shrinking child he heaped terms the most opprobrious, the
+most unworthy of himself, whether as a father or as a man.
+
+The blood rushed crimson to the brow of George Delawarr, and his hand
+fell, as if by instinct, upon the hilt of his rapier; but the next
+moment he withdrew it, and was cool by a mighty effort.
+
+"From you, sir, any thing! You will be sorry for this to-morrow!"
+
+"Never, sir! never! Get you gone! base domestic traitor! Get you gone,
+lest I call my servants, and bid them spurn you from my premises!"
+
+"I go, sir--" he began calmly; but at this moment St. George came upon
+the scene, having just returned from Windsor, eager, but, alas! too
+late, to anticipate the shameful scene--and to him did George Delawarr
+turn with unutterable anguish in his eyes. "Bid my men bring my horses
+after me, St. George," said he, firmly, but mournfully; "for me, this
+is no place any longer. Farewell, sir! you will repent of this. Adieu,
+Blanche, we shall meet again, sweet one."
+
+"Never! dog, never! or with my own hands--"
+
+"Hush! hush! for shame. Peace, Mister Fitz-Henry, these words are not
+such as may pass between gentlemen. Go, George, for God's sake! Go,
+and prevent worse scandal," cried the viscount.
+
+And miserable beyond all comprehension, his dream of bliss thus
+cruelly cut short, the young man went his way, leaving his mistress
+hanging in a deep swoon, happy to be for a while unconscious of her
+misery, upon her father's arm.
+
+Three days had passed--three dark, dismal, hopeless days. Delawarr did
+his duty with his regiment, nay, did it well--but he was utterly
+unconscious, his mind was afar off, as of a man walking in a dream.
+Late on the third night a small note was put into his hands, blistered
+and soiled with tears. A wan smile crossed his face, he ordered his
+horses at daybreak, drained a deep draught of wine, sauntered away to
+his own chamber, stopping at every two or three paces in deep
+meditation; threw himself on his bed, for the first time in his life
+without praying, and slept, or seemed to sleep, till daybreak.
+
+Three days had passed--three dark, dismal, hopeless days! Blanche was
+half dead--for she now despaired. All methods had been tried with the
+fierce and prejudiced old man, secretly prompted by that
+demon-girl--and all tried in vain. Poor Blanche had implored him to
+suffer her to resign her birthright in favor of her sister, who would
+wed to suit his wishes, but in vain. The generous St. George had
+offered to purchase for his friend, as speedily as possible, every
+step to the very highest in the service; nay, he had obtained from the
+easy monarch a promise to raise him to the peerage, but in vain.
+
+And Blanche despaired; and St. George left the Hall in sorrow and
+disgust that he could effect nothing.
+
+That evening Blanche's maid, a true and honest girl, delivered to her
+mistress a small note, brought by a peasant lad; and within an hour
+the boy went thence, the bearer of a billet, blistered and wet with
+tears.
+
+And Blanche crept away unheeded to her chamber, and threw herself upon
+her knees, and prayed fervently and long; and casting herself upon her
+painful bed, at last wept herself to sleep.
+
+The morning dawned, merry and clear, and lightsome; and all the face
+of nature smiled gladly in the merry sunbeams.
+
+At the first peep of dawn Blanche started from her restless slumbers,
+dressed herself hastily, and creeping down the stairs with a cautious
+step, unbarred a postern door, darted out into the free air, without
+casting a glance behind her, and fled, with all the speed of mingled
+love and terror, down the green avenue toward the gay pavilion--scene
+of so many happy hours.
+
+But again she was watched by an envious eye, and followed by a jealous
+foot.
+
+For scarce ten minutes had elapsed from the time when she issued from
+the postern, before Agnes appeared on the threshold, with her dark
+face livid and convulsed with passion; and after pausing a moment, as
+if in hesitation, followed rapidly in the footsteps of her sister.
+
+When Blanche reached the summer-house, it was closed and untenanted;
+but scarcely had she entered and cast open the blinds of one window
+toward the road, before a hard horse-tramp was heard coming up at full
+gallop, and in an instant George Delawarr pulled up his panting
+charger in the lane, leaped to the ground, swung himself up into the
+branches of the great oak-tree, and climbing rapidly along its gnarled
+limbs, sprang down on the other side, rushed into the building, and
+cast himself at his mistress' feet.
+
+Agnes was entering the far end of the elm-tree walk as he sprang down
+into the little coplanade, but he was too dreadfully preoccupied with
+hope and anguish, and almost despair, to observe any thing around him.
+
+But she saw him, and fearful that she should be too late to arrest
+what she supposed to be the lovers' flight, she ran like the wind.
+
+She neared the doorway--loud voices reached her ears, but whether in
+anger, or in supplication, or in sorrow, she could not distinguish.
+
+Then came a sound that rooted her to the ground on which her flying
+foot was planted, in mute terror.
+
+The round ringing report of a pistol-shot! and ere its echo had begun
+to die away, another!
+
+No shriek, no wail, no word succeeded--all was as silent as the grave.
+
+Then terror gave her courage, and she rushed madly forward a few
+steps, then stood on the threshold horror-stricken.
+
+Both those young souls, but a few days before so happy, so beloved,
+and so loving, had taken their flight--whither?
+
+Both lay there dead, as they had fallen, but unconvulsed, and graceful
+even in death. Neither had groaned or struggled, but as they had
+fallen, so they lay, a few feet asunder--her heart and his brain
+pierced by the deadly bullets, sped with the accuracy of his
+never-erring aim.
+
+While she stood gazing, in the very stupor of dread, scarce conscious
+yet of what had fallen out, a deep voice smote her ear.
+
+"Base, base girl, this is all your doing!" Then, as if wakening from a
+trance, she uttered a long, piercing shriek, darted into the pavilion
+between the gory corpses, and flung herself headlong out of the open
+window into the pool beneath.
+
+But she was not fated so to die. A strong hand dragged her out--the
+hand of St. George, who, learning that his friend had ridden forth
+toward Ditton, had followed him, and arrived too late by scarce a
+minute.
+
+From that day forth Agnes Fitz-Henry was a dull, melancholy maniac.
+Never one gleam of momentary light dispersed the shadows of her insane
+horror--never one smile crossed her lip, one pleasant thought relieved
+her life-long sorrow. Thus lived she; and when death at length came to
+restore her spirit's light, she died, and made no sign.
+
+Allan Fitz-Henry _lived_--a moody misanthropic man, shunning all men,
+and shunned of all. In truth, the saddest and most wretched of the
+sons of men.
+
+How that catastrophe fell out none ever knew, and it were useless to
+conjecture.
+
+They were beautiful, they were young, they were happy. The evil days
+arrived--and they were wretched, and lacked strength to bear their
+wretchedness. They are gone where ONE alone must judge them--may HE
+have pity on their weakness. REQUIESCANT!
+
+
+
+
+THE LOST PLEIAD.
+
+BY HENRY B. HIRST.
+
+
+    Beautiful sisters! tell me, do you ever
+      Dream of the loved and lost one, she who fell
+    And faded, in love's turbid, crimson river--
+              The sacred secret tell?
+    Calmly the purple heavens reposed around her,
+      And, chanting harmonies, she danced along;
+    Ere Eros in his silken meshes bound her,
+              Her being passed in song.
+
+    Once on a day she lay in dreamy slumber;
+      Beside her slept her golden-tonguèd lyre;
+    And radiant visions--fancies without number--
+              Filled breast and brain with fire.
+    She dreamed; and, in her dreams, saw, bending o'er her,
+      A form her fervid fancy deified;
+    And, waking, viewed the noble one before her,
+              Who wooed her as his bride.
+
+    What words--what passionate words he breathed, beseeching,
+      Have long been lost in the descending years:
+    Nevertheless she listened to his teaching,
+              Smiling between her tears.
+    And ever since that hour the happy maiden
+      Wanders unknown of any one but Jove;
+    Regretting not the lost Olympian Aidenn
+              In the Elysium--Love!
+
+
+
+
+SUNSET AFTER RAIN.
+
+BY ALFRED B. STREET.
+
+
+    All day, with humming and continuous sound,
+    Streaking the landscape, has the slant rain fall'n;
+    But now the mist is vanishing; in the west
+    The dull gray sheet, that shrouded from the sight
+    The sky, is rent in fragments, and rich streaks
+    Of tenderest blue are smiling through the clefts.
+    A dart of sunshine strikes upon the hills,
+    Then melts. The great clouds whiten, and roll off,
+    Until a steady blaze of golden light
+    Kindles the dripping scene. Within the east,
+    The delicate rainbow suddenly breaks out;
+    Soft air-breaths flutter round; each tree shakes down
+    A shower of glittering drops; the woodlands burst
+    Into a chorus of glad harmony;
+    And the rich landscape, full of loveliness,
+    Fades slowly, calmly, sweetly, into night.
+      Thus, sometimes, is the end of Human life.
+    In youth and manhood, sorrows may frown round;
+    But when the sun of Being lowly stoops,
+    The darkness breaks away--the tears are dried;
+    The Christian's hope--a rainbow--brightly glows,
+    And life glides sweet and tranquil to the tomb.
+
+
+
+
+MONTEZUMA MOGGS.
+
+THAT WAS TO BE.
+
+
+BY THE LATE JOSEPH C. NEAL.
+
+
+"Now, Moggs--you Moggs--good Moggs--dear Moggs," said his wife,
+running through the chromatic scale of matrimonial address, and
+modulating her words and her tones from irritation into
+tenderness--"yes, Moggs--that's a good soul--I do wish for once you
+would try to be a little useful to your family. Stay at home to-day,
+Moggs, can't you, while I do the washing? It would be so pleasant,
+Moggs--so like old times, to hear you whistling at your work, while I
+am busy at mine."
+
+And a smile of affection stole across the countenance of Mrs. Moggs,
+like a stray sunbeam on a cloudy day, breaking up the sharp and fixed
+lines of care into which her features had settled as a habitual
+expression, and causing her also to look as she did in the "old
+times," to which she now so kindly referred.
+
+"Wont you, Moggs?" added she, laying her hand upon his shoulder, "it
+would be so pleasant, dear--wouldn't it? I should not mind hard work,
+Moggs, if you were at work near me."
+
+There was a tear, perhaps, twinkling in the eye of the wife, giving
+gentleness to the hard, stony look which she in general wore, caused
+by those unceasing troubles of her existence that leave no time for
+weeping. Perpetual struggle hardens the heart and dries up the source
+of tears.
+
+"Wont you, Moggs?"
+
+The idea of combined effort was a pleasant family picture to Mrs.
+Moggs, though it did involve not a little of toil. Still, to her
+loneliness it was a pleasant picture, accustomed as she had been to
+strive alone, and continually, to support existence. But it seems that
+perceptions of the pleasant and of the picturesque in such matters,
+differ essentially; and Moggs, glancing through the sentimental, and
+beyond it, felt determined, as he always did, to avoid the trouble
+which it threatened.
+
+"Can't be," responded Moggs, slightly shrugging his shoulder, as a
+hint to his wife that the weight of her hand was oppressive. "Can't
+be," continued he, as he set himself industriously--for in this Moggs
+was industrious--to the consumption of the best part of the breakfast
+that was before him--a breakfast that had been, as usual, provided by
+his wife, and prepared by her, while Montezuma Moggs was fast
+asleep--an amusement to which, next to eating, Montezuma Moggs was
+greatly addicted when at home, as demanding the least possible effort
+and exertion on his part. Montezuma Moggs, you see, was in some
+respects not a little of an economist; and, as a rule, never made his
+appearance in the morning until firmly assured that breakfast was
+quite ready--"'most ready," was too indefinite and vague for Montezuma
+Moggs--he had been too often tricked from comfort in that way
+before--people will so impose on one in this respect--envious people,
+who covet your slumbers--such as those who drag the covering off, or
+sprinkle water on the unguarded physiognomy. But Moggs took care, in
+the excess of his caution, that no time should be lost by him in a
+tedious interval of hungry expectation.
+
+"Say ready--quite ready--and I'll come," muttered he, in that sleepy
+debate between bed and breakfast which often consumes so much of time;
+and his eyes remained shut and his mouth open until perfectly assured
+that all the preliminary arrangements had been completed. "Because,"
+as Moggs wisely observed, "that half hour before breakfast, reflecting
+on sausages and speculating on coffee, if there is sausages and
+coffee, frets a man dreadful, and does him more harm than all the rest
+of the day put together."--Sagacious Moggs!
+
+Besides, Moggs has a great respect for himself--much more, probably,
+than he has for other people, being the respecter of a person, rather
+than of persons, and that person being himself. Moggs, therefore,
+disdains the kindling of fires, splitting wood, and all that,
+especially of frosty mornings--and eschews the putting on of
+kettles--well knowing that if an individual is in the way when the aid
+of an individual is required, there is likely to be a requisition on
+the individual's services. Montezuma Moggs understood how to "skulk;"
+and we all comprehend the fact that to "skulk" judiciously is a fine
+political feature, saving much of wear and tear to the body corporate.
+
+"Mend boots--mind shop--tend baby!--can't be," repeated Moggs,
+draining the last drop from his cup--"boots, shops and babies must
+mend, mind and tend themselves--I'm going to do something better than
+that;" and so Moggs rose leisurely, took his hat, and departed, to
+stroll the streets, to talk at the corners, and to read the
+bulletin-boards at the newspaper offices, which, as Moggs often
+remarks, not only encourages literature, but is also one of the
+cheapest of all amusements--vastly more agreeable than if you paid for
+it.
+
+It was a little shop, in one of the poorer sections of the city, where
+Montezuma Moggs resided with his family--Mrs. Moggs and five juveniles
+of that name and race--a shop of the miscellaneous order, in which was
+offered for sale a little, but a very little, of any thing, and every
+thing--one of those distressed looking shops which bring a sensation
+of dreariness over the mind, and which cause a sinking of the heart
+before you have time to ask why you are saddened--a frail and feeble
+barrier it seems against penury and famine, to yield at the first
+approach of the gaunt enemy--a shop that has no aspect of business
+about it, but compels you to think of distraining for rent, of broken
+hearts, of sickness, suffering and death.
+
+It was a shop, moreover--we have all seen the like--with a bell to it,
+which rings out an announcement as we open the door, that, few and far
+between, there has been an arrival in the way of a customer, though it
+may be, as sometimes happens, that the bell, with all its untuned
+sharpness, fails to triumph over the din of domestic affairs in the
+little back-room, which serves for parlor, and kitchen, and hall, and
+proves unavailing to spread the news against the turbulent clamor of
+noisy children and a vociferous wife.
+
+But be patient to the last--even if the bell does prove insufficient
+to attract due attention to your majestic presence, whether you come
+to make purchases or to avail yourself of the additional proffer made
+by the sign appertaining to Moggs exclusively, relative to "Boots and
+shoes mended," collateral to which you observe a work-bench in the
+corner; still, be patient, and cause the energies of your heel to hold
+"wooden discourse" with the sanded floor, as emphatically you cry--
+
+"Shop!" and beat with pennies on the counter.
+
+Be patient; for, look ye, Mrs. Moggs will soon appear, with a flushed
+countenance and a soiled garb--her youngest hope, if a young Moggs is
+to be called a hope, sobbing loudly on its mother's shoulder, while
+the unawed pratlers within, carry on the war with increasing violence.
+
+"Shop!"
+
+"Comin'!--what's wanten?" is the sharp and somewhat discourteous
+reply, as Mrs. Moggs gives a shake of admonition to her peevish little
+charge, and turns half back to the riotous assemblage in the rear.
+
+Now, we ask it of you as a special favor, that you do not suffer any
+shadow of offence to arise at the dash of acerbity that may manifest
+itself in the tones of Mrs. Montezuma Moggs. According to our notion
+of the world, as it goes, she, and such as she, deserve rather to be
+honored than to provoke wrath by the defects of an unpolished and
+unguarded manner. She has her troubles, poor woman--gnawing cares, to
+which, in all likelihood, yours are but as the gossamer upon the wind,
+or as the thistle-down floating upon the summer breeze; and if there
+be cash in your pocket, do not, after having caused such a turmoil,
+content yourself with simply asking where Jones resides, or Jenkins
+lives. It would be cruel--indeed it would. True, Mrs. Moggs expects
+little else from one of your dashing style and elegant appearance.
+Such a call rarely comes to her but with some profitless query; yet
+look around at the sparse candies, the withering apples, and the
+forlorn groceries--specimens of which are affixed to the window-panes
+in triangular patches of paste and paper--speak they not of poverty?
+Purchase, then, if it be but a trifle.
+
+Mrs. Moggs, unluckily for herself, is possessed of a husband.
+Husbands, they say, are often regarded as desirable; and some of them
+are spoken of as if they were a blessing. But if the opinion of Mrs.
+Moggs were obtained on that score, it would probably be somewhat
+different; for be it known that the husband of Mrs. Moggs is of the
+kind that is neither useful nor ornamental. He belongs to that
+division which addicts itself mainly to laziness--a species of the
+biped called husband, which unfortunately is not so rare that we seek
+for the specimen only in museums. We know not whether Montezuma Moggs
+was or was not born lazy; nor shall we undertake to decide that
+laziness is an inherent quality; but as Mrs. Moggs was herself a
+thrifty, painstaking woman, as women, to their credit be it spoken,
+are apt to be, her lazy husband, as lazy husbands will, in all such
+cases, continued to grow and to increase in laziness, shifting every
+care from his own broad shoulders to any other shoulders, whether
+broad or narrow, strong or wreak, that had no craven shrinkings from
+the load, Moggs contenting himself in an indolence which must be seen
+to be appreciated by those--husbands or wives--who perform their tasks
+in this great work-shop of human effort with becoming zeal and with
+conscientious assiduity, regarding laziness as a sin against the great
+purposes of their being. If this assumption be true, as we suspect it
+is, Montezuma Moggs has much to answer for; though it is a common
+occurrence, this falling back into imbecility, if there be any one at
+hand willing to ply the oar, as too often shown in the fact that the
+children of the industrious are willing to let their parents work,
+while the energetic wife has a drag upon her in the shape of a
+lounging husband.
+
+Yes, Mrs. Moggs belongs to the numerous class of women who have what
+is well called "a trying time of it." You may recognize them in the
+street, by their look of premature age--anxious, hollow-eyed, and worn
+to shadows. There is a whole history in every line of their faces,
+which tells of unceasing trouble, and their hard, quick movement as
+they press onward regardless of all that begirts the way, indicates
+those who have no thought to spare from their own immediate
+necessities, for comment upon the gay and flaunting world. Little does
+ostentation know, as it flashes by in satined arrogance and jeweled
+pride, of the sorrow it may jostle from its path; and perhaps it is
+happy for us as we move along in smiles and pleasantness, not to
+comprehend that the glance which meets our own comes from the
+bleakness of a withered heart--withered by penury's unceasing
+presence.
+
+Moggs is in fault--ay, Montezuma Moggs--what, he "mend boots, mind
+shop, tend baby," bringing down his lofty aspirations for the future
+to be cabined within the miserable confines of the present!
+
+"Hard work?" sneers Moggs--"yes, if a man sets himself down to hard
+work, there he may set--nothing else but hard work will ever come to
+him--but if he wont do hard work, then something easier will be sure to
+come toddlin' along sooner or later. What can ever find you but hard
+work if you are forever in the shop, a thumpin' and a hammerin'? Good
+luck never ventures near lap-stones and straps. I never saw any of it
+there in the whole course of my life; and I'm waitin' for good luck,
+so as to be ready to catch it when it comes by."
+
+Montezuma Moggs had a turn for politics; and for many a year he
+exhibited great activity in that respect, believing confidently that
+good luck to himself might grow from town-meetings and elections; and
+you may have observed him on the platform when oratory addressed the
+"masses," or on the election ground with a placard to his button, and
+a whole handfull of tickets. But his luck did not seem to wear that
+shape; and politically, Montezuma Moggs at last took his place in the
+"innumerable caravan" of the disappointed. And thus, in turn, has he
+courted fortune in all her phases, without a smile of recognition from
+the blinded goddess. The world never knows its noblest sons; and
+Montezuma Moggs was left to sorrow and despair.
+
+Could he have been honored with a lofty commission, Montezuma Moggs
+might have set forth to a revel in the halls of his namesake; but as
+one of the rank and file, he could not think of it. And in private
+conversation with his sneering friend Quiggens, to whose captiousness
+and criticism Moggs submitted, on the score of the cigars occasionally
+derivable from that source, he ventured the subjoined remarks relative
+to his military dispositions:
+
+"What I want," said Moggs, "is a large amount of glory, and a bigger
+share of pay--a man like me ought to have plenty of both--glory, to
+swagger about with, while the people run into the street to stare at
+Moggs, all whiskers and glory--and plenty of pay, to make the glory
+shine, and to set it off. I wouldn't mind, besides, if I did have a
+nice little wound or two, if they've got any that don't hurt much, so
+that I might have my arm in a sling, or a black patch on my
+countenance. But if I was only one of the rank and file, I'm very much
+afraid I might have considerable more of knocks that would hurt a
+great deal, than I should of either the pay or the glory--that's what
+troubles me in the milentary way. But make me a gineral, and then,
+I'll talk to you about the matter--make me a gineral ossifer, with the
+commission, and the feathers, and the cocked-hat--plenty of pay, and a
+large slice of rations--there's nothing like rations--and then I'll
+talk to you like a book. Then I'll pledge you my lives, and my
+fortunes, and my sacred honors--all of 'em--that I will furnish the
+genus whenever it is wanted--genus in great big gloves, monstrous long
+boots, and astride of a hoss that scatters the little boys like
+Boston, whenever I touch the critter with my long spurs, to astonish
+the ladies. Oh, get out!--do you think I couldn't play gineral and
+look black as thunder, for such pay as ginerals get? I'd do it for
+half the money, and I'd not only do it cheaper, but considerable
+better than you ever see it done the best Fourth of July you ever met
+with. At present, I know I've not much rations, and no money at
+all--money's skurse--but as for genus--look at my eye--isn't genus
+there?--observation my nose--isn't it a Boneyparte?--aint I sevagerous
+about the mouth?--I tell you, Quiggens, there's whole lots of a hero
+in this little gentleman. I've so much genus that I can't work. When a
+man's genus is a workin' in his upper story, and mine always is, then
+his hands has to be idle, so's not to interrupt his genus."
+
+"Yes," responded Quiggens, who is rather of the satirical turn, as one
+is likely to be who has driven the "Black Maria," and has thus found
+out that the world is all a fleeting show; "yes, you've got so much
+genus in your upper story that it has made a hole in the crown of your
+hat, so it can see what sort of weather is going on out of doors--and
+it's your genus, I reckon, that's peeping out of your elbows. Why
+don't you ask your genus to patch your knees, and to mend the holes in
+your boots?"
+
+"Quiggens, go 'way, Quiggens--you're of the common natur', Quiggens--a
+vulgar fraction, Quiggens; and you can't understand an indiwidooal who
+has a mind inside of his hat, and a whole soul packed away under his
+jacket. You'll never rise, a flutterin' and a ringin' like a
+bald-headed eagle--men like you have got no wings, and can only go
+about nibblin' the grass, while we fly up and peck cherries from the
+trees. I'm always thinkin' on what I'm going to be, and a preparin'
+myself for what natur' intended, though I don't know exactly what it
+is yet. But I don't believe that sich a man as Montezuma Moggs was
+brought into the world only to put patches on shoes and to heel-tap
+people's boots. No, Quiggens--no--it can't be, Quiggens. But you don't
+understand, and I'll have to talk to my genus. It's the only friend I
+have."
+
+"Why don't you ask your genus to lend you a fip then, or see whether
+it's got any cigars to give away," replied Quiggs contemptuously, as
+he walked up the street, while Moggs, in offended majesty, stalked
+sulkily off in another direction.
+
+"I would go somewheres, if I only knew where to go to," soliloquized
+Moggs, as he strolled slowly along the deserted streets; "but when
+there's nowheres to go to, then I suppose a person must go
+home--specially of cold nights like this, when the thermometer is down
+as far as Nero, and acts cruel on the countenance. It's always colder,
+too, when there's nobody about but yourself--you get your own share
+and every body else's besides; and it's lucky if you're not friz. Why
+don't they have gloves for people's noses? I ought to have a
+carriage--yes, and horses--ay, and a colored gemman to drive 'em, to
+say nothing of a big house warmed all over, with curtains to the
+windows. And why haven't I? Isn't Montezuma Moggs as good as
+anybody--isn't he as big--as full of genus? It's cold now, a footin'
+it round. But I'll wait--perhaps there's a good time comin',
+boys--there must be a good time, for there isn't any sort of times in
+the place where they keep time, which can be worse times than these
+times. But here's home--here's where you must go when you don't know
+what to do with yourself. Whenever a man tells you he has nowheres to
+go to, or says he's goin' nowheres, that man's a crawlin' home,
+because he can't help it. Well, well--there's nothin' else to be did,
+and so somebody must turn out and let me in home."
+
+It appeared, however, that Montezuma Moggs erred in part in this
+calculation. It is true enough that he knocked and knocked for
+admission at the door of his domicile; but the muscular effort thus
+employed seemed to serve no other purpose than that of exercise. Tired
+with the employment of his hands in this regard, Moggs resorted to his
+feet--then tried his knee, and anon his back, after the usual
+desperate variety of such appeal resorted to by the "great locked
+out," when they become a little savage or so at the delay to which
+they are subjected. Sometimes, also, he would rap fiercely, and then
+apply his eye to the key-hole, as if to watch for the effect of his
+rapping. "I don't see 'em," groaned he. And then again, his ear would
+be placed against the lock--"I don't hear 'em either." There were
+moments when he would frantically kick the door, and then rush as
+frantically to the middle of the street, to look at the windows; but
+no sign of animation from within peered forth to cheer him. After full
+an hour of toil and of hope deferred, Montezuma Moggs tossed his arms
+aloft in despair--let them fall listlessly at his side, and then sat
+down upon the curb-stone to weep, while the neighbors looked upon him
+from their respective windows; a benevolent few, not afraid of
+catching cold, coming down to him with their condolements. None,
+however, offered a resting place to the homeless, unsheltered and
+despairing Moggs.
+
+In the course of his musings and mournings, as he sat chattering with
+cold, a loosened paving-stone arrested his attention; and, with the
+instinct of genius, which catches comfort and assistance from means
+apparently the most trivial, and unpromising in their aspect, the
+paving-stone seemed to impart an idea to Montezuma Moggs, in this "his
+last and fearfulest extremity." Grappling this new weapon in both his
+hands, he raised it and poised it aloft.
+
+"I shall make a ten-strike now," exclaimed he, as he launched the
+missile at the door with herculean force, and himself remained in
+classic attitude watching the effect of the shot, as the door groaned,
+and creaked, and splintered under the unwonted infliction. Still,
+however, it did not give way before this application of force, though
+the prospect was encouraging. The observers laughed--Moggs
+chuckled--the dogs barked louder than before; and indeed it seemed all
+round as if a new light had been cast upon the subject.
+
+"Hongcore!" cried somebody.
+
+"I will," said Moggs, preparing to demonstrate accordingly.
+
+"Stop there," said the voice of Mrs. Montezuma Moggs, as she raised
+the window, "if you hongcore the door of this 'ere house again, I'll
+call the watch, to see what he thinks of such doings, I will. And now,
+once for all, you can't come in here to-night."
+
+"Can't, indeed!--why can't I?--not come into my own house! Do you
+call this a free country, on the gineral average, if such rebellions
+are to be tolerated?"
+
+"Your house, Mr. Moggs--yours?--who pays the rent, Moggs--who feeds
+you and the children, Moggs--who finds the fire and every thing else?
+Tell us that?"
+
+This was somewhat of the nature of a home-thrust, and Moggs, rather
+conscience-stricken, was dumb-founded and appalled. Moggs was very
+cold, and therefore, for the time being, deficient in his usual pride
+and self-esteem, leaving himself more pervious to the assault of
+reproach from without and within, than he would have been in a more
+genial state of the atmosphere. No man is courageous when he is
+thoroughly chilled; and it had become painfully evident that this was
+not a momentary riot, but an enduring revolution, through the
+intermedium of a civil war.
+
+"Ho, ho!" faintly responded Moggs, though once more preparing to carry
+the citadel by storm, "I'll settle this business in a twinkling."
+
+Splash!
+
+Any thing but cold water in quantity at a crisis like this. Who could
+endure a shower-bath under such ungenial circumstances? Not Priessnitz
+himself. It is not, then, to be wondered at that Montezuma Moggs now
+quailed, having nothing in him of the amphibious nature.
+
+"Water is cheap, Mr. Moggs; and you'd better take keer. There's
+several buckets yet up here of unkommon cold water, all of which is at
+your service without charge--wont ask you nothin', Moggs, for your
+washin'; and if you're feverish, may be it will do you good."
+
+Everybody laughed, as you know everybody will, at any other body's
+misfortune or disaster. Everybody laughed but Moggs, and he shivered.
+
+"I'll sattinly ketch my death," moaned he; "I'll be friz, standing
+straight up, like a big icicle; or if I fall over when I'm friz, the
+boys will slide on me as they go to school, and call it fun as they go
+whizzing over my countenance with nails in their shoes, scratching my
+physimohogany all to pieces. They tell me that being friz is an easy
+death--that you go to sleep and don't know nothing about it. I wish
+they'd get their wives to slouse 'em all over with a bucket of water,
+on sich a night as this, and then try whether it is easy. Call being
+friz hard an easy thing! I'd rather be biled any time. What shill I
+do--what shill I do?"
+
+"Perhaps they'll put you in an ice-house, and kiver you up with tan
+till summer comes--you'd be good for something then, which is more nor
+you are now," observed Mrs. Moggs from the window.
+
+"Quit twitting a man with his misfortunes," whined Montezuma, of the
+now broken-heart.
+
+"Why, my duck!"
+
+"Y-e-e-s--y-e-e-s! that's it--I am a duck, indeed! but by morning I'll
+be only a snow-ball--the boys will take my head for a snow-ball. What
+shill I do--I guvs up, and I guvs in."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you, Montezuma Moggs, what you must do to be thawed.
+Promise me faithfully only to work half as hard as I do, and you may
+come to the fire--the ten-plate stove is almost red-hot. Promise to
+mend boots, mind shop, and tend baby; them's the terms--that's the
+price of admission."
+
+Hard terms, certainly--the severest of terms--but then hard terms, and
+severe terms, are good terms, if no other terms are to be had. One
+must do the best he can in this world, if it be imperative upon him to
+do something, as it evidently was in Moggs' case.
+
+"I promise," shivered Moggs.
+
+"Promise what?"
+
+"T-t-to tend baby, m-m-mind shop, and m-m-mend boots;" and the
+vanquished Moggs sank down exhausted, proving, beyond the possibility
+of doubt, that cold water, when skillfully applied of a cold night, is
+the sovereignest thing on earth for the cure of "genus" in its lazier
+branches.
+
+It is but justice, however, to state, that Moggs kept his word
+faithfully, in which he contradicted the general expectation, which,
+with reason enough in the main, places but little reliance on
+promises; and he became, for him, quite an industrious person. His
+wife's buckets served as a continual remembrancer. But Mrs. Moggs
+never exulted over his defeat; and, though once compelled to
+harshness, continued to be to Montezuma a most excellent wife. The
+shop looks lively now--and the bell to the door is removed; for Moggs,
+with his rat-tat-tat, is ever at his post, doing admired execution on
+the dilapidated boots and shoes. The Moggses prosper, and all through
+the efficacy of a bucket of cold water. We should not wonder if, in
+the end, the Moggs family were to become rich, through the force of
+industry, and without recourse to "genus."
+
+"Politics and me has shuck hands forever," said the repentant Moggs.
+"I've been looking out and expecting loaves and fishes long enough.
+Loaves, indeed! Why I never got even a cracker, unless it was aside of
+the ear, when there was a row on the election ground; and as for
+fishes, why, if I'd stopped any longer for them to come swimming up to
+my mouth, all ready fried, with pepper on 'em, I wouldn't even have
+been decent food for fishes myself. I never got a nibble, let alone a
+bite; but somebody else always cotch'd the fish, and asked me to carry
+'em home for them. Fact is, if people wont wote for me, I wont wote
+for people. And as for the milentary line, I give up in a gineral way,
+all idea of being a gineral ossifer. Bonyparte is dead, and if my
+milentary genus was so great that I couldn't sleep for it, who'd hunt
+me up and put me at the head of affairs? No, if I'm wanted for any
+thing, they'll have to call me. I've dodged about winkin' and noddin'
+as long as the country had any right to expect, and now--rat-tat-tat--I'm
+going to work for myself."
+
+It was a wise conclusion on the part of Moggs, who may, perchance, in
+this way, be a "gineral" yet.
+
+
+
+
+THE BRIDE'S CONFESSION.
+
+BY ALICE G. LEE.
+
+
+    A sudden thrill passed through my heart,
+      Wild and intense--yet not of pain--
+    I strove to quell quick, bounding throbs,
+      And scanned the sentence o'er again.
+    It might have been full idly penned
+      By one whose thoughts from love were free,
+    And yet as if entranced I read
+      "Thou art most beautiful to me."
+
+    Thou didst not whisper I was loved--
+      There were no gleams of tenderness,
+    Save those my trembling heart _would_ hope
+      That careless sentence might express.
+    But while the blinding tears fell fast,
+      Until the words I scarce could see,
+    There shone, as through a wreathing mist,
+      "Thou art most beautiful to me."
+
+    To thee! I cared not for all eyes
+      So I was beautiful in thine!
+    A timid star, my faint, sad beams
+      Upon _thy_ path alone should shine.
+    Oh what was praise, save from thy lips--
+      And love should all unheeded be
+    So I could hear thy blessed voice
+      Say--"Thou art beautiful to me."
+
+    And I _have heard_ those very words--
+      Blushing beneath thine earnest gaze--
+    Though thou, perchance, hadst quite forgot
+      They had been said in by-gone days.
+    While claspèd hand, and circling arm,
+      Drew me nearer still to thee--
+    Thy low voice breathed upon mine ear
+      "Thou, love, art beautiful to me."
+
+    And, dearest, though thine eyes alone
+      May see in me a single grace--
+    I care not so thou e'er canst find
+      A hidden sweetness in my face.
+    And if, as years and cares steal on,
+      Even that lingering light must flee,
+    What matter! if from thee I hear
+      "Thou art _still_ beautiful to me!"
+
+
+
+
+SONNET TO NIGHT.
+
+
+      Oh! look, my love, as over seas and lands
+    Comes shadowy Night, with dew, and peace, and rest;
+      How every flower clasps its folded hands
+    And fondly leans apon her faithful breast.
+      How still, how calm, is all around us now,
+    From the high stars to these pale buds beneath--
+      Calm, as the quiet on an infant's brow
+    Rocked to deep slumber in the lap of death.
+      Oh! hush--move not--it is a holy hour
+    And this soft nurse of nature, bending low,
+      Lists, like the sinless pair in Eden's bower,
+    For angels' pinions waving to and fro--
+    Oh, sacred Night! what mysteries are thine
+    Graven in stars upon thy page divine.
+                                          GRETTA.
+
+
+
+
+PAULINE DUMESNIL.
+
+OR A MARRIAGE DE CONVENANCE.
+
+BY ANGELE DE V. HULL.
+
+
+    The reason firm, the temperate will,
+    Endurance, foresight, strength and skill
+    A perfect woman, nobly planned.   WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+In a large but somewhat scantily furnished apartment sat two young
+girls, in such earnest and apparently serious conversation that, but
+for their youthful and blooming countenances, one might have fancied
+them bending beneath the cares and sorrows of age. On the dark old
+table between them rested a magnificent work-box, whose rich
+implements they had been busily and skillfully using; but now the
+scissors and thread lay at their feet, their needles were dropped, and
+the younger of the two sat with clasped hands, while her companion's
+low tones appeared to awaken every emotion of her heart.
+
+On the old-fashioned French bedstead were thrown dresses of various
+hues and expensive stuffs, while one only, a robe of the most delicate
+material, its graceful folds looped with orange flowers, seemed to
+attract the attention of the fair, fragile being, whose attitude was
+one of intense suffering. Her bright hopes had faded at sight of that
+colorless garb, and the bridal wreath was to wither on her brow! What
+to her sad soul were the costly things before her? The jewels that
+sparkled on their snow-white satin case, the long fairy veil of
+beautiful lace that lay side by side with the bridal dress?
+
+Her companion continued speaking, and she bowed her face upon those
+clasped hands, while her slight frame shook with its contending
+emotions. A few moments more and she raised her head. She was pale,
+and her large, dark eyes dilated into fearful size. At length the big
+drops came slowly down her cheek, and she was able to speak.
+
+"No more, Angela, no more! You love me, I know; but what you have done
+to day was no act of friendship. You have troubled the dark waters of
+my soul until they have become a torrent over which I have no
+control."
+
+"And it is because I love you, Pauline, that I have made your future
+life manifest to you. Do not seek to make a merit of obedience to your
+proud mother's will. It is because you have been taught to fear her,
+that you have consented to perjure yourself, and marry a man you
+cannot love."
+
+"For the love of heaven, spare me!" cried the girl, shrinking from her
+friend's words, "Is it to triumph over me that you thus seek to move
+me?"
+
+Her friend gazed mournfully upon her, and rising from her seat, gently
+put her arm around her.
+
+"My poor Pauline! my dear Pauline!" murmured she, "I have been
+cruel--forgive me."
+
+Her answer was a fervent embrace--and throwing their arms round one
+another, they wept in silence.
+
+At this moment the door opened, and a lady entered. She was tall and
+majestic, but there was an expression of pride and extreme hauteur on
+her countenance. She wore a handsome but faded dress, and the somewhat
+high-crowned cap bespoke a love of former fashions. She had a foreign
+air, and when she addressed her daughter, it was in French.
+
+"How is this!" cried she, angrily. "What scenes are these, Pauline? As
+often as I enter your room I find you in tears. Is it to your advice,
+Mademoiselle Percy, that my daughter owes her red eyes?"
+
+Angela was about to reply, but Pauline waved her back.
+
+"Is it, then, a crime to weep, mamma? If there were no tears, the
+heart would break."
+
+"It is a crime, Pauline, to resist the will of your mother, when she
+has provided for your happiness in a manner suitable to your rank and
+birth. It is a crime to break the fifth commandment, which tells you
+to honor and obey your mother."
+
+"And have I not done both," cried Pauline, indignantly. "Have you not
+sold my happiness? Have you not bartered perhaps my eternal welfare,
+that I might lay my aching head upon the downy pillows of the rich,
+that you might see me a wretched slave, writhing under chains not the
+less heavy because they are of gold?"
+
+"Have you been reading Racine this morning? Or have you been studying
+for the stage?" said Madame Dumesnil, in a cold, scornful tone. "You
+are a good actress, certainly."
+
+Pauline sank upon a chair, and her friend stood beside her, pressing
+her trembling hand. Her mother advanced and stood before her.
+
+"We will have no more of this, Pauline. If I feel satisfied that my
+duty is done, you should rejoice in obeying me. I alone am the judge
+in this matter--children should ever be contented with allowing their
+parents to act for them; and allow me to say, that any interference of
+strangers upon an occasion like this, is exceedingly misplaced."
+
+This was aimed at Angela Percy; but she only replied by a wondering
+and mournful gaze to the stern, cold woman before her. The old lady
+proceeded.
+
+"Bathe your eyes, Pauline, and arrange your hair. Monsieur de
+Vaissiere is below. Perhaps," added she, with a sneer, "perhaps that
+Miss Percy will assist you in entertaining your lover."
+
+Pauline started and shuddered, but by this time she had again yielded
+to her mother's influence. Going to the glass, she smoothed her dark
+hair, and endeavored to abate the swelling of her eyes. Bidding
+farewell to her friend, she descended to the parlor, where her
+affianced husband awaited her.
+
+He was tall, and his appearance _distingué_; but he, too, looked stern
+and cold as he rose to meet that young creature, whose nineteen
+summers were more than doubled by his years. He was handsome also; but
+where was the youthful ardor that should have been roused at the idea
+of winning that fair girl's love? Where were the sunny hopes to meet
+hers, the dreams of the future that _he_ wanted? His willingness to
+accept the sacrifice was no proof of his gentleness; and the cheek of
+his betrothed grew pale, and her hand was cold, as he led her to a
+seat.
+
+Pauline had been bred to the hard forcing-school of the _ancien
+régime_. Her mother had left France on the terrible death of her
+beloved queen, Marie Antoinette, and had passed from the high post of
+_dame d'honneur_, to poverty and exile in America. The sale of her
+magnificent jewels and massive silver, had enabled her to lease an old
+roomy mansion, deserted by its owners, and to live in peace and
+retirement. Here, with the recollection of the horrors of the
+revolution fresh within her memory, while her heart was still bleeding
+with the wounds it had received; while she still had before her the
+mangled remains of her sovereigns--the bleeding head of her husband,
+torn from her in the days of their early love; in the midst of these
+agonizing thoughts, she gave birth to a posthumous child--the heroine
+of our story. Clasping her babe to her breast, Madame Dumesnil
+bitterly recalled the many plans of happiness her murdered husband had
+made in anticipation of its coming--his affection for _her_--his
+anxiety for her safety--their parting, and the subsequent news of his
+execution. Those lips were mute whose words of tenderness were to
+soothe her in her hour of suffering; that hand was cold that would
+have rested on her brow; that heart was still that would have bounded
+with a father's love at sight of the tiny, helpless creature that lay
+upon her arm.
+
+Madame Dumesnil, the young, the lovely, and the gentle, became silent,
+reserved, and harsh. Nothing could swerve her from a determination
+made, and with feelings of the deepest parental affection for her
+daughter, she had crushed and broken her spirit in the sweet
+spring-time of her childhood.
+
+From the time Pauline was old enough to form a desire, she learned to
+hear it opposed. "_Une petite fille attend qu'on lui donne se qui lui
+faut_," was the invariable reply to all her childish longings.
+According to the old French system, every slight offence was followed
+by her mother's "_Allez vous coucher, mademoiselle_;" so that half her
+life was spent in bed, while she lay awake with the bright, broad
+daylight around her, the hour when other children are strengthening
+their little limbs in the active enjoyment of God's free, fresh air.
+
+As she grew older, she was taught that "_une demoiselle bien elevée
+n'a pas d'opinions_," that her parents judged and decided for her;
+and while she sat erect upon a high stool, accomplishing her daily
+tasks in silence, her heart nearly burst with the pent-up feelings of
+her young imagination. Wherever she went her mother's old
+waiting-woman was behind her. "Miss Pauline, hold yourself straight;
+Miss Pauline, turn out your feet--your head, mademoiselle--your arms!"
+Poor girl! she was well-nigh distracted with these incessant
+admonitions.
+
+In her walks she met Angela Percy and her father. They had lately
+settled in the neighborhood, and having no acquaintances, gladly made
+advances to the timid Pauline. Nothing daunted by her shyness and
+reserve, Angela, some years her senior, persevered, and overcame it.
+She was an enthusiastic, high-minded girl, and soon pointed out to her
+companion new views and new ideas of the world from which she had been
+excluded. The intimacy was formed ere Madame Dumesnil could prevent
+it, and at the instances of old Jeannette, who begged that
+Mademoiselle Pauline might have a friend of her own age--some one to
+talk to, besides two old women, she consented to allow the friendship
+to continue, provided Jeannette were present at every interview. This
+was easily promised, but the nurse's stiff limbs were no match for the
+agile supple ones of her young charges. Day by day she loitered
+behind, while Pauline and Angela, with their arms entwined, continued
+in eager and undisturbed enjoyment of one another's society. Jeannette
+remarked a glow upon her young lady's cheek, and a light in her
+eye--new charms in her hitherto pale, resigned countenance; and, wiser
+than her mistress, concluded that the acquisition of a youthful friend
+was fast pouring happiness into her lonely heart.
+
+Three years passed in this pleasant intercourse, when the monotony of
+their lives was broken by the arrival of an old friend of Madame
+Dumesnil--a Monsieur de Vaissiere. When they had last met, she was in
+the morning of her beauty and bliss, he a handsome youth, for whom
+many a fair one had sighed, and in vain--as he was still unmarried.
+What a change! He could not recognize the lovely young countess, whose
+marriage had been attended with so much éclat--so many rejoicings; nor
+could she see one vestige of the blooming countenance, the delicate
+profile, and the jet-black wavy locks that once shaded his fair, open
+brow. But these works of time were soon forgotten, and the desire of
+the proud, harsh mother was accomplished when, after a few weeks, M.
+de Vaissiere proposed for the hapless Pauline. Unconsciously, but with
+the thoughtlessness of selfishness, Madame Dumesnil sacrificed her
+child to her prejudices. M. de Vaissiere's opinions and _hers_ were
+the same; their admiration of _le vieux systeme_--their fond
+recollection of the unfortunate monarch, whose weakness they had never
+reproached him with, even in their secret souls--their abhorrence of
+Bonaparte--their contempt for _la noblesse Napoleonne_--their upturned
+noses at their adopted countrymen, _les Americains_--their want of
+faith in hearts and love--the sinecure-ism of young people--their
+presumption--their misfortune being that they _were_ young and not
+born old--and finally, the coincidence of opinions wherein both looked
+upon the white-headed suitor as a most eligible husband for the young,
+the blooming, the beautiful Pauline.
+
+M. de Vaissiere settled a _dot_ upon his _fiancée_, and ordered a
+_trousseau_ and a _corbeille_, not forgetting the _cachemire_. The
+preliminaries were arranged, the day hinted at, and Pauline was
+informed with a flourish of trumpets that her destiny was fixed.
+
+She listened to her mother's rhapsodies over the admirable _parti_
+Providence had enabled her to provide for her child in the wilderness
+of America; she heard her enlarge upon her own excellence as a parent,
+of the favor she had conferred upon her in bringing her into the
+world; of her consequent obligations, and the gratitude she owed her
+mother when she recollected that not content with giving her life, she
+had clothed, fed, and supported her until now. All this Pauline
+received in a silence that resembled stupor; but when M. de Vaissiere
+was again mentioned, she fell, with a scream of terror, at her
+mother's feet.
+
+In vain she wept and entreated; in vain she protested against the
+disparity of age, the utter want of congeniality, the absence of all
+affection, Madame Dumesnil was too much incensed to reply. With a
+gesture that Pauline well understood, (for it was used to express
+maledictions of every description,) she left the room, and locking the
+door, kept her daughter prisoner for the rest of the day.
+
+She treated this resistance to her will as one of the unhappy
+consequences of living in a republican country. She suspected Angela
+of communicating American ideas of independence to her daughter, and
+would have added to her wretchedness by forbidding further intercourse
+between the two friends. But Jeannette again interfered; she knew that
+Pauline's doom was sealed, and that it would be more than cruel to
+deprive her of the companion she loved. She herself carried the note
+that conveyed the intelligence of Pauline's coming fate to the
+indignant Angela, and extended her walks that her poor young lady
+might derive what consolation she could from her friend's willing
+sympathy. Many were the tears she shed, many the sighs that burst from
+her oppressed heart, as the poor old creature followed behind them.
+Once she had summoned courage sufficient to expostulate with her
+mistress upon the cruelty of her conduct to her daughter; but she was
+haughtily dismissed.
+
+Every effort had been made, and at length Angela appealed to Pauline.
+She entreated her to be more firm, and to declare her resolution never
+to marry where she could not love.
+
+"Rouse yourself, Pauline--the misery of a lifetime is before you, and
+it is not yet too late."
+
+"I have done every thing, Angela," said Pauline, despairingly. "My
+doom is sealed, and I must bend to my bitter fate. I would fly, but
+that I could not survive my mother's curse."
+
+"The curse of the unrighteous availeth naught," replied her friend,
+solemnly. "Were you wrongfully opposing your mother's will, mine
+would be the last voice to uphold you; but now your very soul is at
+stake."
+
+Pauline cast up her eyes in mute appeal to heaven. Her companion
+became excited as she proceeded, depicting the horrors of an unequal
+marriage. Pale and exhausted, her listener at length entreated her to
+forbear. She had been too long the slave of her mother's wishes to
+oppose them now; she had been drilled into fear until it was a
+weakness. This her bold-hearted, energetic friend could not
+understand; and it was on her reproaching Pauline with moral cowardice
+that she, for the first time, resented what had in fact been patiently
+borne.
+
+We have seen how kindly Angela forgave the accusation, and how she
+wept over the effect of her words. The sudden entrance of Madame
+Dumesnil put an end to the conversation, and the friends separated.
+
+The next morning Angela was at Pauline's side again. Silently she
+assisted in decorating the victim for the sacrifice. The bright jewels
+clasped her arm and neck; the long veil hung around her slender form;
+the orange wreath rested on the dark, dark tresses--and the dress was
+beautiful. But the bride! she was pale and ghastly, and her lips blue
+and quivering. Her eyes were void of all expression--those liquid,
+lustrous eyes; and ever and anon the large drops rolled over her face,
+oozing from the depths of her heart.
+
+Poor Jeannette turned away, sobbing convulsively as the finishing
+touches were given to this sad bridal toilette. Angela remained firm
+and collected, but she, too, was pale; her cherished companion was
+gone from her forever--gone in such misery, too, that she almost
+prayed to see her the corpse she at that moment resembled.
+
+Madame Dumesnil had remained below with the bridegroom and Mr. Percy,
+the sole witness to this ill-omened marriage. At length the hour came,
+Pauline was nearly carried down by Angela and Jeannette, and in a few
+moments bound forever to a man she loathed. The ceremony was ended,
+and the bride, with a convulsive sigh, fell back into the arms of her
+mother. Restoratives were procured, and at last she opened her eyes.
+They rested on the face of her friend, who hung over her in mute
+agony. Forcing a smile, which was taken by M. de Vaissiere for
+himself, Pauline arose, and hurried through her farewell. Her husband
+handed her into his carriage--and thus Pauline Dumesnil left her
+friends and her home.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+Years had passed, and Pauline sat alone in her magnificent boudoir,
+the presiding deity of one of the finest hotels in Paris. Fortune had
+favored M. de Vaissiere. He had lived to rejoice over the downfall of
+the mighty Napoleon, and his mournful exile. He had returned to his
+beloved France, recovered his vast estates, and presented his young
+wife at court. His vanity was flattered at her gracious reception, and
+the admiration that followed her; his pride was roused, and, much
+against her will, Pauline found herself the centre of a gay circle
+that crowded her vast saloons as often as they were thrown open for
+the reception of her now numerous acquaintances.
+
+It was on one of these evenings that Pauline sought the silence of her
+private apartment ere she gave herself up to her femme de chambre. Her
+loose _peignoir_ of white satin was gathered round her, with a crimson
+cord tied negligently at the waist, and hanging, with its rich tassels
+of silver mixed, to the ground. Her hair had fallen over her
+shoulders, giving her a look of sadness that increased her beauty. Her
+eyes wandered around the room, and her lips parted into a melancholy
+smile, as she contemplated its delicate silk hangings, its heavy,
+costly furniture, her magnificent toilette, crowded with perfumes of
+every description, beautiful flacons, silver combs, and jewels that
+sparkled in and out of their cases. Her thoughts went back to her
+mother, whose pride had made her a childless, lonely widow; to Angela,
+whom she had so loved; to the misery of the day upon which they
+parted, perhaps forever--and her eyes were filled with tears that,
+rolling at length over her cheek, startled her as they fell upon her
+hand.
+
+"And it was for this that I was sacrificed," murmured she, bending her
+head. "My poor mother! could you see me here, _you_ would feel that my
+happiness is secure; but, alas! how little you know of the human
+heart. This splendor lends weight to my chains, and makes me feel more
+desolate than ever! Night after night mingling in gay crowds,
+listening to honied words that fall unheeded on my ear; wearing smiles
+that come not from the heart, but help to break it; exposed to
+temptation, that makes me fear to mix with those of my own age; bound
+forever to a man whose only sentiment for me is one of pride--what
+part of happiness is mine?"
+
+A sudden step aroused her, and her husband entered unannounced. He
+looked but little older. Time had dealt lightly with _him_, and with
+the aid of cosmetics and a perfect toilette, M. de Vaissiere stood a
+remarkable looking man--for his age.
+
+"How is this, madame--not dressed yet! Have you no anxiety to see
+Mademoiselle Mars to night?"
+
+"I have, indeed," said Pauline, starting up and forcing a smile. "Is
+it so late, that I see you ready?"
+
+"You must hasten Marie, or we shall be too late. How provoking! What
+can you do with that dishevelled hair? You have a bad habit of
+thinking--that is actually sinful. Why do you not take my example; I
+never reflect--it makes one grow old!"
+
+She might have told him how her young life was embittered by the
+memory of days that were gone never to return; how she had grown old
+with thinking, and wore but the semblance of youth over a withered
+heart. But she had schooled herself to serenity with an effort almost
+superhuman--and seizing a silver bell at her side, she rang for her
+waiting woman.
+
+"You must hasten, Marie--Monsieur de Vaissiere is already dressed.
+Bind up this hair beneath some net-work, my good girl; I have no time
+for embellishing this evening."
+
+"Madame is more beautiful without her usual coiffure," said the girl,
+as she gathered up the dark tresses of her mistress. "I shall place
+her diamond _aigrette_ in her hair, and she will turn all heads."
+
+"I have no such ambition, my good Marie," said Pauline, laughing.
+"Give me my fan and gloves, and fasten this bracelet for me."
+
+"_Tenez, madame_," said Marie, handing them; and Pauline ran down
+stairs, where her husband awaited her. He had just been fretted
+sufficiently to find fault with her dress.
+
+"You never wear jewels enough. Do you think I bought them to ornament
+your boudoir?"
+
+"I did not like to keep you waiting, _mon ami_. Shall I return and
+tell Marie to give me my necklace?"
+
+"Yes, and your bracelet to match. Your white arm, madame, was made to
+ornament," added M. de Vaissiere, assuming an air of gallantry.
+
+Pauline smiled, and ran back to her boudoir. In a few moments she
+returned blazing with jewels, inwardly lamenting the display, but ever
+ready to grant her husband's wish. He, too, smiled as she came
+forward, and taking her hand, led her to her carriage.
+
+Shortly after they were seated, the door opened, and the young Vicomte
+de H---- entered the box. He placed himself behind Pauline, and
+remained there for the rest of the evening, in eager, animated
+conversation. He was not only one of the most agreeable men of the
+day, but added to wit and versatility of genius, a handsome face,
+graceful bearing, and a noble heart; and while Pauline yielded to the
+charms of so delightful a companion, full of the dreams and hopes of
+youth, uttering sentiments that years ago had been hers, her husband
+sat silent and moody beside her. A pang went through his heart as he
+gazed upon her bright countenance, and remembered her youth, whose
+sunshine was extinguished by her marriage with him. He looked at the
+smooth, full cheek of her companion, the purple gloss of his raven
+locks, the fire of his eye, and listening to his gay tones, his
+brilliant repartees, and enthusiastic expressions, pictured him with a
+shudder the husband of Pauline. What would have been her life compared
+to the one she led with him. How different would have been the bridal!
+He thought of her gentleness, her cheerful compliance with his wishes,
+her calm, subdued look, her lonely hours, the void that must be in her
+heart; and as all these things passed, for the first time, through his
+mind, he clasped his hands in despair.
+
+He turned once more to look upon the wife he was but now beginning to
+appreciate. She, too, had fallen in a revery. Her beautiful head was
+bent, her long, dark lashes sweeping her cheek; and around her lips
+played a smile so sweet, that though he know her thoughts were far
+away in some pleasant wandering, he was sure he had no part in them.
+
+For the first time since their wedded life, M. de Vaissiere was
+beginning to love his wife. He turned suddenly to look at the Vicomte
+de H----. He, too, was gazing upon Pauline with a look of intense
+admiration, but so full of pity and respect, that it made the jealous
+pang that thrilled through the husband's frame less bitter--and with a
+deep sigh he turned to the stage. The play was one that gave him a
+lesson for the rest of his days. It represented a young girl like his
+Pauline, forced to wed one, like him, old enough to be her father. For
+a while all went smoothly; the giddy wife was dazzled by her jewels
+and her importance. But time passed, and she was roughly treated, her
+every wish thwarted, and her very servants taught to disobey her. Her
+angelic behaviour had no effect upon her brutal husband; her patience
+exasperated him. Wickedly he exposed her to temptation; and as he
+watched her mingle with those of her own age, and share their plans
+and pleasures, suspicion entered his mind. He removed her far from her
+friends, and intercepted her letters, making himself master of their
+contents, until by a series of persecutions he drove her to fly from
+him, and perish in the attempt.
+
+Well for him was it that Monsieur de Vaissiere witnessed this play.
+How different might have been the effect of his newly awakened
+emotions, had they risen in the solitude of his apartment. The curtain
+fell, and Pauline looked up. Tears were standing in her eyes--for the
+fate of the heroine of the piece had affected her deeply, and her
+husband's sympathy was with her when he remarked them. He waited until
+he saw her give her arm to the vicomte, and walked behind them,
+another creature. He had determined to win his wife's love or die; to
+watch her, that he might warn her; to minister forever to her
+comforts.
+
+The vicomte returned with them, and soon the splendid salon was
+crowded with guests. Pauline passed from one to the other with
+graceful, winning smiles; and her husband's heart filled with pride
+and pleasure as he watched her, the object of admiration, glittering
+with diamonds, radiant with beauty, and remembered that she was his.
+Without a pang he saw the noble youth, whose coming had been to him
+salvation, lead her to supper, and seat himself at her side. He knew
+that she was pleased; he felt that she might have loved; but he knew,
+too, that she was as pure as an angel. How was it that suddenly her
+many virtues rose in array before him, and spoke to his heart?
+
+One evening Pauline stood at the window overlooking the garden that
+was behind the Hotel de Vaissiere. The moonlight was glancing over the
+tops of the orange trees, and the perfume of their white blossoms came
+floating up like an incense of thanks to the Great Author of all,
+while fountains played beneath their shade, falling musically on the
+heart of the lonely watcher.
+
+A shade was upon her brow--a shade of discontent; and busy were the
+thoughts that came creeping into her soul. She was judging her own
+heart--and bitterly did she reproach it as the image of another filled
+its space. Alas! she had feared this; and again she was roused into
+indignation as her mother's stern will was recalled to her--and she
+was carried back to the day whereon she had reproached her with
+hazarding the eternal welfare of her child. Throwing herself upon her
+knees, she prayed for strength--and her prayer was heard. Suddenly, as
+if struck with some impulse, she hurried from the window, through the
+hall, passed the long suite of apartments, and reached her husband's.
+Entering, she closed the door behind her, and rushed forward to M. de
+Vaissiere's chair with such passionate rapidity, that one might have
+thought she feared to fail in her resolution.
+
+Her sobs and tears had nearly deprived her of utterance, but falling
+at her husband's feet, she confessed the momentary infidelity of her
+hitherto love-less heart, and besought him to take her from those
+scenes of gayety and temptation to some distant, quiet region, that
+she might expiate her fault in solitude.
+
+Trembling she raised her eyes to his face. Instead of the fury, the
+reproaches she had expected, what was her surprise at seeing the tears
+coursing down his cheeks, to feel herself raised and clasped to his
+breast.
+
+"My poor child!" said he, tenderly--and it was the first time he had
+ever so addressed her--"my poor child! I should have foreseen this; I
+should have warned you ere now. It was your mother's fault to marry
+you to me, and mine to have placed temptation in your way. But how
+could I tear you from those whose years were suited to yours, to shut
+you up with an old greybeard! Thus, while I watched over you, my pride
+in your success made me forgetful of your safety. It is not yet too
+late, my Pauline--all will be for the best. In time you will learn to
+love your husband, and to know how devotedly he has loved you since
+his stupid eyes were opened to your virtues."
+
+With a smothered cry of joy Pauline threw herself upon his bosom. The
+poor stricken dove had at last found a shelter.
+
+The next day, while the whole world was lamenting and wondering over
+the determination of the beautiful, brilliant, and courted Pauline de
+Vaissiere, to leave the gay metropolis in the midst of its pleasure,
+she sat once more in her boudoir. A holy calm had settled on her brow,
+peace had entered her heart; and though a deep blush overspread her
+features as she heard her husband's step approaching, she rose to meet
+him with a grateful look. Putting his arm around her, he drew her
+closer to him, and pressed a kiss upon her forehead.
+
+"How many days of packing will you require, Pauline?" said he,
+smiling. "Poor Marie! she has nearly worn her arms out."
+
+"She will complete her task to-night; and if you like, we can be off
+in the morning. But have you the carriages ready, _mon ami_? Are we
+not before-hand with you?" asked Pauline, in the same cheerful strain.
+
+"We must summon François," said M. de Vaissiere, "and see if my orders
+have been executed."
+
+François had been as prompt as usual; and three days after,
+we found Pauline gazing out at the windows, mournful and
+conscience-stricken--she was leaving Paris behind her as fast as four
+horses and cracking whips could carry her. As they drove on, losing
+sight of its towers and steeples, a sensation of freedom came over
+her, and she placed her hand in her husband's, as if to thank him for
+her safety. The wound upon her heart was not yet closed; but her firm
+principle, her love of right, and gratitude for her deliverance, and
+the indulgence of M. de Vaissiere were fast healing what she did not
+for a moment allow to rest within her mind.
+
+Every thing delighted her; the ploughed fields, divided by green
+hedges; the farm-houses scattered far and near; the picturesque
+appearance of the peasantry and their groupings, as they gathered
+together to watch the travelers' suite; and when they stopped at a
+family estate of M. de Vassiere, her enthusiasm knew no bounds.
+
+Here they remained until the spring was past and summer came,
+embellishing still more the beautiful woods around the little domain.
+But they lingered yet in this pleasant place, loving it for the peace
+it had given them, and the happiness they had learned to feel in being
+together.
+
+Leaning on her husband's arm, Pauline wandered amid the bright scenes
+with a light step, now stopping to admire some variety of foliage, and
+now pausing by the crystal stream that ran at the foot of the tall
+trees, murmuring like a hidden sprite, and mirroring the waving
+boughs, and the blue sky of _la belle France_. She had forgotten the
+misery of her bridal-day, or remembered it but to contrast her present
+quiet enjoyment of life with her then wretchedness. She had forgotten
+her youth of terror, her husband's years and his coldness, and now,
+when she looked upon the silver hair that glittered beside her braids
+of jet, a feeling of gratitude filled her heart, as she recalled the
+hour when he might have cast her off with some show of justice, and
+sent her forth upon the wide world to die.
+
+She had learned to love him, not with the heart-stirring love of youth
+for youth, but with the deep, holy affection of a prodigal child. Not
+all the temptations of the gay world could ever make her swerve from
+her allegiance to him. Like a good and pious daughter did she cling to
+him, providing for his comfort, and forseeing his every want.
+
+One day he called her to him as she returned from her visit of charity
+to the surrounding peasantry. She had wept over their troubles and
+relieved them, and rejoiced with the happy. Her heart was
+over-flowing, and passing the little church, she entered, and offered
+up a prayer of thankfulness for her own blessings, and those she was
+able to confer on others.
+
+Her husband watched her graceful form as she came at his call, and
+smilingly placed a letter in her hand. It was from her mother, and
+part of it ran thus:
+
+         "I am now very old, monsieur, and very infirm. I
+         have often thought, in my lonely hours, of the
+         unhappiness of my child on her marriage with you,
+         and have doubted the wisdom of that authority which
+         I exercised so severely over her. The vision of
+         that pale, agonized countenance, comes upon me like
+         a reproach; and although she has never hinted in
+         one of her letters of unkindness from you, I have
+         often thought that there was a mournful spirit
+         pervading them. Pray God she may not be unhappy
+         through my fault! I rely upon you, monsieur; be
+         kind to my poor Pauline.
+                            MARIE THERESE CLEMENCE DUMESNIL.
+                                      (_Née de Villeneuve_.)"
+
+Pauline's tears fell fast over this letter; and as she finished
+reading it, she cast herself upon her husband's bosom.
+
+"She does not deserve a reply, does she, Pauline?" asked he, with a
+smile, and pressing her closer to him. "Think you there would be no
+more marriages _de convenance_ if we were to give the benefit of our
+experience to the world? Would your mother even be sensible of her
+error, could she know how your suffering has ended--could she see how
+happy you make an old man."
+
+"Let her think that we have been always so," cried the noble Pauline.
+"Why disturb her last years with a narrative of what may embitter
+them? Shall it not be so, my dear, kind husband?"
+
+"It shall, my child," said he, touched by the generosity of her
+request. "And you, Pauline, shall write the answer--you, my patient,
+enduring, and admirable wife! Why is it that I alone know what you
+have suffered, forced thus to appreciate in silence your noble
+forbearance."
+
+But there was another letter to be read--one from Angela. It contained
+an account of Madame Dumesnil's failing strength, and her earnest
+desire to embrace her child once more. Jeannette was long since
+numbered with the dead; and Angela, whose devotion to her father had
+made her refuse every offer of marriage, removed with him to the abode
+of her friend's mother, passing her life in dividing her cares.
+
+But a short time elapsed and Pauline, with her husband, was sailing
+once more upon the broad bosom of the Atlantic. It was a long and
+tedious voyage; but she arrived in time to receive her mother's
+blessing, and close her eyes--the reward her filial piety had merited.
+
+Mr. Percy soon followed his aged companion, and Angela returned with
+Pauline to France. Here she witnessed, with wonder and delight, the
+happiness that, through Pauline's virtue, was not incompatible with so
+great a disparity of age, and rejoiced when a few months after their
+arrival in Paris, Pauline gave birth to a son and heir. Nothing now
+was wanting to complete the domestic enjoyment of the circle gathered
+at the Hotel de Vaissiere; and while the same gay crowds graced its
+walls, and courted its fair mistress, Pauline never forgot to turn to
+her husband as the one whose smile was to her the brightest, whose
+praise the most valued, and whose approbation alone she loved and
+lived for.
+
+
+
+
+THE HERMIT OF NIAGARA.
+
+BY MRS. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
+
+
+    It was the leafy month of June,
+    And joyous Nature, all in tune,
+      With wreathing buds was drest,
+    As toward the mighty cataract's side
+      A youthful stranger prest;
+    His ruddy cheek was blanched with awe,
+    And scarce he seemed his breath to draw,
+      While bending o'er its brim,
+    He marked its strong, unfathomed tide,
+      And heard its thunder-hymn.
+
+    His measured week too quickly fled,
+    Another, and another sped,
+    And soon the summer-rose decayed,
+    The moon of autumn sank in shade,
+      And winter hurled its dart,
+    Years filled their circle, brief and fair,
+    Yet still the enthusiast lingered there,
+    While deeper round his soul was wove
+    A mystic chain of fearful love,
+      That would not let him part.
+
+    When darkest midnight veiled the sky,
+    You'd hear his hasting step go by,
+    To gain the bridge beside the deep,
+    That where its wildest torrents leap
+      Hangs thread-like o'er the surge,
+      Just there, upon its awful verge,
+        His vigil-hour to keep.
+
+    And when the moon, descending low,
+    Hung on the flood that gleaming bow,
+    Which it would seem some angel's hand,
+    With Heaven's own pencil, tinged and spanned,
+    Pure symbol of a better land,
+    He, kneeling, poured in utterance free
+    The eloquence of ecstasy;
+    Though to his words no answer came,
+    Save that One, Everlasting Name,
+    Which since Creation's morning broke
+    Niagara's lip alone hath spoke.
+
+    When wintry tempests shook the sky,
+    And the rent pine-tree hurtled by,
+    Unblenching, 'mid the storm he stood,
+    And marked sublime the wrathful flood,
+    While wrought the frost-king, fierce and drear,
+    His palace 'mid those cliffs to rear,
+    And strike the massy buttress strong,
+    And pile his sleet the rocks among,
+    And wasteful deck the branches bare
+    With icy diamonds, rich and rare.
+
+    Nor lacked the hermit's humble shed
+      Such comforts as our natures ask
+      To fit them for life's daily task.
+    The cheering fire, the peaceful bed,
+    The simple meal in season spread,
+    While by the lone lamp's trembling light,
+    As blazed the hearth-stone, clear and bright,
+      O'er Homer's page he hung,
+    Or Maro's martial numbers scanned--
+
+    For classic lore of many a land
+      Flowed smoothly o'er his tongue.
+    Oft with rapt eye, and skill profound,
+    He woke the entrancing viol's sound,
+      Or touched the sweet guitar.
+    For heavenly music deigned to dwell
+    An inmate in his cloistered cell,
+      As beams the solem star,
+    All night, with meditative eyes
+    Where some lone, rock-bound fountain lies.
+
+    As through the groves, with quiet tread,
+    On his accustomed haunts he sped,
+    The mother-thrush, unstartled, sung
+    Her descant to her callow young,
+    And fearless o'er his threshold prest
+    The wanderer from the sparrow's nest,
+    The squirrel raised a sparkling eye
+    Nor from his kernel cared to fly
+    As passed that gentle hermit by.
+    No timid creature shrank to meet
+    His pensive glance, serenely sweet;
+    From his own kind, alone, he sought
+    The screen of solitary thought.
+    Whether the world too harshly prest
+    Its iron o'er a yielding breast,
+    Or forced his morbid youth to prove
+    The pang of unrequited love,
+    We know not, for he never said
+    Aught of the life he erst had led.
+
+    On Iris isle, a summer-bower
+    He twined with branch and vine and flower,
+    And there he mused on rustic seat,
+    Unconscious of the noonday heat,
+    Or 'neath the crystal waters lay,
+    Luxuriant, in the swimmer's play.
+
+    Yet once the whelming flood grew strong.
+    And bore him like a weed along,
+    Though with convulsive grasp of pain
+    And heaving breast, he strove in vain,
+    Then sinking 'neath the infuriate tide,
+    Lone, as he lived, the hermit died.
+
+    On, by the rushing current swept,
+    The lifeless corse its voyage kept,
+    To where, in narrow gorge comprest,
+    The whirlpool-eddies never rest,
+    But boil with wild tumultuous sway,
+    The Maelstrom of Niagara.
+    And there, within that rocky bound,
+    In swift gyrations round and round,
+      Mysterious course it held,
+    Now springing from the torrent hoarse,
+    Now battling, as with maniac force,
+      To mortal strife compelled.
+
+    Right fearful, 'neath the moonbeam bright,
+    It was to see that brow so white,
+    And mark the ghastly dead
+    Leap upward from his torture-bed,
+      As if in passion-gust,
+    And tossing wild with agony
+    Resist the omnipotent decree
+      Of dust to dust.
+
+    At length, where smoother waters flow,
+    Emerging from the abyss below,
+    The hapless youth they gained, and bore
+    Sad to his own forsaken door.
+    There watched his dog, with straining eye,
+    And scarce would let the train pass by,
+      Save that with instinct's rushing spell,
+    Through the changed cheek's empurpled hue,
+    And stiff and stony form, he knew
+      The master he had loved so well.
+    The kitten fair, whose graceful wile
+    So oft had won his musing smile,
+    As round his slippered foot she played,
+    Stretched on his vacant pillow laid.
+    While strewed around, on board and chair,
+      The last-plucked flower, the book last read,
+      The ready pen, the page outspread,
+      The water cruse, the unbroken bread--
+    Revealed how sudden was the snare
+      That swept him to the dead.
+
+    And so, he rests in foreign earth,
+    Who drew 'mid Albion's vales his birth:
+    Yet let no cynic phrase unkind
+    Condemn that youth of gentle mind--
+    Of shrinking nerve, and lonely heart,
+    And lettered lore, and tuneful art,
+      Who here his humble worship paid
+    In that most glorious temple-shrine,
+    Where to the Majesty Divine
+      Nature her noblest altar made.
+
+    No, blame him not, but praise the Power
+    Who, in the dear domestic bower,
+    Hath given you firmer strength to rear
+    The plants of love--with toil and fear--
+    The beam to meet, the blast to dare,
+    And like a faithful soldier bear;
+    Still with sad heart his requiem pour,
+    Amid the cataract's ceaseless roar,
+    And bid one tear of pitying gloom
+    Bedew that meek enthusiast's tomb.
+
+
+
+
+BURIAL OF A VOLUNTEER.
+
+BY PARK BENJAMIN.
+
+
+    'Tis eve! one brightly-beaming star
+    Shines from the eastern heavens afar,
+    To light the footsteps of the brave,
+    Slow marching to a comrade's grave.
+
+    The Northern wind has sunk to sleep;
+    The sweet South breathes; as low and deep
+    The martial clang is heard, the tread
+    Of those who bear the silent dead.
+
+    And whose the form, all stark and cold,
+    Thus ready for the loosened mould;
+    Thus stretched upon so rude a bier?
+    Thine, soldier, thine--the volunteer!
+
+    Poor volunteer! the shot, the blow,
+    Or fell disease hath laid him low--
+    And few his early loss deplore--
+    His battle done, his journey o'er.
+
+    Alas! no fond wife's arms caressed,
+    His cheeks no tender mother pressed,
+    No pitying soul was by his side,
+    As, lonely in his tent, he died.
+
+    He died--the volunteer--at noon;
+    At evening came the small platoon;
+    And soon they'll leave him to his rest,
+    With sods upon his manly breast.
+
+    Hark to their fire! his only knell,
+    More solemn than the passing bell;
+    For, ah! it tells a spirit flown
+    Without a prayer or sigh, alone!
+
+    His name and fate shall fade away,
+    Forgotten since his dying day,
+    And never on the roll of fame
+    Shall be inscribed his humble name.
+
+    Alas! like him how many more
+    Lie cold on Rio Grande's shore;
+    How many green, unnoted graves
+    Are bordered by those turbid waves!
+
+    Sleep, soldier, sleep! from sorrow free
+    And sin and strife: 'tis well with thee!
+    'Tis well, though not a single tear
+    Laments the buried volunteer.
+
+
+
+
+THE BRIDAL MORNING.
+
+[SEE ENGRAVING.]
+
+
+    Morn of hopes that, quivering, glow
+      With a light ne'er known before;
+    Morn of fears, which cannot throw
+      Shadows its sweet glory o'er!
+
+    Gentle thoughts of all the past;
+      Happy thoughts of all to come;
+    Loving thoughts, like rose-leaves, cast
+      Over all around her home.
+
+    Oh, the light upon that brow;
+      Oh, the love within that eye!
+    Oh, the pleasant dreams that flow
+      Like fairy music sweetly by!
+
+    Morn of Hope! Oh may its light
+      Melt but into brighter day!
+    Lady, all that's blest and bright
+      Be about thy path alway!
+
+
+
+
+HOME.
+
+BY MRS. H. MARION WARD.
+
+
+"_Home, sweet home!"_ How many holy and beautiful memories are crowded
+into those three little words. How does the absent one, when weary
+with the cold world's strife, return, like the dove of the deluge, to
+that bright spot amid the troubled waters of life. "_Home, sweet
+home!_" The one household plant that blooms on and on, amid the
+withering heart-flowers, that brightens up amidst tempests and storms,
+and gives its sweetest fragrance when all else is gloom and
+desolation. We never know how deeply its roots are entwined with our
+heart-strings, till bitter lessons of wasted affection have taught us
+to appreciate that love which remains the same through years of
+estrangement. What exile from the spot of his birth but remembers,
+perhaps with bitterness, the time when falsehood and deceit first
+broke up the beautiful dreams of his soul, when he learned to _see_
+the world in its true colors. How his heart ached for his father's
+look of kindness--his mother's voice of sympathy--a sister's or
+brother's hand to clasp in the warm embrace of kindred affection.
+Poor, home-sick wanderer! I can feel for your loneliness; for my heart
+often weeps tears of bitterness over the memories of a far-off home,
+and in sympathy with a gray-haired father, who, when he calls his
+little band around the hearth-stone, misses full many a link in the
+chain of social affection. I can feel for your loneliness, for perhaps
+you have a father, too, whose eyes have grown dim by long looking into
+the tomb of love. Perhaps you, too, have a mother, sleeping in some
+distant grave-yard, beneath the flowers your hands have planted; and
+as life's path grows still more rugged before you, you wonder, as I
+have done, when your time will come to lie down and sleep quietly with
+_her_. An incident occurred on board of one of the western steamers,
+some years since, which strongly impressed me with its truthfulness in
+proving how wildly the heart clings to home reminiscences when absent
+from that spot. A party of emigrants had taken passage, amongst whom
+was a young Swiss girl, accompanied by a small brother. Not even the
+_outré_ admixture of Swiss, German, and English costume, which
+composed her dress, could conceal the fact that she was supremely
+beautiful; and as the emigrants were separated from what is termed the
+first-class passengers only by a slight railing, I had an opportunity
+of inspecting her appearance without giving offence by marked
+observation. Amongst the crowd there happened to be a set of German
+musicians, who, by amusing the _ennuied_ passengers, reaped quite a
+harvest of silver for their exertions. I have always heard that the
+Germans were extremely fond of music, and was surprised that none of
+the party, not even the beautiful Swiss girl, gave the slightest
+indication of pleasure, or once removed from the position they had
+occupied the whole way. Indeed, I was becoming quite indignant, that
+the soul-stirring Marseilles Hymn of France, the God Save the Queen of
+England, and last, not _least_ in its impressive melody, the Hail
+Columbia of our own nation, should have pealed its music out upon the
+great waters, almost hushing their mighty swell with its enchantment,
+and yet not waken an echo in the hearts of those homeless wanderers.
+The musicians paused to rest for a moment, and then suddenly, as if by
+magic, the glorious _Rans des Vache_ of Switzerland stole over the
+water, with its touching pathos swelling into grand sublimity, its
+home-music melting away in love, and then bursting forth in the free,
+glad strains of revelry, till every breath was hushed as by the
+presence of visible beauty. Having never before heard this beautiful
+melody, in my surprise and admiration I had quite forgotten my
+emigrant friends, when a low sob attracted my attention, and turning
+round, I saw the Swiss girl, with her head buried in the lap of an old
+woman, trying to stifle the tears that _would_ force their way or
+break the heart that held them. I had but a slight knowledge of the
+Swiss dialect, and "my home, my beautiful home!" was the only words
+intelligible to me. She wept long and bitterly after the cadence of
+the song was lost amongst the waves, while the old woman, blessings on
+her for the act, sought by every endearment within her power to soothe
+and encourage the home-sick girl. There was little enow of refinement
+in her rough sympathy, but it was a heart-tribute--and I could almost
+love her for the unselfishness with which she drew the shrinking form
+closer to her bosom. I would have given the world to have learned that
+girl's previous history. I am sure _accident_ must have thrown her
+amongst her present associates, as I have seen a lily broken from its
+stem by a sudden gust of wind, and flung to wither and die amid rude
+and hardy weeds. In a few hours the party left the boat, and I never
+saw either her or them again; but, till this day, whenever any
+incident of a domestic nature wakens old-time dreams, pleasant
+memories of that beautiful exile, weeping over the music of her lost
+Eden, and of the kind old woman caressing her, and kissing off the
+falling tears, creep together, and form a lovely picture of _home and
+heaven-born love_.
+
+
+
+
+MARGINALIA.
+
+BY EDGAR A. POE.
+
+
+That punctuation is important all agree; but how few comprehend the
+extent of its importance! The writer who neglects punctuation, or
+mis-punctuates, is liable to be misunderstood--this, according to the
+popular idea, is the sum of the evils arising from heedlessness or
+ignorance. It does not seem to be known that, even where the sense is
+perfectly clear, a sentence may be deprived of half its force--its
+spirit--its point--by improper punctuation. For the want of merely a
+comma, it often occurs that an axiom appears a paradox, or that a
+sarcasm is converted into a sermonoid.
+
+There is _no_ treatise on the topic--and there is no topic on which a
+treatise is more needed. There seems to exist a vulgar notion that the
+subject is one of pure conventionality, and cannot be brought within
+the limits of intelligibly and consistent _rule_. And yet, if fairly
+looked in the face, the whole matter is so plain that its _rationale_
+may be read as we run. If not anticipated, I shall, hereafter, make an
+attempt at a magazine paper on "The Philosophy of Point."
+
+In the meantime let me say a word or two of _the dash_. Every writer
+for the press, who has any sense of the accurate, must have been
+frequently mortified and vexed at the distortion of his sentences by
+the printer's now general substitution of a semicolon, or comma, for
+the dash of the MS. The total or nearly total disuse of the latter
+point, has been brought about by the revulsion consequent upon its
+excessive employment about twenty years ago. The Byronic poets were
+_all_ dash. John Neal, in his earlier novels, exaggerated its use into
+the grossest abuse--although his very error arose from the
+philosophical and self-dependent spirit which has always distinguished
+him, and which will even yet lead him, if I am not greatly mistaken in
+the man, to do something for the literature of the country which the
+country "will not willingly," and cannot possibly, "let die."
+
+Without entering now into the _why_, let me observe that the printer
+may always ascertain when the dash of the MS. is properly and when
+improperly employed, by bearing in mind that this point represents _a
+second thought--an emendation_. In using it just above I have
+exemplified its use. The words "an emendation" are, speaking with
+reference to grammatical construction, put in _ap_position with the
+words "a second thought." Having written these latter words, I
+reflected whether it would not be possible to render their meaning
+more distinct by certain other words. Now, instead of erasing the
+phrase "a second thought," which is of _some_ use--which _partially_
+conveys the idea intended--which advances me _a step toward_ my full
+purpose--I suffer it to remain, and merely put a dash between it and
+the phrase "an emendation." The dash gives the reader a choice between
+two, or among three or more expressions, one of which may be more
+forcible than another, but all of which help out the idea. It stands,
+in general, for these words--"_or, to make my meaning more distinct_."
+This force _it has_--and this force no other point can have; since all
+other points have well-understood uses quite different from this.
+Therefore, the dash _cannot_ be dispensed with.
+
+It has its phases--its variation of the force described; but the one
+principle--that of second thought or emendation--will be found at the
+bottom of all.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+In a reply to a letter signed "Outis," and defending Mr. Longfellow
+from certain charges supposed to have been made against him by myself,
+I took occasion to assert that "of the class of willful plagiarists
+nine out of ten are authors of established reputation who plunder
+recondite, neglected, or forgotten books." I came to this conclusion
+_à priori_; but experience has confirmed me in it. Here is a
+plagiarism from Channing; and as it is perpetrated by an anonymous
+writer in a Monthly Magazine, the theft seems at war with my
+assertion--until it is seen that the Magazine in question is
+Campbell's New Monthly for _August_, 1828. Channing, at that time, was
+comparatively unknown; and, besides, the plagiarism appeared in a
+foreign country, where there was little probability of detection.
+
+Channing, in his essay on Bonaparte, says:
+
+         "We would observe that military talent, even of the
+         highest order, is far from holding the first place
+         among intellectual endowments. It is one of the
+         lower forms of genius, for it is not conversant
+         with the highest and richest objects of thought....
+         Still the chief work of a general is to apply
+         physical force--to remove physical obstructions--to
+         avail himself of physical aids and advantages--to
+         act on matter--to overcome rivers, ramparts,
+         mountains, and human muscles; and these are not the
+         highest objects of mind, nor do they demand
+         intelligence of the highest order:--and accordingly
+         nothing is more common than to find men, eminent in
+         this department, who are almost wholly wanting in
+         the noblest energies of the soul--in imagination
+         and taste--in the capacity of enjoying works of
+         genius--in large views of human nature--in the
+         moral sciences--in the application of analysis and
+         generalization to the human mind and to society,
+         and in original conceptions on the great subjects
+         which have absorbed the most glorious
+         understandings."
+
+The thief in "The New Monthly," says:
+
+         "Military talent, even of the highest _grade_, is
+         _very_ far from holding the first place among
+         intellectual endowments. It is one of the lower
+         forms of genius, for it is _never made_ conversant
+         with the _more delicate and abstruse of mental
+         operations_.
+
+         It is used to apply physical force; to remove
+         physical force; to remove physical obstructions; to
+         avail itself of physical aids and advantages; and
+         all these are not the highest objects of mind, nor
+         do they demand intelligence of the highest _and
+         rarest_ order. Nothing is more common than to find
+         men, eminent in the science and practice of war,
+         _wholly_ wanting in the nobler energies of the
+         soul; in imagination, in taste, in _enlarged_ views
+         of human nature, in the moral sciences, in the
+         application of analysis and generalization to the
+         human mind and to society; or in original
+         conceptions on the great subjects which have
+         _occupied and_ absorbed the most glorious _of
+         human_ understandings."
+
+The article in "The New Monthly" is on "The State of Parties." The
+italics are mine.
+
+Apparent plagiarisms frequently arise from an author's
+self-repetition. He finds that something he has already published has
+fallen dead--been overlooked--or that it is peculiarly _à propos_ to
+another subject now under discussion. He therefore introduces the
+passage; often without allusion to his having printed it before; and
+sometimes he introduces it into an anonymous article. An anonymous
+writer is thus, now and then, unjustly accused of plagiarism--when the
+sin is merely that of self-repetition.
+
+In the present case, however, there has been a deliberate plagiarism
+of the silliest as well as meanest species. Trusting to the obscurity
+of his original, the plagiarist has fallen upon the idea of killing
+two birds with one stone--of dispensing with all disguise but that of
+_decoration_.
+
+Channing says "order"--the writer in the New Monthly says "grade." The
+former says that this order is "far from holding," etc.--the latter
+says it is "_very_ far from holding." The one says that military
+talent is "_not_ conversant," and so on--the other says "it is _never
+made_ conversant." The one speaks of "the highest and richest
+objects"--the other of "the more delicate and abstruse." Channing
+speaks of "thought"--the thief of "mental operations." Chaming
+mentions "intelligence of the _highest_ order"--the thief will have it
+of "the highest _and rarest_." Channing observes that military talent
+is often "_almost_ wholly wanting," etc.--the thief maintains it to be
+"_wholly_ wanting." Channing alludes to "_large_ views of human
+nature"--the thief can be content with nothing less than "enlarged"
+ones. Finally, the American having been satisfied with a reference to
+"subjects which have absorbed the most glorious understandings," the
+Cockney puts him to shame at once by discoursing about "subjects which
+have _occupied and_ absorbed the most glorious _of human_
+understandings"--as if one could be absorbed, without being occupied,
+by a subject--as if "_of_" were here any thing more than two
+superfluous letters--and as if there were any chance of the reader's
+supposing that the understandings in question were the understandings
+of frogs, or jackasses, or Johnny Bulls.
+
+By the way, in a case of this kind, whenever there is a question as to
+who is the original and who the plagiarist, the point may be
+determined, almost invariably, by observing which passage is
+amplified, or exaggerated, in tone. To disguise his stolen horse, the
+uneducated thief cuts off the tail; but the educated thief prefers
+tying on a new tail at the end of the old one, and painting them both
+sky blue.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+After reading all that has been written, and after thinking all that
+can be thought, on the topics of God and the soul, the man who has a
+right to say that he thinks at all, will find himself face to face
+with the conclusion that, on these topics, the most profound thought
+is that which can be the least easily distinguished from the most
+superficial sentiment.
+
+
+
+
+LOVE.
+
+BY R. H. STODDARD.
+
+
+    Oh Love! thou art a fallen child of light,
+      A ruined seraph in a world of care--
+      Tortured and wrung by sorrow and despair,
+    And longings for the beautiful and bright:
+    Thy brow is deeply scarred, and bleeds beneath
+    A spiked coronet, a thorny wreath;
+    Thy rainbow wings are rent and torn with chains,
+      Sullied and drooping in extremest wo;
+      Thy dower, to those who love thee best below,
+    Is tears and torture, agony and pains,
+    Coldness and scorn and doubt which often parts;--
+      "The course of true love never does run smooth,"
+    Old histories show it, and a thousand hearts,
+      Breaking from day to day, attest the solemn truth.
+
+
+[Illustration: Beauty's Bath
+
+Painted by E. Landseer     Engraved by J. Sartain
+
+Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine]
+
+
+
+
+BEAUTY'S BATH.
+
+[ILLUSTRATING AN ENGRAVING.]
+
+
+    The fair one stands beside the plashing brim,
+      Her pet, her Beauty, gathered to her breast;
+    A doubt hath crossed her: "can he surely swim?"
+      And in her sweet face is that fear exprest.
+
+    Alas! how often, for thyself, in years
+      Fast coming, wilt thou pause and doubt and shrink
+    O'er some fair project! Then, be all thy fears
+      False as this first one by the water's brink!
+
+
+
+
+REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.
+
+
+_Poems of Early and After Years. By N. P. Willis. Illustrated by E.
+Leutze. Philadelphia: Carey & Hart. 1 vol. 8vo._
+
+This is a complete edition of one of America's most popular poets,
+with the old poems carefully revised, and many new pieces added. It is
+got up in a similar style with the editions of Longfellow and Bryant,
+by the same publishers, and is one of the most splendid volumes of the
+season. The portrait of the author, engraved by Cheney, is the most
+accurate we have seen. The illustrations, from designs by Leutze, and
+engraved by Humphrys, Tucker, and Pease, are sixteen in number, and in
+their character and execution are honorable to American art. They are
+truly embellishments. Fertile as has been the house of Carey & Hart in
+beautiful books, they have published nothing more elegant and tasteful
+than the present edition of Willis.
+
+We have written, in various critiques, at such length on the merits
+and characteristics of Willis, that it would be but repetition to
+dilate upon his genius now. In looking over the present volume, we
+cannot see that the sparkle and fire of his poetry becomes dim, even
+as read by eyes which have often performed that pleasant task before.
+The old witchery still abides in them, and the old sweetness,
+raciness, melody and power. That versatile mind, gliding with such
+graceful ease over the whole ground of "occasional" pieces, serious
+and mirthful, impassioned and tender, sacred and satirical, looks out
+upon us with the same freshness from his present "pictured" page, as
+when we hunted it, in the old time, through newspapers, magazines, and
+incomplete collections. We cordially wish the author the same success
+in his present rich dress, which he has always met in whatever style
+of typography he has invaded the public heart. When the stereotype
+plates of the present edition are worn out, it does not require the
+gift of prophecy to predict that the poet's reputation will be as
+unworn and us bright as ever.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_A Plea for Amusements. By Frederic W. Sawyer, New York: D. Appleton &
+Co. 1 vol. 12mo._
+
+This little volume, viewed in respect to the prejudices it so clearly
+exposes and opposes, is quite an important publication, and we trust
+it will find readers among those who need it most. That clumsy habit
+of the public mind, by which the perversions are confounded with the
+use of a thing, finds in Mr. Sawyer an acute analyst as well as
+sensible opponent. He has done his work with much learning, ability
+and taste, and has contrived to make his exposure of popular bigotries
+as interesting as it is useful.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_Campaign Sketches of the War with Mexico. By Capt. W. S. Henry, U. S.
+Army. With Engravings. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. 12mo._
+
+Here is a work by a brave and intelligent soldier, relating to the
+battles of General Taylor in Mexico, of which he was an eye-witness.
+It has the freshness which might be expected from a writer who mingled
+in the scenes he describes; and the plates of the different
+battle-grounds enable the reader intelligently to follow the
+descriptions of the author. Spite of the numerous books relating to
+the subject already before the public, Captain Henry's volume will be
+found to contain much not generally known, and to describe what is
+generally known better than most of his precursors in the task.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_The Consuelo. By George Sand. In Three Volumes. New York: W. H.
+Graham, Tribune Buildings._
+
+_The Countess of Rudolstadt. By George Sand. [Sequel to Consuelo.] 2
+vols. Same Publisher._
+
+_The Journeyman Joiner, or the Companion of the Tour of France. By
+George Sand. Same Publisher._
+
+_The Devil's Pool. By George Sand. Same Publisher._
+
+The above editions of the somewhat too celebrated George Sand are got
+up, by our enterprising friend the publisher, in a style superior to
+that generally used on this species of literature. The translation by
+F. G. Shaw, Esq. has been generally, and we think justly, commended.
+The works themselves, and their tendencies and results, have been made
+the subject of various opinions both here and abroad. We are not among
+those who are prepared to enter the lists as their champion. The
+translator himself remarks in relation to Consuelo: "That it has not
+found fit translation before, was doubtless owing to prevailing
+impressions of something erratic and _bizarre_ in the author's way of
+living, and to a certain undeniable tone of wild, defying freedom in
+her earlier writings." The censure of the moral portion of the
+community is thus softly and mercifully expressed: We will not at
+present add to it.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_The Last Incarnation. Gospel Legends of the Nineteenth Century. By A.
+Constant. Translated by F. G. Shaw, Esq. New York: Wm. H. Graham._
+
+A well printed and cheap volume.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_The Scouting Expeditions of M'Culloch's Texas Rangers. By Samuel C.
+Ried, jr. Zieber & Co. Philadelphia._
+
+This work contains a spirited and vivid sketch of the Mexican war as
+prosecuted under Taylor. It is full of incident and interest, is
+written with spirit, and illustrated by a number of engravings.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+
+
+
+DESCRIPTION OF THE FASHION PLATE.
+
+
+TOILETTE DE VILLE.--Dress of gray satin, with a plain skirt; corsage
+plain, with a rounded point; sleeves above of violet-colored velvet,
+closed on the top, and trimmed with very rich lace; small pelerine to
+the waists, and terminated at the seam of the shoulder, trimmed with
+lace. Hat of yellow satin, long at the cheeks, and rounded, ornamented
+with a bouquet of white flowers resting on the side, arid a puff of
+tulle on the inside.
+
+RICHE TOILETTE D'INTERIEUR.--Dress of blue cashmere, ornamented with a
+row of silver buttons down the front of the skirts; corsage plain,
+with buttons, and terminating in two small points; sleeves rather
+short, and under ones of three rows of lace: neck-dress of lace. Cap
+also of lace, resting flat upon the front of the head, and forming
+folds behind, trimmed with bows of ribbon, of rose-colored taffeta,
+below the lace to the depth of the strings.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+ERRATUM.--In the article on Stoke Church and Church-yard, page 77,
+12th line from bottom of 2d column, "1779" should read 1799.
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Some likely incorrect spellings and probable dialect have been left as
+printed, but the following corrections have been made:
+
+1. Page 83--'for the lady lacked neither wit not humor, and the ....'
+   changed to 'for the lady lacked neither wit nor humor...'
+
+2. Page 83--superfluous word 'his' removed from sentence '...he had
+   nothing on but his his shirt, and...'
+
+3. Page 85--typo 'centipeds' corrected to 'centipedes'
+
+4. Page 85--superfluous word 'his' removed from sentence '...constant
+   to his his first love, mourning...'
+
+5. A number of contracted forms, such as 't is, shortened to 'tis, in
+   order to preserve the scansion of poetry
+
+6. Page 106--typo in sentence '...up the mill-stream, und as we
+   returned...' replaced by 'and'
+
+7. Page 106--typo 'outrè' in sentence '...however strange or outrè;
+   and there is...' changed to 'outré'
+
+8. Page 106--typo 'evious' in sentence '...would turn up an evious
+   nose, and...' corrected to 'envious'
+
+9. Page 110--typo 'widows' in sentence '...sitting by the widows of
+   the summer-house,' changed to 'windows'
+
+10. Page 113--typo 'then' in sentence '...was upon then--the eye of
+    Agnes;...' changed to 'them'
+
+11. Page 121--typo 'claspéd' corrected to 'claspèd'
+
+12. Page 125--typo 'giver' in sentence '...until he saw her giver her
+    arm...' corrected to 'give'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol. XXXII No. 2. 
+February 1848, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, FEB 1848 ***
+
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+       .tdc      {text-align: center; vertical-align: bottom;}
+
+
+    </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol. XXXII No. 2. 
+February 1848, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: Graham's Magazine Vol. XXXII No. 2.  February 1848
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: George R. Graham
+        Robert T. Conrad
+
+Release Date: June 24, 2009 [EBook #29218]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, FEB 1848 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at
+http://www.pgdpcanada.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<h1>GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE.</h1>
+<br />
+<hr class="full" />
+<h4><span class="smcap">Vol.</span> XXXII.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; PHILADELPHIA,&nbsp;&nbsp;FEBRUARY,&nbsp;&nbsp;
+1848.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;No. 2.</h4>
+<hr class="full" />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<h3>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h3><br />
+<table summary="TOC" width="80%">
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#stoke">STOKE CHURCH AND PARK.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">73</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#saw">THE SAW-MILL.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">87</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#effie">EFFIE MORRIS.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">87</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#early">EARLY ENGLISH POETS.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">92</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#portrait">THE PORTRAIT.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">92</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#islets">THE ISLETS OF THE GULF.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">93</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#hour">AN HOUR.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">98</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#power">POWER OF BEAUTY.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">99</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#butterfly">A BUTTERFLY IN THE CITY.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">105</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#rival">THE RIVAL SISTERS.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">105</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#pleiad">THE LOST PLEIAD.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">115</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#sunset">SUNSET AFTER RAIN.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">115</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#montezuma">MONTEZUMA MOGGS.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">116</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#confession">THE BRIDE'S CONFESSION.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">120</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#night">SONNET TO NIGHT.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">120</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#pauline">PAULINE DUMESNIL.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">121</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#hermit">THE HERMIT OF NIAGARA.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">127</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#burial">BURIAL OF A VOLUNTEER.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">128</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#morning">THE BRIDAL MORNING.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">128</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#home">HOME.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">129</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#marginalia">MARGINALIA.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">130</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#love">LOVE.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">132</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#bath">BEAUTY"S BATH.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">132</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#review">REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">132</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#plate">DESCRIPTION OF THE FASHION PLATE.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">132</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="pagenum">73</span>
+
+<h3><a name="stoke" id="stoke">STOKE CHURCH AND PARK.</a></h3>
+
+<h4>THE SCENE OF GRAY'S ELEGY, AND RESIDENCE OF THE PENNS OF
+PENNSYLVANIA</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY R. BALMANNO.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/illus073.png" width="600" height="440"
+alt="Stoke Manor" title="" /></div>
+
+<br /><br /><br />
+<p>The Manor of Stoke, with its magnificent mansion and picturesque park,
+is situate near the village of Stoke Pogeys, in the county of
+Buckingham, four miles north-west of Windsor.</p>
+
+<p>About two miles distant from Stoke lies the village of Slough,
+rendered famous by the residence of the celebrated astronomer, Sir
+William Herschel, and a short way further, on a gentle slope continued
+the whole way from Stoke, stand the venerable towers of time-honored
+Eton, on the bank of the Thames, directly opposite, and looking up to
+the proud castle of the kings of England, unmatched in its lofty,
+commanding situation and rich scenery by that of any royal residence
+in Europe.</p>
+
+<p>Stoke, anciently written Stoches, belonged, in the time of William the
+Conqueror, A. D. 1086, to William, son of Ansculf, of whom it was held
+by Walter de Stoke. Previous thereto, it was in part held by Siret, a
+vassal of Harold, and at the same time, a certain Stokeman, the vassal
+of Tubi, held another portion. Finally, in the year 1300, during the
+reign of King Edward the First, it received its present appellation by
+the intermarriage of Amicia de Stoke, the heiress, with Robert de
+Pogeys. Under the sovereignty of Edward the Third, 1346, John de
+Molines, originally of French extraction, and from the town of that
+name in Bourbonnais, married Margaret de Pogeys; and, in consequence
+of his eminent services, obtained license of the king to make a castle
+of his manor-house of Stoke Pogeys, fortify with stone walls
+<span class="pagenum">74</span>
+embattled, and imparke the woods; also that it should be exempt from
+the authority of the marshal of the king's household, or any of his
+officers; and in further testimony of the king's favor, he had summons
+to Parliament among the barons of the realm.</p>
+
+<p>During the wars of the rival Roses, the place was owned by Sir Robert
+Hungerford, commonly called Lord Moleyns, by reason of his marriage
+with Alianore, daughter of William, Lord Moleyns.</p>
+
+<p>This Lord Robert, siding with the Lancasterians, or the Red Roses,
+upon the loss of the battle of Towton, fled to York, where King Henry
+the Sixth then was, and afterward with him into Scotland. He was
+attainted by the Parliament of Edward the Fourth; but the king took
+compassion on Alianore, his wife, and her children, committing her and
+them to the care of John, Lord Wenlock, to whom he had granted all her
+husband's manors and lands, granting them a fitting support as long as
+her said husband, Lord Robert, should live. But the Lancasterians
+making head in the north, he "flew out" again, being the chief of
+those who were in the castle of the Percys, at Alnwick, with five or
+six hundred Frenchmen, and being taken prisoner at the battle of
+Hexham, he was beheaded at Newcastle on Tyne, but buried in the north
+aisle of the cathedral of Salisbury.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Alianore, his widow, lies buried in the church of Stoke Pogeys;
+and her monument may still be seen, with an epitaph commencing thus:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<i>Hic, hoc sub lapide sepelitur Corpus venerabilis<br />
+Domin&aelig;Alianor&aelig; Molins, Baronissi&aelig;, quam<br />
+prius desponsavit Dominus Robertus Hungerford,<br />
+miles et Baro. &amp;c. &amp;c.</i><br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the grant to Lord Wenlock, Thomas, the son and heir of
+Lord Robert Hungerford, succeeded to the estate. For a time he sided
+with the famous Earl of Warwick, the king-maker, who took part with
+Edward the Fourth, but afterward "falling off," and endeavoring for
+the restoration of King Henry the Sixth, was seized on, and tried for
+his life at Salisbury, before that diabolical tyrant, crook-back Duke
+of Gloucester, afterward Richard the Third, where he had judgment of
+the death of a traitor, and suffered accordingly the next day.</p>
+
+<p>But during the reign of Henry the Seventh, in 1485, when the Red Roses
+became triumphant at the decisive battle of Bosworth, and these
+unnatural and bloody wars which had devastated England for nearly
+thirty years, being brought to a close, by the union of Henry with
+Elizabeth of York, representative of the White Roses, the attainder of
+Thomas, as well as that of his father, Lord Robert, being reversed in
+Parliament, his only child and heir, called Mary, succeeded to the
+estate.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Mary married Edward, Lord Hastings, from whom the present Earl of
+Huntingdon is descended. She used the title of Lady Hungerford,
+Botreux, Molines, and Peverell. To this marriage Shakspeare alludes in
+the tragedy of King Henry the VI., Part 3, A. 4, Sc. 1, when he makes
+the Duke of Clarence say ironically,</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves<br />
+To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Lord George Hungerford succeeding his father, was advanced to the
+title of Earl of Huntingdon by King Henry the Eighth, in 1529. He died
+the 24th of March, 1543, and lies buried in the chancel of Stoke
+Pogeys. Edward, his second son, was a warrior with King Henry the
+Eighth, and during the reign of Henry's daughter, Queen Mary, 1555,
+declared his testament, appointing his body to be buried at Stoke
+Pogeys, and directing his executors to build a chapel of stone, with
+an altar therein, adjoining the church or chancel, where the late Earl
+Huntingdon and his wife (his father and mother) lay buried; and that a
+tomb should be made, with their images carved in stone, appointing
+that a plate of copper, double gilt, should be made to represent his
+own image, of the size of life, <i>in harness</i>, (armor,) and a memorial
+in writing, with his arms, to be placed upright on the wall of the
+chapel, without any other tomb for him. He died without issue. Earl
+Henry was the last of the illustrious family of Huntingdon who
+possessed the manor and manor-house of Stoke; and the embarrassed
+state of his affairs compelled him to mortgage the estate to one
+Branthwait, a sergeant at law, in 1580, during which period it was
+occupied by Lord Chancellor Sir Christopher Hatton, the fine dancer,
+one of the celebrated <i>favorites</i> of Elizabeth, the lascivious
+daughter of King Henry the Eighth&mdash;a woman as fickle as
+profligate, as cruel and hard-hearted, so far as regarded her numerous
+paramours, as her brutal father was in respect to his wives.</p>
+
+<p>This historical detail, gathered from Domesday Book, Dugdale, and
+other authorities, is narrated in consequence of its bearing upon some
+celebrated poems hereafter to be noticed, and is continued up to the
+present period for a like reason.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Christopher Hatton died in 1591, and settled his estate on Sir
+William Newport, whose daughter became the second wife of Sir Edward
+Coke, Lord Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench, who purchased
+the estate of Stoke. After the dissolution of the Parliament by King
+Charles the First, in March, 1628-9, Sir Edward Coke being then
+greatly advanced in years, retired to his house at Stoke, where he
+spent the remainder of his days in a quiet retirement, universally
+respected and esteemed; and there, says his epitaph, crowned his pious
+life with a pious and Christian departure, on Wednesday the 3d day of
+September, A. D., 1634, and of his age 83; his last words, <span class="smcap">
+"Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done!"</span></p>
+
+<p>Upon the death of Sir Edward Coke, the manor and estate of Stoke
+devolved to his son-in-law, Viscount Purbeck, elder brother of
+Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, who perished by the hand of the
+assassin, Felton.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Purbeck, upon the death of his wife, daughter of Sir Edward Coke,
+married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Slingsby, by whom he had a
+son, Robert, which Robert, marrying the daughter and heir of Sir John
+Danvers, one of the judges who sat on the trial of King Charles the
+First, obtained a patent from Cromwell, Protector of the Commonwealth,
+to change his name to Danvers, alledging as the reasons for his so
+doing "the many disservices done to the commonwealth by the name of
+the family of Villiers."</p><span class="pagenum">75</span>
+
+<p>In 1657, Viscount Purbeck granted a lease of the manor and house of
+Stoke, to Sir Robert Gayer during his own life; and in the same year,
+his son, Robert Villiers, or Danvers, sold his reversionary interest
+in the estate to Sir R. Gayer for the sum of eight thousand five
+hundred and sixty-four pounds. The family of Gayers continued in
+possession until 1724, when the estate was sold for twelve thousand
+pounds to Edmund Halsey, Esq., M.P., who died in 1729, his daughter
+Anne married Sir Richard Temple, created Viscount Cobham, who survived
+him; and she resided at Stoke until her death in the year 1760.</p>
+
+<p>The house and manor of Stoke were sold in the same year, by the
+representatives of Edmund Halsey, to the Honorable Thomas Penn, Lord
+Proprietary of the Province of Pennsylvania, the eldest surviving son
+of the Honorable William Penn, the celebrated founder and original
+proprietary of the province.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the death of Thomas Penn, in 1775, the manor of Stoke, together
+with all his other estates, devolved upon his eldest surviving son,
+John, by the Right Honorable Lady Juliana, his wife, fourth daughter
+of the Earl of Pomfret.</p>
+
+<p>In 1789, the ancient mansion of Stoke, appearing to Mr. Penn, after
+some years absence in America, to demand very extensive repairs,
+(chiefly from the destructive consequences of damp in the principal
+rooms,) it was judged advisable to take it down.</p>
+
+<p>The style of its architecture was not of a kind the most likely to
+dissuade him from this undertaking. Most of the great buildings of
+Queen Elizabeth's reign have a style peculiar to themselves, both in
+form and finishing, where, though much of the old Gothic is retained,
+and a great part of the new style is adopted, yet neither
+predominates, while both, thus indiscriminately blended, compose a
+fantastic species, hardly reducible to any class or name. One of its
+characteristics is the affectation of <i>large</i> and <i>lofty</i> windows,
+where, says Lord Bacon, "you shall have sometimes faire houses so full
+of glass, that one cannot tell where to become to be out of the sun."
+A perfect specimen of this fantastic style, in complete repair, may be
+seen in Hardwick Hall, county of Derby, one of the many residences of
+that princely and amiable nobleman, the Duke of Devonshire, and a
+perfect <i>contrast</i> to it, at his other noble residence not many miles
+distant, in the same county, Chatsworth, "the Palace of the Peak."</p>
+
+<p>It is true that high antiquity alone gives, in the eye of taste, a
+continually increasing value to specimens of all such kinds of
+architecture; but beside that, the superiority of the new site chosen
+by Mr. Penn was manifest, the principal rooms of the old mansion at
+Stoke, where the windows admitted light from <i>both</i> the opposite
+sides, were instances, peculiarly exemplifying the remark of Lord
+Bacon, and countenancing the design to lessen the number of bad, and
+increase that of the good examples of architecture. But a wing of the
+ancient plan was preserved, and is still kept in repair, as a relic,
+harmonizing with the surrounding scenery, and forms with the rustic
+offices, and fruit-gardens annexed, the <i>villa rustica</i> and
+<i>fructuaria</i> of the place.</p>
+
+<p>The new buildings, or, more properly speaking, Palace of Stoke, was
+begun by Mr. Penn immediately after his return from a long absence in
+Pennsylvania, and was covered-in in December, 1790. It is scarcely
+possible to conceive a finer site than that chosen by him for his new
+mansion, being on a commanding eminence, the windows of the principal
+front looking over a rich, variegated landscape toward the lofty
+towers of Windsor Castle, at a distance of four miles, which
+terminates the view in that direction; whilst about and around the
+site are abundance of magnificent aged oaks, elms, and beeches.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>The poems of Thomas Gray, who was educated at Eton, and resided at
+Stoke, are perhaps better known, more read, more easily remembered,
+and more frequently quoted, than those of any other English poet.
+Where is the person who does not remember with feelings approaching to
+enthusiasm, the impressions made on his youthful fancy by the
+enchanting language of the "Elegy written in a Country Church-yard?"
+Who can ever forget the impressions with which he first read the
+narrative of the "hoary-headed swain," and the deep emotion felt on
+perusing the pathetic epitaph, "graved on the stone, beneath yon aged
+thorn," beginning&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Here rests his head upon the lap of earth.<br />
+A youth to fortune and to fame unknown:<br />
+Fair science frowned not on his humble birth.<br />
+And melancholy marked him for her own.<br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>That exquisite poem contains passages "grav'd" on the hearts of all
+who ever read it in youth, until they themselves become
+hoary-headed&mdash;and then, perhaps, remembered most.</p>
+
+<p>But it is not the Elegy alone which makes an indelible impression on
+the youthful reader; equally imperishable are the lines on a distant
+prospect of Eton College.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,<br />
+That crown the wat'ry glade,<br />
+Where grateful science still adores<br />
+Her Henry's holy shade.<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a>
+<a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>And who can ever forget the Bard&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Confusion on thy banners wait!</span><br />
+Though fann'd by conquests crimson wing,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They mock the air with idle state.</span><br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>Or the lovely Ode on the Spring.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Lo! where the rosy bosom'd Hours<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fair Venus' train appear,</span><br />
+Disclose the long-expecting flowers,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And wake the purple year!</span><br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>Or those sublime Odes&mdash;On The Progress of Poesy. Awake,
+&AElig;olian lyre, awake: and the Descent of Odin:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Uprose the king of men with speed,<br />
+And saddled strait his coal-black steed:<br />
+Down the yawning steep he rode,<br />
+That leads to Hela's drear abode.<br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>Who can ever forget the pleasure experienced on the first perusal, and
+<span class="pagenum">76</span>
+on every subsequent reading of these fascinating productions? They
+are such as all, imbued with even a moderate degree of taste and
+feeling, must respond to. But there is another poem of Gray's, less
+read, perhaps, than these, but which, from its humor and arch playful
+style, is apt to make a strong and lasting impression on an
+enthusiastic juvenile mind. It opens so abruptly and oddly, that
+attention is bespoke from the first line. It is entitled "A Long
+Story."</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+In Britain's isle&mdash;no matter where&mdash;<br />
+An ancient pile of building stands:<br />
+The Huntingdons and Hattons there<br />
+Employed the power of fairy hands<br />
+To raise the ceilings fretted height,<br />
+Each panel in achievements clothing,<br />
+Rich windows, that exclude the light,<br />
+And passages, that lead to nothing.<br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>This poem, teeming with quaint humor, contains one hundred and
+forty-four lines, beside, <i>as it says</i>, "two thousand which
+are lost!"</p>
+
+<p>Extreme admiration of the poems of Gray had been excited in the
+writer's mind even when a schoolboy. In after years, whilst occupying
+chambers in the Temple, he first became aware that the scenery so
+exquisitely described in the Elegy, and the "ancient pile" of
+building, so graphically delineated in the Long Story, were both
+within a few hours' ride of London, and adjoining each other.</p>
+
+<p>Until about the year 1815 he had constantly supposed that the Country
+Church-yard was altogether an imaginary conception, and that the
+ancient mansion of the Huntingdons was far away, somewhere in the
+midland counties; but when fully aware of the true localities, he was
+almost mad with impatience, until, on a Saturday afternoon, <i>he</i>
+could get relieved from the turmoil of business, to fly to scenes
+hallowed by recollections of the halcyon days of youthful aspirations
+of hope, and love, and innocence&mdash;and sweetly and fresh do such
+reminiscences still float in his memory.</p>
+
+<p>About the period in question, there was a club in London, formed of
+about twenty or thirty of the most aristocratic of the young nobility,
+possessed of more wealth than wisdom. They gave themselves the name of
+the Whip Club, because each member drove his own team of four horses.
+The chief tutor of these titled Jehu's in the art and mystery of
+driving, was no less a personage than the celebrated Tom Moody, driver
+of the Windsor Coach, and by that crack coach it was intended to
+proceed as far as Slough, on the intended excursion to Stoke, and then
+turn off to the left; but as the Whip Club, at the period in question,
+attracted a large share of public attention in the metropolis, perhaps
+a short notice of it may be here permitted, as it has been long since
+defunct, and is never again likely to be revived, now that steam and
+iron horses have taken the road.</p>
+
+<p>The vehicles, horses, trappings, and gearing, were the most elegant
+and expensive that money could command; and it was a rare thing to see
+upward of twenty such equipages, which, as well as the housings of the
+horses, were emblazoned with heraldric devices, and glittering all
+over with splendid silver and gold ornaments.</p>
+
+<p>The open carriages were all filled with the loveliest of England's
+lovely women, who generally congregated together at an early
+breakfast, or what with them was considered an early breakfast,
+between ten and eleven o'clock! The meet took place at the house of
+Lord Hawke, in Portman Square. His lordship was high admiral, or
+president, Sir Bellingham Graham, whipper-in&mdash;and courteously and
+cleverly did Sir Bellingham (or Bellinjim, as it is pronounced)
+perform his delicate duty. When each driver mounted his box, after
+handing in the ladies, it was wonderful to observe with what
+dexterity, ease, and order, all wheeled into line, when the leader,
+with a flourish of his long whip&mdash;being the signal for which all were
+watching&mdash;led off the splendid array.</p>
+
+<p>It was a gay sight to witness the start, as they swept round the
+square&mdash;for the horses were one and all of pure blood, and
+unparalleled for beauty, symmetry, and speed.</p>
+
+<p>To one unaccustomed to such a sight, it might appear somewhat
+dangerous. The fiery impatience of the horses&mdash;their pawing and
+champing, the tossing of their beautiful heads, and the swan-like
+curving of their glittering, sleek necks, until they were fairly
+formed into order&mdash;at which time they knew just as well as their
+owners that <i>the play</i> was going to begin. But it was perfectly
+delightful to observe the graceful manner in which each pair laid
+their small heads and ears together when fairly under way, beating
+time with their highly polished hoofs&mdash;pat, pat, pat, pat, as true as
+the most disciplined regiment marching to a soul-stirring quick step,
+or a troupe of well-trained ballet girls, bounding across the stage of
+the Italian Opera.</p>
+
+<p>When fairly off and skimming along the road, it was, perhaps, as
+animating a show as London ever witnessed since its palmiest days of
+tilt and tournament. I say nothing of the ladies, their commingled
+charms, or gorgeous attire; I only noticed that during the gayety in
+the square, previous to starting, their recognition of each other, and
+the beaux of their acquaintance, there were plenty of</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+"Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles,<br />
+Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,<br />
+And love to live in dimples sleek."<br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>This celebrated club congregated every fortnight, during the gay
+season of May and June, and spent the day at the residence of one of
+their number, within twenty or thirty miles of London, returning in
+the evening, exactly in the order they had set out.</p>
+
+<p>Master Moody, the driver and proprietor of the fast Windsor Coach,
+had, as said, been the tutor of these aristocratic charioteers, who
+placed themselves under his guardianship, and had been taught to
+handle "the ribbons" until declared perfect in the noble science. He
+had consequently imbibed much and many of the <i>airs</i> and <i>graces</i>,
+and manners of his pupils.</p>
+
+<p>Being anxious to have a ride beside this great man, I was at
+Piccadilly long before he started, and by a pretty handsome douceur to
+his cad, had the supreme felicity of obtaining a seat on the box, and
+certainly was well repaid for the extra expense of sitting by
+Corinthian Tom.</p>
+
+<p>He was a tall fellow, and had a severely serious face; was dressed in
+<span class="pagenum">77</span>
+the extreme of driving fashion; wore delicate white kid gloves, and
+the tops of his highly-polished boots were white as the lily. In
+short, his whole "toggery" was faultless&mdash;a perfect out-and-outer. He
+was truly a great man, or appeared to fancy himself such&mdash;for he
+rarely condescended to exchange a word, except with an acquaintance,
+and even then, it was with a condescending, patronizing air; and he
+smiled as seldom as a Connecticut lawyer. Although sitting close by
+his side for twenty miles, not one word passed between us during the
+whole journey.</p>
+
+<p>The nags driven by this proud fellow were as splendid as himself;
+finer cattle never flew over Epsom Downs, the Heath of Ascot, or
+Doncaster Course&mdash;pure bloods, every one of them, and such as might
+have served Guido as models for his famous fresco of the chariot of
+Apollo; but Guido's steeds, although they are represented tearing away
+furiously, are lubberly <i>drays</i>, compared with the slim, graceful,
+fleet stags of Tom Moody.</p>
+
+<p>When the cad gave the word&mdash;"all right," Tom started them with his
+short, shrill "t'chit, t'chit," and a crack of his two-fathom whip
+right over the ears of the leaders, as loud as the report of a pistol.
+They sprang forward with a maddening energy, almost terrifying; but
+the coach was hung and balanced with such precision, and the Windsor
+road kept in the finest order for royalty, there was no jumping or
+jolting, it glided along as smoothly as if it had been running on
+rails. A proud man was Master Moody; not so much of himself, perhaps,
+or of his glossy, broad-brimmed beaver, and broadcloth "upper
+Benjamin," or the dashing silk tie around his neck, but of his
+beautiful nags&mdash;and he had reason, for there was not an equipage on
+the road, from the ducal chariot to the dandy tandem, to which he did
+not give the go-by like lightning.</p>
+
+<p>The rapidity of the movement, and the beauty of the animals, produced
+an excitement sufficient to enable one to appreciate the rapture of
+the Arab, as he flies over the desert on his beloved barb, enjoying,
+feeling, exulting in liberty, sweet, intoxicating, unbounded liberty,
+with the whole wilderness for a home.</p>
+
+<p>Some such feelings took possession of me, as the well-poised machine
+shot along. Quick as thought we threaded Kensington High street,
+skirted the wall of Lord Holland's park, just catching, like the
+twinkle of a sunbeam, a glimpse of the antique turrets of that classic
+fane peeping through the trees, as we passed the centre avenue.</p>
+
+<p>We speedily reached Hammersmith and Turnham Green, and then passed
+Sion House and park, the princely residence of the Duke of
+Northumberland, then dashed through the straggling old town of
+Brentford. The intervening fields and openings into the landscape
+affording enchanting prospects before entering on Hounslow Heath, when
+the horses having got warm, the driver gave them full head, and the
+vehicle attained a speed truly exhilarating.</p>
+
+<p>The increased momentum, and the extensive prairie-like expanse of
+Hounslow Heath, would have realized in any enthusiastic mind, the
+feelings of the children of the desert.</p>
+
+<p>This first excursion to Stoke was made during the month of May, when
+all nature is fresh and fair; the guelder-roses and lilacs being in
+full flower, and the hawthorn hedges were one sheet of milky
+fragrance, the air was almost intoxicating, owing to the concentrated
+perfumes arising from fruit orchards in full blossom, and the
+interminable succession of flower gardens opposite every house
+skirting that lovely road, the beauty of which few can conceive who
+have not been in England; but the fresh, <i>pure</i> air on the Heath,
+infused a new feeling, a realization of unalloyed happiness; we were
+rapidly hastening toward scenes for which the soul was yearning, and
+hope, bright, young hope, lent wings and a charm to every object,
+animate and inanimate.</p>
+
+<p>The usual relay of fresh horses were in waiting at Cranburn Bridge,
+and the reeking bloods were instantly changed for others, not a whit
+less spirited than their released compeers. Away went Moody, and away
+went Moody's fiery steeds. In a very short time we passed, at a few
+miles on the hither side of Slough, the "ivy-mantled tower" of Upton
+Church, which, but for one or two small, square openings in it, may be
+mistaken for a gigantic bush, or unshapely tree of evergreen ivy.</p>
+
+<p>Arriving at Slough, I bade adieu to Master Moody; the forty feet
+telescope of Herschel, with its complicated frame-work and machinery,
+attracting only a few minutes attention. The road leading up to Stoke
+Green is one of those beautiful lanes so exquisitely described by
+Gilbert White, in his History of Selborne, or still more graphically
+portrayed by Miss Mitford, in her Tales of our Village. Stoke Green
+lies to the right of this lane, and at the distance of one or two
+fields further on, there is a stile in the corner of one of them, on
+the left, where a foot-path crosses diagonally. In going through a gap
+in the hedge, you catch the first peep of the spire of Stoke Church.
+After passing the field, you come to a narrow lane, overhung with
+hawthorns; it leads from Salt-Hill to the village of West-End Stoke.
+Keeping along the lane a short way, and passing through a small gate
+on the top of the bank, you at once enter the domain of Stoke Park,
+and are admitted to a full view of the church, which stands at a short
+distance, but almost immediately within the gate, are particularly
+struck by the appearance of a grand sarcophagus, erected by Mr. Penn
+to the memory of Gray, in the year 1779. It is a lofty structure, in
+the purest style of architecture; and a tolerable idea of it, and the
+surrounding scenery, may be obtained from the cut at the head of this
+article, which has been executed from a drawing made on the spot. The
+inscription and quotations following are on the several sides of the
+pedestal. It is needless to say they are from the Elegy, and Ode to
+Eton College&mdash;the latter poem being unquestionably written from this
+very spot; and Mr. Penn has exhibited the finest taste in their
+selection.</p>
+<span class="pagenum">78</span>
+<p>On the end facing Mr. Penn's house&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<span class="smcap">this monument,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">in honor of</span> THOMAS GRAY,<br />
+<span class="smcap">was erected</span>, A. D. MDCCXCIX.,
+<span class="smcap">among</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">the scenes celebrated by that</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">great lyric and elegiac poet.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">he died</span> XXX <span class="smcap">july</span>,
+MDCCLXXI, <span class="smcap">and</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">lies unnoticed in the church-yard<br />
+adjoining, under the tomb-stone on<br />
+which he piously and pathetically<br />
+recorded the interment of his<br />
+aunt and lamented mother.</span></div><br />
+<br />
+
+<p>On the side looking toward Windsor&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,<br />
+Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove;<br />
+Now drooping, woful wan, like one forlorn,<br />
+Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.<br />
+<br />
+One morn I miss'd him on the 'custom'd hill,<br />
+Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree;<br />
+Another came; nor yet beside the rill,<br />
+Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.<br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>On the end facing Stoke Palace&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">That crown the wat'ry glade,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ah! happy hills! Ah, pleasing shade!</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ah! fields belov'd in vain!</span><br />
+Where once my careless childhood strayed,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">A stranger yet to pain!</span><br />
+I feel the gales that from ye blow,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">A momentary bliss bestow.</span><br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>On the west side, looking toward the church-yard&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Beneath these rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,<br />
+Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,<br />
+Each in his narrow cell forever laid,<br />
+The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.<br />
+<br />
+The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,<br />
+And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,<br />
+Await alike th' inevitable hour&mdash;<br />
+The paths of glory lead but to the grave.<br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>This noble monument is erected on a beautiful green mound, and is
+surrounded with flowers. It is protected by a deep trench, in the
+bottom of which is a palisade; but the inclosure may be entered by
+application at one of Mr. Penn's pretty entrance lodges, which is
+close by. The prospects from this part of the park are surpassingly
+beautiful, particularly looking toward the "distant spires and antique
+towers" of Eton and Windsor.</p>
+
+<p>It may be worth while here to remark, that the church and church-yard
+of Stoke is surrounded by Mr. Penn's property, or more properly
+speaking his park.</p>
+
+<p>Coming upon the beautiful monument quite unexpectedly, was not likely
+to diminish the enthusiasm previously entertained; and before
+proceeding to the church-yard, it was impossible to resist the impulse
+of making a rapid memorandum sketch of it. In after years, it was
+carefully and correctly drawn in all its aspects. Proceeding along
+"the churchway path" into the church-yard, where in reality "rests his
+head upon the lap of earth," the tomb-stone of the admired and beloved
+poet was soon found. It is at the east end of the church, nearly under
+a window.</p>
+
+<p>Persons of a cold temperament, and not imbued with the love of poetry,
+may perhaps smile when it is admitted, that the approach to that tomb
+was made with steps as slow and reverential as those of any devout
+Catholic approaching the shrine of his patron saint.</p>
+
+<p>Long was it gazed upon, and frequently was the inscription read, and
+the following cut exhibits the coat of arms and inscriptions on the
+blue marble tabular stone, as they were carefully drawn and copied,
+that very evening:</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illus083.png" width="400" height="401"
+alt="coat of arms" title="" /></div>
+
+<div class="blockquot2">
+<span class="smcap">in the vault beneath are deposited<br />
+in hope of a joyful resurrection,<br />
+the remains of</span><br />
+MARY ANTROBUS,<br />
+<span class="smcap">she died unmarried, november 5th, 1749,<br />
+aged 66.</span><br />
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<span class="smcap">in the same pious confidence,<br />
+beside her friend and sister,<br />
+here sleep the remains of</span><br />
+DOROTHY GRAY,<br />
+<span class="smcap">widow, the careful tender mother<br />
+of many children, one of whom alone<br />
+had the misfortune to survive her.<br />
+she died march 11th, 1753,<br />
+aged 67.</span></div><br />
+
+<p>It was a soft, balmy evening; "every leaf was at rest;" the deer in
+the park had betaken themselves to their favorite haunts, under the
+wide-spreading boughs of ancient oaks and elms, and were reposing in
+happy security.</p>
+
+<p>The long continued twilight of England was gathering in, and I still
+lingered in the consecrated inclosure, fascinated with the
+unmistakable antiquity of the church, which, although small as
+compared with many others, is eminently romantic, and I cannot better
+describe the scene, and the feelings impressed at the moment, than in
+the words of one equally near as dear&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+"A holy spell pervades thy gloom,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A silent charm breathes all around;</span><br />
+And the dread stillness of the tomb<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Reigns o'er thy hallowed haunted ground."</span><br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>It may be proper to mention that the poem from which this is
+extracted, is descriptive of Haddon Hall, one of the most ancient and
+perfect specimens of the pure Gothic in England. The poem appeared in
+one of the English Annuals.</p>
+
+<p>At peace with all the world, and filled with emotions of true and
+<span class="pagenum">79</span>
+sincere gratitude to the Giver of all good, for the pure happiness
+then enjoyed, I sank down by the tomb-stone, overpowered with
+veneration, and breathed fervent thanks to <span class="smcap">Him</span> who
+refuses not the offering of a humble and contrite heart.</p>
+
+<p>This narrative is meant to be a faithful and honest representation of
+<i>facts</i> and <i>circumstances</i> that actually occurred, and it is
+firmly believed that none can stray into an ancient secluded country
+church-yard, during the decline of day, without deeply meditating on
+those who for ages have slept below, and where <span class="smcap">all</span> must soon sleep,
+without feeling true devotion, and forming resolves for future and
+amended conduct.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly quitting the church-yard, and approaching the elevated
+monument, now become almost sublime as the shades of evening rendered
+dim its classic outline, it was impossible to avoid lingering some
+time longer beside it, recalling various passages of the Elegy
+appropriate to the occasion; the landscape was indeed "glimmering on
+the sight," and there was a "solemn stillness in the air," well
+befitting the occasion; more particularly appropriate was that fine
+stanza, which, although written by Gray, is omitted in all editions of
+the Elegy except the one hereafter noticed, in where it was
+re-incorporated by the editor, [the present writer,] in consequence of
+a suggestion kindly offered in a letter from Granville Penn, Esq.,
+then residing with his brother at Stoke Park.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Hark! how the sacred calm that breathes around<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease;</span><br />
+In still small accents whispering from the ground,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A grateful earnest of eternal peace.</span><br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>The Elegy is undoubtedly the most popular poem in the English
+language; it was translated into that of every country in Europe,
+besides Latin and Greek. It has been more frequently, elaborately and
+expensively illustrated with pictorial embellishments. The autograph
+copy of it, in the poet's small, neat hand, written on two small half
+sheets of paper, was sold last year for no less than <i>one hundred
+pounds sterling</i>; and the spirited purchaser was most appropriately
+the proprietor of Stoke Park, Granville John Penn, Esq., who at the
+same sale gave <i>forty-five pounds</i> for the autograph copy of The Long
+Story, and <i>one hundred and five pounds</i> for the Odes; whilst another
+gentleman gave forty pounds for two short poems and a letter from the
+illustrious poet on the death of his father.</p>
+
+<p>The truthfulness of the pictures presented to the imagination in the
+Elegy could not be denied, for there, on the very spot where, beyond
+all question, it was composed, and after a lapse of nearly one hundred
+years, the images which impressed the mind of the inspired poet came
+fresh at every turn. It is true the curfew did not toll, but the
+"lowing herd" were as distinctly audible as the beetle wheeling his
+droning flight. The yew tree's shade&mdash;that identical tree, to which,
+to a moral certainty, the poet had reference&mdash;is represented in the
+cut, in the corner of the inclosure, as distinctly as the smallness of
+the scale admitted, underneath its shade the "turf lies in many a
+mouldering heap," and the "rugged elms" are outside the inclosure, but
+their outstretched arms overspread many a "narrow cell and frail
+memorial," where the "rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep," and
+where also "their name and years are spelt by th' unlettered muse." A
+singular error in spelling <i>the name</i> of one of those humble persons,
+was however committed by the poet himself in his "Long Story," very
+pardonable in him, however, as the party was then alive; but that the
+error should have been perpetuated in <span class="smcap">all editions</span> save one, down to
+that entitled "The Eton," being printed there, and edited by a
+reverend clergyman resident in the college, is somewhat singular;
+moreover the <i>second</i> edition of the Eton Gray appeared this very
+year, and the error remains, although the name is correctly given on
+the grave-stone. The excepted edition, in which alone it is correctly
+given, was published in 1821, and edited by the present writer for his
+friend Mr. John Sharpe. The circumstance will be noticed presently.</p>
+
+<p>The Elegy of Gray was evidently written under the influence of strong
+feeling, and vivid impressions of the beautiful in the scenery around
+him, and when his sensitive mind was overspread with melancholy, in
+consequence of the death of his young, amiable and accomplished friend
+West, to whom, in June, 1742, he addressed his lovely Ode to Spring,
+which was written at Stoke; but before it reached his friend he was
+numbered with the dead! So true was the friendship subsisting between
+them, that the poet of Stoke was overpowered with a melancholy which,
+although subdued, lasted during a great part of his life.</p>
+
+<p>The scenes amid which the Elegy was composed were well adapted to
+soothe and cherish that contemplative sadness which, when the wounds
+of grief are healing, it is a luxury to indulge, and that the poet did
+indulge them is self-evident in many a line.</p>
+
+<p>In returning to Stoke Green to spend the night, some of the rustic
+peasantry were wending their way down the lane to the same place, but
+none of these simple people, although questioned, could tell aught of
+him whose fame and works had induced the pilgrimage to Stoke; neither
+did better success attend any succeeding inquiry at the village. So
+universally true is that scriptural saying, like <span class="smcap">all</span> the sayings of
+<span class="smcap">Him</span> who uttered it, that a prophet is not without honor, save in his
+own country and in his own house.</p>
+
+<p>Retiring to rest early, with a full determination to do that which had
+often been resolved but never accomplished, that is, to rise with the
+dawn; the resolution had nearly defeated the purpose, inasmuch as the
+mind being surcharged with the past and the expected, there was little
+inclination to sleep until after midnight. But a full and fixed
+determination of the will overcomes greater difficulties, and the
+first streak of light at break of day found me up and dressed, and of
+a truth</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,<br />
+To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.<br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>The dawn was most lovely, and the perfume from the hawthorns
+delicious; every thing indicated a beautiful day. The sarcophagus
+stands on the most elevated spot, and there, where probably in days
+<span class="pagenum">80</span>
+long past the poet had watched the rising of the sun, did I, a humble
+pilgrim at his shrine, await the same sublime spectacle.</p>
+
+<p>As if to gratify a long cherished desire, the sun did rise with a
+splendor impossible to be exceeded, and the following lines, by an
+anonymous author, immediately recurred to memory:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+O who can paint the rapture of the soul,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As o'er the scene the sun first steals to sight,</span><br />
+And all the world of vapors as they roll,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And heaven's vast arch unveils in living light.</span><br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>To witness the break of day in the country is indeed a luxury to which
+the inhabitants of cities are strangers. As the sun rose from the
+horizon, his increasing light brought into view myriads of dew-drops
+on every bud and blossom, which glittered and shone like diamonds. The
+sky-larks began to rise from their grassy beds among the daisies,
+ascending in circles to the clouds, and caroling a music which is
+almost heavenly to hear. The deer also were getting up from their
+shadowy lair under the trees, and the young fawns sprung away and took
+to flight as I passed a herd, under a clump of beeches, in order to
+obtain a view of the ancient mansion. In approaching it, a sound,
+familiar indeed but far from musical, struck the ear, and added
+another proof and a fresh charm to the fidelity of the picture drawn
+by the poet. The swallows were merrily "twittering" about the
+gable-ends, and it did the heart good to stand watching the probable
+successors of those active little visiters, whose predecessors had
+possibly attracted the notice of the bard. It is well known that these
+birds, like the orchard oriole, return year after year to the same
+house, and haunt where they had previously reared their young.
+<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a>
+<a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>
+
+<p>A strong and perhaps natural desire to inspect the interior of all
+that remained of the ancient mansion of the Huntingdons and Hattons
+was defeated, inasmuch as it was found barricaded. Imagination had
+been busy for many a year, in respect to its great hall and gallery,
+its rich windows "and passages that lead to nothing;" but as access to
+the interior was denied, the sketch-book was put in requisition, and
+an accurate view soon secured.</p>
+
+<p>Observing at some distance, through a vista among the trees, a lofty
+pillar with a statue on its summit, and proceeding thither, it was
+found to be another of those splendid ornaments with which the taste
+and liberality of the proprietor had adorned his park, being erected
+to the memory of Sir Edward Coke, whose statue it was which surmounted
+the capital. Whilst engaged in sketching this truly classic object, a
+gentleman approached, who introduced himself as Mr. Osborne, the
+superintendent of the demesne. He expressed pleasure at seeing the
+sketches, and politely offered every facility for making such, but
+hinted that Mr. Penn had scruples, and very proper ones, about
+strangers approaching too near the house on the Sabbath day, to make
+sketches of objects in its vicinity.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Osborne's offer was courteously made, and the consequence was that
+many visits to Stoke afterward took place, and the whole of the
+interesting scenery carefully sketched. He kindly pointed out all that
+was most worthy of attention about the estate and neighborhood, and
+made tender of his company to visit West-End, and show the house which
+Gray, and his mother and aunt had for many years occupied. The
+proprietor he said was Captain Salter, in whose family it had remained
+for a great many generations. Latterly the house has been purchased,
+enlarged, and put into complete repair by Mr. Granville John Penn, the
+present proprietor, nephew of John Penn, Esq., who died in June, 1834.
+After "a hasty" breakfast at Stoke Green, the church-yard was again
+visited, and there was not a grave-stone in it which was not examined
+and read. The error formerly alluded to was immediately detected. The
+passages in the Long Story, describing the mock trial at the "Great
+House," before Lady Cobham, may be worth transcribing.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Fame, in the shape of Mr. Purt,<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3"></a>
+<a href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">(By this time all the parish know it,)</span><br />
+Had told that thereabouts there lurked<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A wicked imp they call a poet:</span><br />
+Who prowled the country far and near,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bewitched the children of the peasants,</span><br />
+Dried up the cows and lamed the deer,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And sucked the eggs and killed the pheasants.</span><br />
+<br />
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+The court was sat, the culprit there,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Forth from their gloomy mansions creeping,</span><br />
+The Lady Janes and Joans repair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And from the gallery stand peeping:</span><br />
+Such in the silence of the night<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come (sweep) along some winding entry,</span><br />
+(Styack has often seen the sight,)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or at the chapel-door stand sentry:</span><br />
+In peak&egrave;d hoods and mantles tarnished<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sour visages enough to scare ye,</span><br />
+High dames of honor once who garnished<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The drawing-room of fierce Queen Mary.</span><br />
+<br />
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+The bard with many an artful fib<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Had in imagination fenced him,</span><br />
+Disproved the arguments of Squib<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And all that Groom could urge against him.</span><br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>Finding on the stone alluded to, that it was to the memory of Mrs. Ann
+Tyacke, who died in 1753, it occurred that this was the Styack of the
+poem, where a footnote in a copy then and there consulted, stated her
+to have been the housekeeper; and on inquiring of Mr. Osborne, he
+confirmed the conjecture. Two other footnotes state Squib to have
+been <i>groom</i> of the chamber, and that Groom was steward; but finding
+another head-stone (both are represented in the large wood-cut,
+although not exactly in the situations they occupy in the church-yard)
+close to that of Mrs. Tyacke, to the memory of <i>William</i> Groom, who
+died 1751, it appears to offer evidence that Gray mistook the <i>name</i>
+of the one for the <i>office</i> of the other. The Eton edition has not a
+single footnote from beginning to end of the volume. It is dedicated
+to Mr. Granville John Penn, and his "kind assistance <i>during the
+progress of the work</i>" acknowledged, both in its illustrations, and in
+<span class="pagenum">81</span>
+the biographical sketch, not withstanding which "assistance," the
+error of the house-keeper's name is continued; and amongst the
+wood-cut illustrations, there is one entitled (both <i>in</i> the list and
+<i>on</i> the cut) "Stoke Church, east end, with tablet to Gray," when, in
+fact, it represents the <i>tomb-stone</i> at the end of the church, under
+which Gray and his mother are interred. The <i>tablet</i> to Gray is quite
+another thing, <i>that</i> was lately inserted in the wall of the church;
+but by some extraordinary blunder it records his death as having taken
+place on the 1st of August, while on the sarcophagus it is stated to
+have occurred on the 30th of July. Neither the one nor the other is
+correct. The Gentleman's Magazine for 1771, and the Annual Register
+for the same year, as well as Mathias' Life, 2 vols. 4to., 1814, all
+concur in giving it as having taken place on the 31st. The Etonian
+edition has it the 30th. After a considerable time spent in the
+church-yard, the hour of public worship drew near, the aged sexton
+appeared, opened the doors, and began to toll the bell&mdash;that same
+ancient bell which, century after century, had "rung in" generation
+after generation, and tolled at their funerals. It is difficult to
+realize the feelings excited on entering a sacred edifice of very
+ancient date, particularly if it is in the country, secluded amongst
+aged trees, looking as old as itself; and in walking over the stone
+floor, which, although so seldom trodden, is worn away into something
+like channels; in sitting in the same antique, and curiously carved,
+black oaken pews, which had been sat on by races of men who had
+occupied the same seats hundreds of years long past; but the effect is
+greatly increased on viewing the effigies of the mighty dead, lying on
+their marble beds, in long and low niches in the walls, some with the
+palms of their hands pressed together and pointing upward, as if in
+the act of supplication; and others grasping their swords, and having
+their legs <i>crossed</i>, indicating that they had fought <i>for</i> the cross
+in the Holy Land. Such a church, and such objects around, fill the
+mind with true devotion. The sublime words of Milton work out the
+picture to perfection.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+There let the pealing organ blow<br />
+To the full-voiced quire below,<br />
+In service high, and anthems clear,<br />
+As may with sweetness through mine ear<br />
+Dissolve me into extasies,<br />
+And bring all heaven before mine eyes.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>It was gratifying and affecting to witness the piety, humility, and
+devotion of the congregation as they entered and took their seats in
+silence, long before the venerable clergyman entered the church; there
+was something exceedingly touching in the profound silence that
+reigned throughout the congregation, and induced one to think highly
+of that rule amongst those excellent people, who with great propriety
+are termed Friends. Public worship was attended both in the morning
+and afternoon, and I returned to London, feeling myself a much better
+man than when I left it, with a full determination to revisit a place
+where so much pleasure had been received. It was nearly three months
+before the resolve was carried into effect; but a second excursion was
+made in August, and Mr. Osborne was kind enough to show the house at
+West-End, together with the celebrated Burnham beeches, amongst which
+were several "which wreathed their old fantastic roots so high,"
+evidently the originals alluded to in the Elegy. They are scarcely a
+mile from West-End, and are approached through another of those sweet
+green lanes with which the neighborhood abounds. They are part of the
+original forest. The spot was one of Gray's favorite haunts; and it
+would be difficult to find one better fitted for a lover of nature,
+and a contemplative mind. Late in the autumn an invitation was
+received from Mr. Osborne to spend a day or two with him; but it was
+not until the beginning of November that advantage could be taken of
+it. Arriving at his house late in the afternoon, his servant informed
+me he had been suddenly called away to the Isle of Portland, in
+Dorsetshire, where Mr. Penn was erecting a castle. She also apologized
+for Mrs. Osborne's inability to receive company, in consequence of "a
+particular circumstance," which circumstance she blushingly
+acknowledged was the birth of a fine boy the night before. There was
+no resource, therefore, but to walk down either to Stoke Green, or to
+Salt-Hill, where there are two well-known taverns. Before proceeding,
+however, the church-yard, almost of necessity, must be visited; and
+although in a direct line, it was not far from Mr. Osborne's house, a
+considerable circuit had to be made to get into the inclosure. The
+evening was particularly still&mdash;you could have heard a leaf fall; the
+twilight was just setting in, and a haze, or fog, coming on, but the
+spot was soon reached; and whilst kneeling, engaged, like Old
+Mortality, in plucking some weeds and long grass, which had sprung up
+about <i>the</i> tomb since the last visit, a slight sound&mdash;a very gentle
+rustle&mdash;struck the ear. I supposed it to be the ivy on the
+church-wall, but the next instant it was followed by a
+movement&mdash;something very near was certainly approaching. On looking
+up, it is impossible to describe with what mixed feelings of
+astonishment, apprehension, and awe, I beheld coming from a corner of
+the church-yard, (where there was no ingress through the brick wall,)
+and directly toward the spot where I knelt, the figure of a tall,
+majestic lady, dressed in a black velvet pelisse, black velvet hat,
+surmounted by a plume of black ostrich feathers. She was stepping
+slowly toward me, over the graves. It would be useless to deny that
+fear fixed me to the spot on beholding the expression of her very
+serious face, and her eyes firmly fixed on mine.</p>
+
+<p>Appalled by her sudden appearance, it seemed as if she had just risen
+from the grave, dressed in a funeral pall; for I was facing toward
+that corner of the enclosure from which she was coming, and feeling
+certain no human being was there one minute before, I was breathless
+with apprehension, and glad to rest one arm on the tomb-stone until
+she came close up to me.</p><span class="pagenum">82</span>
+<br /><br />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 460px;">
+<img src="images/illus090.png" width="460" height="600"
+alt="in the grave-yard" title="" /></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+<p>With a graceful inclination of the head, she addressed me.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. B&mdash;&mdash;, I believe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, madam, that is my name."</p>
+
+<p>"And you came down to visit Mr. Osborne, who has been called away to
+Portland."</p>
+
+<p>I breathed more freely as I admitted it.</p>
+
+<p>"It happens," she continued, "to be inconvenient for Mrs. Osborne to
+receive you, and as you came by invitation from her husband, if you
+will accept a night's lodging from me, I am enabled to offer it. I am
+Mr. Penn's housekeeper, and none of the family are at home."</p>
+
+<p>Most joyfully was the invitation accepted; my mind was relieved from a
+very unpleasant load of apprehension&mdash;but the end was not yet! She
+began to lead the way over the graves, exactly toward the spot from
+whence she had so suddenly and mysteriously appeared; after proceeding
+a few steps, I ventured to say&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, madam, may I be allowed to inquire where you are leading to? I
+can see no egress in that direction, unless it be into an open grave
+or under a tomb-stone."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you will find that out presently," replied the lady, transfixing
+me with a glance of her bright blue eyes, and I thought I could detect
+a rather equivocal expression about the corners of her beautiful
+mouth. This was not very encouraging, and not much liked, but she was
+<span class="pagenum">83</span>
+a woman, and a lovely one, too much so by half to be a Banshee&mdash;I was
+on my guard, however, and ready, but the fog became so thick it was
+impossible to see three steps before us; in fact, it rolled over the
+church-yard wall in clouds. The lady linked her arm in mine, to
+prevent herself from stumbling, holding up her dress with the other
+hand, as the long dank grass was wetting it. At last we arrived in the
+very corner of the church-yard, she still keeping a firm hold of my
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>"In Heaven's name, madam, what do you mean by leading me into this
+corner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you are afraid, I see; but wait a moment."</p>
+
+<p>On saying which, I observed her to take something bright from her
+girdle, which apprehension converted into a stiletto or dirk, and such
+is the force of self-preservation, that I was on the point of tripping
+her up and throwing her on her back. But thrusting the supposed dirk
+against the wall&mdash;presto&mdash;open sesame&mdash;the wall gave way, and she drew
+me through a doorway. This was done so quickly it absolutely seemed
+magic. For an instant I thought of dropping her arm&mdash;indeed I should
+have done so, and retreated back through the door, but she held my arm
+tight, and I almost quaked, for I thought she had dragged me into a
+secret vault, the man&oelig;uvre was performed so adroitly. The drifting
+cold fog, however, soon made it plain we were in no vault, but the
+open park. In short, it was a door in the wall, flush with the bricks,
+and painted so exactly like them, it was impossible for a stranger to
+discover it. It was Mr. Penn's private entrance, and saved the family
+a walk of some distance. A narrow green walk, not previously remarked,
+led from the door to the west end of the church.</p>
+
+<p>The housekeeper of a nobleman or gentleman of wealth, in England,
+generally enjoys an enviable situation. Intrusted with much that is
+valuable, she is generally a person of the highest consideration and
+respect, and seldom fails to acquire the elevated manners and refined
+address of her superiors. The lady in question was exactly one of this
+description, well educated, and well read; a magnificent library was
+at her command, and having much time, and what is better, fine taste,
+she had profited by it. Never was an evening passed in greater
+comfort, or with a more agreeable companion. After partaking of that
+most exhilarating of all beverages, the pure hyson, we began to chat
+with almost the same freedom as though we had been long acquainted.
+During a pause in the conversation, after looking in my face a moment,
+she said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Will you answer me one question?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most certainly, any thing, you choose to ask."</p>
+
+<p>"But will you answer it honestly and truly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do not doubt it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, tell me, were you not most horribly afraid when you saw
+me coming toward you in the church-yard?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do frankly confess, madam, I <i>was horribly</i> afraid, and further, I
+firmly believe I should have taken to my heels, had you not been a
+very beautiful woman!"</p>
+
+<p>Before the sentence was well finished her laughter was irrepressible.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>knew</i> it, I <i>saw</i> it, I <i>intended</i> it," said she, laughing so
+heartily that the tears sprung out of her beautiful eyes, and she was
+obliged to use her handkerchief to wipe them away.</p>
+
+<p>"And do you feel no compunction for scaring a poor fellow half out of
+his wits?"</p>
+
+<p>"None whatever," replied she gayly. "What could you expect when
+prowling amongst the graves in a church-yard so lone and solitary,
+like a goule, on a damp November night? I saw you from Mr. Osborne's
+going toward it, and determined to startle you&mdash;and I think I
+succeeded pretty effectually."</p>
+
+<p>"You did, and had very nearly met with your reward, for when in the
+corner of that church-yard you pulled the key from your girdle, fully
+believing you to be the Evil One, I was on the point of strangling
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Much laughter at my expense ensued, for the lady lacked neither wit
+nor humor, and the evening flew faster than desired. On retiring, a
+man servant conducted me to an apartment on the upper floor of the
+mansion, and sleep soon came and soon went, for an innumerable number
+of rats and mice were careering all over the bed! and I felt them
+sniffing about my nose and mouth; I sprang bolt upright, striking
+right and left like a madman. This sent them pattering all about the
+room, and dreading that I might find myself minus a nose or an ear
+before morning, I groped all around the room for a bell, but could
+find none; proceeding into the corridor and standing on tip-toe,
+bell-wires were soon found, and soon set a ringing; watching at the
+top of the very long staircase, a light was at last seen ascending,
+borne in the hand of a very fat man, who proved to be the butler; he
+had nothing on but his shirt, and a huge pair of red plush, which
+enveloped his nether bulk. Puffing with the exertion of ascending so
+many stairs, he at last saw me, still more lightly clothed than
+himself, and inquired what I wanted?</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got a cat about the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, we have no cats, they destroy the young pheasants."</p>
+
+<p>"A dog, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No dog, sir, on account of the deer."</p>
+
+<p>"Then tell the housekeeper there are ten thousand rats and twenty
+thousand mice in the room I occupy!"</p>
+
+<p>As he descended the stair he was heard mumbling,
+"cats!"&mdash;"dogs!"&mdash;"rats!"&mdash;"mice!" and chuckling ready to burst his
+fat sides.</p>
+
+<p>After long waiting, the reflection of light on his red plush smalls
+(<i>greats</i> would better describe them) flashed up like a streak of
+lightning, and puffing harder than before, told me if I would follow
+him down stairs, he had orders to show me to another room.</p>
+
+<p>Gathering up the articles of my dress over my arm, we descended, and I
+was shown into a room of almost regal splendor. The lofty bedstead had
+a canopy, terminating in a gilded coronet, and the ample hangings were
+of rich Venetian crimson velvet, trimmed and festooned "about, around
+<span class="pagenum">84</span>
+and underneath." The ascent to this unusually lofty bed was by a
+flight of superb steps, covered with rich embossed velvet. Out of the
+royal palaces I had never seen such a bed.</p>
+
+<p>In consequence of having stood so long undressed on the marble floor
+at the top of the stairs, shivering with cold, the magnificent bed, on
+getting into it, was found comfortable beyond expression. It felt as
+if it would never cease yielding under the pressure; it sunk down,
+down, down&mdash;there appeared no stop to its declension; and then its
+delicious warmth&mdash;what a luxury to a shivering man! Hugging myself
+under the idea of a glorious night's rest, and composing myself in the
+easiest possible position, it was more desirable to lay awake in such
+full enjoyment, than to sleep&mdash;sleep had lost all its charms. I was in
+the bed of beds&mdash;the celestial!</p>
+
+<p>After thus laying about twenty minutes, enjoying perfect bliss, a
+sensation of some uneasiness began slowly to manifest itself, which
+induced a change of position; but the change did not relieve the
+uncomfortable feeling. It would be difficult to describe it, but it
+increased every moment, until at last it seemed as if the points of a
+hundred thousand fine needles were puncturing every pore. This was
+borne with great resignation and equanimity for some time, expecting
+it would go off; but the stinging sensation increased, and finally
+became intolerable; the celestial bed became one of infernal torture.
+I tossed, and dashed, and threw about my limbs in all directions, and
+almost bellowed like a mad bull.</p>
+
+<p>What to do to relieve the torment I knew not. To ask for another bed
+was out of the question, and to attempt to sleep on thorns&mdash;thorns!
+they would have been thought a luxury to this of lying enduring the
+pains of the doomed. After long endurance of the pain, and in racking
+my brains considering what was best to be done, the intolerable
+sensations began by degrees to subside and grow less and less; but the
+heat, although nearly insupportable, was more easily endured. That
+horrible night was a long one&mdash;and long will it be before it is
+forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>Coming down in the morning, expecting to find the lady all smiles and
+graces, I was surprised and hurt to find she received me rather
+coldly, and with averted head; but when she could no longer avoid
+turning round, never, in the whole course of my life, was I more
+astonished at the change she had undergone. It was a total, a radical
+change&mdash;she was hardly to be recognized&mdash;and it was scarcely possible
+to believe she was the lovely woman of the last night. Not that her
+splendid figure was altered&mdash;in fact, an elegant morning-dress rather
+tended to improve and set-off her full and almost voluptuous contour,
+and her soft, sweet voice was equally musical; but her face&mdash;the
+charms of her lovely face were vanished and gone!</p>
+
+<p>Every one will admit that the nose is a most important, nay, a very
+prominent feature in female beauty. It is indispensible that a belle
+should have a beautiful nose; in fact, it is a question whether a
+woman without an eye would not be preferable to one with&mdash;but I
+anticipate.</p>
+
+<p>"I see your surprise, sir," said she, with evident chagrin, "but it is
+all owing to you."</p>
+
+<p>"To <i>me</i>, madam! I presume you allude to the altered appearance of
+your face, but I cannot conceive what I can have had to do with the
+change."</p>
+
+<p>In brief, her beautiful nose was all over as red as scarlet,
+particularly the point of it, which exactly resembled a large red
+cherry, or ripe Siberian crab-apple. Now just think of it&mdash;a very fair
+woman with a blood-red nose! Faugh! it is enough to sicken the most
+devoted admirer of the sex. Suppose any gentleman going to be married,
+and full of love and admiration, should, on going to the house of his
+beloved bride on the appointed morning, to take her to church, humming
+to himself that sweet song, "She Wove a Wreath of Roses," finds her
+beautiful nose become a big rosy nosegay&mdash;would he not be apt to
+suppose she had over night been making pretty free sacrifices, not to
+the little god of love, but to jolly Bacchus? I did not do <i>my</i> belle
+such an injustice&mdash;and yet what could I think?</p>
+
+<p>"How do you make out that I had any thing to do with such an important
+alteration, madam."</p>
+
+<p>"O, as easy as it is true. Did not your wo-begone terrors in the
+church-yard throw me into immoderate fits of laughter, as you well
+know? And did not your adventures, after you retired, when reported to
+me, throw me all but into convulsions&mdash;the more I thought, the more I
+laughed, until it brought on a nervous headache so intense, it felt as
+if my head would have split? To relieve so distressing a pain, I took
+a bottle of eau de cologne to bed with me, and pulling out the
+stopper, propped it up by the pillow, right under my nose. I quite
+forgot it, and fell asleep with the bottle in that position."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said I, "I suspected <i>the bottle</i> had something to do with it."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite true, quite true&mdash;but not the bottle you wickedly insinuate.
+How long I slept I know not, it must have been a long time; when I
+awoke, I was surprised to find my shoulder cold and wet&mdash;and then I
+recollected the bottle of cologne; but what was my horror, on getting
+up, to behold my face in this frightful condition, you may easily
+imagine."</p>
+
+<p>Poor, dear lady, if she laughed heartily at the scare she gave me in
+the church-yard, I now had my revenge, full and ample&mdash;for I could not
+refrain from laughing outright every time I looked in her face; and
+laughter, when it is hearty and hilarious, is catching, almost as much
+as yawning; and I fancy few will dispute how potent, how Mesmeric, or
+magnetic the effect of an outstretched arm and wide gaping oscitation
+is. I declare, I caught myself gaping the other night on seeing my
+wife's white cat stretch herself on the rug, and yawn.</p>
+
+<p>"I really should feel obliged if you would be polite enough to keep
+your eye off my face," said the lady.</p>
+
+<p>Now it need hardly be remarked, that when any thing is the matter with
+a person's face, be it a wall-eye, a squint, a cancer, very bad teeth,
+or any such disfigurement or malady, it is impossible to look at any
+other spot&mdash;it is sure to fix your gaze, you can look at no other
+<span class="pagenum">85</span>
+part; you cannot keep your eye off it, unless you are more generous,
+or better bred than most men.</p>
+
+<p>"I really should feel obliged if you would be polite enough to keep
+your eye off my nose; it puts me out of countenance," said the fair
+one. She said this half earnest, half jest; and I obliged her, by
+directing my looks to her taper fingers and white hands&mdash;and the
+conversation proceeded with the breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>"May I inquire how you rested, after your escape from the ten thousand
+rats, and twenty thousand mice, which attacked you before you changed
+your room?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you ask the question seriously?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, then, to use a homely but a very expressive phrase, it was out
+of the frying-pan into the fire."</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy on us! how can that be; you had what is considered the best bed
+in the house."</p>
+
+<p>"O, I dare say&mdash;no doubt, the softest I ever lay in; but instead of
+ten thousand rats, and twenty thousand mice, I had not been in it
+fifteen minutes ere a hundred and twenty thousand hornets, wasps,
+scorpions, and centipedes, two or three thousand hedge-hogs, and as
+many porcupines, seemed to be full drive at me; and had I not soon
+been relieved by perspiration, I should assuredly have gone mad, and
+been in bedlam. Nervous headache! Why, madam, it would have been
+considered paradise, compared with the purgatory you inflicted on me."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes sparkled with glee&mdash;and she began to laugh joyously; but soon
+checking herself, and assuming a sort of mock sympathy, said,</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry&mdash;<i>very</i> sorry, indeed, that you should have found
+your bed so like the love of some men, rather hot to hold."</p>
+
+<p>On inquiring whether the grand coroneted bed, which had been as a hot
+gridiron to me, was intended for any particular person, she informed
+me it was for a Russian nobleman, Baron Nicholay, a much respected
+friend of Mr. Penn's, who sometimes visited Stoke, and who, being used
+to a bed of down in the cold climate of his own country, Mr. Penn,
+with his characteristic kindness and attention, had it prepared for
+the baron's especial comfort. She added that the reason why Mr. Penn
+had all his life remained a bachelor, was in consequence of an early
+attachment which he had formed for the baron's sister; that they were
+to have been married, but in driving the lady in a <i>drouschky</i>, or
+sledge, on the ice of the Neva, at St. Petersburg, by some fatality
+the ice gave way, and notwithstanding the most strenuous exertions of
+her lover, and the servant who stood behind the sled, the lady, by the
+force of the current, was swept away under the ice, and never
+afterward seen. That this shocking accident had such effect on Mr.
+Penn's mind, as well it might, he never could think of any other
+woman, but remained true and constant to his first love, mourning her
+tragic end all his life."</p>
+
+<p>This was exactly the case with that most amiable and gifted man, the
+late Sir Thomas Lawrence, who being engaged and about to be married to
+a daughter of the celebrated Mrs. Siddons, the young lady was suddenly
+snatched from him by a rapid consumption; and Sir Thomas remained
+faithful to her beloved memory, wearing mourning during his life, and
+ever after used black wax in sealing his letters, as the writer can
+prove by many, many received from him during a series of years until
+his lamented death.</p>
+
+<p>On asking my intelligent companion if she knew any particulars
+respecting Gray, she replied she did know a great deal regarding him;
+that Mr. Penn idolized his memory, and had made collections respecting
+him and the personages mentioned in the Long Story. At my pressing
+solicitation she was good enough to say she would write out all the
+particulars&mdash;a promise which she faithfully kept; and they may
+hereafter appear in some shape.</p>
+
+<p>The morning proving foggy and damp, the time (instead of going to
+church) was passed in the library&mdash;a magnificent room, nearly two
+hundred feet long, extending the whole length of the building, and
+filled with books from floor to ceiling.</p>
+
+<p>In one of the principal rooms, mounted upon a pedestal, there is a
+large piece of the identical tree under the shade of which Mr. Penn's
+celebrated ancestor, William, signed his treaty with the Indians,
+constituting him Lord Proprietary of what was afterward, and what will
+ever be, Pennsylvania. The piece of wood is part of a large limb,
+about five feet long. The tree was blown down in 1812, and the portion
+in question was transmitted by Dr. Rush to Mr. Penn, who had it
+varnished in its original state, and a brass plate affixed to it, with
+an inscription.</p>
+
+<p>The sun broke through the fog about twelve o'clock, and had as
+cheering an effect on the landscape, as it almost invariably has on
+the mind. In the afternoon, after a most delightful day spent with the
+fair housekeeper, it became time to think of returning to London, and
+as the distance would be much lessened by proceeding through Mr.
+Penn's grounds, and going down to Salt-Hill instead of Slough, the
+lady offered to accompany me to the extent of the shrubberies, and
+point out the way. These enchanting shrubberies are adorned with busts
+of the Roman and English poets, placed on antique terms, along the
+well-kept, smooth gravel-walks, which wind about in many a serpentine
+direction through the grounds. There are appropriate quotations from
+the works of the different bards, placed on the front of each
+terminus. The bust of Gray, is placed under an ancient wide-spreading
+oak, with this inscription:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch<br />
+A broader, browner shade;<br />
+Where'er the rude moss-grown beech<br />
+O'er canopies the glade,<br />
+With me the muse shall sit and think,<br />
+At ease reclined in rustic state.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>There is an elegant small building, inscribed "The Temple of Fancy,"
+in which a bust of the immortal Shakspeare is the only ornament. It is
+on a small knoll, commanding an extensive prospect through the trees,
+which are opened like a fan. Windsor Castle terminates this lovely
+view. Within the temple there is a long inscription from the Merry
+Wives of Windsor, Act 5, sc. 5, beginning thus,</p><span class="pagenum">86</span>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out;<br />
+Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room;<br />
+That it may stand till the perpetual doom,<br />
+In state as wholesome, as in state 'tis fit,<br />
+Worthy the owner, and the owner it.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>The grounds, laid out with so much fine taste, terminate in a lovely
+little dell, sheltered on every side. In the centre there is a circle
+bordered with box, and growing within it, a collection of all the
+known varieties of heath. The plants were then in full flower, and
+innumerable honey-bees were feeding and buzzing. To one who, in early
+life, had been accustomed to tread the heath-covered hills of
+Scotland, the unexpected sight of these blooming plants of the
+mountain was a treat; and the effect was heightened on seeing the bust
+of Scotia's most admired bard, Thomson, adorning it. The inscription
+was from that sublime, almost divine hymn, with which the Seasons
+conclude, and eminently well applied to the heath, as some one or
+other of the varieties blossom nearly all the year through.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+These, as they change, Almighty Father, these,<br />
+Are but the varied God. The rolling year<br />
+Is full of thee.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>In that secluded dell I bade a sorrowful and unwilling adieu to the
+lady who had shown such extraordinary politeness. It may be worth the
+while to mention that she was soon after married, much against the
+wish of Mr. Penn, who had a great aversion to any changes in his
+establishment; for a kinder, a better, a more pious, or more
+accomplished gentleman than the late John Penn, of Stoke Park, England
+could not boast.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>In consequence of the extraordinary prices lately paid for the
+autograph copies of Gray's poems, more particularly that of the Elegy,
+it has been thought it would be acceptable to the readers of the
+Magazine to be presented with a <i>fac simile</i>. The following have
+therefore been traced, and engraved with great care and accuracy, from
+the first and last stanzas of the Elegy, and the signature from a
+letter. These will give an exact idea of the peculiarly neat and
+elegant handwriting of the Poet of Stoke.</p>
+<br />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illus097.png" width="400" height="197"
+alt="handwritten poem by Gray" title="" /></div>
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+The Curfew tolls the Knell of parting Day,<br />
+The lowing Herd wind slowly o'er the Lea,<br />
+The Plowman homeard plods his weary Way,<br />
+And leaves the World to Darkness &amp; to me.<br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">No farther seek his merits to disclose,</span><br />
+Or draw his Frailties from their dread Abode,<br />
+(There they alike in trembling Hope repose)<br />
+The Bosom of his Father, &amp; his God.<br />
+</div><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Your humble Serv<sup>t</sup></span><span style="margin-left: 6em;">T. Gray</span>
+<br />
+<span class="pagenum">87</span>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="saw" id="saw">THE SAW-MILL.</a></h3>
+
+<h4>FROM THE GERMAN OF KORNER.</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY WILLIAM C. BRYANT.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+In yonder mill I rested,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And sat me down to look</span><br />
+Upon the wheel's quick glimmer.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And on the flowing brook.</span><br />
+<br />
+As in a dream, before me,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The saw, with restless play,</span><br />
+Was cleaving through a fir-tree<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Its long and steady way.</span><br />
+<br />
+The tree through all its fibres<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With living motion stirred,</span><br />
+And, in a dirge-like murmur,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">These solemn words I heard&mdash;</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh, thou, who wanderest hither,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A timely guest thou art!</span><br />
+For thee this cruel engine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is passing through my heart.</span><br />
+<br />
+When soon, in earth's still bosom,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy hours of rest begin,</span><br />
+This wood shall form the chamber<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whose walls shall close thee in.</span><br />
+<br />
+Four planks&mdash;I saw and shuddered&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dropped in that busy mill;</span><br />
+Then, as I tried to answer,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">At once the wheel was still.</span><br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="effie" id="effie">EFFIE MORRIS.</a></h3>
+
+<h4>OR LOVE AND PRIDE.</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY ENNA DUVAL.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+So changes mortal Life with fleeting years;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A mournful change, should Reason fail to bring</span><br />
+The timely insight that can temper fears,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And from vicissitude remove its sting;</span><br />
+While Faith aspires to seats in that domain<br />
+Where joys are perfect&mdash;neither wax nor wane. <span class="smcap">Wordsworth</span>.<br />
+</div><br />
+
+<p>It was a warm, cloudy, sultry summer morning&mdash;scarcely a breath of air
+stirred the clematis and woodbine blossoms that peeped in and
+clustered around the breakfast-room window, greeting us with fresh
+fragrance; but on this morning no pleasant air breathed sighingly over
+them, and they looked drooping and faded. I was visiting my friend
+Effie Morris, who resided in a pleasant country village, some twenty
+or thirty miles from my city home. We were both young, and had been
+school-girl friends from early childhood. The preceding winter had
+been our closing session at school, and we were about entering our
+little world as women. Effie was an only daughter of a widowed mother.
+Possessing comfortable means, they lived most pleasantly in their
+quiet romantic little village. Effie had stayed with me during the
+winters of her school-days, while I had always returned the compliment
+by spending the summer months at her pleasant home. Her mother was
+lovely both in mind and disposition, and though she had suffered much
+from affliction, she still retained youthful and sympathizing
+feelings. Effie was gentle and beautiful, and the most innocent,
+unsophisticated little enthusiast that ever breathed. She had arrived
+at the age of seventeen, and to my certain knowledge had never felt
+the first heart-throb; never had been in love. In vain had we attended
+the dancing-school balls, and little parties. A host of boy-lovers
+surrounded the little set to which we belonged, and yet Effie remained
+entirely heart-whole. She never flirted, never sentimentalized with
+gentlemen, and she was called cold and matter-of-fact, by those who
+judged her alone by her manner; but one glance in her soft, dove-like
+eyes, it seems to me, should have set them a doubting. I have seen
+those expressive eyes well up with tears when together we would read
+some old story or poem&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+"Two shall be named pre-eminently dear&mdash;<br />
+The gentle Lady married to the Moor,<br />
+And heavenly Una with her milk-white Lamb"&mdash;<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>or leaning from our bed-room window, at midnight, we would gaze on the
+silvery moon in the heavens, listening to the rippling notes of the
+water-spirits that to our fancy inhabited the sparkling stream that
+ran near the house. How beautifully would she improvise at times&mdash;for
+improvisations in truth were they, while she was quite unconscious of
+her gift. She never wrote a line of poetry, but when in such moods,
+every word she uttered was true, pure poetry. She had a most
+remarkable memory, and seemed never to forget a line she read. To me
+she would repeat page after page of our favorite authors, when we
+would be wandering through the woods, our arms entwined around each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>Effie Morris was an enthusiastic dreamer, and entertained certain
+little romantic exaggerated opinions, out of which it was impossible
+to argue her&mdash;sometimes her actions ran contrary to these opinions,
+and we would fancy that surely now she would admit the fallacy of her
+arguments in favor of them; but when taxed with it, she would in the
+most earnest, sincere manner defend her original position, proving to
+us that no matter how her actions appeared to others, they were in her
+own mind entirely in keeping with these first expressed opinions,
+which to us seemed entirely at variance. But she was so gentle in
+argument, and proved so plainly that though her reasoning might be
+false, her thoughts were so beautiful and pure, as to make us feel
+perfectly willing to pardon her obstinacy.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning I speak of, we lounged languidly over the
+breakfast-table, not caring to taste of the tempting crisp rolls, or
+drink of the fragrant Mocha juice, the delicious fumes of which rose
+up from the delicate China cups all unheeded by us. At first we talked
+listlessly of various things, wandering from subject to subject, and
+at last, to our surprise, we found ourselves engaged in a sprightly,
+animated argument; each forgetting the close atmosphere that seemed at
+first to weigh down all vivacity. The subject of this argument was the
+possibility of pride overcoming love in a woman's heart. Mrs. Morris
+and I contended that love weakened or quite died out if the object
+proved unworthy or indifferent. Our romantic Effie of course took the
+opposite side. True love to her mind was unalterable. Falsehood,
+deceit, change&mdash;no matter what sorrow, she said, might afflict the
+pure loving heart&mdash;its love would still remain. "I cannot," she
+exclaimed enthusiastically, "imagine for an instant that true, genuine
+love should&mdash;could have any affinity with pride. When I see a woman
+giving evidence of what is called high spirit in love matters, I
+straightway lose all sympathy for her heart-troubles. I say to
+myself&mdash;she has never truly loved."</p>
+
+<p>We argued, but in vain; at length her mother laughingly cried
+<span class="pagenum">88</span>
+out&mdash;"Nonsense, Effie, no one would sooner resent neglect from a
+lover than yourself. True love, as you call it, would never make such
+a spiritless, meek creature out of the material of which you are
+composed."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, in truth," I added, as I saw our pretty enthusiast, half vexed,
+shake her head obstinately at her mother's prophecy&mdash;"I can see those
+soft eyes of yours, Effie, darling, flash most eloquent fire, should
+your true love meet with unworthiness."</p>
+
+<p>During our conversation the clouds had broken, the wind changed, and a
+delicious breeze came sweeping in at the windows as if to cool our
+cheeks, flushed with the playful argument.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you ride or walk this morning, girls?" asked Mrs. Morris, as we
+arose from the breakfast-table.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, let us take our books, guitar and work up the mill-stream to the
+old oak, dear mamma," exclaimed Effie, "and spend an hour or two
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"But it will be mid-day when we return," replied her mother.</p>
+
+<p>"That's true," said Effie, laughing, "but Leven can drive up to the
+old broken bridge for us at mid-day."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure he can," said Mrs. Morris, and accordingly we sallied
+forth, laden with books and netting, while a servant trudged on ahead,
+with camp-stools and guitar. Nothing eventful occurred on that
+particular morning, and yet though years have passed since then, I
+never recall the undulating scenery of the narrow, dark, winding
+mill-stream of Stamford, but it presents itself to my mind's eye as it
+looked on that morning. In my waking or sleeping dreams, I see the old
+oak at the morning hours, and whenever the happy moments I have spent
+at Effie Morris' country home come to my memory, this morning is
+always the brightest, most vivid picture presented before me by my
+fancy. As Hans Christian Andersen says with such poetic eloquence in
+his Improvisatore&mdash;"It was one of those moments which occur but once
+in a person's life, which, without signalizing itself by any great
+life-adventure, yet stamps itself in its whole coloring upon the
+Psyche wings."</p>
+
+<p>We walked slowly along the narrow bank&mdash;tall trees towered around us,
+whose waving branches, together with the floating clouds, were
+mirrored with exquisite distinctness on the bosom of the dark, deep,
+narrow stream&mdash;near at shore lay the dreaming, luxurious water-lilies,
+and a thousand beautiful blossoms bent over the bank, and kissed
+playfully the passing waters, or coquetted with the inconstant breeze.
+Our favorite resting-place was about a mile's walk up the beautiful
+stream, and to reach it we had to cross to the opposite shore, over a
+rude, half-ruined bridge, which added to the picturesque beauty of the
+scenery. The oak was a century old tree, and stood upon rising ground
+a short distance from the shore. How calmly and happily passed that
+morning. Effie sang wild ballads for us, and her rich full notes were
+echoed from the distance by the spirit voices of the hills. We wove
+garlands of water-lilies and wild flowers, and when I said we were
+making Ophelias of ourselves, Effie, with shy earnestness most
+bewitching, unloosened her beautiful hair, twining the long locks, and
+banding her temples with the water-lily garlands and long grass&mdash;then
+wrapping an India muslin mantle around her shoulders, she gathered up
+the ends on her arms, filling them with sprigs of wild blossoms, and
+acted poor Ophelia's mad scene most touchingly. Tears gathered in our
+eyes as she concluded the wild, wailing melody</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+"And will he not come again,<br />
+And will he not come again,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">No, no, he is dead,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Go to thy death-bed,</span><br />
+He never will come again.<br />
+<br />
+"His beard was as white as snow,<br />
+All flaxen was his poll&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">He is gone, he is gone,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And we cast away moan&mdash;</span><br />
+God a mercy on his soul."<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>There was a deep, touching pathos in her voice as she uttered the
+minor notes of this song, and her soft eyes beamed half vacantly, half
+reverently, as looking up to heaven she uttered in low breathing
+tones&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+"And of all Christian souls! I pray God!"<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Then suddenly arousing herself, she looked toward us and murmured, as
+she turned away with a sad, tearful smile, "God be wi' you." The
+illusion was perfect, and we both sobbed outright.</p>
+
+<p>Effie Morris was one of the few true geniuses I have known in my life
+time; and when I have said this to those who only met with her in
+society, they have laughed and wondered what genius there could be in
+my cold, quiet friend.</p>
+
+<p>The following winter Effie entered society. Her mother had many gay
+and fashionable friends in the principal northern cities, and during
+the winter season her letters to me were dated at one time from
+Washington, then again from some other gay city; and in this free from
+care pleasant manner did her days pass. Household duties kept me,
+though a young girl, close at home. Possibly if Effie had been thrown
+into the active domestic sphere which was my mission, her history
+might have been different. She certainly would have been less of a
+dreamer. Exquisite waking dreams, woven of the shining fairy threads
+of fancy, meet with but poor encouragement in every-day life, and take
+flight sometimes never to return, when one is rudely awakened from
+them in order to attend to "the baked and the broiled." I remember,
+when a girl, feeling at times a little restive under the duties
+unavoidably imposed upon me, and often would indulge in a morbid
+sentimental humor, dreaming over some "rare old poet" or blessed
+romance, to the exceeding great detriment of my household affairs,
+making my poor father sigh over a tough, badly cooked stake, and
+cheerless, dusty house; but these moods, to my credit be it told, were
+of rare occurrence; and I say now the best school for a dreaming,
+enthusiastic girl, who sighs for the realization of her fancy visions,
+is to place her in charge of some active duty&mdash;to make her feel it is
+exacted from her&mdash;that she must see it performed. I mean not that a
+<span class="pagenum">89</span>
+delicate intellectual spirit should be borne to the earth disheartened
+with care and hard labor&mdash;but a share of domestic cares, domestic
+duties, is both wholesome and necessary for a woman. Cultivate if
+possible in a girl a taste for reading and study first, then she will
+soon find time for intellectual pursuits, which, from being in a
+measure denied to her, will become dearer. In her attempts to secure
+moments for the indulgence of her mental desires she will
+unconsciously learn order, management and economy of time and labor,
+thus will her mind be strengthened. But I am digressing, dear reader.
+I am sadly talkative on this subject, and sometimes fancy I could
+educate a girl most famously; and when "thinking aloud" of the perfect
+woman my theory would certainly complete, I am often pitched rudely
+from my self-satisfied position, by some married friend saying, in a
+half vexed, impatient tone&mdash;"Ah, yes, this is all very fine in
+theory&mdash;no doubt you would be successful&mdash;we all know the homely
+adage&mdash;'old bachelors' wives and old maids' children,' &amp;c."</p>
+
+<p>Effie was not what is called a belle in society. She was too cold and
+spiritual. Her beauty was too delicate to make an impression in the
+gay ball-room; and she cared little for what both men and women in the
+world pine after&mdash;popularity. She danced and talked only with those
+who pleased her, and sometimes not at all if it did not suit her
+fancy. There was a great contrast between her mother and herself. Mrs.
+Morris, though "forty rising," was still a fine-looking, <i>distingu&eacute;</i>
+woman; and on her re-entrance into society with her daughter, she
+produced a greater impression than did Effie. She had a merry, joyous
+disposition, and without possessing half the mental superiority her
+daughter was gifted with, she had a light, easy conversational
+ability, playful repartee, an elegant style and manner, and a
+sufficient knowledge of accomplishments to produce an effect in the
+gay world, and make her the centre of attraction of every circle she
+entered; and the world wondered so brilliant a mother should have so
+indifferent a daughter. She doted on Effie; and, I am sure, loved her
+all the more for her calm, quiet way. She often said to me, "Effie is
+very superior to the women one meets with&mdash;she has a pure, elevated
+spirit. So delicate a nature as hers is not properly appreciated in
+this world."</p>
+
+<p>One summer there came a wooing of Effie a most excellent gentleman. He
+had met with her the preceding winter in some gay circle, and had
+discernment enough to discover the merits of our jewel. How anxiously
+Mrs. Morris and I watched the wooing&mdash;for we were both anxious for Mr.
+Grayson's success. He was in every way worthy of her&mdash;high-minded,
+honorable, and well to do in the world&mdash;some years her senior, but
+handsome and elegant in appearance. He must have had doubts of his
+success, for he let the live-long summer pass ere he ventured on his
+love speech. We were a pleasant party&mdash;Mrs. Morris, Effie, myself, Mr.
+Grayson, and Lucien Decker, a cousin of Mrs. Morris&mdash;a college youth,
+who only recently had become one of the family. Lucien Decker's family
+lived in a distant state, and only until he came to a northern college
+to finish his studies had he known his pleasant relatives. He was a
+bright, interesting, graceful youth, and wondrous clever, we thought.
+We would spend morning after morning wandering up the mill-stream,
+resting under the old oak, where Mr. Grayson would discourse most
+pleasantly, or read aloud to us; and sometimes, after Effie and I had
+chanted simple melodies, we would prevail on Lucien to recite some of
+his own poetry, at which he was, indeed, most clever&mdash;he recited well,
+and wrote very delicately and beautifully. At last Mr. Grayson
+ventured on a proposal; but, to our sorrow, he met with a calm, gentle
+refusal; and to relieve his disappointment, he sailed in the fall for
+Europe.</p>
+
+<p>Not long after his departure, to our surprise, Effie and Lucien
+announced themselves as lovers. No objection, surely, could be made;
+but such a thing had never entered our minds. Though of the same age
+with Effie and myself, he had always seemed as a boy in comparison to
+us, and I had always treated him with the playful familiarity of a
+youth. He was more intelligent and interesting than young men of his
+age generally are; indeed he gave promise of talent&mdash;and he was
+likewise good-looking; but, in truth, when we compared him with the
+elegant and finished Mr. Grayson, we felt a wee bit out of patience;
+and if we did not give utterance aloud to our thoughts, I shrewdly
+suspect if those thoughts had formed themselves into words, those
+words would have sounded very much like, "Nonsensical sentimentality!"
+"strange infatuation!" but nothing could be said with propriety, and
+the engagement was fully entered into. Some time had necessarily to
+elapse before its fulfillment, however, for the lover was but twenty;
+but it was well understood, that when he had finished his studies, and
+was settled in his profession, he was to wed our darling Effie. After
+the acceptance of his suit, Lucien seemed perfectly happy, and, I must
+confess, made himself particularly interesting. He walked and read
+with us, and wrote such beautiful poetry in honor of Effie's charms,
+that we were at last quite propitiated. He was, indeed, an ardent
+lover; and his enthusiastic, earnest wooing, was very different from
+Mr. Grayson's calm, dignified manner. He caused our quiet Effie a deal
+of entertainment, however; for when he was an acknowledged lover, like
+all such ardent dispositions, he showed himself to be an exacting one.
+Her calm, cold manner would set him frantic at times; and he would vow
+she could not love him; but these lovers' quarrels instead of wearying
+Effie, seemed to produce a contrary effect.</p>
+
+<p>They had been engaged a year or so, when one summer a belle of the
+first water made her appearance in the village-circle of Stamford.
+Kate Barclay was her name. She was a Southerner, and a reputed
+heiress. She had come rusticating, she said; and shrugging her pretty
+shoulders, she would declare in a bewitching, languid tone, "truly a
+face and figure needed rest after a brilliant winter campaign." Old
+Mrs. Barclay, a dear, nice old lady in the village, was her aunt; and
+as we were the only young ladies of a companionable age, Kate was, of
+<span class="pagenum">90</span>
+course, a great deal with us. She was, indeed, a delicious looking
+creature. She had large, melting dark eyes, and rich curling masses of
+hair, that fell in clusters over her neck and shoulders, giving her a
+most romantic appearance. She understood fully all the little arts and
+wiles of a belle; and she succeeded in securing admiration.
+Superficial she was, but showy; and could put on at will all moods,
+from the proud and dignified, to the bewitching and childlike. We had
+no gentlemen visiters with us when she first came, not even Lucien;
+for some engagement had taken him from Effie for a week or two, and
+our pretty southern damsel almost expired with <i>ennui</i>. When we first
+met with her, she talked so beautifully of the delights of a quiet
+country life, seemed so enchanted with every thing and every body, and
+so eloquent in praise of rambles in the forest, sunsets, moonlights,
+rushing streamlets, &amp;c., &amp;c., that we decided she was an angel
+forthwith. But one or two ramblings quite finished her&mdash;for she
+complained terribly of dust, sun, and fatigue; moreover, we quite
+neglected to notice or admire her picturesque rambling dress, which
+inadvertency provoked her into telling us that the gentlemen at
+Ballston, or some other fashionable watering-place, had declared she
+looked in it quite like Robin Hood's maid Marian. The gorgeous summer
+sunsets and clear moonlight nights, soon wearied her&mdash;for we were too
+much occupied with the beauties of nature to notice her fine
+attitudes, or beautiful eyes cast up imploringly to heaven, while she
+recited, in a half theatrical manner, passages of poetry descriptive
+of her imaginary feelings. I suspected she was meditating a flitting,
+when one day Lucien, and two of his student friends, made their
+appearance amongst us. How quickly her mood changed; the listless,
+yawning, dissatisfied manner disappeared, and we heard her the first
+night of their arrival delighting them, as she had us, with her
+fascinating ecstasies over rural enjoyments. She sentimentalized,
+flirted, romped, laughed, dressed in a picturesque manner, and "was
+every thing by turns, but nothing long," evidently bent upon bringing
+to her feet the three gentlemen. Lucien's friends soon struck their
+flags, and were her humble cavaliers&mdash;but a right tyrannical mistress
+she proved to them, making them scowl, and say sharp things to each
+other in a most ferocious manner, very amusing to us; but Lucien was
+impregnable. She played off all her arts in vain, he seemed
+unconscious, and devoted himself entirely to Effie. At first she was
+so occupied with securing the two other prizes she overlooked his
+delinquency, but when certain of them, she was piqued into
+accomplishing a conquest of him likewise. I did not think she would be
+successful, and amused myself by quietly watching her man&oelig;uvres.</p>
+
+<p>One bright moonlight evening the gentlemen rowed us up the
+mill-stream, and as we returned we landed at our favorite oak. The
+waters, swelled by recent rains, came dashing and tumbling along in
+mimic billows; the moon beamed down a heavenly radiance, and as the
+little wavelets broke against the shore, they glittered like molten
+silver, covering the wild blossoms with dazzling fairy gems. Kate's
+two lovers were talking and walking with Mrs. Morris and Effie along
+the shore. Lucien, Kate, and I, remained on a little bank that rose
+abruptly from the water. She did, indeed, look most bewitchingly
+beautiful; her soft, white dress, bound at the waist by a flowing
+ribbon, floated in graceful folds around her; her lovely neck,
+shoulders and arms, were quite uncovered, and her rich, dark hair fell
+in loose, long curls, making picturesque shadows in the moonlight. She
+could act the inspired enthusiast to perfection; and what our Effie
+really was, she could affect most admirably. She seemed unconscious of
+our presence; indeed, I do not think she thought I was near her, and,
+as if involuntarily, she burst out into one of her affected
+rhapsodies, her eyes beamed brightly, and she expressed her feelings
+most rapturously, concluding with repeating, in low, earnest, half
+trembling tones, some lines of Lucien's she had taken from my Scrap
+Book, descriptive of the very scene before her, written the preceding
+summer for Effie, after a moonlight ramble together. The poetry was
+quite impassioned; and I heard Kate murmur with a sigh, as she turned
+away after concluding her quotation, as if sick at heart, "Ah! I would
+give years of brilliant success for one hour of devotion from such a
+lover."</p>
+
+<p>No one heard her but Lucien and myself&mdash;and I was one listener more
+than she would have desired; for Lucien's ear alone was the
+ejaculation intended, the good for nothing little flirt. It produced
+the intended effect, for I saw Lucien watching her with admiring
+interest. She noted the impression, and cunningly kept it up. There
+was such a contrast between Effie and Kate, rather to Effie's
+disadvantage, I had to confess, and Kate's affected expressions of
+intense feeling, rather served to heighten Effie's natural coldness of
+manner. Why waste words&mdash;the conclusion is already divined. The
+coquette succeeded&mdash;and ere a week had passed Lucien was her
+infatuated, devoted admirer; Effie was quite forgotten. Lucien's two
+friends, wretched, and completely maddened by the cool, contemptuous
+rejections they received from Kate, left Stamford, vowing eternal
+hatred for womankind, and uttering deep, dire denunciations against
+all coquettes, leaving the field open to Lucien, who seemed to have
+perfectly lost all sense of propriety in his infatuation. Effie looked
+on as calmly and quietly as though she were not particularly
+interested. I fancied, for the credit of romance and sentiment, that
+her cheek was paler; and I thought I could detect at times a trembling
+of her delicate lips&mdash;but she said not a word. Mrs. Morris and I
+displayed much more feeling; but what could we do&mdash;and half amused,
+half vexed, we watched the conduct of the naughty little flirt.
+Suddenly Kate received a summons home&mdash;and right glad I was to hear of
+it. She announced it to us one evening, saying she expected her father
+the next day. The following afternoon she came over to our cottage,
+accompanied with two middle-aged gentlemen. The elder of the two was
+Mr. Barclay, her father, who had known Mrs. Morris in early life; the
+<span class="pagenum">91</span>
+other she introduced as Col. Paulding, a friend. Col. Paulding's
+manner struck us with surprise. He called her "Kate;" and though
+dignified, was affectionate. She seemed painfully embarrassed, and
+anxious to terminate the visit. She answered our questions hurriedly,
+and appeared ill at ease. Lucien was not present, fortunately for her;
+and I fancied she watched the door, as if anxiously fearing his
+entrance; certain it was she started nervously at every distant sound.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you revisit Stamford next summer, Miss Barclay?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>Kate replied that she was uncertain at present.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose Kate has not told you," said her father, laughingly, "that
+long before another summer she will cease to be mistress of her own
+movements. She expects to be in Germany next summer, I believe, with
+her husband," and he looked significantly at Col. Paulding, who was
+standing out on the lawn with Mrs. Morris, admiring the beautiful
+view, quite out of hearing distance. Effie was just stepping from the
+French window of the drawing-room into the conservatory to gather some
+of her pretty flowers for her visiters, as she heard Mr. Barclay say
+this. She turned with a stern, cold look, and regarded Kate Barclay
+quietly. Kate colored crimson, then grew deadly white, and trembled
+from head to foot; but her father did not notice it, as he had
+followed Col. Paulding and Mrs. Morris out on the lawn. There we three
+stood, Effie, cold and pale as a statue, and Kate looking quite like a
+criminal. She looked up, attempting to make some laughing remark, but
+the words died in her throat as she met Effie's stern, cold glance;
+she gasped, trembled, then rallied, and at last, with a proud look of
+defiance, she swept out on the lawn, and taking Col. Paulding's arm,
+proposed departure. She bade us good-bye most gracefully; but I saw
+that she avoided offering her hand to Effie. As the gate closed, she
+looked over her shoulder indifferently, and said, in a saucy, laughing
+tone,</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, pray make my adieux to Mr. Decker. I regret that I shall not see
+him to bid him good-bye. I depend upon the charity of you ladies to
+keep me fresh in his remembrance;" and, as far as we could see her
+down the road, we heard her forced laugh and unnaturally loud voice.</p>
+
+<p>Lucien came in a few minutes after they left, and Mrs. Morris
+delivered Kate's message. He looked agitated, and after swallowing his
+cup of tea hastily and quietly, he took up his hat and went out. He
+went to see Kate, but she, anticipating his visit, had retired with a
+violent headache immediately after her walk; but Lucien staid long
+enough to discover, as we had, Col. Paulding's relation to the
+fascinating coquette. This we learned long afterward. The next day
+Lucien left Stamford without saying more than cold words of good-bye.
+He did not go with Kate's party, we felt certain; and many weeks
+passed without hearing from him. Effie never made a remark; and our
+days passed quietly as they had before the appearance of Kate Barclay
+in our quiet little village. It was not long, however, before we saw
+in the newspapers, and read without comment, the marriage of Kate
+Barclay with Col. Paulding.</p>
+
+<p>"See this," said Mrs. Morris to me one morning as I entered the
+drawing-room, and she handed me a letter. We were alone, Effie was
+attending to her plants in the conservatory. I took the letter and
+read it. It was a wild, impassioned one from Lucien. Two months had
+elapsed since his silent departure, and this first letter was written
+to Mrs. Morris. It was filled with self-reproaches, and earnest
+entreaties for her intercession and mine with Effie. He cursed his
+infatuation, and the cause of it, and closed with the declaration that
+he would be reckless of life if Effie remained unforgiving. As I
+finished reading the letter I heard Effie's voice warbling in wild and
+plaintive notes in the conservatory,</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+"How should I your true love know,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">From another one,</span><br />
+By his cockle hat and staff,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And his sandal shoon?"</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>And the scene at the opening of this story rose before my
+remembrance&mdash;the playful argument&mdash;the declaration made by
+her that true, pure love could not have any affinity with
+pride&mdash;and I was lost in reverie.</p>
+
+<p>"What would you do, Enna?" inquired Mrs. Morris.</p>
+
+<p>"Give the letter to Effie without remark," I replied. "We cannot
+intercede for him&mdash;he does not deserve to be forgiven."</p>
+
+<p>The letter was given to Effie, who read it quietly; and if she evinced
+emotion, it was not before us. She said she was sorry for Lucien, for
+she had discovered a change in her own feelings. She did not love him
+as she fancied she had, and she could not in justice to herself
+fulfill their engagement&mdash;it was impossible. She wrote this to
+him, and all his wild letters were laid calmly and quietly aside. Can
+this be pride? I said to myself. But she seemed as though she
+suspected my thoughts, for the night before I returned to my city
+home, as we were leaning against the window-frame of our bed-room,
+listening the last time for that season to the tumbling, dashing
+water-music, she said,</p>
+
+<p>"Enna, dear, it was not spirit and pride that made me act so unkindly
+to Lucien&mdash;indeed, it was not. But I mistook my feelings for him
+from the first. I fancied I loved him dearly, when I only loved him as
+a sister. Believe me, if that love had existed once for him, his
+foolish infatuation for Kate Barclay would not have been regarded by
+me one moment."</p>
+
+<p>Two or three years passed, and Effie still remained unwedded, when, to
+our delight, Mr. Grayson, who had returned from Europe, again
+addressed her. She accepted him; and I was, indeed, happy when I
+officiated as bridesmaid for her. One year after that joyous wedding
+we stood over her bier, weeping bitter, bitter tears. We laid her in
+the grave&mdash;and the heart-broken mother soon rested beside her.
+Among her papers was a letter directed to me; it was written in
+<span class="pagenum">92</span>
+expectation of death, although we did not any of us anticipate such a
+calamity.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not long for this world, dear Enna," she wrote, "I feel I am
+dying daily; and yet, young as I am, it grieves me not, except when I
+think of the sorrow my death will occasion to others. When you read
+this I shall be enveloped in the heavy grave-clothes; but then I shall
+be at rest. Oh! how my aching, weary spirit pines for rest. Do not
+fancy that sorrow or disappointment has brought me to this. I fancied
+I loved Lucien Decker fondly, devotedly; and how happy was I when
+under the influence of that fancy. That fatal summer, at the time of
+his infatuation for that heartless girl, insensibly a chilling
+hardness crept over my feelings. I struggled against my awakening; and
+if Lucien had displayed any emotion before his departure, I might
+still have kept up the happy delusion. But in vain, it disappeared,
+and with it all the beauty of life, which increased in weariness from
+that moment. I sought for some object of interest&mdash;I married;
+but, though my husband has been devoted and kind, I weary of
+existence. Life has no interest for me. I hail the approach of death.
+Farewell."</p>
+
+<p>I read these sad lines with eyes blinded with tears; and I could not
+help thinking how Effie had deceived herself; unconsciously she had
+become a victim of the very pride she had condemned.</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="early" id="early">EARLY ENGLISH POETS.</a></h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY ELIZABETH J. EAMES.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<h4>I.&mdash;CHAUCER.</h4>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Yea! lovely are the hues still floating o'er<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy rural visions, bard of olden time,</span><br />
+The form of purest Poesy flits before<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My mental gaze, while bending o'er thy rhyme.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No lofty flight, bold, brilliant and sublime&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But tender beauty, and endearing grace,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And touching pathos in these lines I trace,</span><br />
+Oh! gentle poet of the northern clime.<br />
+And oft when dazzled by the gorgeous glow<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And gilded luxury of modern rhymes,</span><br />
+Grateful I turn to the clear, quiet flow<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of thy sweet thoughts, which fall like pleasant chimes</span><br />
+From the "pure wells of English undefiled."<br />
+Thou wert inspired, thou, Poetry's true child.<br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<h4>II.&mdash;SPENCER.</h4>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+What forms of grace and glory glided through<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The royal palace of thy lofty mind!</span><br />
+Rare shapes of beauty thy sweet fancy drew,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the brave knights, and peerless dames enshrined</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Within thy magic book, The Faerie Queene,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bright Gloriana robed in dazzling sheen&mdash;</span><br />
+Hapless Irene&mdash;angelic Una&mdash;and<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The noble Arthur all before me pass,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As summoned by the enchanter rod and glass.</span><br />
+And glorious still thy pure creations stand,<br />
+Leaving their golden footprints on the sand<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of Time indelible! All thanks to thee,</span><br />
+Oh! beauty-breathing bard of Poesy,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That thou hast charmed a weary hour for me.</span><br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<h4>III.&mdash;SHAKSPEARE.</h4>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Oh! minstrel monarch! the most glorious throne<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of Intellect thy Genius doth inherit.</span><br />
+Compeer, or perfect rival thou hast none&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O Soul of Song!&mdash;O mind of royal merit.</span><br />
+Is not this high, imperishable fame<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The tribute of a grateful world to thee?</span><br />
+A recognizing glory in thy name<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From a great nation to thy memory.</span><br />
+Lord of Dramatic Art&mdash;the splendid scenes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of thy rich fancy are around us still;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All shapes of Thought to make the bosom thrill</span><br />
+Are thine supreme! Many long years have sped,<br />
+And dimmed in dust the crowned and laureled head,<br />
+But thou&mdash;<i>thou</i> speakest still, though numbered with the dead.<br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="portrait" id="portrait">THE PORTRAIT.</a></h3>
+
+<h4>[WITH AN ENGRAVING.]</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY ROBT. T. CONRAD.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+And he hath spoken! Knew I not he would?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Though flitting fears, like clouds o'er lakes, would cast</span><br />
+Shadows o'er true love's trust. The tear-drop stood<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In his dark eye; he trembled. But 't is past,</span><br />
+And I am his, he mine. Why trembled he?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">This fond heart knew he not; and that his eye</span><br />
+Governed its tides, as doth the moon the sea;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And that with him, for him, 't were bliss to die?</span><br />
+Yet said I naught. Shame on me, that my cheek<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And eye my hoarded secret should betray!</span><br />
+Why wept I? And why was I sudden weak,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So weak his manly arm was stretched to stay?</span><br />
+How like a suppliant God he looked! His sweet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Low voice, heart-shaken, spoke&mdash;and all was known;</span><br />
+Yet, from the first, I felt our souls must meet,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like stars that rush together and shine on.</span><br />
+</div><br /><br /><br />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 387px;">
+<img src="images/illus114.png" width="387" height="600"
+alt="The Bridal Morning" title="" /></div>
+
+<h4>THE BRIDAL MORNING</h4>
+
+<h5>J. Hayter <span style="margin-left: 10em;">A. B. Ross</span></h5>
+
+<h5>Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine</h5>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="islets" id="islets">THE ISLETS OF THE GULF.</a></h3>
+
+<h4>OR, ROSE BUDD.</h4>
+<span class="pagenum">93</span>
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot2">
+Ay, now I am in Arden; the more fool<br />
+I; when I was at home I was in a better place; but<br />
+Travelers must be content. <span class="smcap">As You Like It.</span><br />
+</div><br />
+
+
+<h6>BY THE AUTHOR Of "PILOT," "RED ROVER," "TWO ADMIRALS," "WING-AND-WING," "MILES WALLINGFORD," ETC.</h6>
+
+<h6>[Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by J. Fenimore Cooper, in the Clerk's Office of the<br />
+District Court of the United States, for the Northern District of New York.]</h6>
+
+<h6><i>(Continued from page 48.)</i></h6>
+
+
+
+<h4>PART XV.</h4>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Man hath a weary pilgrimage<br />
+As through the world he wends;<br />
+On every stage, from youth to age,<br />
+Still discontent attends;<br />
+With heaviness he casts his eye<br />
+Upon the road before,<br />
+And still remembers with a sigh<br />
+The days that are no more. <span class="smcap">Southey</span>.<br />
+</div><br />
+
+
+<p>It has now become necessary to advance the time three entire days, and
+to change the scene to Key West. As this latter place may not be known
+to the world at large, it may be well to explain that it is a small
+seaport, situate on one of the largest of the many low islands that
+dot the Florida Reef, that has risen into notice, or indeed into
+existence as a town, since the acquisition of the Floridas by the
+American Republic. For many years it was the resort of few besides
+wreckers, and those who live by the business dependent on the rescuing
+and repairing of stranded vessels, not forgetting the salvages. When
+it is remembered that the greater portion of the vessels that enter
+the Gulf of Mexico stand close along this reef, before the trades, for
+a distance varying from one to two hundred miles, and that nearly
+every thing which quits it, is obliged to beat down its rocky coast in
+the Gulf Stream for the same distance, one is not to be surprised that
+the wrecks, which so constantly occur, can supply the wants of a
+considerable population. To live at Key West is the next thing to
+being at sea. The place has sea air, no other water than such as is
+preserved in cisterns, and no soil, or so little as to render even a
+head of lettuce a rarity. Turtle is abundant, and the business of
+"turtling" forms an occupation additional to that of wrecking. As
+might be expected in such circumstances, a potato is a far more
+precious thing than a turtle's egg, and a sack of the tubers would
+probably be deemed a sufficient remuneration for enough of the
+materials of callipash and callipee to feed all the aldermen extant.</p>
+
+<p>Of late years, the government of the United States has turned its
+attention to the capabilities of the Florida Reef, as an advanced
+naval station; a sort of Downs, or St. Helen's Roads, for the West
+Indian seas. As yet little has been done beyond making the preliminary
+surveys, but the day is not probably very distant when fleets will
+lie at anchor among the islets described in our earlier chapters, or
+garnish the fine waters of Key West. For a long time it was thought
+that even frigates would have a difficulty in entering and quitting
+the port of the latter, but it is said that recent explorations have
+discovered channels capable of admitting any thing that floats. Still
+Key West is a town yet in its chrysalis state, possessing the promise
+rather than the fruition of the prosperous days which are in reserve.
+It may be well to add, that it lies a very little north of the 24th
+degree of latitude, and in a longitude quite five degrees west from
+Washington. Until the recent conquests in Mexico it was the most
+southern possession of the American government, on the eastern side of
+the continent; Cape St. Lucas, at the extremity of Lower California,
+however, being two degrees farther south.</p>
+
+<p>It will give the foreign reader a more accurate notion of the
+character of Key West, if we mention a fact of quite recent
+occurrence. A very few weeks after the closing scenes of this tale,
+the town in question was, in a great measure, washed away! A hurricane
+brought in the sea upon all these islands and reefs, water running in
+swift currents over places that within the memory of man were never
+before submerged. The lower part of Key West was converted into a
+raging sea, and every thing in that quarter of the place disappeared.
+The foundation being of rock, however, when the ocean retired the
+island came into view again, and industry and enterprise set to work
+to repair the injuries.</p>
+
+<p>The government has established a small hospital for seamen at Key
+West. Into one of the rooms of the building thus appropriated our
+narrative must now conduct the reader. It contained but a single
+patient, and that was Spike. He was on his narrow bed, which was to be
+but the precursor of a still narrower tenement, the grave. In the room
+with the dying man were two females, in one of whom our readers will
+at once recognize the person of Rose Budd, dressed in deep mourning
+for her aunt. At first sight, it is probable that a casual spectator
+would mistake the second female for one of the ordinary nurses of the
+place. Her attire was well enough, though worn awkwardly, and as if
+<span class="pagenum">94</span>
+its owner were not exactly at ease in it. She had the air of one in
+her best attire, who was unaccustomed to be dressed above the most
+common mode. What added to the singularity of her appearance, was the
+fact, that while she wore no cap, her hair had been cut into short,
+gray bristles, instead of being long, and turned up, as is usual with
+females. To give a sort of climax to this uncouth appearance, this
+strange-looking creature chewed tobacco.</p>
+
+<p>The woman in question, equivocal as might be her exterior, was
+employed in one of the commonest avocations of her sex&mdash;that of
+sewing. She held in her hand a coarse garment, one of Spike's, in
+fact, which she seemed to be intently busy in mending; although the
+work was of a quality that invited the use of the palm and
+sail-needle, rather than that of the thimble and the smaller implement
+known to seamstresses, the woman appeared awkward in her business, as
+if her coarse-looking and dark hands refused to lend themselves to an
+occupation so feminine. Nevertheless, there were touches of a purely
+womanly character about this extraordinary person, and touches that
+particularly attracted the attention, and awakened the sympathy of the
+gentle Rose, her companion. Tears occasionally struggled out from
+beneath her eyelids, crossed her dark, sun-burnt cheek, and fell on
+the coarse canvas garment that lay in her lap. It was after one of
+these sudden and strong exhibitions of feeling that Rose approached
+her, laid her own little, fair hand, in a friendly way, though
+unheeded, on the other's shoulder, and spoke to her in her kindest and
+softest tones.</p>
+
+<p>"I do really think he is reviving, Jack," said Rose, "and that you may
+yet hope to have an intelligent conversation with him."</p>
+
+<p>"They all agree he <i>must</i> die," answered Jack Tier&mdash;for it was
+<i>he</i>, appearing in the garb of his proper sex, after a disguise that
+had now lasted fully twenty years&mdash;"and he will never know who I
+am, and that I forgive him. He must think of me in another world,
+though he isn't able to do it in this; but it would be a great relief
+to his soul to know that I forgive him."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure, a man must like to take a kind leave of his own wife
+before he closes his eyes forever; and I dare say it would be a great
+relief to you to tell him that you have forgotten his desertion of
+you, and all the hardships it has brought upon you in searching for
+him, and in earning your own livelihood as a common sailor."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not tell him I've <i>forgotten</i> it, Miss Rose; that would be
+untrue&mdash;and there shall be no more deception between us; but I
+shall tell him that I <i>forgive</i> him, as I hope God will one day
+forgive me all <i>my</i> sins."</p>
+
+<p>"It is, certainly, not a light offence to desert a wife in a foreign
+land, and then to seek to deceive another woman," quietly observed
+Rose.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a willian!" muttered the wife&mdash;"but&mdash;but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You forgive him, Jack&mdash;yes, I'm sure you do. You are too good a
+Christian to refuse to forgive him."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a woman a'ter all, Miss Rose; and that, I believe, is the truth
+of it. I suppose I ought to do as you say, for the reason you
+mention; but I'm his wife&mdash;and once he loved me, though that has
+long been over. When I first knew Stephen, I'd the sort of feelin's
+you speak of, and was a very different creatur' from what you see me
+to-day. Change comes over us all with years and sufferin'."</p>
+
+<p>Rose did not answer, but she stood looking intently at the speaker
+more than a minute. Change had, indeed, come over her, if she had ever
+possessed the power to please the fancy of any living man. Her
+features had always seemed diminitive and mean for her assumed sex, as
+her voice was small and cracked; but, making every allowance for the
+probabilities, Rose found it difficult to imagine that Jack Tier had
+ever possessed, even under the high advantages of youth and innocence,
+the attractions so common to her sex. Her skin had acquired the
+tanning of the sea; the expression of her face had become hard and
+worldly; and her habits contributed to render those natural
+consequences of exposure and toil even more than usually marked and
+decided. By saying "habits," however, we do not mean that Jack had
+ever drank to excess, as happens with so many seamen, for this would
+have been doing her injustice, but she smoked and
+chewed&mdash;practices that intoxicate in another form, and lead
+nearly as many to the grave as excess in drinking. Thus all the
+accessories about this singular being, partook of the character of her
+recent life and duties. Her walk was between a waddle and a seaman's
+roll; her hands were discolored with tar, and had got to be full of
+knuckles, and even her feet had degenerated into that flat, broad-toed
+form that, perhaps, sooner distinguishes caste, in connection with
+outward appearances, than any one other physical peculiarity. Yet this
+being <i>had</i> once been young&mdash;had once been even <i>fair</i>; and had
+once possessed that feminine air and lightness of form, that as often
+belongs to the youthful American of her sex, perhaps, as to the girl
+of any other nation on earth. Rose continued to gaze at her companion
+for some time, when she walked musingly to a window that looked out
+upon the port.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not certain whether it would do him good or not to see this
+sight," she said, addressing the wife kindly, doubtful of the effect
+of her words even on the latter. "But here are the sloop-of-war, and
+several other vessels."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, she is <i>there</i>; but never will his foot be put on board the Swash
+ag'in. When he bought that brig I was still young, and agreeable to
+him; and he gave her my maiden name, which was Mary, or Molly Swash.
+But that is all changed; I wonder he did not change the name with his
+change of feelin's."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you did really sail in the brig in former times, and knew the
+seaman whose name you assumed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Many years. Tier, with whose name I made free, on account of his
+size, and some resemblance to me in form, died under my care; and his
+protection fell into my hands, which first put the notion into my head
+of hailing as his representative. Yes, I knew Tier in the brig, and we
+<span class="pagenum">95</span>
+were left ashore at the same time&mdash;I, intentionally, I make no
+question; he, because Stephen Spike was in a hurry, and did not choose
+to wait for a man. The poor fellow caught the yellow fever the very
+next day, and did not live eight-and-forty hours. So the world goes;
+them that wish to live, die; and them that wants to die, live!"</p>
+
+<p>"You have had a hard time for one of your sex, poor Jack&mdash;quite
+twenty years a sailor, did you not tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every day of it, Miss Rose&mdash;and bitter years have they been; for
+the whole of that time have I been in chase of my husband, keeping my
+own secret, and slaving like a horse for a livelihood."</p>
+
+<p>"You could not have been old when he left&mdash;that is&mdash;when you
+parted."</p>
+
+<p>"Call it by its true name, and say at once, when he desarted me. I was
+under thirty by two or three years, and was still like my own sex to
+look at. All <i>that</i> is changed since; but I <i>was</i> comely <i>then</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Why</i> did Capt. Spike abandon you, Jack; you have never told me
+<i>that</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Because he fancied another. And ever since that time he has been
+fancying others, instead of remembering me. Had he got <i>you</i>, Miss
+Rose, I think he would have been content for the rest of his days."</p>
+
+<p>"Be certain, Jack, I should never have consented to marry Capt.
+Spike."</p>
+
+<p>"You're well out of his hands," answered Jack, sighing heavily, which
+was much the most feminine thing she had done during the whole
+conversation, "well out of his hands&mdash;and God be praised it is
+so. He should have died, before I would let him carry you off the
+island&mdash;husband or no husband."</p>
+
+<p>"It might have exceeded your power to prevent it under other
+circumstances, Jack."</p>
+
+<p>Rose now continued looking out of the window in silence. Her thoughts
+reverted to her aunt and Biddy, and tears rolled down her cheeks as
+she remembered the love of one, and the fidelity of the other. Their
+horrible fate had given her a shock that, at first, menaced her with a
+severe fit of illness; but her strong, good sense, and excellent
+constitution, both sustained by her piety and Harry's manly
+tenderness, had brought her through the danger, and left her, as the
+reader now sees her, struggling with her own griefs, in order to be of
+use to the still more unhappy woman who had so singularly become her
+friend and companion.</p>
+
+<p>The reader will readily have anticipated that Jack Tier had early made
+the females on board the Swash her confidents. Rose had known the
+outlines of her history from the first few days they were at sea
+together, which is the explanation of the visible intimacy that had
+caused Mulford so much surprise. Jack's motive in making his
+revelations might possibly have been tinctured with jealousy, but a
+desire to save one as young and innocent as Rose was at its bottom.
+Few persons but a wife would have supposed our heroine could have been
+in any danger from a lover like Spike; but Jack saw him with the eyes
+of her own youth, and of past recollections, rather than with those of
+truth. A movement of the wounded man first drew Rose from the window.
+Drying her eyes hastily, she turned toward him, fancying that she
+might prove the better nurse of the two, notwithstanding Jack's
+greater interest in the patient.</p>
+
+<p>"What place is this&mdash;and why am I here?" demanded Spike, with
+more strength of voice than could have been expected, after all that
+had passed. "This is not a cabin&mdash;not the Swash&mdash;it looks
+like a hospital."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a hospital, Capt. Spike," said Rose, gently drawing near the
+bed; "you have been hurt, and have been brought to Key West, and
+placed in the hospital. I hope you feel better, and that you suffer no
+pain."</p>
+
+<p>"My head isn't right&mdash;I don't know&mdash;every thing seems turned
+round with me&mdash;perhaps it will all come out as it should. I begin
+to remember&mdash;where is my brig?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is lost on the rocks. The seas have broken her into fragments."</p>
+
+<p>"That's melancholy news, at any rate. Ah! Miss Rose! God bless
+you&mdash;I've had terrible dreams. Well, it's pleasant to be among
+friends&mdash;what creature is that&mdash;where does <i>she</i> come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is Jack Tier," answered Rose, steadily. "She turns out to be a
+woman, and has put on her proper dress, in order to attend on you
+during your illness. Jack has never left your bedside since we have
+been here."</p>
+
+<p>A long silence succeeded this revelation. Jack's eyes twinkled, and
+she hitched her body half aside, as if to conceal her features, where
+emotions that were unusual were at work with the muscles. Rose thought
+it might be well to leave the man and wife alone&mdash;and she managed
+to get out of the room unobserved.</p>
+
+<p>Spike continued to gaze at the strange-looking female, who was now his
+sole companion. Gradually his recollection returned, and with it the
+full consciousness of his situation. He might not have been fully
+aware of the absolute certainty of his approaching death, but he must
+have known that his wound was of a very grave character, and that the
+result might early prove fatal. Still that strange and unknown figure
+haunted him; a figure that was so different from any he had ever seen
+before, and which, in spite of its present dress, seemed to belong
+quite as much to one sex as to the other. As for Jack&mdash;we call
+Molly, or Mary Swash by her masculine appellation, not only because it
+is more familiar, but because the other name seems really out of
+place, as applied to such a person&mdash;as for Jack, then, she sat
+with her face half averted, thumbing the canvas, and endeavoring to
+ply the needle, but perfectly mute. She was conscious that Spike's
+eyes were on her; and a lingering feeling of her sex told her how much
+time, exposure, and circumstances, had changed her person&mdash;and
+she would gladly have hidden the defects in her appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Swash was the daughter as well as the wife of a ship-master. In
+her youth, as has been said before, she had even been pretty, and down
+to the day when her husband deserted her, she would have been thought
+<span class="pagenum">96</span>
+a female of a comely appearance rather than the reverse. Her hair in
+particular, though slightly coarse, perhaps, had been rich and
+abundant; and the change from the long, dark, shining, flowing locks
+which she still possessed in her thirtieth year, to the short, gray
+bristles that now stood exposed without a cap, or covering of any
+sort, was one very likely to destroy all identity of appearance. Then
+Jack had passed from what might be called youth to the verge of old
+age, in the interval that she had been separated from her husband. Her
+shape had changed entirely; her complexion was utterly gone; and her
+features, always unmeaning, though feminine, and suitable to her sex,
+had become hard and slightly coarse. Still there was something of her
+former self about Jack that bewildered Spike; and his eyes continued
+fastened on her for quite a quarter of an hour in profound silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me some water," said the wounded man, "I wish some water to
+drink."</p>
+
+<p>Jack arose, filled a tumbler and brought it to the side of the bed.
+Spike took the glass and drank, but the whole time his eyes were
+riveted on his strange nurse. When his thirst was appeased, he
+asked&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you? How came you here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am your nurse. It is common to place nurses at the bedsides of the
+sick."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you man or woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is a question I hardly know how to answer. Sometimes I think
+myself each; sometimes neither."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I ever see you before?"</p>
+
+<p>"Often, and quite lately. I sailed with you in your last voyage."</p>
+
+<p>"You! That cannot be. If so, what is your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jack Tier."</p>
+
+<p>A long pause succeeded this announcement, which induced Spike to muse
+as intently as his condition would allow, though the truth did not yet
+flash on his understanding. At length the bewildered man again spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Are <i>you</i> Jack Tier?" he said slowly, like one who doubted.
+"Yes&mdash;I now see the resemblance, and it was <i>that</i> which puzzled
+me. Are they so rigid in this hospital that you have been obliged to
+put on woman's clothes in order to lend me a helping hand?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am dressed as you see, and for good reasons."</p>
+
+<p>"But Jack Tier run, like that rascal Mulford&mdash;ay, I remember now;
+you were in the boat when I over-hauled you all on the reef."</p>
+
+<p>"Very true; I was in the boat. But I never run, Stephen Spike. It was
+<i>you</i> who abandoned <i>me</i>, on the islet in the gulf, and that makes the
+second time in your life that you have left me ashore, when it was
+your duty to carry me to sea."</p>
+
+<p>"The first time I was in a hurry, and could not wait for you; this
+last time you took sides with the women. But for your interference, I
+should have got Rose, and married her, and all would now have been
+well with me."</p>
+
+<p>This was an awkward announcement for a man to make to his legal wife.
+But after all Jack had endured, and all Jack had seen during the late
+voyage, she was not to be overcome by this avowal. Her self-command
+extended so far as to prevent any open manifestation of emotion,
+however much her feelings were excited.</p>
+
+<p>"I took sides with the women, because I am a woman myself," she
+answered, speaking at length with decision, as if determined to bring
+matters to a head at once. "It is natural for us all to take sides
+with our kind."</p>
+
+<p>"You a woman, Jack! That is very remarkable. Since when have you
+hailed for a woman? You have shipped with me twice, and each time as a
+man&mdash;though I've never thought you able to do seaman's duty."</p>
+
+<p>"Nevertheless, I am what you see; a woman born and edicated; one that
+never had on man's dress until I knew you. <i>You</i> supposed me to be a
+man, when I came off to you in the skiff to the eastward of Riker's
+Island, but I was then what you now see."</p>
+
+<p>"I begin to understand matters," rejoined the invalid, musingly. "Ay,
+ay, it opens on me; and I now see how it was you made such fair
+weather with Madam Budd and pretty, pretty Rose. Rose <i>is</i> pretty,
+Jack; you <i>must</i> admit <i>that</i>, though you be a woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Rose <i>is</i> pretty&mdash;I do admit it; and what is better, Rose is
+<i>good</i>." It required a heavy draft on Jack's justice and magnanimity,
+however, to make this concession.</p>
+
+<p>"And you told Rose and Madam Budd about your sex; and that was the
+reason they took to you so on the v'y'ge?"</p>
+
+<p>"I told them who I was, and why I went abroad as a man. They know my
+whole story."</p>
+
+<p>"Did Rose approve of your sailing under false colors, Jack?"</p>
+
+<p>"You must ask that of Rose herself. My story made her my friend; but
+she never said any thing for or against my disguise."</p>
+
+<p>"It was no great disguise a'ter all, Jack. Now you're fitted out in
+your own clothes, you've a sort of half-rigged look; one would be as
+likely to set you down for a man under jury-canvas, as for a woman."</p>
+
+<p>Jack made no answer to this, but she sighed very heavily. As for Spike
+himself, he was silent for some little time, not only from exhaustion,
+but because he suffered pain from his wound. The needle was diligently
+but awkwardly plied in this pause.</p>
+
+<p>Spike's ideas were still a little confused; but a silence and rest of
+a quarter of an hour cleared them materially. At the end of that time
+he again asked for water. When he had drank, and Jack was once more
+seated, with his side-face toward him, at work with the needle, the
+captain gazed long and intently at this strange woman. It happened
+that the profile of Jack preserved more of the resemblance to her
+former self, than the full face; and it was this resemblance that now
+attracted Spike's attention, though not the smallest suspicion of the
+truth yet gleamed upon him. He saw something that was familiar, though
+he could not even tell what that something was, much less to what or
+whom it bore any resemblance. At length he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I was told that Jack Tier was dead," he said; "that he took the
+<span class="pagenum">97</span>
+fever, and was in his grave within eight-and-forty hours after we
+sailed. That was what they told me of <i>him</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"And what did they tell you of your own wife, Stephen Spike. She that
+you left ashore at the time Jack was left?"</p>
+
+<p>"They said she did not die for three years later. I heard of her death
+at New Or<i>leens</i>, three years later."</p>
+
+<p>"And how could you leave her ashore&mdash;she, your true and lawful
+wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was a bad thing," answered Spike, who, like all other mortals,
+regarded his own past career, now that he stood on the edge of the
+grave, very differently from what he had regarded it in the hour of
+his health and strength. "Yes, it <i>was</i> a very bad thing; and I wish
+it was ondone. But it is too late now. She died of the fever,
+too&mdash;that's some comfort; had she died of a broken-heart, I could
+not have forgiven myself. Molly was not without her faults&mdash;great
+faults, I considered them; but, on the whole, Molly was a good
+creatur'."</p>
+
+<p>"You liked her, then, Stephen Spike?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can truly say that when I married Molly, and old Capt. Swash put
+his da'ghter's hand into mine, that the woman wasn't living who was
+better in my judgment, or handsomer in my eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay&mdash;when you <i>married</i> her; but how was it a'terwards. When
+you was tired of her, and saw another that was fairer in your eyes?"</p>
+
+<p>"I desarted her; and God has punished me for the sin! Do you know,
+Jack, that luck has never been with me since that day. Often and often
+have I bethought me of it; and sartain as you sit there, no great luck
+has ever been with me, or my craft, since I went off, leaving my wife
+ashore. What was made in one v'y'ge, was lost in the next. Up and
+down, up and down the whole time, for so many, many long years, that
+gray hairs set in, and old age was beginning to get close
+aboard&mdash;and I as poor as ever. It has been rub and go with me
+ever since; and I have had as much as I could do to keep the brig in
+motion, as the only means that was left to make the two ends meet."</p>
+
+<p>"And did not all this make you think of your poor wife&mdash;she whom
+you had so wronged?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of little else, until I heard of her death at New
+Or<i>leens</i>&mdash;and then I gave it up as useless. Could I have fallen
+in with Molly at any time a'ter the first six months of my desartion,
+she and I would have come together again, and every thing would have
+been forgotten. I knowed her very nature, which was all forgiveness to
+me at the bottom, though seemingly so spiteful and hard."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet you wanted to have this Rose Budd, who is only too young, and
+handsome, and good for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I was tired of being a widower, Jack; and Rose <i>is</i> wonderful pretty.
+She has money, too, and might make the evening of my days comfortable.
+The brig was old, as you must know, and has long been off of all the
+Insurance Offices' books; and she couldn't hold together much longer.
+But for this sloop-of-war, I should have put her off on the Mexicans;
+and they would have lost her to our people in a month."</p>
+
+<p>"And was it an honest thing to sell an old and worn-out craft to any
+one, Stephen Spike?"</p>
+
+<p>Spike had a conscience that had become hard as iron by means of trade.
+He who traffics much, most especially if his dealings be on so small a
+scale as to render constant investigations of the minor qualities of
+things necessary, must be a very fortunate man, if he preserve his
+conscience in any better condition. When Jack made this allusion,
+therefore, the dying man&mdash;for death was much nearer to Spike than
+even he supposed, though he no longer hoped for his own
+recovery&mdash;when Jack made this allusion, then, the dying man was a
+good deal at a loss to comprehend it. He saw no particular harm in
+making the best bargain he could; nor was it easy for him to
+understand why he might not dispose of any thing he possessed for the
+highest price that was to be had. Still he answered in an apologetic
+sort of way.</p>
+
+<p>"The brig was old, I acknowledge," he said, "but she was strong, and
+<i>might</i> have run a long time. I only spoke of her capture as a thing
+likely to take place soon, if the Mexicans got her; so that her
+qualities were of no great account, unless it might be her
+speed&mdash;and that you know was excellent, Jack."</p>
+
+<p>"And you regret that brig, Stephen Spike, lying as you do on your
+death-bed, more than any thing else."</p>
+
+<p>"Not as much as I do pretty Rose Budd, Jack; Rosy is so delightful to
+look at!"</p>
+
+<p>The muscles of Jack's face twitched a little, and she looked deeply
+mortified; for, to own the truth, she hoped that the conversation had
+so far turned her delinquent husband's thoughts to the past, as to
+have revived in him some of his former interest in herself. It is
+true, he still believed her dead; but this was a circumstance Jack
+overlooked&mdash;so hard is it to hear the praises of a rival, and be
+just. She felt the necessity of being more explicit, and determined at
+once to come to the point.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen Spike," she said, steadily, drawing near to the bedside,
+"you should be told the truth, when you are heard thus extolling the
+good looks of Rose Budd, with less than eight-and-forty hours of life
+remaining. Mary Swash did not die, as you have supposed, three years
+a'ter you desarted her, but is living at this moment. Had you read the
+letter I gave you in the boat, just before you made me jump into the
+sea, <i>that</i> would have told you where she is to be found."</p>
+
+<p>Spike stared at the speaker intently; and when her cracked voice
+ceased, his look was that of a man who was terrified as well as
+bewildered. This did not arise still from any gleamings of the real
+state of the case, but from the soreness with which his conscience
+pricked him, when he heard that his much-wronged wife was alive. He
+fancied, with a vivid and rapid glance at the probabilities, all that
+a woman abandoned would be likely to endure in the course of so many
+long and suffering years.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure of what you say, Jack? You wouldn't take advantage of my
+situation to tell me an untruth?"</p>
+
+<p>"As certain of it as of my own existence. I have seen her quite
+<span class="pagenum">98</span>
+lately&mdash;talked with her of <i>you</i>&mdash;in short, she is now at
+Key West, knows your state, and has a wife's feelin's to come to your
+bedside."</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding all this, and the many gleamings he had had of the
+facts during their late intercourse on board the brig, Spike did not
+guess at the truth. He appeared astounded, and his terror seemed to
+increase.</p>
+
+<p>"I have another thing to tell you," continued Jack, pausing but a
+moment to collect her own thoughts. "Jack Tier&mdash;the real Jack
+Tier&mdash;he who sailed with you of old, and whom you left ashore at
+the same time you desarted your wife, <i>did</i> die of the fever, as you
+was told, in eight-and-forty hours a'ter the brig went to sea."</p>
+
+<p>"Then who, in the name of Heaven, are you? How came you to hail by
+another's name as well as by another sex?"</p>
+
+<p>"What could a woman do, whose husband had desarted her in a strange
+land?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is remarkable! So <i>you</i>'ve been married? I should not have
+thought <i>that</i> possible; and your husband desarted you, too. Well,
+such things <i>do</i> happen." Jack now felt a severe pang. She could not
+but see that her ungainly&mdash;we had almost said her unearthly
+appearance&mdash;prevented the captain from even yet suspecting the
+truth; and the meaning of his language was not easily to be mistaken.
+That any one should have married <i>her</i>, seemed to her husband as
+improbable as it was probable he would run away from her as soon as it
+was in his power after the ceremony.</p>
+
+<p>"Stephen Spike," resumed Jack, solemnly, "<i>I</i> am Mary Swash&mdash;<i>I</i>
+am your wife!"</p>
+
+<p>Spike started in his bed; then he buried his face in the
+coverlet&mdash;and he actually groaned. In bitterness of spirit the
+woman turned away and wept. Her feelings had been blunted by
+misfortune and the collisions of a selfish world; but enough of former
+self remained to make this the hardest of all the blows she had ever
+received. Her husband, dying as he was, as he must and did know
+himself to be, shrunk from one of her appearance, unsexed as she had
+become by habits, and changed by years and suffering.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>To be continued</i>.]</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+<h3><a name="hour" id="hour">AN HOUR.</a></h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+I've left the keen, cold winds to blow<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Around the summits bare;</span><br />
+My sunny pathway to the sea<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Winds downward, green and fair,</span><br />
+And bright-leaved branches toss and glow<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Upon the buoyant air!</span><br />
+<br />
+The fern its fragrant plumage droops<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O'er mosses, crisp and gray,</span><br />
+Where on the shaded crags I sit,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Beside the cataract's spray,</span><br />
+And watch the far-off, shining sails<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Go down the sunny bay!</span><br />
+<br />
+I've left the wintry winds of life<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On barren hearts to blow&mdash;</span><br />
+The anguish and the gnawing care,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The silent, shuddering wo!</span><br />
+Across the balmy sea of dreams<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My spirit-barque shall go.</span><br />
+<br />
+Learned not the breeze its fairy lore<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where sweetest measures throng?</span><br />
+A maiden sings, beside the stream,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Some chorus, wild and long,</span><br />
+Mingling and blending with its roar,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like rainbows turned to song!</span><br />
+<br />
+I hear it, like a strain that sweeps<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The confines of a dream;</span><br />
+Now fading into silent space,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Now with a flashing gleam</span><br />
+Of triumph, ringing through the deeps<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of forest, dell and stream!</span><br />
+<br />
+Away! away! I hear the horn<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Among the hills of Spain:</span><br />
+The old, chivalric glory fires<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her warrior-hearts again!</span><br />
+Ho! how their banners light the morn,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Along Grenada's plain!</span><br />
+<br />
+I hear the hymns of holy faith<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The red Crusaders sang,</span><br />
+And the silver horn of Ron&ccedil;eval,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That o'er the tecbir rang</span><br />
+When prince and kaiser through the fray<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To the paladin's rescue sprang!</span><br />
+<br />
+A beam of burning light I hold!&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My good Damascus brand,</span><br />
+And the jet-black charger that I ride<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Was foaled in the Arab land,</span><br />
+And a hundred horsemen, mailed in steel,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Follow my bold command!</span><br />
+<br />
+Through royal cities speeds our march&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The minster-bells are rung;</span><br />
+The loud, rejoicing trumpets peal,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The battle-flags are swung,</span><br />
+And sweet, sweet lips of ladies praise<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The chieftain, brave and young.</span><br />
+<br />
+And now, in bright Proven&ccedil;al bowers,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A minstrel-knight am I:</span><br />
+A gentle bosom on my own<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Throbs back its ecstasy;</span><br />
+A cheek, as fair as the almond flowers,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thrills to my lips' reply!</span><br />
+<br />
+I tread the fanes of wondrous Rome,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Crowned with immortal bay,</span><br />
+And myriads throng the Capitol<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To hear my lofty lay,</span><br />
+While, sounding o'er the Tiber's foam,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Their shoutings peal away!</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh, triumph such as this were worth<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The poet's doom of pain,</span><br />
+Whose hours are brazen on the earth,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But golden in the brain:</span><br />
+I close the starry gate of dreams,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And walk the dust again!</span><br />
+</div><br />
+
+
+<h3><a name="power" id="power">POWER OF BEAUTY,</a></h3>
+<h4>AND A PLAIN MAN'S LOVE.</h4>
+<span class="pagenum">99</span>
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY N. P. WILLIS.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<p>That the truths arrived at by the unaccredited short road of
+"magnetism" had better be stripped of their technical phraseology, and
+set down as the gradual discoveries of science and experience, is a
+policy upon which acts many a sagacious believer in "clairvoyance."
+Doubtless, too, there is, here and there, a wise man, who is glad
+enough to pierce, with the eyes of an incredible agent, the secrets
+about him, and let the world give him credit, by whatever name they
+please, for the superior knowledge of which he silently takes
+advantage. I should be behind the time, if I had not sounded to the
+utmost of my ability and opportunity the depth of this new medium. I
+have tried it on grave things and trifles. If the unveiling which I am
+about to record were of more use to myself than to others, perhaps I
+should adopt the policy of which I have just spoken, and give the
+result, simply as my own shrewd lesson learned in reading the female
+heart. But the truths I unfold will instruct the few who need and can
+appreciate them, while the whole subject is not of general importance
+enough to bring down cavilers upon the credibility of their source. I
+thus get rid of a very detestable though sometimes necessary evil,
+("<i>qui nescit dissimulare nescit vivere</i>," says the Latin sage,) that
+of shining by any light that is not absolutely my own.</p>
+
+<p>I am a very plain man in my personal appearance&mdash;<i>so</i> plain that
+a common observer, if informed that there was a woman who had a fancy
+for my peculiar type, would wonder that I was not thankfully put to
+rest for life as a seeker after love&mdash;a second miracle of the
+kind being a very slender probability. It is not in beauty that the
+taste for beauty alone resides, however. In early youth my soul, like
+the mirror of Cydippe, retained, with enamored fidelity, the image of
+female loveliness copied in the clear truth of its appreciation, and
+the passion for it had become, insensibly, the thirst of my life,
+before I thought of it as more than an intoxicating study. To be
+loved&mdash;myself beloved&mdash;by a creature made in one of the
+diviner moulds of woman, was, however, a dream that shaped itself into
+waking distinctness at last, and from that hour I took up the clogging
+weight of personal disadvantages, to which I had hitherto
+unconsciously been chained, and bore it heavily in the race which the
+well-favored ran as eagerly as I.</p>
+
+<p>I am not to recount, here, the varied experiences of my search, the
+world over, after beauty and its smile. It is a search on which all
+travelers are more than half bent, let them name as they please their
+professed errand in far countries. The coldest scholar in art will
+better remember a living face of a new cast of expression, met in the
+gallery of Florence, than the best work of Michael Angelo, whose
+genius he has crossed an ocean to study; and a fair shoulder crowded
+against the musical pilgrim, in the Capella Sistiera, will be taken
+surer into his soul's inner memory than the best outdoing of "the
+sky-lark taken up into heaven," by the ravishing reach of the
+<i>Miserere</i>. Is it not true?</p>
+
+<p>There can hardly be now, I think, a style of female beauty of which I
+have not appreciated the meaning and comparative enchantment, nor a
+degree of that sometimes more effective thing than beauty
+itself&mdash;its expression breathing through features otherwise
+unlovely&mdash;that I have not approached near enough to weigh and
+store truthfully in remembrance. The taste forever refines in the
+study of woman. We return to what, with immature eye, we at first
+rejected; we intensify, immeasurably, our worship of the few who wear
+on their foreheads the star of supreme loveliness, confessed pure and
+perfect by all beholders alike; we detect it under surfaces which
+become transparent only with tenderness or enthusiasm; we separate the
+work of Nature's material chisel from the resistless and warm
+expansion of the soul swelling its proportions to fill out the shape
+it is to tenant hereafter. Led by the purest study of true beauty, the
+eager mind passes on from the shrine where it lingered to the next of
+whose greater brightness it becomes aware; and this is the secret of
+one kind of "inconstancy in love," which should be named apart from
+the variableness of those seekers of novelty, who, from unconscious
+self-contempt, value nothing they have had the power to win.</p>
+
+<p>An unsuspected student of beauty, I passed years of loiterings in the
+living galleries of Europe and Asia, and, like self-punishing misers
+in all kinds of amassings, stored up boundlessly more than, with the
+best trained senses, I could have found the life to enjoy. Of course I
+had a first advantage, of dangerous facility, in my unhappy plainness
+of person&mdash;the alarm-guard that surrounds every beautiful woman
+in every country of the world&mdash;letting sleep at <i>my</i> approach the
+cautionary reserve which presents bayonet so promptly to the
+good-looking. Even with my worship avowed, and the manifestation of
+grateful regard which a woman of fine quality always returns for
+elevated and unexacting admiration I was still left with such
+privilege of access as is granted to the family-gossip, or to an
+<span class="pagenum">100</span>innocuous uncle, and it is of such a passion, rashly nurtured under
+this protection of an improbability, that I propose to tell the
+<i>inner</i> story.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<h4>PART II.</h4>
+
+
+<p>I was at the Baths of Lucca during a season made gay by the presence
+of a large proportion of the agreeable and accessible court of
+Tuscany. The material for my untiring study was in abundance, yet it
+was all of the worldly character which the attractions of the place
+would naturally draw together, and my homage had but a choice between
+differences of display, in the one pursuit of admiration. In my walks
+through the romantic mountain-paths of the neighborhood, and along the
+banks of the deep-down river that threads the ravine above the
+village, I had often met, meantime, a lady accompanied by a well-bred
+and scholar-like looking man; and though she invariably dropped her
+veil at my approach, her admirable movement, as she walked, or stooped
+to pick a flower, betrayed that conscious possession of beauty and
+habitual confidence in her own grace and elegance, which assured me of
+attractions worth taking trouble to know. By one of those "unavoidable
+accidents" which any respectable guardian angel will contrive, to
+oblige one, I was a visiter to the gentleman and lady&mdash;father and
+daughter&mdash;soon after my curiosity had framed the desire; and in
+her I found a marvel of beauty, from which I looked in vain for my
+usual escape&mdash;that of placing the ladder of my heart against a
+loftier and fairer.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wangrave was one of those English gentlemen who would not exchange
+the name of an ancient and immemorially wealthy family for any title
+that their country could give them, and he used this shield of modest
+honor simply to protect himself in the enjoyment of habits, freed, as
+far as refinement and culture could do it, from the burthens and
+intrusions of life above and below him. He was ceaselessly educating
+himself&mdash;like a man whose whole life was only too brief an
+apprenticeship to a higher existence&mdash;and, with an invalid but
+intellectual and lovely wife, and a daughter who seemed unconscious
+that she could love, and who kept gay pace with her youthful-hearted
+father in his lighter branches of knowledge, his family sufficed to
+itself, and had determined so to continue while abroad. The society of
+no Continental watering-place has a very good name, and they were
+there for climate and seclusion. With two ladies, who seemed to occupy
+the places and estimation of friends, (but who were probably the paid
+nurse and companion to the invalid,) and a kind-hearted old secretary
+to Mr. Wangrave, whose duties consisted in being as happy as he could
+possibly be, their circle was large enough, and it contained elements
+enough&mdash;except only, perhaps, the <i>r&eacute;veille</i> that was wanting for
+the apparently slumbering heart of Stephania.</p>
+
+<p>A month after my first call upon the Wangraves, I joined them on their
+journey to Vallambrosa, where they proposed to take refuge from the
+sultry coming of the Italian autumn. My happiness would not have been
+arranged after the manner of this world's happiness, if I had been the
+only addition to their party up the mountain. They had received with
+open arms, a few days before leaving Lucca, a young man from the
+neighborhood of their own home, and who, I saw with half a glance, was
+the very Eidolon and type of what Mr. Wangrave would desire as a
+fitting match for his daughter. From the allusions to him that had
+preceded his coming, I had learned that he was the heir to a brilliant
+fortune, and was coming to his old friends to be congratulated on his
+appointment to a captaincy in the Queen's Guards&mdash;as pretty a
+case of an "irresistible" as could well have been compounded for
+expectation. And when he came&mdash;the absolute model of a youth of
+noble beauty&mdash;all frankness, good manners, joyousness, and
+confidence, I summoned courage to look alternately at Stephania and
+him, and the hope, the daring hope that I had never yet named to
+myself, but which was already master of my heart, and its every pulse
+and capability, dropped prostrate and lifeless in my bosom. If he did
+but offer her the life-minute of love, of which I would give her, it
+seemed to me, for the same price, an eternity of countless
+existences&mdash;if he should but give her a careless word, where I
+could wring a passionate utterance out of the aching blood of my very
+heart&mdash;she must needs be his. She would be a star else that would
+resign an orbit in the fair sky, to illumine a dim cave; a flower that
+would rather bloom on a bleak moor, than in the garden of a
+king&mdash;for, with such crushing comparisons, did I irresistibly see
+myself as I remembered my own shape and features, and my far humbler
+fortunes than his, standing in her presence beside him.</p>
+
+<p>Oh! how every thing contributed to enhance the beauty of that young
+man. How the mellow and harmonizing tenderness of the light of the
+Italian sky gave sentiment to his oval cheek, depth to his gray-blue
+eye, meaning to their overfolding and thick-fringed lashes. Whatever
+he said with his finely-cut lips, was <i>looked</i> into twenty times its
+meaning by the beauty of their motion in that languid
+atmosphere&mdash;an atmosphere that seemed only breathed for his
+embellishment and Stephania's. Every posture he took seemed a happy
+and rare accident, which a painter should have been there to see. The
+sunsets, the moonlight, the chance back-ground and fore-ground, of
+vines and rocks&mdash;every thing seemed in conspiracy to heighten his
+effect, and make of him a faultless picture of a lover.</p>
+
+<p>"Every thing," did I say? Yes, <i>even myself</i>&mdash;for my uncomely
+face and form were such a foil to his beauty as a skillful artist
+would have introduced to heighten it when all other art was exhausted,
+and every one saw it except Stephania; and little they knew how, with
+perceptions far quicker than theirs, I <i>felt</i> their recognition of
+this, in the degree of softer kindness in which they unconsciously
+spoke to me. They pitied me, and without recognizing their own
+thought&mdash;for it was a striking instance of the difference in the
+<span class="pagenum">101</span>
+gifts of nature&mdash;one man looking scarce possible to love, and
+beside him, another, of the same age, to whose mere first-seen beauty,
+without a word from his lips, any heart would seem unnatural not to
+leap in passionate surrender.</p>
+
+<p>We were the best of sudden friends, Palgray and I. He, like the rest,
+walked only the outer vestibule of the sympathies, viewlessly
+deepening and extending, hour by hour, in that frank and joyous
+circle. The interlinkings of soul, which need no language, and which
+go on, whether we will or no, while we talk with friends, are so
+strangely unthought of by the careless and happy. He saw in me no
+counter-worker to his influence. I was to him but a well-bred and
+extremely plain man, who tranquilly submitted to forego all the first
+prizes of life, content if I could contribute to society in its
+unexcited voids, and receive in return only the freedom of its outer
+intercourse, and its friendly esteem. But, oh! it was not in the same
+world that he and I knew Stephania. He approached her from the world
+in whose most valued excellences, beauty and wealth, he was
+pre-eminently gifted&mdash;I, from the viewless world, in which I had
+at least more skill and knowledge. In the month that I had known her
+before he came, I had sedulously addressed myself to a character
+within her, of which Palgray had not even a conjecture; and there was
+but one danger of his encroachment on the ground I had
+gained&mdash;her imagination might supply in him the nobler temple of
+soul-worship, which was still unbuilt, and which would never be
+builded except by pangs such as he was little likely to feel in the
+undeepening channel of happiness. He did not notice that <i>I</i> never
+spoke to her in the same key of voice to which the conversation of
+others was attuned. He saw not that, while she turned to <i>him</i> with a
+smile as a preparation to listen, she heard <i>my</i> voice as if her
+attention had been arrested by distant music&mdash;with no change in
+her features except a look more earnest. She would have called <i>him</i>
+to look with her at a glowing sunset, or to point out a new comer in
+the road from the village; but if the moon had gone suddenly into a
+cloud and saddened the face of the landscape, or if the wind had
+sounded mournfully through the trees, as she looked out upon the
+night, she would have spoken of that first to <i>me</i>.</p>
+
+<h4>PART III.</h4>
+
+
+<p>I am flying over the track, of what was to me a
+torrent&mdash;outlining its course by alighting upon, here and there,
+a point where it turned or lingered.</p>
+
+<p>The reader has been to Vallambrosa&mdash;if not once as a pilgrim, at
+least often with writers of travels in Italy. The usages of the
+convent are familiar to all memories&mdash;their lodging of the
+gentlemen of a party in cells of their own monastic privilege, and
+giving to the ladies less sacred hospitalities, in a secular building
+of meaner and unconsecrated architecture. (So, oh, mortifying
+brotherhood, you shut off your only chance of entertaining angels
+unaware!)</p>
+
+<p>Not permitted to eat with the ladies while on the holy mountain, Mr.
+Wangrave and his secretary, and Palgray and I, fed at the table with
+the aristocratic monks&mdash;(for they are the aristocrats of European
+holiness, these monks of Vallambrosa.) It was somewhat a relief to me,
+to be separated with my rival from the party in the feminine
+refectory, even for the short space of a meal-time; for the all-day
+suffering of presence with an unconscious trampler on my
+heart-strings; and in circumstances where all the triumphs were his
+own, were more than my intangible hold upon hope could well enable me
+to bear. I was happiest, therefore, when I was out of the presence of
+her to be near whom was all for which my life was worth having; and
+when we sat down at the long and bare table, with the thoughtful and
+ashen-cowled company, sad as I was, it was an opiate sadness&mdash;a
+suspension from self-mastery, under torture which others took to be
+pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>The temperature of the mountain-air was just such as to invite us to
+never enter doors except to eat and sleep; and breakfasting at
+convent-hours, we passed the long day in rambling up the ravines and
+through the sombre forests, drawing, botanizing, and conversing in
+group around some spot of exquisite natural beauty; and all of the
+party, myself excepted, supposing it to be the un-dissenting, common
+desire to contrive opportunity for the love-making of Palgray and
+Stephania. And, bitter though it was, in each particular instance, to
+accept a hint from one and another, and stroll off, leaving the
+confessed lovers alone by some musical water-fall, or in the secluded
+and twilight dimness of some curve in an overhanging
+ravine&mdash;places where only to breathe is to love&mdash;I still
+felt an instinctive prompting to rather anticipate than wait for these
+reminders, she alone knowing what it cost me to be without her in that
+delicious wilderness; and Palgray, as well as I could judge, having a
+mind out of harmony with both the wilderness and her.</p>
+
+<p>He loved her&mdash;loved her as well as most women need to be, or know
+that they can be loved. But he was too happy, too prosperous, too
+universally beloved, to love well. He was a man, with all his beauty,
+more likely to be fascinating to his own sex than to hers, for the
+women who love best, do not love in the character they live in; and
+his out-of-doors heart, whose joyfulness was so contagious, and whose
+bold impulses were so manly and open, contented itself with gay
+homage, and left unplummeted the sweetest as well as deepest wells of
+the thoughtful tenderness of woman.</p>
+
+<p>To most observers, Stephania Wangrave would have seemed only born to
+be gay&mdash;the mere habit of being happy having made its life-long
+imprint upon her expression of countenance, and all of her nature,
+that would be legible to a superficial reader, being brought out by
+the warm translucence of her smiles. But while I had seen this, in the
+first hour of my study of her, I was too advanced in my knowledge (of
+such works of nature as encroach on the models of Heaven) not to know
+this to be a light veil over a picture of melancholy meaning. Sadness
+was the tone of her mind's inner coloring. Tears were the
+<span class="pagenum">102</span>subterranean river upon which her soul's bark floated with the most
+loved freight of her thought's accumulation&mdash;the sunny waters of
+joy, where alone she was thought to voyage, being the tide on which
+her heart embarked no venture, and which seemed to her triflingly
+garish and even profaning to the hallowed delicacy of the inner
+nature.</p>
+
+<p>It was so strange to me that Palgray did not see this through every
+lineament of her marvelous beauty. There was a glow under her skin,
+but no color&mdash;an effect of paleness&mdash;fair as the lotus-leaf,
+but warmer and brighter, and which came through the alabaster fineness
+of the grain, like something the eye cannot define, but which we know
+by some spirit-perception to be the effluence of purer existence, the
+breathing through, as it were, of the luminous tenanting of an angel.
+To this glowing paleness, with golden hair, I never had seen united
+any but a disposition of predominant melancholy; and it seemed to me
+dull indeed otherwise to read it. But there were other betrayals of
+the same inner nature of Stephania. Her lips, cut with the fine
+tracery of the penciling upon a tulip-cup, were of a slender and
+delicate fullness, expressive of a mind which took&mdash;(of the
+senses)&mdash;only so much life as would hold down the spirit during
+its probation; and when this spiritual mouth was at rest, no painter
+has ever drawn lips on which lay more of the unutterable pensiveness
+of beauty which we dream to have been Mary's, in the childhood of
+Jesus. A tear in the heart was the instinctive answer to Stephania's
+every look when she did not smile; and her large, soft, slowly-lifting
+eyes, were to any elevated perception, it seemed to me, most eloquent
+of tenderness as tearful as it was unfathomable and angelic.</p>
+
+<p>I shall have failed, however, in portraying truly the being of whom I
+am thus privileged to hold the likeness in my memory, if the reader
+fancies her to have nurtured her pensive disposition at the expense of
+a just value for real life, or a full development of womanly feelings.
+It was a peculiarity of her beauty, to my eye, that, with all her
+earnest leaning toward a thoughtful existence, there did not seem to
+be one vein beneath her pearly skin, not one wavy line in her
+faultless person, that did not lend its proportionate consciousness to
+her breathing sense of life. Her bust was of the slightest fullness
+which the sculptor would choose for the embodying of his ideal of the
+best blending of modesty with complete beauty; and her throat and
+arms&mdash;oh, with what an inexpressible pathos of loveliness, so to
+speak, was moulded, under an infantine dewiness of surface, their
+delicate undulations. No one could be in her presence without
+acknowledging the perfection of her form as a woman, and rendering the
+passionate yet subdued homage which the purest beauty fulfills its
+human errand by inspiring; but, while Palgray made the halo which
+surrounded her outward beauty the whole orbit of his appreciation, and
+made of it, too, the measure of the circle of topics he chose to talk
+upon, there was still another and far wider ring of light about her,
+which he lived in too dazzling a gayety of his own to see&mdash;a
+halo of a mind more beautiful than the body which shut it in; and in
+this intellectual orbit of guidance to interchange of mind, with
+manifold deeper and higher reach than Palgray's, upon whatever topic
+chanced to occur, revolved I, around her who was the loveliest and
+most gifted of all the human beings I had been privileged to meet.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<h4>PART IV.</h4>
+
+
+<p>The month was expiring at Vallambrosa, but I had not mingled, for that
+length of time, with a fraternity of thoughtful men, without
+recognition of some of that working of spontaneous and elective
+magnetism to which I have alluded in a previous part of this story.
+Opposite me, at the table of the convent refectory, had sat a taciturn
+monk, whose influence I felt from the first day&mdash;a stronger
+consciousness of his presence, that is to say, than of any one of the
+other monks&mdash;though he did not seem particularly to observe me,
+and till recently had scarce spoken to me at all. He was a man of
+perhaps fifty years of age, with the countenance of one who had
+suffered and gained a victory of contemplation&mdash;a look as if no
+suffering could be new to him, and before whom no riddle of human
+vicissitudes could stay unread; but over all this penetration and
+sagacity was diffused a cast of genial philanthropy and
+good-fellowship which told of his forgiveness of the world for what he
+had suffered in it. With a curiosity more at leisure, I should have
+sought him out, and joined him in his walks to know more of him; but
+spiritually acquainted though I felt we had become, I was far too busy
+with head and heart for any intercourse, except it had a bearing on
+the struggle for love that I was, to all appearance, so hopelessly
+making.</p>
+
+<p>Preparations were beginning for departure, and with the morrow, or the
+day after, I was to take my way to Venice&mdash;my friends bound to
+Switzerland and England, and propriety not permitting me to seek
+another move in their company. The evening on which this was made
+clear to me, was one of those continuations of day into night made by
+the brightness of a full Italian moon; and Palgray, whose face,
+troubled, for the first time, betrayed to me that he was at a crisis
+of his fate with Stephania, evidently looked forward to this glowing
+night as the favorable atmosphere in which he might urge his suit,
+with nature pleading in his behalf. The reluctance and evident
+irresolution of his daughter puzzled Mr. Wangrave&mdash;for he had no
+doubt that she loved Palgray, and his education of her head and heart
+gave him no clue to any principle of coquettishness, or willingness to
+give pain, for the pleasure of an exercise of power. Her mother, and
+all the members of the party, were aware of the mystery that hung over
+the suit of the young guardsman, but they were all alike discreet,
+while distressed, and confined their interference to the removal of
+obstacles in the way of the lovers being together, and the avoidance
+of any topics gay enough to change the key of her spirits from the
+<span class="pagenum">103</span>natural softness of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>Vespers were over, and the sad-colored figures of the monks were
+gliding indolently here and there, and Stephania, with Palgray beside
+her, stood a little apart from the group at the door of the secular
+refectory, looking off at the fading purple of the sunset. I could not
+join her without crossing rudely the obvious wishes of every person
+present; yet for the last two days, I had scarce found the opportunity
+to exchange a word with her, and my emotion now was scarce
+controllable. The happier lover beside her, with his features
+heightened in expression (as I thought they never could be) by his
+embarrassment in wooing, was evidently and irresistibly the object of
+her momentary admiration. He offered her his arm, and made a movement
+toward the path off into the forest. There was an imploring deference
+infinitely becoming in his manner, and see it she must, with pride and
+pleasure. She hesitated&mdash;gave a look to where I stood, which
+explained to me better than a world of language, that she had wished
+at least to speak to me on this last evening&mdash;and, before the
+dimness over my eyes had passed away, they were gone. Oh! pitying
+Heaven! give me never again, while wrapt in mortal weakness, so harsh
+a pang to suffer.</p>
+
+
+<h4>PART V.</h4>
+
+<p>The convent-bell struck midnight, and there was a foot-fall in the
+cloister. I was startled by it out of an entire forgetfulness of all
+around me, for I was lying on my bed in the monastery cell, with my
+hands clasped over my eyes, as I had thrown myself down on coming in;
+and, with a strange contrariety, my mind, broken rudely from its hope,
+had flown to my far away home, oblivious of the benumbed links that
+lay between. A knock at my door completed the return to my despair,
+for with a look at the walls of my little chamber, in the bright beam
+of moonlight that streamed in at the narrow window, I was, by
+recognition, again at Vallambrosa, and Stephania, with an accepted
+lover's voice in her ear, was again near me, her moistened eyes
+steeped with Palgray's in the same beam of the all-visiting and
+unbetraying moon.</p>
+
+<p>Father Ludovic entered. The gentle tone of his <i>benedicite</i>, told me
+that he had come on an errand of sympathy. There was little need of
+preliminary between two who read the inner countenance as habitually
+as did both of us; and as briefly as the knowledge and present feeling
+of each could be re-expressed in words, we confirmed the
+spirit-mingling that had brought him there, and were presently as one.
+He had read truly the drama of love, enacting in the party of visiters
+to his convent, but his judgment of the possible termination of it was
+different from mine.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Palgray's dormitory was at the extremity of the cloister, and we
+presently heard him pass.</p>
+
+<p>"She is alone, now," said Father Ludovic, "I will send you to her."</p>
+
+<p>My mind had strained to Stephania's presence with the first footsteps
+that told me of their separation; and it needed but a wave of his hand
+to unlink the spirit-wings from my weary frame. I was present with
+her.</p>
+
+<p>I struggled for a moment, but in vain, to see her face. Its expression
+was as visible as my hand in the sun, but no feature. The mind I had
+read was close to me, in a presence of consciousness; and, in points,
+here and there, brighter, bolder, and further-reaching than I had
+altogether believed. She was unutterably pure&mdash;a spirit without a
+spot&mdash;and I remained near her with a feeling as if my forehead
+were pressed down to the palms of my hands, in homage mixed with
+sorrow, for I should have more recognized this in my waking study of
+her nature.</p>
+
+<p>A moment more&mdash;a trembling effort, as if to read what were
+written to record my companionship for eternity&mdash;and a vague
+image of myself came out in shadow&mdash;clearer now, and still
+clearer, enlarging to the fullness of her mind. She thought wholly
+and only of that image I then saw, yet with a faint coloring playing
+to and from it, as influences came in from the outer world. Her eyes
+were turned in upon it in lost contemplation. But suddenly a new
+thought broke upon me. I saw my image, but it was not I, as I looked
+to myself. The type of my countenance was there; but, oh, transformed
+to an ideal, such as I now, for the first time, saw
+possible&mdash;ennobled in every defective line&mdash;purified of its
+taint from worldliness&mdash;inspired with high
+aspirations&mdash;cleared of what it had become cankered with, in its
+transmission through countless generations since first sent into the
+world, and restored to a likeness of the angel of whose illuminated
+lineaments it was first a copy. So thought Stephania of me. Thus did
+she believe I truly was. Oh! blessed, and yet humiliating, trust of
+woman! Oh! comparison of true and ideal, at which spirits must look
+out of heaven, and of which they must long, with aching pity, to make
+us thus rebukingly aware!</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>I felt myself withdrawing from Stephania's presence. There were tears
+between us, which I could not see. I strove to remain, but a stronger
+power than my will was at work within me. I felt my heart swell with a
+gasp, as if death were bearing out of it the principle of life; and my
+head dropped on the pillow of my bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, my son," said the low voice of Father Ludovic, "I have
+willed that you should remember what you have seen. Be worthy of her
+love, for there are few like her."</p>
+
+<p>He closed the door, and as the glide of his sandals died away in the
+echoing cloisters, I leaned forth to spread my expanding heart in the
+upward and boundless light of the moon&mdash;for I seemed to wish
+never again to lose in the wasteful forgetfulness of sleep, the
+consciousness that I was loved by Stephania.</p>
+
+<hr class="long" />
+
+<p>I was journeying the next day, alone, toward Venice. I had left
+written adieux for the party at Vallambrosa, pleading to my friends an
+unwillingness to bear the pain of a formal separation. Betwixt
+<span class="pagenum">104</span>midnight and morning, however, I had written a parting letter for
+Stephania, which I had committed to the kind envoying of Father
+Ludovic, and thus it ran:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"When you read this, Stephania, I shall be alone with the thought of
+you, traveling a reluctant road, but still with a burthen in my heart
+which will bring me to you again, and which even now envelopes my pang
+of separation in a veil of happiness. I have been blessed by Heaven's
+mercy with the power to know that you love me. Were you not what you
+are, I could not venture to startle you thus with a truth which,
+perhaps, you have hardly confessed in waking reality to yourself; but
+you are one of those who are coy of no truth that could be found to
+have lain without alarm in your own bosom, and, with those beloved
+hands pressed together with the earnestness of the clasp of prayer,
+you will say, 'yes! I love him!'</p>
+
+<p>"I leave you, now, not to put our love to trial, and still less in the
+ordinary meaning of the phrase, to prepare to wed you. The first is
+little needed, angels in heaven well know. The second is a thought
+which will be in time, when I have done the work on which I am newly
+bent by the inspiration of love&mdash;<i>the making myself what you
+think me to be</i>. Oh, Stephania! to feel encouraged, as God has given
+me strength to feel, that I may yet be this&mdash;that I may yet bring
+you a soul brought up to the standard you have raised, and achieve it
+by effort in self-denial, and by the works of honor and goodness that
+are as possible to a man in obscurity and poverty as to his brother in
+wealth and distinction&mdash;this is to me new life, boundless
+enlargement of sphere, food for a love of which, alas! I was not
+before worthy.</p>
+
+<p>"I have told you unreservedly what my station in life is&mdash;what my
+hopes are, and what career I had marked out for struggle. I shall go
+on with the career, though the prizes I then mentally saw have since
+faded in value almost as much as my purpose is strengthened. Fame and
+wealth, my pure, Stephania, are to you as they now can only be to me,
+larger trusts of service and duty; and if I hope they will come while
+other aims are sought, it is because they will confer happiness on
+parents and friends who mistakenly suppose them necessary to the
+winner of your heart. I hope to bring them to you. I know that I shall
+come as welcome without them.</p>
+
+<p>"While I write&mdash;while my courage and hope throb loud in the
+pulses of my bosom&mdash;I can think even happily of separation. To
+leave you, the better to return, is bearable&mdash;even
+pleasurable&mdash;to the heart's noonday mood. But I have been steeped
+for a summer, now, in a presence of visible and breathing loveliness,
+(that you cannot forbid me to speak of, since language is too poor to
+out-color truth,) and there will come moments of
+depression&mdash;twilights of deepening and undivided
+loneliness&mdash;hours of illness, perhaps&mdash;and times of
+discouragement and adverse cloudings over of Providence&mdash;when I
+shall need to be remembered with sympathy, and to know that I am so
+remembered. I do not ask you to write to me. It would entail
+difficulties upon you, and put between us an interchange of
+uncertainties and possible misunderstandings. But I can communicate
+with you by a surer medium, if you will grant a request. The habits of
+your family are such that you can, for the first hour after midnight,
+be always alone. Waking or sleeping, there will then be a thought of
+me occupying your heart, and&mdash;call it a fancy if you will&mdash;I
+can come and read it on the viewless wings of the soul.</p>
+
+<p>"I commend your inexpressible earthly beauty, dear Stephania, and your
+still brighter loveliness of soul, to God's angel, who has never left
+you. Farewell! You will see me when I am worthy of you&mdash;if it be
+necessary that it should be first in heaven, made so by forgiveness
+there.</p></div>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><i>Cell of St. Eusebius, Vallambrosa&mdash;day-breaking</i>."</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="butterfly" id="butterfly">A BUTTERFLY IN THE CITY.</a></h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Dear transient spirit of the fields,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou com'st, without distrust,</span><br />
+To fan the sunshine of our streets<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Among the noise and dust.</span><br />
+<br />
+Thou leadest in thy wavering flight<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My footsteps unaware,</span><br />
+Until I seem to walk the vales<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And breathe thy native air.</span><br />
+<br />
+And thou hast fed upon the flowers,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And drained their honied springs,</span><br />
+Till every tender hue they wore<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is blooming on thy wings.</span><br />
+<br />
+I bless the fresh and flowery light<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thou bringest to the town,</span><br />
+But tremble lest the hot turmoil<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Have power to weigh thee down;</span><br />
+<br />
+For thou art like the poet's song,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Arrayed in holiest dyes,</span><br />
+Though it hath drained the honied wells<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of flowers of Paradise;</span><br />
+<br />
+Though it hath brought celestial hues<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To light the ways of life,</span><br />
+The dust shall weigh its pinions down<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Amid the noisy strife.</span><br />
+<br />
+And yet, perchance, some kindred soul<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall see its glory shine,</span><br />
+And feel its wings within his heart<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As bright as I do thine.</span><br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="rival" id="rival">THE RIVAL SISTERS.</a></h3>
+<span class="pagenum">105</span>
+<h4>AN ENGLISH TRAGEDY OF REAL LIFE.</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT, AUTHOR OF "THE ROMAN TRAITOR," "MARMADUKE WYVIL," ETC.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h5>(<i>Concluded from page 22</i>.)</h5>
+
+
+<h4>PART II.</h4>
+
+<p>A lovely summer's evening in the year 168-, was drawing toward its
+close, when many a gay and brilliant cavalcade of both sexes, many of
+the huge gilded coaches of that day, and many a train of liveried
+attendants, winding through the green lane, as they arrived, some in
+this direction from Eton, some in that, across Datchet-mead, from
+Windsor, and its royal castle, came thronging toward
+Ditton-in-the-Dale.</p>
+
+<p>Lights were beginning to twinkle, as the shadows fell thick among the
+arcades of the trim gardens, and the wilder forest-walks which
+extended their circuitous course for many a mile along the stately
+hall of the Fitz-Henries; loud bursts of festive or of martial music
+came pealing down the wind, mixed with the hum of a gay and happy
+concourse, causing the nightingales to hold their peace, not in
+despair of rivaling the melody, but that the mirth jarred unpleasantly
+on the souls of the melancholy birds.</p>
+
+<p>The gates of Ditton-in-the-Dale were flung wide open, for it was gala
+night, and never had the old hall put on a gayer or more sumptuous
+show than it had donned that evening.</p>
+
+<p>From far and near the gentry and the nobles of Buckingham and
+Berkshire had gathered to the birthday ball&mdash;for such was the
+occasion of the festive meeting.</p>
+
+<p>Yes! it was Blanche Fitz-Henry's birthday; and on this gay and glad
+anniversary was the fair heiress of that noble house to be introduced
+to the great world as the future owner of those beautiful demesnes.</p>
+
+<p>From the roof to the foundation the old manor-house&mdash;it was a
+stately red brick mansion of the latter period of Elizabethan
+architecture, with mullioned windows, and stacks of curiously wreathed
+chimneys&mdash;was one blaze of light; and as group after group of gay
+and high-born riders came caracoling up to the hospitable porch, and
+coach after coach, with its running footmen, or mounted outriders
+lumbered slowly in their train, the saloons and corridors began to
+fill up rapidly, with a joyous and splendid company.</p>
+
+<p>The entrance-hall, a vast square apartment, wainscoted with old
+English oak, brighter and richer in its dark hues than mahogany,
+received the entering guests; and what with the profusion of
+wax-lights, pendant in gorgeous chandeliers from the carved roof, or
+fixed in silver sconces to the walls, the gay festoons of green
+wreaths and fresh summer flowers, mixed quaintly with old armor,
+blazoned shields, and rustling banners, some of which had waved over
+the thirsty plains of Syria, and been fanned by the shouts of triumph
+that pealed so high at Cressy and Poitiers, it presented a not unapt
+picture of that midway period&mdash;that halting-place, as it were,
+between the old world and the new&mdash;when chivalry and feudalism
+had ceased already to exist among the nations, but before the rudeness
+of reform had banished the last remnants of courtesy, and the
+reverence for all things that were high and noble&mdash;for all things
+that were fair and graceful&mdash;for all things, in one word, except
+the golden calf, the mob-worshiped mammon.</p>
+
+<p>Within this stately hall was drawn up in glittering array, the
+splendid band of the Life Guards, for royally himself was present, and
+all the officers of that superb regiment, quartered at Windsor, had
+followed in his train; and as an ordinary courtesy to their
+well-proved and loyal host, the services of those chosen musicians had
+been tendered and accepted.</p>
+
+<p>Through many a dazzling corridor, glittering with lights, and redolent
+of choicest perfumes, through many a fair saloon the guests were
+marshaled to the great drawing-room, where, beneath a canopy of state,
+the ill-advised and imbecile monarch, soon to be deserted by the very
+princes and princesses who now clustered round his throne, sat, with
+his host and his lovely daughters at his right hand, accepting the
+homage of the fickle crowd, who were within a little year to bow
+obsequiously to the cold-blooded Hollander.</p>
+
+<p>That was a day of singular, and what would now be termed hideous
+costumes&mdash;a day of hair-powder and patches, of hoops and trains,
+of stiff brocades and tight-laced stomachers, and high-heeled shoes
+among the ladies&mdash;of flowing periwigs, and coats with huge cuffs
+and no collars, and voluminous skirts, of diamond-hilted rapiers, and
+diamond buckles, ruffles of Valenciennes and Mecklin lace, among the
+ruder sex. And though the individual might be metamorphosed strangely
+from the fair form which nature gave him, it cannot be denied that the
+concourse of highly-bred and graceful persons, when viewed as a whole,
+was infinitely more picturesque, infinitely more like what the fancy
+paints a meeting of the great and noble, than any assemblage
+now-a-days, however courtly or refined, in which the stiff dress coats
+and white neckcloths of the men are not to be redeemed by the Parisian
+finery&mdash;how much more natural, let critics tell, than the hoop
+<span class="pagenum">106</span>and train&mdash;of the fair portion of the company.</p>
+
+<p>The rich materials, the gay colors, the glittering jewelry, and waving
+plumes, all contributed their part to the splendor of the show; and in
+those days a gentleman possessed at least this advantage, lost to him
+in these practical utilitarian times, that he could not by any
+possibility be mistaken for his own <i>valet de chambre</i>&mdash;a
+misfortune which has befallen many a one, the most aristocratic not
+excepted, of modern nobility.</p>
+
+<p>A truly graceful person will be graceful, and look well in every garb,
+however strange or <i>outr&eacute;</i>; and there is, moreover, undoubtedly
+something, apart from any paltry love of finery, or mere vanity of
+person, which elevates the thoughts, and stamps a statelier demeanor
+on the man who is clad highly for some high occasion. The custom, too,
+of wearing arms, peculiar to the gentleman of that day, had its
+effect, and that not a slight one, as well on the character as on the
+bearing of the individual so distinguished.</p>
+
+<p>As for the ladies, loveliness will still be loveliness, disguise it as
+you may; and if the beauties of King James's court lost much by the
+travesty of their natural ringlets, they gained, perhaps, yet more
+from the increased lustre of their complexions and brilliancy of their
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>So that it is far from being the case, as is commonly supposed, that
+it was owing to fashion alone, and the influence of all powerful
+custom, that the costume of that day was not tolerated only, but
+admired by its wearers.</p>
+
+<p>At this time, however, the use of hair-powder, though general, was by
+no means universal; and many beauties, who fancied that it did not
+suit their complexions, dispensed with it altogether, or wore it in
+some modified shape, and tinged with some coloring matter, which
+assimilated it more closely to the natural tints of the hair.</p>
+
+<p>At all events, it must have been a dull eye, and a cold heart, that
+could have looked undelighted on the assemblage that night gathered in
+the ball-room of Ditton-in-the-Dale.</p>
+
+<p>But now the reception was finished; the royal party moved into the
+ball-room, from which they shortly afterward retired, leaving the
+company at liberty from the restraint which their presence had imposed
+upon them. The concourse broke up into little groups; the stately
+minuet was performed, and livelier dances followed it; and gentlemen
+sighed tender sighs, and looked unutterable things; and ladies
+listened to soft nonsense, and smiled gentle approbation; and melting
+glances were exchanged, and warm hands were pressed warmly; and fans
+were flirted angrily, and flippant jokes were interchanged&mdash;for
+human nature, whether in the seventeeth or the nineteenth century,
+whether arrayed in brocade, or simply dressed in broadcloth, is human
+nature still; and, perhaps, not one feeling, or one passion, that
+actuated man's or woman's heart five hundred years ago, but dwells
+within it now, and shall dwell unchanged forever.</p>
+
+<p>It needs not to say that, on such an occasion, in their own father's
+mansion, and at the celebration of one sister's birthday, Blanche and
+Agnes, had their attractions been much smaller, their pretensions much
+more lowly than they really were, would have received boundless
+attention. But being as they were infinitely the finest girls in the
+room, and being, moreover, new <i>debutantes</i> on the stage of fashion,
+there was no limit to the admiration, to the <i>furor</i> which they
+excited among the wits and lady-killers of the day.</p>
+
+<p>Many an antiquated Miss, proud of past conquests, and unable yet to
+believe that her career of triumph was, indeed, ended, would turn up
+an envious nose, and utter a sharp sneer at the forwardness and hoyden
+mirth of that pert Mistress Agnes, or at the coldness and inanimate
+smile of the fair heiress; but the sneer, even were it the sneer of a
+duke's or a minister's daughter, fell harmless, or yet worse, drew
+forth a prompt defence of the unjustly assailed beauty.</p>
+
+<p>No greater proof could be adduced, indeed, of the amazing success of
+the sister beauties, than the unanimous decision of every lady in the
+room numbering less than forty years, that they were by no means
+uncommon; were pretty country hoppets, who, as soon as the novelty of
+their first appearance should have worn out, would cease to be
+admired, and sink back into their proper sphere of insignificance.</p>
+
+<p>So thought not the gentle cavaliers; and there were many present
+there, well qualified to judge of ladies' minds as of ladies' persons;
+and not a few were heard to swear aloud, that the Fitz-Henries were as
+far above the rest of their sex in wit, and graceful accomplishment,
+as in beauty of form and face, and elegance of motion.</p>
+
+<p>See! they are dancing now some gay, newly invented, Spanish dance,
+each whirling through the voluptuous mazes of the courtly measure with
+her own characteristic air and manner, each evidently pleased with her
+partner, each evidently charming him in turn; and the two together
+enchaining all eyes, and interesting all spectators, so that a gentle
+hum of approbation is heard running through the crowd, as they pause,
+blushing and panting from the exertion and excitement of the dance.</p>
+
+<p>"Fore Gad! she is exquisite, George! I have seen nothing like her in
+my time," lisped a superb coxcomb, attired in a splendid civilian's
+suit of Pompadour and silver, to a young cornet of the Life Guard who
+stood beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"Which <i>she</i>, my lord?" inquired the standard-bearer, in reply.
+"Methinks they both deserve your encomiums; but I would fain know
+which of the two your lordship means, for fame speaks you a dangerous
+rival against whom to enter the lists."</p>
+
+<p>"What, George!" cried the other, gayly, "are you about to have a
+throw for the heiress? Pshaw! it wont do, man&mdash;never think of it!
+Why, though you are an earl's second son, and date your creation from
+the days of Hump-backed Dickon, old Allan would vote you a <i>novus
+homo</i>, as we used to say at Christ Church. Pshaw! George, go hang
+yourself! No one has a chance of winning that fair loveliness, much
+<span class="pagenum">107</span>less of wearing her, unless he can quarter Sir Japhet's bearings on
+his coat armorial."</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>is</i> the heiress, then, my lord," answered George Delawarr,
+merrily. "I thought as much from the first. Well, I'll relieve your
+lordship, as you have relieved me, from all fear of rivalry. I am
+devoted to the dark beauty. Egad! there's life, there's fire for you!
+Why, I should have thought the flash of that eye-glance would have
+reduced Jack Greville to cinders in a moment, yet there he stands, as
+calm and impassive a puppy as ever dangled a plumed hat, or played
+with a sword-knot. Your fair beauty's cold, my lord. Give me that
+Italian complexion, and that coal-black hair! Gad zooks! I honor the
+girl's spirit for not disguising it with starch and pomatum. There's
+more passion in her little finger, than in the whole soul of the
+other."</p>
+
+<p>"You're out there, George Delawarr," returned the peer. "Trust me, it
+is not always the quickest flame that burns the strongest; nor the
+liveliest girl that feels the most deeply. There's an old saying, and
+a true one, that still water aye runs deep. And, trust me, if I know
+any thing of the dear, delicious, devilish sex, as methinks I am not
+altogether a novice at the trade, if ever Blanche Fitz-Henry love at
+all, she will love with her whole soul and heart and spirit. That gay,
+laughing brunette will love you with her tongue, her eyes, her head,
+and perhaps her fancy&mdash;the other, if, as I say, she ever love at
+all, will love with her whole being."</p>
+
+<p>"The broad acres! my lord! all the broad acres!" replied the cornet,
+laughing more merrily than before. "Fore Gad! I think it the very
+thing for you. For the first Lord St. George was, I believe, in the
+ark with Noah, so that you will pass current with the first gentleman
+of England. I prithee, my lord, push your suit, and help me on a
+little with my dark Dulcinea."</p>
+
+<p>"Faith! George, I've no objection; and see, this dance is over. Let us
+go up and ask their fair hands. You'll have no trouble in ousting that
+shallow-pated puppy Jack, and I think I can put the pass on Mr.
+privy-counsellor there, although he is simpering so prettily. But,
+hold a moment, have you been duly and in form presented to your
+black-eyed beauty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my soul! I hope so, my lord. It were very wrong else; for I have
+danced with her three times to-night already."</p>
+
+<p>"The devil! Well, come along, quick. I see that they are going to
+announce supper, so soon as this next dance shall be ended; and if we
+can engage them now, we shall have their fair company for an hour at
+least."</p>
+
+<p>"I am with you, my lord!"</p>
+
+<p>And away they sauntered through the crowd, and ere long were coupled
+for a little space each to the lady of his choice.</p>
+
+<p>The dance was soon over, and then, as Lord St. George had surmised,
+supper was announced, and the cavaliers led their ladies to the
+sumptuous board, and there attended them with all that courtly and
+respectful service, which, like many another good thing, has passed
+away and been forgotten with the diamond-hilted sword, and the full
+bottomed periwig.</p>
+
+<p>George Delawarr was full as ever of gay quips and merry repartees; his
+wit was as sparkling as the champagne which in some degree inspired
+it, and as innocent. There was no touch of bitterness or satire in his
+polished and gentle humor; no envy or dislike pointed his quick,
+epigrammatic speech; but all was clear, light, and transparent, as the
+sunny air at noonday. Nor was his conversation altogether light and
+mirthful. There were at times bursts of high enthusiasm, at which he
+would himself laugh heartily a moment afterward&mdash;there were
+touches of passing romance and poetry blending in an under-current
+with his fluent mirth; and, above all, there was an evident strain of
+right feeling, of appreciation of all that was great and generous and
+good, predominant above romance and wit, perceptible in every word he
+uttered.</p>
+
+<p>And Agnes listened, and laughed, and flung back skillfully and
+cleverly the ball of conversation, as he tossed it to her. She was
+pleased, it was evident, and amused. But she was pleased only as with
+a clever actor, a brilliant performer on some new instrument now heard
+for the first time. The gay, wild humor of the young man hit her
+fancy; his mad wit struck a kindred chord in her mind; but the latent
+poetry and romance passed unheeded, and the noblest point of all, the
+good and gracious feelings, made no impression on the polished but
+hard surface of the bright maiden's heart.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime, how fared the peer with the calmer and gentler sister? Less
+brilliant than George Delawarr, he had traveled much, had seen more of
+men and things, had a more cultivated mind, was more of a scholar, and
+no less of a gentleman, scarce less perhaps of a soldier; for he had
+served a campaign or two in his early youth in the Low Countries.</p>
+
+<p>He was a noble and honorable man, clever, and eloquent, and well
+esteemed&mdash;a little, perhaps, spoiled by that good esteem, a
+little too confident of himself, too conscious of his own good mien
+and good parts, and a little hardened, if very much polished, by
+continual contact with the world.</p>
+
+<p>He was, however, an easy and agreeable talker, accustomed to the
+society of ladies, in which he was held to shine, and fond of shining.
+He exerted himself also that night, partly because he was really
+struck with Blanche's grace and beauty, partly because Delawarr's
+liveliness and wit excited him to a sort of playful rivalry.</p>
+
+<p>Still, he was not successful; for though Blanche listened graciously,
+and smiled in the right places, and spoke in answer pleasantly and
+well, when she did speak, and evidently wished to appear and to be
+amused; her mind was at times absent and distracted, and it could not
+long escape the observation of so thorough a man of the world as Lord
+St. George, that he had not made that impression on the young country
+damsel which he was wont to make, with one half the effort, on what
+might be supposed more difficult ladies.</p>
+
+<p>But though he saw this plainly, he was too much of a gentleman to be
+<span class="pagenum">108</span>either piqued or annoyed; and if any thing he exerted himself the more
+to please, when he believed exertion useless; and by degrees his
+gentle partner laid aside her abstraction, and entered into the spirit
+of the hour with something of her sister's mirth, though with a
+quieter and more chastened tone.</p>
+
+<p>It was a pleasant party, and a merry evening; but like all other
+things, merry or sad, it had its end, and passed away, and by many was
+forgotten; but there were two persons present there who never while
+they lived forgot that evening&mdash;for there were other two, to whom
+it was indeed the commencement of the end.</p>
+
+<p>But the hour for parting had arrived, and with the ceremonious
+greetings of those days, deep bows and stately courtesies, and kissing
+of fair hands, and humble requests to be permitted to pay their duty
+on the following day, the cavaliers and ladies parted.</p>
+
+<p>When the two gallants stood together in the great hall, George
+Delawarr turned suddenly to the peer&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Where the deuce are you going to sleep to-night, St. George? You came
+down hither all the way from London, did you not? You surely do not
+mean to return to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"I surely do not <i>wish</i> it, you mean, George. No, truly. But I do mean
+it. For my fellows tell me that there is not a bed to be had for love,
+which does not at all surprise me, or for money, which I confess does
+somewhat, in Eton, Slough, or Windsor. And if I must go back to
+Brentford or to Hounslow, as well at once to London."</p>
+
+<p>"Come with me! Come with me, St. George. I can give you quarters in
+the barracks, and a good breakfast, and a game of tennis if you will;
+and afterward, if you like, we'll ride over and see how these
+bright-eyed beauties look by daylight, after all this night-work."</p>
+
+<p>"A good offer, George, and I'll take it as it is offered."</p>
+
+<p>"How are you here? In a great lumbering coach I suppose. Well, look
+you, I have got two horses here; you shall take mine, and I'll ride on
+my fellow's, who shall go with your people and pilot them on the road,
+else they'll be getting that great gilded Noah's ark into
+Datchet-ditch. Have you got any tools? Ay! ay! I see you travel well
+equipped, if you do ride in your coach. Now your riding-cloak, the
+nights are damp here, by the river-side, even in summer; oh! never
+mind your pistols, you'll find a brace in my holsters, genuine
+Kuchenreuters. I can hit a crown piece with them, for a hundred
+guineas, at fifty paces."</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven send that you never shoot at me with them, if that's the case,
+George."</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven send that I never shoot at any one, my lord, unless it be an
+enemy of my king and country, and in open warfare; for so certainly as
+I do shoot I shall kill."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not doubt you, George. But let's be off. The lights are burning
+low in the sockets, and these good fellows are evidently tired out
+with their share of our festivity. Fore Gad! I believe we are the last
+of the guests."</p>
+
+<p>And with the word, the young men mounted joyously, and galloped away
+at the top of their horses' speed to the quarters of the life-guard in
+Windsor.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour after their departure, the two sisters sat above stairs
+in a pleasant chamber, disrobing themselves, with the assistance of
+their maidens, of the cumbrous and stiff costumes of the ball-room,
+and jesting merrily over the events of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Blanche," said Agnes archly, "confess, siss, who is the lord
+paramount, the beau <i>par excellence</i>, of the ball? I know, you demure
+puss! After all, it is ever the quiet cat that licks the cream. But to
+think that on your very first night you should have made such a
+conquest. So difficult, too, to please, they say, and all the great
+court ladies dying for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! madcap. I don't know who you mean. At all events, I have not
+danced four dances in one evening with one cavalier. Ah! have I caught
+you, pretty mistress?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! that was only <i>poor</i> George Delawarr. A paltry cornet in the
+guards. He will do well enough to have dangling after one, to play
+with, while he amuses one&mdash;but fancy, being proud of conquering
+poor George! His namesake with the Saint before it were worth a score
+of such."</p>
+
+<p>"Fie, sister!" said Blanche, gravely. "I do not love to hear you talk
+so. I am sure he's a very pretty gentleman, and has twice as much head
+as my lord, if I'm not mistaken; and three times as much heart."</p>
+
+<p>"Heart, indeed, siss! Much you know about hearts, I fancy. But, now
+that you speak of it, I <i>will</i> try if he has got a heart. If he has,
+he will do well to pique some more eligible&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Agnes, Agnes! I cannot hear you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw!" interrupted the younger sister, very bitterly, "this
+affectation of sentiment and disinterestedness sits very prettily on
+the heiress of Ditton-in-the-Dale, Long Netherby, and Waltham Ferrers,
+three manors, and ten thousand pounds a year to buy a bridegroom! Poor
+I, with my face for my fortune, must needs make my wit eke out my want
+of dowry. And I'm not one, I promise you, siss, to choose love in a
+cottage. No, no! Give me your Lord St. George, and I'll make over all
+my right and title to poor George Delawarr this minute. Heigho! I
+believe the fellow is smitten with me after all. Well, well! I'll have
+some fun with him before I have done yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Agnes," said Blanche, gravely, but reproachfully, "I have long seen
+that you are light, and careless whom you wound with your wild words,
+but I never thought before that you were bad-hearted."</p>
+
+<p>"Bad-hearted, sister!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! bad-hearted! To speak to me of manors, or of money, as if for
+fifty wills, or five hundred fathers, I would ever profit by a
+parent's whim to rob my sister of her portion. As if I would not
+rather lie in the cold grave, than that my sister should have a wish
+ungratified, which I had power to gratify, much less that she should
+<span class="pagenum">109</span>narrow down the standard of her choice&mdash;the holiest and most
+sacred thing on earth&mdash;to the miserable scale of wealth and
+title. Out upon it! out upon it! Never, while you live, speak so to me
+again!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sister, I never will. I did not mean it, sister, dear," cried Agnes,
+now much affected, as she saw how vehemently Blanche was moved. "You
+should not heed me. You know my wild, rash way, and how I speak
+whatever words come first."</p>
+
+<p>"Those were very meaning words, Agnes&mdash;and very bitter, too. They
+cut me to the heart," cried the fair girl, bursting into a flood of
+passionate tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! do not&mdash;do not, Blanche. Forgive me, dearest! Indeed,
+indeed, I meant nothing!"</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive you, Agnes! I have nothing to forgive. I was not even angry,
+but pained, but sorry for you, sister; for sure I am, that if you give
+way to this bitter, jealous spirit, you will work much anguish to
+yourself, and to all those who love you."</p>
+
+<p>"Jealous, Blanche!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Agnes, jealous! But let us say no more. Let this pass, and be
+forgotten; but never, dear girl, if you love me, as I think you do,
+never <i>so</i> speak to me again."</p>
+
+<p>"I never, never will." And she fell upon her neck, and kissed her
+fondly, as her heart relented, and she felt something of sincere
+repentance for the harsh words which she had spoken, and the hard,
+bitter feelings which suggested them.</p>
+
+<p>Another hour, and, clasped in each others' arms, they were sleeping as
+sweetly as though no breath of this world's bitterness had ever blown
+upon their hearts, or stirred them into momentary strife.</p>
+
+<p>Peace to their slumbers, and sweet dreams!</p>
+
+<p>It was, perhaps, an hour or two after noon, and the early dinner of
+the time was already over, when the two sisters strolled out into the
+gardens, unaccompanied, except by a tall old greyhound, Blanche's
+peculiar friend and guardian, and some two or three beautiful
+silky-haired King Charles spaniels.</p>
+
+<p>After loitering for a little while among the trim parterres, and
+box-edged terraces, and gathering a few sweet summer flowers, they
+turned to avoid the heat, which was excessive, into the dark elm
+avenue, and wandered along between the tall black yew hedges, linked
+arm-in-arm, indeed, but both silent and abstracted, and neither of
+them conscious of the rich melancholy music of the nightingales, which
+was ringing all around them in that pleasant solitude.</p>
+
+<p>Both, indeed, were buried in deep thought; and each, perhaps, for the
+first time in her life, felt that her thought was such that she could
+not, dared not, communicate it to her sister.</p>
+
+<p>For Blanche Fitz-Henry had, on the previous night, began, for the
+first time in her life, to suspect that she was the owner, for the
+time being, of a commodity called a heart, although it may be that the
+very suspicion proved in some degree that the possession was about to
+pass, if it were not already passing, from her.</p>
+
+<p>In sober seriousness, it must be confessed that the young cornet of
+the Life Guards, although he had made so little impression on her to
+whom he had devoted his attentions, had produced an effect different
+from any thing which she had ever fell before on the mind of the elder
+sister. It was not his good mien, nor his noble air that had struck
+her; for though he was a well-made, fine-looking man, of graceful
+manners, and high-born carriage, there were twenty men in the room
+with whom he could not for five minutes have sustained a comparison in
+point of personal appearance.</p>
+
+<p>His friend, the Viscount St. George, to whom she had lent but a cold
+ear, was a far handsomer man. Nor was it his wit and gay humor, and
+easy flow of conversation, that had captivated her fancy; although she
+certainly did think him the most agreeable man she had ever listened
+to. No, it was the under-current of delicate and poetical thought, the
+glimpses of a high and noble spirit, which flashed out at times
+through the light veil of reckless merriment, which, partly in
+compliance with the spirit of the day, and partly because his was a
+gay and mirthful nature, he had superinduced over the deeper and
+grander points of his character. No; it was a certain originality of
+mind, which assured her that, though he might talk lightly, he was one
+to feel fervently and deeply&mdash;it was the impress of truth, and
+candor, and high independence, which was stamped on his every word and
+action, that first riveted her attention, and, in spite of her
+resistance, half fascinated her imagination.</p>
+
+<p>This it was that had held her abstracted and apparently indifferent,
+while Lord St. George was exerting all his powers of entertainment in
+her behalf; this it was that had roused her indignation at hearing her
+sister speak so slightingly, and, as it seemed to her, so ungenerously
+of one whom she felt intuitively to be good and noble.</p>
+
+<p>This it was which now held her mute and thoughtful, and almost sad;
+for she felt conscious that she was on the verge of
+loving&mdash;loving one who, for aught that he had shown as yet, cared
+naught for her, perhaps even preferred another&mdash;and that other
+her own sister.</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon her maiden modesty rallied tumultuous to the rescue, and
+suggested the shame of giving love unasked, giving it, perchance, to
+be scorned&mdash;and almost she resolved to stifle the infant feeling
+in its birth, and rise superior to the weakness. But when was ever
+love vanquished by cold argument, or bound at the chariot-wheels of
+reason.</p>
+
+<p>The thought would still rise up prominent, turn her mind to whatever
+subject she would, coupled with something of pity at the treatment
+which he was like to meet from Agnes, something of vague, unconfessed
+pleasure that it was so, and something of secret hope that his eyes
+would erelong be opened, and that she might prove, in the end, herself
+his consoler.</p>
+
+<p>And what, meanwhile, were the dreams of Agnes? Bitter&mdash;bitter,
+and black, and hateful. Oh! it is a terrible consideration, how
+swiftly evil thoughts, once admitted to the heart, take root and
+flourish, and grow up into a rank and poisonous crop, choking the good
+grain utterly, and corrupting the very soil of which they have taken
+hold. There is but one hope&mdash;but one! To tear them from the root
+<span class="pagenum">110</span>forcibly, though the heart-strings crack, and the soul trembles, as
+with a spiritual earthquake. To nerve the mind firmly and resolutely,
+yet humbly withal, and contritely, and with prayer against temptation,
+prayer for support from on high&mdash;to resist the Evil One with the
+whole force of the intellect, the whole truth of the heart, and to
+stop the ears steadfastly against the voice of the charmer, charm he
+never so wisely.</p>
+
+<p>But so did not Agnes Fitz-Henry. It is true that on the preceding
+night her better feelings had been touched, her heart had relented,
+and she had banished, as she thought, the evil counsellors, ambition,
+envy, jealousy, and distrust, from her spirit.</p>
+
+<p>But with the night the better influence passed away, and ere the
+morning had well come, the evil spirit had returned to his dwelling
+place, and brought with him other spirits, worse and more wicked than
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>The festive scene of the previous evening had, for the first time
+opened her eyes fairly to her own position; she read it in the
+demeanor of all present; she heard it in the whispers which
+unintentionally reached her ears; she felt it intuitively in the
+shade&mdash;it was not a shade, yet she observed it&mdash;of
+difference perceptible in the degree of deference and courtesy paid to
+herself and to her sister.</p>
+
+<p>She felt, for the first time, that Blanche was every thing, herself a
+mere cipher&mdash;that Blanche was the lady of the manor, the cynosure
+of all eyes, the queen of all hearts, herself but the lady's poor
+relation, the dependent on her bounty, and at the best a creature to
+be played with, and petted for her beauty and her wit, without regard
+to her feelings, or sympathy for her heart.</p>
+
+<p>And prepared as she was at all times to resist even just authority
+with insolent rebellion; ready as she was always to assume the
+defensive, and from that the offensive against all whom she fancied
+offenders, how angrily did her heart now boil up, how almost fiercely
+did she muster her faculties to resist, to attack, to conquer, to
+annihilate all whom she deemed her enemies&mdash;and that, for the
+moment, was the world.</p>
+
+<p>Conscious of her own beauty, of her own wit, of her own high and
+powerful intellect, perhaps over-confident in her resources, she
+determined on that instant that she would devote them all, all to one
+purpose, to which she would bend every energy, direct every thought of
+her mind&mdash;to her own aggrandizement, by means of some great and
+splendid marriage, which should set her as far above the heiress of
+Ditton-in-the-Dale, as the rich heiress now stood in the world's eye
+above the portionless and dependent sister.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was this all&mdash;there was a sterner, harder, and more wicked
+feeling yet, springing up in her heart, and whispering the sweetness
+of revenge&mdash;revenge on that amiable and gentle sister, who, so
+far from wronging her, had loved her ever with the tenderest and most
+affectionate love, who would have sacrificed her dearest wishes to her
+welfare&mdash;but whom, in the hardness of her embittered spirit, she
+could now see only as an intruder upon her own just rights, a rival on
+the stage of fashion, perhaps in the interests of the heart&mdash;whom
+she already envied, suspected, almost hated.</p>
+
+<p>And Blanche, at that self-same moment, had resolved to keep watch on
+her own heart narrowly, and to observe her sister's bearing toward
+George Delawarr, that in case she should perceive her favoring his
+suit, she might at once crush down the germ of rising passion, and
+sacrifice her own to her dear sister's happiness.</p>
+
+<p>Alas! Blanche! Alas! Agnes!</p>
+
+<p>Thus they strolled onward, silently and slowly, until they reached the
+little green before the summer-house, which was then the gayest and
+most lightsome place that can be imagined, with its rare paintings
+glowing in their undimmed hues, its gilding bright and burnished, its
+furniture all sumptuous and new, and instead of the dark funereal ivy,
+covered with woodbine and rich clustered roses. The windows were all
+thrown wide open to the perfumed summer air, and the warm light poured
+in through the gaps in the tree-tops, and above the summits of the
+then carefully trimmed hedgerows, blithe and golden.</p>
+
+<p>They entered and sat down, still pensive and abstracted; but erelong
+the pleasant and happy influences of the time and place appeared to
+operate in some degree on the feelings of both, but especially on the
+tranquil and well-ordered mind of the elder sister. She raised her
+head suddenly, and was about to speak, when the rapid sound of horses'
+feet, unheard on the soft sand until they were hard by, turned her
+attention to the window, and the next moment the two young cavaliers,
+who were even then uppermost in her mind, came into view, cantering
+along slowly on their well-managed chargers.</p>
+
+<p>Her eye was not quicker than those of the gallant riders, who, seeing
+the ladies, whom they had ridden over to visit, sitting by the windows
+of the summer-house, checked their horses on the instant, and doffed
+their plumed hats.</p>
+
+<p>"Good faith, fair ladies, we are in fortune's graces to-day," said the
+young peer, gracefully, "since having ridden thus far on our way to
+pay you our humble devoirs, we meet you thus short of our journey's
+end."</p>
+
+<p>"But how are we to win our way to you," cried Delawarr, "as you sit
+there bright <i>chatelaines</i> of your enchanted bower&mdash;for I see
+neither fairy skiff, piloted by grim-visaged dwarfs, to waft us over,
+nor even a stray dragon, by aid of whose broad wings to fly across
+this mimic moat, which seems to be something of the deepest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! gallop on, gay knights," said Agnes, smiling on Lord St. George,
+but averting her face somewhat from the cornet, "gallop on to the
+lodges, and leaving there your coursers, take the first path on the
+left hand, and that will lead you to our presence; and should you
+peradventure get entangled in the hornbeam maze, why, one of us two
+will bring you the clue, like a second Ariadne. Ride on and we will
+meet you. Come, sister, let us walk."</p>
+
+<p>Blanche had as yet scarcely found words to reply to the greeting of
+the gallants, for the coincidence of their arrival with her own
+<span class="pagenum">111</span>thoughts had embarrassed her a little, and she had blushed crimson as
+she caught the eye of George Delawarr fixed on her with a marked
+expression, beneath which her own dropped timidly. But now she arose,
+and bowing with an easy smile, and a few pleasant words, expressed her
+willingness to abide by her sister's plan.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes the ladies met their gallants in the green labyrinth
+of which Agnes had spoken, and falling into pairs, for the walk was
+too narrow to allow them all four to walk abreast, they strolled in
+company toward the Hall.</p>
+
+<p>What words they said, I am not about to relate&mdash;for such
+conversations, though infinitely pleasant to the parties, are for the
+most part infinitely dull to third persons&mdash;but it so fell out,
+not without something of forwardness and marked management, which did
+not escape the young soldier's rapid eye, on the part of Agnes, that
+the order of things which had been on the previous evening was
+reversed; the gay, rattling girl attaching herself perforce to the
+viscount, not without a sharp and half-sarcastic jest at the expense
+of her former partner, and the mild heiress falling to his charge.</p>
+
+<p>George Delawarr had been smitten, it is true, the night before by the
+gayety and rapid intellect of Agnes, as well as by the wild and
+peculiar style of her beauty; and it might well have been that the
+temporary fascination might have ripened into love. But he was hurt,
+and disgusted even more than hurt, by her manner, and observing her
+with a watchful eye as she coquetted with his friend, he speedily came
+to the conclusion that St. George was right in his estimate of <i>her</i>
+character at least, although he now seemed to be flattered and amused
+by her evident prepossession in his favor.</p>
+
+<p>He had not, it is true, been deeply enough touched to feel either
+pique or melancholy at this discovery, but was so far heart-whole as
+to be rather inclined to laugh at the fickleness of the merry jilt,
+than either to repine or to be angry.</p>
+
+<p>He was by no means the man, however, to cast away the occasion of
+pleasure; and walking with so beautiful and soft a creature as
+Blanche, he naturally abandoned himself to the tide of the hour, and
+in a little while found himself engaged in a conversation, which, if
+less sparkling and brilliant, was a thousand times more charming than
+that which he had yesterday held with her sister.</p>
+
+<p>In a short time he had made the discovery that with regard to the
+elder sister, too, his friend's penetration had exceeded his own; and
+that beneath that calm and tranquil exterior there lay a deep and
+powerful mind, stored with a treasury of the richest gems of thought
+and feeling. He learned in that long woodland walk that she was,
+indeed, a creature both to adore and to be adored; and he, too, like
+St. George, was certain, that the happy man whom she should love,
+would be loved for himself alone, with the whole fervor, the whole
+truth, the whole concentrated passion of a heart, the flow of which
+once unloosed, would be but the stronger for the restraint which had
+hitherto confined it.</p>
+
+<p>Erelong, as they reached the wider avenue, the two parties united, and
+then, more than ever, he perceived the immense superiority in all
+lovable, all feminine points, of the elder to the younger sister; for
+Agnes, though brilliant and seemingly thoughtless and spirit-free as
+ever, let fall full many a bitter word, many a covert taunt and hidden
+sneer, which, with his eyes now opened as they were, he readily
+detected, and which Blanche, as he could discover, even through her
+graceful quietude, felt, and felt painfully.</p>
+
+<p>They reached the Hall at length, and were duly welcomed by its master;
+refreshments were offered and accepted&mdash;and the young men were
+invited to return often, and a day was fixed on which they should
+partake the hospitalities of Ditton, at least as temporary residents.</p>
+
+<p>The night was already closing in when they mounted their horses and
+withdrew, both well pleased with their visit&mdash;for the young lord
+was in pursuit of amusement only, and seeing at a glance the coyness
+of the heiress, and the somewhat forward coquetry of her sister, he
+had accommodated himself to circumstances, and determined that a
+passing flirtation with so pretty a girl, and a short <i>sejour</i> at a
+house so well-appointed as Ditton, would be no unpleasant substitute
+for London in the dog-days; and George Delawarr, like Romeo, had
+discarded the imaginary love the moment he found the true Juliet. If
+not in love, he certainly was fascinated, charmed; he certainly
+thought Blanche the sweetest, and most lovely girl he had ever met,
+and was well inclined to believe that she was the best and most
+admirable. He trembled on the verge of his fate.</p>
+
+<p>And she&mdash;her destiny was fixed already, and forever! And when she
+saw her sister delighted with the attentions of the youthful nobleman,
+she smiled to herself, and dreamed a pleasant dream, and gave herself
+up to the sweet delusion. She had already asked her own heart "does he
+love me?" and though it fluttered sorely, and hesitated for a while,
+it did not answer, "No!"</p>
+
+<p>But as the gentlemen rode homeward, St. George turned shortly on his
+companion, and said, gravely,</p>
+
+<p>"You have changed your mind, Delawarr, and found out that I am right.
+Nevertheless, beware! do not, for God's sake, fall in love with her,
+or make her love you!"</p>
+
+<p>The blood flushed fiery-red to the ingenuous brow of George Delawarr,
+and he was embarrassed for a moment. Then he tried to turn off his
+confusion with a jest.</p>
+
+<p>"What, jealous, my lord! jealous of a poor cornet, with no other
+fortune than an honorable name, and a bright sword! I thought you,
+too, had changed your mind, when I saw you flirting so merrily with
+that merry brunette."</p>
+
+<p>"You did see me <i>flirting</i>, George&mdash;nothing more; and I <i>have</i>
+changed my mind, since the beginning, if not since the end of last
+evening&mdash;for I thought at first that fair Blanche Fitz-Henry
+would make me a charming wife; and now I am sure that she would
+<i>not</i>&mdash;"</p><span class="pagenum">112</span>
+
+<p>"Why so, my lord? For God's sake! why say you so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because she never would love <i>me</i>, George; and <i>I</i> would never marry
+any woman, unless I were sure that she both could and did. So you see
+that I am not the least jealous; but still I say, don't fall in love
+with her&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Faith! St. George, but your admonition comes somewhat late&mdash;for
+I believe I am half in love with her already."</p>
+
+<p>"Then stop where you are, and go no deeper&mdash;for if I err not, she
+is more than half in love with you, too."</p>
+
+<p>"A strange reason, St. George, wherefore to bid me stop!"</p>
+
+<p>"A most excellent good one!" replied the other, gravely, and almost
+sadly, "for mutual love between you two can only lead to mutual
+misery. Her father never would consent to her marrying you more than
+he would to her marrying a peasant&mdash;the man is perfectly insane
+on the subject of title-deeds and heraldry, and will accept no one for
+his son-in-law who cannot show as many quarterings as a Spanish
+grandee, or a German noble. But, of course, it is of no use talking
+about it. Love never yet listened to reason; and, moreover, I suppose
+what is to be is to be&mdash;come what may."</p>
+
+<p>"And what will you do, St. George, about Agnes? I think you are
+touched there a little!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a whit I&mdash;honor bright! And for what I will do&mdash;amuse
+myself, George&mdash;amuse myself, and that pretty coquette, too; and
+if I find her less of a coquette, with more of a heart than I fancy
+she has&mdash;" he stopped short, and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what then&mdash;what then?" cried George Delawarr.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be time enough to decide <i>then</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"And so say I, St. George. Meanwhile, I too will amuse myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay! but observe this special difference&mdash;what is fun to <i>you</i>
+may be death to <i>her</i>, for she <i>has</i> a heart, and a fine, and true,
+and deep one; may be death to yourself&mdash;for you, too, are
+honorable, and true, and noble; and that is why I love you, George,
+and why I speak to you thus, at the risk of being held meddlesome or
+impertinent."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never, never!" exclaimed Delawarr, moving his horse closer up to
+him, and grasping his hand warmly, "never! You meddlesome or
+impertinent! Let me hear no man call you so. But I will think of this.
+On my honor, I will think of this that you have said!"</p>
+
+<p>And he did think of it. Thought of it often, deeply&mdash;and the more
+he thought, the more he loved Blanche Fitz-Henry.</p>
+
+<p>Days, weeks, and months rolled on, and still those two young
+cavaliers were constant visiters, sometimes alone, sometimes with
+other gallants in their company, at Ditton-in-the-Dale. And ever
+still, despite his companion's warning, Delawarr lingered by the fair
+heiress' side, until both were as deeply enamored as it is possible
+for two persons to be, both single-hearted, both endowed with powerful
+intellect, and powerful imagination; both of that strong and energetic
+temperament which renders all impressions permanent, all strong
+passions immortal. It was strange that there should have been two
+persons, and there were but two, who discovered nothing of what was
+passing&mdash;suspected nothing of the deep feelings which possessed
+the hearts of the young lovers; while all else marked the growth of
+liking into love, of love into that absolute and over-whelming
+idolatry, which but few souls can comprehend, and which to those few
+is the mightiest of blessings or the blackest of curses.</p>
+
+<p>And those two, as is oftentimes the case, were the very two whom it
+most concerned to perceive, and who imagined themselves the quickest
+and the clearest sighted&mdash;Allan Fitz-Henry, and the envious
+Agnes.</p>
+
+<p>But so true is it that the hope is oft parent to the thought, and the
+thought again to security and conviction, that, having in the first
+instance made up his mind that Lord St. George would be a most
+suitable successor to the name of the family, and secondly, that he
+was engaged in prosecuting his suit to the elder daughter, her father
+gave himself no further trouble in the matter, but suffered things to
+take their own course without interference.</p>
+
+<p>He saw, indeed, that in public the viscount was more frequently the
+companion of Agnes than of Blanche; that there seemed to be a better
+and more rapid intelligence between them; and that Blanche appeared
+better pleased with George Delawarr's than with the viscount's
+company.</p>
+
+<p>But, to a man blinded by his own wishes and prejudices, such evidences
+went as nothing. He set it down at once to the score of timidity on
+Blanche's part, and to the desire of avoiding unnecessary notoriety on
+St. George's; and saw nothing but what was perfectly natural and
+comprehensible, in the fact that the younger sister and the familiar
+friend should be the mutual confidents, perhaps the go-betweens, of
+the two acknowledged lovers.</p>
+
+<p>He was in high good-humor, therefore; and as he fancied himself on the
+high-road to the full fruition of his schemes, nothing could exceed
+his courtesy and kindness to the young cornet, whom he almost
+overpowered with those tokens of affection and regard which he did
+not choose to lavish on the peer, lest he should be thought to be
+courting his alliance.</p>
+
+<p>Agnes, in the meantime, was so busy in the prosecution of her assault
+on Lord St. George's heart, on which she began to believe that she had
+made some permanent impression, that she was perfectly contented with
+her own position, and was well-disposed to let other people enjoy
+themselves, provided they did not interfere with her proceedings. It
+is true that, at times, in the very spirit of coquetry, she would
+resume her flirtation with George Delawarr, for the double purpose of
+piquing the viscount, and playing with the cornet's affections, which,
+blinded by self-love, she still believed to be devoted to her pretty
+self.</p>
+
+<p>But Delawarr was so happy in himself, that, without any intention of
+playing with Agnes, or deceiving her, he joked and rattled with her as
+<span class="pagenum">113</span>he would with a sister, and believing that she must understand their
+mutual situation, at times treated her with a sort of quiet fondness,
+as a man naturally does the sister of his betrothed or his bride,
+which effectually completed her hallucination.</p>
+
+<p>The consequence of all this was, that, while they were unintentionally
+deceiving others, they were fatally deceiving themselves likewise; and
+of this, it is probable that no one was aware, with the exception of
+St. George, who, seeing that his warnings were neglected, did not
+choose to meddle further in the matter, although keeping himself ready
+to aid the lovers to the utmost of his ability by any means that
+should offer.</p>
+
+<p>In the innocence of their hearts, and the purity of their young love,
+they fancied that what was so clear to themselves, must be apparent to
+the eyes of others; and they flattered themselves that the lady's
+father not only saw, but approved their affection, and that, when the
+fitting time should arrive, there would be no obstacle to the
+accomplishment of their happiness.</p>
+
+<p>It is true that Blanche spoke not of her love to her sister, for,
+apart from the aversion which a refined and delicate girl must ever
+feel to touching on that subject, unless the secret be teased or
+coaxed out of her by some near and affectionate friend, there had
+grown up a sort of distance, not coldness, nor dislike, nor distrust,
+but simply distance, and lack of communication between the sisters
+since the night of the birthday ball. Still Blanche doubted not that
+her sister saw and knew all that was passing in her mind, in the same
+manner as she read her heart; and it was to her evident liking for
+Lord St. George, and the engrossing claim of her own affections on all
+her thoughts, and all her time, that she attributed her carelessness
+of herself.</p>
+
+<p>Deeply, however, did she err, and cruelly was she destined to be
+undeceived.</p>
+
+<p>The early days of autumn had arrived, and the woods had donned their
+many-colored garments, when on a calm, sweet evening&mdash;one of
+those quiet and delicious evenings peculiar to that
+season&mdash;Blanche and George Delawarr had wandered away from the
+gay concourse which filled the gardens, and unseen, as they believed,
+and unsuspected, had turned into the old labyrinth where first they
+had begun to love, and were wrapped in soft dreams of the near
+approach of more perfect happiness.</p>
+
+<p>But a quick, hard eye was upon them&mdash;the eye of Agnes; for, by
+chance, Lord St. George was absent, having been summoned to attend the
+king at Windsor; and being left to herself, her busy mind, too busy to
+rest for a moment idle, plunged into mischief and malevolence.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner did she see them turn aside from the broad walk than the
+cloud was withdrawn, as if by magic, from her eyes; and she saw almost
+intuitively all that had previously escaped her.</p>
+
+<p>Not a second did she lose, but stealing after the unsuspecting pair
+with a noiseless and treacherous step, she followed them, foot by
+foot, through the mazes of the clipped hornbeam labyrinth, divided
+from them only by the verdant screen, listening to every half-breathed
+word of love, and drinking in with greedy ears every passionate sigh.</p>
+
+<p>Delawarr's left arm was around Blanche's slender waist, and her right
+hand rested on his shoulder; the fingers of their other hands were
+entwined lovingly together, as they wandered onward, wrapped each in
+the other, unconscious of wrong on their own part, and unsuspicious of
+injury from any other.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, with rage in her eyes, with hell in her heart, Agnes
+followed and listened.</p>
+
+<p>So deadly was her hatred, at that moment, of her sister, so fierce and
+overmastering her rage, that it was only by the utmost exertion of
+self-control that she could refrain from rushing forward and loading
+them with reproaches, with contumely, and with scorn.</p>
+
+<p>But biting her lips till the blood sprang beneath her pearly teeth,
+and clinching her hands so hard that the nails wounded their tender
+palms, she did refrain, did subdue the swelling fury of her rebellious
+heart, and awaited the hour of more deadly vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>Vengeance for what? She had not loved George Delawarr&mdash;nay, she
+had scorned him! Blanche had not robbed her of her lover&mdash;nay, in
+her own thoughts, she had carried off the admirer, perhaps the future
+lover, from the heiress.</p>
+
+<p>She was the wronger, not the wronged! Then wherefore vengeance?</p>
+
+<p>Even, <i>therefore</i>, reader, because she had wronged her, and knew it;
+because her own conscience smote her, and she would fain avenge on the
+innocent cause, the pangs which at times rent her own bosom.</p>
+
+<p>Envious and bitter, she could not endure that Blanche should be loved,
+as she felt she was not loved herself, purely, devotedly, forever, and
+for herself alone.</p>
+
+<p>Ambitious, and insatiate of admiration, she could not endure that
+George Delawarr, once her captive, whom she still thought her slave,
+should shake off his allegiance to herself, much less that he should
+dare to love her sister.</p>
+
+<p>Even while she listened, she suddenly heard Blanche reply to some
+words of her lover, which had escaped her watchful ears.</p>
+
+<p>"Never fear, dearest George; I am sure that he has seen and knows
+all&mdash;he is the kindest and the best of fathers. I will tell him
+all to-morrow, and will have good news for you when you come to see me
+in the evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Never!" exclaimed the fury, stamping upon the ground
+violently&mdash;"by all my hopes of heaven, never!"</p>
+
+<p>And with the words she darted away in the direction of the hall as
+fast as her feet could carry her over the level greensward; rage
+seeming literally to lend her wings, so rapidly did her fiery passions
+spur her on the road to impotent revenge.</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes afterward, with his face inflamed with fury, his periwig
+awry, his dress disordered by the haste with which he had come up,
+Allan Fitz-Henry broke upon the unsuspecting lovers.</p>
+
+<p>Snatching his daughter rudely from the young man's half embrace, he
+<span class="pagenum">114</span>broke out into a torrent of terrible and furious invective, far more
+disgraceful to him who used it, than to those on whom it was vented.</p>
+
+<p>There was no check to his violence, no moderation on his tongue.
+Traitor, and knave, and low-born beggar, were the mildest epithets
+which he applied to the high-bred and gallant soldier; while on his
+sweet and shrinking child he heaped terms the most opprobrious, the
+most unworthy of himself, whether as a father or as a man.</p>
+
+<p>The blood rushed crimson to the brow of George Delawarr, and his hand
+fell, as if by instinct, upon the hilt of his rapier; but the next
+moment he withdrew it, and was cool by a mighty effort.</p>
+
+<p>"From you, sir, any thing! You will be sorry for this to-morrow!"</p>
+
+<p>"Never, sir! never! Get you gone! base domestic traitor! Get you gone,
+lest I call my servants, and bid them spurn you from my premises!"</p>
+
+<p>"I go, sir&mdash;" he began calmly; but at this moment St. George came
+upon the scene, having just returned from Windsor, eager, but, alas!
+too late, to anticipate the shameful scene&mdash;and to him did George
+Delawarr turn with unutterable anguish in his eyes. "Bid my men bring
+my horses after me, St. George," said he, firmly, but mournfully; "for
+me, this is no place any longer. Farewell, sir! you will repent of
+this. Adieu, Blanche, we shall meet again, sweet one."</p>
+
+<p>"Never! dog, never! or with my own hands&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! hush! for shame. Peace, Mister Fitz-Henry, these words are not
+such as may pass between gentlemen. Go, George, for God's sake! Go,
+and prevent worse scandal," cried the viscount.</p>
+
+<p>And miserable beyond all comprehension, his dream of bliss thus
+cruelly cut short, the young man went his way, leaving his mistress
+hanging in a deep swoon, happy to be for a while unconscious of her
+misery, upon her father's arm.</p>
+
+<p>Three days had passed&mdash;three dark, dismal, hopeless days.
+Delawarr did his duty with his regiment, nay, did it well&mdash;but he
+was utterly unconscious, his mind was afar off, as of a man walking in
+a dream. Late on the third night a small note was put into his hands,
+blistered and soiled with tears. A wan smile crossed his face, he
+ordered his horses at daybreak, drained a deep draught of wine,
+sauntered away to his own chamber, stopping at every two or three
+paces in deep meditation; threw himself on his bed, for the first time
+in his life without praying, and slept, or seemed to sleep, till
+daybreak.</p>
+
+<p>Three days had passed&mdash;three dark, dismal, hopeless days!
+Blanche was half dead&mdash;for she now despaired. All methods had
+been tried with the fierce and prejudiced old man, secretly prompted
+by that demon-girl&mdash;and all tried in vain. Poor Blanche had
+implored him to suffer her to resign her birthright in favor of her
+sister, who would wed to suit his wishes, but in vain. The generous
+St. George had offered to purchase for his friend, as speedily as
+possible, every step to the very highest in the service; nay, he had
+obtained from the easy monarch a promise to raise him to the peerage,
+but in vain.</p>
+
+<p>And Blanche despaired; and St. George left the Hall in sorrow and
+disgust that he could effect nothing.</p>
+
+<p>That evening Blanche's maid, a true and honest girl, delivered to her
+mistress a small note, brought by a peasant lad; and within an hour
+the boy went thence, the bearer of a billet, blistered and wet with
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>And Blanche crept away unheeded to her chamber, and threw herself upon
+her knees, and prayed fervently and long; and casting herself upon her
+painful bed, at last wept herself to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The morning dawned, merry and clear, and lightsome; and all the face
+of nature smiled gladly in the merry sunbeams.</p>
+
+<p>At the first peep of dawn Blanche started from her restless slumbers,
+dressed herself hastily, and creeping down the stairs with a cautious
+step, unbarred a postern door, darted out into the free air, without
+casting a glance behind her, and fled, with all the speed of mingled
+love and terror, down the green avenue toward the gay
+pavilion&mdash;scene of so many happy hours.</p>
+
+<p>But again she was watched by an envious eye, and followed by a jealous
+foot.</p>
+
+<p>For scarce ten minutes had elapsed from the time when she issued from
+the postern, before Agnes appeared on the threshold, with her dark
+face livid and convulsed with passion; and after pausing a moment, as
+if in hesitation, followed rapidly in the footsteps of her sister.</p>
+
+<p>When Blanche reached the summer-house, it was closed and untenanted;
+but scarcely had she entered and cast open the blinds of one window
+toward the road, before a hard horse-tramp was heard coming up at full
+gallop, and in an instant George Delawarr pulled up his panting
+charger in the lane, leaped to the ground, swung himself up into the
+branches of the great oak-tree, and climbing rapidly along its gnarled
+limbs, sprang down on the other side, rushed into the building, and
+cast himself at his mistress' feet.</p>
+
+<p>Agnes was entering the far end of the elm-tree walk as he sprang down
+into the little coplanade, but he was too dreadfully preoccupied with
+hope and anguish, and almost despair, to observe any thing around him.</p>
+
+<p>But she saw him, and fearful that she should be too late to arrest
+what she supposed to be the lovers' flight, she ran like the wind.</p>
+
+<p>She neared the doorway&mdash;loud voices reached her ears, but whether
+in anger, or in supplication, or in sorrow, she could not distinguish.</p>
+
+<p>Then came a sound that rooted her to the ground on which her flying
+foot was planted, in mute terror.</p>
+
+<p>The round ringing report of a pistol-shot! and ere its echo had begun
+to die away, another!</p>
+
+<p>No shriek, no wail, no word succeeded&mdash;all was as silent as the
+grave.</p>
+
+<p>Then terror gave her courage, and she rushed madly forward a few
+steps, then stood on the threshold horror-stricken.</p>
+
+<p>Both those young souls, but a few days before so happy, so beloved,
+and so loving, had taken their flight&mdash;whither?</p>
+<span class="pagenum">115</span>
+
+<p>Both lay there dead, as they had fallen, but unconvulsed, and graceful
+even in death. Neither had groaned or struggled, but as they had
+fallen, so they lay, a few feet asunder&mdash;her heart and his brain
+pierced by the deadly bullets, sped with the accuracy of his
+never-erring aim.</p>
+
+<p>While she stood gazing, in the very stupor of dread, scarce conscious
+yet of what had fallen out, a deep voice smote her ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Base, base girl, this is all your doing!" Then, as if wakening from a
+trance, she uttered a long, piercing shriek, darted into the pavilion
+between the gory corpses, and flung herself headlong out of the open
+window into the pool beneath.</p>
+
+<p>But she was not fated so to die. A strong hand dragged her
+out&mdash;the hand of St. George, who, learning that his friend had
+ridden forth toward Ditton, had followed him, and arrived too late by
+scarce a minute.</p>
+
+<p>From that day forth Agnes Fitz-Henry was a dull, melancholy maniac.
+Never one gleam of momentary light dispersed the shadows of her insane
+horror&mdash;never one smile crossed her lip, one pleasant thought
+relieved her life-long sorrow. Thus lived she; and when death at
+length came to restore her spirit's light, she died, and made no sign.</p>
+
+<p>Allan Fitz-Henry <i>lived</i>&mdash;a moody misanthropic man, shunning all
+men, and shunned of all. In truth, the saddest and most wretched of
+the sons of men.</p>
+
+<p>How that catastrophe fell out none ever knew, and it were useless to
+conjecture.</p>
+
+<p>They were beautiful, they were young, they were happy. The evil days
+arrived&mdash;and they were wretched, and lacked strength to bear
+their wretchedness. They are gone where ONE alone must judge
+them&mdash;may <span class="smcap">He</span> have pity on their weakness. <span class="smcap">Requiescant</span>!</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="pleiad" id="pleiad">THE LOST PLEIAD.</a></h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY HENRY B. HIRST.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+Beautiful sisters! tell me, do you ever<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dream of the loved and lost one, she who fell</span><br />
+And faded, in love's turbid, crimson river&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">The sacred secret tell?</span><br />
+Calmly the purple heavens reposed around her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And, chanting harmonies, she danced along;</span><br />
+Ere Eros in his silken meshes bound her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Her being passed in song.</span><br />
+<br />
+Once on a day she lay in dreamy slumber;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Beside her slept her golden-tongu&egrave;d lyre;</span><br />
+And radiant visions&mdash;fancies without number&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Filled breast and brain with fire.</span><br />
+She dreamed; and, in her dreams, saw, bending o'er her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A form her fervid fancy deified;</span><br />
+And, waking, viewed the noble one before her,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Who wooed her as his bride.</span><br />
+<br />
+What words&mdash;what passionate words he breathed, beseeching,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Have long been lost in the descending years:</span><br />
+Nevertheless she listened to his teaching,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Smiling between her tears.</span><br />
+And ever since that hour the happy maiden<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wanders unknown of any one but Jove;</span><br />
+Regretting not the lost Olympian Aidenn<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">In the Elysium&mdash;Love!</span><br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="sunset" id="sunset">SUNSET AFTER RAIN.</a></h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY ALFRED B. STREET.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+All day, with humming and continuous sound,<br />
+Streaking the landscape, has the slant rain fall'n;<br />
+But now the mist is vanishing; in the west<br />
+The dull gray sheet, that shrouded from the sight<br />
+The sky, is rent in fragments, and rich streaks<br />
+Of tenderest blue are smiling through the clefts.<br />
+A dart of sunshine strikes upon the hills,<br />
+Then melts. The great clouds whiten, and roll off,<br />
+Until a steady blaze of golden light<br />
+Kindles the dripping scene. Within the east,<br />
+The delicate rainbow suddenly breaks out;<br />
+Soft air-breaths flutter round; each tree shakes down<br />
+A shower of glittering drops; the woodlands burst<br />
+Into a chorus of glad harmony;<br />
+And the rich landscape, full of loveliness,<br />
+Fades slowly, calmly, sweetly, into night.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thus, sometimes, is the end of Human life.</span><br />
+In youth and manhood, sorrows may frown round;<br />
+But when the sun of Being lowly stoops,<br />
+The darkness breaks away&mdash;the tears are dried;<br />
+The Christian's hope&mdash;a rainbow&mdash;brightly glows,<br />
+And life glides sweet and tranquil to the tomb.<br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="montezuma" id="montezuma">MONTEZUMA MOGGS.</a></h3>
+<span class="pagenum">116</span>
+<h4>THAT WAS TO BE.</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY THE LATE JOSEPH C. NEAL.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<p>"Now, Moggs&mdash;you Moggs&mdash;good Moggs&mdash;dear Moggs," said
+his wife, running through the chromatic scale of matrimonial address,
+and modulating her words and her tones from irritation into
+tenderness&mdash;"yes, Moggs&mdash;that's a good soul&mdash;I do wish
+for once you would try to be a little useful to your family. Stay at
+home to-day, Moggs, can't you, while I do the washing? It would be so
+pleasant, Moggs&mdash;so like old times, to hear you whistling at your
+work, while I am busy at mine."</p>
+
+<p>And a smile of affection stole across the countenance of Mrs. Moggs,
+like a stray sunbeam on a cloudy day, breaking up the sharp and fixed
+lines of care into which her features had settled as a habitual
+expression, and causing her also to look as she did in the "old
+times," to which she now so kindly referred.</p>
+
+<p>"Wont you, Moggs?" added she, laying her hand upon his shoulder, "it
+would be so pleasant, dear&mdash;wouldn't it? I should not mind hard
+work, Moggs, if you were at work near me."</p>
+
+<p>There was a tear, perhaps, twinkling in the eye of the wife, giving
+gentleness to the hard, stony look which she in general wore, caused
+by those unceasing troubles of her existence that leave no time for
+weeping. Perpetual struggle hardens the heart and dries up the source
+of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Wont you, Moggs?"</p>
+
+<p>The idea of combined effort was a pleasant family picture to Mrs.
+Moggs, though it did involve not a little of toil. Still, to her
+loneliness it was a pleasant picture, accustomed as she had been to
+strive alone, and continually, to support existence. But it seems that
+perceptions of the pleasant and of the picturesque in such matters,
+differ essentially; and Moggs, glancing through the sentimental, and
+beyond it, felt determined, as he always did, to avoid the trouble
+which it threatened.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't be," responded Moggs, slightly shrugging his shoulder, as a
+hint to his wife that the weight of her hand was oppressive. "Can't
+be," continued he, as he set himself industriously&mdash;for in this
+Moggs was industrious&mdash;to the consumption of the best part of the
+breakfast that was before him&mdash;a breakfast that had been, as
+usual, provided by his wife, and prepared by her, while Montezuma
+Moggs was fast asleep&mdash;an amusement to which, next to eating,
+Montezuma Moggs was greatly addicted when at home, as demanding the
+least possible effort and exertion on his part. Montezuma Moggs, you
+see, was in some respects not a little of an economist; and, as a
+rule, never made his appearance in the morning until firmly assured
+that breakfast was quite ready&mdash;"'most ready," was too indefinite
+and vague for Montezuma Moggs&mdash;he had been too often tricked from
+comfort in that way before&mdash;people will so impose on one in this
+respect&mdash;envious people, who covet your slumbers&mdash;such as
+those who drag the covering off, or sprinkle water on the unguarded
+physiognomy. But Moggs took care, in the excess of his caution, that
+no time should be lost by him in a tedious interval of hungry
+expectation.</p>
+
+<p>"Say ready&mdash;quite ready&mdash;and I'll come," muttered he, in
+that sleepy debate between bed and breakfast which often consumes so
+much of time; and his eyes remained shut and his mouth open until
+perfectly assured that all the preliminary arrangements had been
+completed. "Because," as Moggs wisely observed, "that half hour before
+breakfast, reflecting on sausages and speculating on coffee, if there
+is sausages and coffee, frets a man dreadful, and does him more harm
+than all the rest of the day put together."&mdash;Sagacious Moggs!</p>
+
+<p>Besides, Moggs has a great respect for himself&mdash;much more,
+probably, than he has for other people, being the respecter of a
+person, rather than of persons, and that person being himself. Moggs,
+therefore, disdains the kindling of fires, splitting wood, and all
+that, especially of frosty mornings&mdash;and eschews the putting on
+of kettles&mdash;well knowing that if an individual is in the way when
+the aid of an individual is required, there is likely to be a
+requisition on the individual's services. Montezuma Moggs understood
+how to "skulk;" and we all comprehend the fact that to "skulk"
+judiciously is a fine political feature, saving much of wear and tear
+to the body corporate.</p>
+
+<p>"Mend boots&mdash;mind shop&mdash;tend baby!&mdash;can't be," repeated
+Moggs, draining the last drop from his cup&mdash;"boots, shops and
+babies must mend, mind and tend themselves&mdash;I'm going to do
+something better than that;" and so Moggs rose leisurely, took his
+hat, and departed, to stroll the streets, to talk at the corners, and
+to read the bulletin-boards at the newspaper offices, which, as Moggs
+often remarks, not only encourages literature, but is also one of the
+cheapest of all amusements&mdash;vastly more agreeable than if you
+paid for it.</p>
+
+<p>It was a little shop, in one of the poorer sections of the city, where
+Montezuma Moggs resided with his family&mdash;Mrs. Moggs and five
+juveniles of that name and race&mdash;a shop of the miscellaneous
+order, in which was offered for sale a little, but a very little, of
+any thing, and every thing&mdash;one of those distressed looking
+<span class="pagenum">117</span>shops which bring a sensation of dreariness over the mind, and which
+cause a sinking of the heart before you have time to ask why you are
+saddened&mdash;a frail and feeble barrier it seems against penury and
+famine, to yield at the first approach of the gaunt enemy&mdash;a shop
+that has no aspect of business about it, but compels you to think of
+distraining for rent, of broken hearts, of sickness, suffering and
+death.</p>
+
+<p>It was a shop, moreover&mdash;we have all seen the like&mdash;with a
+bell to it, which rings out an announcement as we open the door, that,
+few and far between, there has been an arrival in the way of a
+customer, though it may be, as sometimes happens, that the bell, with
+all its untuned sharpness, fails to triumph over the din of domestic
+affairs in the little back-room, which serves for parlor, and kitchen,
+and hall, and proves unavailing to spread the news against the
+turbulent clamor of noisy children and a vociferous wife.</p>
+
+<p>But be patient to the last&mdash;even if the bell does prove
+insufficient to attract due attention to your majestic presence,
+whether you come to make purchases or to avail yourself of the
+additional proffer made by the sign appertaining to Moggs exclusively,
+relative to "Boots and shoes mended," collateral to which you observe
+a work-bench in the corner; still, be patient, and cause the energies
+of your heel to hold "wooden discourse" with the sanded floor, as
+emphatically you cry&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Shop!" and beat with pennies on the counter.</p>
+
+<p>Be patient; for, look ye, Mrs. Moggs will soon appear, with a flushed
+countenance and a soiled garb&mdash;her youngest hope, if a young
+Moggs is to be called a hope, sobbing loudly on its mother's shoulder,
+while the unawed pratlers within, carry on the war with increasing
+violence.</p>
+
+<p>"Shop!"</p>
+
+<p>"Comin'!&mdash;what's wanten?" is the sharp and somewhat discourteous
+reply, as Mrs. Moggs gives a shake of admonition to her peevish little
+charge, and turns half back to the riotous assemblage in the rear.</p>
+
+<p>Now, we ask it of you as a special favor, that you do not suffer any
+shadow of offence to arise at the dash of acerbity that may manifest
+itself in the tones of Mrs. Montezuma Moggs. According to our notion
+of the world, as it goes, she, and such as she, deserve rather to be
+honored than to provoke wrath by the defects of an unpolished and
+unguarded manner. She has her troubles, poor woman&mdash;gnawing
+cares, to which, in all likelihood, yours are but as the gossamer upon
+the wind, or as the thistle-down floating upon the summer breeze; and
+if there be cash in your pocket, do not, after having caused such a
+turmoil, content yourself with simply asking where Jones resides, or
+Jenkins lives. It would be cruel&mdash;indeed it would. True, Mrs.
+Moggs expects little else from one of your dashing style and elegant
+appearance. Such a call rarely comes to her but with some profitless
+query; yet look around at the sparse candies, the withering apples,
+and the forlorn groceries&mdash;specimens of which are affixed to the
+window-panes in triangular patches of paste and paper&mdash;speak they
+not of poverty? Purchase, then, if it be but a trifle.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Moggs, unluckily for herself, is possessed of a husband.
+Husbands, they say, are often regarded as desirable; and some of them
+are spoken of as if they were a blessing. But if the opinion of Mrs.
+Moggs were obtained on that score, it would probably be somewhat
+different; for be it known that the husband of Mrs. Moggs is of the
+kind that is neither useful nor ornamental. He belongs to that
+division which addicts itself mainly to laziness&mdash;a species of
+the biped called husband, which unfortunately is not so rare that we
+seek for the specimen only in museums. We know not whether Montezuma
+Moggs was or was not born lazy; nor shall we undertake to decide that
+laziness is an inherent quality; but as Mrs. Moggs was herself a
+thrifty, painstaking woman, as women, to their credit be it spoken,
+are apt to be, her lazy husband, as lazy husbands will, in all such
+cases, continued to grow and to increase in laziness, shifting every
+care from his own broad shoulders to any other shoulders, whether
+broad or narrow, strong or wreak, that had no craven shrinkings from
+the load, Moggs contenting himself in an indolence which must be seen
+to be appreciated by those&mdash;husbands or wives&mdash;who perform
+their tasks in this great work-shop of human effort with becoming zeal
+and with conscientious assiduity, regarding laziness as a sin against
+the great purposes of their being. If this assumption be true, as we
+suspect it is, Montezuma Moggs has much to answer for; though it is a
+common occurrence, this falling back into imbecility, if there be any
+one at hand willing to ply the oar, as too often shown in the fact
+that the children of the industrious are willing to let their parents
+work, while the energetic wife has a drag upon her in the shape of a
+lounging husband.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, Mrs. Moggs belongs to the numerous class of women who have what
+is well called "a trying time of it." You may recognize them in the
+street, by their look of premature age&mdash;anxious, hollow-eyed, and
+worn to shadows. There is a whole history in every line of their
+faces, which tells of unceasing trouble, and their hard, quick
+movement as they press onward regardless of all that begirts the way,
+indicates those who have no thought to spare from their own immediate
+necessities, for comment upon the gay and flaunting world. Little does
+ostentation know, as it flashes by in satined arrogance and jeweled
+pride, of the sorrow it may jostle from its path; and perhaps it is
+happy for us as we move along in smiles and pleasantness, not to
+comprehend that the glance which meets our own comes from the
+bleakness of a withered heart&mdash;withered by penury's unceasing
+presence.</p>
+
+<p>Moggs is in fault&mdash;ay, Montezuma Moggs&mdash;what, he "mend
+boots, mind shop, tend baby," bringing down his lofty aspirations for
+the future to be cabined within the miserable confines of the present!</p>
+
+<p>"Hard work?" sneers Moggs&mdash;"yes, if a man sets himself down to
+hard work, there he may set&mdash;nothing else but hard work will ever
+<span class="pagenum">118</span>come to him&mdash;but if he wont do hard work, then something easier will be
+sure to come toddlin' along sooner or later. What can ever find you
+but hard work if you are forever in the shop, a thumpin' and a
+hammerin'? Good luck never ventures near lap-stones and straps. I
+never saw any of it there in the whole course of my life; and I'm
+waitin' for good luck, so as to be ready to catch it when it comes
+by."</p>
+
+<p>Montezuma Moggs had a turn for politics; and for many a year he
+exhibited great activity in that respect, believing confidently that
+good luck to himself might grow from town-meetings and elections; and
+you may have observed him on the platform when oratory addressed the
+"masses," or on the election ground with a placard to his button, and
+a whole handfull of tickets. But his luck did not seem to wear that
+shape; and politically, Montezuma Moggs at last took his place in the
+"innumerable caravan" of the disappointed. And thus, in turn, has he
+courted fortune in all her phases, without a smile of recognition from
+the blinded goddess. The world never knows its noblest sons; and
+Montezuma Moggs was left to sorrow and despair.</p>
+
+<p>Could he have been honored with a lofty commission, Montezuma Moggs
+might have set forth to a revel in the halls of his namesake; but as
+one of the rank and file, he could not think of it. And in private
+conversation with his sneering friend Quiggens, to whose captiousness
+and criticism Moggs submitted, on the score of the cigars occasionally
+derivable from that source, he ventured the subjoined remarks relative
+to his military dispositions:</p>
+
+<p>"What I want," said Moggs, "is a large amount of glory, and a bigger
+share of pay&mdash;a man like me ought to have plenty of
+both&mdash;glory, to swagger about with, while the people run into the
+street to stare at Moggs, all whiskers and glory&mdash;and plenty of
+pay, to make the glory shine, and to set it off. I wouldn't mind,
+besides, if I did have a nice little wound or two, if they've got any
+that don't hurt much, so that I might have my arm in a sling, or a
+black patch on my countenance. But if I was only one of the rank and
+file, I'm very much afraid I might have considerable more of knocks
+that would hurt a great deal, than I should of either the pay or the
+glory&mdash;that's what troubles me in the milentary way. But make me
+a gineral, and then, I'll talk to you about the matter&mdash;make me a
+gineral ossifer, with the commission, and the feathers, and the
+cocked-hat&mdash;plenty of pay, and a large slice of
+rations&mdash;there's nothing like rations&mdash;and then I'll talk to
+you like a book. Then I'll pledge you my lives, and my fortunes, and
+my sacred honors&mdash;all of 'em&mdash;that I will furnish the genus
+whenever it is wanted&mdash;genus in great big gloves, monstrous long
+boots, and astride of a hoss that scatters the little boys like
+Boston, whenever I touch the critter with my long spurs, to astonish
+the ladies. Oh, get out!&mdash;do you think I couldn't play gineral
+and look black as thunder, for such pay as ginerals get? I'd do it for
+half the money, and I'd not only do it cheaper, but considerable
+better than you ever see it done the best Fourth of July you ever met
+with. At present, I know I've not much rations, and no money at
+all&mdash;money's skurse&mdash;but as for genus&mdash;look at my
+eye&mdash;isn't genus there?&mdash;observation my nose&mdash;isn't it
+a Boneyparte?&mdash;aint I sevagerous about the mouth?&mdash;I tell
+you, Quiggens, there's whole lots of a hero in this little gentleman.
+I've so much genus that I can't work. When a man's genus is a workin'
+in his upper story, and mine always is, then his hands has to be idle,
+so's not to interrupt his genus."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," responded Quiggens, who is rather of the satirical turn, as one
+is likely to be who has driven the "Black Maria," and has thus found
+out that the world is all a fleeting show; "yes, you've got so much
+genus in your upper story that it has made a hole in the crown of your
+hat, so it can see what sort of weather is going on out of
+doors&mdash;and it 's your genus, I reckon, that's peeping out of your
+elbows. Why don't you ask your genus to patch your knees, and to mend
+the holes in your boots?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quiggens, go 'way, Quiggens&mdash;you're of the common natur',
+Quiggens&mdash;a vulgar fraction, Quiggens; and you can't understand
+an indiwidooal who has a mind inside of his hat, and a whole soul
+packed away under his jacket. You'll never rise, a flutterin' and a
+ringin' like a bald-headed eagle&mdash;men like you have got no wings,
+and can only go about nibblin' the grass, while we fly up and peck
+cherries from the trees. I'm always thinkin' on what I'm going to be,
+and a preparin' myself for what natur' intended, though I don't know
+exactly what it is yet. But I don't believe that sich a man as
+Montezuma Moggs was brought into the world only to put patches on
+shoes and to heel-tap people's boots. No, Quiggens&mdash;no&mdash;it
+can't be, Quiggens. But you don't understand, and I'll have to talk to
+my genus. It's the only friend I have."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you ask your genus to lend you a fip then, or see whether
+it's got any cigars to give away," replied Quiggs contemptuously, as
+he walked up the street, while Moggs, in offended majesty, stalked
+sulkily off in another direction.</p>
+
+<p>"I would go somewheres, if I only knew where to go to," soliloquized
+Moggs, as he strolled slowly along the deserted streets; "but when
+there's nowheres to go to, then I suppose a person must go
+home&mdash;specially of cold nights like this, when the thermometer is
+down as far as Nero, and acts cruel on the countenance. It's always
+colder, too, when there's nobody about but yourself&mdash;you get your
+own share and every body else's besides; and it's lucky if you're not
+friz. Why don't they have gloves for people's noses? I ought to have a
+carriage&mdash;yes, and horses&mdash;ay, and a colored gemman to drive
+'em, to say nothing of a big house warmed all over, with curtains to
+the windows. And why haven't I? Isn't Montezuma Moggs as good as
+anybody&mdash;isn't he as big&mdash;as full of genus? It's cold now, a
+footin' it round. But I'll wait&mdash;perhaps there's a good time
+comin', boys&mdash;there must be a good time, for there isn't any sort
+of times in the place where they keep time, which can be worse times
+than these times. But here's home&mdash;here's where you must go when
+<span class="pagenum">119</span>you don't know what to do with yourself. Whenever a man tells you he
+has nowheres to go to, or says he's goin' nowheres, that man's a
+crawlin' home, because he can't help it. Well, well&mdash;there's
+nothin' else to be did, and so somebody must turn out and let me in
+home."</p>
+
+<p>It appeared, however, that Montezuma Moggs erred in part in this
+calculation. It is true enough that he knocked and knocked for
+admission at the door of his domicile; but the muscular effort thus
+employed seemed to serve no other purpose than that of exercise. Tired
+with the employment of his hands in this regard, Moggs resorted to his
+feet&mdash;then tried his knee, and anon his back, after the usual
+desperate variety of such appeal resorted to by the "great locked
+out," when they become a little savage or so at the delay to which
+they are subjected. Sometimes, also, he would rap fiercely, and then
+apply his eye to the key-hole, as if to watch for the effect of his
+rapping. "I don't see 'em," groaned he. And then again, his ear would
+be placed against the lock&mdash;"I don't hear 'em either." There were
+moments when he would frantically kick the door, and then rush as
+frantically to the middle of the street, to look at the windows; but
+no sign of animation from within peered forth to cheer him. After full
+an hour of toil and of hope deferred, Montezuma Moggs tossed his arms
+aloft in despair&mdash;let them fall listlessly at his side, and then
+sat down upon the curb-stone to weep, while the neighbors looked upon
+him from their respective windows; a benevolent few, not afraid of
+catching cold, coming down to him with their condolements. None,
+however, offered a resting place to the homeless, unsheltered and
+despairing Moggs.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of his musings and mournings, as he sat chattering with
+cold, a loosened paving-stone arrested his attention; and, with the
+instinct of genius, which catches comfort and assistance from means
+apparently the most trivial, and unpromising in their aspect, the
+paving-stone seemed to impart an idea to Montezuma Moggs, in this "his
+last and fearfulest extremity." Grappling this new weapon in both his
+hands, he raised it and poised it aloft.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall make a ten-strike now," exclaimed he, as he launched the
+missile at the door with herculean force, and himself remained in
+classic attitude watching the effect of the shot, as the door groaned,
+and creaked, and splintered under the unwonted infliction. Still,
+however, it did not give way before this application of force, though
+the prospect was encouraging. The observers laughed&mdash;Moggs
+chuckled&mdash;the dogs barked louder than before; and indeed it
+seemed all round as if a new light had been cast upon the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Hongcore!" cried somebody.</p>
+
+<p>"I will," said Moggs, preparing to demonstrate accordingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop there," said the voice of Mrs. Montezuma Moggs, as she raised
+the window, "if you hongcore the door of this 'ere house again, I'll
+call the watch, to see what he thinks of such doings, I will. And now,
+once for all, you can't come in here to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't, indeed!&mdash;why can't I?&mdash;not come into my own house!
+Do you call this a free country, on the gineral average, if such
+rebellions are to be tolerated?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your house, Mr. Moggs&mdash;yours?&mdash;who pays the rent,
+Moggs&mdash;who feeds you and the children, Moggs&mdash;who finds the
+fire and every thing else? Tell us that?"</p>
+
+<p>This was somewhat of the nature of a home-thrust, and Moggs, rather
+conscience-stricken, was dumb-founded and appalled. Moggs was very
+cold, and therefore, for the time being, deficient in his usual pride
+and self-esteem, leaving himself more pervious to the assault of
+reproach from without and within, than he would have been in a more
+genial state of the atmosphere. No man is courageous when he is
+thoroughly chilled; and it had become painfully evident that this was
+not a momentary riot, but an enduring revolution, through the
+intermedium of a civil war.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho, ho!" faintly responded Moggs, though once more preparing to carry
+the citadel by storm, "I'll settle this business in a twinkling."</p>
+
+<p>Splash!</p>
+
+<p>Any thing but cold water in quantity at a crisis like this. Who could
+endure a shower-bath under such ungenial circumstances? Not Priessnitz
+himself. It is not, then, to be wondered at that Montezuma Moggs now
+quailed, having nothing in him of the amphibious nature.</p>
+
+<p>"Water is cheap, Mr. Moggs; and you'd better take keer. There's
+several buckets yet up here of unkommon cold water, all of which is at
+your service without charge&mdash;wont ask you nothin', Moggs, for
+your washin'; and if you're feverish, may be it will do you good."</p>
+
+<p>Everybody laughed, as you know everybody will, at any other body's
+misfortune or disaster. Everybody laughed but Moggs, and he shivered.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll sattinly ketch my death," moaned he; "I'll be friz, standing
+straight up, like a big icicle; or if I fall over when I'm friz, the
+boys will slide on me as they go to school, and call it fun as they go
+whizzing over my countenance with nails in their shoes, scratching my
+physimohogany all to pieces. They tell me that being friz is an easy
+death&mdash;that you go to sleep and don't know nothing about it. I
+wish they'd get their wives to slouse 'em all over with a bucket of
+water, on sich a night as this, and then try whether it is easy. Call
+being friz hard an easy thing! I'd rather be biled any time. What
+shill I do&mdash;what shill I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps they'll put you in an ice-house, and kiver you up with tan
+till summer comes&mdash;you'd be good for something then, which is
+more nor you are now," observed Mrs. Moggs from the window.</p>
+
+<p>"Quit twitting a man with his misfortunes," whined Montezuma, of the
+now broken-heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my duck!"</p>
+
+<p>"Y-e-e-s&mdash;y-e-e-s! that's it&mdash;I am a duck, indeed! but by
+morning I'll be only a snow-ball&mdash;the boys will take my head for
+a snow-ball. What shill I do&mdash;I guvs up, and I guvs in."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll tell you, Montezuma Moggs, what you must do to be thawed.
+<span class="pagenum">120</span>Promise me faithfully only to work half as hard as I do, and you may
+come to the fire&mdash;the ten-plate stove is almost red-hot. Promise
+to mend boots, mind shop, and tend baby; them's the terms&mdash;that's
+the price of admission."</p>
+
+<p>Hard terms, certainly&mdash;the severest of terms&mdash;but then hard
+terms, and severe terms, are good terms, if no other terms are to be
+had. One must do the best he can in this world, if it be imperative
+upon him to do something, as it evidently was in Moggs' case.</p>
+
+<p>"I promise," shivered Moggs.</p>
+
+<p>"Promise what?"</p>
+
+<p>"T-t-to tend baby, m-m-mind shop, and m-m-mend boots;" and the
+vanquished Moggs sank down exhausted, proving, beyond the possibility
+of doubt, that cold water, when skillfully applied of a cold night, is
+the sovereignest thing on earth for the cure of "genus" in its lazier
+branches.</p>
+
+<p>It is but justice, however, to state, that Moggs kept his word
+faithfully, in which he contradicted the general expectation, which,
+with reason enough in the main, places but little reliance on
+promises; and he became, for him, quite an industrious person. His
+wife's buckets served as a continual remembrancer. But Mrs. Moggs
+never exulted over his defeat; and, though once compelled to
+harshness, continued to be to Montezuma a most excellent wife. The
+shop looks lively now&mdash;and the bell to the door is removed; for
+Moggs, with his rat-tat-tat, is ever at his post, doing admired
+execution on the dilapidated boots and shoes. The Moggses prosper, and
+all through the efficacy of a bucket of cold water. We should not
+wonder if, in the end, the Moggs family were to become rich, through
+the force of industry, and without recourse to "genus."</p>
+
+<p>"Politics and me has shuck hands forever," said the repentant Moggs.
+"I've been looking out and expecting loaves and fishes long enough.
+Loaves, indeed! Why I never got even a cracker, unless it was aside of
+the ear, when there was a row on the election ground; and as for
+fishes, why, if I'd stopped any longer for them to come swimming up to
+my mouth, all ready fried, with pepper on 'em, I wouldn't even have
+been decent food for fishes myself. I never got a nibble, let alone a
+bite; but somebody else always cotch'd the fish, and asked me to carry
+'em home for them. Fact is, if people wont wote for me, I wont wote
+for people. And as for the milentary line, I give up in a gineral way,
+all idea of being a gineral ossifer. Bonyparte is dead, and if my
+milentary genus was so great that I couldn't sleep for it, who'd hunt
+me up and put me at the head of affairs? No, if I'm wanted for any
+thing, they'll have to call me. I've dodged about winkin' and noddin'
+as long as the country had any right to expect, and
+now&mdash;rat-tat-tat&mdash;I'm going to work for myself."</p>
+
+<p>It was a wise conclusion on the part of Moggs, who may, perchance, in
+this way, be a "gineral" yet.</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="confession" id="confession">THE BRIDE'S CONFESSION.</a></h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY ALICE G. LEE.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+A sudden thrill passed through my heart,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wild and intense&mdash;yet not of pain&mdash;</span><br />
+I strove to quell quick, bounding throbs,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And scanned the sentence o'er again.</span><br />
+It might have been full idly penned<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">By one whose thoughts from love were free,</span><br />
+And yet as if entranced I read<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Thou art most beautiful to me."</span><br />
+<br />
+Thou didst not whisper I was loved&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There were no gleams of tenderness,</span><br />
+Save those my trembling heart <i>would</i> hope<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That careless sentence might express.</span><br />
+But while the blinding tears fell fast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Until the words I scarce could see,</span><br />
+There shone, as through a wreathing mist,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Thou art most beautiful to me."</span><br />
+<br />
+To thee! I cared not for all eyes<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So I was beautiful in thine!</span><br />
+A timid star, my faint, sad beams<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Upon <i>thy</i> path alone should shine.</span><br />
+Oh what was praise, save from thy lips&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And love should all unheeded be</span><br />
+So I could hear thy blessed voice<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Say&mdash;"Thou art beautiful to me."</span><br />
+<br />
+And I <i>have heard</i> those very words&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Blushing beneath thine earnest gaze&mdash;</span><br />
+Though thou, perchance, hadst quite forgot<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They had been said in by-gone days.</span><br />
+While clasp&egrave;d hand, and circling arm,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Drew me nearer still to thee&mdash;</span><br />
+Thy low voice breathed upon mine ear<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Thou, love, art beautiful to me."</span><br />
+<br />
+And, dearest, though thine eyes alone<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">May see in me a single grace&mdash;</span><br />
+I care not so thou e'er canst find<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A hidden sweetness in my face.</span><br />
+And if, as years and cares steal on,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Even that lingering light must flee,</span><br />
+What matter! if from thee I hear<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Thou art <i>still</i> beautiful to me!"</span><br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="night" id="night">SONNET TO NIGHT.</a></h3>
+
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh! look, my love, as over seas and lands</span><br />
+Comes shadowy Night, with dew, and peace, and rest;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">How every flower clasps its folded hands</span><br />
+And fondly leans apon her faithful breast.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">How still, how calm, is all around us now,</span><br />
+From the high stars to these pale buds beneath&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Calm, as the quiet on an infant's brow</span><br />
+Rocked to deep slumber in the lap of death.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh! hush&mdash;move not&mdash;it is a holy hour</span><br />
+And this soft nurse of nature, bending low,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lists, like the sinless pair in Eden's bower,</span><br />
+For angels' pinions waving to and fro&mdash;<br />
+Oh, sacred Night! what mysteries are thine<br />
+Graven in stars upon thy page divine.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">gretta</span>.<br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="pauline" id="pauline">PAULINE DUMESNIL.</a></h3>
+<span class="pagenum">121</span>
+<h4>OR A MARRIAGE DE CONVENANCE.</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY ANGELE DE V. HULL.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+The reason firm, the temperate will,<br />
+Endurance, foresight, strength and skill<br />
+A perfect woman, nobly planned.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Wordsworth</span>.<br />
+</div><br />
+
+
+<p>In a large but somewhat scantily furnished apartment sat two young
+girls, in such earnest and apparently serious conversation that, but
+for their youthful and blooming countenances, one might have fancied
+them bending beneath the cares and sorrows of age. On the dark old
+table between them rested a magnificent work-box, whose rich
+implements they had been busily and skillfully using; but now the
+scissors and thread lay at their feet, their needles were dropped, and
+the younger of the two sat with clasped hands, while her companion's
+low tones appeared to awaken every emotion of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>On the old-fashioned French bedstead were thrown dresses of various
+hues and expensive stuffs, while one only, a robe of the most delicate
+material, its graceful folds looped with orange flowers, seemed to
+attract the attention of the fair, fragile being, whose attitude was
+one of intense suffering. Her bright hopes had faded at sight of that
+colorless garb, and the bridal wreath was to wither on her brow! What
+to her sad soul were the costly things before her? The jewels that
+sparkled on their snow-white satin case, the long fairy veil of
+beautiful lace that lay side by side with the bridal dress?</p>
+
+<p>Her companion continued speaking, and she bowed her face upon those
+clasped hands, while her slight frame shook with its contending
+emotions. A few moments more and she raised her head. She was pale,
+and her large, dark eyes dilated into fearful size. At length the big
+drops came slowly down her cheek, and she was able to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"No more, Angela, no more! You love me, I know; but what you have done
+to day was no act of friendship. You have troubled the dark waters of
+my soul until they have become a torrent over which I have no
+control."</p>
+
+<p>"And it is because I love you, Pauline, that I have made your future
+life manifest to you. Do not seek to make a merit of obedience to your
+proud mother's will. It is because you have been taught to fear her,
+that you have consented to perjure yourself, and marry a man you
+cannot love."</p>
+
+<p>"For the love of heaven, spare me!" cried the girl, shrinking from her
+friend's words, "Is it to triumph over me that you thus seek to move
+me?"</p>
+
+<p>Her friend gazed mournfully upon her, and rising from her seat, gently
+put her arm around her.</p>
+
+<p>"My poor Pauline! my dear Pauline!" murmured she, "I have been
+cruel&mdash;forgive me."</p>
+
+<p>Her answer was a fervent embrace&mdash;and throwing their arms round
+one another, they wept in silence.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the door opened, and a lady entered. She was tall and
+majestic, but there was an expression of pride and extreme hauteur on
+her countenance. She wore a handsome but faded dress, and the somewhat
+high-crowned cap bespoke a love of former fashions. She had a foreign
+air, and when she addressed her daughter, it was in French.</p>
+
+<p>"How is this!" cried she, angrily. "What scenes are these, Pauline? As
+often as I enter your room I find you in tears. Is it to your advice,
+Mademoiselle Percy, that my daughter owes her red eyes?"</p>
+
+<p>Angela was about to reply, but Pauline waved her back.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it, then, a crime to weep, mamma? If there were no tears, the
+heart would break."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a crime, Pauline, to resist the will of your mother, when she
+has provided for your happiness in a manner suitable to your rank and
+birth. It is a crime to break the fifth commandment, which tells you
+to honor and obey your mother."</p>
+
+<p>"And have I not done both," cried Pauline, indignantly. "Have you not
+sold my happiness? Have you not bartered perhaps my eternal welfare,
+that I might lay my aching head upon the downy pillows of the rich,
+that you might see me a wretched slave, writhing under chains not the
+less heavy because they are of gold?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been reading Racine this morning? Or have you been studying
+for the stage?" said Madame Dumesnil, in a cold, scornful tone. "You
+are a good actress, certainly."</p>
+
+<p>Pauline sank upon a chair, and her friend stood beside her, pressing
+her trembling hand. Her mother advanced and stood before her.</p>
+
+<p>"We will have no more of this, Pauline. If I feel satisfied that my
+duty is done, you should rejoice in obeying me. I alone am the judge
+in this matter&mdash;children should ever be contented with allowing
+their parents to act for them; and allow me to say, that any
+interference of strangers upon an occasion like this, is exceedingly
+misplaced."</p>
+
+<p>This was aimed at Angela Percy; but she only replied by a wondering
+and mournful gaze to the stern, cold woman before her. The old lady
+proceeded.</p>
+
+<p>"Bathe your eyes, Pauline, and arrange your hair. Monsieur de
+Vaissiere is below. Perhaps," added she, with a sneer, "perhaps that
+Miss Percy will assist you in entertaining your lover."</p>
+<span class="pagenum">122</span>
+
+<p>Pauline started and shuddered, but by this time she had again yielded
+to her mother's influence. Going to the glass, she smoothed her dark
+hair, and endeavored to abate the swelling of her eyes. Bidding
+farewell to her friend, she descended to the parlor, where her
+affianced husband awaited her.</p>
+
+<p>He was tall, and his appearance <i>distingu&eacute;</i>; but he, too, looked stern
+and cold as he rose to meet that young creature, whose nineteen
+summers were more than doubled by his years. He was handsome also; but
+where was the youthful ardor that should have been roused at the idea
+of winning that fair girl's love? Where were the sunny hopes to meet
+hers, the dreams of the future that <i>he</i> wanted? His willingness to
+accept the sacrifice was no proof of his gentleness; and the cheek of
+his betrothed grew pale, and her hand was cold, as he led her to a
+seat.</p>
+
+<p>Pauline had been bred to the hard forcing-school of the <i>ancien
+r&eacute;gime</i>. Her mother had left France on the terrible death of her
+beloved queen, Marie Antoinette, and had passed from the high post of
+<i>dame d'honneur</i>, to poverty and exile in America. The sale of her
+magnificent jewels and massive silver, had enabled her to lease an old
+roomy mansion, deserted by its owners, and to live in peace and
+retirement. Here, with the recollection of the horrors of the
+revolution fresh within her memory, while her heart was still bleeding
+with the wounds it had received; while she still had before her the
+mangled remains of her sovereigns&mdash;the bleeding head of her
+husband, torn from her in the days of their early love; in the midst
+of these agonizing thoughts, she gave birth to a posthumous
+child&mdash;the heroine of our story. Clasping her babe to her breast,
+Madame Dumesnil bitterly recalled the many plans of happiness her
+murdered husband had made in anticipation of its coming&mdash;his
+affection for <i>her</i>&mdash;his anxiety for her safety&mdash;their
+parting, and the subsequent news of his execution. Those lips were
+mute whose words of tenderness were to soothe her in her hour of
+suffering; that hand was cold that would have rested on her brow; that
+heart was still that would have bounded with a father's love at sight
+of the tiny, helpless creature that lay upon her arm.</p>
+
+<p>Madame Dumesnil, the young, the lovely, and the gentle, became silent,
+reserved, and harsh. Nothing could swerve her from a determination
+made, and with feelings of the deepest parental affection for her
+daughter, she had crushed and broken her spirit in the sweet
+spring-time of her childhood.</p>
+
+<p>From the time Pauline was old enough to form a desire, she learned to
+hear it opposed. "<i>Une petite fille attend qu'on lui donne se qui lui
+faut</i>," was the invariable reply to all her childish longings.
+According to the old French system, every slight offence was followed
+by her mother's "<i>Allez vous coucher, mademoiselle</i>;" so that half her
+life was spent in bed, while she lay awake with the bright, broad
+daylight around her, the hour when other children are strengthening
+their little limbs in the active enjoyment of God's free, fresh air.</p>
+
+<p>As she grew older, she was taught that "<i>une demoiselle bien elev&eacute;e
+n'a pas d'opinions</i>," that her parents judged and decided for her;
+and while she sat erect upon a high stool, accomplishing her daily
+tasks in silence, her heart nearly burst with the pent-up feelings of
+her young imagination. Wherever she went her mother's old
+waiting-woman was behind her. "Miss Pauline, hold yourself straight;
+Miss Pauline, turn out your feet&mdash;your head,
+mademoiselle&mdash;your arms!" Poor girl! she was well-nigh distracted
+with these incessant admonitions.</p>
+
+<p>In her walks she met Angela Percy and her father. They had lately
+settled in the neighborhood, and having no acquaintances, gladly made
+advances to the timid Pauline. Nothing daunted by her shyness and
+reserve, Angela, some years her senior, persevered, and overcame it.
+She was an enthusiastic, high-minded girl, and soon pointed out to her
+companion new views and new ideas of the world from which she had been
+excluded. The intimacy was formed ere Madame Dumesnil could prevent
+it, and at the instances of old Jeannette, who begged that
+Mademoiselle Pauline might have a friend of her own age&mdash;some one
+to talk to, besides two old women, she consented to allow the
+friendship to continue, provided Jeannette were present at every
+interview. This was easily promised, but the nurse's stiff limbs were
+no match for the agile supple ones of her young charges. Day by day
+she loitered behind, while Pauline and Angela, with their arms
+entwined, continued in eager and undisturbed enjoyment of one
+another's society. Jeannette remarked a glow upon her young lady's
+cheek, and a light in her eye&mdash;new charms in her hitherto pale,
+resigned countenance; and, wiser than her mistress, concluded that the
+acquisition of a youthful friend was fast pouring happiness into her
+lonely heart.</p>
+
+<p>Three years passed in this pleasant intercourse, when the monotony of
+their lives was broken by the arrival of an old friend of Madame
+Dumesnil&mdash;a Monsieur de Vaissiere. When they had last met, she
+was in the morning of her beauty and bliss, he a handsome youth, for
+whom many a fair one had sighed, and in vain&mdash;as he was still
+unmarried. What a change! He could not recognize the lovely young
+countess, whose marriage had been attended with so much &eacute;clat&mdash;so
+many rejoicings; nor could she see one vestige of the blooming
+countenance, the delicate profile, and the jet-black wavy locks that
+once shaded his fair, open brow. But these works of time were soon
+forgotten, and the desire of the proud, harsh mother was accomplished
+when, after a few weeks, M. de Vaissiere proposed for the hapless
+Pauline. Unconsciously, but with the thoughtlessness of selfishness,
+Madame Dumesnil sacrificed her child to her prejudices. M. de
+Vaissiere's opinions and <i>hers</i> were the same; their admiration of <i>le
+vieux systeme</i>&mdash;their fond recollection of the unfortunate
+monarch, whose weakness they had never reproached him with, even in
+their secret souls&mdash;their abhorrence of Bonaparte&mdash;their
+contempt for <i>la noblesse Napoleonne</i>&mdash;their upturned noses at
+their adopted countrymen, <i>les Americains</i>&mdash;their want of faith
+in hearts and love&mdash;the sinecure-ism of young people&mdash;their
+presumption&mdash;their misfortune being that they <i>were</i> young and
+<span class="pagenum">123</span>not born old&mdash;and finally, the coincidence of opinions wherein
+both looked upon the white-headed suitor as a most eligible husband
+for the young, the blooming, the beautiful Pauline.</p>
+
+<p>M. de Vaissiere settled a <i>dot</i> upon his <i>fianc&eacute;e</i>, and ordered a
+<i>trousseau</i> and a <i>corbeille</i>, not forgetting the <i>cachemire</i>. The
+preliminaries were arranged, the day hinted at, and Pauline was
+informed with a flourish of trumpets that her destiny was fixed.</p>
+
+<p>She listened to her mother's rhapsodies over the admirable <i>parti</i>
+Providence had enabled her to provide for her child in the wilderness
+of America; she heard her enlarge upon her own excellence as a parent,
+of the favor she had conferred upon her in bringing her into the
+world; of her consequent obligations, and the gratitude she owed her
+mother when she recollected that not content with giving her life, she
+had clothed, fed, and supported her until now. All this Pauline
+received in a silence that resembled stupor; but when M. de Vaissiere
+was again mentioned, she fell, with a scream of terror, at her
+mother's feet.</p>
+
+<p>In vain she wept and entreated; in vain she protested against the
+disparity of age, the utter want of congeniality, the absence of all
+affection, Madame Dumesnil was too much incensed to reply. With a
+gesture that Pauline well understood, (for it was used to express
+maledictions of every description,) she left the room, and locking the
+door, kept her daughter prisoner for the rest of the day.</p>
+
+<p>She treated this resistance to her will as one of the unhappy
+consequences of living in a republican country. She suspected Angela
+of communicating American ideas of independence to her daughter, and
+would have added to her wretchedness by forbidding further intercourse
+between the two friends. But Jeannette again interfered; she knew that
+Pauline's doom was sealed, and that it would be more than cruel to
+deprive her of the companion she loved. She herself carried the note
+that conveyed the intelligence of Pauline's coming fate to the
+indignant Angela, and extended her walks that her poor young lady
+might derive what consolation she could from her friend's willing
+sympathy. Many were the tears she shed, many the sighs that burst from
+her oppressed heart, as the poor old creature followed behind them.
+Once she had summoned courage sufficient to expostulate with her
+mistress upon the cruelty of her conduct to her daughter; but she was
+haughtily dismissed.</p>
+
+<p>Every effort had been made, and at length Angela appealed to Pauline.
+She entreated her to be more firm, and to declare her resolution never
+to marry where she could not love.</p>
+
+<p>"Rouse yourself, Pauline&mdash;the misery of a lifetime is before you,
+and it is not yet too late."</p>
+
+<p>"I have done every thing, Angela," said Pauline, despairingly. "My
+doom is sealed, and I must bend to my bitter fate. I would fly, but
+that I could not survive my mother's curse."</p>
+
+<p>"The curse of the unrighteous availeth naught," replied her friend,
+solemnly. "Were you wrongfully opposing your mother's will, mine
+would be the last voice to uphold you; but now your very soul is at
+stake."</p>
+
+<p>Pauline cast up her eyes in mute appeal to heaven. Her companion
+became excited as she proceeded, depicting the horrors of an unequal
+marriage. Pale and exhausted, her listener at length entreated her to
+forbear. She had been too long the slave of her mother's wishes to
+oppose them now; she had been drilled into fear until it was a
+weakness. This her bold-hearted, energetic friend could not
+understand; and it was on her reproaching Pauline with moral cowardice
+that she, for the first time, resented what had in fact been patiently
+borne.</p>
+
+<p>We have seen how kindly Angela forgave the accusation, and how she
+wept over the effect of her words. The sudden entrance of Madame
+Dumesnil put an end to the conversation, and the friends separated.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Angela was at Pauline's side again. Silently she
+assisted in decorating the victim for the sacrifice. The bright jewels
+clasped her arm and neck; the long veil hung around her slender form;
+the orange wreath rested on the dark, dark tresses&mdash;and the dress
+was beautiful. But the bride! she was pale and ghastly, and her lips
+blue and quivering. Her eyes were void of all expression&mdash;those
+liquid, lustrous eyes; and ever and anon the large drops rolled over
+her face, oozing from the depths of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Jeannette turned away, sobbing convulsively as the finishing
+touches were given to this sad bridal toilette. Angela remained firm
+and collected, but she, too, was pale; her cherished companion was
+gone from her forever&mdash;gone in such misery, too, that she almost
+prayed to see her the corpse she at that moment resembled.</p>
+
+<p>Madame Dumesnil had remained below with the bridegroom and Mr. Percy,
+the sole witness to this ill-omened marriage. At length the hour came,
+Pauline was nearly carried down by Angela and Jeannette, and in a few
+moments bound forever to a man she loathed. The ceremony was ended,
+and the bride, with a convulsive sigh, fell back into the arms of her
+mother. Restoratives were procured, and at last she opened her eyes.
+They rested on the face of her friend, who hung over her in mute
+agony. Forcing a smile, which was taken by M. de Vaissiere for
+himself, Pauline arose, and hurried through her farewell. Her husband
+handed her into his carriage&mdash;and thus Pauline Dumesnil left her
+friends and her home.</p>
+
+<hr class="long" />
+
+<p>Years had passed, and Pauline sat alone in her magnificent boudoir,
+the presiding deity of one of the finest hotels in Paris. Fortune had
+favored M. de Vaissiere. He had lived to rejoice over the downfall of
+the mighty Napoleon, and his mournful exile. He had returned to his
+beloved France, recovered his vast estates, and presented his young
+wife at court. His vanity was flattered at her gracious reception, and
+the admiration that followed her; his pride was roused, and, much
+against her will, Pauline found herself the centre of a gay circle
+<span class="pagenum">124</span>that crowded her vast saloons as often as they were thrown open for
+the reception of her now numerous acquaintances.</p>
+
+<p>It was on one of these evenings that Pauline sought the silence of her
+private apartment ere she gave herself up to her femme de chambre. Her
+loose <i>peignoir</i> of white satin was gathered round her, with a crimson
+cord tied negligently at the waist, and hanging, with its rich tassels
+of silver mixed, to the ground. Her hair had fallen over her
+shoulders, giving her a look of sadness that increased her beauty. Her
+eyes wandered around the room, and her lips parted into a melancholy
+smile, as she contemplated its delicate silk hangings, its heavy,
+costly furniture, her magnificent toilette, crowded with perfumes of
+every description, beautiful flacons, silver combs, and jewels that
+sparkled in and out of their cases. Her thoughts went back to her
+mother, whose pride had made her a childless, lonely widow; to Angela,
+whom she had so loved; to the misery of the day upon which they
+parted, perhaps forever&mdash;and her eyes were filled with tears
+that, rolling at length over her cheek, startled her as they fell upon
+her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"And it was for this that I was sacrificed," murmured she, bending her
+head. "My poor mother! could you see me here, <i>you</i> would feel that my
+happiness is secure; but, alas! how little you know of the human
+heart. This splendor lends weight to my chains, and makes me feel more
+desolate than ever! Night after night mingling in gay crowds,
+listening to honied words that fall unheeded on my ear; wearing smiles
+that come not from the heart, but help to break it; exposed to
+temptation, that makes me fear to mix with those of my own age; bound
+forever to a man whose only sentiment for me is one of
+pride&mdash;what part of happiness is mine?"</p>
+
+<p>A sudden step aroused her, and her husband entered unannounced. He
+looked but little older. Time had dealt lightly with <i>him</i>, and with
+the aid of cosmetics and a perfect toilette, M. de Vaissiere stood a
+remarkable looking man&mdash;for his age.</p>
+
+<p>"How is this, madame&mdash;not dressed yet! Have you no anxiety to see
+Mademoiselle Mars to night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have, indeed," said Pauline, starting up and forcing a smile. "Is
+it so late, that I see you ready?"</p>
+
+<p>"You must hasten Marie, or we shall be too late. How provoking! What
+can you do with that dishevelled hair? You have a bad habit of
+thinking&mdash;that is actually sinful. Why do you not take my
+example; I never reflect&mdash;it makes one grow old!"</p>
+
+<p>She might have told him how her young life was embittered by the
+memory of days that were gone never to return; how she had grown old
+with thinking, and wore but the semblance of youth over a withered
+heart. But she had schooled herself to serenity with an effort almost
+superhuman&mdash;and seizing a silver bell at her side, she rang for
+her waiting woman.</p>
+
+<p>"You must hasten, Marie&mdash;Monsieur de Vaissiere is already
+dressed. Bind up this hair beneath some net-work, my good girl; I have
+no time for embellishing this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Madame is more beautiful without her usual coiffure," said the girl,
+as she gathered up the dark tresses of her mistress. "I shall place
+her diamond <i>aigrette</i> in her hair, and she will turn all heads."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no such ambition, my good Marie," said Pauline, laughing.
+"Give me my fan and gloves, and fasten this bracelet for me."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Tenez, madame</i>," said Marie, handing them; and Pauline ran down
+stairs, where her husband awaited her. He had just been fretted
+sufficiently to find fault with her dress.</p>
+
+<p>"You never wear jewels enough. Do you think I bought them to ornament
+your boudoir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not like to keep you waiting, <i>mon ami</i>. Shall I return and
+tell Marie to give me my necklace?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and your bracelet to match. Your white arm, madame, was made to
+ornament," added M. de Vaissiere, assuming an air of gallantry.</p>
+
+<p>Pauline smiled, and ran back to her boudoir. In a few moments she
+returned blazing with jewels, inwardly lamenting the display, but ever
+ready to grant her husband's wish. He, too, smiled as she came
+forward, and taking her hand, led her to her carriage.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after they were seated, the door opened, and the young Vicomte
+de H&mdash;&mdash; entered the box. He placed himself behind Pauline, and
+remained there for the rest of the evening, in eager, animated
+conversation. He was not only one of the most agreeable men of the
+day, but added to wit and versatility of genius, a handsome face,
+graceful bearing, and a noble heart; and while Pauline yielded to the
+charms of so delightful a companion, full of the dreams and hopes of
+youth, uttering sentiments that years ago had been hers, her husband
+sat silent and moody beside her. A pang went through his heart as he
+gazed upon her bright countenance, and remembered her youth, whose
+sunshine was extinguished by her marriage with him. He looked at the
+smooth, full cheek of her companion, the purple gloss of his raven
+locks, the fire of his eye, and listening to his gay tones, his
+brilliant repartees, and enthusiastic expressions, pictured him with a
+shudder the husband of Pauline. What would have been her life compared
+to the one she led with him. How different would have been the bridal!
+He thought of her gentleness, her cheerful compliance with his wishes,
+her calm, subdued look, her lonely hours, the void that must be in her
+heart; and as all these things passed, for the first time, through his
+mind, he clasped his hands in despair.</p>
+
+<p>He turned once more to look upon the wife he was but now beginning to
+appreciate. She, too, had fallen in a revery. Her beautiful head was
+bent, her long, dark lashes sweeping her cheek; and around her lips
+played a smile so sweet, that though he know her thoughts were far
+away in some pleasant wandering, he was sure he had no part in them.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time since their wedded life, M. de Vaissiere was
+beginning to love his wife. He turned suddenly to look at the Vicomte
+de H&mdash;&mdash;. He, too, was gazing upon Pauline with a look of
+<span class="pagenum">125</span>intense admiration, but so full of pity and respect, that it made the
+jealous pang that thrilled through the husband's frame less
+bitter&mdash;and with a deep sigh he turned to the stage. The play was
+one that gave him a lesson for the rest of his days. It represented a
+young girl like his Pauline, forced to wed one, like him, old enough
+to be her father. For a while all went smoothly; the giddy wife was
+dazzled by her jewels and her importance. But time passed, and she was
+roughly treated, her every wish thwarted, and her very servants taught
+to disobey her. Her angelic behaviour had no effect upon her brutal
+husband; her patience exasperated him. Wickedly he exposed her to
+temptation; and as he watched her mingle with those of her own age,
+and share their plans and pleasures, suspicion entered his mind. He
+removed her far from her friends, and intercepted her letters, making
+himself master of their contents, until by a series of persecutions he
+drove her to fly from him, and perish in the attempt.</p>
+
+<p>Well for him was it that Monsieur de Vaissiere witnessed this play.
+How different might have been the effect of his newly awakened
+emotions, had they risen in the solitude of his apartment. The curtain
+fell, and Pauline looked up. Tears were standing in her eyes&mdash;for
+the fate of the heroine of the piece had affected her deeply, and her
+husband's sympathy was with her when he remarked them. He waited until
+he saw her give her arm to the vicomte, and walked behind them,
+another creature. He had determined to win his wife's love or die; to
+watch her, that he might warn her; to minister forever to her
+comforts.</p>
+
+<p>The vicomte returned with them, and soon the splendid salon was
+crowded with guests. Pauline passed from one to the other with
+graceful, winning smiles; and her husband's heart filled with pride
+and pleasure as he watched her, the object of admiration, glittering
+with diamonds, radiant with beauty, and remembered that she was his.
+Without a pang he saw the noble youth, whose coming had been to him
+salvation, lead her to supper, and seat himself at her side. He knew
+that she was pleased; he felt that she might have loved; but he knew,
+too, that she was as pure as an angel. How was it that suddenly her
+many virtues rose in array before him, and spoke to his heart?</p>
+
+<p>One evening Pauline stood at the window overlooking the garden that
+was behind the Hotel de Vaissiere. The moonlight was glancing over the
+tops of the orange trees, and the perfume of their white blossoms came
+floating up like an incense of thanks to the Great Author of all,
+while fountains played beneath their shade, falling musically on the
+heart of the lonely watcher.</p>
+
+<p>A shade was upon her brow&mdash;a shade of discontent; and busy were
+the thoughts that came creeping into her soul. She was judging her own
+heart&mdash;and bitterly did she reproach it as the image of another
+filled its space. Alas! she had feared this; and again she was roused
+into indignation as her mother's stern will was recalled to
+her&mdash;and she was carried back to the day whereon she had
+reproached her with hazarding the eternal welfare of her child.
+Throwing herself upon her knees, she prayed for strength&mdash;and her
+prayer was heard. Suddenly, as if struck with some impulse, she
+hurried from the window, through the hall, passed the long suite of
+apartments, and reached her husband's. Entering, she closed the door
+behind her, and rushed forward to M. de Vaissiere's chair with such
+passionate rapidity, that one might have thought she feared to fail in
+her resolution.</p>
+
+<p>Her sobs and tears had nearly deprived her of utterance, but falling
+at her husband's feet, she confessed the momentary infidelity of her
+hitherto love-less heart, and besought him to take her from those
+scenes of gayety and temptation to some distant, quiet region, that
+she might expiate her fault in solitude.</p>
+
+<p>Trembling she raised her eyes to his face. Instead of the fury, the
+reproaches she had expected, what was her surprise at seeing the tears
+coursing down his cheeks, to feel herself raised and clasped to his
+breast.</p>
+
+<p>"My poor child!" said he, tenderly&mdash;and it was the first time he
+had ever so addressed her&mdash;"my poor child! I should have foreseen
+this; I should have warned you ere now. It was your mother's fault to
+marry you to me, and mine to have placed temptation in your way. But
+how could I tear you from those whose years were suited to yours, to
+shut you up with an old greybeard! Thus, while I watched over you, my
+pride in your success made me forgetful of your safety. It is not yet
+too late, my Pauline&mdash;all will be for the best. In time you will
+learn to love your husband, and to know how devotedly he has loved you
+since his stupid eyes were opened to your virtues."</p>
+
+<p>With a smothered cry of joy Pauline threw herself upon his bosom. The
+poor stricken dove had at last found a shelter.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, while the whole world was lamenting and wondering over
+the determination of the beautiful, brilliant, and courted Pauline de
+Vaissiere, to leave the gay metropolis in the midst of its pleasure,
+she sat once more in her boudoir. A holy calm had settled on her brow,
+peace had entered her heart; and though a deep blush overspread her
+features as she heard her husband's step approaching, she rose to meet
+him with a grateful look. Putting his arm around her, he drew her
+closer to him, and pressed a kiss upon her forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"How many days of packing will you require, Pauline?" said he,
+smiling. "Poor Marie! she has nearly worn her arms out."</p>
+
+<p>"She will complete her task to-night; and if you like, we can be off
+in the morning. But have you the carriages ready, <i>mon ami</i>? Are we
+not before-hand with you?" asked Pauline, in the same cheerful strain.</p>
+
+<p>"We must summon Fran&ccedil;ois," said M. de Vaissiere, "and see if my orders
+have been executed."</p>
+
+<p>Fran&ccedil;ois had been as prompt as usual; and three days after, we found
+<span class="pagenum">126</span>Pauline gazing out at the windows, mournful and
+conscience-stricken&mdash;she was leaving Paris behind her as fast as
+four horses and cracking whips could carry her. As they drove on,
+losing sight of its towers and steeples, a sensation of freedom came
+over her, and she placed her hand in her husband's, as if to thank him
+for her safety. The wound upon her heart was not yet closed; but her
+firm principle, her love of right, and gratitude for her deliverance,
+and the indulgence of M. de Vaissiere were fast healing what she did
+not for a moment allow to rest within her mind.</p>
+
+<p>Every thing delighted her; the ploughed fields, divided by green
+hedges; the farm-houses scattered far and near; the picturesque
+appearance of the peasantry and their groupings, as they gathered
+together to watch the travelers' suite; and when they stopped at a
+family estate of M. de Vassiere, her enthusiasm knew no bounds.</p>
+
+<p>Here they remained until the spring was past and summer came,
+embellishing still more the beautiful woods around the little domain.
+But they lingered yet in this pleasant place, loving it for the peace
+it had given them, and the happiness they had learned to feel in being
+together.</p>
+
+<p>Leaning on her husband's arm, Pauline wandered amid the bright scenes
+with a light step, now stopping to admire some variety of foliage, and
+now pausing by the crystal stream that ran at the foot of the tall
+trees, murmuring like a hidden sprite, and mirroring the waving
+boughs, and the blue sky of <i>la belle France</i>. She had forgotten the
+misery of her bridal-day, or remembered it but to contrast her present
+quiet enjoyment of life with her then wretchedness. She had forgotten
+her youth of terror, her husband's years and his coldness, and now,
+when she looked upon the silver hair that glittered beside her braids
+of jet, a feeling of gratitude filled her heart, as she recalled the
+hour when he might have cast her off with some show of justice, and
+sent her forth upon the wide world to die.</p>
+
+<p>She had learned to love him, not with the heart-stirring love of youth
+for youth, but with the deep, holy affection of a prodigal child. Not
+all the temptations of the gay world could ever make her swerve from
+her allegiance to him. Like a good and pious daughter did she cling to
+him, providing for his comfort, and forseeing his every want.</p>
+
+<p>One day he called her to him as she returned from her visit of charity
+to the surrounding peasantry. She had wept over their troubles and
+relieved them, and rejoiced with the happy. Her heart was
+over-flowing, and passing the little church, she entered, and offered
+up a prayer of thankfulness for her own blessings, and those she was
+able to confer on others.</p>
+
+<p>Her husband watched her graceful form as she came at his call, and
+smilingly placed a letter in her hand. It was from her mother, and
+part of it ran thus:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"I am now very old, monsieur, and very infirm. I
+have often thought, in my lonely hours, of the unhappiness
+of my child on her marriage with you, and
+have doubted the wisdom of that authority which I
+exercised so severely over her. The vision of that
+pale, agonized countenance, comes upon me like a
+reproach; and although she has never hinted in one
+of her letters of unkindness from you, I have often
+thought that there was a mournful spirit pervading
+them. Pray God she may not be unhappy through
+my fault! I rely upon you, monsieur; be kind to my
+poor Pauline.</p></div>
+
+<div style="margin-left: 8em;" class="smcap">Marie Therese Clemence Dumesnil</div>.
+
+<span style="margin-left: 14em;">(<i>N&eacute;e de Villeneuve</i>.)</span>
+<br />
+
+<p>Pauline's tears fell fast over this letter; and as she finished
+reading it, she cast herself upon her husband's bosom.</p>
+
+<p>"She does not deserve a reply, does she, Pauline?" asked he, with a
+smile, and pressing her closer to him. "Think you there would be no
+more marriages <i>de convenance</i> if we were to give the benefit of our
+experience to the world? Would your mother even be sensible of her
+error, could she know how your suffering has ended&mdash;could she see
+how happy you make an old man."</p>
+
+<p>"Let her think that we have been always so," cried the noble Pauline.
+"Why disturb her last years with a narrative of what may embitter
+them? Shall it not be so, my dear, kind husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"It shall, my child," said he, touched by the generosity of her
+request. "And you, Pauline, shall write the answer&mdash;you, my
+patient, enduring, and admirable wife! Why is it that I alone know
+what you have suffered, forced thus to appreciate in silence your
+noble forbearance."</p>
+
+<p>But there was another letter to be read&mdash;one from Angela. It
+contained an account of Madame Dumesnil's failing strength, and her
+earnest desire to embrace her child once more. Jeannette was long
+since numbered with the dead; and Angela, whose devotion to her father
+had made her refuse every offer of marriage, removed with him to the
+abode of her friend's mother, passing her life in dividing her cares.</p>
+
+<p>But a short time elapsed and Pauline, with her husband, was sailing
+once more upon the broad bosom of the Atlantic. It was a long and
+tedious voyage; but she arrived in time to receive her mother's
+blessing, and close her eyes&mdash;the reward her filial piety had
+merited.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Percy soon followed his aged companion, and Angela returned with
+Pauline to France. Here she witnessed, with wonder and delight, the
+happiness that, through Pauline's virtue, was not incompatible with so
+great a disparity of age, and rejoiced when a few months after their
+arrival in Paris, Pauline gave birth to a son and heir. Nothing now
+was wanting to complete the domestic enjoyment of the circle gathered
+at the Hotel de Vaissiere; and while the same gay crowds graced its
+walls, and courted its fair mistress, Pauline never forgot to turn to
+her husband as the one whose smile was to her the brightest, whose
+praise the most valued, and whose approbation alone she loved and
+lived for.</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="hermit" id="hermit">THE HERMIT OF NIAGARA.</a></h3>
+<span class="pagenum">127</span>
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY MRS. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+It was the leafy month of June,<br />
+And joyous Nature, all in tune,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With wreathing buds was drest,</span><br />
+As toward the mighty cataract's side<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A youthful stranger prest;</span><br />
+His ruddy cheek was blanched with awe,<br />
+And scarce he seemed his breath to draw,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">While bending o'er its brim,</span><br />
+He marked its strong, unfathomed tide,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And heard its thunder-hymn.</span><br />
+<br />
+His measured week too quickly fled,<br />
+Another, and another sped,<br />
+And soon the summer-rose decayed,<br />
+The moon of autumn sank in shade,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And winter hurled its dart,</span><br />
+Years filled their circle, brief and fair,<br />
+Yet still the enthusiast lingered there,<br />
+While deeper round his soul was wove<br />
+A mystic chain of fearful love,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That would not let him part.</span><br />
+<br />
+When darkest midnight veiled the sky,<br />
+You'd hear his hasting step go by,<br />
+To gain the bridge beside the deep,<br />
+That where its wildest torrents leap<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hangs thread-like o'er the surge,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Just there, upon its awful verge,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">His vigil-hour to keep.</span><br />
+<br />
+And when the moon, descending low,<br />
+Hung on the flood that gleaming bow,<br />
+Which it would seem some angel's hand,<br />
+With Heaven's own pencil, tinged and spanned,<br />
+Pure symbol of a better land,<br />
+He, kneeling, poured in utterance free<br />
+The eloquence of ecstasy;<br />
+Though to his words no answer came,<br />
+Save that One, Everlasting Name,<br />
+Which since Creation's morning broke<br />
+Niagara's lip alone hath spoke.<br />
+<br />
+When wintry tempests shook the sky,<br />
+And the rent pine-tree hurtled by,<br />
+Unblenching, 'mid the storm he stood,<br />
+And marked sublime the wrathful flood,<br />
+While wrought the frost-king, fierce and drear,<br />
+His palace 'mid those cliffs to rear,<br />
+And strike the massy buttress strong,<br />
+And pile his sleet the rocks among,<br />
+And wasteful deck the branches bare<br />
+With icy diamonds, rich and rare.<br />
+<br />
+Nor lacked the hermit's humble shed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Such comforts as our natures ask</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To fit them for life's daily task.</span><br />
+The cheering fire, the peaceful bed,<br />
+The simple meal in season spread,<br />
+While by the lone lamp's trembling light,<br />
+As blazed the hearth-stone, clear and bright,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O'er Homer's page he hung,</span><br />
+Or Maro's martial numbers scanned&mdash;<br />
+<br />
+For classic lore of many a land<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Flowed smoothly o'er his tongue.</span><br />
+Oft with rapt eye, and skill profound,<br />
+He woke the entrancing viol's sound,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or touched the sweet guitar.</span><br />
+For heavenly music deigned to dwell<br />
+An inmate in his cloistered cell,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As beams the solem star,</span><br />
+All night, with meditative eyes<br />
+Where some lone, rock-bound fountain lies.<br />
+<br />
+As through the groves, with quiet tread,<br />
+On his accustomed haunts he sped,<br />
+The mother-thrush, unstartled, sung<br />
+Her descant to her callow young,<br />
+And fearless o'er his threshold prest<br />
+The wanderer from the sparrow's nest,<br />
+The squirrel raised a sparkling eye<br />
+Nor from his kernel cared to fly<br />
+As passed that gentle hermit by.<br />
+No timid creature shrank to meet<br />
+His pensive glance, serenely sweet;<br />
+From his own kind, alone, he sought<br />
+The screen of solitary thought.<br />
+Whether the world too harshly prest<br />
+Its iron o'er a yielding breast,<br />
+Or forced his morbid youth to prove<br />
+The pang of unrequited love,<br />
+We know not, for he never said<br />
+Aught of the life he erst had led.<br />
+<br />
+On Iris isle, a summer-bower<br />
+He twined with branch and vine and flower,<br />
+And there he mused on rustic seat,<br />
+Unconscious of the noonday heat,<br />
+Or 'neath the crystal waters lay,<br />
+Luxuriant, in the swimmer's play.<br />
+<br />
+Yet once the whelming flood grew strong.<br />
+And bore him like a weed along,<br />
+Though with convulsive grasp of pain<br />
+And heaving breast, he strove in vain,<br />
+Then sinking 'neath the infuriate tide,<br />
+Lone, as he lived, the hermit died.<br />
+<br />
+On, by the rushing current swept,<br />
+The lifeless corse its voyage kept,<br />
+To where, in narrow gorge comprest,<br />
+The whirlpool-eddies never rest,<br />
+But boil with wild tumultuous sway,<br />
+The Maelstrom of Niagara.<br />
+And there, within that rocky bound,<br />
+In swift gyrations round and round,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mysterious course it held,</span><br />
+Now springing from the torrent hoarse,<br />
+Now battling, as with maniac force,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To mortal strife compelled.</span><br />
+<br />
+Right fearful, 'neath the moonbeam bright,<br />
+It was to see that brow so white,<br />
+And mark the ghastly dead<br />
+Leap upward from his torture-bed,<br />
+<span class="pagenum">128</span>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As if in passion-gust,</span><br />
+And tossing wild with agony<br />
+Resist the omnipotent decree<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of dust to dust.</span><br />
+<br />
+At length, where smoother waters flow,<br />
+Emerging from the abyss below,<br />
+The hapless youth they gained, and bore<br />
+Sad to his own forsaken door.<br />
+There watched his dog, with straining eye,<br />
+And scarce would let the train pass by,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Save that with instinct's rushing spell,</span><br />
+Through the changed cheek's empurpled hue,<br />
+And stiff and stony form, he knew<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The master he had loved so well.</span><br />
+The kitten fair, whose graceful wile<br />
+So oft had won his musing smile,<br />
+As round his slippered foot she played,<br />
+Stretched on his vacant pillow laid.<br />
+While strewed around, on board and chair,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The last-plucked flower, the book last read,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The ready pen, the page outspread,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The water cruse, the unbroken bread&mdash;</span><br />
+Revealed how sudden was the snare<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That swept him to the dead.</span><br />
+<br />
+And so, he rests in foreign earth,<br />
+Who drew 'mid Albion's vales his birth:<br />
+Yet let no cynic phrase unkind<br />
+Condemn that youth of gentle mind&mdash;<br />
+Of shrinking nerve, and lonely heart,<br />
+And lettered lore, and tuneful art,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Who here his humble worship paid</span><br />
+In that most glorious temple-shrine,<br />
+Where to the Majesty Divine<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nature her noblest altar made.</span><br />
+<br />
+No, blame him not, but praise the Power<br />
+Who, in the dear domestic bower,<br />
+Hath given you firmer strength to rear<br />
+The plants of love&mdash;with toil and fear&mdash;<br />
+The beam to meet, the blast to dare,<br />
+And like a faithful soldier bear;<br />
+Still with sad heart his requiem pour,<br />
+Amid the cataract's ceaseless roar,<br />
+And bid one tear of pitying gloom<br />
+Bedew that meek enthusiast's tomb.<br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="burial" id="burial">BURIAL OF A VOLUNTEER.</a></h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY PARK BENJAMIN.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+'Tis eve! one brightly-beaming star<br />
+Shines from the eastern heavens afar,<br />
+To light the footsteps of the brave,<br />
+Slow marching to a comrade's grave.<br />
+<br />
+The Northern wind has sunk to sleep;<br />
+The sweet South breathes; as low and deep<br />
+The martial clang is heard, the tread<br />
+Of those who bear the silent dead.<br />
+<br />
+And whose the form, all stark and cold,<br />
+Thus ready for the loosened mould;<br />
+Thus stretched upon so rude a bier?<br />
+Thine, soldier, thine&mdash;the volunteer!<br />
+<br />
+Poor volunteer! the shot, the blow,<br />
+Or fell disease hath laid him low&mdash;<br />
+And few his early loss deplore&mdash;<br />
+His battle done, his journey o'er.<br />
+<br />
+Alas! no fond wife's arms caressed,<br />
+His cheeks no tender mother pressed,<br />
+No pitying soul was by his side,<br />
+As, lonely in his tent, he died.<br />
+<br />
+He died&mdash;the volunteer&mdash;at noon;<br />
+At evening came the small platoon;<br />
+And soon they'll leave him to his rest,<br />
+With sods upon his manly breast.<br />
+<br />
+Hark to their fire! his only knell,<br />
+More solemn than the passing bell;<br />
+For, ah! it tells a spirit flown<br />
+Without a prayer or sigh, alone!<br />
+<br />
+His name and fate shall fade away,<br />
+Forgotten since his dying day,<br />
+And never on the roll of fame<br />
+Shall be inscribed his humble name.<br />
+<br />
+Alas! like him how many more<br />
+Lie cold on Rio Grande's shore;<br />
+How many green, unnoted graves<br />
+Are bordered by those turbid waves!<br />
+<br />
+Sleep, soldier, sleep! from sorrow free<br />
+And sin and strife: 'tis well with thee!<br />
+'Tis well, though not a single tear<br />
+Laments the buried volunteer.<br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="morning" id="morning">THE BRIDAL MORNING.</a></h3>
+
+<h5>[SEE ENGRAVING.]</h5>
+<br />
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+Morn of hopes that, quivering, glow<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With a light ne'er known before;</span><br />
+Morn of fears, which cannot throw<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shadows its sweet glory o'er!</span><br />
+<br />
+Gentle thoughts of all the past;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Happy thoughts of all to come;</span><br />
+Loving thoughts, like rose-leaves, cast<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Over all around her home.</span><br />
+<br />
+Oh, the light upon that brow;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh, the love within that eye!</span><br />
+Oh, the pleasant dreams that flow<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like fairy music sweetly by!</span><br />
+<br />
+Morn of Hope! Oh may its light<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Melt but into brighter day!</span><br />
+Lady, all that's blest and bright<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Be about thy path alway!</span><br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="home" id="home">HOME.</a></h3>
+<span class="pagenum">129</span>
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY MRS. H. MARION WARD.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<p>"<i>Home, sweet home!"</i> How many holy and beautiful memories are crowded
+into those three little words. How does the absent one, when weary
+with the cold world's strife, return, like the dove of the deluge, to
+that bright spot amid the troubled waters of life. "<i>Home, sweet
+home!</i>" The one household plant that blooms on and on, amid the
+withering heart-flowers, that brightens up amidst tempests and storms,
+and gives its sweetest fragrance when all else is gloom and
+desolation. We never know how deeply its roots are entwined with our
+heart-strings, till bitter lessons of wasted affection have taught us
+to appreciate that love which remains the same through years of
+estrangement. What exile from the spot of his birth but remembers,
+perhaps with bitterness, the time when falsehood and deceit first
+broke up the beautiful dreams of his soul, when he learned to <i>see</i>
+the world in its true colors. How his heart ached for his father's
+look of kindness&mdash;his mother's voice of sympathy&mdash;a sister's
+or brother's hand to clasp in the warm embrace of kindred affection.
+Poor, home-sick wanderer! I can feel for your loneliness; for my heart
+often weeps tears of bitterness over the memories of a far-off home,
+and in sympathy with a gray-haired father, who, when he calls his
+little band around the hearth-stone, misses full many a link in the
+chain of social affection. I can feel for your loneliness, for perhaps
+you have a father, too, whose eyes have grown dim by long looking into
+the tomb of love. Perhaps you, too, have a mother, sleeping in some
+distant grave-yard, beneath the flowers your hands have planted; and
+as life's path grows still more rugged before you, you wonder, as I
+have done, when your time will come to lie down and sleep quietly with
+<i>her</i>. An incident occurred on board of one of the western steamers,
+some years since, which strongly impressed me with its truthfulness in
+proving how wildly the heart clings to home reminiscences when absent
+from that spot. A party of emigrants had taken passage, amongst whom
+was a young Swiss girl, accompanied by a small brother. Not even the
+<i>outre</i> admixture of Swiss, German, and English costume, which
+composed her dress, could conceal the fact that she was supremely
+beautiful; and as the emigrants were separated from what is termed the
+first-class passengers only by a slight railing, I had an opportunity
+of inspecting her appearance without giving offence by marked
+observation. Amongst the crowd there happened to be a set of German
+musicians, who, by amusing the <i>ennuied</i> passengers, reaped quite a
+harvest of silver for their exertions. I have always heard that the
+Germans were extremely fond of music, and was surprised that none of
+the party, not even the beautiful Swiss girl, gave the slightest
+indication of pleasure, or once removed from the position they had
+occupied the whole way. Indeed, I was becoming quite indignant, that
+the soul-stirring Marseilles Hymn of France, the God Save the Queen of
+England, and last, not <i>least</i> in its impressive melody, the Hail
+Columbia of our own nation, should have pealed its music out upon the
+great waters, almost hushing their mighty swell with its enchantment,
+and yet not waken an echo in the hearts of those homeless wanderers.
+The musicians paused to rest for a moment, and then suddenly, as if by
+magic, the glorious <i>Rans des Vache</i> of Switzerland stole over the
+water, with its touching pathos swelling into grand sublimity, its
+home-music melting away in love, and then bursting forth in the free,
+glad strains of revelry, till every breath was hushed as by the
+presence of visible beauty. Having never before heard this beautiful
+melody, in my surprise and admiration I had quite forgotten my
+emigrant friends, when a low sob attracted my attention, and turning
+round, I saw the Swiss girl, with her head buried in the lap of an old
+woman, trying to stifle the tears that <i>would</i> force their way or
+break the heart that held them. I had but a slight knowledge of the
+Swiss dialect, and "my home, my beautiful home!" was the only words
+intelligible to me. She wept long and bitterly after the cadence of
+the song was lost amongst the waves, while the old woman, blessings on
+her for the act, sought by every endearment within her power to soothe
+and encourage the home-sick girl. There was little enow of refinement
+in her rough sympathy, but it was a heart-tribute&mdash;and I could
+almost love her for the unselfishness with which she drew the
+shrinking form closer to her bosom. I would have given the world to
+have learned that girl's previous history. I am sure <i>accident</i> must
+have thrown her amongst her present associates, as I have seen a lily
+broken from its stem by a sudden gust of wind, and flung to wither and
+die amid rude and hardy weeds. In a few hours the party left the boat,
+and I never saw either her or them again; but, till this day, whenever
+any incident of a domestic nature wakens old-time dreams, pleasant
+memories of that beautiful exile, weeping over the music of her lost
+Eden, and of the kind old woman caressing her, and kissing off the
+falling tears, creep together, and form a lovely picture of <i>home and
+heaven-born love</i>.</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+<h3><a name="marginalia" id="marginalia">MARGINALIA.</a></h3>
+<span class="pagenum">130</span>
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY EDGAR A. POE.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<p>That punctuation is important all agree; but how few comprehend the
+extent of its importance! The writer who neglects punctuation, or
+mis-punctuates, is liable to be misunderstood&mdash;this, according to
+the popular idea, is the sum of the evils arising from heedlessness or
+ignorance. It does not seem to be known that, even where the sense is
+perfectly clear, a sentence may be deprived of half its
+force&mdash;its spirit&mdash;its point&mdash;by improper punctuation.
+For the want of merely a comma, it often occurs that an axiom appears
+a paradox, or that a sarcasm is converted into a sermonoid.</p>
+
+<p>There is <i>no</i> treatise on the topic&mdash;and there is no topic on
+which a treatise is more needed. There seems to exist a vulgar notion
+that the subject is one of pure conventionality, and cannot be brought
+within the limits of intelligibly and consistent <i>rule</i>. And yet, if
+fairly looked in the face, the whole matter is so plain that its
+<i>rationale</i> may be read as we run. If not anticipated, I shall,
+hereafter, make an attempt at a magazine paper on "The Philosophy of
+Point."</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime let me say a word or two of <i>the dash</i>. Every writer
+for the press, who has any sense of the accurate, must have been
+frequently mortified and vexed at the distortion of his sentences by
+the printer's now general substitution of a semicolon, or comma, for
+the dash of the MS. The total or nearly total disuse of the latter
+point, has been brought about by the revulsion consequent upon its
+excessive employment about twenty years ago. The Byronic poets were
+<i>all</i> dash. John Neal, in his earlier novels, exaggerated its use into
+the grossest abuse&mdash;although his very error arose from the
+philosophical and self-dependent spirit which has always distinguished
+him, and which will even yet lead him, if I am not greatly mistaken in
+the man, to do something for the literature of the country which the
+country "will not willingly," and cannot possibly, "let die."</p>
+
+<p>Without entering now into the <i>why</i>, let me observe that the printer
+may always ascertain when the dash of the MS. is properly and when
+improperly employed, by bearing in mind that this point represents <i>a
+second thought&mdash;an emendation</i>. In using it just above I have
+exemplified its use. The words "an emendation" are, speaking with
+reference to grammatical construction, put in <i>ap</i>position with the
+words "a second thought." Having written these latter words, I
+reflected whether it would not be possible to render their meaning
+more distinct by certain other words. Now, instead of erasing the
+phrase "a second thought," which is of <i>some</i> use&mdash;which
+<i>partially</i> conveys the idea intended&mdash;which advances me <i>a step
+toward</i> my full purpose&mdash;I suffer it to remain, and merely put a
+dash between it and the phrase "an emendation." The dash gives the
+reader a choice between two, or among three or more expressions, one
+of which may be more forcible than another, but all of which help out
+the idea. It stands, in general, for these words&mdash;"<i>or, to make
+my meaning more distinct</i>." This force <i>it has</i>&mdash;and this force
+no other point can have; since all other points have well-understood
+uses quite different from this. Therefore, the dash <i>cannot</i> be
+dispensed with.</p>
+
+<p>It has its phases&mdash;its variation of the force described; but the
+one principle&mdash;that of second thought or emendation&mdash;will be
+found at the bottom of all.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>In a reply to a letter signed "Outis," and defending Mr. Longfellow
+from certain charges supposed to have been made against him by myself,
+I took occasion to assert that "of the class of willful plagiarists
+nine out of ten are authors of established reputation who plunder
+recondite, neglected, or forgotten books." I came to this conclusion
+<i>&agrave; priori</i>; but experience has confirmed me in it. Here is a
+plagiarism from Channing; and as it is perpetrated by an anonymous
+writer in a Monthly Magazine, the theft seems at war with my
+assertion&mdash;until it is seen that the Magazine in question is
+Campbell's New Monthly for <i>August</i>, 1828. Channing, at that time, was
+comparatively unknown; and, besides, the plagiarism appeared in a
+foreign country, where there was little probability of detection.</p>
+
+<p>Channing, in his essay on Bonaparte, says:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"We would observe that military talent, even of
+the highest order, is far from holding the first place
+among intellectual endowments. It is one of the lower
+forms of genius, for it is not conversant with the
+highest and richest objects of thought.... Still
+the chief work of a general is to apply physical force&mdash;to
+remove physical obstructions&mdash;to avail himself
+of physical aids and advantages&mdash;to act on matter&mdash;to
+overcome rivers, ramparts, mountains, and
+human muscles; and these are not the highest objects
+of mind, nor do they demand intelligence of the
+highest order:&mdash;and accordingly nothing is more
+common than to find men, eminent in this department,
+who are almost wholly wanting in the noblest
+energies of the soul&mdash;in imagination and taste&mdash;in the
+capacity of enjoying works of genius&mdash;in large views
+of human nature&mdash;in the moral sciences&mdash;in the application
+of analysis and generalization to the human
+mind and to society, and in original conceptions on
+the great subjects which have absorbed the most
+glorious understandings."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The thief in "The New Monthly," says:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>"Military talent, even of the highest <i>grade</i>, is
+<i>very</i> far from holding the first place among intellectual
+endowments. It is one of the lower forms
+of genius, for it is <i>never made</i> conversant with the
+<i>more delicate and abstruse of mental operations</i>.</p>
+<span class="pagenum">131</span>
+<p>It is used to apply physical force; to remove physical
+force; to remove physical obstructions; to avail
+itself of physical aids and advantages; and all these
+are not the highest objects of mind, nor do they
+demand intelligence of the highest <i>and rarest</i> order.
+Nothing is more common than to find men, eminent
+in the science and practice of war, <i>wholly</i> wanting
+in the nobler energies of the soul; in imagination,
+in taste, in <i>enlarged</i> views of human nature, in the
+moral sciences, in the application of analysis and
+generalization to the human mind and to society;
+or in original conceptions on the great subjects
+which have <i>occupied and</i> absorbed the most glorious
+<i>of human</i> understandings."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The article in "The New Monthly" is on "The State of Parties." The
+italics are mine.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>Apparent plagiarisms frequently arise from an author's
+self-repetition. He finds that something he has already published has
+fallen dead&mdash;been overlooked&mdash;or that it is peculiarly <i>&agrave;
+propos</i> to another subject now under discussion. He therefore
+introduces the passage; often without allusion to his having printed
+it before; and sometimes he introduces it into an anonymous article.
+An anonymous writer is thus, now and then, unjustly accused of
+plagiarism&mdash;when the sin is merely that of self-repetition.</p>
+
+<p>In the present case, however, there has been a deliberate plagiarism
+of the silliest as well as meanest species. Trusting to the obscurity
+of his original, the plagiarist has fallen upon the idea of killing
+two birds with one stone&mdash;of dispensing with all disguise but
+that of <i>decoration</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Channing says "order"&mdash;the writer in the New Monthly says
+"grade." The former says that this order is "far from holding,"
+etc.&mdash;the latter says it is "<i>very</i> far from holding." The one
+says that military talent is "<i>not</i> conversant," and so on&mdash;the
+other says "it is <i>never made</i> conversant." The one speaks of "the
+highest and richest objects"&mdash;the other of "the more delicate and
+abstruse." Channing speaks of "thought"&mdash;the thief of "mental
+operations." Chaming mentions "intelligence of the <i>highest</i>
+order"&mdash;the thief will have it of "the highest <i>and rarest</i>."
+Channing observes that military talent is often "<i>almost</i> wholly
+wanting," etc.&mdash;the thief maintains it to be "<i>wholly</i> wanting."
+Channing alludes to "<i>large</i> views of human nature"&mdash;the thief
+can be content with nothing less than "enlarged" ones. Finally, the
+American having been satisfied with a reference to "subjects which
+have absorbed the most glorious understandings," the Cockney puts him
+to shame at once by discoursing about "subjects which have <i>occupied
+and</i> absorbed the most glorious <i>of human</i> understandings"&mdash;as if
+one could be absorbed, without being occupied, by a subject&mdash;as
+if "<i>of</i>" were here any thing more than two superfluous
+letters&mdash;and as if there were any chance of the reader's
+supposing that the understandings in question were the understandings
+of frogs, or jackasses, or Johnny Bulls.</p>
+
+<p>By the way, in a case of this kind, whenever there is a question as to
+who is the original and who the plagiarist, the point may be
+determined, almost invariably, by observing which passage is
+amplified, or exaggerated, in tone. To disguise his stolen horse, the
+uneducated thief cuts off the tail; but the educated thief prefers
+tying on a new tail at the end of the old one, and painting them both
+sky blue.</p></div>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>After reading all that has been written, and after thinking all that
+can be thought, on the topics of God and the soul, the man who has a
+right to say that he thinks at all, will find himself face to face
+with the conclusion that, on these topics, the most profound thought
+is that which can be the least easily distinguished from the most
+superficial sentiment.</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<h3><a name="love" id="love">LOVE.</a></h3>
+<span class="pagenum">132</span>
+<hr class="short" />
+<h4>BY R. H. STODDARD.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+<div class="blockquot">
+Oh Love! thou art a fallen child of light,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A ruined seraph in a world of care&mdash;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Tortured and wrung by sorrow and despair,</span><br />
+And longings for the beautiful and bright:<br />
+Thy brow is deeply scarred, and bleeds beneath<br />
+A spiked coronet, a thorny wreath;<br />
+Thy rainbow wings are rent and torn with chains,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sullied and drooping in extremest wo;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy dower, to those who love thee best below,</span><br />
+Is tears and torture, agony and pains,<br />
+Coldness and scorn and doubt which often parts;&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"The course of true love never does run smooth,"</span><br />
+Old histories show it, and a thousand hearts,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Breaking from day to day, attest the solemn truth.</span><br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 358px;">
+<img src="images/illus207.png" width="358" height="600"
+alt="Beauty's Bath" title="" /></div>
+<br />
+<h4>Beauty's Bath</h4>
+<br />
+<h5>Painted by E. Landseer&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Engraved by J. Sartain<br />
+Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine</h5>
+<br /><br />
+
+<h3><a name="bath" id="bath">BEAUTY'S BATH.</a></h3>
+
+<h5>[ILLUSTRATING AN ENGRAVING.]</h5>
+<br />
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+The fair one stands beside the plashing brim,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her pet, her Beauty, gathered to her breast;</span><br />
+A doubt hath crossed her: "can he surely swim?"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And in her sweet face is that fear exprest.</span><br />
+<br />
+Alas! how often, for thyself, in years<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fast coming, wilt thou pause and doubt and shrink</span><br />
+O'er some fair project! Then, be all thy fears<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">False as this first one by the water's brink!</span><br />
+</div><br /><br />
+
+
+<h3><a name="review" id="review">REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</a></h3>
+<br />
+
+<p><i>Poems of Early and After Years. By N. P. Willis. Illustrated by E.
+Leutze. Philadelphia: Carey &amp; Hart. 1 vol. 8vo.</i></p>
+
+<p>This is a complete edition of one of America's most popular poets,
+with the old poems carefully revised, and many new pieces added. It is
+got up in a similar style with the editions of Longfellow and Bryant,
+by the same publishers, and is one of the most splendid volumes of the
+season. The portrait of the author, engraved by Cheney, is the most
+accurate we have seen. The illustrations, from designs by Leutze, and
+engraved by Humphrys, Tucker, and Pease, are sixteen in number, and in
+their character and execution are honorable to American art. They are
+truly embellishments. Fertile as has been the house of Carey &amp;
+Hart in beautiful books, they have published nothing more elegant and
+tasteful than the present edition of Willis.</p>
+
+<p>We have written, in various critiques, at such length on the merits
+and characteristics of Willis, that it would be but repetition to
+dilate upon his genius now. In looking over the present volume, we
+cannot see that the sparkle and fire of his poetry becomes dim, even
+as read by eyes which have often performed that pleasant task before.
+The old witchery still abides in them, and the old sweetness,
+raciness, melody and power. That versatile mind, gliding with such
+graceful ease over the whole ground of "occasional" pieces, serious
+and mirthful, impassioned and tender, sacred and satirical, looks out
+upon us with the same freshness from his present "pictured" page, as
+when we hunted it, in the old time, through newspapers, magazines, and
+incomplete collections. We cordially wish the author the same success
+in his present rich dress, which he has always met in whatever style
+of typography he has invaded the public heart. When the stereotype
+plates of the present edition are worn out, it does not require the
+gift of prophecy to predict that the poet's reputation will be as
+unworn and us bright as ever.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><i>A Plea for Amusements. By Frederic W. Sawyer, New York: D. Appleton
+&amp; Co. 1 vol. 12mo.</i></p>
+
+<p>This little volume, viewed in respect to the prejudices it so clearly
+exposes and opposes, is quite an important publication, and we trust
+it will find readers among those who need it most. That clumsy habit
+of the public mind, by which the perversions are confounded with the
+use of a thing, finds in Mr. Sawyer an acute analyst as well as
+sensible opponent. He has done his work with much learning, ability
+and taste, and has contrived to make his exposure of popular bigotries
+as interesting as it is useful.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><i>Campaign Sketches of the War with Mexico. By Capt. W. S. Henry, U. S.
+Army. With Engravings. New York: Harper &amp; Brothers. 1 vol. 12mo.</i></p>
+
+<p>Here is a work by a brave and intelligent soldier, relating to the
+battles of General Taylor in Mexico, of which he was an eye-witness.
+It has the freshness which might be expected from a writer who mingled
+in the scenes he describes; and the plates of the different
+battle-grounds enable the reader intelligently to follow the
+descriptions of the author. Spite of the numerous books relating to
+the subject already before the public, Captain Henry's volume will be
+found to contain much not generally known, and to describe what is
+generally known better than most of his precursors in the task.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><i>The Consuelo. By George Sand. In Three Volumes. New York: W. H.
+Graham, Tribune Buildings.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Countess of Rudolstadt. By George Sand. [Sequel to Consuelo.] 2
+vols. Same Publisher.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Journeyman Joiner, or the Companion of the Tour of France. By
+George Sand. Same Publisher.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Devil's Pool. By George Sand. Same Publisher.</i></p>
+
+<p>The above editions of the somewhat too celebrated George Sand are got
+up, by our enterprising friend the publisher, in a style superior to
+that generally used on this species of literature. The translation by
+F. G. Shaw, Esq. has been generally, and we think justly, commended.
+The works themselves, and their tendencies and results, have been made
+the subject of various opinions both here and abroad. We are not among
+those who are prepared to enter the lists as their champion. The
+translator himself remarks in relation to Consuelo: "That it has not
+found fit translation before, was doubtless owing to prevailing
+impressions of something erratic and <i>bizarre</i> in the author's way of
+living, and to a certain undeniable tone of wild, defying freedom in
+her earlier writings." The censure of the moral portion of the
+community is thus softly and mercifully expressed: We will not at
+present add to it.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><i>The Last Incarnation. Gospel Legends of the Nineteenth Century. By A.
+Constant. Translated by F. G. Shaw, Esq. New York: Wm. H. Graham.</i></p>
+
+<p>A well printed and cheap volume.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><i>The Scouting Expeditions of M'Culloch's Texas Rangers. By Samuel C.
+Ried, jr. Zieber &amp; Co. Philadelphia.</i></p>
+
+<p>This work contains a spirited and vivid sketch of the Mexican war as
+prosecuted under Taylor. It is full of incident and interest, is
+written with spirit, and illustrated by a number of engravings.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<br /><br />
+<h3><a name="plate" id="plate">DESCRIPTION OF THE FASHION PLATE.</a></h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Toilette de Ville</span>.&mdash;Dress of gray satin, with a plain skirt;
+corsage plain, with a rounded point; sleeves above of violet-colored
+velvet, closed on the top, and trimmed with very rich lace; small
+pelerine to the waists, and terminated at the seam of the shoulder,
+trimmed with lace. Hat of yellow satin, long at the cheeks, and
+rounded, ornamented with a bouquet of white flowers resting on the
+side, arid a puff of tulle on the inside.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Riche Toilette d'Interieur</span>.&mdash;Dress of blue cashmere, ornamented
+with a row of silver buttons down the front of the skirts; corsage
+plain, with buttons, and terminating in two small points; sleeves
+rather short, and under ones of three rows of lace: neck-dress of
+lace. Cap also of lace, resting flat upon the front of the head, and
+forming folds behind, trimmed with bows of ribbon, of rose-colored
+taffeta, below the lace to the depth of the strings.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Erratum</span>.&mdash;In the article on Stoke Church and Church-yard, page
+77, 12th line from bottom of 2d column, "1779" should read 1799.</p>
+<br /><br />
+<div class="footnotes">
+<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4>
+<div class="footnote">
+
+<a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a>
+<a href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>: Eton was founded and endowed by King Henry the Sixth. A
+marble bust of the poet Gray was presented by Lord Morpeth, in 1846,
+and placed, amongst many others, in the upper school.
+<br /><br />
+<a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a>
+<a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a>:
+A pair of Baltimore birds (the orchard oriole) returned
+summer after summer, and built their hanging nest, not only in the
+same apple-tree, but on the same bough, which overhung a terrace, in a
+garden belonging to the writer at Geneva, New York, until one season a
+terrific storm, not of hail but ice, tore the nest from the tree, and
+killed the young, and the parent birds never afterward returned.
+<br /><br />
+<a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3"></a>
+<a href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a>:
+In all editions but that published by Mr. John Sharpe the initial
+<i>only</i> of this name has been given&mdash;"Mr. P."&mdash;even the Eton edition of
+this year has it so. It seems folly to continue what may have been
+very proper nearly a hundred years ago, when the individual was alive;
+but the Rev. Robert Purt died in April, 1752!
+
+</div>
+</div>
+<br />
+<p>Transcriber's Note:</p>
+
+<p>1. Page 83--'for the lady lacked neither the wit not humor, and the ....'
+changed to 'for the lady lacked neither wit nor humor...'</p>
+
+<p>2. Page 83--superfluous word 'his' removed from sentence '...he had
+nothing on but his his shirt, and...'</p>
+
+<p>3. Page 85--typo 'centipeds' corrected to 'centipedes'</p>
+
+<p>4. Page 85--superfluous word 'his' removed from sentence '...constant to
+his his first love, mourning...'</p>
+
+<p>5. A number of contracted forms, such as 't is, shortened to 'tis, in
+order to preserve the scansion of poetry</p>
+
+<p>6. Page 106--typo in sentence '...up the mill-stream, und as we
+returned...' replaced by 'and'</p>
+
+<p>7. Page 106--typo 'outr&egrave;' in sentence '...however strange or outr&egrave;; and
+there is...' changed to 'outr&eacute;'</p>
+
+<p>8. Page 106--typo 'evious' in sentence '...would turn up an evious nose,
+and...' corrected to 'envious'</p>
+
+<p>9. Page 110--typo 'widows' in sentence '...sitting by the widows of the
+summer-house,' changed to 'windows'</p>
+
+<p>10. Page 113--typo 'then' in sentence '...was upon then--the eye of
+Agnes;...' changed to 'them'</p>
+
+<p>11. Page 121--typo 'clasp&eacute;d' corrected to 'clasp&egrave;d'</p>
+
+<p>12. Page 125--typo 'giver' in sentence '...until he saw her giver her
+arm...' corrected to 'give'</p>
+<br/>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol. XXXII No. 2. 
+February 1848, by Various
+
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+</pre>
+
+  </body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol. XXXII No. 2.
+February 1848, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: Graham's Magazine Vol. XXXII No. 2.  February 1848
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: George R. Graham
+        Robert T. Conrad
+
+Release Date: June 24, 2009 [EBook #29218]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, FEB 1848 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at
+http://www.pgdpcanada.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE.
+
+VOL. XXXII. PHILADELPHIA, FEBRUARY, 1848. No. 2.
+
+STOKE CHURCH AND PARK.
+
+THE SCENE OF GRAY'S ELEGY, AND RESIDENCE OF THE PENNS OF PENNSYLVANIA
+
+BY R. BALMANNO.
+
+
+[Illustration: Manor of Stoke]
+
+The Manor of Stoke, with its magnificent mansion and picturesque park,
+is situate near the village of Stoke Pogeys, in the county of
+Buckingham, four miles north-west of Windsor.
+
+About two miles distant from Stoke lies the village of Slough,
+rendered famous by the residence of the celebrated astronomer, Sir
+William Herschel, and a short way further, on a gentle slope continued
+the whole way from Stoke, stand the venerable towers of time-honored
+Eton, on the bank of the Thames, directly opposite, and looking up to
+the proud castle of the kings of England, unmatched in its lofty,
+commanding situation and rich scenery by that of any royal residence
+in Europe.
+
+Stoke, anciently written Stoches, belonged, in the time of William the
+Conqueror, A. D. 1086, to William, son of Ansculf, of whom it was held
+by Walter de Stoke. Previous thereto, it was in part held by Siret, a
+vassal of Harold, and at the same time, a certain Stokeman, the vassal
+of Tubi, held another portion. Finally, in the year 1300, during the
+reign of King Edward the First, it received its present appellation by
+the intermarriage of Amicia de Stoke, the heiress, with Robert de
+Pogeys. Under the sovereignty of Edward the Third, 1346, John de
+Molines, originally of French extraction, and from the town of that
+name in Bourbonnais, married Margaret de Pogeys; and, in consequence
+of his eminent services, obtained license of the king to make a castle
+of his manor-house of Stoke Pogeys, fortify with stone walls
+embattled, and imparke the woods; also that it should be exempt from
+the authority of the marshal of the king's household, or any of his
+officers; and in further testimony of the king's favor, he had summons
+to Parliament among the barons of the realm.
+
+During the wars of the rival Roses, the place was owned by Sir Robert
+Hungerford, commonly called Lord Moleyns, by reason of his marriage
+with Alianore, daughter of William, Lord Moleyns.
+
+This Lord Robert, siding with the Lancasterians, or the Red Roses,
+upon the loss of the battle of Towton, fled to York, where King Henry
+the Sixth then was, and afterward with him into Scotland. He was
+attainted by the Parliament of Edward the Fourth; but the king took
+compassion on Alianore, his wife, and her children, committing her and
+them to the care of John, Lord Wenlock, to whom he had granted all her
+husband's manors and lands, granting them a fitting support as long as
+her said husband, Lord Robert, should live. But the Lancasterians
+making head in the north, he "flew out" again, being the chief of
+those who were in the castle of the Percys, at Alnwick, with five or
+six hundred Frenchmen, and being taken prisoner at the battle of
+Hexham, he was beheaded at Newcastle on Tyne, but buried in the north
+aisle of the cathedral of Salisbury.
+
+Lady Alianore, his widow, lies buried in the church of Stoke Pogeys;
+and her monument may still be seen, with an epitaph commencing thus:
+
+    _Hic, hoc sub lapide sepelitur Corpus venerabilis
+    Dominae Alianorae Molins, Baronissiae, quam
+    prius desponsavit Dominus Robertus Hungerford,
+    miles et Baro. &c. &c._
+
+Notwithstanding the grant to Lord Wenlock, Thomas, the son and heir of
+Lord Robert Hungerford, succeeded to the estate. For a time he sided
+with the famous Earl of Warwick, the king-maker, who took part with
+Edward the Fourth, but afterward "falling off," and endeavoring for
+the restoration of King Henry the Sixth, was seized on, and tried for
+his life at Salisbury, before that diabolical tyrant, crook-back Duke
+of Gloucester, afterward Richard the Third, where he had judgment of
+the death of a traitor, and suffered accordingly the next day.
+
+But during the reign of Henry the Seventh, in 1485, when the Red Roses
+became triumphant at the decisive battle of Bosworth, and these
+unnatural and bloody wars which had devastated England for nearly
+thirty years, being brought to a close, by the union of Henry with
+Elizabeth of York, representative of the White Roses, the attainder of
+Thomas, as well as that of his father, Lord Robert, being reversed in
+Parliament, his only child and heir, called Mary, succeeded to the
+estate.
+
+Lady Mary married Edward, Lord Hastings, from whom the present Earl of
+Huntingdon is descended. She used the title of Lady Hungerford,
+Botreux, Molines, and Peverell. To this marriage Shakspeare alludes in
+the tragedy of King Henry the VI., Part 3, A. 4, Sc. 1, when he makes
+the Duke of Clarence say ironically,
+
+    For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves
+    To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford.
+
+Lord George Hungerford succeeding his father, was advanced to the
+title of Earl of Huntingdon by King Henry the Eighth, in 1529. He died
+the 24th of March, 1543, and lies buried in the chancel of Stoke
+Pogeys. Edward, his second son, was a warrior with King Henry the
+Eighth, and during the reign of Henry's daughter, Queen Mary, 1555,
+declared his testament, appointing his body to be buried at Stoke
+Pogeys, and directing his executors to build a chapel of stone, with
+an altar therein, adjoining the church or chancel, where the late Earl
+Huntingdon and his wife (his father and mother) lay buried; and that a
+tomb should be made, with their images carved in stone, appointing
+that a plate of copper, double gilt, should be made to represent his
+own image, of the size of life, _in harness_, (armor,) and a memorial
+in writing, with his arms, to be placed upright on the wall of the
+chapel, without any other tomb for him. He died without issue. Earl
+Henry was the last of the illustrious family of Huntingdon who
+possessed the manor and manor-house of Stoke; and the embarrassed
+state of his affairs compelled him to mortgage the estate to one
+Branthwait, a sergeant at law, in 1580, during which period it was
+occupied by Lord Chancellor Sir Christopher Hatton, the fine dancer,
+one of the celebrated _favorites_ of Elizabeth, the lascivious
+daughter of King Henry the Eighth--a woman as fickle as profligate, as
+cruel and hard-hearted, so far as regarded her numerous paramours, as
+her brutal father was in respect to his wives.
+
+This historical detail, gathered from Domesday Book, Dugdale, and
+other authorities, is narrated in consequence of its bearing upon some
+celebrated poems hereafter to be noticed, and is continued up to the
+present period for a like reason.
+
+Sir Christopher Hatton died in 1591, and settled his estate on Sir
+William Newport, whose daughter became the second wife of Sir Edward
+Coke, Lord Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench, who purchased
+the estate of Stoke. After the dissolution of the Parliament by King
+Charles the First, in March, 1628-9, Sir Edward Coke being then
+greatly advanced in years, retired to his house at Stoke, where he
+spent the remainder of his days in a quiet retirement, universally
+respected and esteemed; and there, says his epitaph, crowned his pious
+life with a pious and Christian departure, on Wednesday the 3d day of
+September, A. D., 1634, and of his age 83; his last words, "THY
+KINGDOM COME, THY WILL BE DONE!"
+
+Upon the death of Sir Edward Coke, the manor and estate of Stoke
+devolved to his son-in-law, Viscount Purbeck, elder brother of
+Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, who perished by the hand of the
+assassin, Felton.
+
+Lord Purbeck, upon the death of his wife, daughter of Sir Edward Coke,
+married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Slingsby, by whom he had a
+son, Robert, which Robert, marrying the daughter and heir of Sir John
+Danvers, one of the judges who sat on the trial of King Charles the
+First, obtained a patent from Cromwell, Protector of the Commonwealth,
+to change his name to Danvers, alledging as the reasons for his so
+doing "the many disservices done to the commonwealth by the name of
+the family of Villiers."
+
+In 1657, Viscount Purbeck granted a lease of the manor and house of
+Stoke, to Sir Robert Gayer during his own life; and in the same year,
+his son, Robert Villiers, or Danvers, sold his reversionary interest
+in the estate to Sir R. Gayer for the sum of eight thousand five
+hundred and sixty-four pounds. The family of Gayers continued in
+possession until 1724, when the estate was sold for twelve thousand
+pounds to Edmund Halsey, Esq., M.P., who died in 1729, his daughter
+Anne married Sir Richard Temple, created Viscount Cobham, who survived
+him; and she resided at Stoke until her death in the year 1760.
+
+The house and manor of Stoke were sold in the same year, by the
+representatives of Edmund Halsey, to the Honorable Thomas Penn, Lord
+Proprietary of the Province of Pennsylvania, the eldest surviving son
+of the Honorable William Penn, the celebrated founder and original
+proprietary of the province.
+
+Upon the death of Thomas Penn, in 1775, the manor of Stoke, together
+with all his other estates, devolved upon his eldest surviving son,
+John, by the Right Honorable Lady Juliana, his wife, fourth daughter
+of the Earl of Pomfret.
+
+In 1789, the ancient mansion of Stoke, appearing to Mr. Penn, after
+some years absence in America, to demand very extensive repairs,
+(chiefly from the destructive consequences of damp in the principal
+rooms,) it was judged advisable to take it down.
+
+The style of its architecture was not of a kind the most likely to
+dissuade him from this undertaking. Most of the great buildings of
+Queen Elizabeth's reign have a style peculiar to themselves, both in
+form and finishing, where, though much of the old Gothic is retained,
+and a great part of the new style is adopted, yet neither
+predominates, while both, thus indiscriminately blended, compose a
+fantastic species, hardly reducible to any class or name. One of its
+characteristics is the affectation of _large_ and _lofty_ windows,
+where, says Lord Bacon, "you shall have sometimes faire houses so full
+of glass, that one cannot tell where to become to be out of the sun."
+A perfect specimen of this fantastic style, in complete repair, may be
+seen in Hardwick Hall, county of Derby, one of the many residences of
+that princely and amiable nobleman, the Duke of Devonshire, and a
+perfect _contrast_ to it, at his other noble residence not many miles
+distant, in the same county, Chatsworth, "the Palace of the Peak."
+
+It is true that high antiquity alone gives, in the eye of taste, a
+continually increasing value to specimens of all such kinds of
+architecture; but beside that, the superiority of the new site chosen
+by Mr. Penn was manifest, the principal rooms of the old mansion at
+Stoke, where the windows admitted light from _both_ the opposite
+sides, were instances, peculiarly exemplifying the remark of Lord
+Bacon, and countenancing the design to lessen the number of bad, and
+increase that of the good examples of architecture. But a wing of the
+ancient plan was preserved, and is still kept in repair, as a relic,
+harmonizing with the surrounding scenery, and forms with the rustic
+offices, and fruit-gardens annexed, the _villa rustica_ and
+_fructuaria_ of the place.
+
+The new buildings, or, more properly speaking, Palace of Stoke, was
+begun by Mr. Penn immediately after his return from a long absence in
+Pennsylvania, and was covered-in in December, 1790. It is scarcely
+possible to conceive a finer site than that chosen by him for his new
+mansion, being on a commanding eminence, the windows of the principal
+front looking over a rich, variegated landscape toward the lofty
+towers of Windsor Castle, at a distance of four miles, which
+terminates the view in that direction; whilst about and around the
+site are abundance of magnificent aged oaks, elms, and beeches.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+The poems of Thomas Gray, who was educated at Eton, and resided at
+Stoke, are perhaps better known, more read, more easily remembered,
+and more frequently quoted, than those of any other English poet.
+Where is the person who does not remember with feelings approaching to
+enthusiasm, the impressions made on his youthful fancy by the
+enchanting language of the "Elegy written in a Country Church-yard?"
+Who can ever forget the impressions with which he first read the
+narrative of the "hoary-headed swain," and the deep emotion felt on
+perusing the pathetic epitaph, "graved on the stone, beneath yon aged
+thorn," beginning--
+
+    Here rests his head upon the lap of earth.
+    A youth to fortune and to fame unknown:
+    Fair science frowned not on his humble birth.
+    And melancholy marked him for her own.
+
+That exquisite poem contains passages "grav'd" on the hearts of all
+who ever read it in youth, until they themselves become
+hoary-headed--and then, perhaps, remembered most.
+
+But it is not the Elegy alone which makes an indelible impression on
+the youthful reader; equally imperishable are the lines on a distant
+prospect of Eton College.
+
+    Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
+    That crown the wat'ry glade,
+    Where grateful science still adores
+    Her Henry's holy shade.[1]
+
+And who can ever forget the Bard--
+
+    Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
+    Confusion on thy banners wait!
+  Though fann'd by conquests crimson wing,
+    They mock the air with idle state.
+
+Or the lovely Ode on the Spring.
+
+  Lo! where the rosy bosom'd Hours
+     Fair Venus' train appear,
+  Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
+     And wake the purple year!
+
+Or those sublime Odes--On The Progress of Poesy. Awake, AEolian lyre,
+awake; and the Descent of Odin:
+
+    Uprose the king of men with speed,
+    And saddled strait his coal-black steed:
+    Down the yawning steep he rode,
+    That leads to Hela's drear abode.
+
+[Footnote 1: Eton was founded and endowed by King Henry the Sixth. A
+marble bust of the poet Gray was presented by Lord Morpeth, in 1846,
+and placed, amongst many others, in the upper school.]
+
+Who can ever forget the pleasure experienced on the first perusal, and
+on every subsequent reading of these fascinating productions? They
+are such as all, imbued with even a moderate degree of taste and
+feeling, must respond to. But there is another poem of Gray's, less
+read, perhaps, than these, but which, from its humor and arch playful
+style, is apt to make a strong and lasting impression on an
+enthusiastic juvenile mind. It opens so abruptly and oddly, that
+attention is bespoke from the first line. It is entitled "A Long
+Story."
+
+    In Britain's isle--no matter where--
+    An ancient pile of building stands:
+    The Huntingdons and Hattons there
+    Employed the power of fairy hands
+    To raise the ceilings fretted height,
+    Each panel in achievements clothing,
+    Rich windows, that exclude the light,
+    And passages, that lead to nothing.
+
+This poem, teeming with quaint humor, contains one hundred and
+forty-four lines, beside, _as it says_, "two thousand which are lost!"
+
+Extreme admiration of the poems of Gray had been excited in the
+writer's mind even when a schoolboy. In after years, whilst occupying
+chambers in the Temple, he first became aware that the scenery so
+exquisitely described in the Elegy, and the "ancient pile" of
+building, so graphically delineated in the Long Story, were both
+within a few hours' ride of London, and adjoining each other.
+
+Until about the year 1815 he had constantly supposed that the Country
+Church-yard was altogether an imaginary conception, and that the
+ancient mansion of the Huntingdons was far away, somewhere in the
+midland counties; but when fully aware of the true localities, he was
+almost mad with impatience, until, on a Saturday afternoon, _he_ could
+get relieved from the turmoil of business, to fly to scenes hallowed
+by recollections of the halcyon days of youthful aspirations of hope,
+and love, and innocence--and sweetly and fresh do such reminiscences
+still float in his memory.
+
+About the period in question, there was a club in London, formed of
+about twenty or thirty of the most aristocratic of the young nobility,
+possessed of more wealth than wisdom. They gave themselves the name of
+the Whip Club, because each member drove his own team of four horses.
+The chief tutor of these titled Jehu's in the art and mystery of
+driving, was no less a personage than the celebrated Tom Moody, driver
+of the Windsor Coach, and by that crack coach it was intended to
+proceed as far as Slough, on the intended excursion to Stoke, and then
+turn off to the left; but as the Whip Club, at the period in question,
+attracted a large share of public attention in the metropolis, perhaps
+a short notice of it may be here permitted, as it has been long since
+defunct, and is never again likely to be revived, now that steam and
+iron horses have taken the road.
+
+The vehicles, horses, trappings, and gearing, were the most elegant
+and expensive that money could command; and it was a rare thing to see
+upward of twenty such equipages, which, as well as the housings of the
+horses, were emblazoned with heraldric devices, and glittering all
+over with splendid silver and gold ornaments.
+
+The open carriages were all filled with the loveliest of England's
+lovely women, who generally congregated together at an early
+breakfast, or what with them was considered an early breakfast,
+between ten and eleven o'clock! The meet took place at the house of
+Lord Hawke, in Portman Square. His lordship was high admiral, or
+president, Sir Bellingham Graham, whipper-in--and courteously and
+cleverly did Sir Bellingham (or Bellinjim, as it is pronounced)
+perform his delicate duty. When each driver mounted his box, after
+handing in the ladies, it was wonderful to observe with what
+dexterity, ease, and order, all wheeled into line, when the leader,
+with a flourish of his long whip--being the signal for which all were
+watching--led off the splendid array.
+
+It was a gay sight to witness the start, as they swept round the
+square--for the horses were one and all of pure blood, and
+unparalleled for beauty, symmetry, and speed.
+
+To one unaccustomed to such a sight, it might appear somewhat
+dangerous. The fiery impatience of the horses--their pawing and
+champing, the tossing of their beautiful heads, and the swan-like
+curving of their glittering, sleek necks, until they were fairly
+formed into order--at which time they knew just as well as their
+owners that _the play_ was going to begin. But it was perfectly
+delightful to observe the graceful manner in which each pair laid
+their small heads and ears together when fairly under way, beating
+time with their highly polished hoofs--pat, pat, pat, pat, as true as
+the most disciplined regiment marching to a soul-stirring quick step,
+or a troupe of well-trained ballet girls, bounding across the stage of
+the Italian Opera.
+
+When fairly off and skimming along the road, it was, perhaps, as
+animating a show as London ever witnessed since its palmiest days of
+tilt and tournament. I say nothing of the ladies, their commingled
+charms, or gorgeous attire; I only noticed that during the gayety in
+the square, previous to starting, their recognition of each other, and
+the beaux of their acquaintance, there were plenty of
+
+    "Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles,
+    Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
+    And love to live in dimples sleek."
+
+This celebrated club congregated every fortnight, during the gay
+season of May and June, and spent the day at the residence of one of
+their number, within twenty or thirty miles of London, returning in
+the evening, exactly in the order they had set out.
+
+Master Moody, the driver and proprietor of the fast Windsor Coach,
+had, as said, been the tutor of these aristocratic charioteers, who
+placed themselves under his guardianship, and had been taught to
+handle "the ribbons" until declared perfect in the noble science. He
+had consequently imbibed much and many of the _airs_ and _graces_, and
+manners of his pupils.
+
+Being anxious to have a ride beside this great man, I was at
+Piccadilly long before he started, and by a pretty handsome douceur to
+his cad, had the supreme felicity of obtaining a seat on the box, and
+certainly was well repaid for the extra expense of sitting by
+Corinthian Tom.
+
+He was a tall fellow, and had a severely serious face; was dressed in
+the extreme of driving fashion; wore delicate white kid gloves, and
+the tops of his highly-polished boots were white as the lily. In
+short, his whole "toggery" was faultless--a perfect out-and-outer. He
+was truly a great man, or appeared to fancy himself such--for he
+rarely condescended to exchange a word, except with an acquaintance,
+and even then, it was with a condescending, patronizing air; and he
+smiled as seldom as a Connecticut lawyer. Although sitting close by
+his side for twenty miles, not one word passed between us during the
+whole journey.
+
+The nags driven by this proud fellow were as splendid as himself;
+finer cattle never flew over Epsom Downs, the Heath of Ascot, or
+Doncaster Course--pure bloods, every one of them, and such as might
+have served Guido as models for his famous fresco of the chariot of
+Apollo; but Guido's steeds, although they are represented tearing away
+furiously, are lubberly _drays_, compared with the slim, graceful,
+fleet stags of Tom Moody.
+
+When the cad gave the word--"all right," Tom started them with his
+short, shrill "t'chit, t'chit," and a crack of his two-fathom whip
+right over the ears of the leaders, as loud as the report of a pistol.
+They sprang forward with a maddening energy, almost terrifying; but
+the coach was hung and balanced with such precision, and the Windsor
+road kept in the finest order for royalty, there was no jumping or
+jolting, it glided along as smoothly as if it had been running on
+rails. A proud man was Master Moody; not so much of himself, perhaps,
+or of his glossy, broad-brimmed beaver, and broadcloth "upper
+Benjamin," or the dashing silk tie around his neck, but of his
+beautiful nags--and he had reason, for there was not an equipage on
+the road, from the ducal chariot to the dandy tandem, to which he did
+not give the go-by like lightning.
+
+The rapidity of the movement, and the beauty of the animals, produced
+an excitement sufficient to enable one to appreciate the rapture of
+the Arab, as he flies over the desert on his beloved barb, enjoying,
+feeling, exulting in liberty, sweet, intoxicating, unbounded liberty,
+with the whole wilderness for a home.
+
+Some such feelings took possession of me, as the well-poised machine
+shot along. Quick as thought we threaded Kensington High street,
+skirted the wall of Lord Holland's park, just catching, like the
+twinkle of a sunbeam, a glimpse of the antique turrets of that classic
+fane peeping through the trees, as we passed the centre avenue.
+
+We speedily reached Hammersmith and Turnham Green, and then passed
+Sion House and park, the princely residence of the Duke of
+Northumberland, then dashed through the straggling old town of
+Brentford. The intervening fields and openings into the landscape
+affording enchanting prospects before entering on Hounslow Heath, when
+the horses having got warm, the driver gave them full head, and the
+vehicle attained a speed truly exhilarating.
+
+The increased momentum, and the extensive prairie-like expanse of
+Hounslow Heath, would have realized in any enthusiastic mind, the
+feelings of the children of the desert.
+
+This first excursion to Stoke was made during the month of May, when
+all nature is fresh and fair; the guelder-roses and lilacs being in
+full flower, and the hawthorn hedges were one sheet of milky
+fragrance, the air was almost intoxicating, owing to the concentrated
+perfumes arising from fruit orchards in full blossom, and the
+interminable succession of flower gardens opposite every house
+skirting that lovely road, the beauty of which few can conceive who
+have not been in England; but the fresh, _pure_ air on the Heath,
+infused a new feeling, a realization of unalloyed happiness; we were
+rapidly hastening toward scenes for which the soul was yearning, and
+hope, bright, young hope, lent wings and a charm to every object,
+animate and inanimate.
+
+The usual relay of fresh horses were in waiting at Cranburn Bridge,
+and the reeking bloods were instantly changed for others, not a whit
+less spirited than their released compeers. Away went Moody, and away
+went Moody's fiery steeds. In a very short time we passed, at a few
+miles on the hither side of Slough, the "ivy-mantled tower" of Upton
+Church, which, but for one or two small, square openings in it, may be
+mistaken for a gigantic bush, or unshapely tree of evergreen ivy.
+
+Arriving at Slough, I bade adieu to Master Moody; the forty feet
+telescope of Herschel, with its complicated frame-work and machinery,
+attracting only a few minutes attention. The road leading up to Stoke
+Green is one of those beautiful lanes so exquisitely described by
+Gilbert White, in his History of Selborne, or still more graphically
+portrayed by Miss Mitford, in her Tales of our Village. Stoke Green
+lies to the right of this lane, and at the distance of one or two
+fields further on, there is a stile in the corner of one of them, on
+the left, where a foot-path crosses diagonally. In going through a gap
+in the hedge, you catch the first peep of the spire of Stoke Church.
+After passing the field, you come to a narrow lane, overhung with
+hawthorns; it leads from Salt-Hill to the village of West-End Stoke.
+Keeping along the lane a short way, and passing through a small gate
+on the top of the bank, you at once enter the domain of Stoke Park,
+and are admitted to a full view of the church, which stands at a short
+distance, but almost immediately within the gate, are particularly
+struck by the appearance of a grand sarcophagus, erected by Mr. Penn
+to the memory of Gray, in the year 1779. It is a lofty structure, in
+the purest style of architecture; and a tolerable idea of it, and the
+surrounding scenery, may be obtained from the cut at the head of this
+article, which has been executed from a drawing made on the spot. The
+inscription and quotations following are on the several sides of the
+pedestal. It is needless to say they are from the Elegy, and Ode to
+Eton College--the latter poem being unquestionably written from this
+very spot; and Mr. Penn has exhibited the finest taste in their
+selection.
+
+On the end facing Mr. Penn's house--
+
+            THIS MONUMENT,
+       IN HONOR OF THOMAS GRAY,
+    WAS ERECTED, A. D. MDCCXCIX., AMONG
+       THE SCENES CELEBRATED BY THAT
+       GREAT LYRIC AND ELEGIAC POET.
+    HE DIED XXX JULY, MDCCLXXI, AND
+    LIES UNNOTICED IN THE CHURCH-YARD
+    ADJOINING, UNDER THE TOMB-STONE ON
+    WHICH HE PIOUSLY AND PATHETICALLY
+      RECORDED THE INTERMENT OF HIS
+        AUNT AND LAMENTED MOTHER.
+
+On the side looking toward Windsor--
+
+    Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
+    Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove;
+    Now drooping, woful wan, like one forlorn,
+    Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
+
+    One morn I miss'd him on the 'custom'd hill,
+    Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree;
+    Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
+    Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he.
+
+On the end facing Stoke Palace--
+
+      Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
+        That crown the wat'ry glade,
+      Ah! happy hills! Ah, pleasing shade!
+        Ah! fields belov'd in vain!
+    Where once my careless childhood strayed,
+        A stranger yet to pain!
+    I feel the gales that from ye blow,
+        A momentary bliss bestow.
+
+On the west side, looking toward the church-yard--
+
+    Beneath these rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
+    Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,
+    Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
+    The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
+
+    The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
+    And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
+    Await alike th' inevitable hour--
+    The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
+
+This noble monument is erected on a beautiful green mound, and is
+surrounded with flowers. It is protected by a deep trench, in the
+bottom of which is a palisade; but the inclosure may be entered by
+application at one of Mr. Penn's pretty entrance lodges, which is
+close by. The prospects from this part of the park are surpassingly
+beautiful, particularly looking toward the "distant spires and antique
+towers" of Eton and Windsor.
+
+It may be worth while here to remark, that the church and church-yard
+of Stoke is surrounded by Mr. Penn's property, or more properly
+speaking his park.
+
+Coming upon the beautiful monument quite unexpectedly, was not likely
+to diminish the enthusiasm previously entertained; and before
+proceeding to the church-yard, it was impossible to resist the impulse
+of making a rapid memorandum sketch of it. In after years, it was
+carefully and correctly drawn in all its aspects. Proceeding along
+"the churchway path" into the church-yard, where in reality "rests his
+head upon the lap of earth," the tomb-stone of the admired and beloved
+poet was soon found. It is at the east end of the church, nearly under
+a window.
+
+Persons of a cold temperament, and not imbued with the love of poetry,
+may perhaps smile when it is admitted, that the approach to that tomb
+was made with steps as slow and reverential as those of any devout
+Catholic approaching the shrine of his patron saint.
+
+Long was it gazed upon, and frequently was the inscription read, and
+the following cut exhibits the coat of arms and inscriptions on the
+blue marble tabular stone, as they were carefully drawn and copied,
+that very evening:
+
+[Illustration: Coat of Arms and inscriptions]
+
+    IN THE VAULT BENEATH ARE DEPOSITED
+     IN HOPE OF A JOYFUL RESURRECTION,
+             THE REMAINS OF
+             MARY ANTROBUS,
+  SHE DIED UNMARRIED, NOVEMBER 5TH, 1749,
+                AGED 66.
+
+         *    *    *    *    *
+
+    IN THE SAME PIOUS CONFIDENCE,
+    BESIDE HER FRIEND AND SISTER,
+    HERE SLEEP THE REMAINS OF
+           DOROTHY GRAY,
+   WIDOW, THE CAREFUL TENDER MOTHER
+  OF MANY CHILDREN, ONE OF WHOM ALONE
+   HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO SURVIVE HER.
+       SHE DIED MARCH 11TH, 1753,
+                AGED 67.
+
+
+It was a soft, balmy evening; "every leaf was at rest;" the deer in
+the park had betaken themselves to their favorite haunts, under the
+wide-spreading boughs of ancient oaks and elms, and were reposing in
+happy security.
+
+The long continued twilight of England was gathering in, and I still
+lingered in the consecrated inclosure, fascinated with the
+unmistakable antiquity of the church, which, although small as
+compared with many others, is eminently romantic, and I cannot better
+describe the scene, and the feelings impressed at the moment, than in
+the words of one equally near as dear--
+
+    "A holy spell pervades thy gloom,
+      A silent charm breathes all around;
+    And the dread stillness of the tomb
+      Reigns o'er thy hallowed haunted ground."
+
+It may be proper to mention that the poem from which this is
+extracted, is descriptive of Haddon Hall, one of the most ancient and
+perfect specimens of the pure Gothic in England. The poem appeared in
+one of the English Annuals.
+
+At peace with all the world, and filled with emotions of true and
+sincere gratitude to the Giver of all good, for the pure happiness
+then enjoyed, I sank down by the tomb-stone, overpowered with
+veneration, and breathed fervent thanks to HIM who refuses not the
+offering of a humble and contrite heart.
+
+This narrative is meant to be a faithful and honest representation of
+_facts_ and _circumstances_ that actually occurred, and it is firmly
+believed that none can stray into an ancient secluded country
+church-yard, during the decline of day, without deeply meditating on
+those who for ages have slept below, and where ALL must soon sleep,
+without feeling true devotion, and forming resolves for future and
+amended conduct.
+
+Slowly quitting the church-yard, and approaching the elevated
+monument, now become almost sublime as the shades of evening rendered
+dim its classic outline, it was impossible to avoid lingering some
+time longer beside it, recalling various passages of the Elegy
+appropriate to the occasion; the landscape was indeed "glimmering on
+the sight," and there was a "solemn stillness in the air," well
+befitting the occasion; more particularly appropriate was that fine
+stanza, which, although written by Gray, is omitted in all editions of
+the Elegy except the one hereafter noticed, in where it was
+re-incorporated by the editor, [the present writer,] in consequence of
+a suggestion kindly offered in a letter from Granville Penn, Esq.,
+then residing with his brother at Stoke Park.
+
+    Hark! how the sacred calm that breathes around
+      Bids every fierce tumultuous passion cease;
+    In still small accents whispering from the ground,
+      A grateful earnest of eternal peace.
+
+The Elegy is undoubtedly the most popular poem in the English
+language; it was translated into that of every country in Europe,
+besides Latin and Greek. It has been more frequently, elaborately and
+expensively illustrated with pictorial embellishments. The autograph
+copy of it, in the poet's small, neat hand, written on two small half
+sheets of paper, was sold last year for no less than _one hundred
+pounds sterling_; and the spirited purchaser was most appropriately
+the proprietor of Stoke Park, Granville John Penn, Esq., who at the
+same sale gave _forty-five pounds_ for the autograph copy of The Long
+Story, and _one hundred and five pounds_ for the Odes; whilst another
+gentleman gave forty pounds for two short poems and a letter from the
+illustrious poet on the death of his father.
+
+The truthfulness of the pictures presented to the imagination in the
+Elegy could not be denied, for there, on the very spot where, beyond
+all question, it was composed, and after a lapse of nearly one hundred
+years, the images which impressed the mind of the inspired poet came
+fresh at every turn. It is true the curfew did not toll, but the
+"lowing herd" were as distinctly audible as the beetle wheeling his
+droning flight. The yew tree's shade--that identical tree, to which,
+to a moral certainty, the poet had reference--is represented in the
+cut, in the corner of the inclosure, as distinctly as the smallness of
+the scale admitted, underneath its shade the "turf lies in many a
+mouldering heap," and the "rugged elms" are outside the inclosure, but
+their outstretched arms overspread many a "narrow cell and frail
+memorial," where the "rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep," and
+where also "their name and years are spelt by th' unlettered muse." A
+singular error in spelling _the name_ of one of those humble persons,
+was however committed by the poet himself in his "Long Story," very
+pardonable in him, however, as the party was then alive; but that the
+error should have been perpetuated in ALL EDITIONS save one, down to
+that entitled "The Eton," being printed there, and edited by a
+reverend clergyman resident in the college, is somewhat singular;
+moreover the _second_ edition of the Eton Gray appeared this very
+year, and the error remains, although the name is correctly given on
+the grave-stone. The excepted edition, in which alone it is correctly
+given, was published in 1821, and edited by the present writer for his
+friend Mr. John Sharpe. The circumstance will be noticed presently.
+
+The Elegy of Gray was evidently written under the influence of strong
+feeling, and vivid impressions of the beautiful in the scenery around
+him, and when his sensitive mind was overspread with melancholy, in
+consequence of the death of his young, amiable and accomplished friend
+West, to whom, in June, 1742, he addressed his lovely Ode to Spring,
+which was written at Stoke; but before it reached his friend he was
+numbered with the dead! So true was the friendship subsisting between
+them, that the poet of Stoke was overpowered with a melancholy which,
+although subdued, lasted during a great part of his life.
+
+The scenes amid which the Elegy was composed were well adapted to
+soothe and cherish that contemplative sadness which, when the wounds
+of grief are healing, it is a luxury to indulge, and that the poet did
+indulge them is self-evident in many a line.
+
+In returning to Stoke Green to spend the night, some of the rustic
+peasantry were wending their way down the lane to the same place, but
+none of these simple people, although questioned, could tell aught of
+him whose fame and works had induced the pilgrimage to Stoke; neither
+did better success attend any succeeding inquiry at the village. So
+universally true is that scriptural saying, like ALL the sayings of
+HIM who uttered it, that a prophet is not without honor, save in his
+own country and in his own house.
+
+Retiring to rest early, with a full determination to do that which had
+often been resolved but never accomplished, that is, to rise with the
+dawn; the resolution had nearly defeated the purpose, inasmuch as the
+mind being surcharged with the past and the expected, there was little
+inclination to sleep until after midnight. But a full and fixed
+determination of the will overcomes greater difficulties, and the
+first streak of light at break of day found me up and dressed, and of
+a truth
+
+    Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
+    To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
+
+The dawn was most lovely, and the perfume from the hawthorns
+delicious; every thing indicated a beautiful day. The sarcophagus
+stands on the most elevated spot, and there, where probably in days
+long past the poet had watched the rising of the sun, did I, a humble
+pilgrim at his shrine, await the same sublime spectacle.
+
+As if to gratify a long cherished desire, the sun did rise with a
+splendor impossible to be exceeded, and the following lines, by an
+anonymous author, immediately recurred to memory:
+
+    O who can paint the rapture of the soul,
+      As o'er the scene the sun first steals to sight,
+    And all the world of vapors as they roll,
+      And heaven's vast arch unveils in living light.
+
+To witness the break of day in the country is indeed a luxury to which
+the inhabitants of cities are strangers. As the sun rose from the
+horizon, his increasing light brought into view myriads of dew-drops
+on every bud and blossom, which glittered and shone like diamonds. The
+sky-larks began to rise from their grassy beds among the daisies,
+ascending in circles to the clouds, and caroling a music which is
+almost heavenly to hear. The deer also were getting up from their
+shadowy lair under the trees, and the young fawns sprung away and took
+to flight as I passed a herd, under a clump of beeches, in order to
+obtain a view of the ancient mansion. In approaching it, a sound,
+familiar indeed but far from musical, struck the ear, and added
+another proof and a fresh charm to the fidelity of the picture drawn
+by the poet. The swallows were merrily "twittering" about the
+gable-ends, and it did the heart good to stand watching the probable
+successors of those active little visiters, whose predecessors had
+possibly attracted the notice of the bard. It is well known that these
+birds, like the orchard oriole, return year after year to the same
+house, and haunt where they had previously reared their young.[2]
+
+A strong and perhaps natural desire to inspect the interior of all
+that remained of the ancient mansion of the Huntingdons and Hattons
+was defeated, inasmuch as it was found barricaded. Imagination had
+been busy for many a year, in respect to its great hall and gallery,
+its rich windows "and passages that lead to nothing;" but as access to
+the interior was denied, the sketch-book was put in requisition, and
+an accurate view soon secured.
+
+Observing at some distance, through a vista among the trees, a lofty
+pillar with a statue on its summit, and proceeding thither, it was
+found to be another of those splendid ornaments with which the taste
+and liberality of the proprietor had adorned his park, being erected
+to the memory of Sir Edward Coke, whose statue it was which surmounted
+the capital. Whilst engaged in sketching this truly classic object, a
+gentleman approached, who introduced himself as Mr. Osborne, the
+superintendent of the demesne. He expressed pleasure at seeing the
+sketches, and politely offered every facility for making such, but
+hinted that Mr. Penn had scruples, and very proper ones, about
+strangers approaching too near the house on the Sabbath day, to make
+sketches of objects in its vicinity.
+
+[Footnote 2: A pair of Baltimore birds (the orchard oriole) returned
+summer after summer, and built their hanging nest, not only in the
+same apple-tree, but on the same bough, which overhung a terrace, in a
+garden belonging to the writer at Geneva, New York, until one season a
+terrific storm, not of hail but ice, tore the nest from the tree, and
+killed the young, and the parent birds never afterward returned.]
+
+Mr. Osborne's offer was courteously made, and the consequence was that
+many visits to Stoke afterward took place, and the whole of the
+interesting scenery carefully sketched. He kindly pointed out all that
+was most worthy of attention about the estate and neighborhood, and
+made tender of his company to visit West-End, and show the house which
+Gray, and his mother and aunt had for many years occupied. The
+proprietor he said was Captain Salter, in whose family it had remained
+for a great many generations. Latterly the house has been purchased,
+enlarged, and put into complete repair by Mr. Granville John Penn, the
+present proprietor, nephew of John Penn, Esq., who died in June, 1834.
+After "a hasty" breakfast at Stoke Green, the church-yard was again
+visited, and there was not a grave-stone in it which was not examined
+and read. The error formerly alluded to was immediately detected. The
+passages in the Long Story, describing the mock trial at the "Great
+House," before Lady Cobham, may be worth transcribing.
+
+    Fame, in the shape of Mr. Purt,[3]
+      (By this time all the parish know it,)
+    Had told that thereabouts there lurked
+      A wicked imp they call a poet:
+    Who prowled the country far and near,
+      Bewitched the children of the peasants,
+    Dried up the cows and lamed the deer,
+      And sucked the eggs and killed the pheasants.
+
+              *    *    *    *    *
+
+    The court was sat, the culprit there,
+      Forth from their gloomy mansions creeping,
+    The Lady Janes and Joans repair,
+      And from the gallery stand peeping:
+    Such in the silence of the night
+      Come (sweep) along some winding entry,
+    (Styack has often seen the sight,)
+      Or at the chapel-door stand sentry:
+    In peaked hoods and mantles tarnished
+      Sour visages enough to scare ye,
+    High dames of honor once who garnished
+      The drawing-room of fierce Queen Mary.
+
+              *    *    *    *    *
+
+    The bard with many an artful fib
+      Had in imagination fenced him,
+    Disproved the arguments of Squib
+      And all that Groom could urge against him.
+
+[Footnote 3: In all editions but that published by Mr. John Sharpe the
+initial _only_ of this name has been given--"Mr. P."--even the Eton
+edition of this year has it so. It seems folly to continue what may
+have been very proper nearly a hundred years ago, when the individual
+was alive; but the Rev. Robert Purt died in April, 1752!]
+
+Finding on the stone alluded to, that it was to the memory of Mrs. Ann
+Tyacke, who died in 1753, it occurred that this was the Styack of the
+poem, where a foot-note in a copy then and there consulted, stated her
+to have been the housekeeper; and on inquiring of Mr. Osborne, he
+confirmed the conjecture. Two other foot-notes state Squib to have
+been _groom_ of the chamber, and that Groom was steward; but finding
+another head-stone (both are represented in the large wood-cut,
+although not exactly in the situations they occupy in the church-yard)
+close to that of Mrs. Tyacke, to the memory of _William_ Groom, who
+died 1751, it appears to offer evidence that Gray mistook the _name_
+of the one for the _office_ of the other. The Eton edition has not a
+single foot-note from beginning to end of the volume. It is dedicated
+to Mr. Granville John Penn, and his "kind assistance _during the
+progress of the work_" acknowledged, both in its illustrations, and in
+the biographical sketch, not withstanding which "assistance," the
+error of the house-keeper's name is continued; and amongst the
+wood-cut illustrations, there is one entitled (both _in_ the list and
+_on_ the cut) "Stoke Church, east end, with tablet to Gray," when, in
+fact, it represents the _tomb-stone_ at the end of the church, under
+which Gray and his mother are interred. The _tablet_ to Gray is quite
+another thing, _that_ was lately inserted in the wall of the church;
+but by some extraordinary blunder it records his death as having taken
+place on the 1st of August, while on the sarcophagus it is stated to
+have occurred on the 30th of July. Neither the one nor the other is
+correct. The Gentleman's Magazine for 1771, and the Annual Register
+for the same year, as well as Mathias' Life, 2 vols. 4to., 1814, all
+concur in giving it as having taken place on the 31st. The Etonian
+edition has it the 30th. After a considerable time spent in the
+church-yard, the hour of public worship drew near, the aged sexton
+appeared, opened the doors, and began to toll the bell--that same
+ancient bell which, century after century, had "rung in" generation
+after generation, and tolled at their funerals. It is difficult to
+realize the feelings excited on entering a sacred edifice of very
+ancient date, particularly if it is in the country, secluded amongst
+aged trees, looking as old as itself; and in walking over the stone
+floor, which, although so seldom trodden, is worn away into something
+like channels; in sitting in the same antique, and curiously carved,
+black oaken pews, which had been sat on by races of men who had
+occupied the same seats hundreds of years long past; but the effect is
+greatly increased on viewing the effigies of the mighty dead, lying on
+their marble beds, in long and low niches in the walls, some with the
+palms of their hands pressed together and pointing upward, as if in
+the act of supplication; and others grasping their swords, and having
+their legs _crossed_, indicating that they had fought _for_ the cross
+in the Holy Land. Such a church, and such objects around, fill the
+mind with true devotion. The sublime words of Milton work out the
+picture to perfection.
+
+    There let the pealing organ blow
+    To the full-voiced quire below,
+    In service high, and anthems clear,
+    As may with sweetness through mine ear
+    Dissolve me into extasies,
+    And bring all heaven before mine eyes.
+
+It was gratifying and affecting to witness the piety, humility, and
+devotion of the congregation as they entered and took their seats in
+silence, long before the venerable clergyman entered the church; there
+was something exceedingly touching in the profound silence that
+reigned throughout the congregation, and induced one to think highly
+of that rule amongst those excellent people, who with great propriety
+are termed Friends. Public worship was attended both in the morning
+and afternoon, and I returned to London, feeling myself a much better
+man than when I left it, with a full determination to revisit a place
+where so much pleasure had been received. It was nearly three months
+before the resolve was carried into effect; but a second excursion was
+made in August, and Mr. Osborne was kind enough to show the house at
+West-End, together with the celebrated Burnham beeches, amongst which
+were several "which wreathed their old fantastic roots so high,"
+evidently the originals alluded to in the Elegy. They are scarcely a
+mile from West-End, and are approached through another of those sweet
+green lanes with which the neighborhood abounds. They are part of the
+original forest. The spot was one of Gray's favorite haunts; and it
+would be difficult to find one better fitted for a lover of nature,
+and a contemplative mind. Late in the autumn an invitation was
+received from Mr. Osborne to spend a day or two with him; but it was
+not until the beginning of November that advantage could be taken of
+it. Arriving at his house late in the afternoon, his servant informed
+me he had been suddenly called away to the Isle of Portland, in
+Dorsetshire, where Mr. Penn was erecting a castle. She also apologized
+for Mrs. Osborne's inability to receive company, in consequence of "a
+particular circumstance," which circumstance she blushingly
+acknowledged was the birth of a fine boy the night before. There was
+no resource, therefore, but to walk down either to Stoke Green, or to
+Salt-Hill, where there are two well-known taverns. Before proceeding,
+however, the church-yard, almost of necessity, must be visited; and
+although in a direct line, it was not far from Mr. Osborne's house, a
+considerable circuit had to be made to get into the inclosure. The
+evening was particularly still--you could have heard a leaf fall; the
+twilight was just setting in, and a haze, or fog, coming on, but the
+spot was soon reached; and whilst kneeling, engaged, like Old
+Mortality, in plucking some weeds and long grass, which had sprung up
+about _the_ tomb since the last visit, a slight sound--a very gentle
+rustle--struck the ear. I supposed it to be the ivy on the
+church-wall, but the next instant it was followed by a movement--something
+very near was certainly approaching. On looking up, it is impossible
+to describe with what mixed feelings of astonishment, apprehension,
+and awe, I beheld coming from a corner of the church-yard, (where
+there was no ingress through the brick wall,) and directly toward the
+spot where I knelt, the figure of a tall, majestic lady, dressed in a
+black velvet pelisse, black velvet hat, surmounted by a plume of black
+ostrich feathers. She was stepping slowly toward me, over the graves.
+It would be useless to deny that fear fixed me to the spot on
+beholding the expression of her very serious face, and her eyes firmly
+fixed on mine.
+
+Appalled by her sudden appearance, it seemed as if she had just risen
+from the grave, dressed in a funeral pall; for I was facing toward
+that corner of the enclosure from which she was coming, and feeling
+certain no human being was there one minute before, I was breathless
+with apprehension, and glad to rest one arm on the tomb-stone until
+she came close up to me.
+
+[Illustration: In the Grave-yard--P. Balmanno]
+
+With a graceful inclination of the head, she addressed me.
+
+"Mr. B----, I believe?"
+
+"Yes, madam, that is my name."
+
+"And you came down to visit Mr. Osborne, who has been called away to
+Portland."
+
+I breathed more freely as I admitted it.
+
+"It happens," she continued, "to be inconvenient for Mrs. Osborne to
+receive you, and as you came by invitation from her husband, if you
+will accept a night's lodging from me, I am enabled to offer it. I am
+Mr. Penn's housekeeper, and none of the family are at home."
+
+Most joyfully was the invitation accepted; my mind was relieved from a
+very unpleasant load of apprehension--but the end was not yet! She
+began to lead the way over the graves, exactly toward the spot from
+whence she had so suddenly and mysteriously appeared; after proceeding
+a few steps, I ventured to say--
+
+"Pray, madam, may I be allowed to inquire where you are leading to? I
+can see no egress in that direction, unless it be into an open grave
+or under a tomb-stone."
+
+"Oh, you will find that out presently," replied the lady, transfixing
+me with a glance of her bright blue eyes, and I thought I could detect
+a rather equivocal expression about the corners of her beautiful
+mouth. This was not very encouraging, and not much liked, but she was
+a woman, and a lovely one, too much so by half to be a Banshee--I was
+on my guard, however, and ready, but the fog became so thick it was
+impossible to see three steps before us; in fact, it rolled over the
+church-yard wall in clouds. The lady linked her arm in mine, to
+prevent herself from stumbling, holding up her dress with the other
+hand, as the long dank grass was wetting it. At last we arrived in the
+very corner of the church-yard, she still keeping a firm hold of my
+arm.
+
+"In Heaven's name, madam, what do you mean by leading me into this
+corner?"
+
+"Oh, you are afraid, I see; but wait a moment."
+
+On saying which, I observed her to take something bright from her
+girdle, which apprehension converted into a stiletto or dirk, and such
+is the force of self-preservation, that I was on the point of tripping
+her up and throwing her on her back. But thrusting the supposed dirk
+against the wall--presto--open sesame--the wall gave way, and she drew
+me through a doorway. This was done so quickly it absolutely seemed
+magic. For an instant I thought of dropping her arm--indeed I should
+have done so, and retreated back through the door, but she held my arm
+tight, and I almost quaked, for I thought she had dragged me into a
+secret vault, the manoeuvre was performed so adroitly. The drifting
+cold fog, however, soon made it plain we were in no vault, but the
+open park. In short, it was a door in the wall, flush with the bricks,
+and painted so exactly like them, it was impossible for a stranger to
+discover it. It was Mr. Penn's private entrance, and saved the family
+a walk of some distance. A narrow green walk, not previously remarked,
+led from the door to the west end of the church.
+
+The housekeeper of a nobleman or gentleman of wealth, in England,
+generally enjoys an enviable situation. Intrusted with much that is
+valuable, she is generally a person of the highest consideration and
+respect, and seldom fails to acquire the elevated manners and refined
+address of her superiors. The lady in question was exactly one of this
+description, well educated, and well read; a magnificent library was
+at her command, and having much time, and what is better, fine taste,
+she had profited by it. Never was an evening passed in greater
+comfort, or with a more agreeable companion. After partaking of that
+most exhilarating of all beverages, the pure hyson, we began to chat
+with almost the same freedom as though we had been long acquainted.
+During a pause in the conversation, after looking in my face a moment,
+she said--
+
+"Will you answer me one question?"
+
+"Most certainly, any thing, you choose to ask."
+
+"But will you answer it honestly and truly?"
+
+"Do not doubt it."
+
+"Well, then, tell me, were you not most horribly afraid when you saw
+me coming toward you in the church-yard?"
+
+"I do frankly confess, madam, I _was horribly_ afraid, and further, I
+firmly believe I should have taken to my heels, had you not been a
+very beautiful woman!"
+
+Before the sentence was well finished her laughter was irrepressible.
+
+"I _knew_ it, I _saw_ it, I _intended_ it," said she, laughing so
+heartily that the tears sprung out of her beautiful eyes, and she was
+obliged to use her handkerchief to wipe them away.
+
+"And do you feel no compunction for scaring a poor fellow half out of
+his wits?"
+
+"None whatever," replied she gayly. "What could you expect when
+prowling amongst the graves in a church-yard so lone and solitary,
+like a goule, on a damp November night? I saw you from Mr. Osborne's
+going toward it, and determined to startle you--and I think I
+succeeded pretty effectually."
+
+"You did, and had very nearly met with your reward, for when in the
+corner of that church-yard you pulled the key from your girdle, fully
+believing you to be the Evil One, I was on the point of strangling
+you."
+
+Much laughter at my expense ensued, for the lady lacked neither wit
+nor humor, and the evening flew faster than desired. On retiring, a
+man servant conducted me to an apartment on the upper floor of the
+mansion, and sleep soon came and soon went, for an innumerable number
+of rats and mice were careering all over the bed! and I felt them
+sniffing about my nose and mouth; I sprang bolt upright, striking
+right and left like a madman. This sent them pattering all about the
+room, and dreading that I might find myself minus a nose or an ear
+before morning, I groped all around the room for a bell, but could
+find none; proceeding into the corridor and standing on tip-toe,
+bell-wires were soon found, and soon set a ringing; watching at the
+top of the very long staircase, a light was at last seen ascending,
+borne in the hand of a very fat man, who proved to be the butler; he
+had nothing on but his shirt, and a huge pair of red plush, which
+enveloped his nether bulk. Puffing with the exertion of ascending so
+many stairs, he at last saw me, still more lightly clothed than
+himself, and inquired what I wanted?
+
+"Have you got a cat about the house?"
+
+"No, sir, we have no cats, they destroy the young pheasants."
+
+"A dog, then?"
+
+"No dog, sir, on account of the deer."
+
+"Then tell the housekeeper there are ten thousand rats and twenty
+thousand mice in the room I occupy!"
+
+As he descended the stair he was heard mumbling,
+"cats!"--"dogs!"--"rats!"--"mice!" and chuckling ready to burst his
+fat sides.
+
+After long waiting, the reflection of light on his red plush smalls
+(_greats_ would better describe them) flashed up like a streak of
+lightning, and puffing harder than before, told me if I would follow
+him down stairs, he had orders to show me to another room.
+
+Gathering up the articles of my dress over my arm, we descended, and I
+was shown into a room of almost regal splendor. The lofty bedstead had
+a canopy, terminating in a gilded coronet, and the ample hangings were
+of rich Venetian crimson velvet, trimmed and festooned "about, around
+and underneath." The ascent to this unusually lofty bed was by a
+flight of superb steps, covered with rich embossed velvet. Out of the
+royal palaces I had never seen such a bed.
+
+In consequence of having stood so long undressed on the marble floor
+at the top of the stairs, shivering with cold, the magnificent bed, on
+getting into it, was found comfortable beyond expression. It felt as
+if it would never cease yielding under the pressure; it sunk down,
+down, down--there appeared no stop to its declension; and then its
+delicious warmth--what a luxury to a shivering man! Hugging myself
+under the idea of a glorious night's rest, and composing myself in the
+easiest possible position, it was more desirable to lay awake in such
+full enjoyment, than to sleep--sleep had lost all its charms. I was in
+the bed of beds--the celestial!
+
+After thus laying about twenty minutes, enjoying perfect bliss, a
+sensation of some uneasiness began slowly to manifest itself, which
+induced a change of position; but the change did not relieve the
+uncomfortable feeling. It would be difficult to describe it, but it
+increased every moment, until at last it seemed as if the points of a
+hundred thousand fine needles were puncturing every pore. This was
+borne with great resignation and equanimity for some time, expecting
+it would go off; but the stinging sensation increased, and finally
+became intolerable; the celestial bed became one of infernal torture.
+I tossed, and dashed, and threw about my limbs in all directions, and
+almost bellowed like a mad bull.
+
+What to do to relieve the torment I knew not. To ask for another bed
+was out of the question, and to attempt to sleep on thorns--thorns!
+they would have been thought a luxury to this of lying enduring the
+pains of the doomed. After long endurance of the pain, and in racking
+my brains considering what was best to be done, the intolerable
+sensations began by degrees to subside and grow less and less; but the
+heat, although nearly insupportable, was more easily endured. That
+horrible night was a long one--and long will it be before it is
+forgotten.
+
+Coming down in the morning, expecting to find the lady all smiles and
+graces, I was surprised and hurt to find she received me rather
+coldly, and with averted head; but when she could no longer avoid
+turning round, never, in the whole course of my life, was I more
+astonished at the change she had undergone. It was a total, a radical
+change--she was hardly to be recognized--and it was scarcely possible
+to believe she was the lovely woman of the last night. Not that her
+splendid figure was altered--in fact, an elegant morning-dress rather
+tended to improve and set-off her full and almost voluptuous contour,
+and her soft, sweet voice was equally musical; but her face--the
+charms of her lovely face were vanished and gone!
+
+Every one will admit that the nose is a most important, nay, a very
+prominent feature in female beauty. It is indispensible that a belle
+should have a beautiful nose; in fact, it is a question whether a
+woman without an eye would not be preferable to one with--but I
+anticipate.
+
+"I see your surprise, sir," said she, with evident chagrin, "but it is
+all owing to you."
+
+"To _me_, madam! I presume you allude to the altered appearance of
+your face, but I cannot conceive what I can have had to do with the
+change."
+
+In brief, her beautiful nose was all over as red as scarlet,
+particularly the point of it, which exactly resembled a large red
+cherry, or ripe Siberian crab-apple. Now just think of it--a very fair
+woman with a blood-red nose! Faugh! it is enough to sicken the most
+devoted admirer of the sex. Suppose any gentleman going to be married,
+and full of love and admiration, should, on going to the house of his
+beloved bride on the appointed morning, to take her to church, humming
+to himself that sweet song, "She Wove a Wreath of Roses," finds her
+beautiful nose become a big rosy nosegay--would he not be apt to
+suppose she had over night been making pretty free sacrifices, not to
+the little god of love, but to jolly Bacchus? I did not do _my_ belle
+such an injustice--and yet what could I think?
+
+"How do you make out that I had any thing to do with such an important
+alteration, madam."
+
+"O, as easy as it is true. Did not your wo-begone terrors in the
+church-yard throw me into immoderate fits of laughter, as you well
+know? And did not your adventures, after you retired, when reported to
+me, throw me all but into convulsions--the more I thought, the more I
+laughed, until it brought on a nervous headache so intense, it felt as
+if my head would have split? To relieve so distressing a pain, I took
+a bottle of eau de cologne to bed with me, and pulling out the
+stopper, propped it up by the pillow, right under my nose. I quite
+forgot it, and fell asleep with the bottle in that position."
+
+"Ah!" said I, "I suspected _the bottle_ had something to do with it."
+
+"Quite true, quite true--but not the bottle you wickedly insinuate.
+How long I slept I know not, it must have been a long time; when I
+awoke, I was surprised to find my shoulder cold and wet--and then I
+recollected the bottle of cologne; but what was my horror, on getting
+up, to behold my face in this frightful condition, you may easily
+imagine."
+
+Poor, dear lady, if she laughed heartily at the scare she gave me in
+the church-yard, I now had my revenge, full and ample--for I could not
+refrain from laughing outright every time I looked in her face; and
+laughter, when it is hearty and hilarious, is catching, almost as much
+as yawning; and I fancy few will dispute how potent, how Mesmeric, or
+magnetic the effect of an outstretched arm and wide gaping oscitation
+is. I declare, I caught myself gaping the other night on seeing my
+wife's white cat stretch herself on the rug, and yawn.
+
+"I really should feel obliged if you would be polite enough to keep
+your eye off my face," said the lady.
+
+Now it need hardly be remarked, that when any thing is the matter with
+a person's face, be it a wall-eye, a squint, a cancer, very bad teeth,
+or any such disfigurement or malady, it is impossible to look at any
+other spot--it is sure to fix your gaze, you can look at no other
+part; you cannot keep your eye off it, unless you are more generous,
+or better bred than most men.
+
+"I really should feel obliged if you would be polite enough to keep
+your eye off my nose; it puts me out of countenance," said the fair
+one. She said this half earnest, half jest; and I obliged her, by
+directing my looks to her taper fingers and white hands--and the
+conversation proceeded with the breakfast.
+
+"May I inquire how you rested, after your escape from the ten thousand
+rats, and twenty thousand mice, which attacked you before you changed
+your room?"
+
+"Do you ask the question seriously?"
+
+"Certainly I do."
+
+"Why, then, to use a homely but a very expressive phrase, it was out
+of the frying-pan into the fire."
+
+"Mercy on us! how can that be; you had what is considered the best bed
+in the house."
+
+"O, I dare say--no doubt, the softest I ever lay in; but instead of
+ten thousand rats, and twenty thousand mice, I had not been in it
+fifteen minutes ere a hundred and twenty thousand hornets, wasps,
+scorpions, and centipedes, two or three thousand hedge-hogs, and as
+many porcupines, seemed to be full drive at me; and had I not soon
+been relieved by perspiration, I should assuredly have gone mad, and
+been in bedlam. Nervous headache! Why, madam, it would have been
+considered paradise, compared with the purgatory you inflicted on me."
+
+Her eyes sparkled with glee--and she began to laugh joyously; but soon
+checking herself, and assuming a sort of mock sympathy, said,
+
+"I am very sorry--_very_ sorry, indeed, that you should have found
+your bed so like the love of some men, rather hot to hold."
+
+On inquiring whether the grand coroneted bed, which had been as a hot
+gridiron to me, was intended for any particular person, she informed
+me it was for a Russian nobleman, Baron Nicholay, a much respected
+friend of Mr. Penn's, who sometimes visited Stoke, and who, being used
+to a bed of down in the cold climate of his own country, Mr. Penn,
+with his characteristic kindness and attention, had it prepared for
+the baron's especial comfort. She added that the reason why Mr. Penn
+had all his life remained a bachelor, was in consequence of an early
+attachment which he had formed for the baron's sister; that they were
+to have been married, but in driving the lady in a _drouschky_, or
+sledge, on the ice of the Neva, at St. Petersburg, by some fatality
+the ice gave way, and notwithstanding the most strenuous exertions of
+her lover, and the servant who stood behind the sled, the lady, by the
+force of the current, was swept away under the ice, and never
+afterward seen. That this shocking accident had such effect on Mr.
+Penn's mind, as well it might, he never could think of any other
+woman, but remained true and constant to his first love, mourning her
+tragic end all his life.
+
+This was exactly the case with that most amiable and gifted man, the
+late Sir Thomas Lawrence, who being engaged and about to be married to
+a daughter of the celebrated Mrs. Siddons, the young lady was suddenly
+snatched from him by a rapid consumption; and Sir Thomas remained
+faithful to her beloved memory, wearing mourning during his life, and
+ever after used black wax in sealing his letters, as the writer can
+prove by many, many received from him during a series of years until
+his lamented death.
+
+On asking my intelligent companion if she knew any particulars
+respecting Gray, she replied she did know a great deal regarding him;
+that Mr. Penn idolized his memory, and had made collections respecting
+him and the personages mentioned in the Long Story. At my pressing
+solicitation she was good enough to say she would write out all the
+particulars--a promise which she faithfully kept; and they may
+hereafter appear in some shape.
+
+The morning proving foggy and damp, the time (instead of going to
+church) was passed in the library--a magnificent room, nearly two
+hundred feet long, extending the whole length of the building, and
+filled with books from floor to ceiling.
+
+In one of the principal rooms, mounted upon a pedestal, there is a
+large piece of the identical tree under the shade of which Mr. Penn's
+celebrated ancestor, William, signed his treaty with the Indians,
+constituting him Lord Proprietary of what was afterward, and what will
+ever be, Pennsylvania. The piece of wood is part of a large limb,
+about five feet long. The tree was blown down in 1812, and the portion
+in question was transmitted by Dr. Rush to Mr. Penn, who had it
+varnished in its original state, and a brass plate affixed to it, with
+an inscription.
+
+The sun broke through the fog about twelve o'clock, and had as
+cheering an effect on the landscape, as it almost invariably has on
+the mind. In the afternoon, after a most delightful day spent with the
+fair housekeeper, it became time to think of returning to London, and
+as the distance would be much lessened by proceeding through Mr.
+Penn's grounds, and going down to Salt-Hill instead of Slough, the
+lady offered to accompany me to the extent of the shrubberies, and
+point out the way. These enchanting shrubberies are adorned with busts
+of the Roman and English poets, placed on antique terms, along the
+well-kept, smooth gravel-walks, which wind about in many a serpentine
+direction through the grounds. There are appropriate quotations from
+the works of the different bards, placed on the front of each
+terminus. The bust of Gray, is placed under an ancient wide-spreading
+oak, with this inscription:
+
+    Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
+    A broader, browner shade;
+    Where'er the rude moss-grown beech
+    O'er canopies the glade,
+    With me the muse shall sit and think,
+    At ease reclined in rustic state.
+
+There is an elegant small building, inscribed "The Temple of Fancy,"
+in which a bust of the immortal Shakspeare is the only ornament. It is
+on a small knoll, commanding an extensive prospect through the trees,
+which are opened like a fan. Windsor Castle terminates this lovely
+view. Within the temple there is a long inscription from the Merry
+Wives of Windsor, Act 5, sc. 5, beginning thus,
+
+    Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out;
+    Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room;
+    That it may stand till the perpetual doom,
+    In state as wholesome, as in state 'tis fit,
+    Worthy the owner, and the owner it.
+
+The grounds, laid out with so much fine taste, terminate in a lovely
+little dell, sheltered on every side. In the centre there is a circle
+bordered with box, and growing within it, a collection of all the
+known varieties of heath. The plants were then in full flower, and
+innumerable honey-bees were feeding and buzzing. To one who, in early
+life, had been accustomed to tread the heath-covered hills of
+Scotland, the unexpected sight of these blooming plants of the
+mountain was a treat; and the effect was heightened on seeing the bust
+of Scotia's most admired bard, Thomson, adorning it. The inscription
+was from that sublime, almost divine hymn, with which the Seasons
+conclude, and eminently well applied to the heath, as some one or
+other of the varieties blossom nearly all the year through.
+
+   These, as they change, Almighty Father, these,
+   Are but the varied God. The rolling year
+   Is full of thee.
+
+In that secluded dell I bade a sorrowful and unwilling adieu to the
+lady who had shown such extraordinary politeness. It may be worth the
+while to mention that she was soon after married, much against the
+wish of Mr. Penn, who had a great aversion to any changes in his
+establishment; for a kinder, a better, a more pious, or more
+accomplished gentleman than the late John Penn, of Stoke Park, England
+could not boast.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+In consequence of the extraordinary prices lately paid for the
+autograph copies of Gray's poems, more particularly that of the Elegy,
+it has been thought it would be acceptable to the readers of the
+Magazine to be presented with a _fac simile_. The following have
+therefore been traced, and engraved with great care and accuracy, from
+the first and last stanzas of the Elegy, and the signature from a
+letter. These will give an exact idea of the peculiarly neat and
+elegant handwriting of the Poet of Stoke.
+
+[Illustration: handwritten poem by Gray
+
+The Curfew tolls the Knell of parting Day,
+The lowing Herd wind slowly o'er the Lea,
+The Plowman homeward plods his weary Way,
+And leaves the World to Darkness & to me.
+
+    No farther seek his merits to disclose,
+Or draw his Frailties from their dread Abode,
+(There they alike in trembling Hope repose)
+The Bosom of his Father, & his God.
+
+    Your humble Serv^t      T. Gray]
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+
+
+
+THE SAW-MILL.
+
+FROM THE GERMAN OF KORNER.
+
+BY WILLIAM C. BRYANT.
+
+
+    In yonder mill I rested,
+      And sat me down to look
+    Upon the wheel's quick glimmer.
+      And on the flowing brook.
+
+    As in a dream, before me,
+      The saw, with restless play,
+    Was cleaving through a fir-tree
+      Its long and steady way.
+
+    The tree through all its fibres
+      With living motion stirred,
+    And, in a dirge-like murmur,
+      These solemn words I heard--
+
+    Oh, thou, who wanderest hither,
+      A timely guest thou art!
+    For thee this cruel engine
+      Is passing through my heart.
+
+    When soon, in earth's still bosom,
+      Thy hours of rest begin,
+    This wood shall form the chamber
+      Whose walls shall close thee in.
+
+    Four planks--I saw and shuddered--
+      Dropped in that busy mill;
+    Then, as I tried to answer,
+      At once the wheel was still.
+
+
+
+
+EFFIE MORRIS.
+
+OR LOVE AND PRIDE.
+
+BY ENNA DUVAL.
+
+    So changes mortal Life with fleeting years;
+      A mournful change, should Reason fail to bring
+    The timely insight that can temper fears,
+      And from vicissitude remove its sting;
+    While Faith aspires to seats in that domain
+    Where joys are perfect--neither wax nor wane. WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+It was a warm, cloudy, sultry summer morning--scarcely a breath of air
+stirred the clematis and woodbine blossoms that peeped in and
+clustered around the breakfast-room window, greeting us with fresh
+fragrance; but on this morning no pleasant air breathed sighingly over
+them, and they looked drooping and faded. I was visiting my friend
+Effie Morris, who resided in a pleasant country village, some twenty
+or thirty miles from my city home. We were both young, and had been
+school-girl friends from early childhood. The preceding winter had
+been our closing session at school, and we were about entering our
+little world as women. Effie was an only daughter of a widowed mother.
+Possessing comfortable means, they lived most pleasantly in their
+quiet romantic little village. Effie had stayed with me during the
+winters of her school-days, while I had always returned the compliment
+by spending the summer months at her pleasant home. Her mother was
+lovely both in mind and disposition, and though she had suffered much
+from affliction, she still retained youthful and sympathizing
+feelings. Effie was gentle and beautiful, and the most innocent,
+unsophisticated little enthusiast that ever breathed. She had arrived
+at the age of seventeen, and to my certain knowledge had never felt
+the first heart-throb; never had been in love. In vain had we attended
+the dancing-school balls, and little parties. A host of boy-lovers
+surrounded the little set to which we belonged, and yet Effie remained
+entirely heart-whole. She never flirted, never sentimentalized with
+gentlemen, and she was called cold and matter-of-fact, by those who
+judged her alone by her manner; but one glance in her soft, dove-like
+eyes, it seems to me, should have set them a doubting. I have seen
+those expressive eyes well up with tears when together we would read
+some old story or poem--
+
+    "Two shall be named preeminently dear--
+    The gentle Lady married to the Moor,
+    And heavenly Una with her milk-white Lamb"--
+
+or leaning from our bed-room window, at midnight, we would gaze on the
+silvery moon in the heavens, listening to the rippling notes of the
+water-spirits that to our fancy inhabited the sparkling stream that
+ran near the house. How beautifully would she improvise at times--for
+improvisations in truth were they, while she was quite unconscious of
+her gift. She never wrote a line of poetry, but when in such moods,
+every word she uttered was true, pure poetry. She had a most
+remarkable memory, and seemed never to forget a line she read. To me
+she would repeat page after page of our favorite authors, when we
+would be wandering through the woods, our arms entwined around each
+other.
+
+Effie Morris was an enthusiastic dreamer, and entertained certain
+little romantic exaggerated opinions, out of which it was impossible
+to argue her--sometimes her actions ran contrary to these opinions,
+and we would fancy that surely now she would admit the fallacy of her
+arguments in favor of them; but when taxed with it, she would in the
+most earnest, sincere manner defend her original position, proving to
+us that no matter how her actions appeared to others, they were in her
+own mind entirely in keeping with these first expressed opinions,
+which to us seemed entirely at variance. But she was so gentle in
+argument, and proved so plainly that though her reasoning might be
+false, her thoughts were so beautiful and pure, as to make us feel
+perfectly willing to pardon her obstinacy.
+
+On the morning I speak of, we lounged languidly over the
+breakfast-table, not caring to taste of the tempting crisp rolls, or
+drink of the fragrant Mocha juice, the delicious fumes of which rose
+up from the delicate China cups all unheeded by us. At first we talked
+listlessly of various things, wandering from subject to subject, and
+at last, to our surprise, we found ourselves engaged in a sprightly,
+animated argument; each forgetting the close atmosphere that seemed at
+first to weigh down all vivacity. The subject of this argument was the
+possibility of pride overcoming love in a woman's heart. Mrs. Morris
+and I contended that love weakened or quite died out if the object
+proved unworthy or indifferent. Our romantic Effie of course took the
+opposite side. True love to her mind was unalterable. Falsehood,
+deceit, change--no matter what sorrow, she said, might afflict the
+pure loving heart--its love would still remain. "I cannot," she
+exclaimed enthusiastically, "imagine for an instant that true, genuine
+love should--could have any affinity with pride. When I see a woman
+giving evidence of what is called high spirit in love matters, I
+straightway lose all sympathy for her heart-troubles. I say to
+myself--she has never truly loved."
+
+We argued, but in vain; at length her mother laughingly cried
+out--"Nonsense, Effie, no one would sooner resent neglect from a
+lover than yourself. True love, as you call it, would never make such
+a spiritless, meek creature out of the material of which you are
+composed."
+
+"Yes, in truth," I added, as I saw our pretty enthusiast, half vexed,
+shake her head obstinately at her mother's prophecy--"I can see those
+soft eyes of yours, Effie, darling, flash most eloquent fire, should
+your true love meet with unworthiness."
+
+During our conversation the clouds had broken, the wind changed, and a
+delicious breeze came sweeping in at the windows as if to cool our
+cheeks, flushed with the playful argument.
+
+"Will you ride or walk this morning, girls?" asked Mrs. Morris, as we
+arose from the breakfast-table.
+
+"Oh, let us take our books, guitar and work up the mill-stream to the
+old oak, dear mamma," exclaimed Effie, "and spend an hour or two
+there."
+
+"But it will be mid-day when we return," replied her mother.
+
+"That's true," said Effie, laughing, "but Leven can drive up to the
+old broken bridge for us at mid-day."
+
+"To be sure he can," said Mrs. Morris, and accordingly we sallied
+forth, laden with books and netting, while a servant trudged on ahead,
+with camp-stools and guitar. Nothing eventful occurred on that
+particular morning, and yet though years have passed since then, I
+never recall the undulating scenery of the narrow, dark, winding
+mill-stream of Stamford, but it presents itself to my mind's eye as it
+looked on that morning. In my waking or sleeping dreams, I see the old
+oak at the morning hours, and whenever the happy moments I have spent
+at Effie Morris' country home come to my memory, this morning is
+always the brightest, most vivid picture presented before me by my
+fancy. As Hans Christian Andersen says with such poetic eloquence in
+his Improvisatore--"It was one of those moments which occur but once
+in a person's life, which, without signalizing itself by any great
+life-adventure, yet stamps itself in its whole coloring upon the
+Psyche wings."
+
+We walked slowly along the narrow bank--tall trees towered around us,
+whose waving branches, together with the floating clouds, were
+mirrored with exquisite distinctness on the bosom of the dark, deep,
+narrow stream--near at shore lay the dreaming, luxurious water-lilies,
+and a thousand beautiful blossoms bent over the bank, and kissed
+playfully the passing waters, or coquetted with the inconstant breeze.
+Our favorite resting-place was about a mile's walk up the beautiful
+stream, and to reach it we had to cross to the opposite shore, over a
+rude, half-ruined bridge, which added to the picturesque beauty of the
+scenery. The oak was a century old tree, and stood upon rising ground
+a short distance from the shore. How calmly and happily passed that
+morning. Effie sang wild ballads for us, and her rich full notes were
+echoed from the distance by the spirit voices of the hills. We wove
+garlands of water-lilies and wild flowers, and when I said we were
+making Ophelias of ourselves, Effie, with shy earnestness most
+bewitching, unloosened her beautiful hair, twining the long locks, and
+banding her temples with the water-lily garlands and long grass--then
+wrapping an India muslin mantle around her shoulders, she gathered up
+the ends on her arms, filling them with sprigs of wild blossoms, and
+acted poor Ophelia's mad scene most touchingly. Tears gathered in our
+eyes as she concluded the wild, wailing melody
+
+   "And will he not come again,
+    And will he not come again,
+        No, no, he is dead,
+        Go to thy death-bed,
+    He never will come again.
+
+   "His beard was as white as snow,
+    All flaxen was his poll--
+        He is gone, he is gone,
+        And we cast away moan--
+    God a mercy on his soul."
+
+There was a deep, touching pathos in her voice as she uttered the
+minor notes of this song, and her soft eyes beamed half vacantly, half
+reverently, as looking up to heaven she uttered in low breathing
+tones--
+
+    "And of all Christian souls! I pray God!"
+
+Then suddenly arousing herself, she looked toward us and murmured, as
+she turned away with a sad, tearful smile, "God be wi' you." The
+illusion was perfect, and we both sobbed outright.
+
+Effie Morris was one of the few true geniuses I have known in my life
+time; and when I have said this to those who only met with her in
+society, they have laughed and wondered what genius there could be in
+my cold, quiet friend.
+
+The following winter Effie entered society. Her mother had many gay
+and fashionable friends in the principal northern cities, and during
+the winter season her letters to me were dated at one time from
+Washington, then again from some other gay city; and in this free from
+care pleasant manner did her days pass. Household duties kept me,
+though a young girl, close at home. Possibly if Effie had been thrown
+into the active domestic sphere which was my mission, her history
+might have been different. She certainly would have been less of a
+dreamer. Exquisite waking dreams, woven of the shining fairy threads
+of fancy, meet with but poor encouragement in every-day life, and take
+flight sometimes never to return, when one is rudely awakened from
+them in order to attend to "the baked and the broiled." I remember,
+when a girl, feeling at times a little restive under the duties
+unavoidably imposed upon me, and often would indulge in a morbid
+sentimental humor, dreaming over some "rare old poet" or blessed
+romance, to the exceeding great detriment of my household affairs,
+making my poor father sigh over a tough, badly cooked stake, and
+cheerless, dusty house; but these moods, to my credit be it told, were
+of rare occurrence; and I say now the best school for a dreaming,
+enthusiastic girl, who sighs for the realization of her fancy visions,
+is to place her in charge of some active duty--to make her feel it is
+exacted from her--that she must see it performed. I mean not that a
+delicate intellectual spirit should be borne to the earth disheartened
+with care and hard labor--but a share of domestic cares, domestic
+duties, is both wholesome and necessary for a woman. Cultivate if
+possible in a girl a taste for reading and study first, then she will
+soon find time for intellectual pursuits, which, from being in a
+measure denied to her, will become dearer. In her attempts to secure
+moments for the indulgence of her mental desires she will
+unconsciously learn order, management and economy of time and labor,
+thus will her mind be strengthened. But I am digressing, dear reader.
+I am sadly talkative on this subject, and sometimes fancy I could
+educate a girl most famously; and when "thinking aloud" of the perfect
+woman my theory would certainly complete, I am often pitched rudely
+from my self-satisfied position, by some married friend saying, in a
+half vexed, impatient tone--"Ah, yes, this is all very fine in
+theory--no doubt you would be successful--we all know the homely
+adage--'old bachelors' wives and old maids' children,' &c."
+
+Effie was not what is called a belle in society. She was too cold and
+spiritual. Her beauty was too delicate to make an impression in the
+gay ball-room; and she cared little for what both men and women in the
+world pine after--popularity. She danced and talked only with those
+who pleased her, and sometimes not at all if it did not suit her
+fancy. There was a great contrast between her mother and herself. Mrs.
+Morris, though "forty rising," was still a fine-looking, _distingue_
+woman; and on her re-entrance into society with her daughter, she
+produced a greater impression than did Effie. She had a merry, joyous
+disposition, and without possessing half the mental superiority her
+daughter was gifted with, she had a light, easy conversational
+ability, playful repartee, an elegant style and manner, and a
+sufficient knowledge of accomplishments to produce an effect in the
+gay world, and make her the centre of attraction of every circle she
+entered; and the world wondered so brilliant a mother should have so
+indifferent a daughter. She doted on Effie; and, I am sure, loved her
+all the more for her calm, quiet way. She often said to me, "Effie is
+very superior to the women one meets with--she has a pure, elevated
+spirit. So delicate a nature as hers is not properly appreciated in
+this world."
+
+One summer there came a wooing of Effie a most excellent gentleman. He
+had met with her the preceding winter in some gay circle, and had
+discernment enough to discover the merits of our jewel. How anxiously
+Mrs. Morris and I watched the wooing--for we were both anxious for Mr.
+Grayson's success. He was in every way worthy of her--high-minded,
+honorable, and well to do in the world--some years her senior, but
+handsome and elegant in appearance. He must have had doubts of his
+success, for he let the live-long summer pass ere he ventured on his
+love speech. We were a pleasant party--Mrs. Morris, Effie, myself, Mr.
+Grayson, and Lucien Decker, a cousin of Mrs. Morris--a college youth,
+who only recently had become one of the family. Lucien Decker's family
+lived in a distant state, and only until he came to a northern college
+to finish his studies had he known his pleasant relatives. He was a
+bright, interesting, graceful youth, and wondrous clever, we thought.
+We would spend morning after morning wandering up the mill-stream,
+resting under the old oak, where Mr. Grayson would discourse most
+pleasantly, or read aloud to us; and sometimes, after Effie and I had
+chanted simple melodies, we would prevail on Lucien to recite some of
+his own poetry, at which he was, indeed, most clever--he recited well,
+and wrote very delicately and beautifully. At last Mr. Grayson
+ventured on a proposal; but, to our sorrow, he met with a calm, gentle
+refusal; and to relieve his disappointment, he sailed in the fall for
+Europe.
+
+Not long after his departure, to our surprise, Effie and Lucien
+announced themselves as lovers. No objection, surely, could be made;
+but such a thing had never entered our minds. Though of the same age
+with Effie and myself, he had always seemed as a boy in comparison to
+us, and I had always treated him with the playful familiarity of a
+youth. He was more intelligent and interesting than young men of his
+age generally are; indeed he gave promise of talent--and he was
+likewise good-looking; but, in truth, when we compared him with the
+elegant and finished Mr. Grayson, we felt a wee bit out of patience;
+and if we did not give utterance aloud to our thoughts, I shrewdly
+suspect if those thoughts had formed themselves into words, those
+words would have sounded very much like, "Nonsensical sentimentality!"
+"strange infatuation!" but nothing could be said with propriety, and
+the engagement was fully entered into. Some time had necessarily to
+elapse before its fulfillment, however, for the lover was but twenty;
+but it was well understood, that when he had finished his studies, and
+was settled in his profession, he was to wed our darling Effie. After
+the acceptance of his suit, Lucien seemed perfectly happy, and, I must
+confess, made himself particularly interesting. He walked and read
+with us, and wrote such beautiful poetry in honor of Effie's charms,
+that we were at last quite propitiated. He was, indeed, an ardent
+lover; and his enthusiastic, earnest wooing, was very different from
+Mr. Grayson's calm, dignified manner. He caused our quiet Effie a deal
+of entertainment, however; for when he was an acknowledged lover, like
+all such ardent dispositions, he showed himself to be an exacting one.
+Her calm, cold manner would set him frantic at times; and he would vow
+she could not love him; but these lovers' quarrels instead of wearying
+Effie, seemed to produce a contrary effect.
+
+They had been engaged a year or so, when one summer a belle of the
+first water made her appearance in the village-circle of Stamford.
+Kate Barclay was her name. She was a Southerner, and a reputed
+heiress. She had come rusticating, she said; and shrugging her pretty
+shoulders, she would declare in a bewitching, languid tone, "truly a
+face and figure needed rest after a brilliant winter campaign." Old
+Mrs. Barclay, a dear, nice old lady in the village, was her aunt; and
+as we were the only young ladies of a companionable age, Kate was, of
+course, a great deal with us. She was, indeed, a delicious looking
+creature. She had large, melting dark eyes, and rich curling masses of
+hair, that fell in clusters over her neck and shoulders, giving her a
+most romantic appearance. She understood fully all the little arts and
+wiles of a belle; and she succeeded in securing admiration.
+Superficial she was, but showy; and could put on at will all moods,
+from the proud and dignified, to the bewitching and childlike. We had
+no gentlemen visiters with us when she first came, not even Lucien;
+for some engagement had taken him from Effie for a week or two, and
+our pretty southern damsel almost expired with _ennui_. When we first
+met with her, she talked so beautifully of the delights of a quiet
+country life, seemed so enchanted with every thing and every body, and
+so eloquent in praise of rambles in the forest, sunsets, moonlights,
+rushing streamlets, &c., &c., that we decided she was an angel
+forthwith. But one or two ramblings quite finished her--for she
+complained terribly of dust, sun, and fatigue; moreover, we quite
+neglected to notice or admire her picturesque rambling dress, which
+inadvertency provoked her into telling us that the gentlemen at
+Ballston, or some other fashionable watering-place, had declared she
+looked in it quite like Robin Hood's maid Marian. The gorgeous summer
+sunsets and clear moonlight nights, soon wearied her--for we were too
+much occupied with the beauties of nature to notice her fine
+attitudes, or beautiful eyes cast up imploringly to heaven, while she
+recited, in a half theatrical manner, passages of poetry descriptive
+of her imaginary feelings. I suspected she was meditating a flitting,
+when one day Lucien, and two of his student friends, made their
+appearance amongst us. How quickly her mood changed; the listless,
+yawning, dissatisfied manner disappeared, and we heard her the first
+night of their arrival delighting them, as she had us, with her
+fascinating ecstasies over rural enjoyments. She sentimentalized,
+flirted, romped, laughed, dressed in a picturesque manner, and "was
+every thing by turns, but nothing long," evidently bent upon bringing
+to her feet the three gentlemen. Lucien's friends soon struck their
+flags, and were her humble cavaliers--but a right tyrannical mistress
+she proved to them, making them scowl, and say sharp things to each
+other in a most ferocious manner, very amusing to us; but Lucien was
+impregnable. She played off all her arts in vain, he seemed
+unconscious, and devoted himself entirely to Effie. At first she was
+so occupied with securing the two other prizes she overlooked his
+delinquency, but when certain of them, she was piqued into
+accomplishing a conquest of him likewise. I did not think she would be
+successful, and amused myself by quietly watching her manoeuvres.
+
+One bright moonlight evening the gentlemen rowed us up the
+mill-stream, and as we returned we landed at our favorite oak. The
+waters, swelled by recent rains, came dashing and tumbling along in
+mimic billows; the moon beamed down a heavenly radiance, and as the
+little wavelets broke against the shore, they glittered like molten
+silver, covering the wild blossoms with dazzling fairy gems. Kate's
+two lovers were talking and walking with Mrs. Morris and Effie along
+the shore. Lucien, Kate, and I, remained on a little bank that rose
+abruptly from the water. She did, indeed, look most bewitchingly
+beautiful; her soft, white dress, bound at the waist by a flowing
+ribbon, floated in graceful folds around her; her lovely neck,
+shoulders and arms, were quite uncovered, and her rich, dark hair fell
+in loose, long curls, making picturesque shadows in the moonlight. She
+could act the inspired enthusiast to perfection; and what our Effie
+really was, she could affect most admirably. She seemed unconscious of
+our presence; indeed, I do not think she thought I was near her, and,
+as if involuntarily, she burst out into one of her affected
+rhapsodies, her eyes beamed brightly, and she expressed her feelings
+most rapturously, concluding with repeating, in low, earnest, half
+trembling tones, some lines of Lucien's she had taken from my Scrap
+Book, descriptive of the very scene before her, written the preceding
+summer for Effie, after a moonlight ramble together. The poetry was
+quite impassioned; and I heard Kate murmur with a sigh, as she turned
+away after concluding her quotation, as if sick at heart, "Ah! I would
+give years of brilliant success for one hour of devotion from such a
+lover."
+
+No one heard her but Lucien and myself--and I was one listener more
+than she would have desired; for Lucien's ear alone was the
+ejaculation intended, the good for nothing little flirt. It produced
+the intended effect, for I saw Lucien watching her with admiring
+interest. She noted the impression, and cunningly kept it up. There
+was such a contrast between Effie and Kate, rather to Effie's
+disadvantage, I had to confess, and Kate's affected expressions of
+intense feeling, rather served to heighten Effie's natural coldness of
+manner. Why waste words--the conclusion is already divined. The
+coquette succeeded--and ere a week had passed Lucien was her
+infatuated, devoted admirer; Effie was quite forgotten. Lucien's two
+friends, wretched, and completely maddened by the cool, contemptuous
+rejections they received from Kate, left Stamford, vowing eternal
+hatred for womankind, and uttering deep, dire denunciations against
+all coquettes, leaving the field open to Lucien, who seemed to have
+perfectly lost all sense of propriety in his infatuation. Effie looked
+on as calmly and quietly as though she were not particularly
+interested. I fancied, for the credit of romance and sentiment, that
+her cheek was paler; and I thought I could detect at times a trembling
+of her delicate lips--but she said not a word. Mrs. Morris and I
+displayed much more feeling; but what could we do--and half amused,
+half vexed, we watched the conduct of the naughty little flirt.
+Suddenly Kate received a summons home--and right glad I was to hear of
+it. She announced it to us one evening, saying she expected her father
+the next day. The following afternoon she came over to our cottage,
+accompanied with two middle-aged gentlemen. The elder of the two was
+Mr. Barclay, her father, who had known Mrs. Morris in early life; the
+other she introduced as Col. Paulding, a friend. Col. Paulding's
+manner struck us with surprise. He called her "Kate;" and though
+dignified, was affectionate. She seemed painfully embarrassed, and
+anxious to terminate the visit. She answered our questions hurriedly,
+and appeared ill at ease. Lucien was not present, fortunately for her;
+and I fancied she watched the door, as if anxiously fearing his
+entrance; certain it was she started nervously at every distant sound.
+
+"Will you revisit Stamford next summer, Miss Barclay?" I asked.
+
+Kate replied that she was uncertain at present.
+
+"I suppose Kate has not told you," said her father, laughingly, "that
+long before another summer she will cease to be mistress of her own
+movements. She expects to be in Germany next summer, I believe, with
+her husband," and he looked significantly at Col. Paulding, who was
+standing out on the lawn with Mrs. Morris, admiring the beautiful
+view, quite out of hearing distance. Effie was just stepping from the
+French window of the drawing-room into the conservatory to gather some
+of her pretty flowers for her visiters, as she heard Mr. Barclay say
+this. She turned with a stern, cold look, and regarded Kate Barclay
+quietly. Kate colored crimson, then grew deadly white, and trembled
+from head to foot; but her father did not notice it, as he had
+followed Col. Paulding and Mrs. Morris out on the lawn. There we three
+stood, Effie, cold and pale as a statue, and Kate looking quite like a
+criminal. She looked up, attempting to make some laughing remark, but
+the words died in her throat as she met Effie's stern, cold glance;
+she gasped, trembled, then rallied, and at last, with a proud look of
+defiance, she swept out on the lawn, and taking Col. Paulding's arm,
+proposed departure. She bade us good-bye most gracefully; but I saw
+that she avoided offering her hand to Effie. As the gate closed, she
+looked over her shoulder indifferently, and said, in a saucy, laughing
+tone,
+
+"Oh, pray make my adieux to Mr. Decker. I regret that I shall not see
+him to bid him good-bye. I depend upon the charity of you ladies to
+keep me fresh in his remembrance;" and, as far as we could see her
+down the road, we heard her forced laugh and unnaturally loud voice.
+
+Lucien came in a few minutes after they left, and Mrs. Morris
+delivered Kate's message. He looked agitated, and after swallowing his
+cup of tea hastily and quietly, he took up his hat and went out. He
+went to see Kate, but she, anticipating his visit, had retired with a
+violent headache immediately after her walk; but Lucien staid long
+enough to discover, as we had, Col. Paulding's relation to the
+fascinating coquette. This we learned long afterward. The next day
+Lucien left Stamford without saying more than cold words of good-bye.
+He did not go with Kate's party, we felt certain; and many weeks
+passed without hearing from him. Effie never made a remark; and our
+days passed quietly as they had before the appearance of Kate Barclay
+in our quiet little village. It was not long, however, before we saw
+in the newspapers, and read without comment, the marriage of Kate
+Barclay with Col. Paulding.
+
+"See this," said Mrs. Morris to me one morning as I entered the
+drawing-room, and she handed me a letter. We were alone, Effie was
+attending to her plants in the conservatory. I took the letter and
+read it. It was a wild, impassioned one from Lucien. Two months had
+elapsed since his silent departure, and this first letter was written
+to Mrs. Morris. It was filled with self-reproaches, and earnest
+entreaties for her intercession and mine with Effie. He cursed his
+infatuation, and the cause of it, and closed with the declaration that
+he would be reckless of life if Effie remained unforgiving. As I
+finished reading the letter I heard Effie's voice warbling in wild and
+plaintive notes in the conservatory,
+
+    "How should I your true love know,
+        From another one,
+    By his cockle hat and staff,
+        And his sandal shoon?"
+
+And the scene at the opening of this story rose before my
+remembrance--the playful argument--the declaration made by her that
+true, pure love could not have any affinity with pride--and I was lost
+in reverie.
+
+"What would you do, Enna?" inquired Mrs. Morris.
+
+"Give the letter to Effie without remark," I replied. "We cannot
+intercede for him--he does not deserve to be forgiven."
+
+The letter was given to Effie, who read it quietly; and if she evinced
+emotion, it was not before us. She said she was sorry for Lucien, for
+she had discovered a change in her own feelings. She did not love him
+as she fancied she had, and she could not in justice to herself
+fulfill their engagement--it was impossible. She wrote this to him,
+and all his wild letters were laid calmly and quietly aside. Can this
+be pride? I said to myself. But she seemed as though she suspected my
+thoughts, for the night before I returned to my city home, as we were
+leaning against the window-frame of our bed-room, listening the last
+time for that season to the tumbling, dashing water-music, she said,
+
+"Enna, dear, it was not spirit and pride that made me act so unkindly
+to Lucien--indeed, it was not. But I mistook my feelings for him from
+the first. I fancied I loved him dearly, when I only loved him as a
+sister. Believe me, if that love had existed once for him, his foolish
+infatuation for Kate Barclay would not have been regarded by me one
+moment."
+
+Two or three years passed, and Effie still remained unwedded, when, to
+our delight, Mr. Grayson, who had returned from Europe, again
+addressed her. She accepted him; and I was, indeed, happy when I
+officiated as bridesmaid for her. One year after that joyous wedding
+we stood over her bier, weeping bitter, bitter tears. We laid her in
+the grave--and the heart-broken mother soon rested beside her. Among
+her papers was a letter directed to me; it was written in expectation
+of death, although we did not any of us anticipate such a calamity.
+
+"I am not long for this world, dear Enna," she wrote, "I feel I am
+dying daily; and yet, young as I am, it grieves me not, except when I
+think of the sorrow my death will occasion to others. When you read
+this I shall be enveloped in the heavy grave-clothes; but then I shall
+be at rest. Oh! how my aching, weary spirit pines for rest. Do not
+fancy that sorrow or disappointment has brought me to this. I fancied
+I loved Lucien Decker fondly, devotedly; and how happy was I when
+under the influence of that fancy. That fatal summer, at the time of
+his infatuation for that heartless girl, insensibly a chilling
+hardness crept over my feelings. I struggled against my awakening; and
+if Lucien had displayed any emotion before his departure, I might
+still have kept up the happy delusion. But in vain, it disappeared,
+and with it all the beauty of life, which increased in weariness from
+that moment. I sought for some object of interest--I married; but,
+though my husband has been devoted and kind, I weary of existence.
+Life has no interest for me. I hail the approach of death. Farewell."
+
+I read these sad lines with eyes blinded with tears; and I could not
+help thinking how Effie had deceived herself; unconsciously she had
+become a victim of the very pride she had condemned.
+
+
+
+
+EARLY ENGLISH POETS.
+
+BY ELIZABETH J. EAMES.
+
+
+              I.--CHAUCER.
+
+    Yea! lovely are the hues still floating o'er
+      Thy rural visions, bard of olden time,
+    The form of purest Poesy flits before
+      My mental gaze, while bending o'er thy rhyme.
+      No lofty flight, bold, brilliant and sublime--
+      But tender beauty, and endearing grace,
+      And touching pathos in these lines I trace,
+    Oh! gentle poet of the northern clime.
+    And oft when dazzled by the gorgeous glow
+      And gilded luxury of modern rhymes,
+    Grateful I turn to the clear, quiet flow
+      Of thy sweet thoughts, which fall like pleasant chimes
+    From the "pure wells of English undefiled."
+    Thou wert inspired, thou, Poetry's true child.
+
+
+             II.--SPENCER.
+
+    What forms of grace and glory glided through
+      The royal palace of thy lofty mind!
+    Rare shapes of beauty thy sweet fancy drew,
+      In the brave knights, and peerless dames enshrined
+      Within thy magic book, The Faerie Queene,
+      Bright Gloriana robed in dazzling sheen--
+    Hapless Irene--angelic Una--and
+      The noble Arthur all before me pass,
+      As summoned by the enchanter rod and glass.
+    And glorious still thy pure creations stand,
+    Leaving their golden footprints on the sand
+      Of Time indelible! All thanks to thee,
+    Oh! beauty-breathing bard of Poesy,
+      That thou hast charmed a weary hour for me.
+
+
+            III.--SHAKSPEARE.
+
+    Oh! minstrel monarch! the most glorious throne
+      Of Intellect thy Genius doth inherit.
+    Compeer, or perfect rival thou hast none--
+      O Soul of Song!--O mind of royal merit.
+    Is not this high, imperishable fame
+      The tribute of a grateful world to thee?
+    A recognizing glory in thy name
+      From a great nation to thy memory.
+    Lord of Dramatic Art--the splendid scenes
+      Of thy rich fancy are around us still;
+      All shapes of Thought to make the bosom thrill
+    Are thine supreme! Many long years have sped,
+    And dimmed in dust the crowned and laureled head,
+    But thou--_thou_ speakest still, though numbered with the dead.
+
+
+
+
+THE PORTRAIT.
+
+[WITH AN ENGRAVING.]
+
+BY ROBT. T. CONRAD.
+
+
+    And he hath spoken! Knew I not he would?
+      Though flitting fears, like clouds o'er lakes, would cast
+    Shadows o'er true love's trust. The tear-drop stood
+      In his dark eye; he trembled. But 't is past,
+    And I am his, he mine. Why trembled he?
+      This fond heart knew he not; and that his eye
+    Governed its tides, as doth the moon the sea;
+      And that with him, for him, 't were bliss to die?
+    Yet said I naught. Shame on me, that my cheek
+      And eye my hoarded secret should betray!
+    Why wept I? And why was I sudden weak,
+      So weak his manly arm was stretched to stay?
+    How like a suppliant God he looked! His sweet,
+      Low voice, heart-shaken, spoke--and all was known;
+    Yet, from the first, I felt our souls must meet,
+      Like stars that rush together and shine on.
+
+
+[Illustration: The Bridal Morning
+
+J. Hayter          A. B. Ross
+
+Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine]
+
+
+
+
+THE ISLETS OF THE GULF;
+
+OR, ROSE BUDD.
+
+
+    Ay, now I am in Arden; the more fool
+    I; when I was at home I was in a better place; but
+    Travelers must be content. AS YOU LIKE IT.
+
+
+BY THE AUTHOR Of "PILOT," "RED ROVER," "TWO ADMIRALS,"
+"WING-AND-WING," "MILES WALLINGFORD," ETC.
+
+
+[Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by
+J. Fenimore Cooper, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court
+of the United States, for the Northern District of New York.]
+
+                 _(Continued from page 48.)_
+
+
+PART XV.
+
+    Man hath a weary pilgrimage
+    As through the world he wends;
+    On every stage, from youth to age,
+    Still discontent attends;
+    With heaviness he casts his eye
+    Upon the road before,
+    And still remembers with a sigh
+    The days that are no more. SOUTHEY.
+
+
+It has now become necessary to advance the time three entire days, and
+to change the scene to Key West. As this latter place may not be known
+to the world at large, it may be well to explain that it is a small
+seaport, situate on one of the largest of the many low islands that
+dot the Florida Reef, that has risen into notice, or indeed into
+existence as a town, since the acquisition of the Floridas by the
+American Republic. For many years it was the resort of few besides
+wreckers, and those who live by the business dependent on the rescuing
+and repairing of stranded vessels, not forgetting the salvages. When
+it is remembered that the greater portion of the vessels that enter
+the Gulf of Mexico stand close along this reef, before the trades, for
+a distance varying from one to two hundred miles, and that nearly
+every thing which quits it, is obliged to beat down its rocky coast in
+the Gulf Stream for the same distance, one is not to be surprised that
+the wrecks, which so constantly occur, can supply the wants of a
+considerable population. To live at Key West is the next thing to
+being at sea. The place has sea air, no other water than such as is
+preserved in cisterns, and no soil, or so little as to render even a
+head of lettuce a rarity. Turtle is abundant, and the business of
+"turtling" forms an occupation additional to that of wrecking. As
+might be expected in such circumstances, a potato is a far more
+precious thing than a turtle's egg, and a sack of the tubers would
+probably be deemed a sufficient remuneration for enough of the
+materials of callipash and callipee to feed all the aldermen extant.
+
+Of late years, the government of the United States has turned its
+attention to the capabilities of the Florida Reef, as an advanced
+naval station; a sort of Downs, or St. Helen's Roads, for the West
+Indian seas. As yet little has been done beyond making the preliminary
+surveys, but the day is not probably very distant when fleets will
+lie at anchor among the islets described in our earlier chapters, or
+garnish the fine waters of Key West. For a long time it was thought
+that even frigates would have a difficulty in entering and quitting
+the port of the latter, but it is said that recent explorations have
+discovered channels capable of admitting any thing that floats. Still
+Key West is a town yet in its chrysalis state, possessing the promise
+rather than the fruition of the prosperous days which are in reserve.
+It may be well to add, that it lies a very little north of the 24th
+degree of latitude, and in a longitude quite five degrees west from
+Washington. Until the recent conquests in Mexico it was the most
+southern possession of the American government, on the eastern side of
+the continent; Cape St. Lucas, at the extremity of Lower California,
+however, being two degrees farther south.
+
+It will give the foreign reader a more accurate notion of the
+character of Key West, if we mention a fact of quite recent
+occurrence. A very few weeks after the closing scenes of this tale,
+the town in question was, in a great measure, washed away! A hurricane
+brought in the sea upon all these islands and reefs, water running in
+swift currents over places that within the memory of man were never
+before submerged. The lower part of Key West was converted into a
+raging sea, and every thing in that quarter of the place disappeared.
+The foundation being of rock, however, when the ocean retired the
+island came into view again, and industry and enterprise set to work
+to repair the injuries.
+
+The government has established a small hospital for seamen at Key
+West. Into one of the rooms of the building thus appropriated our
+narrative must now conduct the reader. It contained but a single
+patient, and that was Spike. He was on his narrow bed, which was to be
+but the precursor of a still narrower tenement, the grave. In the room
+with the dying man were two females, in one of whom our readers will
+at once recognize the person of Rose Budd, dressed in deep mourning
+for her aunt. At first sight, it is probable that a casual spectator
+would mistake the second female for one of the ordinary nurses of the
+place. Her attire was well enough, though worn awkwardly, and as if
+its owner were not exactly at ease in it. She had the air of one in
+her best attire, who was unaccustomed to be dressed above the most
+common mode. What added to the singularity of her appearance, was the
+fact, that while she wore no cap, her hair had been cut into short,
+gray bristles, instead of being long, and turned up, as is usual with
+females. To give a sort of climax to this uncouth appearance, this
+strange-looking creature chewed tobacco.
+
+The woman in question, equivocal as might be her exterior, was
+employed in one of the commonest avocations of her sex--that of
+sewing. She held in her hand a coarse garment, one of Spike's, in
+fact, which she seemed to be intently busy in mending; although the
+work was of a quality that invited the use of the palm and
+sail-needle, rather than that of the thimble and the smaller implement
+known to seamstresses, the woman appeared awkward in her business, as
+if her coarse-looking and dark hands refused to lend themselves to an
+occupation so feminine. Nevertheless, there were touches of a purely
+womanly character about this extraordinary person, and touches that
+particularly attracted the attention, and awakened the sympathy of the
+gentle Rose, her companion. Tears occasionally struggled out from
+beneath her eyelids, crossed her dark, sun-burnt cheek, and fell on
+the coarse canvas garment that lay in her lap. It was after one of
+these sudden and strong exhibitions of feeling that Rose approached
+her, laid her own little, fair hand, in a friendly way, though
+unheeded, on the other's shoulder, and spoke to her in her kindest and
+softest tones.
+
+"I do really think he is reviving, Jack," said Rose, "and that you may
+yet hope to have an intelligent conversation with him."
+
+"They all agree he _must_ die," answered Jack Tier--for it was _he_,
+appearing in the garb of his proper sex, after a disguise that had now
+lasted fully twenty years--"and he will never know who I am, and that
+I forgive him. He must think of me in another world, though he isn't
+able to do it in this; but it would be a great relief to his soul to
+know that I forgive him."
+
+"To be sure, a man must like to take a kind leave of his own wife
+before he closes his eyes forever; and I dare say it would be a great
+relief to you to tell him that you have forgotten his desertion of
+you, and all the hardships it has brought upon you in searching for
+him, and in earning your own livelihood as a common sailor."
+
+"I shall not tell him I've _forgotten_ it, Miss Rose; that would be
+untrue--and there shall be no more deception between us; but I shall
+tell him that I _forgive_ him, as I hope God will one day forgive me
+all _my_ sins."
+
+"It is, certainly, not a light offence to desert a wife in a foreign
+land, and then to seek to deceive another woman," quietly observed
+Rose.
+
+"He's a willian!" muttered the wife--"but--but--"
+
+"You forgive him, Jack--yes, I'm sure you do. You are too good a
+Christian to refuse to forgive him."
+
+"I'm a woman a'ter all, Miss Rose; and that, I believe, is the truth
+of it. I suppose I ought to do as you say, for the reason you
+mention; but I'm his wife--and once he loved me, though that has long
+been over. When I first knew Stephen, I'd the sort of feelin's you
+speak of, and was a very different creatur' from what you see me
+to-day. Change comes over us all with years and sufferin'."
+
+Rose did not answer, but she stood looking intently at the speaker
+more than a minute. Change had, indeed, come over her, if she had ever
+possessed the power to please the fancy of any living man. Her
+features had always seemed diminitive and mean for her assumed sex, as
+her voice was small and cracked; but, making every allowance for the
+probabilities, Rose found it difficult to imagine that Jack Tier had
+ever possessed, even under the high advantages of youth and innocence,
+the attractions so common to her sex. Her skin had acquired the
+tanning of the sea; the expression of her face had become hard and
+worldly; and her habits contributed to render those natural
+consequences of exposure and toil even more than usually marked and
+decided. By saying "habits," however, we do not mean that Jack had
+ever drank to excess, as happens with so many seamen, for this would
+have been doing her injustice, but she smoked and chewed--practices
+that intoxicate in another form, and lead nearly as many to the grave
+as excess in drinking. Thus all the accessories about this singular
+being, partook of the character of her recent life and duties. Her
+walk was between a waddle and a seaman's roll; her hands were
+discolored with tar, and had got to be full of knuckles, and even her
+feet had degenerated into that flat, broad-toed form that, perhaps,
+sooner distinguishes caste, in connection with outward appearances,
+than any one other physical peculiarity. Yet this being _had_ once
+been young--had once been even _fair_; and had once possessed that
+feminine air and lightness of form, that as often belongs to the
+youthful American of her sex, perhaps, as to the girl of any other
+nation on earth. Rose continued to gaze at her companion for some
+time, when she walked musingly to a window that looked out upon the
+port.
+
+"I am not certain whether it would do him good or not to see this
+sight," she said, addressing the wife kindly, doubtful of the effect
+of her words even on the latter. "But here are the sloop-of-war, and
+several other vessels."
+
+"Ay, she is _there_; but never will his foot be put on board the Swash
+ag'in. When he bought that brig I was still young, and agreeable to
+him; and he gave her my maiden name, which was Mary, or Molly Swash.
+But that is all changed; I wonder he did not change the name with his
+change of feelin's."
+
+"Then you did really sail in the brig in former times, and knew the
+seaman whose name you assumed?"
+
+"Many years. Tier, with whose name I made free, on account of his
+size, and some resemblance to me in form, died under my care; and his
+protection fell into my hands, which first put the notion into my head
+of hailing as his representative. Yes, I knew Tier in the brig, and we
+were left ashore at the same time--I, intentionally, I make no
+question; he, because Stephen Spike was in a hurry, and did not choose
+to wait for a man. The poor fellow caught the yellow fever the very
+next day, and did not live eight-and-forty hours. So the world goes;
+them that wish to live, die; and them that wants to die, live!"
+
+"You have had a hard time for one of your sex, poor Jack--quite twenty
+years a sailor, did you not tell me?"
+
+"Every day of it, Miss Rose--and bitter years have they been; for the
+whole of that time have I been in chase of my husband, keeping my own
+secret, and slaving like a horse for a livelihood."
+
+"You could not have been old when he left--that is--when you parted."
+
+"Call it by its true name, and say at once, when he desarted me. I was
+under thirty by two or three years, and was still like my own sex to
+look at. All _that_ is changed since; but I _was_ comely _then_."
+
+"_Why_ did Capt. Spike abandon you, Jack; you have never told me
+_that_."
+
+"Because he fancied another. And ever since that time he has been
+fancying others, instead of remembering me. Had he got _you_, Miss
+Rose, I think he would have been content for the rest of his days."
+
+"Be certain, Jack, I should never have consented to marry Capt.
+Spike."
+
+"You're well out of his hands," answered Jack, sighing heavily, which
+was much the most feminine thing she had done during the whole
+conversation, "well out of his hands--and God be praised it is so. He
+should have died, before I would let him carry you off the
+island--husband or no husband."
+
+"It might have exceeded your power to prevent it under other
+circumstances, Jack."
+
+Rose now continued looking out of the window in silence. Her thoughts
+reverted to her aunt and Biddy, and tears rolled down her cheeks as
+she remembered the love of one, and the fidelity of the other. Their
+horrible fate had given her a shock that, at first, menaced her with a
+severe fit of illness; but her strong, good sense, and excellent
+constitution, both sustained by her piety and Harry's manly
+tenderness, had brought her through the danger, and left her, as the
+reader now sees her, struggling with her own griefs, in order to be of
+use to the still more unhappy woman who had so singularly become her
+friend and companion.
+
+The reader will readily have anticipated that Jack Tier had early made
+the females on board the Swash her confidents. Rose had known the
+outlines of her history from the first few days they were at sea
+together, which is the explanation of the visible intimacy that had
+caused Mulford so much surprise. Jack's motive in making his
+revelations might possibly have been tinctured with jealousy, but a
+desire to save one as young and innocent as Rose was at its bottom.
+Few persons but a wife would have supposed our heroine could have been
+in any danger from a lover like Spike; but Jack saw him with the eyes
+of her own youth, and of past recollections, rather than with those of
+truth. A movement of the wounded man first drew Rose from the window.
+Drying her eyes hastily, she turned toward him, fancying that she
+might prove the better nurse of the two, notwithstanding Jack's
+greater interest in the patient.
+
+"What place is this--and why am I here?" demanded Spike, with more
+strength of voice than could have been expected, after all that had
+passed. "This is not a cabin--not the Swash--it looks like a
+hospital."
+
+"It is a hospital, Capt. Spike," said Rose, gently drawing near the
+bed; "you have been hurt, and have been brought to Key West, and
+placed in the hospital. I hope you feel better, and that you suffer no
+pain."
+
+"My head isn't right--I don't know--every thing seems turned round
+with me--perhaps it will all come out as it should. I begin to
+remember--where is my brig?"
+
+"She is lost on the rocks. The seas have broken her into fragments."
+
+"That's melancholy news, at any rate. Ah! Miss Rose! God bless
+you--I've had terrible dreams. Well, it's pleasant to be among
+friends--what creature is that--where does _she_ come from?"
+
+"That is Jack Tier," answered Rose, steadily. "She turns out to be a
+woman, and has put on her proper dress, in order to attend on you
+during your illness. Jack has never left your bed-side since we have
+been here."
+
+A long silence succeeded this revelation. Jack's eyes twinkled, and
+she hitched her body half aside, as if to conceal her features, where
+emotions that were unusual were at work with the muscles. Rose thought
+it might be well to leave the man and wife alone--and she managed to
+get out of the room unobserved.
+
+Spike continued to gaze at the strange-looking female, who was now his
+sole companion. Gradually his recollection returned, and with it the
+full consciousness of his situation. He might not have been fully
+aware of the absolute certainty of his approaching death, but he must
+have known that his wound was of a very grave character, and that the
+result might early prove fatal. Still that strange and unknown figure
+haunted him; a figure that was so different from any he had ever seen
+before, and which, in spite of its present dress, seemed to belong
+quite as much to one sex as to the other. As for Jack--we call Molly,
+or Mary Swash by her masculine appellation, not only because it is
+more familiar, but because the other name seems really out of place,
+as applied to such a person--as for Jack, then, she sat with her face
+half averted, thumbing the canvas, and endeavoring to ply the needle,
+but perfectly mute. She was conscious that Spike's eyes were on her;
+and a lingering feeling of her sex told her how much time, exposure,
+and circumstances, had changed her person--and she would gladly have
+hidden the defects in her appearance.
+
+Mary Swash was the daughter as well as the wife of a ship-master. In
+her youth, as has been said before, she had even been pretty, and down
+to the day when her husband deserted her, she would have been thought
+a female of a comely appearance rather than the reverse. Her hair in
+particular, though slightly coarse, perhaps, had been rich and
+abundant; and the change from the long, dark, shining, flowing locks
+which she still possessed in her thirtieth year, to the short, gray
+bristles that now stood exposed without a cap, or covering of any
+sort, was one very likely to destroy all identity of appearance. Then
+Jack had passed from what might be called youth to the verge of old
+age, in the interval that she had been separated from her husband. Her
+shape had changed entirely; her complexion was utterly gone; and her
+features, always unmeaning, though feminine, and suitable to her sex,
+had become hard and slightly coarse. Still there was something of her
+former self about Jack that bewildered Spike; and his eyes continued
+fastened on her for quite a quarter of an hour in profound silence.
+
+"Give me some water," said the wounded man, "I wish some water to
+drink."
+
+Jack arose, filled a tumbler and brought it to the side of the bed.
+Spike took the glass and drank, but the whole time his eyes were
+riveted on his strange nurse. When his thirst was appeased, he asked--
+
+"Who are you? How came you here?"
+
+"I am your nurse. It is common to place nurses at the bedsides of the
+sick."
+
+"Are you man or woman?"
+
+"That is a question I hardly know how to answer. Sometimes I think
+myself each; sometimes neither."
+
+"Did I ever see you before?"
+
+"Often, and quite lately. I sailed with you in your last voyage."
+
+"You! That cannot be. If so, what is your name?"
+
+"Jack Tier."
+
+A long pause succeeded this announcement, which induced Spike to muse
+as intently as his condition would allow, though the truth did not yet
+flash on his understanding. At length the bewildered man again spoke.
+
+"Are _you_ Jack Tier?" he said slowly, like one who doubted. "Yes--I
+now see the resemblance, and it was _that_ which puzzled me. Are they
+so rigid in this hospital that you have been obliged to put on woman's
+clothes in order to lend me a helping hand?"
+
+"I am dressed as you see, and for good reasons."
+
+"But Jack Tier run, like that rascal Mulford--ay, I remember now; you
+were in the boat when I over-hauled you all on the reef."
+
+"Very true; I was in the boat. But I never run, Stephen Spike. It was
+_you_ who abandoned _me_, on the islet in the gulf, and that makes the
+second time in your life that you have left me ashore, when it was
+your duty to carry me to sea."
+
+"The first time I was in a hurry, and could not wait for you; this
+last time you took sides with the women. But for your interference, I
+should have got Rose, and married her, and all would now have been
+well with me."
+
+This was an awkward announcement for a man to make to his legal wife.
+But after all Jack had endured, and all Jack had seen during the late
+voyage, she was not to be overcome by this avowal. Her self-command
+extended so far as to prevent any open manifestation of emotion,
+however much her feelings were excited.
+
+"I took sides with the women, because I am a woman myself," she
+answered, speaking at length with decision, as if determined to bring
+matters to a head at once. "It is natural for us all to take sides
+with our kind."
+
+"You a woman, Jack! That is very remarkable. Since when have you
+hailed for a woman? You have shipped with me twice, and each time as a
+man--though I've never thought you able to do seaman's duty."
+
+"Nevertheless, I am what you see; a woman born and edicated; one that
+never had on man's dress until I knew you. _You_ supposed me to be a
+man, when I came off to you in the skiff to the eastward of Riker's
+Island, but I was then what you now see."
+
+"I begin to understand matters," rejoined the invalid, musingly. "Ay,
+ay, it opens on me; and I now see how it was you made such fair
+weather with Madam Budd and pretty, pretty Rose. Rose _is_ pretty,
+Jack; you _must_ admit _that_, though you be a woman."
+
+"Rose _is_ pretty--I do admit it; and what is better, Rose is _good_."
+It required a heavy draft on Jack's justice and magnanimity, however,
+to make this concession.
+
+"And you told Rose and Madam Budd about your sex; and that was the
+reason they took to you so on the v'y'ge?"
+
+"I told them who I was, and why I went abroad as a man. They know my
+whole story."
+
+"Did Rose approve of your sailing under false colors, Jack?"
+
+"You must ask that of Rose herself. My story made her my friend; but
+she never said any thing for or against my disguise."
+
+"It was no great disguise a'ter all, Jack. Now you're fitted out in
+your own clothes, you've a sort of half-rigged look; one would be as
+likely to set you down for a man under jury-canvas, as for a woman."
+
+Jack made no answer to this, but she sighed very heavily. As for Spike
+himself, he was silent for some little time, not only from exhaustion,
+but because he suffered pain from his wound. The needle was diligently
+but awkwardly plied in this pause.
+
+Spike's ideas were still a little confused; but a silence and rest of
+a quarter of an hour cleared them materially. At the end of that time
+he again asked for water. When he had drank, and Jack was once more
+seated, with his side-face toward him, at work with the needle, the
+captain gazed long and intently at this strange woman. It happened
+that the profile of Jack preserved more of the resemblance to her
+former self, than the full face; and it was this resemblance that now
+attracted Spike's attention, though not the smallest suspicion of the
+truth yet gleamed upon him. He saw something that was familiar, though
+he could not even tell what that something was, much less to what or
+whom it bore any resemblance. At length he spoke.
+
+"I was told that Jack Tier was dead," he said; "that he took the
+fever, and was in his grave within eight-and-forty hours after we
+sailed. That was what they told me of _him_."
+
+"And what did they tell you of your own wife, Stephen Spike. She that
+you left ashore at the time Jack was left?"
+
+"They said she did not die for three years later. I heard of her death
+at New Or_leens_, three years later."
+
+"And how could you leave her ashore--she, your true and lawful wife?"
+
+"It was a bad thing," answered Spike, who, like all other mortals,
+regarded his own past career, now that he stood on the edge of the
+grave, very differently from what he had regarded it in the hour of
+his health and strength. "Yes, it _was_ a very bad thing; and I wish
+it was ondone. But it is too late now. She died of the fever,
+too--that's some comfort; had she died of a broken-heart, I could not
+have forgiven myself. Molly was not without her faults--great faults,
+I considered them; but, on the whole, Molly was a good creatur'."
+
+"You liked her, then, Stephen Spike?"
+
+"I can truly say that when I married Molly, and old Capt. Swash put
+his da'ghter's hand into mine, that the woman wasn't living who was
+better in my judgment, or handsomer in my eyes."
+
+"Ay, ay--when you _married_ her; but how was it a'terwards. When you
+was tired of her, and saw another that was fairer in your eyes?"
+
+"I desarted her; and God has punished me for the sin! Do you know,
+Jack, that luck has never been with me since that day. Often and often
+have I bethought me of it; and sartain as you sit there, no great luck
+has ever been with me, or my craft, since I went off, leaving my wife
+ashore. What was made in one v'y'ge, was lost in the next. Up and
+down, up and down the whole time, for so many, many long years, that
+gray hairs set in, and old age was beginning to get close aboard--and
+I as poor as ever. It has been rub and go with me ever since; and I
+have had as much as I could do to keep the brig in motion, as the only
+means that was left to make the two ends meet."
+
+"And did not all this make you think of your poor wife--she whom you
+had so wronged?"
+
+"I thought of little else, until I heard of her death at New
+Or_leens_--and then I gave it up as useless. Could I have fallen in
+with Molly at any time a'ter the first six months of my desartion, she
+and I would have come together again, and every thing would have been
+forgotten. I knowed her very nature, which was all forgiveness to me
+at the bottom, though seemingly so spiteful and hard."
+
+"Yet you wanted to have this Rose Budd, who is only too young, and
+handsome, and good for you."
+
+"I was tired of being a widower, Jack; and Rose _is_ wonderful pretty.
+She has money, too, and might make the evening of my days comfortable.
+The brig was old, as you must know, and has long been off of all the
+Insurance Offices' books; and she couldn't hold together much longer.
+But for this sloop-of-war, I should have put her off on the Mexicans;
+and they would have lost her to our people in a month."
+
+"And was it an honest thing to sell an old and worn-out craft to any
+one, Stephen Spike?"
+
+Spike had a conscience that had become hard as iron by means of trade.
+He who traffics much, most especially if his dealings be on so small a
+scale as to render constant investigations of the minor qualities of
+things necessary, must be a very fortunate man, if he preserve his
+conscience in any better condition. When Jack made this allusion,
+therefore, the dying man--for death was much nearer to Spike than even
+he supposed, though he no longer hoped for his own recovery--when Jack
+made this allusion, then, the dying man was a good deal at a loss to
+comprehend it. He saw no particular harm in making the best bargain he
+could; nor was it easy for him to understand why he might not dispose
+of any thing he possessed for the highest price that was to be had.
+Still he answered in an apologetic sort of way.
+
+"The brig was old, I acknowledge," he said, "but she was strong, and
+_might_ have run a long time. I only spoke of her capture as a thing
+likely to take place soon, if the Mexicans got her; so that her
+qualities were of no great account, unless it might be her speed--and
+that you know was excellent, Jack."
+
+"And you regret that brig, Stephen Spike, lying as you do on your
+death-bed, more than any thing else."
+
+"Not as much as I do pretty Rose Budd, Jack; Rosy is so delightful to
+look at!"
+
+The muscles of Jack's face twitched a little, and she looked deeply
+mortified; for, to own the truth, she hoped that the conversation had
+so far turned her delinquent husband's thoughts to the past, as to
+have revived in him some of his former interest in herself. It is
+true, he still believed her dead; but this was a circumstance Jack
+overlooked--so hard is it to hear the praises of a rival, and be just.
+She felt the necessity of being more explicit, and determined at once
+to come to the point.
+
+"Stephen Spike," she said, steadily, drawing near to the bed-side,
+"you should be told the truth, when you are heard thus extolling the
+good looks of Rose Budd, with less than eight-and-forty hours of life
+remaining. Mary Swash did not die, as you have supposed, three years
+a'ter you desarted her, but is living at this moment. Had you read the
+letter I gave you in the boat, just before you made me jump into the
+sea, _that_ would have told you where she is to be found."
+
+Spike stared at the speaker intently; and when her cracked voice
+ceased, his look was that of a man who was terrified as well as
+bewildered. This did not arise still from any gleamings of the real
+state of the case, but from the soreness with which his conscience
+pricked him, when he heard that his much-wronged wife was alive. He
+fancied, with a vivid and rapid glance at the probabilities, all that
+a woman abandoned would be likely to endure in the course of so many
+long and suffering years.
+
+"Are you sure of what you say, Jack? You wouldn't take advantage of my
+situation to tell me an untruth?"
+
+"As certain of it as of my own existence. I have seen her quite
+lately--talked with her of _you_--in short, she is now at Key West,
+knows your state, and has a wife's feelin's to come to your bed-side."
+
+Notwithstanding all this, and the many gleamings he had had of the
+facts during their late intercourse on board the brig, Spike did not
+guess at the truth. He appeared astounded, and his terror seemed to
+increase.
+
+"I have another thing to tell you," continued Jack, pausing but a
+moment to collect her own thoughts. "Jack Tier--the real Jack Tier--he
+who sailed with you of old, and whom you left ashore at the same time
+you desarted your wife, _did_ die of the fever, as you was told, in
+eight-and-forty hours a'ter the brig went to sea."
+
+"Then who, in the name of Heaven, are you? How came you to hail by
+another's name as well as by another sex?"
+
+"What could a woman do, whose husband had desarted her in a strange
+land?"
+
+"That is remarkable! So _you_'ve been married? I should not have
+thought _that_ possible; and your husband desarted you, too. Well,
+such things _do_ happen." Jack now felt a severe pang. She could not
+but see that her ungainly--we had almost said her unearthly
+appearance--prevented the captain from even yet suspecting the truth;
+and the meaning of his language was not easily to be mistaken. That
+any one should have married _her_, seemed to her husband as improbable
+as it was probable he would run away from her as soon as it was in his
+power after the ceremony.
+
+"Stephen Spike," resumed Jack, solemnly, "_I_ am Mary Swash--_I_ am
+your wife!"
+
+Spike started in his bed; then he buried his face in the coverlet--and
+he actually groaned. In bitterness of spirit the woman turned away and
+wept. Her feelings had been blunted by misfortune and the collisions
+of a selfish world; but enough of former self remained to make this
+the hardest of all the blows she had ever received. Her husband, dying
+as he was, as he must and did know himself to be, shrunk from one of
+her appearance, unsexed as she had become by habits, and changed by
+years and suffering.
+
+                                                 [_To be continued_.
+
+
+
+
+AN HOUR.
+
+BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR.
+
+
+    I've left the keen, cold winds to blow
+      Around the summits bare;
+    My sunny pathway to the sea
+      Winds downward, green and fair,
+    And bright-leaved branches toss and glow
+      Upon the buoyant air!
+
+    The fern its fragrant plumage droops
+      O'er mosses, crisp and gray,
+    Where on the shaded crags I sit,
+      Beside the cataract's spray,
+    And watch the far-off, shining sails
+      Go down the sunny bay!
+
+    I've left the wintry winds of life
+      On barren hearts to blow--
+    The anguish and the gnawing care,
+      The silent, shuddering wo!
+    Across the balmy sea of dreams
+      My spirit-barque shall go.
+
+    Learned not the breeze its fairy lore
+      Where sweetest measures throng?
+    A maiden sings, beside the stream,
+      Some chorus, wild and long,
+    Mingling and blending with its roar,
+      Like rainbows turned to song!
+
+    I hear it, like a strain that sweeps
+      The confines of a dream;
+    Now fading into silent space,
+      Now with a flashing gleam
+    Of triumph, ringing through the deeps
+      Of forest, dell and stream!
+
+    Away! away! I hear the horn
+      Among the hills of Spain:
+    The old, chivalric glory fires
+      Her warrior-hearts again!
+    Ho! how their banners light the morn,
+      Along Grenada's plain!
+
+    I hear the hymns of holy faith
+      The red Crusaders sang,
+    And the silver horn of Ronceval,
+      That o'er the tecbir rang
+    When prince and kaiser through the fray
+      To the paladin's rescue sprang!
+
+    A beam of burning light I hold!--
+      My good Damascus brand,
+    And the jet-black charger that I ride
+      Was foaled in the Arab land,
+    And a hundred horsemen, mailed in steel,
+      Follow my bold command!
+
+    Through royal cities speeds our march--
+      The minster-bells are rung;
+    The loud, rejoicing trumpets peal,
+      The battle-flags are swung,
+    And sweet, sweet lips of ladies praise
+      The chieftain, brave and young.
+
+    And now, in bright Provencal bowers,
+      A minstrel-knight am I:
+    A gentle bosom on my own
+      Throbs back its ecstasy;
+    A cheek, as fair as the almond flowers,
+      Thrills to my lips' reply!
+
+    I tread the fanes of wondrous Rome,
+      Crowned with immortal bay,
+    And myriads throng the Capitol
+      To hear my lofty lay,
+    While, sounding o'er the Tiber's foam,
+      Their shoutings peal away!
+
+    Oh, triumph such as this were worth
+      The poet's doom of pain,
+    Whose hours are brazen on the earth,
+      But golden in the brain:
+    I close the starry gate of dreams,
+      And walk the dust again!
+
+
+
+
+POWER OF BEAUTY,
+
+AND A PLAIN MAN'S LOVE.
+
+BY N. P. WILLIS.
+
+
+That the truths arrived at by the unaccredited short road of
+"magnetism" had better be stripped of their technical phraseology, and
+set down as the gradual discoveries of science and experience, is a
+policy upon which acts many a sagacious believer in "clairvoyance."
+Doubtless, too, there is, here and there, a wise man, who is glad
+enough to pierce, with the eyes of an incredible agent, the secrets
+about him, and let the world give him credit, by whatever name they
+please, for the superior knowledge of which he silently takes
+advantage. I should be behind the time, if I had not sounded to the
+utmost of my ability and opportunity the depth of this new medium. I
+have tried it on grave things and trifles. If the unveiling which I am
+about to record were of more use to myself than to others, perhaps I
+should adopt the policy of which I have just spoken, and give the
+result, simply as my own shrewd lesson learned in reading the female
+heart. But the truths I unfold will instruct the few who need and can
+appreciate them, while the whole subject is not of general importance
+enough to bring down cavilers upon the credibility of their source. I
+thus get rid of a very detestable though sometimes necessary evil,
+("_qui nescit dissimulare nescit vivere_," says the Latin sage,) that
+of shining by any light that is not absolutely my own.
+
+I am a very plain man in my personal appearance--_so_ plain that a
+common observer, if informed that there was a woman who had a fancy
+for my peculiar type, would wonder that I was not thankfully put to
+rest for life as a seeker after love--a second miracle of the kind
+being a very slender probability. It is not in beauty that the taste
+for beauty alone resides, however. In early youth my soul, like the
+mirror of Cydippe, retained, with enamored fidelity, the image of
+female loveliness copied in the clear truth of its appreciation, and
+the passion for it had become, insensibly, the thirst of my life,
+before I thought of it as more than an intoxicating study. To be
+loved--myself beloved--by a creature made in one of the diviner moulds
+of woman, was, however, a dream that shaped itself into waking
+distinctness at last, and from that hour I took up the clogging weight
+of personal disadvantages, to which I had hitherto unconsciously been
+chained, and bore it heavily in the race which the well-favored ran as
+eagerly as I.
+
+I am not to recount, here, the varied experiences of my search, the
+world over, after beauty and its smile. It is a search on which all
+travelers are more than half bent, let them name as they please their
+professed errand in far countries. The coldest scholar in art will
+better remember a living face of a new cast of expression, met in the
+gallery of Florence, than the best work of Michael Angelo, whose
+genius he has crossed an ocean to study; and a fair shoulder crowded
+against the musical pilgrim, in the Capella Sistiera, will be taken
+surer into his soul's inner memory than the best outdoing of "the
+sky-lark taken up into heaven," by the ravishing reach of the
+_Miserere_. Is it not true?
+
+There can hardly be now, I think, a style of female beauty of which I
+have not appreciated the meaning and comparative enchantment, nor a
+degree of that sometimes more effective thing than beauty itself--its
+expression breathing through features otherwise unlovely--that I have
+not approached near enough to weigh and store truthfully in
+remembrance. The taste forever refines in the study of woman. We
+return to what, with immature eye, we at first rejected; we intensify,
+immeasurably, our worship of the few who wear on their foreheads the
+star of supreme loveliness, confessed pure and perfect by all
+beholders alike; we detect it under surfaces which become transparent
+only with tenderness or enthusiasm; we separate the work of Nature's
+material chisel from the resistless and warm expansion of the soul
+swelling its proportions to fill out the shape it is to tenant
+hereafter. Led by the purest study of true beauty, the eager mind
+passes on from the shrine where it lingered to the next of whose
+greater brightness it becomes aware; and this is the secret of one
+kind of "inconstancy in love," which should be named apart from the
+variableness of those seekers of novelty, who, from unconscious
+self-contempt, value nothing they have had the power to win.
+
+An unsuspected student of beauty, I passed years of loiterings in the
+living galleries of Europe and Asia, and, like self-punishing misers
+in all kinds of amassings, stored up boundlessly more than, with the
+best trained senses, I could have found the life to enjoy. Of course I
+had a first advantage, of dangerous facility, in my unhappy plainness
+of person--the alarm-guard that surrounds every beautiful woman in
+every country of the world--letting sleep at _my_ approach the
+cautionary reserve which presents bayonet so promptly to the
+good-looking. Even with my worship avowed, and the manifestation of
+grateful regard which a woman of fine quality always returns for
+elevated and unexacting admiration I was still left with such
+privilege of access as is granted to the family-gossip, or to an
+innocuous uncle, and it is of such a passion, rashly nurtured under
+this protection of an improbability, that I propose to tell the
+_inner_ story.
+
+
+
+
+PART II.
+
+
+I was at the Baths of Lucca during a season made gay by the presence
+of a large proportion of the agreeable and accessible court of
+Tuscany. The material for my untiring study was in abundance, yet it
+was all of the worldly character which the attractions of the place
+would naturally draw together, and my homage had but a choice between
+differences of display, in the one pursuit of admiration. In my walks
+through the romantic mountain-paths of the neighborhood, and along the
+banks of the deep-down river that threads the ravine above the
+village, I had often met, meantime, a lady accompanied by a well-bred
+and scholar-like looking man; and though she invariably dropped her
+veil at my approach, her admirable movement, as she walked, or stooped
+to pick a flower, betrayed that conscious possession of beauty and
+habitual confidence in her own grace and elegance, which assured me of
+attractions worth taking trouble to know. By one of those "unavoidable
+accidents" which any respectable guardian angel will contrive, to
+oblige one, I was a visiter to the gentleman and lady--father and
+daughter--soon after my curiosity had framed the desire; and in her I
+found a marvel of beauty, from which I looked in vain for my usual
+escape--that of placing the ladder of my heart against a loftier and
+fairer.
+
+Mr. Wangrave was one of those English gentlemen who would not exchange
+the name of an ancient and immemorially wealthy family for any title
+that their country could give them, and he used this shield of modest
+honor simply to protect himself in the enjoyment of habits, freed, as
+far as refinement and culture could do it, from the burthens and
+intrusions of life above and below him. He was ceaselessly educating
+himself--like a man whose whole life was only too brief an
+apprenticeship to a higher existence--and, with an invalid but
+intellectual and lovely wife, and a daughter who seemed unconscious
+that she could love, and who kept gay pace with her youthful-hearted
+father in his lighter branches of knowledge, his family sufficed to
+itself, and had determined so to continue while abroad. The society of
+no Continental watering-place has a very good name, and they were
+there for climate and seclusion. With two ladies, who seemed to occupy
+the places and estimation of friends, (but who were probably the paid
+nurse and companion to the invalid,) and a kind-hearted old secretary
+to Mr. Wangrave, whose duties consisted in being as happy as he could
+possibly be, their circle was large enough, and it contained elements
+enough--except only, perhaps, the _reveille_ that was wanting for the
+apparently slumbering heart of Stephania.
+
+A month after my first call upon the Wangraves, I joined them on their
+journey to Vallambrosa, where they proposed to take refuge from the
+sultry coming of the Italian autumn. My happiness would not have been
+arranged after the manner of this world's happiness, if I had been the
+only addition to their party up the mountain. They had received with
+open arms, a few days before leaving Lucca, a young man from the
+neighborhood of their own home, and who, I saw with half a glance, was
+the very Eidolon and type of what Mr. Wangrave would desire as a
+fitting match for his daughter. From the allusions to him that had
+preceded his coming, I had learned that he was the heir to a brilliant
+fortune, and was coming to his old friends to be congratulated on his
+appointment to a captaincy in the Queen's Guards--as pretty a case of
+an "irresistible" as could well have been compounded for expectation.
+And when he came--the absolute model of a youth of noble beauty--all
+frankness, good manners, joyousness, and confidence, I summoned
+courage to look alternately at Stephania and him, and the hope, the
+daring hope that I had never yet named to myself, but which was
+already master of my heart, and its every pulse and capability,
+dropped prostrate and lifeless in my bosom. If he did but offer her
+the life-minute of love, of which I would give her, it seemed to me,
+for the same price, an eternity of countless existences--if he should
+but give her a careless word, where I could wring a passionate
+utterance out of the aching blood of my very heart--she must needs be
+his. She would be a star else that would resign an orbit in the fair
+sky, to illumine a dim cave; a flower that would rather bloom on a
+bleak moor, than in the garden of a king--for, with such crushing
+comparisons, did I irresistibly see myself as I remembered my own
+shape and features, and my far humbler fortunes than his, standing in
+her presence beside him.
+
+Oh! how every thing contributed to enhance the beauty of that young
+man. How the mellow and harmonizing tenderness of the light of the
+Italian sky gave sentiment to his oval cheek, depth to his gray-blue
+eye, meaning to their overfolding and thick-fringed lashes. Whatever
+he said with his finely-cut lips, was _looked_ into twenty times its
+meaning by the beauty of their motion in that languid atmosphere--an
+atmosphere that seemed only breathed for his embellishment and
+Stephania's. Every posture he took seemed a happy and rare accident,
+which a painter should have been there to see. The sunsets, the
+moonlight, the chance back-ground and fore-ground, of vines and
+rocks--every thing seemed in conspiracy to heighten his effect, and
+make of him a faultless picture of a lover.
+
+"Every thing," did I say? Yes, _even myself_--for my uncomely face and
+form were such a foil to his beauty as a skillful artist would have
+introduced to heighten it when all other art was exhausted, and every
+one saw it except Stephania; and little they knew how, with
+perceptions far quicker than theirs, I _felt_ their recognition of
+this, in the degree of softer kindness in which they unconsciously
+spoke to me. They pitied me, and without recognizing their own
+thought--for it was a striking instance of the difference in the
+gifts of nature--one man looking scarce possible to love, and beside
+him, another, of the same age, to whose mere first-seen beauty,
+without a word from his lips, any heart would seem unnatural not to
+leap in passionate surrender.
+
+We were the best of sudden friends, Palgray and I. He, like the rest,
+walked only the outer vestibule of the sympathies, viewlessly
+deepening and extending, hour by hour, in that frank and joyous
+circle. The interlinkings of soul, which need no language, and which
+go on, whether we will or no, while we talk with friends, are so
+strangely unthought of by the careless and happy. He saw in me no
+counter-worker to his influence. I was to him but a well-bred and
+extremely plain man, who tranquilly submitted to forego all the first
+prizes of life, content if I could contribute to society in its
+unexcited voids, and receive in return only the freedom of its outer
+intercourse, and its friendly esteem. But, oh! it was not in the same
+world that he and I knew Stephania. He approached her from the world
+in whose most valued excellences, beauty and wealth, he was
+pre-eminently gifted--I, from the viewless world, in which I had at
+least more skill and knowledge. In the month that I had known her
+before he came, I had sedulously addressed myself to a character
+within her, of which Palgray had not even a conjecture; and there was
+but one danger of his encroachment on the ground I had gained--her
+imagination might supply in him the nobler temple of soul-worship,
+which was still unbuilt, and which would never be builded except by
+pangs such as he was little likely to feel in the undeepening channel
+of happiness. He did not notice that _I_ never spoke to her in the
+same key of voice to which the conversation of others was attuned. He
+saw not that, while she turned to _him_ with a smile as a preparation
+to listen, she heard _my_ voice as if her attention had been arrested
+by distant music--with no change in her features except a look more
+earnest. She would have called _him_ to look with her at a glowing
+sunset, or to point out a new comer in the road from the village; but
+if the moon had gone suddenly into a cloud and saddened the face of
+the landscape, or if the wind had sounded mournfully through the
+trees, as she looked out upon the night, she would have spoken of that
+first to _me_.
+
+
+
+
+PART III.
+
+
+I am flying over the track, of what was to me a torrent--outlining its
+course by alighting upon, here and there, a point where it turned or
+lingered.
+
+The reader has been to Vallambrosa--if not once as a pilgrim, at least
+often with writers of travels in Italy. The usages of the convent are
+familiar to all memories--their lodging of the gentlemen of a party in
+cells of their own monastic privilege, and giving to the ladies less
+sacred hospitalities, in a secular building of meaner and
+unconsecrated architecture. (So, oh, mortifying brotherhood, you shut
+off your only chance of entertaining angels unaware!)
+
+Not permitted to eat with the ladies while on the holy mountain, Mr.
+Wangrave and his secretary, and Palgray and I, fed at the table with
+the aristocratic monks--(for they are the aristocrats of European
+holiness, these monks of Vallambrosa.) It was somewhat a relief to me,
+to be separated with my rival from the party in the feminine
+refectory, even for the short space of a meal-time; for the all-day
+suffering of presence with an unconscious trampler on my
+heart-strings; and in circumstances where all the triumphs were his
+own, were more than my intangible hold upon hope could well enable me
+to bear. I was happiest, therefore, when I was out of the presence of
+her to be near whom was all for which my life was worth having; and
+when we sat down at the long and bare table, with the thoughtful and
+ashen-cowled company, sad as I was, it was an opiate sadness--a
+suspension from self-mastery, under torture which others took to be
+pleasure.
+
+The temperature of the mountain-air was just such as to invite us to
+never enter doors except to eat and sleep; and breakfasting at
+convent-hours, we passed the long day in rambling up the ravines and
+through the sombre forests, drawing, botanizing, and conversing in
+group around some spot of exquisite natural beauty; and all of the
+party, myself excepted, supposing it to be the un-dissenting, common
+desire to contrive opportunity for the love-making of Palgray and
+Stephania. And, bitter though it was, in each particular instance, to
+accept a hint from one and another, and stroll off, leaving the
+confessed lovers alone by some musical water-fall, or in the secluded
+and twilight dimness of some curve in an overhanging ravine--places
+where only to breathe is to love--I still felt an instinctive
+prompting to rather anticipate than wait for these reminders, she
+alone knowing what it cost me to be without her in that delicious
+wilderness; and Palgray, as well as I could judge, having a mind out
+of harmony with both the wilderness and her.
+
+He loved her--loved her as well as most women need to be, or know that
+they can be loved. But he was too happy, too prosperous, too
+universally beloved, to love well. He was a man, with all his beauty,
+more likely to be fascinating to his own sex than to hers, for the
+women who love best, do not love in the character they live in; and
+his out-of-doors heart, whose joyfulness was so contagious, and whose
+bold impulses were so manly and open, contented itself with gay
+homage, and left unplummeted the sweetest as well as deepest wells of
+the thoughtful tenderness of woman.
+
+To most observers, Stephania Wangrave would have seemed only born to
+be gay--the mere habit of being happy having made its life-long
+imprint upon her expression of countenance, and all of her nature,
+that would be legible to a superficial reader, being brought out by
+the warm translucence of her smiles. But while I had seen this, in the
+first hour of my study of her, I was too advanced in my knowledge (of
+such works of nature as encroach on the models of Heaven) not to know
+this to be a light veil over a picture of melancholy meaning. Sadness
+was the tone of her mind's inner coloring. Tears were the
+subterranean river upon which her soul's bark floated with the most
+loved freight of her thought's accumulation--the sunny waters of joy,
+where alone she was thought to voyage, being the tide on which her
+heart embarked no venture, and which seemed to her triflingly garish
+and even profaning to the hallowed delicacy of the inner nature.
+
+It was so strange to me that Palgray did not see this through every
+lineament of her marvelous beauty. There was a glow under her skin,
+but no color--an effect of paleness--fair as the lotus-leaf, but
+warmer and brighter, and which came through the alabaster fineness of
+the grain, like something the eye cannot define, but which we know by
+some spirit-perception to be the effluence of purer existence, the
+breathing through, as it were, of the luminous tenanting of an angel.
+To this glowing paleness, with golden hair, I never had seen united
+any but a disposition of predominant melancholy; and it seemed to me
+dull indeed otherwise to read it. But there were other betrayals of
+the same inner nature of Stephania. Her lips, cut with the fine
+tracery of the penciling upon a tulip-cup, were of a slender and
+delicate fullness, expressive of a mind which took--(of the
+senses)--only so much life as would hold down the spirit during its
+probation; and when this spiritual mouth was at rest, no painter has
+ever drawn lips on which lay more of the unutterable pensiveness of
+beauty which we dream to have been Mary's, in the childhood of Jesus.
+A tear in the heart was the instinctive answer to Stephania's every
+look when she did not smile; and her large, soft, slowly-lifting eyes,
+were to any elevated perception, it seemed to me, most eloquent of
+tenderness as tearful as it was unfathomable and angelic.
+
+I shall have failed, however, in portraying truly the being of whom I
+am thus privileged to hold the likeness in my memory, if the reader
+fancies her to have nurtured her pensive disposition at the expense of
+a just value for real life, or a full development of womanly feelings.
+It was a peculiarity of her beauty, to my eye, that, with all her
+earnest leaning toward a thoughtful existence, there did not seem to
+be one vein beneath her pearly skin, not one wavy line in her
+faultless person, that did not lend its proportionate consciousness to
+her breathing sense of life. Her bust was of the slightest fullness
+which the sculptor would choose for the embodying of his ideal of the
+best blending of modesty with complete beauty; and her throat and
+arms--oh, with what an inexpressible pathos of loveliness, so to
+speak, was moulded, under an infantine dewiness of surface, their
+delicate undulations. No one could be in her presence without
+acknowledging the perfection of her form as a woman, and rendering the
+passionate yet subdued homage which the purest beauty fulfills its
+human errand by inspiring; but, while Palgray made the halo which
+surrounded her outward beauty the whole orbit of his appreciation, and
+made of it, too, the measure of the circle of topics he chose to talk
+upon, there was still another and far wider ring of light about her,
+which he lived in too dazzling a gayety of his own to see--a halo of
+a mind more beautiful than the body which shut it in; and in this
+intellectual orbit of guidance to interchange of mind, with manifold
+deeper and higher reach than Palgray's, upon whatever topic chanced to
+occur, revolved I, around her who was the loveliest and most gifted of
+all the human beings I had been privileged to meet.
+
+
+
+
+PART IV.
+
+
+The month was expiring at Vallambrosa, but I had not mingled, for that
+length of time, with a fraternity of thoughtful men, without
+recognition of some of that working of spontaneous and elective
+magnetism to which I have alluded in a previous part of this story.
+Opposite me, at the table of the convent refectory, had sat a taciturn
+monk, whose influence I felt from the first day--a stronger
+consciousness of his presence, that is to say, than of any one of the
+other monks--though he did not seem particularly to observe me, and
+till recently had scarce spoken to me at all. He was a man of perhaps
+fifty years of age, with the countenance of one who had suffered and
+gained a victory of contemplation--a look as if no suffering could be
+new to him, and before whom no riddle of human vicissitudes could stay
+unread; but over all this penetration and sagacity was diffused a cast
+of genial philanthropy and good-fellowship which told of his
+forgiveness of the world for what he had suffered in it. With a
+curiosity more at leisure, I should have sought him out, and joined
+him in his walks to know more of him; but spiritually acquainted
+though I felt we had become, I was far too busy with head and heart
+for any intercourse, except it had a bearing on the struggle for love
+that I was, to all appearance, so hopelessly making.
+
+Preparations were beginning for departure, and with the morrow, or the
+day after, I was to take my way to Venice--my friends bound to
+Switzerland and England, and propriety not permitting me to seek
+another move in their company. The evening on which this was made
+clear to me, was one of those continuations of day into night made by
+the brightness of a full Italian moon; and Palgray, whose face,
+troubled, for the first time, betrayed to me that he was at a crisis
+of his fate with Stephania, evidently looked forward to this glowing
+night as the favorable atmosphere in which he might urge his suit,
+with nature pleading in his behalf. The reluctance and evident
+irresolution of his daughter puzzled Mr. Wangrave--for he had no doubt
+that she loved Palgray, and his education of her head and heart gave
+him no clue to any principle of coquettishness, or willingness to give
+pain, for the pleasure of an exercise of power. Her mother, and all
+the members of the party, were aware of the mystery that hung over the
+suit of the young guardsman, but they were all alike discreet, while
+distressed, and confined their interference to the removal of
+obstacles in the way of the lovers being together, and the avoidance
+of any topics gay enough to change the key of her spirits from the
+natural softness of the evening.
+
+Vespers were over, and the sad-colored figures of the monks were
+gliding indolently here and there, and Stephania, with Palgray beside
+her, stood a little apart from the group at the door of the secular
+refectory, looking off at the fading purple of the sunset. I could not
+join her without crossing rudely the obvious wishes of every person
+present; yet for the last two days, I had scarce found the opportunity
+to exchange a word with her, and my emotion now was scarce
+controllable. The happier lover beside her, with his features
+heightened in expression (as I thought they never could be) by his
+embarrassment in wooing, was evidently and irresistibly the object of
+her momentary admiration. He offered her his arm, and made a movement
+toward the path off into the forest. There was an imploring deference
+infinitely becoming in his manner, and see it she must, with pride and
+pleasure. She hesitated--gave a look to where I stood, which explained
+to me better than a world of language, that she had wished at least to
+speak to me on this last evening--and, before the dimness over my eyes
+had passed away, they were gone. Oh! pitying Heaven! give me never
+again, while wrapt in mortal weakness, so harsh a pang to suffer.
+
+
+
+
+PART V.
+
+
+The convent-bell struck midnight, and there was a foot-fall in the
+cloister. I was startled by it out of an entire forgetfulness of all
+around me, for I was lying on my bed in the monastery cell, with my
+hands clasped over my eyes, as I had thrown myself down on coming in;
+and, with a strange contrariety, my mind, broken rudely from its hope,
+had flown to my far away home, oblivious of the benumbed links that
+lay between. A knock at my door completed the return to my despair,
+for with a look at the walls of my little chamber, in the bright beam
+of moonlight that streamed in at the narrow window, I was, by
+recognition, again at Vallambrosa, and Stephania, with an accepted
+lover's voice in her ear, was again near me, her moistened eyes
+steeped with Palgray's in the same beam of the all-visiting and
+unbetraying moon.
+
+Father Ludovic entered. The gentle tone of his _benedicite_, told me
+that he had come on an errand of sympathy. There was little need of
+preliminary between two who read the inner countenance as habitually
+as did both of us; and as briefly as the knowledge and present feeling
+of each could be re-expressed in words, we confirmed the
+spirit-mingling that had brought him there, and were presently as one.
+He had read truly the drama of love, enacting in the party of visiters
+to his convent, but his judgment of the possible termination of it was
+different from mine.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+Palgray's dormitory was at the extremity of the cloister, and we
+presently heard him pass.
+
+"She is alone, now," said Father Ludovic, "I will send you to her."
+
+My mind had strained to Stephania's presence with the first footsteps
+that told me of their separation; and it needed but a wave of his hand
+to unlink the spirit-wings from my weary frame. I was present with
+her.
+
+I struggled for a moment, but in vain, to see her face. Its expression
+was as visible as my hand in the sun, but no feature. The mind I had
+read was close to me, in a presence of consciousness; and, in points,
+here and there, brighter, bolder, and further-reaching than I had
+altogether believed. She was unutterably pure--a spirit without a
+spot--and I remained near her with a feeling as if my forehead were
+pressed down to the palms of my hands, in homage mixed with sorrow,
+for I should have more recognized this in my waking study of her
+nature.
+
+A moment more--a trembling effort, as if to read what were written to
+record my companionship for eternity--and a vague image of myself came
+out in shadow--clearer now, and still clearer, enlarging to the
+fullness of her mind. She thought wholly and only of that image I then
+saw, yet with a faint coloring playing to and from it, as influences
+came in from the outer world. Her eyes were turned in upon it in lost
+contemplation. But suddenly a new thought broke upon me. I saw my
+image, but it was not I, as I looked to myself. The type of my
+countenance was there; but, oh, transformed to an ideal, such as I
+now, for the first time, saw possible--ennobled in every defective
+line--purified of its taint from worldliness--inspired with high
+aspirations--cleared of what it had become cankered with, in its
+transmission through countless generations since first sent into the
+world, and restored to a likeness of the angel of whose illuminated
+lineaments it was first a copy. So thought Stephania of me. Thus did
+she believe I truly was. Oh! blessed, and yet humiliating, trust of
+woman! Oh! comparison of true and ideal, at which spirits must look
+out of heaven, and of which they must long, with aching pity, to make
+us thus rebukingly aware!
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+I felt myself withdrawing from Stephania's presence. There were tears
+between us, which I could not see. I strove to remain, but a stronger
+power than my will was at work within me. I felt my heart swell with a
+gasp, as if death were bearing out of it the principle of life; and my
+head dropped on the pillow of my bed.
+
+"Good night, my son," said the low voice of Father Ludovic, "I have
+willed that you should remember what you have seen. Be worthy of her
+love, for there are few like her."
+
+He closed the door, and as the glide of his sandals died away in the
+echoing cloisters, I leaned forth to spread my expanding heart in the
+upward and boundless light of the moon--for I seemed to wish never
+again to lose in the wasteful forgetfulness of sleep, the
+consciousness that I was loved by Stephania.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+I was journeying the next day, alone, toward Venice. I had left
+written adieux for the party at Vallambrosa, pleading to my friends an
+unwillingness to bear the pain of a formal separation. Betwixt
+midnight and morning, however, I had written a parting letter for
+Stephania, which I had committed to the kind envoying of Father
+Ludovic, and thus it ran:--
+
+         "When you read this, Stephania, I shall be alone
+         with the thought of you, traveling a reluctant
+         road, but still with a burthen in my heart which
+         will bring me to you again, and which even now
+         envelopes my pang of separation in a veil of
+         happiness. I have been blessed by Heaven's mercy
+         with the power to know that you love me. Were you
+         not what you are, I could not venture to startle
+         you thus with a truth which, perhaps, you have
+         hardly confessed in waking reality to yourself; but
+         you are one of those who are coy of no truth that
+         could be found to have lain without alarm in your
+         own bosom, and, with those beloved hands pressed
+         together with the earnestness of the clasp of
+         prayer, you will say, 'yes! I love him!'
+
+         "I leave you, now, not to put our love to trial,
+         and still less in the ordinary meaning of the
+         phrase, to prepare to wed you. The first is little
+         needed, angels in heaven well know. The second is a
+         thought which will be in time, when I have done the
+         work on which I am newly bent by the inspiration of
+         love--_the making myself what you think me to be_.
+         Oh, Stephania! to feel encouraged, as God has given
+         me strength to feel, that I may yet be this--that I
+         may yet bring you a soul brought up to the standard
+         you have raised, and achieve it by effort in
+         self-denial, and by the works of honor and goodness
+         that are as possible to a man in obscurity and
+         poverty as to his brother in wealth and
+         distinction--this is to me new life, boundless
+         enlargement of sphere, food for a love of which,
+         alas! I was not before worthy.
+
+         "I have told you unreservedly what my station in
+         life is--what my hopes are, and what career I had
+         marked out for struggle. I shall go on with the
+         career, though the prizes I then mentally saw have
+         since faded in value almost as much as my purpose
+         is strengthened. Fame and wealth, my pure,
+         Stephania, are to you as they now can only be to
+         me, larger trusts of service and duty; and if I
+         hope they will come while other aims are sought, it
+         is because they will confer happiness on parents
+         and friends who mistakenly suppose them necessary
+         to the winner of your heart. I hope to bring them
+         to you. I know that I shall come as welcome without
+         them.
+
+         "While I write--while my courage and hope throb
+         loud in the pulses of my bosom--I can think even
+         happily of separation. To leave you, the better to
+         return, is bearable--even pleasurable--to the
+         heart's noonday mood. But I have been steeped for a
+         summer, now, in a presence of visible and breathing
+         loveliness, (that you cannot forbid me to speak of,
+         since language is too poor to out-color truth,) and
+         there will come moments of depression--twilights of
+         deepening and undivided loneliness--hours of
+         illness, perhaps--and times of discouragement and
+         adverse cloudings over of Providence--when I shall
+         need to be remembered with sympathy, and to know
+         that I am so remembered. I do not ask you to write
+         to me. It would entail difficulties upon you, and
+         put between us an interchange of uncertainties and
+         possible misunderstandings. But I can communicate
+         with you by a surer medium, if you will grant a
+         request. The habits of your family are such that
+         you can, for the first hour after midnight, be
+         always alone. Waking or sleeping, there will then
+         be a thought of me occupying your heart, and--call
+         it a fancy if you will--I can come and read it on
+         the viewless wings of the soul.
+
+         "I commend your inexpressible earthly beauty, dear
+         Stephania, and your still brighter loveliness of
+         soul, to God's angel, who has never left you.
+         Farewell! You will see me when I am worthy of
+         you--if it be necessary that it should be first in
+         heaven, made so by forgiveness there.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_Cell of St. Eusebius, Vallambrosa--day-breaking_."
+
+
+
+
+A BUTTERFLY IN THE CITY.
+
+BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
+
+
+    Dear transient spirit of the fields,
+      Thou com'st, without distrust,
+    To fan the sunshine of our streets
+      Among the noise and dust.
+
+    Thou leadest in thy wavering flight
+      My footsteps unaware,
+    Until I seem to walk the vales
+      And breathe thy native air.
+
+    And thou hast fed upon the flowers,
+      And drained their honied springs,
+    Till every tender hue they wore
+      Is blooming on thy wings.
+
+    I bless the fresh and flowery light
+      Thou bringest to the town,
+    But tremble lest the hot turmoil
+      Have power to weigh thee down;
+
+    For thou art like the poet's song,
+      Arrayed in holiest dyes,
+    Though it hath drained the honied wells
+      Of flowers of Paradise;
+
+    Though it hath brought celestial hues
+      To light the ways of life,
+    The dust shall weigh its pinions down
+      Amid the noisy strife.
+
+    And yet, perchance, some kindred soul
+      Shall see its glory shine,
+    And feel its wings within his heart
+      As bright as I do thine.
+
+
+
+
+THE RIVAL SISTERS.
+
+AN ENGLISH TRAGEDY OF REAL LIFE.
+
+BY HENRY WILLIAM HERBERT, AUTHOR OF "THE ROMAN TRAITOR,"
+"MARMADUKE WYVIL," ETC.
+
+(_Concluded from page 22_.)
+
+
+PART II.
+
+
+A lovely summer's evening in the year 168-, was drawing toward its
+close, when many a gay and brilliant cavalcade of both sexes, many of
+the huge gilded coaches of that day, and many a train of liveried
+attendants, winding through the green lane, as they arrived, some in
+this direction from Eton, some in that, across Datchet-mead, from
+Windsor, and its royal castle, came thronging toward Ditton-in-the-Dale.
+
+Lights were beginning to twinkle, as the shadows fell thick among the
+arcades of the trim gardens, and the wilder forest-walks which
+extended their circuitous course for many a mile along the stately
+hall of the Fitz-Henries; loud bursts of festive or of martial music
+came pealing down the wind, mixed with the hum of a gay and happy
+concourse, causing the nightingales to hold their peace, not in
+despair of rivaling the melody, but that the mirth jarred unpleasantly
+on the souls of the melancholy birds.
+
+The gates of Ditton-in-the-Dale were flung wide open, for it was gala
+night, and never had the old hall put on a gayer or more sumptuous
+show than it had donned that evening.
+
+From far and near the gentry and the nobles of Buckingham and
+Berkshire had gathered to the birth-day ball--for such was the occasion
+of the festive meeting.
+
+Yes! it was Blanche Fitz-Henry's birth-day; and on this gay and glad
+anniversary was the fair heiress of that noble house to be introduced
+to the great world as the future owner of those beautiful demesnes.
+
+From the roof to the foundation the old manor-house--it was a stately
+red brick mansion of the latter period of Elizabethan architecture,
+with mullioned windows, and stacks of curiously wreathed chimneys--was
+one blaze of light; and as group after group of gay and high-born
+riders came caracoling up to the hospitable porch, and coach after
+coach, with its running footmen, or mounted outriders lumbered slowly
+in their train, the saloons and corridors began to fill up rapidly,
+with a joyous and splendid company.
+
+The entrance-hall, a vast square apartment, wainscoted with old
+English oak, brighter and richer in its dark hues than mahogany,
+received the entering guests; and what with the profusion of
+wax-lights, pendant in gorgeous chandeliers from the carved roof, or
+fixed in silver sconces to the walls, the gay festoons of green
+wreaths and fresh summer flowers, mixed quaintly with old armor,
+blazoned shields, and rustling banners, some of which had waved over
+the thirsty plains of Syria, and been fanned by the shouts of triumph
+that pealed so high at Cressy and Poitiers, it presented a not unapt
+picture of that midway period--that halting-place, as it were, between
+the old world and the new--when chivalry and feudalism had ceased
+already to exist among the nations, but before the rudeness of reform
+had banished the last remnants of courtesy, and the reverence for all
+things that were high and noble--for all things that were fair and
+graceful--for all things, in one word, except the golden calf, the
+mob-worshiped mammon.
+
+Within this stately hall was drawn up in glittering array, the
+splendid band of the Life Guards, for royally himself was present, and
+all the officers of that superb regiment, quartered at Windsor, had
+followed in his train; and as an ordinary courtesy to their
+well-proved and loyal host, the services of those chosen musicians had
+been tendered and accepted.
+
+Through many a dazzling corridor, glittering with lights, and redolent
+of choicest perfumes, through many a fair saloon the guests were
+marshaled to the great drawing-room, where, beneath a canopy of state,
+the ill-advised and imbecile monarch, soon to be deserted by the very
+princes and princesses who now clustered round his throne, sat, with
+his host and his lovely daughters at his right hand, accepting the
+homage of the fickle crowd, who were within a little year to bow
+obsequiously to the cold-blooded Hollander.
+
+That was a day of singular, and what would now be termed hideous
+costumes--a day of hair-powder and patches, of hoops and trains, of
+stiff brocades and tight-laced stomachers, and high-heeled shoes among
+the ladies--of flowing periwigs, and coats with huge cuffs and no
+collars, and voluminous skirts, of diamond-hilted rapiers, and diamond
+buckles, ruffles of Valenciennes and Mecklin lace, among the ruder
+sex. And though the individual might be metamorphosed strangely from
+the fair form which nature gave him, it cannot be denied that the
+concourse of highly-bred and graceful persons, when viewed as a whole,
+was infinitely more picturesque, infinitely more like what the fancy
+paints a meeting of the great and noble, than any assemblage
+now-a-days, however courtly or refined, in which the stiff dress coats
+and white neckcloths of the men are not to be redeemed by the Parisian
+finery--how much more natural, let critics tell, than the hoop and
+train--of the fair portion of the company.
+
+The rich materials, the gay colors, the glittering jewelry, and waving
+plumes, all contributed their part to the splendor of the show; and in
+those days a gentleman possessed at least this advantage, lost to him
+in these practical utilitarian times, that he could not by any
+possibility be mistaken for his own _valet de chambre_--a misfortune
+which has befallen many a one, the most aristocratic not excepted, of
+modern nobility.
+
+A truly graceful person will be graceful, and look well in every garb,
+however strange or _outre_; and there is, moreover, undoubtedly
+something, apart from any paltry love of finery, or mere vanity of
+person, which elevates the thoughts, and stamps a statelier demeanor
+on the man who is clad highly for some high occasion. The custom, too,
+of wearing arms, peculiar to the gentleman of that day, had its
+effect, and that not a slight one, as well on the character as on the
+bearing of the individual so distinguished.
+
+As for the ladies, loveliness will still be loveliness, disguise it as
+you may; and if the beauties of King James's court lost much by the
+travesty of their natural ringlets, they gained, perhaps, yet more
+from the increased lustre of their complexions and brilliancy of their
+eyes.
+
+So that it is far from being the case, as is commonly supposed, that
+it was owing to fashion alone, and the influence of all powerful
+custom, that the costume of that day was not tolerated only, but
+admired by its wearers.
+
+At this time, however, the use of hair-powder, though general, was by
+no means universal; and many beauties, who fancied that it did not
+suit their complexions, dispensed with it altogether, or wore it in
+some modified shape, and tinged with some coloring matter, which
+assimilated it more closely to the natural tints of the hair.
+
+At all events, it must have been a dull eye, and a cold heart, that
+could have looked undelighted on the assemblage that night gathered in
+the ball-room of Ditton-in-the-Dale.
+
+But now the reception was finished; the royal party moved into the
+ball-room, from which they shortly afterward retired, leaving the
+company at liberty from the restraint which their presence had imposed
+upon them. The concourse broke up into little groups; the stately
+minuet was performed, and livelier dances followed it; and gentlemen
+sighed tender sighs, and looked unutterable things; and ladies
+listened to soft nonsense, and smiled gentle approbation; and melting
+glances were exchanged, and warm hands were pressed warmly; and fans
+were flirted angrily, and flippant jokes were interchanged--for human
+nature, whether in the seventeeth or the nineteenth century, whether
+arrayed in brocade, or simply dressed in broadcloth, is human nature
+still; and, perhaps, not one feeling, or one passion, that actuated
+man's or woman's heart five hundred years ago, but dwells within it
+now, and shall dwell unchanged forever.
+
+It needs not to say that, on such an occasion, in their own father's
+mansion, and at the celebration of one sister's birth-day, Blanche and
+Agnes, had their attractions been much smaller, their pretensions much
+more lowly than they really were, would have received boundless
+attention. But being as they were infinitely the finest girls in the
+room, and being, moreover, new _debutantes_ on the stage of fashion,
+there was no limit to the admiration, to the _furor_ which they
+excited among the wits and lady-killers of the day.
+
+Many an antiquated Miss, proud of past conquests, and unable yet to
+believe that her career of triumph was, indeed, ended, would turn up
+an envious nose, and utter a sharp sneer at the forwardness and hoyden
+mirth of that pert Mistress Agnes, or at the coldness and inanimate
+smile of the fair heiress; but the sneer, even were it the sneer of a
+duke's or a minister's daughter, fell harmless, or yet worse, drew
+forth a prompt defence of the unjustly assailed beauty.
+
+No greater proof could be adduced, indeed, of the amazing success of
+the sister beauties, than the unanimous decision of every lady in the
+room numbering less than forty years, that they were by no means
+uncommon; were pretty country hoppets, who, as soon as the novelty of
+their first appearance should have worn out, would cease to be
+admired, and sink back into their proper sphere of insignificance.
+
+So thought not the gentle cavaliers; and there were many present
+there, well qualified to judge of ladies' minds as of ladies' persons;
+and not a few were heard to swear aloud, that the Fitz-Henries were as
+far above the rest of their sex in wit, and graceful accomplishment,
+as in beauty of form and face, and elegance of motion.
+
+See! they are dancing now some gay, newly invented, Spanish dance,
+each whirling through the voluptuous mazes of the courtly measure with
+her own characteristic air and manner, each evidently pleased with her
+partner, each evidently charming him in turn; and the two together
+enchaining all eyes, and interesting all spectators, so that a gentle
+hum of approbation is heard running through the crowd, as they pause,
+blushing and panting from the exertion and excitement of the dance.
+
+"Fore Gad! she is exquisite, George! I have seen nothing like her in
+my time," lisped a superb coxcomb, attired in a splendid civilian's
+suit of Pompadour and silver, to a young cornet of the Life Guard who
+stood beside him.
+
+"Which _she_, my lord?" inquired the standard-bearer, in reply.
+"Methinks they both deserve your encomiums; but I would fain know
+which of the two your lordship means, for fame speaks you a dangerous
+rival against whom to enter the lists."
+
+"What, George!" cried the other, gayly, "are you about to have a throw
+for the heiress? Pshaw! it wont do, man--never think of it! Why,
+though you are an earl's second son, and date your creation from the
+days of Hump-backed Dickon, old Allan would vote you a _novus homo_,
+as we used to say at Christ Church. Pshaw! George, go hang yourself!
+No one has a chance of winning that fair loveliness, much less of
+wearing her, unless he can quarter Sir Japhet's bearings on his coat
+armorial."
+
+"It _is_ the heiress, then, my lord," answered George Delawarr,
+merrily. "I thought as much from the first. Well, I'll relieve your
+lordship, as you have relieved me, from all fear of rivalry. I am
+devoted to the dark beauty. Egad! there's life, there's fire for you!
+Why, I should have thought the flash of that eye-glance would have
+reduced Jack Greville to cinders in a moment, yet there he stands, as
+calm and impassive a puppy as ever dangled a plumed hat, or played
+with a sword-knot. Your fair beauty's cold, my lord. Give me that
+Italian complexion, and that coal-black hair! Gad zooks! I honor the
+girl's spirit for not disguising it with starch and pomatum. There's
+more passion in her little finger, than in the whole soul of the
+other."
+
+"You're out there, George Delawarr," returned the peer. "Trust me, it
+is not always the quickest flame that burns the strongest; nor the
+liveliest girl that feels the most deeply. There's an old saying, and
+a true one, that still water aye runs deep. And, trust me, if I know
+any thing of the dear, delicious, devilish sex, as methinks I am not
+altogether a novice at the trade, if ever Blanche Fitz-Henry love at
+all, she will love with her whole soul and heart and spirit. That gay,
+laughing brunette will love you with her tongue, her eyes, her head,
+and perhaps her fancy--the other, if, as I say, she ever love at all,
+will love with her whole being."
+
+"The broad acres! my lord! all the broad acres!" replied the cornet,
+laughing more merrily than before. "Fore Gad! I think it the very
+thing for you. For the first Lord St. George was, I believe, in the
+ark with Noah, so that you will pass current with the first gentleman
+of England. I prithee, my lord, push your suit, and help me on a
+little with my dark Dulcinea."
+
+"Faith! George, I've no objection; and see, this dance is over. Let us
+go up and ask their fair hands. You'll have no trouble in ousting that
+shallow-pated puppy Jack, and I think I can put the pass on Mr.
+privy-counsellor there, although he is simpering so prettily. But,
+hold a moment, have you been duly and in form presented to your
+black-eyed beauty?"
+
+"Upon my soul! I hope so, my lord. It were very wrong else; for I have
+danced with her three times to-night already."
+
+"The devil! Well, come along, quick. I see that they are going to
+announce supper, so soon as this next dance shall be ended; and if we
+can engage them now, we shall have their fair company for an hour at
+least."
+
+"I am with you, my lord!"
+
+And away they sauntered through the crowd, and ere long were coupled
+for a little space each to the lady of his choice.
+
+The dance was soon over, and then, as Lord St. George had surmised,
+supper was announced, and the cavaliers led their ladies to the
+sumptuous board, and there attended them with all that courtly and
+respectful service, which, like many another good thing, has passed
+away and been forgotten with the diamond-hilted sword, and the full
+bottomed periwig.
+
+George Delawarr was full as ever of gay quips and merry repartees; his
+wit was as sparkling as the champagne which in some degree inspired
+it, and as innocent. There was no touch of bitterness or satire in his
+polished and gentle humor; no envy or dislike pointed his quick,
+epigrammatic speech; but all was clear, light, and transparent, as the
+sunny air at noonday. Nor was his conversation altogether light and
+mirthful. There were at times bursts of high enthusiasm, at which he
+would himself laugh heartily a moment afterward--there were touches of
+passing romance and poetry blending in an under-current with his
+fluent mirth; and, above all, there was an evident strain of right
+feeling, of appreciation of all that was great and generous and good,
+predominant above romance and wit, perceptible in every word he
+uttered.
+
+And Agnes listened, and laughed, and flung back skillfully and
+cleverly the ball of conversation, as he tossed it to her. She was
+pleased, it was evident, and amused. But she was pleased only as with
+a clever actor, a brilliant performer on some new instrument now heard
+for the first time. The gay, wild humor of the young man hit her
+fancy; his mad wit struck a kindred chord in her mind; but the latent
+poetry and romance passed unheeded, and the noblest point of all, the
+good and gracious feelings, made no impression on the polished but
+hard surface of the bright maiden's heart.
+
+Meantime, how fared the peer with the calmer and gentler sister? Less
+brilliant than George Delawarr, he had traveled much, had seen more of
+men and things, had a more cultivated mind, was more of a scholar, and
+no less of a gentleman, scarce less perhaps of a soldier; for he had
+served a campaign or two in his early youth in the Low Countries.
+
+He was a noble and honorable man, clever, and eloquent, and well
+esteemed--a little, perhaps, spoiled by that good esteem, a little too
+confident of himself, too conscious of his own good mien and good
+parts, and a little hardened, if very much polished, by continual
+contact with the world.
+
+He was, however, an easy and agreeable talker, accustomed to the
+society of ladies, in which he was held to shine, and fond of shining.
+He exerted himself also that night, partly because he was really
+struck with Blanche's grace and beauty, partly because Delawarr's
+liveliness and wit excited him to a sort of playful rivalry.
+
+Still, he was not successful; for though Blanche listened graciously,
+and smiled in the right places, and spoke in answer pleasantly and
+well, when she did speak, and evidently wished to appear and to be
+amused; her mind was at times absent and distracted, and it could not
+long escape the observation of so thorough a man of the world as Lord
+St. George, that he had not made that impression on the young country
+damsel which he was wont to make, with one half the effort, on what
+might be supposed more difficult ladies.
+
+But though he saw this plainly, he was too much of a gentleman to be
+either piqued or annoyed; and if any thing he exerted himself the more
+to please, when he believed exertion useless; and by degrees his
+gentle partner laid aside her abstraction, and entered into the spirit
+of the hour with something of her sister's mirth, though with a
+quieter and more chastened tone.
+
+It was a pleasant party, and a merry evening; but like all other
+things, merry or sad, it had its end, and passed away, and by many was
+forgotten; but there were two persons present there who never while
+they lived forgot that evening--for there were other two, to whom it
+was indeed the commencement of the end.
+
+But the hour for parting had arrived, and with the ceremonious
+greetings of those days, deep bows and stately courtesies, and kissing
+of fair hands, and humble requests to be permitted to pay their duty
+on the following day, the cavaliers and ladies parted.
+
+When the two gallants stood together in the great hall, George
+Delawarr turned suddenly to the peer--
+
+"Where the deuce are you going to sleep to-night, St. George? You came
+down hither all the way from London, did you not? You surely do not
+mean to return to-night."
+
+"I surely do not _wish_ it, you mean, George. No, truly. But I do mean
+it. For my fellows tell me that there is not a bed to be had for love,
+which does not at all surprise me, or for money, which I confess does
+somewhat, in Eton, Slough, or Windsor. And if I must go back to
+Brentford or to Hounslow, as well at once to London."
+
+"Come with me! Come with me, St. George. I can give you quarters in
+the barracks, and a good breakfast, and a game of tennis if you will;
+and afterward, if you like, we'll ride over and see how these
+bright-eyed beauties look by daylight, after all this night-work."
+
+"A good offer, George, and I'll take it as it is offered."
+
+"How are you here? In a great lumbering coach I suppose. Well, look
+you, I have got two horses here; you shall take mine, and I'll ride on
+my fellow's, who shall go with your people and pilot them on the road,
+else they'll be getting that great gilded Noah's ark into
+Datchet-ditch. Have you got any tools? Ay! ay! I see you travel well
+equipped, if you do ride in your coach. Now your riding-cloak, the
+nights are damp here, by the river-side, even in summer; oh! never
+mind your pistols, you'll find a brace in my holsters, genuine
+Kuchenreuters. I can hit a crown piece with them, for a hundred
+guineas, at fifty paces."
+
+"Heaven send that you never shoot at me with them, if that's the case,
+George."
+
+"Heaven send that I never shoot at any one, my lord, unless it be an
+enemy of my king and country, and in open warfare; for so certainly as
+I do shoot I shall kill."
+
+"I do not doubt you, George. But let's be off. The lights are burning
+low in the sockets, and these good fellows are evidently tired out
+with their share of our festivity. Fore Gad! I believe we are the
+last of the guests."
+
+And with the word, the young men mounted joyously, and galloped away
+at the top of their horses' speed to the quarters of the life-guard in
+Windsor.
+
+Half an hour after their departure, the two sisters sat above stairs
+in a pleasant chamber, disrobing themselves, with the assistance of
+their maidens, of the cumbrous and stiff costumes of the ball-room,
+and jesting merrily over the events of the evening.
+
+"Well, Blanche," said Agnes archly, "confess, siss, who is the lord
+paramount, the beau _par excellence_, of the ball? I know, you demure
+puss! After all, it is ever the quiet cat that licks the cream. But to
+think that on your very first night you should have made such a
+conquest. So difficult, too, to please, they say, and all the great
+court ladies dying for him."
+
+"Hush! madcap. I don't know who you mean. At all events, I have not
+danced four dances in one evening with one cavalier. Ah! have I caught
+you, pretty mistress?"
+
+"Oh! that was only _poor_ George Delawarr. A paltry cornet in the
+guards. He will do well enough to have dangling after one, to play
+with, while he amuses one--but fancy, being proud of conquering poor
+George! His namesake with the Saint before it were worth a score of
+such."
+
+"Fie, sister!" said Blanche, gravely. "I do not love to hear you talk
+so. I am sure he's a very pretty gentleman, and has twice as much head
+as my lord, if I'm not mistaken; and three times as much heart."
+
+"Heart, indeed, siss! Much you know about hearts, I fancy. But, now
+that you speak of it, I _will_ try if he has got a heart. If he has,
+he will do well to pique some more eligible--"
+
+"Oh! Agnes, Agnes! I cannot hear you--"
+
+"Pshaw!" interrupted the younger sister, very bitterly, "this
+affectation of sentiment and disinterestedness sits very prettily on
+the heiress of Ditton-in-the-Dale, Long Netherby, and Waltham Ferrers,
+three manors, and ten thousand pounds a year to buy a bridegroom! Poor
+I, with my face for my fortune, must needs make my wit eke out my want
+of dowry. And I'm not one, I promise you, siss, to choose love in a
+cottage. No, no! Give me your Lord St. George, and I'll make over all
+my right and title to poor George Delawarr this minute. Heigho! I
+believe the fellow is smitten with me after all. Well, well! I'll have
+some fun with him before I have done yet."
+
+"Agnes," said Blanche, gravely, but reproachfully, "I have long seen
+that you are light, and careless whom you wound with your wild words,
+but I never thought before that you were bad-hearted."
+
+"Bad-hearted, sister!"
+
+"Yes! bad-hearted! To speak to me of manors, or of money, as if for
+fifty wills, or five hundred fathers, I would ever profit by a
+parent's whim to rob my sister of her portion. As if I would not
+rather lie in the cold grave, than that my sister should have a wish
+ungratified, which I had power to gratify, much less that she should
+narrow down the standard of her choice--the holiest and most sacred
+thing on earth--to the miserable scale of wealth and title. Out upon
+it! out upon it! Never, while you live, speak so to me again!"
+
+"Sister, I never will. I did not mean it, sister, dear," cried Agnes,
+now much affected, as she saw how vehemently Blanche was moved. "You
+should not heed me. You know my wild, rash way, and how I speak
+whatever words come first."
+
+"Those were very meaning words, Agnes--and very bitter, too. They cut
+me to the heart," cried the fair girl, bursting into a flood of
+passionate tears.
+
+"Oh! do not--do not, Blanche. Forgive me, dearest! Indeed, indeed, I
+meant nothing!"
+
+"Forgive you, Agnes! I have nothing to forgive. I was not even angry,
+but pained, but sorry for you, sister; for sure I am, that if you give
+way to this bitter, jealous spirit, you will work much anguish to
+yourself, and to all those who love you."
+
+"Jealous, Blanche!"
+
+"Yes, Agnes, jealous! But let us say no more. Let this pass, and be
+forgotten; but never, dear girl, if you love me, as I think you do,
+never _so_ speak to me again."
+
+"I never, never will." And she fell upon her neck, and kissed her
+fondly, as her heart relented, and she felt something of sincere
+repentance for the harsh words which she had spoken, and the hard,
+bitter feelings which suggested them.
+
+Another hour, and, clasped in each others' arms, they were sleeping as
+sweetly as though no breath of this world's bitterness had ever blown
+upon their hearts, or stirred them into momentary strife.
+
+Peace to their slumbers, and sweet dreams!
+
+It was, perhaps, an hour or two after noon, and the early dinner of
+the time was already over, when the two sisters strolled out into the
+gardens, unaccompanied, except by a tall old greyhound, Blanche's
+peculiar friend and guardian, and some two or three beautiful
+silky-haired King Charles spaniels.
+
+After loitering for a little while among the trim parterres, and
+box-edged terraces, and gathering a few sweet summer flowers, they
+turned to avoid the heat, which was excessive, into the dark elm
+avenue, and wandered along between the tall black yew hedges, linked
+arm-in-arm, indeed, but both silent and abstracted, and neither of
+them conscious of the rich melancholy music of the nightingales, which
+was ringing all around them in that pleasant solitude.
+
+Both, indeed, were buried in deep thought; and each, perhaps, for the
+first time in her life, felt that her thought was such that she could
+not, dared not, communicate it to her sister.
+
+For Blanche Fitz-Henry had, on the previous night, began, for the
+first time in her life, to suspect that she was the owner, for the
+time being, of a commodity called a heart, although it may be that the
+very suspicion proved in some degree that the possession was about to
+pass, if it were not already passing, from her.
+
+In sober seriousness, it must be confessed that the young cornet of
+the Life Guards, although he had made so little impression on her to
+whom he had devoted his attentions, had produced an effect different
+from any thing which she had ever fell before on the mind of the elder
+sister. It was not his good mien, nor his noble air that had struck
+her; for though he was a well-made, fine-looking man, of graceful
+manners, and high-born carriage, there were twenty men in the room
+with whom he could not for five minutes have sustained a comparison in
+point of personal appearance.
+
+His friend, the Viscount St. George, to whom she had lent but a cold
+ear, was a far handsomer man. Nor was it his wit and gay humor, and
+easy flow of conversation, that had captivated her fancy; although she
+certainly did think him the most agreeable man she had ever listened
+to. No, it was the under-current of delicate and poetical thought, the
+glimpses of a high and noble spirit, which flashed out at times
+through the light veil of reckless merriment, which, partly in
+compliance with the spirit of the day, and partly because his was a
+gay and mirthful nature, he had superinduced over the deeper and
+grander points of his character. No; it was a certain originality of
+mind, which assured her that, though he might talk lightly, he was one
+to feel fervently and deeply--it was the impress of truth, and candor,
+and high independence, which was stamped on his every word and action,
+that first riveted her attention, and, in spite of her resistance,
+half fascinated her imagination.
+
+This it was that had held her abstracted and apparently indifferent,
+while Lord St. George was exerting all his powers of entertainment in
+her behalf; this it was that had roused her indignation at hearing her
+sister speak so slightingly, and, as it seemed to her, so ungenerously
+of one whom she felt intuitively to be good and noble.
+
+This it was which now held her mute and thoughtful, and almost sad;
+for she felt conscious that she was on the verge of loving--loving one
+who, for aught that he had shown as yet, cared naught for her, perhaps
+even preferred another--and that other her own sister.
+
+Thereupon her maiden modesty rallied tumultuous to the rescue, and
+suggested the shame of giving love unasked, giving it, perchance, to
+be scorned--and almost she resolved to stifle the infant feeling in
+its birth, and rise superior to the weakness. But when was ever love
+vanquished by cold argument, or bound at the chariot-wheels of reason.
+
+The thought would still rise up prominent, turn her mind to whatever
+subject she would, coupled with something of pity at the treatment
+which he was like to meet from Agnes, something of vague, unconfessed
+pleasure that it was so, and something of secret hope that his eyes
+would erelong be opened, and that she might prove, in the end, herself
+his consoler.
+
+And what, meanwhile, were the dreams of Agnes? Bitter--bitter, and
+black, and hateful. Oh! it is a terrible consideration, how swiftly
+evil thoughts, once admitted to the heart, take root and flourish, and
+grow up into a rank and poisonous crop, choking the good grain
+utterly, and corrupting the very soil of which they have taken hold.
+There is but one hope--but one! To tear them from the root forcibly,
+though the heart-strings crack, and the soul trembles, as with a
+spiritual earthquake. To nerve the mind firmly and resolutely, yet
+humbly withal, and contritely, and with prayer against temptation,
+prayer for support from on high--to resist the Evil One with the whole
+force of the intellect, the whole truth of the heart, and to stop the
+ears steadfastly against the voice of the charmer, charm he never so
+wisely.
+
+But so did not Agnes Fitz-Henry. It is true that on the preceding
+night her better feelings had been touched, her heart had relented,
+and she had banished, as she thought, the evil counsellors, ambition,
+envy, jealousy, and distrust, from her spirit.
+
+But with the night the better influence passed away, and ere the
+morning had well come, the evil spirit had returned to his dwelling
+place, and brought with him other spirits, worse and more wicked than
+himself.
+
+The festive scene of the previous evening had, for the first time
+opened her eyes fairly to her own position; she read it in the
+demeanor of all present; she heard it in the whispers which
+unintentionally reached her ears; she felt it intuitively in the
+shade--it was not a shade, yet she observed it--of difference
+perceptible in the degree of deference and courtesy paid to herself
+and to her sister.
+
+She felt, for the first time, that Blanche was every thing, herself a
+mere cipher--that Blanche was the lady of the manor, the cynosure of
+all eyes, the queen of all hearts, herself but the lady's poor
+relation, the dependent on her bounty, and at the best a creature to
+be played with, and petted for her beauty and her wit, without regard
+to her feelings, or sympathy for her heart.
+
+And prepared as she was at all times to resist even just authority
+with insolent rebellion; ready as she was always to assume the
+defensive, and from that the offensive against all whom she fancied
+offenders, how angrily did her heart now boil up, how almost fiercely
+did she muster her faculties to resist, to attack, to conquer, to
+annihilate all whom she deemed her enemies--and that, for the moment,
+was the world.
+
+Conscious of her own beauty, of her own wit, of her own high and
+powerful intellect, perhaps over-confident in her resources, she
+determined on that instant that she would devote them all, all to one
+purpose, to which she would bend every energy, direct every thought of
+her mind--to her own aggrandizement, by means of some great and
+splendid marriage, which should set her as far above the heiress of
+Ditton-in-the-Dale, as the rich heiress now stood in the world's eye
+above the portionless and dependent sister.
+
+Nor was this all--there was a sterner, harder, and more wicked feeling
+yet, springing up in her heart, and whispering the sweetness of
+revenge--revenge on that amiable and gentle sister, who, so far from
+wronging her, had loved her ever with the tenderest and most
+affectionate love, who would have sacrificed her dearest wishes to her
+welfare--but whom, in the hardness of her embittered spirit, she could
+now see only as an intruder upon her own just rights, a rival on the
+stage of fashion, perhaps in the interests of the heart--whom she
+already envied, suspected, almost hated.
+
+And Blanche, at that self-same moment, had resolved to keep watch on
+her own heart narrowly, and to observe her sister's bearing toward
+George Delawarr, that in case she should perceive her favoring his
+suit, she might at once crush down the germ of rising passion, and
+sacrifice her own to her dear sister's happiness.
+
+Alas! Blanche! Alas! Agnes!
+
+Thus they strolled onward, silently and slowly, until they reached the
+little green before the summer-house, which was then the gayest and
+most lightsome place that can be imagined, with its rare paintings
+glowing in their undimmed hues, its gilding bright and burnished, its
+furniture all sumptuous and new, and instead of the dark funereal ivy,
+covered with woodbine and rich clustered roses. The windows were all
+thrown wide open to the perfumed summer air, and the warm light poured
+in through the gaps in the tree-tops, and above the summits of the
+then carefully trimmed hedgerows, blithe and golden.
+
+They entered and sat down, still pensive and abstracted; but erelong
+the pleasant and happy influences of the time and place appeared to
+operate in some degree on the feelings of both, but especially on the
+tranquil and well-ordered mind of the elder sister. She raised her
+head suddenly, and was about to speak, when the rapid sound of horses'
+feet, unheard on the soft sand until they were hard by, turned her
+attention to the window, and the next moment the two young cavaliers,
+who were even then uppermost in her mind, came into view, cantering
+along slowly on their well-managed chargers.
+
+Her eye was not quicker than those of the gallant riders, who, seeing
+the ladies, whom they had ridden over to visit, sitting by the windows
+of the summer-house, checked their horses on the instant, and doffed
+their plumed hats.
+
+"Good faith, fair ladies, we are in fortune's graces to-day," said the
+young peer, gracefully, "since having ridden thus far on our way to
+pay you our humble devoirs, we meet you thus short of our journey's
+end."
+
+"But how are we to win our way to you," cried Delawarr, "as you sit
+there bright _chatelaines_ of your enchanted bower--for I see neither
+fairy skiff, piloted by grim-visaged dwarfs, to waft us over, nor even
+a stray dragon, by aid of whose broad wings to fly across this mimic
+moat, which seems to be something of the deepest?"
+
+"Oh! gallop on, gay knights," said Agnes, smiling on Lord St. George,
+but averting her face somewhat from the cornet, "gallop on to the
+lodges, and leaving there your coursers, take the first path on the
+left hand, and that will lead you to our presence; and should you
+peradventure get entangled in the hornbeam maze, why, one of us two
+will bring you the clue, like a second Ariadne. Ride on and we will
+meet you. Come, sister, let us walk."
+
+Blanche had as yet scarcely found words to reply to the greeting of
+the gallants, for the coincidence of their arrival with her own
+thoughts had embarrassed her a little, and she had blushed crimson as
+she caught the eye of George Delawarr fixed on her with a marked
+expression, beneath which her own dropped timidly. But now she arose,
+and bowing with an easy smile, and a few pleasant words, expressed her
+willingness to abide by her sister's plan.
+
+In a few minutes the ladies met their gallants in the green labyrinth
+of which Agnes had spoken, and falling into pairs, for the walk was
+too narrow to allow them all four to walk abreast, they strolled in
+company toward the Hall.
+
+What words they said, I am not about to relate--for such
+conversations, though infinitely pleasant to the parties, are for the
+most part infinitely dull to third persons--but it so fell out, not
+without something of forwardness and marked management, which did not
+escape the young soldier's rapid eye, on the part of Agnes, that the
+order of things which had been on the previous evening was reversed;
+the gay, rattling girl attaching herself perforce to the viscount, not
+without a sharp and half-sarcastic jest at the expense of her former
+partner, and the mild heiress falling to his charge.
+
+George Delawarr had been smitten, it is true, the night before by the
+gayety and rapid intellect of Agnes, as well as by the wild and
+peculiar style of her beauty; and it might well have been that the
+temporary fascination might have ripened into love. But he was hurt,
+and disgusted even more than hurt, by her manner, and observing her
+with a watchful eye as she coquetted with his friend, he speedily came
+to the conclusion that St. George was right in his estimate of _her_
+character at least, although he now seemed to be flattered and amused
+by her evident prepossession in his favor.
+
+He had not, it is true, been deeply enough touched to feel either
+pique or melancholy at this discovery, but was so far heart-whole as
+to be rather inclined to laugh at the fickleness of the merry jilt,
+than either to repine or to be angry.
+
+He was by no means the man, however, to cast away the occasion of
+pleasure; and walking with so beautiful and soft a creature as
+Blanche, he naturally abandoned himself to the tide of the hour, and
+in a little while found himself engaged in a conversation, which, if
+less sparkling and brilliant, was a thousand times more charming than
+that which he had yesterday held with her sister.
+
+In a short time he had made the discovery that with regard to the
+elder sister, too, his friend's penetration had exceeded his own; and
+that beneath that calm and tranquil exterior there lay a deep and
+powerful mind, stored with a treasury of the richest gems of thought
+and feeling. He learned in that long woodland walk that she was,
+indeed, a creature both to adore and to be adored; and he, too, like
+St. George, was certain, that the happy man whom she should love,
+would be loved for himself alone, with the whole fervor, the whole
+truth, the whole concentrated passion of a heart, the flow of which
+once unloosed, would be but the stronger for the restraint which had
+hitherto confined it.
+
+Erelong, as they reached the wider avenue, the two parties united, and
+then, more than ever, he perceived the immense superiority in all
+lovable, all feminine points, of the elder to the younger sister; for
+Agnes, though brilliant and seemingly thoughtless and spirit-free as
+ever, let fall full many a bitter word, many a covert taunt and hidden
+sneer, which, with his eyes now opened as they were, he readily
+detected, and which Blanche, as he could discover, even through her
+graceful quietude, felt, and felt painfully.
+
+They reached the Hall at length, and were duly welcomed by its master;
+refreshments were offered and accepted--and the young men were invited
+to return often, and a day was fixed on which they should partake the
+hospitalities of Ditton, at least as temporary residents.
+
+The night was already closing in when they mounted their horses and
+withdrew, both well pleased with their visit--for the young lord was
+in pursuit of amusement only, and seeing at a glance the coyness of
+the heiress, and the somewhat forward coquetry of her sister, he had
+accommodated himself to circumstances, and determined that a passing
+flirtation with so pretty a girl, and a short _sejour_ at a house so
+well-appointed as Ditton, would be no unpleasant substitute for London
+in the dog-days; and George Delawarr, like Romeo, had discarded the
+imaginary love the moment he found the true Juliet. If not in love, he
+certainly was fascinated, charmed; he certainly thought Blanche the
+sweetest, and most lovely girl he had ever met, and was well inclined
+to believe that she was the best and most admirable. He trembled on
+the verge of his fate.
+
+And she--her destiny was fixed already, and forever! And when she saw
+her sister delighted with the attentions of the youthful nobleman, she
+smiled to herself, and dreamed a pleasant dream, and gave herself up
+to the sweet delusion. She had already asked her own heart "does he
+love me?" and though it fluttered sorely, and hesitated for a while,
+it did not answer, "No!"
+
+But as the gentlemen rode homeward, St. George turned shortly on his
+companion, and said, gravely,
+
+"You have changed your mind, Delawarr, and found out that I am right.
+Nevertheless, beware! do not, for God's sake, fall in love with her,
+or make her love you!"
+
+The blood flushed fiery-red to the ingenuous brow of George Delawarr,
+and he was embarrassed for a moment. Then he tried to turn off his
+confusion with a jest.
+
+"What, jealous, my lord! jealous of a poor cornet, with no other
+fortune than an honorable name, and a bright sword! I thought you,
+too, had changed your mind, when I saw you flirting so merrily with
+that merry brunette."
+
+"You did see me _flirting_, George--nothing more; and I _have_ changed
+my mind, since the beginning, if not since the end of last
+evening--for I thought at first that fair Blanche Fitz-Henry would
+make me a charming wife; and now I am sure that she would _not_--"
+
+"Why so, my lord? For God's sake! why say you so?"
+
+"Because she never would love _me_, George; and _I_ would never marry
+any woman, unless I were sure that she both could and did. So you see
+that I am not the least jealous; but still I say, don't fall in love
+with her--"
+
+"Faith! St. George, but your admonition comes somewhat late--for I
+believe I am half in love with her already."
+
+"Then stop where you are, and go no deeper--for if I err not, she is
+more than half in love with you, too."
+
+"A strange reason, St. George, wherefore to bid me stop!"
+
+"A most excellent good one!" replied the other, gravely, and almost
+sadly, "for mutual love between you two can only lead to mutual
+misery. Her father never would consent to her marrying you more than
+he would to her marrying a peasant--the man is perfectly insane on the
+subject of title-deeds and heraldry, and will accept no one for his
+son-in-law who cannot show as many quarterings as a Spanish grandee,
+or a German noble. But, of course, it is of no use talking about it.
+Love never yet listened to reason; and, moreover, I suppose what is to
+be is to be--come what may."
+
+"And what will you do, St. George, about Agnes? I think you are
+touched there a little!"
+
+"Not a whit I--honor bright! And for what I will do--amuse myself,
+George--amuse myself, and that pretty coquette, too; and if I find her
+less of a coquette, with more of a heart than I fancy she has--" he
+stopped short, and laughed.
+
+"Well, what then--what then?" cried George Delawarr.
+
+"It will be time enough to decide _then_."
+
+"And so say I, St. George. Meanwhile, I too will amuse myself."
+
+"Ay! but observe this special difference--what is fun to _you_ may be
+death to _her_, for she _has_ a heart, and a fine, and true, and deep
+one; may be death to yourself--for you, too, are honorable, and true,
+and noble; and that is why I love you, George, and why I speak to you
+thus, at the risk of being held meddlesome or impertinent."
+
+"Oh, never, never!" exclaimed Delawarr, moving his horse closer up to
+him, and grasping his hand warmly, "never! You meddlesome or
+impertinent! Let me hear no man call you so. But I will think of this.
+On my honor, I will think of this that you have said!"
+
+And he did think of it. Thought of it often, deeply--and the more he
+thought, the more he loved Blanche Fitz-Henry.
+
+Days, weeks, and months rolled on, and still those two young cavaliers
+were constant visiters, sometimes alone, sometimes with other gallants
+in their company, at Ditton-in-the-Dale. And ever still, despite his
+companion's warning, Delawarr lingered by the fair heiress' side,
+until both were as deeply enamored as it is possible for two persons
+to be, both single-hearted, both endowed with powerful intellect, and
+powerful imagination; both of that strong and energetic temperament
+which renders all impressions permanent, all strong passions immortal.
+It was strange that there should have been two persons, and there were
+but two, who discovered nothing of what was passing--suspected nothing
+of the deep feelings which possessed the hearts of the young lovers;
+while all else marked the growth of liking into love, of love into
+that absolute and over-whelming idolatry, which but few souls can
+comprehend, and which to those few is the mightiest of blessings or
+the blackest of curses.
+
+And those two, as is oftentimes the case, were the very two whom it
+most concerned to perceive, and who imagined themselves the quickest
+and the clearest sighted--Allan Fitz-Henry, and the envious Agnes.
+
+But so true is it that the hope is oft parent to the thought, and the
+thought again to security and conviction, that, having in the first
+instance made up his mind that Lord St. George would be a most
+suitable successor to the name of the family, and secondly, that he
+was engaged in prosecuting his suit to the elder daughter, her father
+gave himself no further trouble in the matter, but suffered things to
+take their own course without interference.
+
+He saw, indeed, that in public the viscount was more frequently the
+companion of Agnes than of Blanche; that there seemed to be a better
+and more rapid intelligence between them; and that Blanche appeared
+better pleased with George Delawarr's than with the viscount's
+company.
+
+But, to a man blinded by his own wishes and prejudices, such evidences
+went as nothing. He set it down at once to the score of timidity on
+Blanche's part, and to the desire of avoiding unnecessary notoriety on
+St. George's; and saw nothing but what was perfectly natural and
+comprehensible, in the fact that the younger sister and the familiar
+friend should be the mutual confidents, perhaps the go-betweens, of
+the two acknowledged lovers.
+
+He was in high good-humor, therefore; and as he fancied himself on the
+high-road to the full fruition of his schemes, nothing could exceed
+his courtesy and kindness to the young cornet, whom he almost
+overpowered with those tokens of affection and regard which he did
+not choose to lavish on the peer, lest he should be thought to be
+courting his alliance.
+
+Agnes, in the meantime, was so busy in the prosecution of her assault
+on Lord St. George's heart, on which she began to believe that she had
+made some permanent impression, that she was perfectly contented with
+her own position, and was well-disposed to let other people enjoy
+themselves, provided they did not interfere with her proceedings. It
+is true that, at times, in the very spirit of coquetry, she would
+resume her flirtation with George Delawarr, for the double purpose of
+piquing the viscount, and playing with the cornet's affections, which,
+blinded by self-love, she still believed to be devoted to her pretty
+self.
+
+But Delawarr was so happy in himself, that, without any intention of
+playing with Agnes, or deceiving her, he joked and rattled with her
+as he would with a sister, and believing that she must understand
+their mutual situation, at times treated her with a sort of quiet
+fondness, as a man naturally does the sister of his betrothed or his
+bride, which effectually completed her hallucination.
+
+The consequence of all this was, that, while they were unintentionally
+deceiving others, they were fatally deceiving themselves likewise; and
+of this, it is probable that no one was aware, with the exception of
+St. George, who, seeing that his warnings were neglected, did not
+choose to meddle further in the matter, although keeping himself ready
+to aid the lovers to the utmost of his ability by any means that
+should offer.
+
+In the innocence of their hearts, and the purity of their young love,
+they fancied that what was so clear to themselves, must be apparent to
+the eyes of others; and they flattered themselves that the lady's
+father not only saw, but approved their affection, and that, when the
+fitting time should arrive, there would be no obstacle to the
+accomplishment of their happiness.
+
+It is true that Blanche spoke not of her love to her sister, for,
+apart from the aversion which a refined and delicate girl must ever
+feel to touching on that subject, unless the secret be teased or
+coaxed out of her by some near and affectionate friend, there had
+grown up a sort of distance, not coldness, nor dislike, nor distrust,
+but simply distance, and lack of communication between the sisters
+since the night of the birth-day ball. Still Blanche doubted not that
+her sister saw and knew all that was passing in her mind, in the same
+manner as she read her heart; and it was to her evident liking for
+Lord St. George, and the engrossing claim of her own affections on all
+her thoughts, and all her time, that she attributed her carelessness
+of herself.
+
+Deeply, however, did she err, and cruelly was she destined to be
+undeceived.
+
+The early days of autumn had arrived, and the woods had donned their
+many-colored garments, when on a calm, sweet evening--one of those
+quiet and delicious evenings peculiar to that season--Blanche and
+George Delawarr had wandered away from the gay concourse which filled
+the gardens, and unseen, as they believed, and unsuspected, had turned
+into the old labyrinth where first they had begun to love, and were
+wrapped in soft dreams of the near approach of more perfect happiness.
+
+But a quick, hard eye was upon them--the eye of Agnes; for, by chance,
+Lord St. George was absent, having been summoned to attend the king at
+Windsor; and being left to herself, her busy mind, too busy to rest
+for a moment idle, plunged into mischief and malevolence.
+
+No sooner did she see them turn aside from the broad walk than the
+cloud was withdrawn, as if by magic, from her eyes; and she saw almost
+intuitively all that had previously escaped her.
+
+Not a second did she lose, but stealing after the unsuspecting pair
+with a noiseless and treacherous step, she followed them, foot by
+foot, through the mazes of the clipped hornbeam labyrinth, divided
+from them only by the verdant screen, listening to every
+half-breathed word of love, and drinking in with greedy ears every
+passionate sigh.
+
+Delawarr's left arm was around Blanche's slender waist, and her right
+hand rested on his shoulder; the fingers of their other hands were
+entwined lovingly together, as they wandered onward, wrapped each in
+the other, unconscious of wrong on their own part, and unsuspicious of
+injury from any other.
+
+Meanwhile, with rage in her eyes, with hell in her heart, Agnes
+followed and listened.
+
+So deadly was her hatred, at that moment, of her sister, so fierce and
+overmastering her rage, that it was only by the utmost exertion of
+self-control that she could refrain from rushing forward and loading
+them with reproaches, with contumely, and with scorn.
+
+But biting her lips till the blood sprang beneath her pearly teeth,
+and clinching her hands so hard that the nails wounded their tender
+palms, she did refrain, did subdue the swelling fury of her rebellious
+heart, and awaited the hour of more deadly vengeance.
+
+Vengeance for what? She had not loved George Delawarr--nay, she had
+scorned him! Blanche had not robbed her of her lover--nay, in her own
+thoughts, she had carried off the admirer, perhaps the future lover,
+from the heiress.
+
+She was the wronger, not the wronged! Then wherefore vengeance?
+
+Even, _therefore_, reader, because she had wronged her, and knew it;
+because her own conscience smote her, and she would fain avenge on the
+innocent cause, the pangs which at times rent her own bosom.
+
+Envious and bitter, she could not endure that Blanche should be loved,
+as she felt she was not loved herself, purely, devotedly, forever, and
+for herself alone.
+
+Ambitious, and insatiate of admiration, she could not endure that
+George Delawarr, once her captive, whom she still thought her slave,
+should shake off his allegiance to herself, much less that he should
+dare to love her sister.
+
+Even while she listened, she suddenly heard Blanche reply to some
+words of her lover, which had escaped her watchful ears.
+
+"Never fear, dearest George; I am sure that he has seen and knows
+all--he is the kindest and the best of fathers. I will tell him all
+to-morrow, and will have good news for you when you come to see me in
+the evening."
+
+"Never!" exclaimed the fury, stamping upon the ground violently--"by
+all my hopes of heaven, never!"
+
+And with the words she darted away in the direction of the hall as
+fast as her feet could carry her over the level greensward; rage
+seeming literally to lend her wings, so rapidly did her fiery passions
+spur her on the road to impotent revenge.
+
+Ten minutes afterward, with his face inflamed with fury, his periwig
+awry, his dress disordered by the haste with which he had come up,
+Allan Fitz-Henry broke upon the unsuspecting lovers.
+
+Snatching his daughter rudely from the young man's half embrace, he
+broke out into a torrent of terrible and furious invective, far more
+disgraceful to him who used it, than to those on whom it was vented.
+
+There was no check to his violence, no moderation on his tongue.
+Traitor, and knave, and low-born beggar, were the mildest epithets
+which he applied to the high-bred and gallant soldier; while on his
+sweet and shrinking child he heaped terms the most opprobrious, the
+most unworthy of himself, whether as a father or as a man.
+
+The blood rushed crimson to the brow of George Delawarr, and his hand
+fell, as if by instinct, upon the hilt of his rapier; but the next
+moment he withdrew it, and was cool by a mighty effort.
+
+"From you, sir, any thing! You will be sorry for this to-morrow!"
+
+"Never, sir! never! Get you gone! base domestic traitor! Get you gone,
+lest I call my servants, and bid them spurn you from my premises!"
+
+"I go, sir--" he began calmly; but at this moment St. George came upon
+the scene, having just returned from Windsor, eager, but, alas! too
+late, to anticipate the shameful scene--and to him did George Delawarr
+turn with unutterable anguish in his eyes. "Bid my men bring my horses
+after me, St. George," said he, firmly, but mournfully; "for me, this
+is no place any longer. Farewell, sir! you will repent of this. Adieu,
+Blanche, we shall meet again, sweet one."
+
+"Never! dog, never! or with my own hands--"
+
+"Hush! hush! for shame. Peace, Mister Fitz-Henry, these words are not
+such as may pass between gentlemen. Go, George, for God's sake! Go,
+and prevent worse scandal," cried the viscount.
+
+And miserable beyond all comprehension, his dream of bliss thus
+cruelly cut short, the young man went his way, leaving his mistress
+hanging in a deep swoon, happy to be for a while unconscious of her
+misery, upon her father's arm.
+
+Three days had passed--three dark, dismal, hopeless days. Delawarr did
+his duty with his regiment, nay, did it well--but he was utterly
+unconscious, his mind was afar off, as of a man walking in a dream.
+Late on the third night a small note was put into his hands, blistered
+and soiled with tears. A wan smile crossed his face, he ordered his
+horses at daybreak, drained a deep draught of wine, sauntered away to
+his own chamber, stopping at every two or three paces in deep
+meditation; threw himself on his bed, for the first time in his life
+without praying, and slept, or seemed to sleep, till daybreak.
+
+Three days had passed--three dark, dismal, hopeless days! Blanche was
+half dead--for she now despaired. All methods had been tried with the
+fierce and prejudiced old man, secretly prompted by that
+demon-girl--and all tried in vain. Poor Blanche had implored him to
+suffer her to resign her birthright in favor of her sister, who would
+wed to suit his wishes, but in vain. The generous St. George had
+offered to purchase for his friend, as speedily as possible, every
+step to the very highest in the service; nay, he had obtained from the
+easy monarch a promise to raise him to the peerage, but in vain.
+
+And Blanche despaired; and St. George left the Hall in sorrow and
+disgust that he could effect nothing.
+
+That evening Blanche's maid, a true and honest girl, delivered to her
+mistress a small note, brought by a peasant lad; and within an hour
+the boy went thence, the bearer of a billet, blistered and wet with
+tears.
+
+And Blanche crept away unheeded to her chamber, and threw herself upon
+her knees, and prayed fervently and long; and casting herself upon her
+painful bed, at last wept herself to sleep.
+
+The morning dawned, merry and clear, and lightsome; and all the face
+of nature smiled gladly in the merry sunbeams.
+
+At the first peep of dawn Blanche started from her restless slumbers,
+dressed herself hastily, and creeping down the stairs with a cautious
+step, unbarred a postern door, darted out into the free air, without
+casting a glance behind her, and fled, with all the speed of mingled
+love and terror, down the green avenue toward the gay pavilion--scene
+of so many happy hours.
+
+But again she was watched by an envious eye, and followed by a jealous
+foot.
+
+For scarce ten minutes had elapsed from the time when she issued from
+the postern, before Agnes appeared on the threshold, with her dark
+face livid and convulsed with passion; and after pausing a moment, as
+if in hesitation, followed rapidly in the footsteps of her sister.
+
+When Blanche reached the summer-house, it was closed and untenanted;
+but scarcely had she entered and cast open the blinds of one window
+toward the road, before a hard horse-tramp was heard coming up at full
+gallop, and in an instant George Delawarr pulled up his panting
+charger in the lane, leaped to the ground, swung himself up into the
+branches of the great oak-tree, and climbing rapidly along its gnarled
+limbs, sprang down on the other side, rushed into the building, and
+cast himself at his mistress' feet.
+
+Agnes was entering the far end of the elm-tree walk as he sprang down
+into the little coplanade, but he was too dreadfully preoccupied with
+hope and anguish, and almost despair, to observe any thing around him.
+
+But she saw him, and fearful that she should be too late to arrest
+what she supposed to be the lovers' flight, she ran like the wind.
+
+She neared the doorway--loud voices reached her ears, but whether in
+anger, or in supplication, or in sorrow, she could not distinguish.
+
+Then came a sound that rooted her to the ground on which her flying
+foot was planted, in mute terror.
+
+The round ringing report of a pistol-shot! and ere its echo had begun
+to die away, another!
+
+No shriek, no wail, no word succeeded--all was as silent as the grave.
+
+Then terror gave her courage, and she rushed madly forward a few
+steps, then stood on the threshold horror-stricken.
+
+Both those young souls, but a few days before so happy, so beloved,
+and so loving, had taken their flight--whither?
+
+Both lay there dead, as they had fallen, but unconvulsed, and graceful
+even in death. Neither had groaned or struggled, but as they had
+fallen, so they lay, a few feet asunder--her heart and his brain
+pierced by the deadly bullets, sped with the accuracy of his
+never-erring aim.
+
+While she stood gazing, in the very stupor of dread, scarce conscious
+yet of what had fallen out, a deep voice smote her ear.
+
+"Base, base girl, this is all your doing!" Then, as if wakening from a
+trance, she uttered a long, piercing shriek, darted into the pavilion
+between the gory corpses, and flung herself headlong out of the open
+window into the pool beneath.
+
+But she was not fated so to die. A strong hand dragged her out--the
+hand of St. George, who, learning that his friend had ridden forth
+toward Ditton, had followed him, and arrived too late by scarce a
+minute.
+
+From that day forth Agnes Fitz-Henry was a dull, melancholy maniac.
+Never one gleam of momentary light dispersed the shadows of her insane
+horror--never one smile crossed her lip, one pleasant thought relieved
+her life-long sorrow. Thus lived she; and when death at length came to
+restore her spirit's light, she died, and made no sign.
+
+Allan Fitz-Henry _lived_--a moody misanthropic man, shunning all men,
+and shunned of all. In truth, the saddest and most wretched of the
+sons of men.
+
+How that catastrophe fell out none ever knew, and it were useless to
+conjecture.
+
+They were beautiful, they were young, they were happy. The evil days
+arrived--and they were wretched, and lacked strength to bear their
+wretchedness. They are gone where ONE alone must judge them--may HE
+have pity on their weakness. REQUIESCANT!
+
+
+
+
+THE LOST PLEIAD.
+
+BY HENRY B. HIRST.
+
+
+    Beautiful sisters! tell me, do you ever
+      Dream of the loved and lost one, she who fell
+    And faded, in love's turbid, crimson river--
+              The sacred secret tell?
+    Calmly the purple heavens reposed around her,
+      And, chanting harmonies, she danced along;
+    Ere Eros in his silken meshes bound her,
+              Her being passed in song.
+
+    Once on a day she lay in dreamy slumber;
+      Beside her slept her golden-tongued lyre;
+    And radiant visions--fancies without number--
+              Filled breast and brain with fire.
+    She dreamed; and, in her dreams, saw, bending o'er her,
+      A form her fervid fancy deified;
+    And, waking, viewed the noble one before her,
+              Who wooed her as his bride.
+
+    What words--what passionate words he breathed, beseeching,
+      Have long been lost in the descending years:
+    Nevertheless she listened to his teaching,
+              Smiling between her tears.
+    And ever since that hour the happy maiden
+      Wanders unknown of any one but Jove;
+    Regretting not the lost Olympian Aidenn
+              In the Elysium--Love!
+
+
+
+
+SUNSET AFTER RAIN.
+
+BY ALFRED B. STREET.
+
+
+    All day, with humming and continuous sound,
+    Streaking the landscape, has the slant rain fall'n;
+    But now the mist is vanishing; in the west
+    The dull gray sheet, that shrouded from the sight
+    The sky, is rent in fragments, and rich streaks
+    Of tenderest blue are smiling through the clefts.
+    A dart of sunshine strikes upon the hills,
+    Then melts. The great clouds whiten, and roll off,
+    Until a steady blaze of golden light
+    Kindles the dripping scene. Within the east,
+    The delicate rainbow suddenly breaks out;
+    Soft air-breaths flutter round; each tree shakes down
+    A shower of glittering drops; the woodlands burst
+    Into a chorus of glad harmony;
+    And the rich landscape, full of loveliness,
+    Fades slowly, calmly, sweetly, into night.
+      Thus, sometimes, is the end of Human life.
+    In youth and manhood, sorrows may frown round;
+    But when the sun of Being lowly stoops,
+    The darkness breaks away--the tears are dried;
+    The Christian's hope--a rainbow--brightly glows,
+    And life glides sweet and tranquil to the tomb.
+
+
+
+
+MONTEZUMA MOGGS.
+
+THAT WAS TO BE.
+
+
+BY THE LATE JOSEPH C. NEAL.
+
+
+"Now, Moggs--you Moggs--good Moggs--dear Moggs," said his wife,
+running through the chromatic scale of matrimonial address, and
+modulating her words and her tones from irritation into
+tenderness--"yes, Moggs--that's a good soul--I do wish for once you
+would try to be a little useful to your family. Stay at home to-day,
+Moggs, can't you, while I do the washing? It would be so pleasant,
+Moggs--so like old times, to hear you whistling at your work, while I
+am busy at mine."
+
+And a smile of affection stole across the countenance of Mrs. Moggs,
+like a stray sunbeam on a cloudy day, breaking up the sharp and fixed
+lines of care into which her features had settled as a habitual
+expression, and causing her also to look as she did in the "old
+times," to which she now so kindly referred.
+
+"Wont you, Moggs?" added she, laying her hand upon his shoulder, "it
+would be so pleasant, dear--wouldn't it? I should not mind hard work,
+Moggs, if you were at work near me."
+
+There was a tear, perhaps, twinkling in the eye of the wife, giving
+gentleness to the hard, stony look which she in general wore, caused
+by those unceasing troubles of her existence that leave no time for
+weeping. Perpetual struggle hardens the heart and dries up the source
+of tears.
+
+"Wont you, Moggs?"
+
+The idea of combined effort was a pleasant family picture to Mrs.
+Moggs, though it did involve not a little of toil. Still, to her
+loneliness it was a pleasant picture, accustomed as she had been to
+strive alone, and continually, to support existence. But it seems that
+perceptions of the pleasant and of the picturesque in such matters,
+differ essentially; and Moggs, glancing through the sentimental, and
+beyond it, felt determined, as he always did, to avoid the trouble
+which it threatened.
+
+"Can't be," responded Moggs, slightly shrugging his shoulder, as a
+hint to his wife that the weight of her hand was oppressive. "Can't
+be," continued he, as he set himself industriously--for in this Moggs
+was industrious--to the consumption of the best part of the breakfast
+that was before him--a breakfast that had been, as usual, provided by
+his wife, and prepared by her, while Montezuma Moggs was fast
+asleep--an amusement to which, next to eating, Montezuma Moggs was
+greatly addicted when at home, as demanding the least possible effort
+and exertion on his part. Montezuma Moggs, you see, was in some
+respects not a little of an economist; and, as a rule, never made his
+appearance in the morning until firmly assured that breakfast was
+quite ready--"'most ready," was too indefinite and vague for Montezuma
+Moggs--he had been too often tricked from comfort in that way
+before--people will so impose on one in this respect--envious people,
+who covet your slumbers--such as those who drag the covering off, or
+sprinkle water on the unguarded physiognomy. But Moggs took care, in
+the excess of his caution, that no time should be lost by him in a
+tedious interval of hungry expectation.
+
+"Say ready--quite ready--and I'll come," muttered he, in that sleepy
+debate between bed and breakfast which often consumes so much of time;
+and his eyes remained shut and his mouth open until perfectly assured
+that all the preliminary arrangements had been completed. "Because,"
+as Moggs wisely observed, "that half hour before breakfast, reflecting
+on sausages and speculating on coffee, if there is sausages and
+coffee, frets a man dreadful, and does him more harm than all the rest
+of the day put together."--Sagacious Moggs!
+
+Besides, Moggs has a great respect for himself--much more, probably,
+than he has for other people, being the respecter of a person, rather
+than of persons, and that person being himself. Moggs, therefore,
+disdains the kindling of fires, splitting wood, and all that,
+especially of frosty mornings--and eschews the putting on of
+kettles--well knowing that if an individual is in the way when the aid
+of an individual is required, there is likely to be a requisition on
+the individual's services. Montezuma Moggs understood how to "skulk;"
+and we all comprehend the fact that to "skulk" judiciously is a fine
+political feature, saving much of wear and tear to the body corporate.
+
+"Mend boots--mind shop--tend baby!--can't be," repeated Moggs,
+draining the last drop from his cup--"boots, shops and babies must
+mend, mind and tend themselves--I'm going to do something better than
+that;" and so Moggs rose leisurely, took his hat, and departed, to
+stroll the streets, to talk at the corners, and to read the
+bulletin-boards at the newspaper offices, which, as Moggs often
+remarks, not only encourages literature, but is also one of the
+cheapest of all amusements--vastly more agreeable than if you paid for
+it.
+
+It was a little shop, in one of the poorer sections of the city, where
+Montezuma Moggs resided with his family--Mrs. Moggs and five juveniles
+of that name and race--a shop of the miscellaneous order, in which was
+offered for sale a little, but a very little, of any thing, and every
+thing--one of those distressed looking shops which bring a sensation
+of dreariness over the mind, and which cause a sinking of the heart
+before you have time to ask why you are saddened--a frail and feeble
+barrier it seems against penury and famine, to yield at the first
+approach of the gaunt enemy--a shop that has no aspect of business
+about it, but compels you to think of distraining for rent, of broken
+hearts, of sickness, suffering and death.
+
+It was a shop, moreover--we have all seen the like--with a bell to it,
+which rings out an announcement as we open the door, that, few and far
+between, there has been an arrival in the way of a customer, though it
+may be, as sometimes happens, that the bell, with all its untuned
+sharpness, fails to triumph over the din of domestic affairs in the
+little back-room, which serves for parlor, and kitchen, and hall, and
+proves unavailing to spread the news against the turbulent clamor of
+noisy children and a vociferous wife.
+
+But be patient to the last--even if the bell does prove insufficient
+to attract due attention to your majestic presence, whether you come
+to make purchases or to avail yourself of the additional proffer made
+by the sign appertaining to Moggs exclusively, relative to "Boots and
+shoes mended," collateral to which you observe a work-bench in the
+corner; still, be patient, and cause the energies of your heel to hold
+"wooden discourse" with the sanded floor, as emphatically you cry--
+
+"Shop!" and beat with pennies on the counter.
+
+Be patient; for, look ye, Mrs. Moggs will soon appear, with a flushed
+countenance and a soiled garb--her youngest hope, if a young Moggs is
+to be called a hope, sobbing loudly on its mother's shoulder, while
+the unawed pratlers within, carry on the war with increasing violence.
+
+"Shop!"
+
+"Comin'!--what's wanten?" is the sharp and somewhat discourteous
+reply, as Mrs. Moggs gives a shake of admonition to her peevish little
+charge, and turns half back to the riotous assemblage in the rear.
+
+Now, we ask it of you as a special favor, that you do not suffer any
+shadow of offence to arise at the dash of acerbity that may manifest
+itself in the tones of Mrs. Montezuma Moggs. According to our notion
+of the world, as it goes, she, and such as she, deserve rather to be
+honored than to provoke wrath by the defects of an unpolished and
+unguarded manner. She has her troubles, poor woman--gnawing cares, to
+which, in all likelihood, yours are but as the gossamer upon the wind,
+or as the thistle-down floating upon the summer breeze; and if there
+be cash in your pocket, do not, after having caused such a turmoil,
+content yourself with simply asking where Jones resides, or Jenkins
+lives. It would be cruel--indeed it would. True, Mrs. Moggs expects
+little else from one of your dashing style and elegant appearance.
+Such a call rarely comes to her but with some profitless query; yet
+look around at the sparse candies, the withering apples, and the
+forlorn groceries--specimens of which are affixed to the window-panes
+in triangular patches of paste and paper--speak they not of poverty?
+Purchase, then, if it be but a trifle.
+
+Mrs. Moggs, unluckily for herself, is possessed of a husband.
+Husbands, they say, are often regarded as desirable; and some of them
+are spoken of as if they were a blessing. But if the opinion of Mrs.
+Moggs were obtained on that score, it would probably be somewhat
+different; for be it known that the husband of Mrs. Moggs is of the
+kind that is neither useful nor ornamental. He belongs to that
+division which addicts itself mainly to laziness--a species of the
+biped called husband, which unfortunately is not so rare that we seek
+for the specimen only in museums. We know not whether Montezuma Moggs
+was or was not born lazy; nor shall we undertake to decide that
+laziness is an inherent quality; but as Mrs. Moggs was herself a
+thrifty, painstaking woman, as women, to their credit be it spoken,
+are apt to be, her lazy husband, as lazy husbands will, in all such
+cases, continued to grow and to increase in laziness, shifting every
+care from his own broad shoulders to any other shoulders, whether
+broad or narrow, strong or wreak, that had no craven shrinkings from
+the load, Moggs contenting himself in an indolence which must be seen
+to be appreciated by those--husbands or wives--who perform their tasks
+in this great work-shop of human effort with becoming zeal and with
+conscientious assiduity, regarding laziness as a sin against the great
+purposes of their being. If this assumption be true, as we suspect it
+is, Montezuma Moggs has much to answer for; though it is a common
+occurrence, this falling back into imbecility, if there be any one at
+hand willing to ply the oar, as too often shown in the fact that the
+children of the industrious are willing to let their parents work,
+while the energetic wife has a drag upon her in the shape of a
+lounging husband.
+
+Yes, Mrs. Moggs belongs to the numerous class of women who have what
+is well called "a trying time of it." You may recognize them in the
+street, by their look of premature age--anxious, hollow-eyed, and worn
+to shadows. There is a whole history in every line of their faces,
+which tells of unceasing trouble, and their hard, quick movement as
+they press onward regardless of all that begirts the way, indicates
+those who have no thought to spare from their own immediate
+necessities, for comment upon the gay and flaunting world. Little does
+ostentation know, as it flashes by in satined arrogance and jeweled
+pride, of the sorrow it may jostle from its path; and perhaps it is
+happy for us as we move along in smiles and pleasantness, not to
+comprehend that the glance which meets our own comes from the
+bleakness of a withered heart--withered by penury's unceasing
+presence.
+
+Moggs is in fault--ay, Montezuma Moggs--what, he "mend boots, mind
+shop, tend baby," bringing down his lofty aspirations for the future
+to be cabined within the miserable confines of the present!
+
+"Hard work?" sneers Moggs--"yes, if a man sets himself down to hard
+work, there he may set--nothing else but hard work will ever come to
+him--but if he wont do hard work, then something easier will be sure to
+come toddlin' along sooner or later. What can ever find you but hard
+work if you are forever in the shop, a thumpin' and a hammerin'? Good
+luck never ventures near lap-stones and straps. I never saw any of it
+there in the whole course of my life; and I'm waitin' for good luck,
+so as to be ready to catch it when it comes by."
+
+Montezuma Moggs had a turn for politics; and for many a year he
+exhibited great activity in that respect, believing confidently that
+good luck to himself might grow from town-meetings and elections; and
+you may have observed him on the platform when oratory addressed the
+"masses," or on the election ground with a placard to his button, and
+a whole handfull of tickets. But his luck did not seem to wear that
+shape; and politically, Montezuma Moggs at last took his place in the
+"innumerable caravan" of the disappointed. And thus, in turn, has he
+courted fortune in all her phases, without a smile of recognition from
+the blinded goddess. The world never knows its noblest sons; and
+Montezuma Moggs was left to sorrow and despair.
+
+Could he have been honored with a lofty commission, Montezuma Moggs
+might have set forth to a revel in the halls of his namesake; but as
+one of the rank and file, he could not think of it. And in private
+conversation with his sneering friend Quiggens, to whose captiousness
+and criticism Moggs submitted, on the score of the cigars occasionally
+derivable from that source, he ventured the subjoined remarks relative
+to his military dispositions:
+
+"What I want," said Moggs, "is a large amount of glory, and a bigger
+share of pay--a man like me ought to have plenty of both--glory, to
+swagger about with, while the people run into the street to stare at
+Moggs, all whiskers and glory--and plenty of pay, to make the glory
+shine, and to set it off. I wouldn't mind, besides, if I did have a
+nice little wound or two, if they've got any that don't hurt much, so
+that I might have my arm in a sling, or a black patch on my
+countenance. But if I was only one of the rank and file, I'm very much
+afraid I might have considerable more of knocks that would hurt a
+great deal, than I should of either the pay or the glory--that's what
+troubles me in the milentary way. But make me a gineral, and then,
+I'll talk to you about the matter--make me a gineral ossifer, with the
+commission, and the feathers, and the cocked-hat--plenty of pay, and a
+large slice of rations--there's nothing like rations--and then I'll
+talk to you like a book. Then I'll pledge you my lives, and my
+fortunes, and my sacred honors--all of 'em--that I will furnish the
+genus whenever it is wanted--genus in great big gloves, monstrous long
+boots, and astride of a hoss that scatters the little boys like
+Boston, whenever I touch the critter with my long spurs, to astonish
+the ladies. Oh, get out!--do you think I couldn't play gineral and
+look black as thunder, for such pay as ginerals get? I'd do it for
+half the money, and I'd not only do it cheaper, but considerable
+better than you ever see it done the best Fourth of July you ever met
+with. At present, I know I've not much rations, and no money at
+all--money's skurse--but as for genus--look at my eye--isn't genus
+there?--observation my nose--isn't it a Boneyparte?--aint I sevagerous
+about the mouth?--I tell you, Quiggens, there's whole lots of a hero
+in this little gentleman. I've so much genus that I can't work. When a
+man's genus is a workin' in his upper story, and mine always is, then
+his hands has to be idle, so's not to interrupt his genus."
+
+"Yes," responded Quiggens, who is rather of the satirical turn, as one
+is likely to be who has driven the "Black Maria," and has thus found
+out that the world is all a fleeting show; "yes, you've got so much
+genus in your upper story that it has made a hole in the crown of your
+hat, so it can see what sort of weather is going on out of doors--and
+it's your genus, I reckon, that's peeping out of your elbows. Why
+don't you ask your genus to patch your knees, and to mend the holes in
+your boots?"
+
+"Quiggens, go 'way, Quiggens--you're of the common natur', Quiggens--a
+vulgar fraction, Quiggens; and you can't understand an indiwidooal who
+has a mind inside of his hat, and a whole soul packed away under his
+jacket. You'll never rise, a flutterin' and a ringin' like a
+bald-headed eagle--men like you have got no wings, and can only go
+about nibblin' the grass, while we fly up and peck cherries from the
+trees. I'm always thinkin' on what I'm going to be, and a preparin'
+myself for what natur' intended, though I don't know exactly what it
+is yet. But I don't believe that sich a man as Montezuma Moggs was
+brought into the world only to put patches on shoes and to heel-tap
+people's boots. No, Quiggens--no--it can't be, Quiggens. But you don't
+understand, and I'll have to talk to my genus. It's the only friend I
+have."
+
+"Why don't you ask your genus to lend you a fip then, or see whether
+it's got any cigars to give away," replied Quiggs contemptuously, as
+he walked up the street, while Moggs, in offended majesty, stalked
+sulkily off in another direction.
+
+"I would go somewheres, if I only knew where to go to," soliloquized
+Moggs, as he strolled slowly along the deserted streets; "but when
+there's nowheres to go to, then I suppose a person must go
+home--specially of cold nights like this, when the thermometer is down
+as far as Nero, and acts cruel on the countenance. It's always colder,
+too, when there's nobody about but yourself--you get your own share
+and every body else's besides; and it's lucky if you're not friz. Why
+don't they have gloves for people's noses? I ought to have a
+carriage--yes, and horses--ay, and a colored gemman to drive 'em, to
+say nothing of a big house warmed all over, with curtains to the
+windows. And why haven't I? Isn't Montezuma Moggs as good as
+anybody--isn't he as big--as full of genus? It's cold now, a footin'
+it round. But I'll wait--perhaps there's a good time comin',
+boys--there must be a good time, for there isn't any sort of times in
+the place where they keep time, which can be worse times than these
+times. But here's home--here's where you must go when you don't know
+what to do with yourself. Whenever a man tells you he has nowheres to
+go to, or says he's goin' nowheres, that man's a crawlin' home,
+because he can't help it. Well, well--there's nothin' else to be did,
+and so somebody must turn out and let me in home."
+
+It appeared, however, that Montezuma Moggs erred in part in this
+calculation. It is true enough that he knocked and knocked for
+admission at the door of his domicile; but the muscular effort thus
+employed seemed to serve no other purpose than that of exercise. Tired
+with the employment of his hands in this regard, Moggs resorted to his
+feet--then tried his knee, and anon his back, after the usual
+desperate variety of such appeal resorted to by the "great locked
+out," when they become a little savage or so at the delay to which
+they are subjected. Sometimes, also, he would rap fiercely, and then
+apply his eye to the key-hole, as if to watch for the effect of his
+rapping. "I don't see 'em," groaned he. And then again, his ear would
+be placed against the lock--"I don't hear 'em either." There were
+moments when he would frantically kick the door, and then rush as
+frantically to the middle of the street, to look at the windows; but
+no sign of animation from within peered forth to cheer him. After full
+an hour of toil and of hope deferred, Montezuma Moggs tossed his arms
+aloft in despair--let them fall listlessly at his side, and then sat
+down upon the curb-stone to weep, while the neighbors looked upon him
+from their respective windows; a benevolent few, not afraid of
+catching cold, coming down to him with their condolements. None,
+however, offered a resting place to the homeless, unsheltered and
+despairing Moggs.
+
+In the course of his musings and mournings, as he sat chattering with
+cold, a loosened paving-stone arrested his attention; and, with the
+instinct of genius, which catches comfort and assistance from means
+apparently the most trivial, and unpromising in their aspect, the
+paving-stone seemed to impart an idea to Montezuma Moggs, in this "his
+last and fearfulest extremity." Grappling this new weapon in both his
+hands, he raised it and poised it aloft.
+
+"I shall make a ten-strike now," exclaimed he, as he launched the
+missile at the door with herculean force, and himself remained in
+classic attitude watching the effect of the shot, as the door groaned,
+and creaked, and splintered under the unwonted infliction. Still,
+however, it did not give way before this application of force, though
+the prospect was encouraging. The observers laughed--Moggs
+chuckled--the dogs barked louder than before; and indeed it seemed all
+round as if a new light had been cast upon the subject.
+
+"Hongcore!" cried somebody.
+
+"I will," said Moggs, preparing to demonstrate accordingly.
+
+"Stop there," said the voice of Mrs. Montezuma Moggs, as she raised
+the window, "if you hongcore the door of this 'ere house again, I'll
+call the watch, to see what he thinks of such doings, I will. And now,
+once for all, you can't come in here to-night."
+
+"Can't, indeed!--why can't I?--not come into my own house! Do you
+call this a free country, on the gineral average, if such rebellions
+are to be tolerated?"
+
+"Your house, Mr. Moggs--yours?--who pays the rent, Moggs--who feeds
+you and the children, Moggs--who finds the fire and every thing else?
+Tell us that?"
+
+This was somewhat of the nature of a home-thrust, and Moggs, rather
+conscience-stricken, was dumb-founded and appalled. Moggs was very
+cold, and therefore, for the time being, deficient in his usual pride
+and self-esteem, leaving himself more pervious to the assault of
+reproach from without and within, than he would have been in a more
+genial state of the atmosphere. No man is courageous when he is
+thoroughly chilled; and it had become painfully evident that this was
+not a momentary riot, but an enduring revolution, through the
+intermedium of a civil war.
+
+"Ho, ho!" faintly responded Moggs, though once more preparing to carry
+the citadel by storm, "I'll settle this business in a twinkling."
+
+Splash!
+
+Any thing but cold water in quantity at a crisis like this. Who could
+endure a shower-bath under such ungenial circumstances? Not Priessnitz
+himself. It is not, then, to be wondered at that Montezuma Moggs now
+quailed, having nothing in him of the amphibious nature.
+
+"Water is cheap, Mr. Moggs; and you'd better take keer. There's
+several buckets yet up here of unkommon cold water, all of which is at
+your service without charge--wont ask you nothin', Moggs, for your
+washin'; and if you're feverish, may be it will do you good."
+
+Everybody laughed, as you know everybody will, at any other body's
+misfortune or disaster. Everybody laughed but Moggs, and he shivered.
+
+"I'll sattinly ketch my death," moaned he; "I'll be friz, standing
+straight up, like a big icicle; or if I fall over when I'm friz, the
+boys will slide on me as they go to school, and call it fun as they go
+whizzing over my countenance with nails in their shoes, scratching my
+physimohogany all to pieces. They tell me that being friz is an easy
+death--that you go to sleep and don't know nothing about it. I wish
+they'd get their wives to slouse 'em all over with a bucket of water,
+on sich a night as this, and then try whether it is easy. Call being
+friz hard an easy thing! I'd rather be biled any time. What shill I
+do--what shill I do?"
+
+"Perhaps they'll put you in an ice-house, and kiver you up with tan
+till summer comes--you'd be good for something then, which is more nor
+you are now," observed Mrs. Moggs from the window.
+
+"Quit twitting a man with his misfortunes," whined Montezuma, of the
+now broken-heart.
+
+"Why, my duck!"
+
+"Y-e-e-s--y-e-e-s! that's it--I am a duck, indeed! but by morning I'll
+be only a snow-ball--the boys will take my head for a snow-ball. What
+shill I do--I guvs up, and I guvs in."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you, Montezuma Moggs, what you must do to be thawed.
+Promise me faithfully only to work half as hard as I do, and you may
+come to the fire--the ten-plate stove is almost red-hot. Promise to
+mend boots, mind shop, and tend baby; them's the terms--that's the
+price of admission."
+
+Hard terms, certainly--the severest of terms--but then hard terms, and
+severe terms, are good terms, if no other terms are to be had. One
+must do the best he can in this world, if it be imperative upon him to
+do something, as it evidently was in Moggs' case.
+
+"I promise," shivered Moggs.
+
+"Promise what?"
+
+"T-t-to tend baby, m-m-mind shop, and m-m-mend boots;" and the
+vanquished Moggs sank down exhausted, proving, beyond the possibility
+of doubt, that cold water, when skillfully applied of a cold night, is
+the sovereignest thing on earth for the cure of "genus" in its lazier
+branches.
+
+It is but justice, however, to state, that Moggs kept his word
+faithfully, in which he contradicted the general expectation, which,
+with reason enough in the main, places but little reliance on
+promises; and he became, for him, quite an industrious person. His
+wife's buckets served as a continual remembrancer. But Mrs. Moggs
+never exulted over his defeat; and, though once compelled to
+harshness, continued to be to Montezuma a most excellent wife. The
+shop looks lively now--and the bell to the door is removed; for Moggs,
+with his rat-tat-tat, is ever at his post, doing admired execution on
+the dilapidated boots and shoes. The Moggses prosper, and all through
+the efficacy of a bucket of cold water. We should not wonder if, in
+the end, the Moggs family were to become rich, through the force of
+industry, and without recourse to "genus."
+
+"Politics and me has shuck hands forever," said the repentant Moggs.
+"I've been looking out and expecting loaves and fishes long enough.
+Loaves, indeed! Why I never got even a cracker, unless it was aside of
+the ear, when there was a row on the election ground; and as for
+fishes, why, if I'd stopped any longer for them to come swimming up to
+my mouth, all ready fried, with pepper on 'em, I wouldn't even have
+been decent food for fishes myself. I never got a nibble, let alone a
+bite; but somebody else always cotch'd the fish, and asked me to carry
+'em home for them. Fact is, if people wont wote for me, I wont wote
+for people. And as for the milentary line, I give up in a gineral way,
+all idea of being a gineral ossifer. Bonyparte is dead, and if my
+milentary genus was so great that I couldn't sleep for it, who'd hunt
+me up and put me at the head of affairs? No, if I'm wanted for any
+thing, they'll have to call me. I've dodged about winkin' and noddin'
+as long as the country had any right to expect, and now--rat-tat-tat--I'm
+going to work for myself."
+
+It was a wise conclusion on the part of Moggs, who may, perchance, in
+this way, be a "gineral" yet.
+
+
+
+
+THE BRIDE'S CONFESSION.
+
+BY ALICE G. LEE.
+
+
+    A sudden thrill passed through my heart,
+      Wild and intense--yet not of pain--
+    I strove to quell quick, bounding throbs,
+      And scanned the sentence o'er again.
+    It might have been full idly penned
+      By one whose thoughts from love were free,
+    And yet as if entranced I read
+      "Thou art most beautiful to me."
+
+    Thou didst not whisper I was loved--
+      There were no gleams of tenderness,
+    Save those my trembling heart _would_ hope
+      That careless sentence might express.
+    But while the blinding tears fell fast,
+      Until the words I scarce could see,
+    There shone, as through a wreathing mist,
+      "Thou art most beautiful to me."
+
+    To thee! I cared not for all eyes
+      So I was beautiful in thine!
+    A timid star, my faint, sad beams
+      Upon _thy_ path alone should shine.
+    Oh what was praise, save from thy lips--
+      And love should all unheeded be
+    So I could hear thy blessed voice
+      Say--"Thou art beautiful to me."
+
+    And I _have heard_ those very words--
+      Blushing beneath thine earnest gaze--
+    Though thou, perchance, hadst quite forgot
+      They had been said in by-gone days.
+    While clasped hand, and circling arm,
+      Drew me nearer still to thee--
+    Thy low voice breathed upon mine ear
+      "Thou, love, art beautiful to me."
+
+    And, dearest, though thine eyes alone
+      May see in me a single grace--
+    I care not so thou e'er canst find
+      A hidden sweetness in my face.
+    And if, as years and cares steal on,
+      Even that lingering light must flee,
+    What matter! if from thee I hear
+      "Thou art _still_ beautiful to me!"
+
+
+
+
+SONNET TO NIGHT.
+
+
+      Oh! look, my love, as over seas and lands
+    Comes shadowy Night, with dew, and peace, and rest;
+      How every flower clasps its folded hands
+    And fondly leans apon her faithful breast.
+      How still, how calm, is all around us now,
+    From the high stars to these pale buds beneath--
+      Calm, as the quiet on an infant's brow
+    Rocked to deep slumber in the lap of death.
+      Oh! hush--move not--it is a holy hour
+    And this soft nurse of nature, bending low,
+      Lists, like the sinless pair in Eden's bower,
+    For angels' pinions waving to and fro--
+    Oh, sacred Night! what mysteries are thine
+    Graven in stars upon thy page divine.
+                                          GRETTA.
+
+
+
+
+PAULINE DUMESNIL.
+
+OR A MARRIAGE DE CONVENANCE.
+
+BY ANGELE DE V. HULL.
+
+
+    The reason firm, the temperate will,
+    Endurance, foresight, strength and skill
+    A perfect woman, nobly planned.   WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+In a large but somewhat scantily furnished apartment sat two young
+girls, in such earnest and apparently serious conversation that, but
+for their youthful and blooming countenances, one might have fancied
+them bending beneath the cares and sorrows of age. On the dark old
+table between them rested a magnificent work-box, whose rich
+implements they had been busily and skillfully using; but now the
+scissors and thread lay at their feet, their needles were dropped, and
+the younger of the two sat with clasped hands, while her companion's
+low tones appeared to awaken every emotion of her heart.
+
+On the old-fashioned French bedstead were thrown dresses of various
+hues and expensive stuffs, while one only, a robe of the most delicate
+material, its graceful folds looped with orange flowers, seemed to
+attract the attention of the fair, fragile being, whose attitude was
+one of intense suffering. Her bright hopes had faded at sight of that
+colorless garb, and the bridal wreath was to wither on her brow! What
+to her sad soul were the costly things before her? The jewels that
+sparkled on their snow-white satin case, the long fairy veil of
+beautiful lace that lay side by side with the bridal dress?
+
+Her companion continued speaking, and she bowed her face upon those
+clasped hands, while her slight frame shook with its contending
+emotions. A few moments more and she raised her head. She was pale,
+and her large, dark eyes dilated into fearful size. At length the big
+drops came slowly down her cheek, and she was able to speak.
+
+"No more, Angela, no more! You love me, I know; but what you have done
+to day was no act of friendship. You have troubled the dark waters of
+my soul until they have become a torrent over which I have no
+control."
+
+"And it is because I love you, Pauline, that I have made your future
+life manifest to you. Do not seek to make a merit of obedience to your
+proud mother's will. It is because you have been taught to fear her,
+that you have consented to perjure yourself, and marry a man you
+cannot love."
+
+"For the love of heaven, spare me!" cried the girl, shrinking from her
+friend's words, "Is it to triumph over me that you thus seek to move
+me?"
+
+Her friend gazed mournfully upon her, and rising from her seat, gently
+put her arm around her.
+
+"My poor Pauline! my dear Pauline!" murmured she, "I have been
+cruel--forgive me."
+
+Her answer was a fervent embrace--and throwing their arms round one
+another, they wept in silence.
+
+At this moment the door opened, and a lady entered. She was tall and
+majestic, but there was an expression of pride and extreme hauteur on
+her countenance. She wore a handsome but faded dress, and the somewhat
+high-crowned cap bespoke a love of former fashions. She had a foreign
+air, and when she addressed her daughter, it was in French.
+
+"How is this!" cried she, angrily. "What scenes are these, Pauline? As
+often as I enter your room I find you in tears. Is it to your advice,
+Mademoiselle Percy, that my daughter owes her red eyes?"
+
+Angela was about to reply, but Pauline waved her back.
+
+"Is it, then, a crime to weep, mamma? If there were no tears, the
+heart would break."
+
+"It is a crime, Pauline, to resist the will of your mother, when she
+has provided for your happiness in a manner suitable to your rank and
+birth. It is a crime to break the fifth commandment, which tells you
+to honor and obey your mother."
+
+"And have I not done both," cried Pauline, indignantly. "Have you not
+sold my happiness? Have you not bartered perhaps my eternal welfare,
+that I might lay my aching head upon the downy pillows of the rich,
+that you might see me a wretched slave, writhing under chains not the
+less heavy because they are of gold?"
+
+"Have you been reading Racine this morning? Or have you been studying
+for the stage?" said Madame Dumesnil, in a cold, scornful tone. "You
+are a good actress, certainly."
+
+Pauline sank upon a chair, and her friend stood beside her, pressing
+her trembling hand. Her mother advanced and stood before her.
+
+"We will have no more of this, Pauline. If I feel satisfied that my
+duty is done, you should rejoice in obeying me. I alone am the judge
+in this matter--children should ever be contented with allowing their
+parents to act for them; and allow me to say, that any interference of
+strangers upon an occasion like this, is exceedingly misplaced."
+
+This was aimed at Angela Percy; but she only replied by a wondering
+and mournful gaze to the stern, cold woman before her. The old lady
+proceeded.
+
+"Bathe your eyes, Pauline, and arrange your hair. Monsieur de
+Vaissiere is below. Perhaps," added she, with a sneer, "perhaps that
+Miss Percy will assist you in entertaining your lover."
+
+Pauline started and shuddered, but by this time she had again yielded
+to her mother's influence. Going to the glass, she smoothed her dark
+hair, and endeavored to abate the swelling of her eyes. Bidding
+farewell to her friend, she descended to the parlor, where her
+affianced husband awaited her.
+
+He was tall, and his appearance _distingue_; but he, too, looked stern
+and cold as he rose to meet that young creature, whose nineteen
+summers were more than doubled by his years. He was handsome also; but
+where was the youthful ardor that should have been roused at the idea
+of winning that fair girl's love? Where were the sunny hopes to meet
+hers, the dreams of the future that _he_ wanted? His willingness to
+accept the sacrifice was no proof of his gentleness; and the cheek of
+his betrothed grew pale, and her hand was cold, as he led her to a
+seat.
+
+Pauline had been bred to the hard forcing-school of the _ancien
+regime_. Her mother had left France on the terrible death of her
+beloved queen, Marie Antoinette, and had passed from the high post of
+_dame d'honneur_, to poverty and exile in America. The sale of her
+magnificent jewels and massive silver, had enabled her to lease an old
+roomy mansion, deserted by its owners, and to live in peace and
+retirement. Here, with the recollection of the horrors of the
+revolution fresh within her memory, while her heart was still bleeding
+with the wounds it had received; while she still had before her the
+mangled remains of her sovereigns--the bleeding head of her husband,
+torn from her in the days of their early love; in the midst of these
+agonizing thoughts, she gave birth to a posthumous child--the heroine
+of our story. Clasping her babe to her breast, Madame Dumesnil
+bitterly recalled the many plans of happiness her murdered husband had
+made in anticipation of its coming--his affection for _her_--his
+anxiety for her safety--their parting, and the subsequent news of his
+execution. Those lips were mute whose words of tenderness were to
+soothe her in her hour of suffering; that hand was cold that would
+have rested on her brow; that heart was still that would have bounded
+with a father's love at sight of the tiny, helpless creature that lay
+upon her arm.
+
+Madame Dumesnil, the young, the lovely, and the gentle, became silent,
+reserved, and harsh. Nothing could swerve her from a determination
+made, and with feelings of the deepest parental affection for her
+daughter, she had crushed and broken her spirit in the sweet
+spring-time of her childhood.
+
+From the time Pauline was old enough to form a desire, she learned to
+hear it opposed. "_Une petite fille attend qu'on lui donne se qui lui
+faut_," was the invariable reply to all her childish longings.
+According to the old French system, every slight offence was followed
+by her mother's "_Allez vous coucher, mademoiselle_;" so that half her
+life was spent in bed, while she lay awake with the bright, broad
+daylight around her, the hour when other children are strengthening
+their little limbs in the active enjoyment of God's free, fresh air.
+
+As she grew older, she was taught that "_une demoiselle bien elevee
+n'a pas d'opinions_," that her parents judged and decided for her;
+and while she sat erect upon a high stool, accomplishing her daily
+tasks in silence, her heart nearly burst with the pent-up feelings of
+her young imagination. Wherever she went her mother's old
+waiting-woman was behind her. "Miss Pauline, hold yourself straight;
+Miss Pauline, turn out your feet--your head, mademoiselle--your arms!"
+Poor girl! she was well-nigh distracted with these incessant
+admonitions.
+
+In her walks she met Angela Percy and her father. They had lately
+settled in the neighborhood, and having no acquaintances, gladly made
+advances to the timid Pauline. Nothing daunted by her shyness and
+reserve, Angela, some years her senior, persevered, and overcame it.
+She was an enthusiastic, high-minded girl, and soon pointed out to her
+companion new views and new ideas of the world from which she had been
+excluded. The intimacy was formed ere Madame Dumesnil could prevent
+it, and at the instances of old Jeannette, who begged that
+Mademoiselle Pauline might have a friend of her own age--some one to
+talk to, besides two old women, she consented to allow the friendship
+to continue, provided Jeannette were present at every interview. This
+was easily promised, but the nurse's stiff limbs were no match for the
+agile supple ones of her young charges. Day by day she loitered
+behind, while Pauline and Angela, with their arms entwined, continued
+in eager and undisturbed enjoyment of one another's society. Jeannette
+remarked a glow upon her young lady's cheek, and a light in her
+eye--new charms in her hitherto pale, resigned countenance; and, wiser
+than her mistress, concluded that the acquisition of a youthful friend
+was fast pouring happiness into her lonely heart.
+
+Three years passed in this pleasant intercourse, when the monotony of
+their lives was broken by the arrival of an old friend of Madame
+Dumesnil--a Monsieur de Vaissiere. When they had last met, she was in
+the morning of her beauty and bliss, he a handsome youth, for whom
+many a fair one had sighed, and in vain--as he was still unmarried.
+What a change! He could not recognize the lovely young countess, whose
+marriage had been attended with so much eclat--so many rejoicings; nor
+could she see one vestige of the blooming countenance, the delicate
+profile, and the jet-black wavy locks that once shaded his fair, open
+brow. But these works of time were soon forgotten, and the desire of
+the proud, harsh mother was accomplished when, after a few weeks, M.
+de Vaissiere proposed for the hapless Pauline. Unconsciously, but with
+the thoughtlessness of selfishness, Madame Dumesnil sacrificed her
+child to her prejudices. M. de Vaissiere's opinions and _hers_ were
+the same; their admiration of _le vieux systeme_--their fond
+recollection of the unfortunate monarch, whose weakness they had never
+reproached him with, even in their secret souls--their abhorrence of
+Bonaparte--their contempt for _la noblesse Napoleonne_--their upturned
+noses at their adopted countrymen, _les Americains_--their want of
+faith in hearts and love--the sinecure-ism of young people--their
+presumption--their misfortune being that they _were_ young and not
+born old--and finally, the coincidence of opinions wherein both looked
+upon the white-headed suitor as a most eligible husband for the young,
+the blooming, the beautiful Pauline.
+
+M. de Vaissiere settled a _dot_ upon his _fiancee_, and ordered a
+_trousseau_ and a _corbeille_, not forgetting the _cachemire_. The
+preliminaries were arranged, the day hinted at, and Pauline was
+informed with a flourish of trumpets that her destiny was fixed.
+
+She listened to her mother's rhapsodies over the admirable _parti_
+Providence had enabled her to provide for her child in the wilderness
+of America; she heard her enlarge upon her own excellence as a parent,
+of the favor she had conferred upon her in bringing her into the
+world; of her consequent obligations, and the gratitude she owed her
+mother when she recollected that not content with giving her life, she
+had clothed, fed, and supported her until now. All this Pauline
+received in a silence that resembled stupor; but when M. de Vaissiere
+was again mentioned, she fell, with a scream of terror, at her
+mother's feet.
+
+In vain she wept and entreated; in vain she protested against the
+disparity of age, the utter want of congeniality, the absence of all
+affection, Madame Dumesnil was too much incensed to reply. With a
+gesture that Pauline well understood, (for it was used to express
+maledictions of every description,) she left the room, and locking the
+door, kept her daughter prisoner for the rest of the day.
+
+She treated this resistance to her will as one of the unhappy
+consequences of living in a republican country. She suspected Angela
+of communicating American ideas of independence to her daughter, and
+would have added to her wretchedness by forbidding further intercourse
+between the two friends. But Jeannette again interfered; she knew that
+Pauline's doom was sealed, and that it would be more than cruel to
+deprive her of the companion she loved. She herself carried the note
+that conveyed the intelligence of Pauline's coming fate to the
+indignant Angela, and extended her walks that her poor young lady
+might derive what consolation she could from her friend's willing
+sympathy. Many were the tears she shed, many the sighs that burst from
+her oppressed heart, as the poor old creature followed behind them.
+Once she had summoned courage sufficient to expostulate with her
+mistress upon the cruelty of her conduct to her daughter; but she was
+haughtily dismissed.
+
+Every effort had been made, and at length Angela appealed to Pauline.
+She entreated her to be more firm, and to declare her resolution never
+to marry where she could not love.
+
+"Rouse yourself, Pauline--the misery of a lifetime is before you, and
+it is not yet too late."
+
+"I have done every thing, Angela," said Pauline, despairingly. "My
+doom is sealed, and I must bend to my bitter fate. I would fly, but
+that I could not survive my mother's curse."
+
+"The curse of the unrighteous availeth naught," replied her friend,
+solemnly. "Were you wrongfully opposing your mother's will, mine
+would be the last voice to uphold you; but now your very soul is at
+stake."
+
+Pauline cast up her eyes in mute appeal to heaven. Her companion
+became excited as she proceeded, depicting the horrors of an unequal
+marriage. Pale and exhausted, her listener at length entreated her to
+forbear. She had been too long the slave of her mother's wishes to
+oppose them now; she had been drilled into fear until it was a
+weakness. This her bold-hearted, energetic friend could not
+understand; and it was on her reproaching Pauline with moral cowardice
+that she, for the first time, resented what had in fact been patiently
+borne.
+
+We have seen how kindly Angela forgave the accusation, and how she
+wept over the effect of her words. The sudden entrance of Madame
+Dumesnil put an end to the conversation, and the friends separated.
+
+The next morning Angela was at Pauline's side again. Silently she
+assisted in decorating the victim for the sacrifice. The bright jewels
+clasped her arm and neck; the long veil hung around her slender form;
+the orange wreath rested on the dark, dark tresses--and the dress was
+beautiful. But the bride! she was pale and ghastly, and her lips blue
+and quivering. Her eyes were void of all expression--those liquid,
+lustrous eyes; and ever and anon the large drops rolled over her face,
+oozing from the depths of her heart.
+
+Poor Jeannette turned away, sobbing convulsively as the finishing
+touches were given to this sad bridal toilette. Angela remained firm
+and collected, but she, too, was pale; her cherished companion was
+gone from her forever--gone in such misery, too, that she almost
+prayed to see her the corpse she at that moment resembled.
+
+Madame Dumesnil had remained below with the bridegroom and Mr. Percy,
+the sole witness to this ill-omened marriage. At length the hour came,
+Pauline was nearly carried down by Angela and Jeannette, and in a few
+moments bound forever to a man she loathed. The ceremony was ended,
+and the bride, with a convulsive sigh, fell back into the arms of her
+mother. Restoratives were procured, and at last she opened her eyes.
+They rested on the face of her friend, who hung over her in mute
+agony. Forcing a smile, which was taken by M. de Vaissiere for
+himself, Pauline arose, and hurried through her farewell. Her husband
+handed her into his carriage--and thus Pauline Dumesnil left her
+friends and her home.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+Years had passed, and Pauline sat alone in her magnificent boudoir,
+the presiding deity of one of the finest hotels in Paris. Fortune had
+favored M. de Vaissiere. He had lived to rejoice over the downfall of
+the mighty Napoleon, and his mournful exile. He had returned to his
+beloved France, recovered his vast estates, and presented his young
+wife at court. His vanity was flattered at her gracious reception, and
+the admiration that followed her; his pride was roused, and, much
+against her will, Pauline found herself the centre of a gay circle
+that crowded her vast saloons as often as they were thrown open for
+the reception of her now numerous acquaintances.
+
+It was on one of these evenings that Pauline sought the silence of her
+private apartment ere she gave herself up to her femme de chambre. Her
+loose _peignoir_ of white satin was gathered round her, with a crimson
+cord tied negligently at the waist, and hanging, with its rich tassels
+of silver mixed, to the ground. Her hair had fallen over her
+shoulders, giving her a look of sadness that increased her beauty. Her
+eyes wandered around the room, and her lips parted into a melancholy
+smile, as she contemplated its delicate silk hangings, its heavy,
+costly furniture, her magnificent toilette, crowded with perfumes of
+every description, beautiful flacons, silver combs, and jewels that
+sparkled in and out of their cases. Her thoughts went back to her
+mother, whose pride had made her a childless, lonely widow; to Angela,
+whom she had so loved; to the misery of the day upon which they
+parted, perhaps forever--and her eyes were filled with tears that,
+rolling at length over her cheek, startled her as they fell upon her
+hand.
+
+"And it was for this that I was sacrificed," murmured she, bending her
+head. "My poor mother! could you see me here, _you_ would feel that my
+happiness is secure; but, alas! how little you know of the human
+heart. This splendor lends weight to my chains, and makes me feel more
+desolate than ever! Night after night mingling in gay crowds,
+listening to honied words that fall unheeded on my ear; wearing smiles
+that come not from the heart, but help to break it; exposed to
+temptation, that makes me fear to mix with those of my own age; bound
+forever to a man whose only sentiment for me is one of pride--what
+part of happiness is mine?"
+
+A sudden step aroused her, and her husband entered unannounced. He
+looked but little older. Time had dealt lightly with _him_, and with
+the aid of cosmetics and a perfect toilette, M. de Vaissiere stood a
+remarkable looking man--for his age.
+
+"How is this, madame--not dressed yet! Have you no anxiety to see
+Mademoiselle Mars to night?"
+
+"I have, indeed," said Pauline, starting up and forcing a smile. "Is
+it so late, that I see you ready?"
+
+"You must hasten Marie, or we shall be too late. How provoking! What
+can you do with that dishevelled hair? You have a bad habit of
+thinking--that is actually sinful. Why do you not take my example; I
+never reflect--it makes one grow old!"
+
+She might have told him how her young life was embittered by the
+memory of days that were gone never to return; how she had grown old
+with thinking, and wore but the semblance of youth over a withered
+heart. But she had schooled herself to serenity with an effort almost
+superhuman--and seizing a silver bell at her side, she rang for her
+waiting woman.
+
+"You must hasten, Marie--Monsieur de Vaissiere is already dressed.
+Bind up this hair beneath some net-work, my good girl; I have no time
+for embellishing this evening."
+
+"Madame is more beautiful without her usual coiffure," said the girl,
+as she gathered up the dark tresses of her mistress. "I shall place
+her diamond _aigrette_ in her hair, and she will turn all heads."
+
+"I have no such ambition, my good Marie," said Pauline, laughing.
+"Give me my fan and gloves, and fasten this bracelet for me."
+
+"_Tenez, madame_," said Marie, handing them; and Pauline ran down
+stairs, where her husband awaited her. He had just been fretted
+sufficiently to find fault with her dress.
+
+"You never wear jewels enough. Do you think I bought them to ornament
+your boudoir?"
+
+"I did not like to keep you waiting, _mon ami_. Shall I return and
+tell Marie to give me my necklace?"
+
+"Yes, and your bracelet to match. Your white arm, madame, was made to
+ornament," added M. de Vaissiere, assuming an air of gallantry.
+
+Pauline smiled, and ran back to her boudoir. In a few moments she
+returned blazing with jewels, inwardly lamenting the display, but ever
+ready to grant her husband's wish. He, too, smiled as she came
+forward, and taking her hand, led her to her carriage.
+
+Shortly after they were seated, the door opened, and the young Vicomte
+de H---- entered the box. He placed himself behind Pauline, and
+remained there for the rest of the evening, in eager, animated
+conversation. He was not only one of the most agreeable men of the
+day, but added to wit and versatility of genius, a handsome face,
+graceful bearing, and a noble heart; and while Pauline yielded to the
+charms of so delightful a companion, full of the dreams and hopes of
+youth, uttering sentiments that years ago had been hers, her husband
+sat silent and moody beside her. A pang went through his heart as he
+gazed upon her bright countenance, and remembered her youth, whose
+sunshine was extinguished by her marriage with him. He looked at the
+smooth, full cheek of her companion, the purple gloss of his raven
+locks, the fire of his eye, and listening to his gay tones, his
+brilliant repartees, and enthusiastic expressions, pictured him with a
+shudder the husband of Pauline. What would have been her life compared
+to the one she led with him. How different would have been the bridal!
+He thought of her gentleness, her cheerful compliance with his wishes,
+her calm, subdued look, her lonely hours, the void that must be in her
+heart; and as all these things passed, for the first time, through his
+mind, he clasped his hands in despair.
+
+He turned once more to look upon the wife he was but now beginning to
+appreciate. She, too, had fallen in a revery. Her beautiful head was
+bent, her long, dark lashes sweeping her cheek; and around her lips
+played a smile so sweet, that though he know her thoughts were far
+away in some pleasant wandering, he was sure he had no part in them.
+
+For the first time since their wedded life, M. de Vaissiere was
+beginning to love his wife. He turned suddenly to look at the Vicomte
+de H----. He, too, was gazing upon Pauline with a look of intense
+admiration, but so full of pity and respect, that it made the jealous
+pang that thrilled through the husband's frame less bitter--and with a
+deep sigh he turned to the stage. The play was one that gave him a
+lesson for the rest of his days. It represented a young girl like his
+Pauline, forced to wed one, like him, old enough to be her father. For
+a while all went smoothly; the giddy wife was dazzled by her jewels
+and her importance. But time passed, and she was roughly treated, her
+every wish thwarted, and her very servants taught to disobey her. Her
+angelic behaviour had no effect upon her brutal husband; her patience
+exasperated him. Wickedly he exposed her to temptation; and as he
+watched her mingle with those of her own age, and share their plans
+and pleasures, suspicion entered his mind. He removed her far from her
+friends, and intercepted her letters, making himself master of their
+contents, until by a series of persecutions he drove her to fly from
+him, and perish in the attempt.
+
+Well for him was it that Monsieur de Vaissiere witnessed this play.
+How different might have been the effect of his newly awakened
+emotions, had they risen in the solitude of his apartment. The curtain
+fell, and Pauline looked up. Tears were standing in her eyes--for the
+fate of the heroine of the piece had affected her deeply, and her
+husband's sympathy was with her when he remarked them. He waited until
+he saw her give her arm to the vicomte, and walked behind them,
+another creature. He had determined to win his wife's love or die; to
+watch her, that he might warn her; to minister forever to her
+comforts.
+
+The vicomte returned with them, and soon the splendid salon was
+crowded with guests. Pauline passed from one to the other with
+graceful, winning smiles; and her husband's heart filled with pride
+and pleasure as he watched her, the object of admiration, glittering
+with diamonds, radiant with beauty, and remembered that she was his.
+Without a pang he saw the noble youth, whose coming had been to him
+salvation, lead her to supper, and seat himself at her side. He knew
+that she was pleased; he felt that she might have loved; but he knew,
+too, that she was as pure as an angel. How was it that suddenly her
+many virtues rose in array before him, and spoke to his heart?
+
+One evening Pauline stood at the window overlooking the garden that
+was behind the Hotel de Vaissiere. The moonlight was glancing over the
+tops of the orange trees, and the perfume of their white blossoms came
+floating up like an incense of thanks to the Great Author of all,
+while fountains played beneath their shade, falling musically on the
+heart of the lonely watcher.
+
+A shade was upon her brow--a shade of discontent; and busy were the
+thoughts that came creeping into her soul. She was judging her own
+heart--and bitterly did she reproach it as the image of another filled
+its space. Alas! she had feared this; and again she was roused into
+indignation as her mother's stern will was recalled to her--and she
+was carried back to the day whereon she had reproached her with
+hazarding the eternal welfare of her child. Throwing herself upon her
+knees, she prayed for strength--and her prayer was heard. Suddenly, as
+if struck with some impulse, she hurried from the window, through the
+hall, passed the long suite of apartments, and reached her husband's.
+Entering, she closed the door behind her, and rushed forward to M. de
+Vaissiere's chair with such passionate rapidity, that one might have
+thought she feared to fail in her resolution.
+
+Her sobs and tears had nearly deprived her of utterance, but falling
+at her husband's feet, she confessed the momentary infidelity of her
+hitherto love-less heart, and besought him to take her from those
+scenes of gayety and temptation to some distant, quiet region, that
+she might expiate her fault in solitude.
+
+Trembling she raised her eyes to his face. Instead of the fury, the
+reproaches she had expected, what was her surprise at seeing the tears
+coursing down his cheeks, to feel herself raised and clasped to his
+breast.
+
+"My poor child!" said he, tenderly--and it was the first time he had
+ever so addressed her--"my poor child! I should have foreseen this; I
+should have warned you ere now. It was your mother's fault to marry
+you to me, and mine to have placed temptation in your way. But how
+could I tear you from those whose years were suited to yours, to shut
+you up with an old greybeard! Thus, while I watched over you, my pride
+in your success made me forgetful of your safety. It is not yet too
+late, my Pauline--all will be for the best. In time you will learn to
+love your husband, and to know how devotedly he has loved you since
+his stupid eyes were opened to your virtues."
+
+With a smothered cry of joy Pauline threw herself upon his bosom. The
+poor stricken dove had at last found a shelter.
+
+The next day, while the whole world was lamenting and wondering over
+the determination of the beautiful, brilliant, and courted Pauline de
+Vaissiere, to leave the gay metropolis in the midst of its pleasure,
+she sat once more in her boudoir. A holy calm had settled on her brow,
+peace had entered her heart; and though a deep blush overspread her
+features as she heard her husband's step approaching, she rose to meet
+him with a grateful look. Putting his arm around her, he drew her
+closer to him, and pressed a kiss upon her forehead.
+
+"How many days of packing will you require, Pauline?" said he,
+smiling. "Poor Marie! she has nearly worn her arms out."
+
+"She will complete her task to-night; and if you like, we can be off
+in the morning. But have you the carriages ready, _mon ami_? Are we
+not before-hand with you?" asked Pauline, in the same cheerful strain.
+
+"We must summon Francois," said M. de Vaissiere, "and see if my orders
+have been executed."
+
+Francois had been as prompt as usual; and three days after,
+we found Pauline gazing out at the windows, mournful and
+conscience-stricken--she was leaving Paris behind her as fast as four
+horses and cracking whips could carry her. As they drove on, losing
+sight of its towers and steeples, a sensation of freedom came over
+her, and she placed her hand in her husband's, as if to thank him for
+her safety. The wound upon her heart was not yet closed; but her firm
+principle, her love of right, and gratitude for her deliverance, and
+the indulgence of M. de Vaissiere were fast healing what she did not
+for a moment allow to rest within her mind.
+
+Every thing delighted her; the ploughed fields, divided by green
+hedges; the farm-houses scattered far and near; the picturesque
+appearance of the peasantry and their groupings, as they gathered
+together to watch the travelers' suite; and when they stopped at a
+family estate of M. de Vassiere, her enthusiasm knew no bounds.
+
+Here they remained until the spring was past and summer came,
+embellishing still more the beautiful woods around the little domain.
+But they lingered yet in this pleasant place, loving it for the peace
+it had given them, and the happiness they had learned to feel in being
+together.
+
+Leaning on her husband's arm, Pauline wandered amid the bright scenes
+with a light step, now stopping to admire some variety of foliage, and
+now pausing by the crystal stream that ran at the foot of the tall
+trees, murmuring like a hidden sprite, and mirroring the waving
+boughs, and the blue sky of _la belle France_. She had forgotten the
+misery of her bridal-day, or remembered it but to contrast her present
+quiet enjoyment of life with her then wretchedness. She had forgotten
+her youth of terror, her husband's years and his coldness, and now,
+when she looked upon the silver hair that glittered beside her braids
+of jet, a feeling of gratitude filled her heart, as she recalled the
+hour when he might have cast her off with some show of justice, and
+sent her forth upon the wide world to die.
+
+She had learned to love him, not with the heart-stirring love of youth
+for youth, but with the deep, holy affection of a prodigal child. Not
+all the temptations of the gay world could ever make her swerve from
+her allegiance to him. Like a good and pious daughter did she cling to
+him, providing for his comfort, and forseeing his every want.
+
+One day he called her to him as she returned from her visit of charity
+to the surrounding peasantry. She had wept over their troubles and
+relieved them, and rejoiced with the happy. Her heart was
+over-flowing, and passing the little church, she entered, and offered
+up a prayer of thankfulness for her own blessings, and those she was
+able to confer on others.
+
+Her husband watched her graceful form as she came at his call, and
+smilingly placed a letter in her hand. It was from her mother, and
+part of it ran thus:
+
+         "I am now very old, monsieur, and very infirm. I
+         have often thought, in my lonely hours, of the
+         unhappiness of my child on her marriage with you,
+         and have doubted the wisdom of that authority which
+         I exercised so severely over her. The vision of
+         that pale, agonized countenance, comes upon me like
+         a reproach; and although she has never hinted in
+         one of her letters of unkindness from you, I have
+         often thought that there was a mournful spirit
+         pervading them. Pray God she may not be unhappy
+         through my fault! I rely upon you, monsieur; be
+         kind to my poor Pauline.
+                            MARIE THERESE CLEMENCE DUMESNIL.
+                                      (_Nee de Villeneuve_.)"
+
+Pauline's tears fell fast over this letter; and as she finished
+reading it, she cast herself upon her husband's bosom.
+
+"She does not deserve a reply, does she, Pauline?" asked he, with a
+smile, and pressing her closer to him. "Think you there would be no
+more marriages _de convenance_ if we were to give the benefit of our
+experience to the world? Would your mother even be sensible of her
+error, could she know how your suffering has ended--could she see how
+happy you make an old man."
+
+"Let her think that we have been always so," cried the noble Pauline.
+"Why disturb her last years with a narrative of what may embitter
+them? Shall it not be so, my dear, kind husband?"
+
+"It shall, my child," said he, touched by the generosity of her
+request. "And you, Pauline, shall write the answer--you, my patient,
+enduring, and admirable wife! Why is it that I alone know what you
+have suffered, forced thus to appreciate in silence your noble
+forbearance."
+
+But there was another letter to be read--one from Angela. It contained
+an account of Madame Dumesnil's failing strength, and her earnest
+desire to embrace her child once more. Jeannette was long since
+numbered with the dead; and Angela, whose devotion to her father had
+made her refuse every offer of marriage, removed with him to the abode
+of her friend's mother, passing her life in dividing her cares.
+
+But a short time elapsed and Pauline, with her husband, was sailing
+once more upon the broad bosom of the Atlantic. It was a long and
+tedious voyage; but she arrived in time to receive her mother's
+blessing, and close her eyes--the reward her filial piety had merited.
+
+Mr. Percy soon followed his aged companion, and Angela returned with
+Pauline to France. Here she witnessed, with wonder and delight, the
+happiness that, through Pauline's virtue, was not incompatible with so
+great a disparity of age, and rejoiced when a few months after their
+arrival in Paris, Pauline gave birth to a son and heir. Nothing now
+was wanting to complete the domestic enjoyment of the circle gathered
+at the Hotel de Vaissiere; and while the same gay crowds graced its
+walls, and courted its fair mistress, Pauline never forgot to turn to
+her husband as the one whose smile was to her the brightest, whose
+praise the most valued, and whose approbation alone she loved and
+lived for.
+
+
+
+
+THE HERMIT OF NIAGARA.
+
+BY MRS. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY.
+
+
+    It was the leafy month of June,
+    And joyous Nature, all in tune,
+      With wreathing buds was drest,
+    As toward the mighty cataract's side
+      A youthful stranger prest;
+    His ruddy cheek was blanched with awe,
+    And scarce he seemed his breath to draw,
+      While bending o'er its brim,
+    He marked its strong, unfathomed tide,
+      And heard its thunder-hymn.
+
+    His measured week too quickly fled,
+    Another, and another sped,
+    And soon the summer-rose decayed,
+    The moon of autumn sank in shade,
+      And winter hurled its dart,
+    Years filled their circle, brief and fair,
+    Yet still the enthusiast lingered there,
+    While deeper round his soul was wove
+    A mystic chain of fearful love,
+      That would not let him part.
+
+    When darkest midnight veiled the sky,
+    You'd hear his hasting step go by,
+    To gain the bridge beside the deep,
+    That where its wildest torrents leap
+      Hangs thread-like o'er the surge,
+      Just there, upon its awful verge,
+        His vigil-hour to keep.
+
+    And when the moon, descending low,
+    Hung on the flood that gleaming bow,
+    Which it would seem some angel's hand,
+    With Heaven's own pencil, tinged and spanned,
+    Pure symbol of a better land,
+    He, kneeling, poured in utterance free
+    The eloquence of ecstasy;
+    Though to his words no answer came,
+    Save that One, Everlasting Name,
+    Which since Creation's morning broke
+    Niagara's lip alone hath spoke.
+
+    When wintry tempests shook the sky,
+    And the rent pine-tree hurtled by,
+    Unblenching, 'mid the storm he stood,
+    And marked sublime the wrathful flood,
+    While wrought the frost-king, fierce and drear,
+    His palace 'mid those cliffs to rear,
+    And strike the massy buttress strong,
+    And pile his sleet the rocks among,
+    And wasteful deck the branches bare
+    With icy diamonds, rich and rare.
+
+    Nor lacked the hermit's humble shed
+      Such comforts as our natures ask
+      To fit them for life's daily task.
+    The cheering fire, the peaceful bed,
+    The simple meal in season spread,
+    While by the lone lamp's trembling light,
+    As blazed the hearth-stone, clear and bright,
+      O'er Homer's page he hung,
+    Or Maro's martial numbers scanned--
+
+    For classic lore of many a land
+      Flowed smoothly o'er his tongue.
+    Oft with rapt eye, and skill profound,
+    He woke the entrancing viol's sound,
+      Or touched the sweet guitar.
+    For heavenly music deigned to dwell
+    An inmate in his cloistered cell,
+      As beams the solem star,
+    All night, with meditative eyes
+    Where some lone, rock-bound fountain lies.
+
+    As through the groves, with quiet tread,
+    On his accustomed haunts he sped,
+    The mother-thrush, unstartled, sung
+    Her descant to her callow young,
+    And fearless o'er his threshold prest
+    The wanderer from the sparrow's nest,
+    The squirrel raised a sparkling eye
+    Nor from his kernel cared to fly
+    As passed that gentle hermit by.
+    No timid creature shrank to meet
+    His pensive glance, serenely sweet;
+    From his own kind, alone, he sought
+    The screen of solitary thought.
+    Whether the world too harshly prest
+    Its iron o'er a yielding breast,
+    Or forced his morbid youth to prove
+    The pang of unrequited love,
+    We know not, for he never said
+    Aught of the life he erst had led.
+
+    On Iris isle, a summer-bower
+    He twined with branch and vine and flower,
+    And there he mused on rustic seat,
+    Unconscious of the noonday heat,
+    Or 'neath the crystal waters lay,
+    Luxuriant, in the swimmer's play.
+
+    Yet once the whelming flood grew strong.
+    And bore him like a weed along,
+    Though with convulsive grasp of pain
+    And heaving breast, he strove in vain,
+    Then sinking 'neath the infuriate tide,
+    Lone, as he lived, the hermit died.
+
+    On, by the rushing current swept,
+    The lifeless corse its voyage kept,
+    To where, in narrow gorge comprest,
+    The whirlpool-eddies never rest,
+    But boil with wild tumultuous sway,
+    The Maelstrom of Niagara.
+    And there, within that rocky bound,
+    In swift gyrations round and round,
+      Mysterious course it held,
+    Now springing from the torrent hoarse,
+    Now battling, as with maniac force,
+      To mortal strife compelled.
+
+    Right fearful, 'neath the moonbeam bright,
+    It was to see that brow so white,
+    And mark the ghastly dead
+    Leap upward from his torture-bed,
+      As if in passion-gust,
+    And tossing wild with agony
+    Resist the omnipotent decree
+      Of dust to dust.
+
+    At length, where smoother waters flow,
+    Emerging from the abyss below,
+    The hapless youth they gained, and bore
+    Sad to his own forsaken door.
+    There watched his dog, with straining eye,
+    And scarce would let the train pass by,
+      Save that with instinct's rushing spell,
+    Through the changed cheek's empurpled hue,
+    And stiff and stony form, he knew
+      The master he had loved so well.
+    The kitten fair, whose graceful wile
+    So oft had won his musing smile,
+    As round his slippered foot she played,
+    Stretched on his vacant pillow laid.
+    While strewed around, on board and chair,
+      The last-plucked flower, the book last read,
+      The ready pen, the page outspread,
+      The water cruse, the unbroken bread--
+    Revealed how sudden was the snare
+      That swept him to the dead.
+
+    And so, he rests in foreign earth,
+    Who drew 'mid Albion's vales his birth:
+    Yet let no cynic phrase unkind
+    Condemn that youth of gentle mind--
+    Of shrinking nerve, and lonely heart,
+    And lettered lore, and tuneful art,
+      Who here his humble worship paid
+    In that most glorious temple-shrine,
+    Where to the Majesty Divine
+      Nature her noblest altar made.
+
+    No, blame him not, but praise the Power
+    Who, in the dear domestic bower,
+    Hath given you firmer strength to rear
+    The plants of love--with toil and fear--
+    The beam to meet, the blast to dare,
+    And like a faithful soldier bear;
+    Still with sad heart his requiem pour,
+    Amid the cataract's ceaseless roar,
+    And bid one tear of pitying gloom
+    Bedew that meek enthusiast's tomb.
+
+
+
+
+BURIAL OF A VOLUNTEER.
+
+BY PARK BENJAMIN.
+
+
+    'Tis eve! one brightly-beaming star
+    Shines from the eastern heavens afar,
+    To light the footsteps of the brave,
+    Slow marching to a comrade's grave.
+
+    The Northern wind has sunk to sleep;
+    The sweet South breathes; as low and deep
+    The martial clang is heard, the tread
+    Of those who bear the silent dead.
+
+    And whose the form, all stark and cold,
+    Thus ready for the loosened mould;
+    Thus stretched upon so rude a bier?
+    Thine, soldier, thine--the volunteer!
+
+    Poor volunteer! the shot, the blow,
+    Or fell disease hath laid him low--
+    And few his early loss deplore--
+    His battle done, his journey o'er.
+
+    Alas! no fond wife's arms caressed,
+    His cheeks no tender mother pressed,
+    No pitying soul was by his side,
+    As, lonely in his tent, he died.
+
+    He died--the volunteer--at noon;
+    At evening came the small platoon;
+    And soon they'll leave him to his rest,
+    With sods upon his manly breast.
+
+    Hark to their fire! his only knell,
+    More solemn than the passing bell;
+    For, ah! it tells a spirit flown
+    Without a prayer or sigh, alone!
+
+    His name and fate shall fade away,
+    Forgotten since his dying day,
+    And never on the roll of fame
+    Shall be inscribed his humble name.
+
+    Alas! like him how many more
+    Lie cold on Rio Grande's shore;
+    How many green, unnoted graves
+    Are bordered by those turbid waves!
+
+    Sleep, soldier, sleep! from sorrow free
+    And sin and strife: 'tis well with thee!
+    'Tis well, though not a single tear
+    Laments the buried volunteer.
+
+
+
+
+THE BRIDAL MORNING.
+
+[SEE ENGRAVING.]
+
+
+    Morn of hopes that, quivering, glow
+      With a light ne'er known before;
+    Morn of fears, which cannot throw
+      Shadows its sweet glory o'er!
+
+    Gentle thoughts of all the past;
+      Happy thoughts of all to come;
+    Loving thoughts, like rose-leaves, cast
+      Over all around her home.
+
+    Oh, the light upon that brow;
+      Oh, the love within that eye!
+    Oh, the pleasant dreams that flow
+      Like fairy music sweetly by!
+
+    Morn of Hope! Oh may its light
+      Melt but into brighter day!
+    Lady, all that's blest and bright
+      Be about thy path alway!
+
+
+
+
+HOME.
+
+BY MRS. H. MARION WARD.
+
+
+"_Home, sweet home!"_ How many holy and beautiful memories are crowded
+into those three little words. How does the absent one, when weary
+with the cold world's strife, return, like the dove of the deluge, to
+that bright spot amid the troubled waters of life. "_Home, sweet
+home!_" The one household plant that blooms on and on, amid the
+withering heart-flowers, that brightens up amidst tempests and storms,
+and gives its sweetest fragrance when all else is gloom and
+desolation. We never know how deeply its roots are entwined with our
+heart-strings, till bitter lessons of wasted affection have taught us
+to appreciate that love which remains the same through years of
+estrangement. What exile from the spot of his birth but remembers,
+perhaps with bitterness, the time when falsehood and deceit first
+broke up the beautiful dreams of his soul, when he learned to _see_
+the world in its true colors. How his heart ached for his father's
+look of kindness--his mother's voice of sympathy--a sister's or
+brother's hand to clasp in the warm embrace of kindred affection.
+Poor, home-sick wanderer! I can feel for your loneliness; for my heart
+often weeps tears of bitterness over the memories of a far-off home,
+and in sympathy with a gray-haired father, who, when he calls his
+little band around the hearth-stone, misses full many a link in the
+chain of social affection. I can feel for your loneliness, for perhaps
+you have a father, too, whose eyes have grown dim by long looking into
+the tomb of love. Perhaps you, too, have a mother, sleeping in some
+distant grave-yard, beneath the flowers your hands have planted; and
+as life's path grows still more rugged before you, you wonder, as I
+have done, when your time will come to lie down and sleep quietly with
+_her_. An incident occurred on board of one of the western steamers,
+some years since, which strongly impressed me with its truthfulness in
+proving how wildly the heart clings to home reminiscences when absent
+from that spot. A party of emigrants had taken passage, amongst whom
+was a young Swiss girl, accompanied by a small brother. Not even the
+_outre_ admixture of Swiss, German, and English costume, which
+composed her dress, could conceal the fact that she was supremely
+beautiful; and as the emigrants were separated from what is termed the
+first-class passengers only by a slight railing, I had an opportunity
+of inspecting her appearance without giving offence by marked
+observation. Amongst the crowd there happened to be a set of German
+musicians, who, by amusing the _ennuied_ passengers, reaped quite a
+harvest of silver for their exertions. I have always heard that the
+Germans were extremely fond of music, and was surprised that none of
+the party, not even the beautiful Swiss girl, gave the slightest
+indication of pleasure, or once removed from the position they had
+occupied the whole way. Indeed, I was becoming quite indignant, that
+the soul-stirring Marseilles Hymn of France, the God Save the Queen of
+England, and last, not _least_ in its impressive melody, the Hail
+Columbia of our own nation, should have pealed its music out upon the
+great waters, almost hushing their mighty swell with its enchantment,
+and yet not waken an echo in the hearts of those homeless wanderers.
+The musicians paused to rest for a moment, and then suddenly, as if by
+magic, the glorious _Rans des Vache_ of Switzerland stole over the
+water, with its touching pathos swelling into grand sublimity, its
+home-music melting away in love, and then bursting forth in the free,
+glad strains of revelry, till every breath was hushed as by the
+presence of visible beauty. Having never before heard this beautiful
+melody, in my surprise and admiration I had quite forgotten my
+emigrant friends, when a low sob attracted my attention, and turning
+round, I saw the Swiss girl, with her head buried in the lap of an old
+woman, trying to stifle the tears that _would_ force their way or
+break the heart that held them. I had but a slight knowledge of the
+Swiss dialect, and "my home, my beautiful home!" was the only words
+intelligible to me. She wept long and bitterly after the cadence of
+the song was lost amongst the waves, while the old woman, blessings on
+her for the act, sought by every endearment within her power to soothe
+and encourage the home-sick girl. There was little enow of refinement
+in her rough sympathy, but it was a heart-tribute--and I could almost
+love her for the unselfishness with which she drew the shrinking form
+closer to her bosom. I would have given the world to have learned that
+girl's previous history. I am sure _accident_ must have thrown her
+amongst her present associates, as I have seen a lily broken from its
+stem by a sudden gust of wind, and flung to wither and die amid rude
+and hardy weeds. In a few hours the party left the boat, and I never
+saw either her or them again; but, till this day, whenever any
+incident of a domestic nature wakens old-time dreams, pleasant
+memories of that beautiful exile, weeping over the music of her lost
+Eden, and of the kind old woman caressing her, and kissing off the
+falling tears, creep together, and form a lovely picture of _home and
+heaven-born love_.
+
+
+
+
+MARGINALIA.
+
+BY EDGAR A. POE.
+
+
+That punctuation is important all agree; but how few comprehend the
+extent of its importance! The writer who neglects punctuation, or
+mis-punctuates, is liable to be misunderstood--this, according to the
+popular idea, is the sum of the evils arising from heedlessness or
+ignorance. It does not seem to be known that, even where the sense is
+perfectly clear, a sentence may be deprived of half its force--its
+spirit--its point--by improper punctuation. For the want of merely a
+comma, it often occurs that an axiom appears a paradox, or that a
+sarcasm is converted into a sermonoid.
+
+There is _no_ treatise on the topic--and there is no topic on which a
+treatise is more needed. There seems to exist a vulgar notion that the
+subject is one of pure conventionality, and cannot be brought within
+the limits of intelligibly and consistent _rule_. And yet, if fairly
+looked in the face, the whole matter is so plain that its _rationale_
+may be read as we run. If not anticipated, I shall, hereafter, make an
+attempt at a magazine paper on "The Philosophy of Point."
+
+In the meantime let me say a word or two of _the dash_. Every writer
+for the press, who has any sense of the accurate, must have been
+frequently mortified and vexed at the distortion of his sentences by
+the printer's now general substitution of a semicolon, or comma, for
+the dash of the MS. The total or nearly total disuse of the latter
+point, has been brought about by the revulsion consequent upon its
+excessive employment about twenty years ago. The Byronic poets were
+_all_ dash. John Neal, in his earlier novels, exaggerated its use into
+the grossest abuse--although his very error arose from the
+philosophical and self-dependent spirit which has always distinguished
+him, and which will even yet lead him, if I am not greatly mistaken in
+the man, to do something for the literature of the country which the
+country "will not willingly," and cannot possibly, "let die."
+
+Without entering now into the _why_, let me observe that the printer
+may always ascertain when the dash of the MS. is properly and when
+improperly employed, by bearing in mind that this point represents _a
+second thought--an emendation_. In using it just above I have
+exemplified its use. The words "an emendation" are, speaking with
+reference to grammatical construction, put in _ap_position with the
+words "a second thought." Having written these latter words, I
+reflected whether it would not be possible to render their meaning
+more distinct by certain other words. Now, instead of erasing the
+phrase "a second thought," which is of _some_ use--which _partially_
+conveys the idea intended--which advances me _a step toward_ my full
+purpose--I suffer it to remain, and merely put a dash between it and
+the phrase "an emendation." The dash gives the reader a choice between
+two, or among three or more expressions, one of which may be more
+forcible than another, but all of which help out the idea. It stands,
+in general, for these words--"_or, to make my meaning more distinct_."
+This force _it has_--and this force no other point can have; since all
+other points have well-understood uses quite different from this.
+Therefore, the dash _cannot_ be dispensed with.
+
+It has its phases--its variation of the force described; but the one
+principle--that of second thought or emendation--will be found at the
+bottom of all.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+In a reply to a letter signed "Outis," and defending Mr. Longfellow
+from certain charges supposed to have been made against him by myself,
+I took occasion to assert that "of the class of willful plagiarists
+nine out of ten are authors of established reputation who plunder
+recondite, neglected, or forgotten books." I came to this conclusion
+_a priori_; but experience has confirmed me in it. Here is a
+plagiarism from Channing; and as it is perpetrated by an anonymous
+writer in a Monthly Magazine, the theft seems at war with my
+assertion--until it is seen that the Magazine in question is
+Campbell's New Monthly for _August_, 1828. Channing, at that time, was
+comparatively unknown; and, besides, the plagiarism appeared in a
+foreign country, where there was little probability of detection.
+
+Channing, in his essay on Bonaparte, says:
+
+         "We would observe that military talent, even of the
+         highest order, is far from holding the first place
+         among intellectual endowments. It is one of the
+         lower forms of genius, for it is not conversant
+         with the highest and richest objects of thought....
+         Still the chief work of a general is to apply
+         physical force--to remove physical obstructions--to
+         avail himself of physical aids and advantages--to
+         act on matter--to overcome rivers, ramparts,
+         mountains, and human muscles; and these are not the
+         highest objects of mind, nor do they demand
+         intelligence of the highest order:--and accordingly
+         nothing is more common than to find men, eminent in
+         this department, who are almost wholly wanting in
+         the noblest energies of the soul--in imagination
+         and taste--in the capacity of enjoying works of
+         genius--in large views of human nature--in the
+         moral sciences--in the application of analysis and
+         generalization to the human mind and to society,
+         and in original conceptions on the great subjects
+         which have absorbed the most glorious
+         understandings."
+
+The thief in "The New Monthly," says:
+
+         "Military talent, even of the highest _grade_, is
+         _very_ far from holding the first place among
+         intellectual endowments. It is one of the lower
+         forms of genius, for it is _never made_ conversant
+         with the _more delicate and abstruse of mental
+         operations_.
+
+         It is used to apply physical force; to remove
+         physical force; to remove physical obstructions; to
+         avail itself of physical aids and advantages; and
+         all these are not the highest objects of mind, nor
+         do they demand intelligence of the highest _and
+         rarest_ order. Nothing is more common than to find
+         men, eminent in the science and practice of war,
+         _wholly_ wanting in the nobler energies of the
+         soul; in imagination, in taste, in _enlarged_ views
+         of human nature, in the moral sciences, in the
+         application of analysis and generalization to the
+         human mind and to society; or in original
+         conceptions on the great subjects which have
+         _occupied and_ absorbed the most glorious _of
+         human_ understandings."
+
+The article in "The New Monthly" is on "The State of Parties." The
+italics are mine.
+
+Apparent plagiarisms frequently arise from an author's
+self-repetition. He finds that something he has already published has
+fallen dead--been overlooked--or that it is peculiarly _a propos_ to
+another subject now under discussion. He therefore introduces the
+passage; often without allusion to his having printed it before; and
+sometimes he introduces it into an anonymous article. An anonymous
+writer is thus, now and then, unjustly accused of plagiarism--when the
+sin is merely that of self-repetition.
+
+In the present case, however, there has been a deliberate plagiarism
+of the silliest as well as meanest species. Trusting to the obscurity
+of his original, the plagiarist has fallen upon the idea of killing
+two birds with one stone--of dispensing with all disguise but that of
+_decoration_.
+
+Channing says "order"--the writer in the New Monthly says "grade." The
+former says that this order is "far from holding," etc.--the latter
+says it is "_very_ far from holding." The one says that military
+talent is "_not_ conversant," and so on--the other says "it is _never
+made_ conversant." The one speaks of "the highest and richest
+objects"--the other of "the more delicate and abstruse." Channing
+speaks of "thought"--the thief of "mental operations." Chaming
+mentions "intelligence of the _highest_ order"--the thief will have it
+of "the highest _and rarest_." Channing observes that military talent
+is often "_almost_ wholly wanting," etc.--the thief maintains it to be
+"_wholly_ wanting." Channing alludes to "_large_ views of human
+nature"--the thief can be content with nothing less than "enlarged"
+ones. Finally, the American having been satisfied with a reference to
+"subjects which have absorbed the most glorious understandings," the
+Cockney puts him to shame at once by discoursing about "subjects which
+have _occupied and_ absorbed the most glorious _of human_
+understandings"--as if one could be absorbed, without being occupied,
+by a subject--as if "_of_" were here any thing more than two
+superfluous letters--and as if there were any chance of the reader's
+supposing that the understandings in question were the understandings
+of frogs, or jackasses, or Johnny Bulls.
+
+By the way, in a case of this kind, whenever there is a question as to
+who is the original and who the plagiarist, the point may be
+determined, almost invariably, by observing which passage is
+amplified, or exaggerated, in tone. To disguise his stolen horse, the
+uneducated thief cuts off the tail; but the educated thief prefers
+tying on a new tail at the end of the old one, and painting them both
+sky blue.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+After reading all that has been written, and after thinking all that
+can be thought, on the topics of God and the soul, the man who has a
+right to say that he thinks at all, will find himself face to face
+with the conclusion that, on these topics, the most profound thought
+is that which can be the least easily distinguished from the most
+superficial sentiment.
+
+
+
+
+LOVE.
+
+BY R. H. STODDARD.
+
+
+    Oh Love! thou art a fallen child of light,
+      A ruined seraph in a world of care--
+      Tortured and wrung by sorrow and despair,
+    And longings for the beautiful and bright:
+    Thy brow is deeply scarred, and bleeds beneath
+    A spiked coronet, a thorny wreath;
+    Thy rainbow wings are rent and torn with chains,
+      Sullied and drooping in extremest wo;
+      Thy dower, to those who love thee best below,
+    Is tears and torture, agony and pains,
+    Coldness and scorn and doubt which often parts;--
+      "The course of true love never does run smooth,"
+    Old histories show it, and a thousand hearts,
+      Breaking from day to day, attest the solemn truth.
+
+
+[Illustration: Beauty's Bath
+
+Painted by E. Landseer     Engraved by J. Sartain
+
+Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine]
+
+
+
+
+BEAUTY'S BATH.
+
+[ILLUSTRATING AN ENGRAVING.]
+
+
+    The fair one stands beside the plashing brim,
+      Her pet, her Beauty, gathered to her breast;
+    A doubt hath crossed her: "can he surely swim?"
+      And in her sweet face is that fear exprest.
+
+    Alas! how often, for thyself, in years
+      Fast coming, wilt thou pause and doubt and shrink
+    O'er some fair project! Then, be all thy fears
+      False as this first one by the water's brink!
+
+
+
+
+REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.
+
+
+_Poems of Early and After Years. By N. P. Willis. Illustrated by E.
+Leutze. Philadelphia: Carey & Hart. 1 vol. 8vo._
+
+This is a complete edition of one of America's most popular poets,
+with the old poems carefully revised, and many new pieces added. It is
+got up in a similar style with the editions of Longfellow and Bryant,
+by the same publishers, and is one of the most splendid volumes of the
+season. The portrait of the author, engraved by Cheney, is the most
+accurate we have seen. The illustrations, from designs by Leutze, and
+engraved by Humphrys, Tucker, and Pease, are sixteen in number, and in
+their character and execution are honorable to American art. They are
+truly embellishments. Fertile as has been the house of Carey & Hart in
+beautiful books, they have published nothing more elegant and tasteful
+than the present edition of Willis.
+
+We have written, in various critiques, at such length on the merits
+and characteristics of Willis, that it would be but repetition to
+dilate upon his genius now. In looking over the present volume, we
+cannot see that the sparkle and fire of his poetry becomes dim, even
+as read by eyes which have often performed that pleasant task before.
+The old witchery still abides in them, and the old sweetness,
+raciness, melody and power. That versatile mind, gliding with such
+graceful ease over the whole ground of "occasional" pieces, serious
+and mirthful, impassioned and tender, sacred and satirical, looks out
+upon us with the same freshness from his present "pictured" page, as
+when we hunted it, in the old time, through newspapers, magazines, and
+incomplete collections. We cordially wish the author the same success
+in his present rich dress, which he has always met in whatever style
+of typography he has invaded the public heart. When the stereotype
+plates of the present edition are worn out, it does not require the
+gift of prophecy to predict that the poet's reputation will be as
+unworn and us bright as ever.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_A Plea for Amusements. By Frederic W. Sawyer, New York: D. Appleton &
+Co. 1 vol. 12mo._
+
+This little volume, viewed in respect to the prejudices it so clearly
+exposes and opposes, is quite an important publication, and we trust
+it will find readers among those who need it most. That clumsy habit
+of the public mind, by which the perversions are confounded with the
+use of a thing, finds in Mr. Sawyer an acute analyst as well as
+sensible opponent. He has done his work with much learning, ability
+and taste, and has contrived to make his exposure of popular bigotries
+as interesting as it is useful.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_Campaign Sketches of the War with Mexico. By Capt. W. S. Henry, U. S.
+Army. With Engravings. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. 12mo._
+
+Here is a work by a brave and intelligent soldier, relating to the
+battles of General Taylor in Mexico, of which he was an eye-witness.
+It has the freshness which might be expected from a writer who mingled
+in the scenes he describes; and the plates of the different
+battle-grounds enable the reader intelligently to follow the
+descriptions of the author. Spite of the numerous books relating to
+the subject already before the public, Captain Henry's volume will be
+found to contain much not generally known, and to describe what is
+generally known better than most of his precursors in the task.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_The Consuelo. By George Sand. In Three Volumes. New York: W. H.
+Graham, Tribune Buildings._
+
+_The Countess of Rudolstadt. By George Sand. [Sequel to Consuelo.] 2
+vols. Same Publisher._
+
+_The Journeyman Joiner, or the Companion of the Tour of France. By
+George Sand. Same Publisher._
+
+_The Devil's Pool. By George Sand. Same Publisher._
+
+The above editions of the somewhat too celebrated George Sand are got
+up, by our enterprising friend the publisher, in a style superior to
+that generally used on this species of literature. The translation by
+F. G. Shaw, Esq. has been generally, and we think justly, commended.
+The works themselves, and their tendencies and results, have been made
+the subject of various opinions both here and abroad. We are not among
+those who are prepared to enter the lists as their champion. The
+translator himself remarks in relation to Consuelo: "That it has not
+found fit translation before, was doubtless owing to prevailing
+impressions of something erratic and _bizarre_ in the author's way of
+living, and to a certain undeniable tone of wild, defying freedom in
+her earlier writings." The censure of the moral portion of the
+community is thus softly and mercifully expressed: We will not at
+present add to it.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_The Last Incarnation. Gospel Legends of the Nineteenth Century. By A.
+Constant. Translated by F. G. Shaw, Esq. New York: Wm. H. Graham._
+
+A well printed and cheap volume.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+_The Scouting Expeditions of M'Culloch's Texas Rangers. By Samuel C.
+Ried, jr. Zieber & Co. Philadelphia._
+
+This work contains a spirited and vivid sketch of the Mexican war as
+prosecuted under Taylor. It is full of incident and interest, is
+written with spirit, and illustrated by a number of engravings.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+
+
+
+DESCRIPTION OF THE FASHION PLATE.
+
+
+TOILETTE DE VILLE.--Dress of gray satin, with a plain skirt; corsage
+plain, with a rounded point; sleeves above of violet-colored velvet,
+closed on the top, and trimmed with very rich lace; small pelerine to
+the waists, and terminated at the seam of the shoulder, trimmed with
+lace. Hat of yellow satin, long at the cheeks, and rounded, ornamented
+with a bouquet of white flowers resting on the side, arid a puff of
+tulle on the inside.
+
+RICHE TOILETTE D'INTERIEUR.--Dress of blue cashmere, ornamented with a
+row of silver buttons down the front of the skirts; corsage plain,
+with buttons, and terminating in two small points; sleeves rather
+short, and under ones of three rows of lace: neck-dress of lace. Cap
+also of lace, resting flat upon the front of the head, and forming
+folds behind, trimmed with bows of ribbon, of rose-colored taffeta,
+below the lace to the depth of the strings.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+ERRATUM.--In the article on Stoke Church and Church-yard, page 77,
+12th line from bottom of 2d column, "1779" should read 1799.
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Some likely incorrect spellings and probable dialect have been left as
+printed, but the following corrections have been made:
+
+1. Page 83--'for the lady lacked neither wit not humor, and the ....'
+   changed to 'for the lady lacked neither wit nor humor...'
+
+2. Page 83--superfluous word 'his' removed from sentence '...he had
+   nothing on but his his shirt, and...'
+
+3. Page 85--typo 'centipeds' corrected to 'centipedes'
+
+4. Page 85--superfluous word 'his' removed from sentence '...constant
+   to his his first love, mourning...'
+
+5. A number of contracted forms, such as 't is, shortened to 'tis, in
+   order to preserve the scansion of poetry
+
+6. Page 106--typo in sentence '...up the mill-stream, und as we
+   returned...' replaced by 'and'
+
+7. Page 106--typo 'outre' in sentence '...however strange or outre;
+   and there is...' changed to 'outre'
+
+8. Page 106--typo 'evious' in sentence '...would turn up an evious
+   nose, and...' corrected to 'envious'
+
+9. Page 110--typo 'widows' in sentence '...sitting by the widows of
+   the summer-house,' changed to 'windows'
+
+10. Page 113--typo 'then' in sentence '...was upon then--the eye of
+    Agnes;...' changed to 'them'
+
+11. Page 121--typo 'clasped' corrected to 'clasped'
+
+12. Page 125--typo 'giver' in sentence '...until he saw her giver her
+    arm...' corrected to 'give'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol. XXXII No. 2.
+February 1848, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, FEB 1848 ***
+
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